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starfinss · 4 years ago

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Good;Bad — Morisuke Yaku

Fandom: Haikyuu!!

Summary: You’re having the world’s worst week. Yaku can fix that.

Pairing: Morisuke Yaku x Reader

Rating: Fluff, comfort (SFW)

Word Count: 1,839

You’d been having a terrible week.

It rained on Monday, and because of your spacey Monday brain, you forgot an umbrella, resulting in you getting soaked on your mad dash home from school. Tuesday was a test day, and you hadn’t studied, resulting in a less than ideal score. Wednesday, you left your lunch at home and had to buy something from the vending machine to tide yourself over. This would have been fine if they weren’t out of your favorite snack. Finally, on Thursday, you woke up late, and when you finally got to school you were ten minutes late and you received the humiliating death stare as you took your seat. And at the end of the day, as you were innocently taking notes at volleyball practice, Lev served a ball straight into your face.

The fact that he received an earful from Yaku didn’t comfort you as much as it probably usually would’ve. But Lev was sorry, and you couldn’t really be mean to him. So you let it go, along with the other things you let go from your overall hellish week.

Needless to say, with your seemingly chronic bad luck that week, you were dreading Friday. And for good reason.

The milk was spoiled, so you had to eat your cereal dry, and when you showered, you cut your leg with the razor when shaving. To top it off, you couldn’t get your hair to look right, so you piled it into a bun at the crown of your head.

ou looked at your disheveled reflection in the mirror with tired eyes, stuck your tongue out at it, and hurried to leave the house.

I just have to survive today and then it’s the weekend.

You ran into Yaku as you neared the school, and he had his earbuds in. And when I say ‘you ran into him’, that was literal.

Your feet went out from under you in a flash, sending you tumbling to the pavement. You watched from the ground as Yaku also lost his balance, and he slipped, landing on top of you at an awkward angle.

You heard him groan in pain, and you shifted uncomfortably.

“Sorry,” you said, “my bad.”

Yaku rolled off of you, rubbing his elbow. His sleeved were rolled up, and you saw his brows furrow as he took note of the scrape on his outer forearm he’d gained from the fall.

You paled. “I’m so sorry, Yaku!”

Yaku offered you a smile. “No, I wasn’t looking where I was going. It’s fine. Are you okay?”

You patted dow your body, and aside from a bruised elbow and more than slightly bruised dignity, you weren’t injured.

“Fine,” you said, “but you’re bleeding.”

Yaku glanced down at his arm again. “It’s fine. Not so bad.”

You struggled to your feet, offering Yaku a hand, which he took.

“I’ll take you to the nurse,” you said, “I’m really sorry.”

Yaku looked at you quizzically. “It’s just a scrape, (Y/N). I’ll go myself if you’re worried. Just head to class.”

You took a breath. “Fine, okay.”

You left Yaku by the gates after a few parting words, keeping your head down as you walked.

Great job, (Y/N). On top of everything else, you just injured the guy you like.

You pushed it to the back of your mind, pulling your sweater sleeves around your hands.

This is gonna be a long day.

——————

Class went smoothly, thank god, and by the time lunch rolled around, you found out your best friend was absent again, so you opted to eat your lunch with the team. Kuroo was warm and welcoming to you when he spotted you, hurrying you into a seat beside Yaku with an almost knowing look that frankly alarmed you.

Yaku’s arm had a bandage on it, and he smiled wanly at you when you appeared beside him.

“Is your arm okay?” You asked as you removed the lid from your lunch box.

Yaku chuckled softly. “Don’t worry about it, really. I’m not gonna die because of a scrape.”

Lev leaned over halfway so he could see you, a smile appearing on his face.

“(L/N), you’re sitting with us today?”

You nodded. “Himari is gone, so here I am. Hope that’s okay.”

[Yaku glanced from Lev and back to you. “It’s fine. You’re always welcome here.”

He took a large bite of his rice. You did the same with your own food, chewing slowly.

Kuroo started taking about volleyball, and you listened as best as you could. You possessed a decent understanding of the game because of the fact that you were the manager of the Nekoma boys team, but you didn’t give any input.

Lunch passed, and you went back to class. You just hoped you could get through the rest of the day without incident.

——————

You arrived at practice late.

Kuroo didn’t comment on it, it wasn’t his place to since you weren’t a player, but he gave you a funny look since you weren’t usually late.

“I’m having an off day,” you told him, and he offered a friendly, albeit Cheshire smile. That was just how he usually smiled.

You sat down, pulled out your notebook, and began to take notes over the practice while doing some of your English homework.

It was about halfway through the practice that a ball suddenly hit you in the side of the face, the contact knocking you off your chair and onto the ground. You notebook skidded across the floor, your pencil sharing its fate. Your nose slammed into your arm as you tried to use it to cushion your fall, and you yelped in pain.

The room went quiet.

“Lev, you idiot, you hit (Y/N)!” You heard Yamamoto cry.

“Don’t flail your arms!”

That was Yaku, and judging from the context, Lev had probably lost control of a serve.

You propped yourself up on your arm, lifting a hand to rub at your sore cheek. Your nose was bleeding. You reached up to wipe the blood away with your sleeve, adding the fact that you now had to wash your sweater to the list of things you were upset about.

You looked up to find a handful of the players around you, concern in their eyes.

Yaku pushed through them, sending a downright murderous look to Lev, who’s expression morphed into a fearful one.

“Give her some space, guys. Back to practice.”

“I’ll get her some ice,” Lev said, guilt in his voice.

“It’s okay, Lev, I’m not mad,” you told him.

He was already out the doors by the time you finished speaking, so you just sighed.

Yaku knelt beside you, helping you sit up against the wall.

“Are you okay?”

You tried to answer him. You really did. Because honestly, while the hit hurt, it wasn’t going to kill you.

But the second you opened your mouth, you began to cry.

Yaku looked alarmed, and the sudden choked sob drew the attention of the other boys, but Yaku held up a hand. He pulled you into his arms, shushing you quietly, his movements a bit awkward, but you appreciated his effort.

“What’s wrong, (Y/N)?” He whispered, and you reached up to hold onto him.

“I’ve just been having a terrible week. I guess I… I hit my breaking point.”

And the whole knocking-over-my-crush thing really isn’t helping.

“Why don’t we go somewhere quiet?” Yaku asked, and you nodded.

“That would be nice.”

“Okay. Hey, Kuroo!”

Kuroo turned. “Yeah?”

“I’m gonna take her to the clubroom. Send Lev when he gets back.”

Yaku helped you to your feet, hand pressing to the small of your back as you walked.

The clubroom was nice and quiet, and once you were inside, Yaku shut the door, leaning against the doorjamb.

You opted for sitting on the floor, pulling your knees to your chest. You tucked your skirt between your thighs to conserve your modesty.

Yaku sat beside you.

“Tell me,” he said, “if you’re comfortable with it, that is, what’s wrong?”

And you told him. You didn’t know why you just began to spill your guts to him, but he listened attentively, offered sympathy, comforted you. It felt nice.

“And then, this morning,” you were saying, another sob building in your throat, “I ran right into you, and I was afraid I’d hurt you—“

Yaku smiled. “(Y/N), I’m perfectly fine, it doesn’t even hurt anymore.”

You sniffled. “I know, but running into the—“

You cut yourself off. What you almost just said would have revealed your feelings for the boy beside you, and rejection wasn’t something else you wanted to add to your terrible week. It would be the cherry on top of your own personal hell.

“Running into the… The what?”

Yaku looked at you with furrowed brows, and you buried your head in your knees.

You could have come up with a creative lie, but that required energy, and that was something you frankly didn’t have.

“The guy… The guy I like.”

Silence.

Heavy silence.

You looked away, somewhere to your left, eyes falling on a pile of volleyball magazines in the corner.

“(Y/N).”

You didn’t answer.

“(Y/N), look at me.”

You turned, eyes full of unshed tears.

And he kissed you.

It was gentle, warm, tender, and you all but melted at his touch, sighing as his hands came up to cradle your jaw. His palms were warm against your already hot face, but they felt nice nonetheless. You linked your hands together behind his neck, slowly kissing him back, your movements unpracticed and tentative, but he didn’t seem to mind.

The door slid open and you and Yaku broke apart quickly, turning to see who entered.

It was Lev, an ice pack in his hand. A wide grin broke out across his face.

You exchanged a look with Yaku.

“I just won 2,000 yen,” Lev said, matter of factly, “here’s your ice pack, (L/N).”

You broke into laughter as he left the ice pack on the ground by the door, and your tears were forgotten as a tender warmth filled your body. You wrapped your arms around Yaku’s neck, kissing him deeply, and he made a soft noise in surprise as he returned the gesture.

“I like you, too, (Y/N),” he said when he pulled back. You felt more tears fill your eyes, but they weren’t of sadness this time.

They were of joy. Of relief.

As Yaku pressed his lips to your forehead, pulling you close to him, you figured that your week maybe didn’t suck as much as you thought it did. It couldn’t, not with an ending like that.

And when you walked back to the gym, one hand holding the ice pack to your head and the other laced together with Yaku’s, you smiled.

“I changed my mind,” you said, and Yaku raised his eyebrows.

“About what?”

“Maybe my week isn’t all bad.”

He squeezed your hand, eyes dancing with mirth, and you forgot all about the pain in your head.

Almost.

#yaku x reader #Morisuke yaku #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #I wrote this for a friend #like #last year #Hurt/comfort #fanfiction #My writing #fluff #hq x reader #hq

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cherryjuicegf · 4 years ago

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hey boo!! don't wanna bother you but like, i could use some soft yenralt, if you have some spare content 🥺🥺 you don't *have* to write anything, just your thoughts is ok too. i just miss them is all 😔

aw hon you never bother me!! 💞 truth is i too have been thinking about ✨them✨ ever since the s2 wrap so here are some soft headcanons because i love them

sometimes when they lie in bed geralt will press his cold feet in yen's calves and she'll swear at him for five minutes but she lets him curl on her eventually.

geralt is not a tactile person but he loves bouncing yen's curls, he just loves it. yen finds it irritating though so geralt does it only when she's sad to make her smile.

when geralt is upset or troubled yen reaches to ease the line between his eyebrows with her thumb, then trails her fingers on his face until his look softens and he closes his eyes with a sigh.

sometimes geralt will come back from a dangerous hunt or they will rest after facing a great danger and yen will rest her hands over his heart to make sure it's beating and calm herself.

after she's tortured, yen's hands never really heal. when they sit together, geralt takes her hands in his and just holds them on his chest or brings them up and kisses her knuckles, as if he can heal them like that.

finally they get to retire in a nice cottage and when ciri writes them that she's coming they dress up to welcome her like proud parents. just imagine yen fussing over geralt's outfit and fixing his collar. ciri finds them ridiculous but she loves them.

just. comforting each other after a nightmare.

when they bicker geralt ends up tickling her to ease the tension and next thing they know they're kissing. it works every time.

sometimes yen wakes up at night to find herself hidden in geralt's arms and if she sheds some tears of happiness and aches from smiling so hard, well, no one ever needs to know.

she does let geralt know though when she climbs over him and peppers his face with kisses while he chuckles under her like a child.

they just. they love each other so much if i think about it more i might cry.

#maureen bless you for sending me this i'm all soft now #i'll definitely write something as soon as possible because their love is unreal and they deserve to rest 😌#the witcher #yenralt #geralt of rivia #yennefer of vengerberg #geralt x yennefer #gingerlambert #answered

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contemplativepancakes · 4 years ago

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not if it’s you

4k post mountain hurt/comfort fix it with gratuitous eskel for @witcher-and-his-bard . read on ao3 here!

Jaskier strums his lute idly, drumming his fingers on the base. He clears his throat before he starts tapping his foot on the wooden floor. Geralt is sure they can hear it four days down. He knows that if he prods Jaskier, he’ll just clam up and spend another three days working towards whatever he wants to say, though, so Geralt just lets him fidget.

To Geralt’s frustration, Jaskier doesn’t broach whatever topic has him worked up that day, or the next, or the one after that, and eventually, Geralt doesn’t think about it anymore. It must not have been important, never mind the fact that anything Jaskier says is inherently important to him.

Geralt lets himself get swept up in the wave that is Yennefer, in that someone like her could ever desire someone like him. Geralt doesn’t know what she sees, still doesn’t even know why Jaskier sticks around, and he at least has a little more to offer him than he does to Yen.

And so, when Yennefer pushes him away, he pushes right back, on the one person that’s still convinced he isn’t completely full of shit. It won’t take long for Geralt to right that wrong; it’s not like he deserves that anyway. The words tumble from Geralt’s lips, each one making Jaskier’s face twist more and more.

Geralt thinks it might be the most he’s ever said to Jaskier all in one go, and that—that thought hurts.

Geralt turns his back so he doesn’t have to look at Jaskier.

“Right. Right, then.” Jaskier clears his throat, says something about the others. “I’ll... see you around, Geralt.”

There’s hesitation on the tip of his tongue, and it sounds like there’s something else he wants to say, but he doesn’t, he just turns and goes.

It must not have been important, Geralt thinks.

Geralt barely makes it to the winter. He’s about felled on three contracts that normally would have been nothing to sneeze at, but he just…can’t think. He can’t focus on what he’s doing, now that this is all he’s good for again. Just someone to slay monsters for people who don’t appreciate it, with no one to even limp back to at the end of the day.

Geralt combs a hand through Roach’s mane, determined not to bring her down with his melancholy mood. Besides, he’ll be at Kaer Morhen in a few days, and he’s sure everything will look brighter around his family and with his belly full. There’s something about a pitiful looking witcher that doesn’t inspire very much generosity by those setting the contracts, and Geralt can’t muster the will to argue with them about it.

He takes what he’s given. It’s when he got greedy and wanted too much that things started to fall apart, after all.

When he makes it to the keep, Vesemir comes out to greet him, concern twisting his face as he walks with Geralt to the stables. Geralt is sure he reeks; he hasn’t taken a bath in weeks and the emotions wafting off of him can’t be of the pleasant variety, but Vesemir doesn’t comment, just begins to brush Roach down as Geralt takes off her tack.

They stay silent all throughout finishing Roach’s care, until Geralt is triple checking that there’s nothing stuck in her hooves because he’s trying to delay any uncomfortable conversations.

Vesemir clears his throat. “Supper should be ready. You need to eat more.”

Geralt breathes a sigh of relief and follows him into the keep.

The warm air hits him in the face, oppressively stuffy, as he trails behind Vesemir to the kitchen. When he was still young, they used to sit in the dining room, laughter and chatter drifting through the crowded hall and drowning out the clink of cutlery, but now there’s only silence that does nothing to ease Geralt’s nerves.

He hadn’t realized he was so nervous to see his brothers until now. He’s not sure if he wants them to say something or nothing at all; each is its own special brand of depressing. Maybe Geralt is typically so morose anyway they won’t notice anything is amiss.

Geralt forces himself to eat, each bite turning into sawdust in his mouth, but he swallows it down despite that. Eskel gives him a scrutinizing look over the rim of his glass, but he doesn’t say anything. Lambert is too distracted in kicking Aiden under the table, and he’s barely said ten words to Geralt since he got here.

Geralt sighs.

Later, Eskel finds him.

Eskel comes into his room without knocking, and Geralt turns around to give him a half hearted snarl. Eskel rolls his eyes and sits on the edge of the bed. “What’s wrong?”

“Who says anything is wrong?”

Eskel wrinkles his nose. “You stink.”

“Well, no one asked you to be in my room. You’re welcome to leave at any time.”

“Was it some villagers? Because I can go back and show them what an actual scary witcher looks like, gods know you’re too soft to get anywhere approaching intimidating.”

Geralt attempts a half hearted grin and hums. Eskel flops back on the bed, his hand coming up to itch at his face. “Not villagers, then. Your humans?”

Geralt grunts. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“So it is, then. Yennefer?”

Geralt walks over to the bed and shoves Eskel over to something resembling just one half before dropping down beside him. He kicks at Eskel’s legs to get them out of his space.

“Triss? Jaskier?”

Geralt rolls over and buries his head into a pillow.

He tenses when Eskel’s broad hands land on his shoulders. Eskel pauses, waiting for his permission, so Geralt relaxes his muscles, softening under Eskel’s touch. He rubs the knots out of Geralt’s back, digging in with his thumbs, until Geralt is a motionless pile of goo. He’s not sure he could move even if a monster came crashing in through the window.

“Ready to talk yet?” Eskel murmurs.

“It’s—nothing is going right.”

Eskel hums. “Welcome to the life of a witcher. I hadn’t realized this was new for you.”

Geralt rolls over onto his back, looking over at Eskel to where he’s splayed out beside him. He considers the way Eskel’s mouth is turned down and reaches out to trace Eskel’s scars with his fingertips. Eskel turns his head away, but Geralt presses closer to him and plants a kiss on his jaw.

“Geralt,” Eskel says in warning, but Geralt would really like to just not think right now.

“Please?”

