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maybe-moonchild · 3 months ago

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CHAPTER 1

summary: In which a spilt drink leads to a very awkward reunion and a drunken piece of pizza. WC: 6.3k ﾟ ⋆ ﾟ ☂︎ ⋆ ﾟ

The surface of the bar is tacky under your forearms from spilled beer and mixed drinks. You lean up against the surface as others bump into your back, half listening to Aaron's non-stop rambling about the job his uncle set him up at. His company was fine- one of Flash's basketball buddies from high school remembered for being obnoxious in your junior english class. You're barely paying attention and more preoccupied with trying to get the bartender's attention. At least then you would be able to escape the sweaty bodies pressed against your back.

Lazy Dog Saloon, a divey place nestled in Hell's Kitchen, had become Midtown high. Most of the class of 2014 had graduated from their prospective 4 year undergrad programs last week. Some returned to New York for a mini vacation before they began the next chapter in their lives while some had never left at all.

You were part of the second group.

NYU seemed like a safe choice at the time your college applications were due. The program you wanted was there and you knew that it was close enough to Queens that you felt like you'd gotten away, but not far enough that you felt like you were on the other side of the country.

Aaron continues to drone on, the sound of his voice fading with the sound of the eighties song playing over the speakers. Your shoulders sag in relief when the bartender sits down your vodka soda in front of you, sticking a dried out lime on the rim. He takes the $8 in cash you hold out to him and mumble out a thanks but he is already moving to the next person. Not that you care. You had your prize in hand and could finally return to your friends drunkenly lounging in their booth.

That was until Aarons animated hand gestures sent your drink out of your hand down the front of the shirt of the guy beside you.

"Fuck! I am so sorry," you rush out, half turning to reach over Aaron and grab a few flimsy paper napkins. You also shoot Aaron the dirtiest look you can muster at which he grimaces. "I feel horrible- god. I am so-"

Had there not been a steady stream of booze fluttering through your veins, you could play it a lot cooler than you do. Thankfully, Peter Parker isn’t able to play it much cooler either. The second your eyes met his big brown ones, they manage to somehow get bigger, his eyebrows rising towards his hairline before his lips thinned in distaste.

“... sorry…” The word comes out as a breath while his presence seems to be the only thing that you can be aware of. It’s like the sight of him is screaming inside your head.

Peter’s heart throws itself for a loop before dropping down into his stomach. He knows that voice all too well and he hates how much he still yearns to hear it again.

We both seemed to collect ourselves at the same time; he clears his throat while you look down at the spot on his shirt where the gray fabric is dark. With a shake of his head, he waives away your apology with his hand. “Don't- it’s fine, it’s fine.” He tries to mutter the words with a smile that barely classifies as anything more than a wince. “I don’t even like this shirt anyway.”

You can’t seem to get yourself to move. Not even when he gently slips the napkins out of your clenched fists so he can try and clean himself up. That, in turn, just makes you feel worse, but then again, maybe he just doesn’t want you to touch him.

Not after our six years of friendship fizzled out like a burning candle that finally reached the end of its wick.

“Nice one,” Aaron chuckles near your ear, his elbow nudging your arm teasingly. This was not the time for jokes. Not when it felt like I was staring at a ghost. The ghost of someone very much alive. Giving the red head a shove and a scowl, you hiss at him under your breath to shut up before turning back to Peter.

“I am so sorry. Seriously. This was all my fault. I… can I help?” You're clearly apologetic. It’s clear from the concern in your voice and the embarrassed look on your face.

Peter’s eyes find the ceiling so quickly that you can’t tell if the pink on his face is real or just a hallucination from the tequila shot Flash had forced on you earlier. You could’ve sworn you’d forgotten what he sounded like over the past four years. After hearing it again, your memories come flooding back all at once. Except this isn’t a memory. This is real. Peter Parker is standing right there as he wipes at his shirt. Gone is the gangly kid with perpetual untamable hair and skinned elbows from nose diving off his skateboard and in his place is someone he gracefully grew into.

“Seriously. It’s fine. It was an accident.” His hand waves awkwardly again as he drops the napkins into the trash. The smile he gives you is strained and brief but he tries anyway so he can drop the conversation. “No, it’s really alright. I think those did the trick. This shirt has gone through worse.”

You are sure you look as pathetic as you feel. Eyes wide and brow furrowed enough that the crease between them could’ve been a damn canyon. Once upon a time, you knew him better than you knew yourself. Once upon a time, the two of you could have stayed quiet for hours and still known exactly what the other was thinking.

Now? At least you knew that him saying it was fine was a load of garbage.

“Are you sure? I can ask the bartender for a towel? Or-”

He knows that look. It was the same damn look you always used to give him when you felt really bad about something. It would settle on your face when you were going to do any stupid thing you could to try and fix it.

“I’m sure,” he interjects in the hopes that you believe him- or at least pretend to. That you will just let it go, return back to Katie and Flash so you can tell them you dumped your drink on him. The three of you could laugh it up like you did in high school.

“It’s fine. I promise. Just…” he takes a deep breath and glances down at his wet shirt before finally glancing up at your face. He tries to think of something to say. At that moment, the bartender decides to drop the beer he had ordered earlier onto the counter. Peter mutters a thanks, grabbing it in one hand while digging for cash that's shoved in his front pocket to exchange it.

Before you can get another word out, he sighs, “Really. It’s fine. I can deal with it.” Peter's words are short and almost sharp. It was nothing different than how things had been between the two of you for the past eight years.

You open your mouth to protest but he is already slipping through the crowd. Drunk patrons fill the empty space within seconds so they can raise their blood alcohol content. Aaron tries to laugh it off, clapping you on the shoulder while you’re too busy staring at the back of Peter’s head disappearing around the corner.

There are two roads or whatever bullshit.

You blame it on the booze. The white claw you had sipped when you and Katie had gotten ready was the reason that you’d shrugged off Aarons hand. The extremely potent and barely drinkable margarita Flash made you at the pregame was the reason you started to slip through the crowd after him. The reason you burst through the doors of the boys bathroom without a second thought was- okay, so maybe it was also just who you were.

“Please. Let me do something to fix this,” you urge, ignoring the strange look from the man slipping around you to exit the bathroom. You also ignore the shocked look Peter gives your reflection of the dirty mirror in front of him.