Eskel softens. Geralt so rarely lets himself ask for anything, and he knows Eskel understands the significance. Eskel turns towards him and wraps his arms around Geralt, tucking Geralt’s head under his chin. He pokes at Geralt’s chest. “You need to take better care of yourself.”

Geralt presses kisses along Eskel’s collarbone, not saying anything beyond a grunt.

Eskel sighs and lets Geralt kiss him, their mouths meeting in something soft and sad.

Eskel opens to him, and Geralt lets the desire lick its way up his belly to settle somewhere in his chest. Eskel tugs Geralt's shirt off, and Geralt does the same for him, rubbing a hand across Eskel's torso and admiring how solid he is, his thumb tracing a jagged scar across Eskel’s pectoral.

Eskel just looks at his ribs protruding through his skin and frowns, so Geralt does his best to distract him. "Come here," he mutters, pulling Eskel into another kiss.

Eskel's hands slide their way up his torso, brushing across his nipples and landing on his biceps and squeezing. Geralt knows that's one part of him that hasn't wasted away, at least. The soft layers are always the first to go when times are lean. Geralt's largely used to it, but it hasn't been this bad in a while. Certainly not since Jaskier had started traveling with him.

Geralt attempts to force his brain to stop thinking about Jaskier out of sheer willpower, but it evades his best efforts.

He drags his fingertips over Eskel's skin, trying to ground himself. He slides them from the smooth expanse of Eskel's forearms to his calloused palms, remembering how Eskel's rough hands feel around his cock.

He does not make any comparisons to Jaskier's clever fingers.

Geralt rolls them over, positioning himself on top as he deepens the kiss, making it as sloppy as he can and trying to lose himself in the sensation.

Unfortunately for him, witchers aren't meant to lose themselves in anything, their senses too sharp to ever truly be able to focus on just one thing. Geralt can hear Lambert and Aiden arguing three doors down, and he can smell the contentedness dripping off Vesemir at having them all there, mixed with just the slightest bit of sour worry. Geralt tries to ignore that last part.

"Hey," Eskel whispers. "You okay?"

"Mm," Geralt says, burying his face in Eskel's neck. "Peachy."

"Liar," Eskel replies, but it's without heat, and he coaxes Geralt back out of his neck and into another kiss.

Geralt slides his hands down Eskel's torso, unknotting his trouser ties and tugging them off. Eskel does the same for him, stripping them both out of their small clothes until his half hard cock is pressed against Geralt's bare skin.

Geralt reaches down between them and takes Eskel in hand, stroking him to full hardness and enjoying the sound of the rumbling coming from Eskel's chest.

Eskel raises a gentle hand to frame Geralt's face, stroking a thumb over his cheekbone before moving on to tucking a strand of hair being Geralt's ear.

Geralt swallows hard at the tenderness of it all. There's a burning in his chest, climbing up his ribcage and threatening to consume him, that he doesn't want to examine too closely.

Geralt jacks Eskel faster, but Eskel puts his hand on Geralt's and slows the movement. "We have time," he says.

Geralt lets his eyes flutter shut for a moment. They have time. Frankly, too damn much of it, if you ask Geralt.

He's distracted by Eskel moving away from him, sitting up to rummage through the stand next to the bed. He comes back with oil and settles back on the bed, slicking his fingers and reaching behind himself.

Geralt shuts his eyes for a moment, trying not to let himself be dragged down by the overwhelming scent and sight of Eskel this close to him and opening himself up for Geralt.

"Fuck, Eskel," he moans.

"Like what you see?" Eskel asks, turning his head away.

Geralt puts his fingers on Eskel's chin and tilts his head back. "Yes."

Eskel’s eyes dart down, but Geralt's gaze stays fixed on him, tracking the microexpressions of pleasure on Eskel's face until he leans forward to kiss him again, Eskel's lips warm and soft on his own.

Eventually, Eskel puts a hand on Geralt's chest, and Geralt pulls away in question.

Eskel pushes Geralt back, guiding him to lay down before wiping his hand on the bed spread. Geralt makes an indignant noise. "You doing my washing?"

"It's going to get a lot dirtier than that, don't worry," Eskel says with a wink.

Geralt gives him an exasperated eye roll, but it's lost when Eskel grips the base of his cock and sinks down on it.

Geralt inhales a sharp breath, letting the waves of pleasure wash over him as Eskel starts to ride him.

"Just let me take care of you," he whispers, so Geralt does.

After, Eskel rolls off of him, laying on the lumpy mattress beside Geralt. They stay in silence for quite a while, until Eskel finally says. “So it’s Jaskier, then?”

Geralt grunts and shoves at Eskel’s shoulder, but Eskel just gives him a self satisfied smirk before sobering again. “Neither one of us deserves second best, Geralt.”

“So you’ve...you’ve found someone, then?”

Eskel shrugs. “Maybe. For now.”

There’s a knife digging under his rib cage. Eskel’s never had someone serious before, at least not that he’s told Geralt about. It hurts more than Geralt can explain, and he wonders if Eskel feels this way about him. Neither one of them have any claim to the other, but—they do, a little. It’d been just them for so long.

When Geralt couldn’t even find a whore who would touch him because no coin purse could ever begin to outweigh their fear and disgust at witchers, Eskel had been there, waiting for Geralt at Kaer Morhen. And now, who knows if Eskel will even return next winter. Maybe he’ll bring his lover. Geralt feels sick.

Eskel must be able to sense Geralt’s thoughts spiraling because he tugs him closer, combing his fingers through Geralt’s hair. Geralt lets the motion soothe him to sleep.

Geralt spends the rest of the winter keeping everyone at arm’s length. No one moreso than Eskel. He pretends not to see the hurt looks Eskel gives him, but Geralt just—he can’t. At least he had pushed Yennefer and Jaskier away all by himself. Eskel left him of his own volition.

Logically, Geralt knows that isn’t fair, that he’s holding Eskel to a higher standard than he holds himself, but he can’t help the way it feels like someone ripped an arrow right out of him, the head catching on ragged flesh as it comes out and makes everything worse.

By the time the snow in the pass has melted, Geralt is practically climbing the walls. He makes himself seek Eskel out before he leaves. Eskel looks surprised to see him, and Geralt’s sure he thought Geralt was going to leave without so much as a goodbye. Geralt gives Eskel a rough hug. “I’m happy for you,” he says.

When they pull away, Eskel looks at him closely. “Take care of yourself. I’m gonna kick your ass at gwent next winter.”

This startles a laugh out of Geralt. “Keep dreaming.”

As he mounts Roach to leave the keep, he looks to the horizon. He pats Roach’s neck and resolves to make it to next winter, for Eskel, if no one else.

And so, irony decides to slap him in the face. He agrees to take a contract for a graveir that has been terrorizing the woods just outside of a village. Geralt makes his preparations, but he’s not too concerned about a singular graveir. Sure, they can be dangerous if they get the jump on him, but he’s not going to let that happen.

Famous last words.

The first problem is that it’s not a graveir; it’s a leshen. Geralt curses as he scrambles back from it, rotting flesh peeling away from the deer skull that it calls a head. Geralt’s not sure how the villagers managed to skip this little detail, and his mind is coming up blank for ideas on how to get out of this. Leshens are ancient and not easy to kill at the best of times. Unprepared and on the defensive is hardly an ideal circumstance.

Geralt knows he’s not going to be able to kill it, but he might be able to reason with it. Leshen are intelligent, so Geralt steels his nerves and sheathes his sword, holding out his hands.

“I’m sorry—” is all he gets out before the leshen lashes out with one of it’s branched arms and catches him hard in the side.

Geralt hisses in pain and drops to his knees, clutching at his side. He looks up at the leshen, trying to think of something, anything, that’s going to get him out of this predicament alive, but he draws a blank.

The leshen bludgeons him again, and he doesn’t think about anything else for quite a while.

“Geralt? Gods, Geralt!”

When Geralt wakes up, he thinks he must be dead. It’s the only reasonable explanation. If he had survived his encounter with the leshen, he would be lying on the hard ground with no less than four tiny rocks or twigs digging into his back, but he’s on a soft mattress. And it smells like...Jaskier?

Yes, this definitely isn’t real.

Geralt keeps his eyes shut as he registers the details and slowly fills in the world around him.

Jaskier is picking at his nails in a chair next to the bed, and there’s a clock slowly ticking on the wall. Jaskier sighs and tugs at the blanket covering Geralt, pulling it from his shoulders to rest just beneath Geralt’s chin.

Geralt finally surmises that he must not be dead, because if he were, all of these sounds and smells wouldn’t be grating so much on his senses.

He lets Jaskier’s fidgeting go on for three more minutes before he finally darts out a hand from underneath the blankets to take hold of Jaskier’s hands. Jaskier’s pulse ratchets up, and Geralt draws his hand back like he’s been burned. Jaskier has been drenched in the scent of fear ever since Geralt had gained enough consciousness to register the smell, and Geralt hates it.

He never wants Jaskier to smell like that, and the thought that he’s causing it? Well, it’s not a pleasant one. Jaskier had never been frightened of him before, but Geralt supposes he can’t expect everything to simply go back to the way it was before, even if desperately wants it to.

“Stay still, please,” Geralt scrapes out finally, and Jaskier stops his fiddling immediately.

“Oh, I’m,” he drops his voice to a whisper, “sorry. Your ears must be very sensitive right now.”

Geralt grunts in vague agreement, and some of the fear scent mellows out into something more resembling worry. Honestly, in this state, Jaskier could probably fight him off without too much of an issue, so he’s not sure what exactly he has to be worried about.

Jaskier stares at Geralt’s peaceful profile. The lines on his face have smoothed out in sleep, and his chest rises and falls at a steady rate. Jaskier lets out a deep sigh and scrubs his hands over his face. He was never enough for Geralt the first time around, so he doesn’t know why he thinks this time will be any different.

Just because, what? Because he saved Geralt this time instead of the other way around? Well, only about eleven more times to go and then they’ll be even.

Jaskier pulls out his notebook and flips to a page near the beginning. He runs his fingers over the words that have been smudged by age and tears, tapping his nails on the curves of the letters. He bites his lip as he looks back up at Geralt before closing the book again. Geralt wouldn’t have wanted this then, and he sure as fuck doesn’t want it right now.

The best thing Jaskier could do for him would be to leave, but Jaskier is selfish, and he needs to see that Geralt is going to wake up again for himself.

He’d been scared out of his wits earlier; sure that this time he’d finally lost it and he’d started to hallucinate while he had stumbled around in the woods. There had been a resounding crash, so Jaskier had gone to check it out, and he could almost hear Geralt berating him for his nonexistent survival instincts.

Jaskier had found Geralt, his white hair haloed around his head and still convinced he was seeing things. When he had sunk to his knees beside Geralt’s still form and reached out a hand, Geralt was solid and real and bloody, so Jaskier had panicked.

He didn’t know what to do, so he flitted his hands over Geralt until he found where the blood was sluggishly seeping from and pressed down hard. He tried to ignore his shaky hands, but it was hard to do when the bottles he fumbled from Geralt’s pack clinked together incessantly.

He almost dropped one, and upon closer examination, it looked like the one Geralt always took when he would come back wounded. Jaskier knew he shouldn’t try to make an unconscious person drink anything, but Geralt was looking dangerously paler by the second, and he didn’t see any other options. He lifted Geralt’s head up and pulled him into his lap, supporting his head as he tipped the bottle’s contents between Geralt’s lips.

Somehow, Jaskier had flagged down a cart that was passing not too far from where they were on a trail and had convinced the driver to help them. He’s sure he looked quite the sight, Geralt’s blood all over his doublet, but there must have been enough genuine panic in his voice to get the point across.

And now they’re here, Geralt taking rattling breaths as he sleeps. Geralt had wanted destiny to take him off his hands, but Jaskier…

He must be a glutton for punishment, because he can’t bring himself to leave Geralt’s side.

Geralt wakes again to a soft humming, and he cracks his eyes open to be surprised that Jaskier is still here. He allows himself to hope for a moment that maybe all isn’t lost before he quashes it. It’s more likely Jaskier was just waiting for him to wake up so he could tell him off to his face.

Geralt heaves himself to a sitting position, and Jaskier rushes over to him. “Easy!”

Geralt leans back against the headboard and prods his side. It feels slightly tender, but not anywhere near as bad as it was before.

“How long have I been asleep?” Geralt croaks.

Jaskier shrugs. “A day? Not long.”

“Healed up well.”

Jaskier eyes him. “Well, you have a stunningly handsome nurse to thank for that.”

“Well, where’s he at?” Geralt asks, before he can’t help himself and a chuckle escapes his lips.

Jaskier shoves at him, and for a second, everything is right again, exactly back to the way things were before. But Geralt can’t stop the tightening of his features after the jostling, and Jaskier takes immediate note. “Oh, I’m sorry. Are you alright? Do you need anything?”

“Fine,” Geralt grits out. Jaskier’s already spent too long taking care of him as is.

“Oh.” Jaskier sits back down in the chair next to him.

Geralt waits for the beratement, the anger about why Jaskier wasted years of his life on him, but it doesn’t come.

And so Geralt is forced to make the first move. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I did. It was cruel, and you didn’t—you never deserved that.”

Jaskier looks over at him in surprise, and it twists Geralt’s insides to see Jaskier looking at him like that over a simple apology.

“It turns out bards aren’t very successful when they’ve lost their muse,” Jaskier finally says, and Geralt stops to look at him.

Jaskier’s clothes hang off of him, and their once vibrant color seems muted. In fact, Geralt thinks he recognizes that shirt, and it’s certainly not like Jaskier to wear the same clothes season after season.

“I’m sorry,” Geralt says again. He’s not sure how to say anything else.

Jaskier puts one of his hands over Geralt’s, and Geralt shakes his head. “Jask, you deserve someone who’ll treat you like you deserve.”

Jaskier straightens up and arches an eyebrow. “You’re not up for the challenge?”

“Witchers, we can’t—”

“Bullshit,” Jaskier interrupts.

“What?”

“Bullshit. Whatever you were about to say, that you can’t feel, or whatever. Bull. Shit.”

Geralt’s taken aback. He clears his throat. “You’re right.”

Jaskier was clearly expecting more resistance, so he deflates a little at Geralt’s words.

“I missed you,” Geralt says.

“Like a sore thumb, I’m sure.”

Geralt huffs. “No, I really missed you.”

Jaskier looks at his hands, picking at a hangnail. “I missed you, too.”

Geralt’s not quite sure why, or what exactly there was to miss, but he won’t ask any questions and risk Jaskier changing his mind.

“I wrote you a song,” Jaskier blurts. “Before. All of this. But. I still mean it.”

Geralt’s heart breaks. “Will I have heard it anywhere?”

Jaskier clears his throat. “No, no. It was just for you. I haven’t played it for an audience.”

Geralt hums. “Well, I can’t imagine I won’t like it.”

“You haven’t even heard it yet, Geralt. Whatever happened to a fillingless pie?”

“I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry,” he says again.

He’ll say it however many times Jaskier needs to hear it. A flush rises to Jaskier’s cheeks. He takes a page from Geralt’s book. “Hmm.”

“If it comes from you, I’m going to like it. Even if it’s terrible.”

Jaskier shakes his head. “That makes no sense.”

“It’s a gift,” Geralt says. “What’s not to like?”

Jaskier huffs and shakes his head in exasperation. Geralt is no clearer now than he was before.

He pulls out his lute and tunes it, even though it was perfectly tuned just two nights ago before he performed. He can feel Geralt’s eyes on him, and he resolutely ignores them. Finally, he begins to play and sing along. He hasn’t let himself play this particular song in months. Everytime he tried, it was like ripping off a scab and pouring white gull on the wound.

Which, yes, he got to experience once when Geralt was convinced a nasty gash on his leg was infected. Jaskier maintains Geralt was just being an over concerned brooding hen, but he can’t say the attention wasn’t nice.

His voice is a little rusty from the disuse, but it quickly flakes off with the way Geralt is looking at him. It’s a measured look, one Jaskier’s not used to. Attention is fleeting when he performs, with people flitting back to talk to their companions, or eat their meal, but Geralt hasn’t taken his eyes off of him.

Jaskier stumbles over the next line, cursing himself, but he quickly recovers and goes on to finish the song.

When he’s done, he chances a glance back at Geralt. He licks his lips, finding them suddenly terribly dry. “Three words or less?”

Geralt gives him an impossibly soft look. “I loved it.”

#the witcher #geralt of rivia #jaskier #eskel #fanfiction #contemplative writing

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bukojuiice · 4 years ago

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a love like the movies — todoroki shoto

ೃ pairing: (new pro hero! shoto todoroki x female reader)

ೃ warnings: none

ೃ genre: fluff overload

ೃ word count: 2,024 words

ೃ 𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐠𝐨 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐮 (𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐨 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞! 𝐮𝐰𝐮) 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 (𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐦𝐞 𝐜:)

ೃ 𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐟𝐮𝐧 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬. 𝐢 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐬 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫!!

ೃ 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐨: 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐲 𝐛𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐱 𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐲

ೃ Shoto spends his only day of rest and relaxation by watching iconic tv shows with you

Being one of the top pro-heroes of Japan, Shoto Todoroki always had a tight schedule. May it be fighting off villains, attending interviews from local and international news, managing his father's hero agency, or seeing through the internship of some aspiring heroes, he barely has enough time to be with his family and loved ones. Today, Shoto has one and a half days off before he has to go off to this big mission in the South of Japan.... and what better way would the Top No. 3 Hero do than spend it than with you? "Hey (Y/N)." Shoto calls out to you, in his usual monotonous voice that you know and love, holding a bag of popcorn. "What's up?" You look up to him, whilst propping the pillows on the couch and the table for your TV show marathon. "I got a joke.." He says monotonously, to the point you couldn't even tell if he was even about to say a joke or not. "Is your name Ariel?" "Why?" You ask, playing along with his joke. "Because I think we mermaid for each other." He stifles a laugh, trying his best not to laugh out loud (at a joke he apparently made on his own) as he jumps onto the couch. "Oh my goddd Shoto-kun." You groan loudly, shaking your head. "Since when were you one to make dad jokes? This is slightly out of character for you in all honesty." You cross your arms, still trying to process the fact that your boyfriend. The ever so proud and handsome, Todoroki Shoto, literally just said a dad joke right in front of your face. As in directly to you. Who knew this day would come? "Kaminari said that you'd fall even more head over heels in love with me if I told you a dad joke" He deadpans, cuddling up next to you. "I missed you too much." He pecks your cheek and you couldn't help but giggle. It was a pleasant surprise when your Half Cold-Half Hot boyfriend was in your doorstep this morning. You initially thought that he would be spending his whole day resting, but he did promise that he would at least have a movie or TV marathon with you before he had to go off in a important mission. You just felt guilty that he had to spend it on his only day of rest and relaxation for the month, and then he's back to work. "These are the shows that Izuku recommended." You show him DVDs of Friends, The Office and How I met your Mother. "After all, you do want to watch some old popular sit-coms right?" "Aside from that, Izuku might have slipped and confessed to me that you said that you've been dying to watch some of these." He looks at you and tilts his head, grabbing one of the DVDS. "Well then, let's get to it." "I have a list of some of the most recommended episodes of each show right here." You bring out a piece of paper, hundreds of words scribbled onto it. The love of your life couldn't help but laugh at your eagerness and your interest at the shows that you two were going to be watching. "I'll go cook up some Cold Soba for the two of us. Are you sure you're fine with setting up the TV?" "Yes... I mean Of course!" You nod profusely. "It'd be a huge mess if I was the one who cooked our food instead." Shoto smiles at you and ruffles your hair as he stands up from the couch and heads to the kitchen. After fixing everything up, You put in the 5th Season DVD of The Office (as Izuku had recommended it had one of the best episodes in the series) and you press on the remote control for it to skip to the 13th episode titled Stress Relief. Shoto comes back earlier than expected with two bowls of Cold Soba on both of his hands. "So...what did I miss?" "Gee. That was fast." You get one of the bowls and chopsticks from him and start munching on the noodles. "Not that I'm complaining though. Amazing as always Pee Pee guy." You giggle. "You're really bringing that back huh?" He smirks at you and puts down his bowl of soba. You wonder why until he scoots over to you and slides his hands on your waist. Now, you knew exactly why. "Hey! Stop it! You might think I'm All Might's love child!" You laugh, teasing him again, even though you were already being tickled mercilessly. Shoto stops for a second to give you an enticing glare and then tickles you again, only harder this time. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) The episode had started playing as the intro of the Office appeared in the screen. Shoto stops tickling you as he didn't want to waste more time than he already has, and the two of you start watching You take a deep breath, trying to recover from your endorphin rush. "You have to watch the intro to this episode! It's hilarious!" You nudge Shoto, wanting him to pay more attention. The two of you start snickering when one of the main characters, Dwight, as a way to teach fire safety, sets a fire in an office trash can with a cigarette, saying "Today smoking will save lives." with a straight face. Chaos then ensues in the episode. During the subsequent panic, the office's only copy machine was destroyed, one of them smashes a window to call for help, and an improv of one of the characters, taking advantage of the havoc by raiding the snack machine. One of the female worker characters even had a cat hidden in her file cabinet, and she had tossed it into the air vent so that it could escape. You were already laughing your heart out, looking at Shoto to see if he was laughing the same way as you were too, only for your glance at him to time perfectly, as he lets out a burst of laughter; one that you rarely see from him. Your eyes lit up and you feel your heart burst from seeing your usually so stoic and stern boyfriend, show such an array of positive emotions. "Why is this funnier than it should be?" His cute laugh echoes throughout your apartment. "I have to go do this with Izuku and the others some time." You laugh along with him, "Make sure to call me up if ever you guys ever end up making one!" You watch a few more episodes until you hear rain pouring outside. You pause the episode that the two of you were watching for a minute, and then stood up to look outside the window. "This is so cool! It really sets the mood!" You jump up and down as you couldn't contain your excitement and rush to your room. Your boyfriend looks at you puzzled, as he didn't know what you were being so happy about, until you came back from your room with a long and big fuzzy blanket. "It's cuddle weather!" You sit back on the couch and nuzzle next to Shoto, putting the blanket on top of the two of you. You rest your head on his shoulder and continue watching. You ended up watching all the episodes of season five of The Office for the whole morning. You took a look at the time. It was already the afternoon and you had several more hours to spare, so you then pop in a DVD of the 3rd season of Friends. "Rachel and Ross' relationship is really getting on my nerves." Shoto pouts in disappointment. You chuckle lightly because of how cute he looked and because of how interested he was. "There's so much drama in this series. How come Izuku considers this as one of his favorite shows?" He shakes his head yet continues watching. "They were on a break." You nudge his arm, referencing one of Ross' most iconic lines. "You know what? Speaking of breaks, I'm going on a bathroom break." He stands up from the couch and goes straight to the bathroom. You giggle at his sudden interest in the show, since he is now able to have his own criticisms and opinions on it. He comes back with a huge grin on his face. You look up at him. "Hm? Anything wrong?" "Hey, how you doin? "He says in a thick Japanese accent as he winks at you, trying to copy Joey's iconic pick-up line from the show. "Oh my goddddd Sho-kun." You groan at his antics again. "I can't even give you a pass for that. That was a really bad joke." On the inside however, you wanted to die of embarrassment and of giddiness. His sudden spike of confidence and how hot he looked whilst reciting one of the most iconic tv show lines of all time. You just wanted to tackle him down and cuddle all night, just from him saying that line alone. You were that aroused. "If Joey can get a girl to fall for him through that line, then why can't I do it on you?" "Because- I'm not like one of those girls... I'm one of a kind." You wink back at him. "Okay now that was a bad joke." "Yea yea I know... Let's just get back to watching Friends." The last episode of the season ended with the beach house, and you turned to look at Shoto for his comments. "Chandler really was the star of the show in this season. So was Phoebe. You know, I'll bet you 500 Million Yen that Chandler and Monica will end up together after that last episode." You were surprised at Shoto's attention to detail on the body languages of the characters. How'd he predict that the two would end up in one of the later seasons of the show "Wait til' Season Four." You boop his nose, keeping the spoilers for another future Friends marathon. The next show on your list was How I met Your Mother, though the show was quite similar to Friends, it did have a lot of good elements that the latter didn't have. Although the two of you just ended up watching the last few episodes of How I Met Your Mother since both of you were able to watch the previous seasons prior to your marathon. In the middle of one of the last episodes, Shoto gets comfortable and lays down on the sofa. He leaves a little space for you to sit on, though you didn't complain since you were too invested in the show. The last episode ends, and the credits start to roll. It was already the middle of the night and you were quite sleepy. You stretch your arms and lay down on his chest, Shoto brings you closer for warmth and whispers, "You know, I can't wait to tell our future kids our love story and tell them, "'And that kids is how I met your mother." You giggle and smile at his comment and slowly close your eyes, you hear the faint sound of the TV turning off and the rain still pouring outside, as you drift off to dreamland. "Midoriya. I'll probably be a bit late for our call time tomorrow." Shoto speaks in a soft voice on his phone, as a way to try and not to wake you up. "I just got into a little situation. Nothing big." Your boyfriend smiles, playing with your hair and looking at you with all the love he has to offer in this world. "Thanks. I'll see you tomorrow." Shoto whispers loudly and then ends the call. He turns off his phone and plants a kiss on your forehead. He closes his eyes, a contented smile on his face, as he also drifts off to sleep whilst you sleeping soundly on his chest. That night, both of you could not imagine spending an even better day with each other, but being in each other's arms. ♡ The End.

#todoroki shoto x reader #shoto x reader #todoroki x reader #todoroki shoto x y/n #shoto todoroki #shoto todoroki x reader #bnha #mha #my hero academia #shoto todoroki fluff #bnha x reader #mha x reader #mha fluff #bnha fluff #todoroki shoto #shoto todoroki x y/n #shouto todoroki #shouto todoroki x reader

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devendrasbeard · 4 years ago

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Don’t Threaten Me With A Good Time

Prompt: Gwent / Games Relationships: Eskel/Yennefer of Vengerberg Rating: E Content Warnings: Switch Eskel, Casual Sex, Pegging, Explicit Sexual Content Summary: Just two workmates playing Gwent after closing the bar for the night. Things get heated and escalate quickly once it turns out Yennefer is a way better player than Eskel, who loves this game more than anything. Also on ao3!

Another day at The Red Dragon came to an end. Yennefer closed up the last two customers and locked the bar's door after they've left. She poured herself a shot of tequila - a little reward to wait for her till she's done with counting the money and washing the countertops.

The rustling of boxes and clanking of metal barrels from the back room made her sigh and roll her eyes. Eskel appeared in the door, carrying one keg propped on his massive shoulder and rolling another one on the floor. Being over six feet four and with a physique of a bodybuilder, he was definitely a sight to behold, but the whole "look at how much stuff I can carry at once" gig was too much of a show off by Yennefer's standards.

"You're really gonna replace the kegs at 2am now? Leave that for tomorrow and help me with the tables."

"Triss says rolling the kegs kills her back, and I'm not working this weekend, so..." Eskel shrugged and duck under the counter to replace the barrel.

"Oh," Yen raised one eyebrow. "What are you up to that's more interesting than sitting in a pub full of drunk people on a Saturday night?"

"I'm only gonna tell you if you promise me not to laugh." He peeked at her from under the counter. "And don't tell Geralt."

That sparked some interest in Yen. It could be either something extremely dumb or something illegal. Or both. She stood above him with her arms crossed and gave him a questioning look. "I can promise not to tell the Wolf, but as for the other part... well..."

Eskel huffed, having replaced both kegs, and wiped his hands on the towel lying at the counter. "Fair enough. I'm taking part in a Gwent tournament."

"What is it with you guys and Gwent?" Yennefer groaned and moved to clean the tables.

"It's fun, plus you can win some good money there - it's part of this bigger fantasy con..."

"You're really taking part in that circle jerk for nerds?" Yen interrupted him and made a scrawny face. "Nothing more boring than sitting around, throwing some cards on the table and letting other nerds cream themselves over them. But whatever drives your fancy, I guess."

"You only say that cause you haven't played with me yet." Eskel smiled at her, that big scar across his cheek stretching a little.

Yennefer rolled her eyes again. "I am sure I would still hate it."

"I could show you some tricks, or explain some of the best strategies to you..." Eskel started, a spark of excitement already in his eye.

"Alright, alright, I'll play with you one day." Yen raised her hands. "Now just shut up and help me with the cleaning."

"We could play after we're done with work," Eskel wiggled his brows.

"Please tell me you do not carry your cards around with you," Yennefer made a wry face.

Eskel grabbed his backpack and dangled it on one finger in front of Yen's eyes. "I actually do."

Yennefer groaned and moved to place the chair's on the tables, making space for Eskel to start mopping the floors. "Fine," she let out a resigned huff. "I'll play with you after we're done, just... Stop talking for now."

*****

The bar was clean and ready for Triss and Yen to open the next day, so they moved to the office in the back room. It was a pretty spacious place, with two desks, where Geralt, Eskel's brother and their boss at the same time, kept all their paperwork, invoices and such. At the far wall they have made a little social space for the employees - they brought in a comfortable couch to sit at, a round wooden table with three chairs and a small cabinet with a mini fridge and a microwave.

Eskel pushed a stray strand of dark hair from his forehead and rummaged around his backpack. He pulled out three different decks of Gwent cards, making Yennefer snort at the sight of it.

"Never thought you'd be such a nerd." She stuck her tongue out in a mocking gesture, but Eskel let it slide, his head already focused on the game.

"Okay, so you can pick your faction from these cards - I have Nilfgaard, monsters..."

"Just gimme any and let's be done with this!" Yennefer snatched the deck out of his hand and sat at the table.

Eskel sat across from her. He went through his cards with a very serious look on his face and then looked up at Yennefer. He raised his eyebrows with a playful smile. "Hey, do you want to spice it up? Like, play Strip Gwent?"

He was ready to hear a mocking comment or being straight up laughed at, but no, Yennefer leaned back in her chair and took in the sight of him. There was a spark in her eyes that made Eskel feel very naked and very small. She propped her hands on her knees, sitting up wide and grinned.

"So, here are the rules." She moved straight to business, like always, and Eskel was so ready to play. "Whoever loses a round, takes a piece of clothing off. Jewelry, piercings don't count. Pair of shoes, pair of socks - it all counts as one item. Deal?"

"Let's play." Eskel grinned and took an eyeful of her. His eyes moved down from her face to that tight T-Shirt with the bar's logo, now covered with a light leather jacket, and down to the ripped jeans. This was going to be an easy win and he was up for a delicious prize.

*****

Forty-five minutes later they were still sitting at the table, Eskel sporting only his boxer shorts and shoes, while Yennefer took just her leather jacket off. She was grinning like a mad witch and purposely fixing her eyes on Eskel's pecs.

"I don't understand." He huffed. "You said you didn't know how to play."

"Society would've been so advanced already, if only men listened carefully to women." Yennefer sighed, not without a hint of satisfaction in her voice. "I never said I didn't know how to play, I said I hated the game. And now I really hope you'll put up a show for me, taking those boxers off." She smiled playfully, placing her last card on the table.

"Fuck, lost by two points!" Eskel hid his face in his hands, only to look up at her a moment later, a menacing grin on his face. "But, well played, here's your prize then."

He circled the table, his pace calm but steady. With a swift move of his strong arms, he turned Yennefer's chair away from the table and stood between her wide spread legs, hooking his thumbs in the waistband of his boxers. She looked at him, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth, not even trying to fake disinterest anymore. Her lilac eyes were on fire and taking in every little detail of Eskel's physique being proudly presented in front of her.

She licked her lips as her gaze wandered from his face and down across his broad heavy chest, adorned with thick dark hair. He had two swallows tattooed right under his collarbones and also sported a nipple ring, that Yennefer was immediately drawn to. His abs were a marvel, like chiseled in stone, his hip bones sporting another tattoo - this time of a poison ivy. A patch of thick black hair was poking out of his boxers, and she could already see the outline of his dick perfectly. Yennefer was more than ready to start another game.

"You've still got your shoes on... So if you want to back out of it, here's your last chance." Yennefer said firmly, at the same time looking Eskel deep in the eyes and dragging a finger along the seam of his boxers.

Eskel swallowed audibly, feeling a shiver down his spine and the familiar heat coiling in his groin. He let out a heavy breath and launched himself at Yen, slotting their lips in a heated kiss. He felt her hands on his ass, slowly sneaking beneath the fabric to take a handful of his flesh. In a swift move she slid his boxers off and broke the kiss off for a moment to gaze down at his already hardened cock. "I'm starting to think you've had all of this planned out," she smiled, licking her lips. "But since you have this in store for me, I don't really mind."

Yennefer wasn't small, but Eskel still had to bend over to kiss her, so he lifted her up and made her wrap her legs around his waist. Her sweet breath in his mouth was already driving him crazy and he moved a few steps forward, laying her down on the table where they played just a few moments before.

She broke the kiss off almost immediately, placing a hand on his chest and pushing him away playfully. "If anyone's gonna be splayed on that table, it's gonna be you, big boy."

That sent a jolt of arousal straight down to Eskel's cock. He hasn't slept with a woman in quite a long time, being mostly interested in dudes, so the perspective of being bossed around by Yen made him shiver with anticipation. He locked a finger under her chin, pulling her up for another deep kiss, and then he bend over on the little table. "Go on, take me then."

*****

Eskel was on the couch on all fours, his head hanging low between his shoulders, heated gasps of pleasure escaping his pressed lips. Beads of sweat were forming along his spine, running up his back and wetting his already damp dark hair. Yennefer was sat comfortably behind him, still in her clothes, two fingers hooked inside his hole, her long fingernails grazing against his prostate. Every move of her lanky digits made Eskel moan and whine and throw his head up. His cock was painfully hard and leaking, but every time he reached for it, Yen swatted his hand away.