“Nuh uh. No.” He practically gasps, spinning around and yanking out paper towels to hurriedly dry his hands. He has to get you out of here before you get yourself thrown out of the freaking bar.

You shoot him a look. You will stay in this bathroom all night if that was what it took… to fix… his shirt.

“Grow up Parker, it’s a boy’s bathroom. There are stalls. I’m not even crawling under one!” Your hands move as you speak while his hands find your shoulders. His touch is gentle but his face is panicked. You don’t stop him from spinning you around, guiding you out the door even when you turn your head back so you can face him.

“Look. I just want to make sure I didn’t ruin your night because I feel like a total asshole. It was an accident and now I feel your night is ruined because you're all damp and smelling like vodka.” Peter focuses on maneuvering you through the crowd. He doesn’t have the heart (or the guts) to admit that his shirt being soaked with vodka is the least of his concerns. It is *how* it got soaked in the first place. That was the real issue.

No. The real issue was you. Your presence. The fact he had to touch you right now as he manages to avoid letting anyone collide with you since you are too focused on rambling.

“Okay, you didn’t ruin my night.” The words are practically a groan of exasperation in the hopes you will just drop this. That you will just return to your cool friends and you could all go and laugh at how uncool he is.

“No?” You ask flatly, your eyebrow rising in skepticism as you try to twist around to look at him better over your shoulder. He is more concerned with keeping any drunk people from slamming into me or vice versa. “Because I feel like I did. I feel like I definitely ruined your night and you’re just telling me that I didn’t, just so I drop it and I don't let it eat away at my brain for the rest of my life.”

Because it will. I will certainly lose sleep over it.

Peter can feel his heart race as he listens to you. He has to bite his tongue to keep himself from screaming that you’d ruined his life, not his night.

”Just-“ he grumbles, rolling his eyes as he guides you around another group of drunks dancing against the wall. Never has he been more thankful for the fabric of your dress to keep his skin from yours. Even with the buffer, he feels like he is burning alive. He wishes he didn’t care that you were upset at the prospect of him being upset.

Afterall, you probably haven’t spared him a second though since high school graduation.

Not in the way he has thought about you.

Even though it’s mid-May, the nights lack the warmth that the days hold. The cool air feels good on your flushed cheeks. The alley is quiet, tucked between the bar and a closed up nail salon seated next door and the space is filled with the muffled hum of liquor filled banter.

You manage to twist around and plant yourself in front of him. He drops his hold on you but meets your wide and earnest eyes.

“Peter, all I’m saying is that I want to make it better. Yeah, I know,” you throw up your hands, letting their movements animate your words. “Yes, I’m aware that vodka sodas are only moderately pungent. And -yes. It wasn’t even that much- but still! I feel bad. Really bad. There has to be something I can do to make it right.”

Peter can feel his heart picking up again, his brain desperately trying to comprehend that after all these years - after *six years*, you were in front of him, telling him that you feel bad?

He can’t help but shake his head before quickly interjecting. “You don’t-” with a huff, he presses his palms against his face, like it will give him a moment to try and think clearly. They move up to his hair, shoving it off his forehead as he finally forces himself to actually look down at you. His voice is low and tired. “You don’t have to do anything about it. I promise. It was an accident, alright? Besides, I don’t even like that shirt that much.”

That’s a lie. It is his favorite shirt.

No one says anything for a long moment. You’re too busy studying his face for what is actually going on inside his head. He is too busy trying to force himself not to look away. Too many things hang in the foot of space between your bodies. You either can’t find, or can’t find the courage to pluck something out of the air and say something of substance.

Something that matters.

So your face softens and you opt for the cowards approach.

“You okay?”

A muscle in his jaw tenses which makes his expression look more grim. “I’m fine,” he grumbles, looking away to stare at a broken bottle, not wanting to hold your gaze anymore. He’d spent the past eight years pretending that the you-sized hole in his life had been filled with things like Spider-Man, The Bugle and his Bio-Physics degree he’d obtained last week. But now that you’re standing right here, it felt like it was somehow bigger.

Just like that, you realize that, even if he had been the one to guide the two of you out here, away from prying eyes and drunk chatter, it was your doing. You might well have been the one to drag him out the door by his hair. Your face falls when you realize he likely did it because he doesn’t think you’d want to be seen talking to him in public.

You frown at the floor and wrap your arms around yourself like you’re just trying to keep out the cool air.

“Sorry,” you murmur. It’s the best thing you can think to say. Peter looks at you, peeking up and taking notice of the little movements and gestures you make to try and smooth over the awkwardness. It reminds him of high school. Back in the middle of freshman year when you started on the edge of the circle of cheerleaders, working up the courage to belong before you eventually found yourself in the center senior year.

“It’s fine,” he says halfheartedly. In reality, it’s not fine, far from it, but… His hands curl and uncurl into fists at his side, trying to suppress the urge to reach for you.

“No, it's not.”

You’re not talking about the spilled drink anymore. You’re not even talking about the dissipation of your friendship at the start of high school. In some way, it all comes down to high school graduation four years ago.

There's a clarity to the loud sounds inside the bar as someone slips out the back door, too preoccupied with trying to light a cigarette as they head towards the street. When the door shuts again, it feels even quieter out here. Peter and you don’t say anything as they pass by and out of sight.

But neither of you return inside either.

“I shouldn’t have done that. That was…” you trail off, eyes finding the sky under pinched brows as you think. “Invasive? Presumptuous? Meddlesome?” A strained laugh falls from your mouth and cuts through the quiet. “Sorry. Vodka seriously inhibits my memory of vocabulary words.”

You don’t expect him to laugh. So when he lets out a snort and shakes his head, you find the courage to actually look at him from the corner of your eye. He’s not smiling but the little quirk of his lip might as well be a shit eating grin with how relieved it makes you feel.

“You’re drunk.” It is neither a question or statement, or both. You can't really tell.

Your nose scrunches up in thought before you settle on, “I would go with tipsy.” The toe of your shoe scuffs against the pavement and he shoves his hands in his front pockets. “I’m not sure how that’s legally determined or if there even is a way to legally determine that but…yeah. Sure. Let's go with tipsy.”

“You’re wasted,” he snorts again, only this time it sounds even more like a laugh than before.

Your mouth drops in mock offense, eyes pulling back towards his own. Something on his face catches in the light and he looks like he could almost glow in the dark but he’s forcing it down.

“Drunk is a strong word. More like… very tipsy.”

“I think we can go with sloshed instead.” Peter raises an eyebrow, his mouth curling upwards with amusement.

The roll of your eyes is dramatic and playful. Before you get the chance to shoot back, a vibrating and painful sound of an alarm from your purse interrupts you. He almost wonders if it’s a phone call, but when you retrieve it, press the screen and check the time, it’s almost relieving. Not that it didn’t interrupt the moment anyway.

“Shit,” you frown before sticking your phone back. “I really gotta get out of here. I told myself I’d be home by 1:30 since I’m meeting my parent’s for brunch.”

You’re leaving? It’s the first thought that crosses his mind and it has him on edge. For the first time in years, the two of you are alone together. Just the two of you, hidden away in an alley and having an actual conversation.

And it’s already over.

“You’re taking the train back now,” he asks with slight concern. His fingers fall from his hair so he can rub at his forehead. You were a New Yorker. Everyone took the subway. You were just a New Yorker that was determined to take the subway alone at 1 am on a Saturday while drunk in a short dress.

A skeptical smile tugs at your mouth. His concern isn’t shocking. He’d always been like that. Cautious and worried about the safety of others. It was why he always got his ass kicked in high school.

It just wasn’t something you experienced in a long time.

“Umm… Yeah?” Shrugging, you retrieve your phone from your purse to shoot off a text to Katie and Flash that you’re heading home. Peter opens his mouth to say something before thinking better of it. It wasn’t that he didn’t think you could handle yourself. The last thing he needed was to piss you off in this one moment of a truce.

“My apartment’s not that far anyway,” you continue as a little thumbs up appears by your text in the group chat. The phone returns to your bag amongst your wallet and lip gloss. He is already looking at you when you lift your head up to look at him.

For a moment, he kind of looks like he is 11 years old again. Like you half expect him to smile and reveal his canine tooth is still growing in. That he’ll give you the same grin through the glass of your bedroom window when the two of you were long supposed to be asleep. How he would invite you to crawl out and to accompany him to the subway because he liked it when you watched him try and skateboard in an empty train. At first, you would always hiss out ‘no’s’ which would only make him whine your name from his spot on the windowsill. Eventually, you’d relent because you always did. Then you would spend breakfast with your parents exhausted and biting down on a smile from sitting on the secret events from the night before.

“Wait, you’re taking the subway alone?” he asks, his eyebrows furrowing even more than they already were before shooting upwards. He steps closer but doesn’t actually invade your space.

Alone, intoxicated, and all the way home… in a short dress…

Your own eyebrows raise in challenge. Even if you try not to look defensive, you can't help the way your arms fold over your chest and you settle back on your hip. You’ve lived in New York as long as he has, which is your entire life.

You could easily take the subway alone. It was something you’d done a million times and you were sure he had done it as much too.

A little bit of alcohol wasn’t enough to stop you and force you to waste money on a cab.

“Yeah…”

“Okay,” he sighs and you relax, both of your shoulders sagging in relief for different reasons. “I’m making sure you get home.” The words slip out and he doesn’t even think to hold them back.

You open your mouth to argue, but he continues speaking, his hands raising in surrender. “I’m sure you do it all the time but, I mean… I just…you’re drunk.”

“Not drunk. Very tipsy,” you mutter under your breath but there's no hint of actually putting up a fight. Considering your options, you look up towards the night sky like you’ll find some sort of argument hidden up amongst the stars. There are no stars. Just heavy looking clouds that hang above Manhattan with the umpteenth threat of rain this week. You don’t find one. Making a face, you know he has a point.

Odds were, you would probably be fine walking the few blocks to the subway and taking it a couple of stops towards your apartment. There was always that chance that you wouldn’t be.

The problem was that your apartment was out of the way. How did you know that? Peter lived with Ned. Ned Leeds, the same Ned Leeds that had been following Katie around from the age of five until now like a love sick puppy that rambled horribly in her presence about every detail of his life. So yes, the fact he and Peter were roommates had come up plenty of times when you and your current roommate bumped into Ned. Just like he had, in excruciating detail, explained exactly where he lived in case Katie ever happened to be in the area.

“You’re just going to tag along all the way to East village… at one in the morning… and then… trek all the way back to your place?” You shake your head. “I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You aren’t asking. I’m offering.”

The prospect of your safety overrides any arguments he could possibly make.

If he stays here and something happens to you, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself.

A guilty expression flashes in his eyes at the thought, that little *what if.* It had been replaying in his head since he got bit by that spider when he was sixteen. How the thought of where you were and what you were doing flashed through his mind anytime there was a large-scale disaster threatening New York. There were a few times it got so bad, he’d had to swing by your apartment- not in a stalker way! Just so he could know you were fine.

Besides, he only knew because your mom told Aunt May, who then mentioned it to him.

When you don’t say anything, he nods towards the mouth of the alley. “Come on.” He’s already walking towards the street, spinning on his heels and walking backwards. “It’s fine. I’ll take a cab home or something quicker than the subway.”

Something quicker than the subway and isn’t a cab? All you can do is snort as you scramble to catch up beside him. Now you just feel worse as you step onto the sidewalk. Not only does he probably resent you for the end of our friendship eight years ago and the… incident four years ago on the night of graduation, now he has to go out of his way so I don’t get murdered walking home.

“Really Pete,” you urge. The nickname falls from your lips like second nature. “It’s okay. I’m good.”

He shakes his head and turns to raise an eyebrow at your statement. You’re not good. Even if you're not stumbling black out drunk, the pink flush on your cheeks and the wide eyes are dead giveaways of your impairment. As much as he wants to hold your hand, to throw an arm over your shoulders like when the both of you were kids, he doesn’t. But he does let his hand hover behind the small of your back as you manage to find the same pace.

“I’d rather not be worried the rest of the weekend. Think of it as satiating my restless mind,” he jokes, giving you a playful look.