"Do you want me to take you apart, baby?" She cooed right into his ear, one hand massaging the small of his back, the other still hooked inside him. Eskel only nodded fervently and let out a long moan. Yennefer clicked her tongue. "Needy."

She reached for her bag and took out a simple but beautifully crafted metal dildo and weighed it in her hand long enough for Eskel to notice it. It was mirror polished, slightly curved like a bow, with perfectly round balls on both ends. Eskel swallowed hard, his voice coarse, "You carry that stuff around in your purse?"

"You never know when unexpected pleasure strikes," Yennefer laughed a pearly laugh. "And it gives my purse a mean swing when I need to knock a bastard down."

"You are an incredible woman," Eskel looked at her from behind his shoulder. "Now would you please stick it in me?"

The weight and pressure of the dildo was just perfect, hitting all the right spots inside Eskel. He tried rocking back and forth a little, along with Yennefer's movements, and it send waves of pleasure down his spine and right to his cock whenever the heavy round ball grazed against his prostate. His cock was already leaking a constant thin streak of precome and he was aching for a sweet release.

"Yen, I really need to come," he breathed, his flushed face pressed into the fabric of the sofa.

"Not till I got my pleasure," Yennefer mused and stood up, taking the dildo out. "C'mon, sit up."

She got rid of her T-shirt and jeans quickly, revealing a matching set of underwear, that was, surprisingly for Eskel, in a baby pink shade. Both the bra and panties had an intricate pattern of criss crossed satin straps, making the pieces look more like armor than underwear. Eskel swallowed thickly and ran a hand along Yen's features, caressing her side, hooking one playful finger at the seam of her panties. He looked up at her, his brown eyes meeting her lilac gaze, both equally dark with lust, and she shook her head, tipping his head up by the chin.

"I'm not stripping today," she said flatly and climbed over him, standing above his face, tangling her fingers in his hair. "You can get a taste, though."

Eskel gave her a little lick over the thin lace and satin fabric and could already taste her wetness. A little whimper left her lips and she propped her arm on the wall, her other hand grabbing Eskel's hair more firmly. He pressed kisses to her inner thighs and then again to her wet cunt, holding her by her firm buttocks, so she wouldn't fall over.

Eskel was good with his mouth. All his previous lovers could confirm that and Yennefer was no different. It took him only a few minutes to have her writhing above his head, her thighs shaking, her hand tangled painfully in his hair, as his tongue darted in and out of her sweet heat. She tasted like gooseberries and candy and Eskel found himself a bit addicted to the taste. But he couldn't wait to feel that welcoming heat around his dick, so he dared to make a move, grabbing Yennefer firmly by the hips and lowering her down, so she was sat in his lap.

She kissed him, a hard feverish kiss, her eyes on fire and her cheeks flushed a gorgeous deep pink. And then she just moved her panties to the side and slid down on his cock. The sensation of her tight slick cunt taking him in fully send Eskel very close to the edge. He threw his head back with a groan, only to jolt forward in the next moment and bury his face between Yen's breasts.

She moved up and down at a steady pace, her gaze focused on Eskel, both hands tangled in his hair. Eskel put his arms around her and started fumbling with the clasps of her bra, only to be swatted away.

"What, you won't even show me your tits?" He asked, with only a bit of disappointment in his voice.

"Nope." Yennefer's tone was firm, although her voice was already strained, interrupted with breathy huffs. "I won the game, so now we play by my rules."

In response, Eskel bucked his hips up to draw an especially long and needy moan out of her. Yen propped her forehead on his chest, breathing heavily.

"I'm tired, you move now."

He didn't need anymore prompting - Eskel just stood up, holding her thighs in a firm grip, driving into her with all the energy he had. Yennefer grabbed onto his shoulders, her long fingernails digging painfully into his flesh, and she pressed their faces together to steal one more heated kiss from him.

Eskel moved faster, each thrust of his hips hitting a sweet spot inside Yennefer's cunt, making her moan and wail like a little cat. He looked at her face - the cold and indifferent facade was long gone, replaced by watery, pleading eyes, flushed cheeks and wet lips parted in a very obscene way - and it send him over the edge.

His orgasm hit him like a wave, making him grasp at Yen's thighs even harder, drawing a hiss out of her mouth and making her bite his lip. Her quivering thighs and her pussy clenching so hard on his dick were signs Yen was very close too, so despite his tiredness and fuzzy feeling in his bones, he drove into her a few more times, causing her to make the most beautiful crying sound Eskel has ever heard.

After they dropped back onto the couch, Yennefer patted his thigh lightly, brushed her tangled hair off her face, sighed. "I still hate Gwent."

Eskel laughed. "And I still need you to not tell Geralt about any of this."

----

@witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo

#witcher rarepair summer bingo #eskel x yennefer #eskel/yennefer #yennskel #is that a thing?#it defo should be #bamf yennefer #the witcher fic

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fantastic-rambles · 4 years ago

Text

Fandom: Sk8 the Infinity

Characters: Shindo Ainosuke (Adam), Sakurayashiki Kaoru (Cherry Blossom), Nanjo Kojiro (Joe), Kikuchi Tadashi (Snake), Hasegawa Langa (Snow), Hasegawa Nanako (mentioned)

Warnings: Yakuza/Mafia/Gang, Mild Language

Word Count: 1.5k

Summary: Yakuza AU. When Langa is tricked by Nanjo into running up a huge bill at a club, Boss Shindo steps in to deal with it. Which means competing with Boss Sakurayashiki in a poker game. [NOTE: All characters are aged up by ~5 years. Mostly so Langa can drink and gamble. xD] [Part 1 mostly focuses on Adam and Joe. Part 2 (to come later, maybe on Day 8?) will mostly focus on Adam and Cherry.] [S Founder Trio Festival | Day 2: Gang]

When Ainosuke's phone vibrated, he glanced at the screen and the unregistered number before leaning back in his chair and picking up the call.

"Hey. How have you been?" he asked, his voice gentle. But an unfamiliar cackle emitted from the speaker, and he pulled the phone away from his ear, double-checking the number on the screen.

"Who is this? How did you get this phone? Ainosuke demanded after he replaced it to his ear. Of course, it was possible that there was a simple explanation for all of this: perhaps the phone had been dropped, and a Good Samaritan was calling a number in the contacts to try to return it. But in his line of business, it was always better to be safe than sorry.

"Yo, Shindo-san! We've got something here that we think is yours, so maybe you'd like to come pick it up? Here, gimme a sec. Can you see us?"

Ainosuke froze as he recognized the voice. With his heart sinking, he lowered his phone again, staring at the video being displayed on the screen.

A large, buff man in a white suit was sitting on a couch, his arm extending out of frame showing that he was the one taking the video. But his other arm was draped around a younger man in casual clothing. His companion didn't seem to be hurt or in any particular distress, but Ainosuke's hand clenched into a fist as he recognized him.

"So, yeah, see this kid?" Nanjo continued, unnecessarily dragging the phone closer to frame the other man better. "He ran up a pretty big bill and then tried to run off without paying. 400,000 yen! So of course we had to stop him, and he mentioned that he knew you, so I figured, well, maybe you could help him out?"

"Langa. Are you alright?" Ainosuke ignored Nanjo's blathering, his eyes fixed on Langa's through the screen.

"Huh? Yeah. Sorry about this, Ai," Langa replied, as unaffected as always. "I'm not sure what happened, though."

"Hey, did you hear me?" Nanjo interrupted, turning the screen away from Langa to focus on himself. "Who's going to take responsibility for this, Shindo-san? We run a business here, you know. If it was just a couple thousand yen, we could swallow the cost, but it's 400,000! 400,000!"

"I heard you the first time," Ainosuke snapped, irritated. He pulled his cigarette case from the pocket of his jacket, extracting one of the thin sticks and lighting up. The first lungful of smoke helped to settle the worst of his anger before he turned his attention back to the screen, scowling.

"And what I heard is that you trapped a katagi1 with bottakuri2, you swindler. How is one person going to run up a tab that high unless you're playing dirty tricks?"

But Nanjo just scoffed. "Don't try to take the moral high ground here, Shindo. You do the same thing in your shops. Besides, how can he be katagi if he's involved with you? So are you going to do anything about this, or are we gonna get the money out of this brat, one way or another?"

"You know I'm coming. Where the fuck are you?"

"I'm heading over to the main office now, with the kid. See you there!" Nanjo winked, and then the call cut off. With a snarl, Ainosuke slammed his fist down on his table next to the phone, but the heavy wood barely moved.

With sharp, jerky movements, Ainosuke replaced his phone in his pocket and straightened his tie before leaving the office, barely glancing at Tadashi as he bowed to the boss.

"Thank you for your hard work."

"Forget about that," Ainosuke snapped. "I need a ride to the Sakurayashiki main office."

Crisply, he began walking down the hallway as his wakagashira3 fell in step beside him. There was a faint trace of concern on Tadashi's usually expressionless face as he asked, "Should I call up some of our men?"

"No. It's not a raid. Just picking up something that belongs to me," Ainosuke replied with a scowl. Tadashi nodded, calling ahead to have a car prepared, though he slid into the driver's seat himself once they'd stepped out onto the street. As the city passed by outside his window, Ainosuke glared at it without seeing it, his mind working through what must have happened.

A girl--or a man, he supposed--grabbing Langa and dragging him into a club. Perhaps they'd even been told to keep an eye out for the young man with the pale blue hair, just to put Ainosuke in this situation. Keeping him there as they drank around him and tried to ply him with drinks--though Langa seemed sober enough on the call--and then presenting him with an exorbitant bill when he tried to leave.

It was a common enough scam, certainly, but Nanjo was wrong: Ainosuke didn't tolerate it in his clubs. At least, not anymore. The yakuza's power was waning, and as tourism increased, the police were beginning to crack down on that sort of behavior so that the area wouldn't gain a bad reputation. And it probably wouldn't be long until Sakurayashiki followed suit: his rival took a highly analytical and practical approach to business. He'd soon realize that dealing with the police wasn't worth the extra money the trick occasionally brought in when some of his clubs started getting investigated for extortion.

"We're here."

Ainosuke looked up as Tadashi slid smoothly into a space by the curb, waiting for the other man to open the door for him before he stepped out, straightening his suit jacket. Sighing, he looked up at the nondescript office building before walking inside with Tadashi on his heels.

At this hour, it seemed like most of the members were gone, which was fortunate. He didn't have to deal with all the macho posturing that typically came with stepping into someone else's territory, even though he'd been issued an invitation. Even so, his anger simmered silently below the surface as they stepped into the sleek, mirrored elevators and pressed the button for the top floor.

And then his shoes were clicking against the immaculately polished floor as he strode down the hallway, pushing open a pair of chrome and glass doors. His eyes flicked around the room quickly, taking in the pink-haired man sitting behind a fancy, futuristic-looking desk, his green-haired goon standing just behind him, and Langa, sitting on a couch against the wall.

"Alright, I'm here to settle that damn bill," he snapped at Nanjo as he raised his arm outward and slightly to the side. At the unspoken invitation, Langa slid off the couch to stand next to him, allowing Ainosuke to drape an arm over his shoulders possessively.

"About that." Sakurayashiki was frowning slightly, and Ainosuke turned his gaze toward the other boss.

"Nanjo was wrong to do what he did, but it still stands that the costs for the drinks were incurred. I don't want any bad blood between us, so I'd like to at least offer you a chance to cancel this debt."

Ainosuke's eyes narrowed, but he nodded his head slightly. "Go on."

"You see, there's a small poker tournament in Macau next week. It's nothing serious, just a social gathering for my group. The buy-in is just 1000 HKD, or about 14,000 yen. Whichever of us gets knocked out first will shoulder the bill, sound fair?"

Ainosuke considered it for half a second. "No. I'm not going to play with your family. Here's my offer. We go to Macau and agree on a table when we get there. We'll settle it honestly, or Langa can just go to the police to report Nanjo's business."

Sakurayashiki sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Alright, I got it. Next Saturday, then? Call me when you get there."

Ainosuke nodded, then turned on his heel to leave, steering Langa out with him as Tadashi followed them silently.

"Sorry, Ai," Langa apologized again once the transparent doors had closed behind them, but Ainosuke shook his head.

"It isn't your fault. I didn't think they'd use you to try to get to me. You don't feel weird or anything, right?"

"I'm fine."

"That's good. I'll see you home anyways. Your mother must be worried."

Although he tried to present a calm facade so as not to worry Langa, inside, Ainosuke was furious. He'd intentionally decided not to marry Nanako to try to protect her and her son from this side of his life, and yet, Nanjo had so easily stepped over the line between the legal and illegal. Of course, they'd all been aware of the risks of the relationship, but he didn't tell them anything about his work when he visited them so that they would hopefully be left alone. And this was so incredibly petty: it wasn't like there was a territorial dispute or the need to compensate for a killing where a hostage might be useful. No, just to harass him, they'd involved someone innocent.

"Ai?"

He realized that his arm around Langa's shoulders was holding the boy too tightly, and he forced himself to relax as they walked out of the building and to the car.

"So, are you interested in seeing Macau?" he asked as he held the door open for the boy to get in.

1katagi: non-yakuza 2bottakuri: bait-and-switch 3wakagashira: first lieutenant

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clintbartonswife · 5 years ago

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'cause darling I was born to press my head between your shoulder blades

Pairings: Geralt of Rivia x Jaskier, Yennefer x Triss Summary: Geralt uses his braincell, Jaskier no longer has to doubt and Ciri and Yennefer plot. Notes: mentions of injury, recovery, self-doubt, nakedness, thoughts of sex but no graphic descriptions masterlist || one || two || three || four || five || seven

Waking up in Geralt’s lap was not an experience Jaskier thought he would ever have, but one that was every bit as good as he imagined it would be.

The bard laid there for a few moments in shocked wonder, his foggy brain reeling as he tried to grasp that this was happening, when Geralt’s voice startled him.

“I know you’re awake”

Through the thickness of his embarrassment, Jaskier could’ve sworn that the Witcher sounded amused. Peaking one eye open to make sure, he held back his shock at the small smile pulling at the man’s lips.

“‘m ‘wake” he mumbled, body preparing to move, “s’rry I kept you”

Sword-calloused hands gently gripped his arms, assisting him into an upright position.

“You didn't keep me” his voice was soft, and the Witcher hesitated slightly, before quietly adding, “it was nice to hold you”

Jaskier’s cheeks blazed, a meek smile pulling at his lips.

The two of them sat in silence for a few moments, neither of them willing to move and break the contact between their bodies, Jaskier revelling in the warmth that poured from the Witcher’s body.

“My face...” the bard trailed off again head turning to vacantly stare at the mirror, self-hatred starting to brew within him once again.

Geralt frowned, hating the despondent look on his face, tightening his hold ever so slightly, “Holds the proof of your bravery”

“They ruined me”

The whispered admission rung out across the room like a scream, the broken edge to the words stabbing through Jaskier’s heart. Silence descended once more, though this time weighted with the acknowledgement of what was lost.

“When you see my scars... do you think they are disgusting?”

“What? Of course not! Geralt who would dare -”

A flash of realisation flashed over the bard’s face, the smaller man relaxing back into Geralt’s arms, “Oh, I see what you’re doing. Clever Witcher”

The deep chuckle rumbled from the Witcher’s chest, Jaskier smiling despite himself at the rare noise.

The two of them sat there for the rest of the morning.

"Hey, Ciri. Can you come here for a moment?”

The young girl walked into the kitchen, curious eyes immediately fixing on to Jaskier sat in the corner, face pale but looking proud of himself.

“Jaskier!” she squealed, rushing over to give him a careful hug, warmth blooming inside her at the smile that pulled at the man’s lips, “You made it down!”

“And all by myself as well” he replied, chin resting on the top of her head. He then dropped his voice to a whisper, leaning down to whisper in her ear conspiringly, “Geralt tried to carry me down but I wouldn't let him”

Ciri giggled at the image, stepping back to finally face Triss, “You called me?”

The sorceress nodded fondly, gesturing for her to come over to the stove, “Yesterday you asked to learn potions -”

Ciri squealed, “Really? You’ll really let me?”

The woman laughed, shaking her head at her excitement, “Not so fast, princess. Before letting you near potions, I want to see how you handle cooking”

The blonde’s smile dropped, leaving a look of confused distaste, “Cooking?”

Jaskier muffled a snicker from where he was sat, earning a glare from the young girl.

“Yes, cooking. If you can successfully make a stew without burning the cottage down then I can assume that you’re also capable of doing the same for potions”

Ciri’s frown didn't dissipate, crossing her arms as she grumbled.

“Of course” Yennefer interrupted, a teasing lilt to her voice, “If you don't want to you can just go back to doing weapon drills with Geralt”

At that the princess jumped to attention, peering into the simmering pot with exaggerated interest, “So cooking?”

Jaskier laughed again, a strong hearty sound, at the look of offence that flashed across the Witcher’s face, “I’m sure she only meant that she wanted to try something new Geralt. You don't have to look so shocked”

The Witcher grumbled something under his breath, though Ciri could see the sides of his lips quirk into an almost invisible smile. The expression warmed something within her, looking between the two men with barely reserved curiosity. If Jaskier could make Geralt smile that easily, she wondered why the two of them were so obviously distancing themselves, to the point of sitting on opposite sides of the kitchen.