It’s much quieter out here and there is space to take a breath. There’s still people mulling around as they make their way home or to the next stop of their Saturday night. No one pays the two of you much attention as your pace slows to a more leisurely one.

“First of all, not drunk. Very tipsy,” you huff. “And second of all…” Peter stretches his arms behind his head while you try to think of a good point aside from the fact that you feel bad.

For a lot of things.

“You’ll be walking alone too at three in the morning!”

“And I can handle that. I’m a big boy, remember?”

There it is. That stupid lopsided grin he’d always shoot you anytime he knew he was wearing you down. When he knew you had already given in but were hoping he would drop it before you caved. You make a face that screams ‘spare me’ and scoff. The dirty look quickly threatens to be a smile and he knows you’re all in now.

“We’ll take the train, I’ll walk you home. We can even grab a slice of pizza. My treat. For old times sake?” With a shake of your head, the sigh you make is answer enough. Your answer is a yes. Just like it always was.

Okay, and maybe it's more than fine and doesn’t feel like that much of a chore.

He takes the opportunity to grab your hand so he can drag you along. The action is like muscle memory and he doesn’t realize he is doing it until you falter. You note that his hands are rougher but that makes sense considering he’s 23 years old and no longer a 14 year old kid. It’s not like you have to admit out loud that you like it. That you’d missed it. So before he can really realize what he’s doing, you commit to it.

“Only if we can take it on the road,” you say pointedly with a look to match. “I meant what I said earlier. I really need to get home so I don’t oversleep and miss brunch. My parent’s will kill me.”

Giving you a tug forward, he snorts, “Then by all means. Let's go.”

The foot traffic around is nothing like a work week morning. No hustling of business men in suits or bustling women in sharp blazers clicking down the sidewalk. The night holds its own excitement now that the weather is survivable without an actual coat and gloves. Summer is approaching and it seems to stir people out of their homes and out later than usual.

Aside from the copious amounts of rain plaguing the past week.

It was nice. Your hands are clasped together so you can keep up and he can make sure he doesn't lose you. At least that’s what the both of you tell yourselves as you settle into the familiar warmth of each other's palms and the sense of comfort they still bring after eight years.

The last time you two had touched was four years ago.

Back when his hands had found themselves tangled in your hair so he could tilt your head back further and-

“How about my treat,” you offer, leaning your head forward to look at the side of his face since he’s a step ahead of you. “Because I’m the one ruining your night.”

Peter just shakes his head and shrugs in hopes to dissolve some of your concern. “Don’t worry about it. My night isn’t ruined. You’re worth it.”

Those words make you stumble, tripping over your own feet like the world was just thrown out of orbit and he doesn’t seem to notice. It’s the last thing you expect him to say. For a moment, you wonder if maybe you were so drunk that you were hallucinating.

But no. He said it.

Your silence makes him squeeze his eyes shut and hold in a curse. It was a stupid thing to say after eight years of distance. Right after grabbing your freaking hand like things were all fine and dandy between you. If he could take it back, he would. Instead, he manages to remain looking unbothered so you wont realize that even just your silence was enough to feel like a punch to the gut.

“As long as you’re sure,” you chuckle lamely, looking down to smooth your dress as you reel in your emotions and stand a little straighter; make your movements as sure as yourself as you can pretend to be. Because the truth is, walking with him, having him tug you along and being in his presence is enough to make you sure of absolutely nothing.

Not when you thought he would still hate you for making more friends at the start of high school. Back when you joined cheerleading on a whim and your classmates started to actually see you. Your classmates actually waved at you when you walked through the halls. They would sit by you in class and turn in their seats so you were included in the conversation. Friday nights were spent at football games before the whispers of an after party in the quarterbacks basement were no longer whispers and became actual invitations.

When you didn’t eat, sleep, and breathe Peter Parker like you had as a child. It wasn’t like you had woken up one day and gotten sick of him. You just slowly realized that maybe you could have more than just one person at your side.

“I am so sure,” he reassures, dropping your hold and slowing to a stop in front of a late night pizza shop. “I’m pretty sure I owe you money for something I broke when we were in elementary school. So yeah, I’m sure.” This time when he smiles bashfully back at you, you mirror him. Somehow that makes some of the tenseness traveling between your connected arms start to resolve.

Peter has spent the last eight years wondering what he did wrong.

Did you just get bored? Were the stories he was telling you just not enough? Did you grow tired of him dragging you into trouble? Was the feel of being seen by the rest of the world more gratifying than his eyes alone?

So many questions without answers.

For eight years they had plagued his mind, kept him up at night and eating at the back of his brain during the day.

The two of you chat in line which is a solid eight drunk people deep. Drunk conversation and the sound of the workers drowns out how easy it is to fall back into joking around. There are stalls in the conversation where neither of you have an immediate response but the recovery is quick enough that there's no suffocating awkward silence.

And it is then that you realize that being in his presence makes you miss him more than you had during the eight years of radio silence. From the way he rocks back and forth on his feet while making sure you order your slice first, you miss him. When you try to pay, he smoothly snatches your wallet out of your hands, not even missing a beat in his conversation with the teenager at the register as he hands him cash.

Once you both receive pizza slices bigger than your heads, grease seeping through the paper plates as you take the long way to the subway entrance.

You happily take a big bite, speaking around a mouthful of dough, cheese, and tomato. “I mean it. You were always horrible at saving money when we were kids.”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes which just makes it harder to chew around the smile straining your lips. There’s really no rush as you walk side by side without paying attention to where you're going. Eventually an entrance to the subway will appear.

“Oh, I’m sorry, what was that? I couldn’t hear you over the sound of you being so, very wrong.” Once he makes sure that there is not a drop of grease on his free hand, he playfully gives your head a shove. You make a sound of protest that quickly turns to one of amusement while trying to smooth your hair.

“I am not and you know it,” you shoot back and he responds with a dramatic waive of his hand. “You would always want ice cream or a comic book. Then you’d try and give me puppy dog eyes and promise you’d pay me back. I always gave in”

And he always paid you back. Eventually. Sometimes all at once or by leaving a crumpled up five in your backpack or taping a ten dollar bill to your window.

“I did not try puppy dog eyes,” he protests with his mouth full, chewing in a hurry so he can swallow. “Plus, I was the one funding all of the trouble we got into. And I was cute. Cut me some slack.”