Yen smirked from beside her, a knowing glint in her eye.

“Men can be idiots sometimes” the sorceress whispered, “these two especially”

Ciri nodded, a plan brewing in her head. Seeing this, Yennefer snorted, “Excellent idea princess”

“If we have to move tomorrow, would it be too much hassle to ask for a bath?”

Jaskier sunk back into his chair as all eyes swirled back to him, a small embarrassed noise escaping his lips, “Or not. Never mind - forget i asked”

“Don't be silly bard” Yennefer chastised, looking him up and down, “You need a bath. I just don't think you’re strong enough to bathe yourself yet without accidentally drowning and Melitele knows I’m not going to help you”

Ciri nodded earnestly, “I’d be worried”

She then turned to fix her violet eyes on Triss pointedly, the sorceress shrugging with a small smile, “Sorry Jaskier, but giving you that sponge bath when you first got here was the extent of my generosity in that area”

Jaskier sighed disappointedly, shoulders sagging in defeat, “Oh well. Cant blame me for asking, thank you for-”

“I can help”

Geralt spoke so quietly that Jaskier almost missed it, but judging from the predatory smile that rose on Yennefer and Ciri’s face, there was no escaping.

“What a wonderful idea, Geralt”

The bard turned to face him, eyes wide, “If it’s not too much trouble...”

The Witcher looked pained, clearing his throat before offering his hand, nodding towards the doorway, “Not at all. I’d be ... glad to help”

Jaskier raised from his seat unsteadily, grasping the hand to steady himself, all the while trying to will away the blush that was steadily creeping up his neck at the thought of Geralt near his naked body.

As they walked to the bathroom, his thoughts strayed to their earlier conversations - confessions masked with shy smiles. He frowned, doubt seeping into his mind. Had they confessed? Or was Jaskier reading in to something that wasn't there yet again?

He had asked Geralt about the sorceress - he was sure of it. Geralt hadn't denied their involvement, just changed the subject completely.

“You alright?”

Jaskier slapped on a quick smile, flashing it at the older man with a nod, before the thoughts took hold of him again.

If he was in fact still with Yennefer, then why did she seem so determined to get Geralt to help Jaskier bathe. Was she teasing him? No. They were friends now, surely.

‘not even monsters will want you now’

A small whimper escaped his lips as he became overwhelmed, limbs becoming shaky. Would they leave him behind as they moved on? Left alone to be captured again -

“Jaskier, hey - hey look at me. Focus on me,” Geralt said, his voice soothing the bard, “That’s it, good boy”

The praise seemed to electrify Jaskier, another whimper escaping him. Geralt’s eyes widened slightly, the older man filing that information away for later, before helping Jaskier to sit down on the side of the tub.

“Sorry” he mumbled, eyes still locked with Geralt’s amber ones.

“Nothing to be sorry about” Geralt replied, lifting his left hand to cup the bard’s cheek gently, the other keeping him steady on the rim of the bath tub, “What set you off?”

Jaskier breathed out shakily, deciding to narrowly avoid the problem, “When... when you all leave, am I coming with you?”

Geralt blinked, a look of confusion and hurt flashing across his eyes, “of course you are. Why would you think that we were leaving you?”

A bitter chuckle escaped his lips, “Look at me Geralt. I’m only going to slow you down. Plus, you and Yennefer are going to get bored of having me around again at some point and it’ll be the mountain all over again -”

Geralt frowned, things suddenly starting to make a lot more sense.

“Jaskier... Yennefer and I are not together”

The bard spluttered, eyes widening, “I - what - “

The soft smile returned to Geralt’s face, the man now knowing how to fix the situation, “We’re not together. We decided that we could work together for Ciri but that’s it”

“So... what you said the other day... I didnt read that wrong?”

Jaskier flushed, ducking his head as his hopeful question settled heavily in the air. The bard wanted to move, to submerge himself in the magically conjured water behind him - anything to escape the sudden hush that had fallen over the room.

Instead, he found his chin being guided upwards, lips caressing his softly - hesitantly. Before he had time to react, the Witcher withdrew.

“I’m sorry I -”

Getting his wits back, Jaskier launched himself at Geralt, reattaching their lips with a smile, hands cupping the sides of his face. The Witcher let out a shocked noise, before melting into the embrace, his strong arms wrapping around the bard’s waist and holding him securely, not letting him fall.

Detaching their lips for breath, Jaskier grinned, happiness overwhelming him.

“Well, dearheart, I can safely say that was every bit as amazing as I thought it would be”

Geralt smiled shyly, his swollen lips giving him a look so utterly debauched that it took everything in Jaskier to not attack him once again. Instead, sparing a thought for how his body ached just from the make out session, he reached out with his hands, entwining them with the Witcher’s.

Sensing he wasn't going to speak, Jaskier spared a glance at the water, raising an eyebrow, “If it’s all the same to you, I’d still love to have my bath. Will you still help me?”

As if waiting for an instruction, Geralt nodded and pressed a kiss to Jaskier’s hairline before releasing his hands and moving over to a bag in the corner of the room.

“I thought you might like to use these” he said, presenting a jar of bath salts.

Jaskier’s smile widened, nodding, “Yes please dear”

Geralt seemed to swell slightly with pride, dropping a few of the salts in the bath before putting the jar aside, turning back to him and carefully removing his shoes. Jaskier began to hum as Geralt worked to undress him, filling the silence almost absentmindedly.

“I missed you on the road” Geralt said, his low voice hesitating as he reached the buttons for his shirt, eyes flicking up for permission.

Jaskier smiled hesitantly at him, humming his assent, watching as Geralt took the last piece of clothing off, revealing his body. Turning around without a word, Jaskier climbed into the tub, flinching at Geralt’s sharp inhale.

A light touch ghosted over the whip-scars on his back, the sensation making Jaskier shiver, shoulder’s tensing as he waited for him to leave - to be so disgusted by what he saw that he had to walk away before the sight of Jaskier made him sick.

‘you’re ruined little birdy, who’s gonna love you now’

He was stupid to think that Geralt could’ve possibly-

The Witcher’s head rested gently between his shoulder blades, lingering there for a few seconds.

“I should’ve made them suffer” Geralt snarled, retracting from his body, instead gripping the side of the tub so hard the copper groaned.

Shocked, Jaskier turned, only to be met with a face full of grief and regret, not a sign of disgust anywhere. Relaxing slightly, Jaskier placed a hand over his, gazing up at the Witcher with barely restrained adoration.

“You killed them” he said, squeezing his hand reassuringly, “They cant hurt me anymore”

Geralt ‘hmm’ed, lifting his spare hand to trace the bard’s cheek. He closed his eyes, enjoying the gentle touch, and leaned into the hand, “You saved me from them, Geralt. Without you I don't know where I’d be”

The raw honesty made Jaskier shiver, the reality of the situation making his bones ache in his body as remembered the endless days of torture. Geralt frowned, sensing the bard’s discomfort and knelt by the side of the bath so that they were level.

“It’s my fault that you were there in the first place”

“Geralt, no. You cant think like that” Jaskier murmured, sadness lining his every feature, “None of it was your fault - I’m a bard, these risks come with the job”

“But they asked you about me” Geralt replied, voice cracking.

“And I would’ve gladly died before letting you up”

A growl ripped from the Witcher’s chest, “No”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry - that was the wrong thing to say”

Jaskier reached up to smooth the frown lines from the Witcher’s face, before leaning forwards and connecting their lips once more in a chaste kiss, “We’re safe... Now if you really don't mind I would love for you to wash my hair”

Geralt huffed a laugh at Jaskier’s bluntness, pressing their foreheads together for a brief time, then moving to pick up a clean rag from the chair next to the tub. Jaskier let out a sigh as he turned and relaxed against the side of the tub, finally letting the warm water soothe his aches and pains.

Dipping the rag into the water, he lathered on some soap and started to gently clean Jaskier’s chest, anger simmering at every glimpse of the bruises that painted his skin.

“They’re just battle scars, dearheart” Jaskier smiled sleepily, watching Geralt through lidded eyes.

He just grunted, working to methodically purge every inch of his body of their touch. He’s so focused on his movements that he doesn't notice Jaskier drifting off to sleep until the soft snores register to his hearing. A soft smile settles on his lips at the blissful expression on his bard’s face.

“Jask” he murmurs, stroking his cheek gently, “Jask you need to wake up so I can do your hair”

The bard startled out of sleep, eyes wide, “wha-?”

As he caught sight of Geralt, he calmed, settling back against the tub with a tired smile, “ah, I didn't mean to fall asleep on you, my love”

Geralt could feel a flush creep up his neck at the endearment, flashing a small smile at the bard, “You needed it... you looked peaceful”

Jaskier huffed a small laugh, hand reaching to cup the one the Witcher had still cupping his face, “Are you trying to charm me, dear?”

Scoffing, Geralt pulled away, reaching for the small cup he had placed at his side, “Sit up so I can wash your hair”

“Youre avoiding the question” Jaskier sing-songed, a cheeky grin on his face as he moved to a upwards position.

The Witcher shushed him, dunking the cup and gently pouring the water over his head, taking care not to get it in his eyes. All the while, Jaskier watched him with an awed reverence that flustered the Witcher. He was almost glad when Jaskier’s eyes fluttered shut as Geralt massaged the soap into his hair, freeing him from the admiration.

“We’ll be okay” Jaskier breathed, a small nod of his head accompanying the statement. Realising the bard was talking to himself, Geralt stayed quiet, his chest lightening at the first sign of emotional healing.

They were going to be okay.

________________________________________________________________

@kittynannygaming @fillingless-piee @nanazlovese @anotherunoriginal @baron-von-wilderpants @whumpeeee @rainwaterapothecary @mazydog @vandersummer @puer-de-infinitate

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hopeless-ro-simptic · 4 years ago

Text

The Death of A Demon - Pt 1

Part 2 is out!

Part 1 of my pride and joy that I have been working on for the last couple months! The Feral fic. This is an OC that I created based off of the idea of not all quirks in the MHA/BNHA universe are “good” ones, and by that I mean that some quirks are awful to have. This focuses on the problems that come from quirks.

Basic Summary- Feral is on the run from her past due to her quirk, working as a bounty hunter/mercernary and keeping to the shadows of Japan, she’s doing a good job of being invisible. Until one fateful night when she decides to be a good guy for once and ends up kind of saving a reporter who gets her on the news. Thus we start the downwards spiral that is her life, getting the league to help her out when an old foe shows up on Japan’s front door.

Just letting you know now, things are NOT explained in the beginning regarding the main character. Like you don’t even know her quirk for a good minute. I did this on purpose. I think it works better if you are in the dark, but don’t worry, everything gets explained in great detail as the story goes on.

Please read warnings: This is one big warning, it would be shorter to put what’s not in this fic, but here is a quick over all warning list, each part will have specific warnings as they are posted. Multiship, unhealthy relationships, nsfw, sexy times, graphic depictions of violence, murder, death, non-con, abuse of alcohol and drugs, main character is not in control, major character deaths, child abuse, also references to heaven and hell as well as demons. Let me know if I need to add another big one.

Pairings: Female OC X Dabi, Female OC X Shigaraki, Female OC X Compress

Word Count: 1.4 k

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Mh…authentic spicey ramen. One of the many reasons why Feral loved Japan so much. Their food was so different, but it was so, so good. Finishing off the last of the broth, she set her bowl down, before calling out to the worker for another.

“Little lady has quite the appetite tonight.” Feral ignored the man’s comment, her fourth bowl of ramen being placed in front of her quickly to which she thanked the young worker before digging in.

“An interesting choice in accessories don’t you think?” She could feel his eyes ranking up and down her body, focusing on the black collar wrapped around her neck, a chain dangling down about a foot before slowly fading out of existence. Like a ghost. To anyone on the outside, it looked like it just stopped there, like a fashion choice, but Feral knew that chain went on for miles. Tethering her to something deep in hell.

“What is a pretty foreigner like you doing all alone in the big city this time of night?” She could see him leaning on the counter, his head in one hand, the other resting on top of the counter. He looked so casual, but she knew better, men like him were always poised to strike, dangling their bait waiting for the perfect moment when your guard was down before they moved in for the kill.

“Why don’t I buy you a drink? You look a little parched.” His hand that his head wasn’t leaning on raised and reached out to her, like he was going to stroke her hair away.

Disgusting.

She was quicker than he was, switching her chopsticks over to her left hand, gripping the back of his head with her right and slamming it down against the counter, an audible crack sounding causing the worker to jump back, eyes wide as they stared at the scene. Feral released the businessman before switching her chopsticks back over into her dominant hand, eyes focused on the ramen in front of her.

The offender was slow to stand up, his hand cupping his nose, practically whimpering at the bloody mess he was greeted with.

“Y-you bitch! You broke my nose!”

“Leave.” Feral shifted her eyes over to the man, usually brown eyes glowing red, her voice turning into a low animalistic growl. Her features almost sharpening, looking more crazed and dangerous than before. Teeth elongating, nails sharpening to a lethal point.

The man backed up with his hands up slowly, before turning and taking off into a full sprint. Feral snorted, going back to her ramen, glancing up at the worker who was watching her intently before sending them a weak smile.

“Can I get just one more please?”

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

It was well past midnight at this point, and Feral was stumbling around, drunk off of good food and not to mention the latest of her Tequila bottles gripped in her hand, wrapped in a brown paper bag. She had once again found herself lost in back alleyways that she did not recognize, her sense of direction completely off kilter now that she had her third bottle of tequila in her system. She felt good. Finally enjoying a buzz that she had worked so hard for. She probably shouldn’t have eaten if she wanted to get drunk, it would have been cheaper, but she wanted to be buzzed, not sick.

After turning a couple of corners and finally catching sight of a street-sign that looked somewhat familiar, she picked up her pace, thinking of the bed that awaited her once she made it back to her tiny apartment. She was going so fast she almost didn’t see the man in front of her, halting a few steps away watching as the scene unfolds.

A man, well… a rather large, gross looking, … is he supposed to be a fly or something? of a man had a young women pressed against the brick walls of the alley way. Feral watched with disgust, feeling her stomach turn, as the fly looking … thing, pressed his lather large and almost tube-like mouth to the woman’s cheek making her sob out pleads to let her go.

He was messy about his ‘loving kisses’, like he was licking her almost, leaving saliva… god she hoped it was saliva, all across the woman’s face. His skinny arms, all four of them groped her up and down and his annoyingly high pitched and scratchy voice coo’d out to the girl, making both women shudder in disgust.

“You’ll look so good carrying my eggs…”

Feral couldn’t stop herself from gagging, gaining the attention of both of them. The women’s eyes looking hopeful as she called out, her voice sounding ragged.

“Please! Help me!”

“Go away, this isn’t your business!”

When he shifted his positions to face her, while still holding his victim against the wall, Feral could have sworn she saw four of him, her head was spinning and she couldn’t help but take a step back to get her footing, setting her tequila down on the ground. Getting a good look at him now that he was looking directly at her, he looked familiar almost… Feral could almost be certain he had a bounty out on him for slighting one of the fancy “business” men around this area. Hm…did it say dead or alive?

“Hey, bitch, I said get out of here.”

Feral couldn’t remember for the life of her. Maybe it said both?

He was quicker than she expected though, or maybe she was just that drunk, cause the next thing she knew he was in her face, peering down at her angrily with his beady eyes that shown hundreds of reflections of her own self. She looked a mess.

“Maybe I should have you carrying my eggs. Clearly, you want to be bred if you’re wearing a collar out in public like that. What are you, some kind of dog?”

One of his gross little hands, if you could call them that… they were more like… graspers? Claws?, gripped onto the chain, not seeming to notice that the length wavered as he moved it like it was coming from an unknown source, giving it a testing yank to which Feral let out a warning growl, her mind clearing slightly.

“Don’t touch that, bug.” Feral felt her eyes starting to glow red, the voice in her head getting louder and louder even though she had drank it away. Inky black trendils gripping ahold of her mind, caressing her like a lost lover.

Isabella.

The fly man in front of her ignored her remark, his grip tightening instead on her, all four hands grasping different parts of her now, his gross mouth making kissing noises at her as he drew nearer.

“You look like you will be a good mate. A little smaller than her in the chest area, but I’m sure we can fix that. You’ll be a good girl won’t yo-”

He barely had time to scream, a high pitch that was cut off instantly. Red eyes glowing in the night as Feral stared down at the fly-man a crazed smile on her face, his head was twisted backwards, two of his arms severed and bleeding, still attached to the chain where he had gripped her for a moment before she pulled them off discarding them on top of his lifeless form on the ground. There was a momentary spasm in his body before it stopped. His wings which Feral hadn’t noticed until now, wilting against the gravel.

“I hope you were wanted dead.”

Feral pulled out her phone, scrolling through things before pulling up the bulletin with his face on it.

A low level thug, wanted for sexually assaulting someone’s wife. 2,000,000 yen.

She scanned the page, a smirk forming on her face as she noted the words at the bottom.

Wanted Dead.

She quickly took a picture. Sending a message to the requestor, her smile growing wider when mere seconds later she got a notification that money was deposited in her account.

What a lucky night.

She picked up her discarded bottle of tequila, making her way through the alley and winding up back at her apartment by some lucky miracle. The voice in her head quiet once again.

It wasn’t until she was halfway asleep did she even remember the other woman that was there, shrugging to herself, a slight smile on her lips that she was able to save someone for once.

She probably wouldn’t have felt so satisfied if she knew who that woman was.

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

Want to show your support? Buy me a coffee!

#oc fanfic #bnha fic #mha fic #mha oc #bnha oc #oc x shigaraki #oc x dabi #oc x compress #Feral Fic

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godhandler · 4 months ago

Text

underground boxer!geto x always-bets-on-him!gojo

“Gonna meet him today at least, champion?” Shiu, boxing manager ever unflappable, leans against the lockers. Cigarette butts, mannerless spit, crushed energy drink cans, orphaned underwear littered about the dingy greenroom. Showbizz cheapness. Suguru doesn’t look like he belongs here. You don't, Shiu had told him, pressed-shirt schoolboy who’d showed up to fight for a couple hundred yen. Grab the money and fuck off the second you can.

Suguru’s hair is longer now. College scholarship, parents he doesn’t talk to, steady paycheck from the steady boxing wins. Right now, Suguru wipes the sweat off his shoulders and re-fixes his bun. Fine then, if you don’t want to leave. Go professional, kid. You’ve got what it takes. Shiu still doesn’t get it, does he? That Suguru Geto enjoys it? The disgusting stale-sweat smell, the filthy betters, the peanut baskets and the puking outside the rails? Growing pains, he calls it, the genuine delight of broken ribs and bloody mouths writhing on the ground of the ring, begging for his mercy, the crowd chanting his name, calls for execution, the god-like adrenaline of the moment?

Suguru would sooner acknowledge that private tinge of insane evil in his constitution than leave the underground arena where he indulges in it.

“Hey, boy!” Shiu snaps his fingers. “I said, Gojo-sama’s outside again. I’m telling you, meet him once, it’ll be good for us all.”

“Didn’t you tell me not to mess with the rich folks?” Suguru is adamant. “Heir of the Gojo clan? Nah, he’ll want some weird shit. For the last time, Shiu, I’m not gonna fuck any of their ugly asses.”

Shiu drops and crushes his cigarette out with his shoe.

“Or their wives either. Now,” Suguru pulls his sweatshirt on. For a famous (as in, famous within the wrong circles) underground boxer, he had his head on straight. “Pay me out and clock me out. I’m gonna soak in an sauna, Nanami fucked my right arm up.”

“Some rinky-dinky sauna like this room? I own a better one, you know?” Young Satoru Gojo, peeping uninvited through the door, wasn't of the sort to cast favourable first impressions. Or the second, or the third, to be honest. He was of the sort to rely on his dashing doll-shine looks and wallet fatter than Somalia’s GDP to overcome his personality. Unfortunately, Suguru Geto wasn’t so inclined.

“Is knocking going out of fashion, sh–?”

“– Gojo-sama! What an honour!” Shiu bowed politely. He didn’t like Gojo any better than Geto did, but at his age, he could smell the money (and beer) on the heir. He plays this correctly and he’ll be vacationing in Majorca next week. “I suppose you two boys haven’t met each other?”

“Satoru Gojo, big fan.” Hand extended, teeth-fangs grinning.

Impolite. Annoying, Suguru assessed. Interesting. “Suguru Geto, thanks.” Firm handshake. Confident…too confident.

“Would you want a good sauna? I could take you to one in Shinjuku, it’s a bit late but hey, you’ve made me a fortune today!” Gojo pats his pocket happily, a dull rustle of stashed cash.

Just like the others. Typical. If Suguru was even a little interested in Satoru, that was the end of it. “Pardon me, but I haven’t the time tonight.” And just to twist the knife further into the boy’s falling smile, he added, “Other patrons, you see.”

Suguru packed his duffle bag up and left. The air out the arena was cold, the feeling of Satoru’s eyes watching him everywhere.

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cheezritsu · 4 years ago

Text

Atsumu Miya || Unravelling

[Uhn•rav•uhl] verb, informal. to take apart; undo; destroy

Warnings: implied sex, mentions of sex, quick depiction of self harming behaviors (not explicit.) Inspired by SZA’s Supermodel

It must be considered deviant and demonic how the constant the thud thud THUD! Rings out with an even pace in the hallway of Tokyo’s finest apartment complexes. If it weren’t for the fact that calling the police would no doubt result in a press field day none of the residents of Park Mansion Akasaka wanted, someone would have filed a noise complaint. It’s a shame they did not—perhaps there might be a certain clout that comes with exposing MSBY setter Miya Atsumu’s intimate life, but it would also have saved time, money, and tears in the long run.

But, the residents of the 9th floor could not see into the future. They were instead, attempting to mind their business and not be bothered by Miya trying to make back beats by fucking someone into a mattress.

That little comparison was Osamu’s first scathing critique, until he froze completely. The disgust melted into horror as he turned his head to his companion.

“Hey-,” he starts, but as he catches the expression, the words dry up.

Yes, it would have been nicer—no, merciful—if the residents of the 9th floor had called the police when this happened, if only to spare you from witnessing it yourself.

Your hands get so clammy, the plastic bag in your hand nearly slips out. You catch yourself before the beer bottles can shatter on the marble floor that costs more than your entire block. It’s an easy clean up, but it would probably be very sticky, and disastrous, you think. Almost as disastrous as—

It starts up again, rhythmic and constant like an orchestrated performance. You and Osamu are mere steps outside the apartment, and you can hear the manic, frayed screams coming from the walls. It sounds like they’re in pain; just the way Atsumu likes it.

“Y/N,” Osamu tries once again to get your attention. The pity in his voice is unmistakable, and you hate that of all the emotions the usually stoic twin shows you, this is the one he’s chosen. Pity. Sympathy.

“Guess that’s why he didn’t pick up the phone,” you remark casually, refusing to look Osamu in the eye. “I’ll just leave it by his door with a note.”

Osamu says your name, this time with a firm edge that demands attention. You don’t give it to him. You’re too busy trying not to actively throw the takeout and beer you bought out of your measly paycheck to help your friend (attachment, entanglement, dick appointment, are all better words than friend) feel better after a crushing defeat at the hands of the Saitama Spears. (Crushing, like his hands must be around her neck for the moans to sound so strangled.) No matter, you say to yourself, hands shaking as you send him a text. Something cute and sweet with a properly sickening amount of heart emojis, like any good (not quite) girlfriend would do. Whatever it takes.

Ignoring how the click of your heels mesh with the steady thrum of Atsumu’s two thousand yen headboard against his 100 million yen walls, you march back the exact way you came; down the white, sterile hallway and passed the doors that housed the rest of the 9th floor, who would, unknowingly, pay for the mistake of not asking the shameless Atsumu Miya to please, please keep his fucking at a tolerable volume. Fame and infamy come with perks, one supposes, but they also come with karma.

You’re not thinking of revenge, though. You’re wondering how you’ll make it to the elevator without completely coming apart at the seams. Something in you unravels, much like it might if Atsumu were playing you like the fool you were; perfectly manicured setter hands curling, scratching, plucking at all the right places. No, this unravelling is much slower, much more painful, as if the single thread that creates your existence is being snipped in half. When you push the call button for the elevator, you think the thread is severed completely, because you have to lean your head on the cold steel to steady yourself.

Osamu’s approaching footsteps really only register in the very depths of your mind. The heavy breathing doesn’t really sound like yours—how could it be anyways, when you were miles away from your body, floating in the ether like a ghost; forgotten, discarded, alone. Untethered.

You lift your head up only to bang it against the wall. The soft thud is reminiscent of the moment that just transpired, and you—subconsciously, like you were possessed—start bashing your forehead to the same piledriver waltz Atsumu had played.

“Y/N!” Pity. Bang! Worry. Bang! Sympathy. Bang! Could you crush your skull this way? The mystery woman’s screams tangle in your brain like an earworm, the salacious sounds on repeat. Bang!

When Osamu’s hand lands on your shoulders, it feels like he’s tethered your soul back into your body. You wrench yourself out of his grip.

“Don’t!-” you begin to scream, but you catch the look he gives you. His grey-brown eyes are wet with concern, darting between the growing red spot on your forehead to the watery snarl on your lips. You take a shuddering breath to keep the hysteria from bubbling into your tone. “Don’t touch me. I’m fine.”

Osamu doesn’t even raise an eyebrow in pretence. His mask of neutrality and sarcasm is completely gone, replaced with anger. “You were banging your head into the wall like a patient in a psych ward.”

“That’s unnecessarily stereotypical, Osamu. I thought you were better than that.”

Crossed arms. He’s seconds away from blowing his lid. “Yer not funny.”

You wonder what would happen if Osamu blanked on you in here. Would these good-for-nothing neighbors actually call the police then? What a headline: Miya twins apprehended in two separate noise complaints. Kita would probably stop sending Osamu rice out of embarrassment.

You don’t want to fight Osamu anyways. It’s not his fault that the bearer of his face is fucking another girl as you speak.

The elevator dings, and you step inside. It’s fortunately empty. Osamu stands right next to you, hovering like an overprotective parent. The chrome doors of the elevator slide shut and you’re face to face with your own reflection: hollow, sunken eyes the most expensive concealer can’t fix; posture hunched from years of slaving over work and school; nails short and busted from part time jobs that barely pay the bills. Nails that have been raked down the chiseled, marble back of a man who didn’t belong to you, and never did.

Her nails were probably nicer. Probably manicured. Maybe he paid for it. You can’t even see your nails anymore, because your head is in your hands, shielding your ugly cries from Osamu, who bears the face of the man who doesn’t love you.

“I should have just taken the fucking hint,” you sniffle, wiping the running eyeliner from the corner of your eye. “Shoulda left him alone.”

Osamu just hums. You wished it was anyone else but him. Osamu isn’t bad at a lot of things, but comfort was one of them. He just stares vacantly at the doors, a grimace replacing his usual thin lipped look, but other than that he appears unbothered.

And then, like he’s reading condolences off a list, he says: “I’m sorry.”

The words in their sincerity sound foreign on his tongue. With one big sniff you pull the thread keeping you together tightly, gathering yourself. “What’re you apologising for? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Sorry my brother is a complete piece of shit.”

“Well, we both knew that, didn’t we.”

Osamu can’t place what he dislikes about that phrase, but the elevator interrupts his thought process. The doors open to reveal one of the security guards eying you two up and down. His eyes narrow for a moment on Osamu’s face, and then dip down to yours.

“There a problem here, Miya-san?”

On any other day he might have pulled a fast one on this guard, but you promptly walk out of the elevator, leaving Osamu to follow your lead wordlessly. The world outside the Park Mansion Akasaka is still turning, still bustling with people catching trains home from work, their patent leather shoes from office jobs clicking on the sidewalk to a rhythm you can’t match. The thud of the salarymen’s briefcases hitting their legs echo like the headboard off Atsumu’s walls. It’s everywhere, everywhere, and your insides churn sickeningly.

You stop, one hand leaning against the glass. Osamu catches up, hands halting just before they reach your back. “Stop running away from me, name,” he says softly, exasperated. “I’m trying to help.”

“How long.”

Osamu blinks. “What?”

You’re nearly doubled over with nausea, your free hand pressed flat against your chest to keep your lungs compressing. “How long has he been with her?”

“I don’t know.”

“I swear to god, if you’re lying to me-“

“(Name) I would never do that to you.”

The promise doesn’t reassure you. Osamu runs a hand through his hair. “Look, I know this is a lot to take in right now. And I’m not going to say anything—“

“Like what?” You look at him over your shoulder, eyes squinted in malice. “Like I told you so?”

Your insolence is wearing out Osamu’s sliver of empathy. You’re unbearable like this, you know that, and Osamu is less tolerable than most. “Your words, not mine.”

“Your brother is cheating on me.”

“You’re not together.”

“There it is!” You let your head fall back in rumbling, humorless laughter. “I was waiting for that.”

“I don’t want to be a dick right now.”

“Too late, ‘Samu.” You haul yourself up, buttoning the front of your coat. “Go home, work on your winter menu. I’ll be fine.”

The statement is met with rightful skepticism, but when you start to walk away, Osamu doesn’t follow. You can’t decide whether or not this hurts, because the all encompassing pain finally registers to the rest of your body. You try to numb yourself, dissociating as every step towards home becomes a blur. Akasaka’s beautiful lights and towers fade into lesser Tokyo’s decrepit neighborhoods, with sketchy alleys and dimly lit streets. Your apartment complex is a shoebox to Atsumu’s tower residence, and it feels just as claustrophobic when you step into your crowded, tiny apartment.

It’s nicer than what your friends can afford, but that doesn’t make it any better. Your couch is also your bed, and your desk faces the window even though you can’t properly study this way. The kitchen is perpetually clean because you can’t cook anything in it. You’re sure the fridge is empty, but it’s fine, because you simply peel off your clothing and curl into a ball on your bed.

It’s not even late. You have work and assignments to do, but as you check the time on your phone, you’re immediately taken to your camera roll, where a picture from several days ago stares back at you mockingly.

It’s from his bathroom, the one that has a television screen by the bathtub, the one with hotel lighting that makes you look glowy and ethereal no matter what. You’re half dressed, in the middle of putting on your morning skincare when Atsumu comes up behind you, arms around your waist. Your face is obscured, but you remember how happy and loved you felt to have his lips pressed against your temple, the heat of his body in your side. How surrounded and safe and warm you felt.

But moments are as fleeting and fragile as glass. The illusion has been shattered, and you’re left in a cocoon of blankets nowhere near as satisfactory as his body heat, in a dark and dingy apartment you will probably stay in for the rest of your life.

Just as you’re about to set your alarm for the morning, a notification pops up. The sparkles around his name indicate that Atsumu has finally, finally texted you back.

✨T’sumu✨: sorry I missed you babe I was not in a good place

✨T’sumu✨: you got work tmrrw? You always know how to cheer me up

It’s as if your heart has been snatched out of your rib cage; your chest hollows and collapses as a sob hiccups in your throat. Something wet slides across your temple. It’s not Atsumu’s lips, not even close. You wipe the tears with the back of your hand, and throw your phone across the room.

It shatters.

#atsumu miya #miya atsumu #this makes him seem shitty and hes not #This was hoing to be a very long and spiralling fic where the reader slowly descends into hysteria over being cast aside #i wanted to illustrate how compleltly devastating and upending this is #and i love the word unravelling #haikyuu!!#hq!!#atsumu miya x reader #miya atsumu x reader #reader x miya atsumu #reader x atsumu miya

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shunsatan · 5 years ago

Note

Headcanons for if Kaidou’s sister got a crush on Saiki

Fic time here we go babeyy. Starring the lovely Kaidou Sora.

It was a rough and cold day. One with winds that whipped you back and forth with no mercy. It was the kind of day that would gain your trust by having the sun tickle your skin, and then destroy the fragile warmth with a booming and freezing breeze. Sora wished she had stayed inside instead of going to the store to buy eggs for her mother. She cursed under her breath as another dreaded wind came and tangled her hair.

"Shun...? Shun!" She spotted her older brother loitering outside of another grocery store.

[[MORE]]

"...Sora?" He jumped, turning to face the smaller female "Oh, hey. Heading home?" She nodded.

"Well, I have Saiki with me. I can drive you home though" he turns to the pink haired boy who was still eyeing a rack of coffee jelly from outside of the store window.

"Drive? You can't drive. This isn't America, dumbass. You're not old enough to get a license and you don't even have any type of vehicle with.... you..." she slowed her words upon seeing him walk up and start a motorcycle with some unappealing (not to mention, chuuni) decorations; only shun would decorate something to look that stupid.

"I forgot you had one.." she awed. Though, the last thing she needed was more wind slapping her face "But no thanks. I'll walk. You don't even have an extra helmet."

Saiki turned to the bike he had been pure pressured into bringing. 'Yare yare' he mumbled as he sat down too fast, causing his head to ache. This place was crowded, so it made sense that his head would hurt naturally- or, that's what he thought until he saw Shun's sister getting kidnapped. Good grief. No way to sit still after seeing that.

'Hey' saiki called out to her, placing a helmet on her head. 'You can ride on the back of mine. It's going to be dark soon and then it'll get even colder.' He said, walking back to his motorcycle.

"Alright, fine" she got onto the seat behind him. Shun smiled at Saiki before starting his bike down the road, and the psychic then followed.

The wind came strong and angry. Sharp and bitter. It threatened to kick her off of the bike and caused her to have to wrap her arms tighter around the boy infront of her. He didn't care much for the wind. Nothing special, no reason for his heart to race because with his powers, his instincts don't sense danger. It wasn't much painfully cold, either. With his pyrotechnics it wasn't a problem at all.