Never had he been so glad to bail on a night of patrol so Ned could drag him to some dinghy bar just to watch Ned botch attempt number five million and six to woo Katie into falling in love with him.

Once we are finished, you dust the crumbs and grease from your fingertips and toss the plate into the trash. He’s been done for a while and you don't hesitate to grab his own plate and send it following mine into the dumpster.

“That’s because I was always better at saving money. If I hadn’t been, how was I supposed to treat you to snacks?”

Peter snickers, “You were definitely not better at saving your money than me.”

“Was too-”

“Nuh uh,” he cuts you off with a sarcastically smug expression. “Remember when you blew all your lunch money on those gum ball machines. The ones with the little rubber pencil toppers inside? You skipped lunch for over a week in hopes of getting that crab one.”

When he looks over at you and sees how your lips curl in an amused smile as you stare ahead, he bites down on his grin but it still feels white hot on his face.

Wherever you two have meandered to is much quieter. Cars are not passing down the road and most people still out at this hour are sticking to the well lit streets with more foot traffic.

“Oh my god. My mom was so mad at me when she found out.” You throw your head back to laugh at the memory. It feels good. It feels right to be here right now. “She found out because you told May that my mom was too busy that week to make me lunch so she’d put an extra sandwich in your lunch box for you to give me.”

Peter opens his mouth to speak but cuts himself off with a look of concentration.

Something is off.

His footsteps slow, yours following when a big burly man in a black fitted shirt steps into your path from the entrance of a long closed restaurant. It wasn’t just a passerby. You can tell from the way his attention is fixated on Peter. The guy's narrowed eyes move to size you up.

Not that you were a threat.

Another man steps out behind you, a third crossing the street and approaching. Muggers. That’s your first thought. It wasn’t terribly uncommon in a city like this, especially given the time and day. You quickly figure out this isn’t a chance of opportunity when the man standing a few feet in front of you speaks.

“Peter Parker?” He tilts his head, features dark from the lack of street lamps but there was no mistaking the glint in his eye. That was enough for Peter to step closer to you. He keeps you half behind him, an arm going out to keep his body between yours and theirs. There was more than one threat to worry about. The other two approach and settle in their own spots so they can circle you against the wall. Peter tries to have his head turned enough to keep the other two men in his peripheral vision.

You tell yourself to stay calm, that everything is going to be fine.

That voice in your head has to scream that at you when you see the flash of the gun dangling in the guy's hand.

#peter parker tasm #peter parker tasm x reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #marvel #the amazing spider man #spiderman

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cryptidsurveys · 3 months ago

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Friday, August 23rd, 2024.

First thing you touched this morning? Most likely my phone or one of my cats.

Last thing you yelled at? My dad was downstairs sneezin' up a storm yesterday, so I shouted a few "BLESSIN'S!" to him.

Is your car a piece of crap? Nope. It's around sixteen years old, but it still runs beautifully.

What’s something you’re looking forward to in the next 7 days? Visiting the Mountain Park - hopefully next Wednesday or Thursday.

What’s annoying you right now? This damn headache. It's been coming and going since last Wednesday and I'm just so over it! D;

When is the last time you looked in the mirror? After my post-animal shelter shower.

Would you have a long distance relationship with the person you are with now? I'm not in a relationship. In general, I'm not entirely opposed to a temporarily long-distance relationship, but I would make it very clear from the beginning that I'm not going to be the one uprooting my life in order for us to be together.

Who was the last person to make you really mad? Probably my mom during the initial stages of our reconnection. I didn't let her see the full extent of it (I mostly went home and grumbled to my dad about it), but I did eventually speak up and she's been a lot better about certain things since.

Where is the last place you had sex? Home.

Who is the last person you had sex with? A past partner.

Do you enjoy watching porn? No.

What’s your favorite drinking game? I've never played a drinking game.

Do you cry often? I would say regularly but not excessively.

Do you think someone is thinking of you right now? It's definitely possible.

Choose one to have (beer, cigs, or weed)? Cigarettes. An unfortunate habit I still haven't kicked. I quit smoking weed several years ago; the few times I smoked after that left me feeling dizzy, so I don't think I'll ever go back to it. And when it comes to alcohol, I have to be careful because it's very much a slippery slope. I try to keep it to rare/special occasions only.

Do you wish on stars? I wished on 11:11 earlier because I just want this headache to go awaaayyy.

Are you a big flirt? No.

What is the most disgusting prank you’ve ever done? Probably those stupid prank phone calls I made when I was a kid. It was the one and only time I was ever grounded for something, lmao. I was totally out of hand.

What would you do if you became pregnant? Ugh.

When did you last make out with someone? Was it good? Years ago.

Do you like your body? I've been pretty happy with it lately. It's becoming increasingly toned due to animal shelter work, and the way I carry myself is changing too. I'm starting to look more laidback and confident instead of hunched and anxious.

Are you a likeable person? Yeah.

Who did you dream of last night? I don't remember last night's dreams. I'm also falling so behind on my dream journal… Maybe later I'll try to jot down any recent fragments I can recall.

Whose body do you wish you had? I'm fine with my body. I just wish it didn't get so many migraines. Or ANY migraines.

What is the first thing you are going to do when you get home? I am at home. I showered. Then I laid in bed for a bit and listened to a YouTube video.

When is the last time you saw your mom? Yesterday. My parents and I went out for lunch at Pizza Ranch.

Have you ever been so in love, you wanted to get married? Yeah. Lol that yearning feels so unserious now. I truly loved those people, but I was so naive.

Did you get lucky on prom night? I didn't go to prom.

Is there a song that makes you cry? There are songs that have that potential.

Are you normally a horny person? No. I'm actually afraid of that feeling.

Where is your self-esteem from 1 (low) to 10 (high)? It's pretty decent. I'd give it a 6.5.

What color are your eyes? Hazel.

Plans for tonight? Just chillin'.

Plans for the weekend? Volunteering. I think Saturday will be a full day and Sunday might (?) be a half day - it just depends on who's going to be there. If they're short staffed, then I'll probably stay all day.

#survey #surveys #personal survey #random survey #survey blog

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world-of-hearts · 9 months ago

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Am yearning for Xiao tonight so here are some Modern!Xiao thoughts!