Maybe I should tell him to stop... this is too cold Sora thought to herself

Saiki sighed as he used his fire power very carefully to bring heat to her body as well. He can't have Shun coming to school crying about his sister everyday. Especially when it's so easy to avoid.

This feeling...

Oh no.

it's gotten so warm... next to Saiki.. no, it must be that I... I have a crush..?

Good grief... this is uncomfortable the psychic thought

.....

And in days to come, the Jet Black Wing's sister would come to bother him about his friends. After that, her crush began to develop in a similar way to Chiyo. She would watch him with eyes that saw a round eyed prince. She would admire how smart and well mannered he is, and she would act especially polite when he made his presence infront of her.

Saiki Kusuo, was also thinking about her often. However; not in the way you might be thinking. He was forming strategies on how to avoid her. All of which were miserably failing. With her mother and his mother on her side, she couldn't fail. Discovering his family power structure, she would have Shun call Kurumi (his mother) and invite him over.

And with her own mother bothering Shun to hang out with his two "genius" friends everytime his grades would slip. Of course, Nendou rarely came because he was "always busy" (in reality, Shun didn't want Nendou and his mother interacting anymore in fear of her finding out that he's an idiot)

So, of course, this all worked out best for Sora.

.....

The group of four walked home like usual. Kuboyasu, Nendou, Saiki and Kaidou. They were discussing which character in Shounen Jump is the weakest while Saiki was praying for Nendou to ask them to ramen so that he didn't have to go to Kaidou's house again. Sora had been coming up with gifts for her crush so that he would take notice and start a conversation with her. Of course, she had almost no idea what would peak the boy's interest.

"Hey, Saiki. I thought maybe it would be a good time to ask you" Kuboyasu, the former delinquent spoke up. "Heard there's somethin' weird behind that 100 yen store. Wanna come check it out?" He offered.

Saiki almost shook his head and provided an excuse on instinct before remembering his main goal (to bLow up and act I like dont know nobody aghaghaghaa.) So he simply nodded.

"I wish I could come see!" Kaidou beamed before looking back down to the ground dramatically "yes... I wish I still had time to question those weird things around me... to leisure in activities like such. Though, I have a sacred duty at hand..." he clenched his bandaged fist

"Gotta take a shit? Me too" Nendou chimed in.

"NO, IDIOT! I have cram sch-- I um.. I m..mean I have to meet with the phantom force! Th-that I'm helping train to work as soldiers against dark reunion!!" He stumbled all over his sentence before finally turning his body to strut off over to the direction of his house.

"Shun. I need you to help me with.. homework" his sister quickly requested and dragged him into her room, pushing him on the floor infront of the small table that sat in the middle of the room, just like his.

"What can you tell me about your friends? Start with Saiki kun" she reached for a notepad and a pen.

"Shouldn't you be referring to him as senpai or something because he's a second year?" He mentioned before being cut with her glare. "R..Right! Okay, sorry... he likes sweets an-"

"Sweets and what!? Why'd you stop??" Sora pressed

"Why do you need to know about my friends? Is this a homework assignment..?" He questioned her

"Yeah sure." She rushed "he likes sweets and what?"

"Ohh! I think I remember having this assignment in middle school, too! You're supposed to write about your closest friends and their interests right~?" He thought back to his middle school year and looked at her with warm eyes. Empathy began filling his soft face, adjusting his features on her. "Sora, I couldn't make any friends in middle school either, so...!" He began "I've noticed you've been really nice to Saiki.. so if you want to be friends with my friends-!"

"I can make friends. I'm not some lonely loser like you who needs a hero complex to interact with people his age." She interrupted, sending an imaginary arrow through the highschooler's chest.

"Guh-- well if you don't want my help then in leaving!!" He stood up and caught notice of a small hand stopping him

"Wait! I'm sorry.." She got onto her feet and bowed "I'm just... embarrassed about not having friends." She lied, not wanting her brother to know she had the hots for his bestfriend.

Her phone chimed, once, and then again. It was three of her friends trying to reach her to hang out at the movies. Then she got a phone call, interrupted by another phone call.

"You should answer those" shun said

She hesitantly picked up the phone and answered the call.

"Put it on speaker" her brother ordered.

"...okay.."

<"heyyyy! Sora where have you been? Me and everyone else wanted to go to the movies with you. You're always knee-deep in studying so we wanted to help you relax a bit for once. You've been out of school for like, three days just shadowing and checking out Pk academy. It's still a while before we get into high school, grandma~! Anyway, the 7 of us wanted to show we love you by taking you to see that movie you mentioned wanting to see. So get ready, we want to be there by 7:30"> the girl on the phone ranted on before Sora could speak up against it, and hung up.

".....Shun-"

"SEVEN!?" he exclaimed as Sora rushed into another apology. This must be the first time he's ever made HER scared of HIM.

"Don't apologize Sora!! That's amazing, I'm so happy you have great friends... ahyuuu...." he teared up

"Oh... thanks, I guess"

"But one thing" he said and stopped her from leaving the room

"Huh?"

"Why did you need to know about my friends for that project?" He tilted his head

She looked over to the door knob as if she was begging it for help as her face was overpowered by a dark red hue. "W....we-well-- Sh...shut up! Get out! I need to get dressed!!" She pushed him out.

"Ow!! Ouch~! I'll leave!!" He practically screeched as he was rushed out. "But I'll stand outside of the door until you admit!"

A few minutes later, she yanked open the door and sprinted down the hallway. She knew her small brother wouldn't be able to catch her with how weak and slow he is.

But her little brother could.

She tripped and landed on her face after having her legs caught and wrapped in bandages by Toki Kaidou.

"Now tell me why!" Shun stood proudly over her despite not having done anything.

Toki went back to his room as Sora nearly freed her feat from the poorly tied bandages, that is before Shun, someone who actually knew how to tie a knot, fixed them.

"Fine!! Just let me go!" She yelled at him "I... is there any reason for it? I think he's cool. You can always have new friends. You're just stupid and think that 7 is the max" her face was once again drenched in a dark pink color.

"Oh my god." He said

"What!?"

"You like him!!!" His eyes widened as he stood up frantically. "You have a crush on Saiki!!"

"Yeah, so what about it!?" Sora snapped at him

Shun gasped "Sora!! You're only in middle school-"

"Yet I'm more put together than you are" she said defensively

"But that's still kind of wrong.. we're about to be third years and you're not even in highschool yet..."

"I will be by the time you're third years though!!" She shouted, then slumped down.

"Yes- bu-" he began, getting cut off

"I know. I just... I really like him and I've never liked a guy before. I know it's stupid." She sighed, defeated

"No no, Sora I'm sorry... You can't control who you like, right? I was being mean-" he began

"It's fine, you're right about it being weird. Just untie me so I can go to my room"

"What about the movies with your friends?"

"...whatever"

....

'Yare yare,' Saiki sighed, taking another bite from one of the homemade cookies Sora had anonymously sent him before placing it down and uncrossing his eyes. (he had checked with his powers and knows the cookies were from her)

'I guess it can't be helped' he sighed once more before sending out a telepathic signal

"Sora!" She sang as she knocked on the large door infront of her.

"Hello?" Shun answered and opened the door wider for the girl to come in "you're one od her friends!" He chirped "She said she isn't feeling well enough for the movies; I think you should try cheering her up."

"Oh, okay... um, where would her room be?" Upon entering the house, the girl suddenly grew nervous. For some reason.

"Here, I'll show you" Shun lead her to Sora's door and sprinted away to hide before the girl could knock on it.

"What do you want." Sora snapped after hearing the door knock

"Eek! Sorry, I just.. uhm...wa it's Yui! your b..brother let me in" she stuttered unlike how she spoke on the phone

The door opened and inside was a girl with messy hair and red eyes. An embrace came soon after.

I thought you might've needed a hug... Yui intended to say, but instead voiced out:

"You... h.,,hug. Yeah. Needed yes...mn"

Sora laughed, at first came a weak chuckle, then as the hug parted it became a strong belly laugh (upon seeing Yui's flustered face)

.....

"Shun!" Sora called, making the timid boy jump and start shaking from fear

"Y-yes?" He was sweating bullets

"I'm going to the movies with my girlfriend." She took Yui's clammy hand and headed towards the door.

Shun blinked. "Wh--"

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seanfalco · 5 years ago

Note

Hey! Can I please request prompt 16 from the “I found you” list with Punk!Jaskier x reader where the reader is feeling insecure about her stretch marks, after giving birth to Sam, in which Jaskier comforts her.

Fandom: The Witcher Pairing: Punk!Jaskier x Reader Word Count: 692 Rating: G Tag List: @ficsandcatsandficsandcats @nevadawolfe @magic-multicolored-miracle

—

Try as you might, the tears wouldn’t stop and you watched helplessly in the mirror as your makeup began to smudge and run.

Waterproof, my ass.

Frustration only made you cry harder and you quickly tried to stifle your sobs as a knock came at the door.

“[Y/N], are you in there?”

Hoping whoever it was would just leave, you sighed as you recognized Jaskier’s muffled voice through the door and you reluctantly unlocked it, stepping back and letting him in. He quickly shut the door behind him and twisted the lock once more as you looked over you, worry painting his features. Trying to avoid his gaze you turned away from him to dab at the dampness coating your cheeks.

“[Y/N], what’s wrong?” he asked, leaning forward in an attempt to get a better look at your face. “Aev said you were really upset.”

Very astute of you, you wanted to snap, but you held your tongue, knowing it wasn’t really your husband’s fault you were feeling this way.

“Hey,” he tried again, gently laying his hand on your shoulder and you let him turn you around. Hooking a finger under your chin, Jaskier lifted your face, carefully cupping your cheeks in his hands and running his thumbs under your eyes to wipe away your tears. “What’s wrong, love? Talk to me.”

“I don’t belong here,” you murmured, sniffling softly.

“What do you mean?” he asked incredulously. “Of course you do.”

“No, I don’t,” you insisted, your voice strengthening. “We’re at the Grammy’s for chrissake! And I-I’m a nobody!”

“You’re my wife and my date --” Jaskier began, but you cut him off, picking up speed as your words kind of exploded out in a rush.

“Yeah, but not really. Everyone is so gorgeous -- I mean, look at Yen, though she always looks ethereal, but even Aev is stunning tonight and I-I’m so ugly!” Fresh tears ran down your cheeks and your shoulders shook with your sobs.

Jaskier’s eyes widened and he looked about ready to panic. “Oh no, no! Honey, you are so beautiful, what are you talking about?” he explained, grasping your arms and pulling you close, wrapping his own arms around you.

“But I have stretch marks!” you cried against his chest, your sobs muffled.

Jaskier rubbed your back soothingly and your crying quieted somewhat.

“You can tell I haven’t lost the weight I gained while I was pregnant with Sam.”

“[Y/N],” Jaskier murmured, pulling back slightly to press his forehead to yours, his striking blue eyes finding yours. “You are the most beautiful woman in the world. Shh, I don’t make the rules,” he added quickly when it looked like you were gearing up to argue.

“Even in the midst of your pregnancy you were the most beautiful woman in the world. No matter what you weigh, no matter how many stretch marks you may have -- none of that changes how beautiful you are,” he insisted, pressing a kiss where his forehead had been moments before and then one to each cheek, until he was peppering kisses anywhere he could reach despite your soft laughter.

“Do you believe me yet?” he asked, again looking you in the eyes.

“Maybe… a little,” you admitted, bringing a smile to your husband’s lips.

“Good, because I will reassure you of that however many times it takes til you believe it. You are the most exquisite woman and wife and mother, and I am the luckiest man on this Earth because I have you. And that will not change, even if I don’t win a Grammy tonight, by the way,” he added, getting you to crack a smile. “Hold your head high, my darling. I love you.”

“I love you too Jaskier,” you replied, grabbing the sides of his face before kissing him, a little more forcefully than you had planned, but when he pulled back, looking flushed and a little disheveled, you were glad you did.

“Okay okay, you’ve convinced me, but before I go back out there I have to fix my makeup first,” you exclaimed, but Jaskier was already pulling you back in for another kiss.

#jaskier x reader #Punk!Jaskier x Reader #punk!jaskier #julian alfred pankratz #reader insert #punk!au #reader request #anonymous #my writing

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imaginefan · 5 years ago

Note

can you write preferences for when they vent about the reader being their girlfriend, like "that's my girl" moment with loki, thor, stiles stilinski, gale, geralt, iron man, yennefer, dean and winchester

Loki Laufeyson

Loki had heard the screams before he could even see what was happening, you were watching a movie with the others but the screams made him think that something else had happened, he walked into the room and saw everyone had jumped to separate sides of the room and you were in the middle clutching your stomach Loki walked over you pulling you so that you were looking at him. “What happened?” He asked. Your body started shaking as you laughed.

“You remembered… That you taught me that spell… The one for small illusions?” You asked through your laughs.

“That was an illusion?” Tony asked and you curled in on yourself as your muscles started laughing again.

“You're all scared of spiders.” You gasped out.

“I’m scared of spiders that appear out of nowhere.” He answered and you rolled your eyes. Loki smiled as he looked at the frightened faces of the heroes around you.

“That’s my girl.” Loki said as he picked you up “now to teach you something bigger.”

Thor Odinson

Thor had left his hammer in the middle of the floor again and you were getting sick of having to keep yelling at him, you looked at it for a second before gripping it “Thor will you move this- Ahh!” Your sentence was cut off by your own surprise as you found yourself falling backwards.

“(Y/N) my love what happened?” Thor asked as he appeared in the doorway.

“I tripped.” You answered.

“Tripped?” He asked.

“Yes, and your stupid hammer didn’t save me.” You muttered as you lifted it towards him, not really thinking about what you were doing.

“That’s my girl.” He as he walked over to you.

“What are you talking about?” You frowned as he walked to the door calling for the others. “Oh… Oh!” You realised what exactly you were doing and then you looked at your own hand in shock “How is this possible.”

“You are worthy.” He smiled as he walked over to you.

Stiles Stilinski

You had expected for Stiles to be back by now, you knew that there was a certain type of nuance to breaking into an office but it was almost the end of the game, you decided that you were going to go look for him.

The first thing that you heard was the shouting from the swimming pool, you ran to the door and saw Stiles and Derek in the pool “What the hell is going on?” You asked.

“(Y/N) watch out!” Stiles yelled you noticed the moving shadow to your left and dodge as it came at you.

“Oh, I get it.” You nodded as you dodged out of the way again. “Did you at least find out what it is?”

“Not yet!” Stiles yelled back.

“So what am I supposed to do with it!?” You asked.

“It doesn’t like the water,” Stiles answered.

“Is that so?” You asked as you took out your phone and put in your password before having to dodge the creature again, you attempted to call Scott as you tried to get closer to the pool. You were standing with your back to the pool “Come on!” You yelled before jumping out the way at the last minute the lizard gave a harsh shout before jumping out the water and leaving, Scott appeared two seconds later to help you pull Derek and Stiles out of the pool.

“Where’d it go?” Scott asked.

“You should have seen (Y/N) she kicked the thing into the pool and he ran,” Stiles said and you rolled your eyes.

“Let’s just get out of here.” You muttered before heading to the door.

Gale Hawthorne

You had been out hunting before but you weren’t all too good at it, Gale said that he was going to help you, so you met him outside of the gates where he taught you how to place your feet so that you could move quietly, you had a few practice shots before you headed out. “This is going to end so badly.” You muttered to yourself.

“Stop being so hard on yourself.” Gale said softly before pressing a kiss to your head and leading you through the forest, you walked behind him concentrating on not making any noise, Gale tapped the top of your head as he turned back to you, he pointed up into the bushes where there was a deer grazing. You stepped in front of him and positioned yourself as he told you.

“Breath in and pull back to your chest.” He said softly. “Elbow up.” You loosed the arrow that hit the deer in the shoulder, you released a second arrow that flew through the air that hit the chest seconds after killing the deer. “That’s my girl.”

“Beginners luck.” You played it down.

“We’ll see.” He smiled as he pulled you towards the deer that you had just killed.

Geralt Of Rivia

Geralt had just finished a job, he had left you with Roach and Jaskier, you were supposed to make sure that the men that had hired him didn’t try to leave without paying him, or even tried to steal from him. Now the first thing that he heard were the screams of the men that had hired him and you talking in a dangerously low tone. When he broke through the trees to find you had the man on the floor you knee pressed to his back and his arm pulled up behind him “They move I’ll break it.” You threatened as you gestured to his friends who seemed to have been moving towards Jaskier and Roach.

“What are you doing?” Geralt asked a hint of amusement in his tone.

“Oh Geralt your back.” You smiled “they did just what you thought that they would, they tried to skip out on the deal.”

“Mmm.” Geralt grunted.

“Give him the money.” The man under your knee ordered and one of the others threw him the money before you let him go and they all run. You stood up dusting yourself off as Geralt stepped up behind you wrapping an arm around your waist.

“That’s my girl.” He said softly as Jaskier groaned from across the clearing.

Tony Stark

Tony made a mistake that much was clear but there was no point in everyone yelling at him, you were all just wasting time, so you stepped up “Are you all done!?” You asked.

“He’s-”

“Made a mistake, haven’t we been cleaning up everyone else’s these past few months?” You asked.

“That’s-”

“Not the point. No, but we don’t have time to yell about everything.” You explained and Steve looked at you. “Yes mistakes have been made, Tony knows that, we all know that, there’s no point in standing around arguing about it while the bad guy gets a head start.”

“Your right,” Steve said.

“Everyone take a minute and then we’ll sort this out.” You said, everyone left the room and you turned to Tony. “We have a lot to talk about.”

“Look I-”

“You're going to fix it.” You ordered.

“You're just finishing everyone’s sentences today.” He teased.

“Mhmm.” You hummed. “I stop people from yelling at you, that's why you love me.”

“That's why you're my girl.” Tony smiled pulling you into a hug.

Yennefer

You and Yen were travelling together, you’d decided that you needed to stop for the night because sleeping on the road just was not going to cut it for another night. You walked into the Tavern and you had expected some stares but you hadn’t expected for someone to actually approach you both. “You ladies need a place to stay?” The man asked, he literally could not stand upright and his smelled terrible.

“Leave us be,” Yen said dismissing him but he stepped closer managing to fit himself between your’s and Yen’s seats.

“Come on I’m sure that I can-” He was cut off by you grabbing his hand and twisting it behind his back.

“I don’t think you can keep up.” You teased as your knife pressed against his neck.

“You can do better than that.” Yen smirked and you moved the knife down to his stomach. “Warmer.” She reached forward-moving it down further. “That’s my girl.”

“No, wait.” He pleaded.

“Next time it’ll be more than a threat.” You informed him before letting go and sheathing the knife.

“We don’t need your help Geralt, she’s got it covered,” Yen called out and you looked behind you to see Geralt standing arms folded as he watched the scene play out. You just smiled and waved before pulling Yen to your room.

Dean Winchester

Dean had met you after Sam had left and you guys hand been hunting together ever since, you went back with him to find Sam when their Dad went missing and you stuck by him no matter what happened but there was one thing that you did that he considered one of your most important skills, whenever you had access to a kitchen you would cook a pie and today was no different.

The bunker was quiet, the boys were sleeping, you were up early for no particular reason so you decided to make a pie, you knew that Dean would want one, it was about half way through the cooking process that the smell seemed to pull Dean out of bed and you giggled went he leaned down and pressed a kiss to the side of your face when he appeared in the kitchen. “What are you doing up so early?” He asked.

“It’s not early. Sam just went for his workout.” You answered and he looked at the door and then the oven.

“But you were up before that.” He said and you nodded.

“I don’t know.” You shrugged “I was up so I thought that I would bake a pie.”

“Pie!?” He asked.

“It’s not done yet.” You laughed pushing him away from the oven.

30 to 40 minutes later you were sitting at the table and Dean had a whole pie in front of him as Sam walked through the door “Where’d you get that?” Sam asked.

“(Y/N) made it.” Dean answered a smile stretching across his face “my girl knows what I need.” Sam just rolled his eyes and left the room to take a shower while you rested your head against the table tired and embarrassed.

Sam Winchester

Sam hadn’t ever really had a problem with researching for a case but for some reason he just could focus he was sitting at the table with a blank look on his face as he re read the same passage for the 4th time, you glanced over at him and frowned before picking up the laptop doing a quick search on the town.

“Hey what about this?” You mumbled softly as you turned the laptop to show an article about the house that you were looking into. “A girl died in the house, they marked it as a suicide but maybe we can find out why she did it.”

“You are perfect.” He smiled as he leaned forward and pressed a kiss on your cheek.

“All I did was search the town.” You shrugged and he smiled.

“You're perfect.” He said again before turning and walking out the room “Dean!” He called. “My wonderful, perfect, ama-”

“Sammy we get it, what have you got!?” You heard Dean shout cutting off his younger brother and causing you to groan, you’ll hear about that later.

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ficsandcatsandficsandcats · 5 years ago

Text

Road Trip : Punk!AU

Fandom: The Witcher Pairing: Punk!Geralt x Punk!Yennefer Word Count: 2,717 Rating: M Taglist: @heroics-and-heartbreak @whatevermonkey @mynamesoundslikesherlock @magic-multicolored-miracle a/n: If you missed Part II you can find the link below as written by @heroics-and-heartbreak my partner on this adventure and co-founder of our little Punk!AU. Read on for angst!

Part III – It’s all over, baby, but I’m still yours

{Part I} {Part II}

“Give me the phone.”

Aevryn’s eyes widened and she clutched the phone tighter. Everyone had left the van quickly except for her and Yennefer who had watched as Aevryn’s mouth curled into a little smile as she looked at the phone. She knew exactly what was going on and it was time to confront her while the rest of the group was gone. Especially Jaskier.

“Yen it’s not what it looks like,” Aevryn began. Yennefer propped a hand on her hips and fixed her with her patented “don’t bullshit me” stare.

“And what do you think it looks like, Aev?” she asked. The phone buzzed in Aevryn’s hand and Yennefer looked down at it pointedly.

“Listen… I know this is going to sound stupid. But I think, maybe this time… I think he’s trying, Yen, and don’t give me that look!” Aevryn protested as Yennefer shook her head, a familiar look of disappointment in her eyes that stung, “We had a long talk and he hasn’t been shitty. He’s been worried but that’s something, right?”

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” Yennefer asked. Aevryn winced, Yennefer’s words striking her as painfully as her fists may have.

“I don’t owe you anything here, Yen,” Aevryn said, her voice growing distant and icy and defensive, “I’m a grown adult. So is he. People can change. For fuck’s sake, I thought you of all people-”

“What the hell does that mean?” Yennefer asked. Aevryn took a deep breath, willing herself not to say anything she’d regret later. She knew Yennefer was protective for good reason and with good intentions. But she was already having this fight with herself, she didn’t need to have it with anyone else. Not yet. There would be time for fighting later.

“Are you going to tell Jask?” Aevryn asked.

“No,” Yennefer answered quickly.

The phone buzzed again.

“Win’s going to be looking for me,” Aevryn said, moving to push past Yennefer. She held her back by the shoulder and the pair locked eyes.

“How many times are you going to let him hurt you?” she asked. If she’d said it with disdain Aevryn could have been angry. But she’d said it sadly, the weary voice of someone who has had to help pick up their friend time and time again and is watching them hurl themselves right back into the fray.

“You don’t have to take care of me if it goes wrong. I know the risks,” Aevryn said, jostling past her and heading towards the low rolling fields as quickly as she could, tears stinging her eyes.

“But I will,” Yennefer called after her. She could tell by the stiffening of Aevryn’s shoulders that she’d heard her, but she continued walking as though she hadn’t and Yennefer let her go.

“Fuck,” Yennefer whispered to herself, kicking the tire with her boot.

“Hey, leave Roach out of this.”

Yennefer wheeled around to find Geralt walking over to the other side of the van. His hands were stuffed into the pockets of his leather jacket and he gave her a searching stare. She’d once compared him to malware, always scanning for problems.

“How long were you standing there?” Yennefer asked, an edge to her voice.

“Not long,” he admitted, “I was looking to see if I could find someplace quiet to meditate but they’re making too much damn noise.”

The whoops and laughter of the rest of your group were carried on the slowly cooling evening air though they couldn’t be seen anymore. They’d gone deep into the fields, leaving Yennefer and Geralt to catch up when they chose. Or, as was the silent understanding, if they chose.

“Any chance you’ll tell me what’s got you all twisted up?” Geralt asked, leaning against the van and tossing her a glance that tried just a bit too hard to be casual. She knew he could see everything; the frustration, the fear, the sadness. The way her hands trembled slightly as it did after a confrontation with someone she loved, caused by the fear that it would lead at any moment to losing them forever. Geralt knew these things but he was too good to speak on it without her permission. He was too good period.

“No,” she answered bluntly, and he gave a wry, knowing smile, nodding and then tilting his head back to rest against the rusted metal. A low roll of thunder sounded overhead, the skies going grey without their notice and Yennefer thought back to another night like this one. A night that had started beautifully and ended in a storm from which neither ever fully returned.

“You still do tarot?” Geralt asked, though he knew the answer.

“Why?” Yennefer asked, cautious but intrigued despite herself. He shrugged and his eyes, such a light brown they nearly glowed golden, peered down at her.

“Thought you might give me a reading,” he said. Yennefer cocked an eyebrow in disbelief at him.

“You always said it was horseshit,” she said, crossing her arms in front of her.

“I’ve been wrong about things before,” he answered with a shrug, “So, you gonna do it or not?”

Yennefer rolled her eyes and pushed off of the van, moving towards the passenger side where she’d left her bag, Geralt’s eyes following her the whole way.

“Well since you asked so nicely,” she said sarcastically. He climbed into the back of the van and she followed suit, a deck of cards in hand that she quickly began to shuffle once they’d sat down.

“What kind of spread are you looking for?” she asked. Geralt gave her a wolfish smile and she fixed him with an unimpressed look though she had to bite back a laugh.

“What questions do you have for me?” she tried again and Geralt sat back against the window, his large frame crouching to fit into the small space.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, “Can’t you just pull some cards and tell me my future or whatever?”

“If you’re just going to be a dick I’m not doing this,” Yennefer said, moving to put the cards back in their box. A large, scarred hand reached out and rested on top of hers, stalling her movement. She looked up to meet his eyes which were apologetic.

“Ok,” he said, relenting, “I want to know…”

He paused and Yennefer watched breathlessly, chest tightening as she thought about the answers she knew he was still looking for, ones she couldn’t give him no matter how badly she wanted to.

“I want to know how the road trip’s going to go,” he said, and he saw the almost imperceptible shift of Yennefer’s shoulders as she exhaled with relief.

“Fair enough,” she said, continuing her shuffling. The deck was one she’d made herself, from the cardstock she’d crafted from wood pulp to the ink she’d distilled from lavender oil and other harvested ingredients. She’d designed the tarot images herself, making them unique to her. While Geralt had his reservations about magic, he unreservedly admired her ingenuity and craftmanship. He’d made the box for her cards, hewn from oak with a message burned on the inside of the box that both of them were careful not to pay attention to or mention though both knew it was there.

She spread the cards out gently and carefully facedown on the crinkly plastic covered seat.

“Pick a card, any card,” she said with a twinkle in her eye, serious in her craft but playful in her methods. Geralt took his time, staring down at them as though he were trying to will the cards to work in his favor. He was pretty sure that wasn’t how this worked but damn if he wouldn’t try. He finally pointed to one and Yennefer pulled it out, flipping it face up between the two of them.

Disembodied hands reaching out from the bottom of the card posed in supplication to a breaking dawn depicted in shimmering, golden ink. In the middle, as it was in all of her major arcana cards, a roman numeral was drawn; XX.

Geralt looked to Yennefer’s face immediately, trying to read her reaction to figure out if it was good or bad. She looked at the card for a few minutes in silence.

“Well?” Geralt asked finally, unable to wait any longer as the tension built.

“Judgement,” she said. His brows furrowed in concern and she looked up to meet his eyes.

“It’s not bad,” she explained.

“Judgment has rarely been favorable for me,” he said. “Whose judgment?”

“Good question,” she said, looking back down to the card, “It’s usually associated with resurrection and awakening. Second chances or new beginnings. Something coming to an end to make way for something else.”

“I don’t like the sound of that,” Geralt said, glaring at the card.

“Well you don’t believe in it, so it doesn’t matter much,” Yennefer said with a little shrug, gathering her cards and opening the box to put them back. Her eyes slipped to the words on the inside; all my love. It had been so sweet once upon a time. Now it weighed on her heart.

“I may not have always understood or believed in the methods, but I will always believe in you,” Geralt insisted.

Yennefer didn’t know if it was the urgent need in his voice the betrayed how badly he wanted her to know he believed in her – still, present tense, not past – or the closeness of their bodies in the small space. It could have been the scent of leather and aftershave that muddled her senses or the way his hand brushing against hers triggered memories throughout her body of the way it felt to be held and stroked and touched by him. It could have been the threatening knell of the Judgment card calling for an end and the panic that flooded her at the thought that the end could be this, could be them forever, finally. Destiny making a call she hadn’t been strong enough to commit to fully. Whatever the reason, be it all or none of them, she found herself pressing into his arms, her mouth seeking his and finding him eagerly receptive. His large hands seized her waist and pulled her onto his lap so she straddled him, feeling the hardening length already straining against his jeans. Her hands cupped his face, the familiar sensation of scruff and jaw and soft silver hair twining around her fingers comforting her like a song she’d turn to in times of sorrow. He ran a hand through her long, dark hair, as silky and soft as it had always been, would always be.

“This is a bad idea,” Yennefer murmured as Geralt’s lips moved down the slender column of her neck, tongue laving at the crook of her neck, undoing her in quick succession, aware of all the spots she loved best and therefore he loved too.

“You’re right,” he agreed, a hand cupping one of her breasts through the thin fabric of the cotton crop top she’d worn. “Do you want me to s-”

She cut off the question with a kiss. If she had to answer it, she had to think. And she was tired of thinking. Tired of questioning and guarding and- just tired.

“Shut up. Kiss me. Hold me tight,” she ordered. He growled in response and their bodies fell into an old dance. Hands worked at buttons and clothes were pushed aside and soon they were together again, joining as they had a thousand times before, each time peppered with an extra sense of urgency as they feared it would be the last time.

“I’ve missed you,” she sighed, the words slipping out on the heels of a moan as Geralt rocked into her.

“Gods I’ve missed you too,” he breathed, pressing his forehead against hers and gripping her tighter.

“I’ve wanted this. I’ve wanted you,” the words fell from her lips like a confession and she found herself unable to stop them. It had always been hard to hide from Geralt for too long. He always saw her, and she always came back, eager to be found and seen and… other things she feared.

“Yennefer,” he pressed her name against her lips and she tasted the unspoken emotion he felt for her in it. The unspeakable thing that kept them tethered against all odds.

She stopped his mouth with her own, but she could feel him say her name still, every kiss a declaration her body answered in turn. It didn’t take long before she felt the tension building rapidly to a place there’d be no coming back from and Geralt could feel it too, pulling her face back to look her in the eyes, watching her soft flesh warm and redden and her chest rise and fall and her mouth wrap around the final, breathy gasps of her release. The sight alone would have been enough but the way she clenched around him brought him with her and as he came he pressed his head against her chest, feeling her heartbeat flutter rapidly. Yennefer pressed her lips onto his head, her arm wrapping around him and holding in there against her chest for a beat, and then two, and then she began to worry that she would never able to let him go.

“I love you.”

He heard her heart skip a beat and then it was gone, her body pushing away from his too fast for him to stop, already bitterly angry with himself for letting the words out. And then angry that he had to try.

“Yennefer,” he called, quickly tucking himself back in and going after her as she jumped out of the van, pulling a top on quickly and pausing only to button her clothes as she got out.

“Yennefer I love you,” he repeated, knowing there was no way to walk it back so he might as well have it out, “I love you and I know you love me.”

She looked up at him, eyes wild like a wounded animal who’s been cornered and he knew she was dangerous and he loved her for it.

“Geralt don’t,” she said warningly, though she knew it was too late. The thunder, forgotten in their time in the van, rolled louder overhead, echoing the emotions that warred in her.

“I’m not going to ask you to marry me. Not again. But why does that have to be the end of it? Why do we have to pretend that there’s nothing here when there clearly is. What did I do?” his voice cracked at the last word and nearly knocked the breath out of her.

“You didn’t do anything,” she said.

“Then why?” he asked, “Why wasn’t it enough? Why wasn’t I enough?”

“It’s not all about you, Geralt,” she snapped, retreating into anger as the other emotions became too large and terrifying to face any longer. He could see her retreating, see the icy wall she held in place slowly build back up and he grasped her arms, pulling her in as though the added warmth of his body could help melt it away. It only rose quicker, harder, colder.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said, “I’m still here.”

“This was a bad idea,” she repeated, more to himself than him. She wrenched herself out of his grasp and turned, walking into the field with no clear idea of where she was going or what she would do. In any other instance she would have sought out Aevryn but the very thought of her friend twisted her heart further. She couldn’t have Geralt, she couldn’t protect Aevryn. She didn’t really have any right to hate Valdo the way she did when she of all people understood him best. Because what was she doing with Geralt if not practically doing what Valdo did with Aevryn? She’d never been disloyal to Geralt but she was just as inaccessible and just as selfishly pulled between wanting the love and attention she received and pushing everyone away out of fear of being hurt. She knew Valdo couldn’t be trusted because she couldn’t be trusted. Not with her own heart and certainly not with Geralt’s.

Tonight, she’d chosen poorly. Tomorrow, she’d choose better.

Or she’d leave.

#Road Trip:Punk!AU #Vicious Mockery AU #Punk!Geralt #Punk!Yennefer #PunkGeralt! x Punk!Yennefer #Punk!Aevryn #Vicious Mockery

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