Late night drive with Xiao. He may look like a motorcycle rider (which he is, he learned from his father Zhongli) but he actually drives a sleek black car. It isn't the newest sports car or the newest anything. But it gets the job done and he takes immaculate care of it.

Xiao who, while driving me to the next town over to help a friend move house. He didn't want me to go out with someone a town over with it being winter and the sun already going down. So he decides to drive me over and help out.

Xiao who places his hand on my thigh and rubs his thumb over the skin that is covered by my jeans. He listens to the music on the radio as i sing along and nods his head when i say something and will add his own musings in.

Xiao who, once we get to the house and sees the ice covered stairs. He walks over and holds my hand, helping me up the icy porch as the sun has gone down completely.

Xiao who helps my friend and i disassemble a bed frame, multiple pieces of childrens furniture, and getting then into the bed of the friends truck and some in the trunk of his car.

Xiao who makes sure my friend gets into her truck safely and can drive off of the snow covered lawn before getting back into the car and driving behind her back to town where we both help her get all her stuff into her new place for the night.

Xiao who calls for pizza and wings (wings for Xiao which he orders another batch for me because he knows i'll want some)

Xiao who takes my coat once he realizes that i forgot to take it off as i was doing the actual ordering on the phone because he knows i'm used to doing it for my family so he let's me do it for us too.

Xiao who wraps his arms around my waist from behind and places small kisses on the freckles scattered across my shoulder before whispering soft words of love for only my ears to hear.

Xiao who sits down and watches all my favorite disney princess movies with me.

Xiao whose favorite princess is Tiana.

Xiao who loves candles because he is always reminded of me whenever he sees or smells them because i have one lit at all times.

Xiao who scolds me sternly yet lightly, never raising his voice, because i fell asleep with a candle burning.

Xiao who knows that i hate alcohol because of my childhood.

Xiao who knows that i hate yelling because of childhood.

Xiao who makes a list in secret (not really, it's just in his notes app) of all the experiences i never got as a kid/teen that he is certain he wants to experience with me.

Xiao who introduces me to his father Zhongli and is slightly horrified when Zhongli and I start playfully arguing and only slightly calms when he sees the two of us laughing and swapping viewpoints.

Xiao who decides he really does need to get out just a tiny bit more, if it means that i'll smile more often.

Xiao who looks up the games i talk/have talked about and decides to read up on the lore and characters so that he can talk with me about them.

Xiao who reluctantly starts playing some of those same games when i start getting into some of his hobbies.

Xiao who, when we were still in high school together and just friends, always picked me up from my career training course at the end of the day and drive us to go get some things to make whatever we were craving that day (we were both branching out on what we wanted to eat) and already having a vanilla iced cappuccino for me.

Xiao who, unironically, loves the final fantasy 13 triology and final fantasy 10-2.

Xiao who always plays at least 1 match of Mortal Kombat with me because he remembers i told him about my grandpa loving mortal kombat.

Xiao who always uses my favorite lady (mileena) to whoop my ass....am a kitana main.

Xiao who learns about my two most visited summer spots, both ice cream shops, and decides that we'll go back to my hometown to get some ice cream.

Xiao who, when he sees a spiritual shop in my hometown, which he knows is new from my bemoanment of the lack of them, nods at it and slides my hand in his as he tugs me towards it with a short "c'mon".

Xiao who sees a tarot deck that feels right and buys it in secret as a birthday present for me.

Xiao who sees my ex and holds me a little closer as we walk out of the shop and over to his car.

Xiao who asks softly if now would be a good time for him to meet my family.

Xiao who is nervous but moreso worried for me because he knows that things aren't always great between me and my mother.

Xiao who stops off on the opposite side of town from my childhood home at the park that i always wanted to go to but only ever seen in passing.

Xiao who sees the swing set and knows that that is where i would want to go but worried others would look at me weird.

Xiao who pulls me over to it and takes the swing next to me as the sun starts to set.

Xiao who asks after about an hour if i'm ready yet or if i need more time.

Xiao how ushers me over to the picnic tables to hold me and let me cry.

Xiao who kisses my forehead and rocks me back and forth as i thank him for loving me as much as he does.

Xiao decides now is a good time to take us home and put on a nice warm bath before turning the bedroom tv on to the princess and the frog as we munch on strawberry cheesecake tubs from the local grocery store.

Xiao who braids my hair while the Evangeline song is sang.

Xiao who finds himself singing along under his breath because he knows it's my favorite song.

#amyspeaksnonsense #self ships #Xiao x Persephone #Xiasephone #self ship chatter #Modern!Xiao #this is essentially just me needing and yearning for Xiao's comfort tonight

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lainternet99 · 1 month ago

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ENTRY #32

I was waaaaayyyyy too tired to write about my day yesterday, so here is my compensation.

I attended my class and there, I socialized with some girls. We did a bit of research about dualism and why René Descartes was a "dualist" (or considered one, at least). He mentioned that we had an exam next class regarding the theory of natural selection proposed by Darwin and told us to read the first few pages of chapter 3 of his book to study. I did that, but I think I'll reread it again just to make sure.

After class ended, I went to a protest and saw my brother and his friend. He knows the organizers, hence why he was there. His friend had a camera and took photos of the event, showing some to me and then retaking them. We then left and got some pizza and at this point, we were too tired to continue with the protest, so we took the metro home. His friend drove me home and hung out a bit more with my brother. I felt like a walking sleep-deprived maniac; each step I took yearned for a blanket and for my eyes to shut for a good long time. I slept pretty well, I won't lie.

Today I have my german oral exam. Mine is at 1:47 P.M, so I really have until to study. I do have a long break from 10 A.M to 11:30 A.M, so I plan on studying a bit. Our teacher gave us a list of questions (there are 40) and said she'll pick only 10 from there. She did not say which ones... I hope I do good!

I shall go now. I am too tired to continue; but I will write about my day today, I promise.

RATE OF THE DAY: 9/10

—— lainternet99

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yanderes-galore · 3 years ago

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Yandere Behavior For FNAF 1

I have writer's block so I decided to try and gauge how I feel about their 'Yandere Behavior'.

Animatronic or Android, does not matter. Does not include Golden Freddy.

Please give feedback! If I need to tweak them a bit, let me know! I am unsure if Foxy needs to be more sadistic or not. As in AR he is.

Pairing: Romantic/Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Sentient robots, Possessive behavior, Sadistic behavior, Deceptive behavior, Overprotective behavior, Implied attachment issues, Obsession, Stalking, Delusional behavior, Violent behavior.

Freddy Fazbear

- During the day he's rather kind, easygoing, and loves to have fun with his darling. Nothing too malicious happens during the day except Freddy following you around often.

- There's games he likes to play with his darling for fun in the day no matter if they're STAFF or not. The bear also enjoys playing songs for you!

- During the night, Freddy's behavior is darker. His songs and laughter feel taunting instead of friendly like during the day. He lurks in the darkness all so he can sit and watch you.

- Normally he likes to speak to you while stalking you in the dark, taking it as some sort of sick game.

- Other times he effortlessly slips into your office and surprises you.

- He just wants to be your friend to the very end, why don't you play some of his games with him?

- It'll be just the two of you and maybe an extra Freddy Fazbear suit~

- "You look so scared! It's just me, your dearest pal, Freddy Fazbear!"

- General Yandere Type: Deceptive, Possessive, Protective, Slightly Sadistic, Playful.

Bonnie The Bunny

- During the day Bonnie is usually boastful and prideful about his abilities. He isn't all that narcissistic but he loves to try and impress you with his playing during the day. He, like Freddy, is also quite laid back.

- He likes to follow you around, dedicate small songs to you, and gain your praise. He isn't as into games as Freddy is but he also doesn't mind them.

- During the night Bonnie is quite active, persistent and impatient. If he knows his darling is the guard during the night he'll rush over to get a look.

- He would keep his usual persona but after being locked out from the room so much, he gets irritable.

- The bunny wants to play songs to you and express how much he adores you and only you! Yet you act as though he's monstrous and out to get you.

- If he has to push through to see you, he won't hesitate.

- "Don't lock me out! I get so upset when you're out of my sight!"

- General Yandere Type: Clingy, Obsessive, Forceful, Sometimes aggressive, Playful.

Chica The Chicken

- During the day Chica is rather pushy but lovable to you. She loves food and follows you frequently wherever you go (especially if you have food)

- Due to being rather gluttonous towards food she can get distracted at times, yet this doesn't always work when it comes to you. Even if you manage to get her to take her eyes off you she comes back eventually.

- During the night she's rather determined and assertive. Upon finding out you're there during the night Chica will patiently wait by the door and stare at you through the window.

- She adores you and feeds off your attention in gluttonous amounts. While she loves to gorge herself on pizza, you are also something she can't get enough of.

- The chicken only wants to follow you around while you shower her in attention.

- If anyone gets in the way of her and you she isn't afraid to go a little 'haywire'.

- "I can't go long without you, cupcake. It's like I'm starving for you...."

- General Yandere Type: Possessive, Clingy, Obsessive, Sometimes aggressive, Easily distracted.

Foxy The Pirate Fox

- Foxy is usually broken down during the day, which makes him rather reclusive. He isn't sure how to react to people during the day due to years of deactivation.

- He may still watch his darling from his cove, however. Being alone for so long makes him yearn for some sort of attention. He's going insane, he wants you to look his way at least once.

- During the night is usually where he shines. He's rather aggressive, mocking, and sadistic when not fixed. Towards you he tones it down a little to not scare his darling all that much.

- The most he wants from his darling, despite being a 'sadistic' type, is your attention. His sadism is usually towards others that he sees taking your attention. Sometimes it's directed towards you, like if he meets you as a night guard.

- He isn't afraid to bang on your door until your power runs out, letting him in your room. Everything about him is glitched but he tries his best to hum and show you that you shouldn't fear him.

- If he needs to force it out of you with a little violence, he's willing to try anything for that sweet attention of yours.

- Just keep your gaze on him...it's all he wants and asks for.

- "Don't turn away, matey! It's been so long since I've been noticed...."

General Yandere Type: Possessive, Clingy, Obsessive, Attention seeking, Delusional, Sadistic (Mostly towards others), Forceful.

(Different than the Foxy from my original concept as this one is unfixed.)

#yandere x reader #yandere fnaf #yandere fnaf 1 #yandere freddy fazbear #yandere bonnie the bunny #yandere chica the chicken #yandere foxy the pirate fox

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kaiijo · 3 years ago

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kaiijo’s 500 follower event

in honor of 500 followers and to show my appreciation, i’m holding a dialogue prompt drabble event!

status: CLOSED duration: 1 week (April 18 - April 25) event will close on April 25 at 11:59 pm EST

rules/guidelines

fandoms: twisted wonderland & genshin impact

won’t write: nsfw, dark content, yandere, mental illness

for requesting: 3 characters max., 3 prompt max overall (so if you request two characters in one ask, you can still only request 3 prompts)

request format: something like “cater and riddle with 19 from the fluff list!” or “hurt/comfort with childe with 1 from the angst list and 11 from the fluff list”

if you request multiple characters in one ask, i will write them in one drabble so if you want the characters to have separate drabbles, send another request

can request aus if you want!

i will write requests that i received before the event opened, but i won’t accept any normal requests during the duration of the event

drabbles may vary in length depending on inspiration but i will do my best keep lengths consistent

send in an ask if you have any questions!

have fun!!

dialogue prompts credits: this list and this list

Angst

“All I wanted was a happy ending.”

“Mistakes are easily made in the moment. Apologies are not.”

“I don’t want to feel this way anymore.”

“My heart tells me to kiss you, my head tells me to walk away.”

“I don’t want material belongings! I want my heart back!”

“Until you can return the time I wasted on you, I don’t want anything to do with you.”

“You can’t look pretty and dangerous at the same time. Not yet.”

“Kill everything dear to you and then you will know how it feels.”

“I don’t hold people close. It makes it easier for them to hurt you.”

“Don’t touch me. Your skin is poison.”

“I don’t like this, it feels weird.”

“Kill my feelings, kill my soul. Kill everything I am.”

“Don’t call me, I don’t want any contact with you.”

“It’s not working out. We’re not working out.”

“Hey, I’m leaving for good. I’ll…see you around.”

“You…do not look happy.”

“That is my choice! My decision to make, not yours! Not anyone else’s! Mine!”

“You can’t do that to me.”

“I don’t need anything more from you.”

“You’re not making it easy on me right now.”

Fluff

“Can we make cake? I like cake.”

Please hold me. It’s been a day.”

“I’ve never felt such love.”

“The moon is high tonight, it frames you well.”

“I want to dance through an army of fireflies with you.”

“Stars pale in comparison to you.”

“My heart hurts when I see you and I find myself drunk on the pain.”

“I would give up everything for the chance to see your laugh again.”

“I dedicated this nail to you, when I painted them.”

“All I want is to sleep by your side.”

“I’ve never enjoyed anything more than a hug from you.”

“My hand was made to fit into yours. That’s all there is to it.”

“I didn’t get soaked wet through walking to your house for you to say no to pizza. I have beer too. I know you’re sad, so let me in.”

“You just dropped love into my heart and that’s all I needed.”

“Why…why did you just take off your shirt?”

"If you’re going, I’m going.”

“God, I love you.”

“Wh – what? [Name], this is serious!”

“You make me brave.”

“Just jump, I’ll catch you.”

Soulmates

“It was a matter of time before we got together.”

“My soul sings when it feels you.”

“Please, please hold my hand, and make me whole.”

“My life missed yours forever.”

“If my soul had been cut in half at birth, it would have gone to you.”

“We’re two bodies with one soul only.”

“I couldn’t imagine my future without you now that I have you.”

“I feel like I’ve died now he’s/she’s/they’re gone.”

“Please take my soul and never let go.”

“I’ve never seen color like I do with you.”

“All my soul yearns for is your presence.”

“We can’t win. Either I have you and my soul sings but your cries, or we’re apart and your soul rejoices but mine dies.”

“Time is what we don’t have, but you are what I need.”

“I didn’t think I could find someone as perfectly matched as you.”

“Please treat me with kid gloves, my soul can’t take much more.”

“Soulmates don’t have to be romantic. Sometimes your soul resonates with a friend.”

“This existence would mean little without you.”

“Why try to force it? If we’re truly soulmates, it’ll happen.”

“Please keep me close until the close of the final day.”

“Everything about you is amazing to me.”

#twisted wonderland x reader #genshin impact x reader #twisted wonderland #genshin impact #twst #genshin #kaiijo's 500 follower event #500 follower event

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hxneyandespressx · 4 years ago

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since we’re alone, you can show me your heart

summary: what happens when derek gets a nightmare? the only one who can calm him down is his pretty boy

pairing: spencer reid x derek morgan (moreid)

word count: 1.9k

content warnings: mentions of gun and shooting

a/n: set after criminal minds season 11 episode 11 entropy

☆。*。☆。

Spencer ran frantically around his dark and messy apartment, picking up the case files and Chinese takeout boxes that had piled up on his antique coffee table. Few peanut oil stains stuck onto the wooden top. The anxious man took the nearest napkin, hoping that it was clean, and tried his best to wipe off the oil stains. Seeing that they wouldn’t come off, Spencer exasperatedly dropped the napkin onto the table and rushed over to his kitchen, grabbing the necessary cleaning supplies. He got his bottle of white vinegar and water, a pair of yellow rubber gloves, and an old rag underneath the kitchen sink.

By the time Spencer was done, every room in his apartment was clean to his standard. Not a book out of place, no dust lingering in the air. Spencer felt both scared and excited about having his co-workers come over to his place. He never had them over until today. He felt scared if a game, like truth or dare, made him confess his true feelings about his boyfriend.

Derek and Spencer had worked with each other for a long time. As the years went by, experiencing the highs and lows of being FBI agents together, the two of them felt their hearts yearn for each other, but neither of them acted upon it. They were scared of the possibility of rejection, tarnishing their friendship. It was not until Derek decided to break the ice and asked out Spencer. The young man was delighted to have his crush ask him out. It was the one thing that went right in his life.

Three months in and either of them hasn’t said “I love you” yet. Either of them was scared to frighten off the other. Saying “I love you” was a big commitment. They were trying to take things slow, not to rush each other, even though they had known each other for a long time.

The gang was heading over to Spencer’s for a little sleepover to relax as they hadn’t received any new cases within the past 2 weeks. It was nice to have a break from all the traveling and dealing with unsubs; however, it does get boring doing paperwork and in-office consultations for hours.

Spencer’s phone pinged multiple times and a bunch of text notifications came.

Hotch: Sorry, can’t make it. I couldn’t find a babysitter for Jack and Jessica is busy at work tonight. Maybe next time.

Tara: going out on the town with the ladies!

Penelope: sorry spencer but jj tara and i are having a ladies night :(

JJ: sorry spence! perhaps next time!

Rossi: Sorry kid. Forgot to tell you that I’m driving up to Montauk to visit a buddy of mine.

Spencer sighed and felt defeated. Everyone bailed on him at the last minute. Everyone except for Derek. That was fine with Spencer, as this could be a date night for them. Just then, the doorbell rang, indicating someone had arrived. Having a small smile on his face, Spencer scurried to the front door and opened it. It revealed one handsome Derek Morgan, who was holding a large pizza in one hand and a small bouquet of flowers in the other.

“I saw in the group chat that everyone else bailed on this.” Derek said.

“Yeah but this could be a date night for us.” Spencer smiled at his little proposition. Derek smiled, showing off his brilliant pearly whites, as he entered the apartment.

The couple spent their night-in watching movies, eating pizza, and Spencer going off tangents on his passions. Whenever Spencer starts to rant about one of his passions, Derek just stared at his little genius and smiled at how happy his boyfriend was. And that continued all night long, Derek listening to Spencer talk about 19th-century British literature, coupled with watching random movies of various genres.

Nearing 1 am, the couple laid on the couch, with Spencer in Derek’s arms. The tv was playing Julie & Julia in the background. Spencer was half asleep and noticed that Derek was sleeping already. He gently wiggled out of Derek’s arms and stood up from the couch, scratching his scalp and messing up his already messy curly hair.

“Hey. Let’s go to bed.” Spencer softly said, patting his boyfriend’s shoulder. Derek woke up, feeling groggy. Spencer led the way to his room, holding Derek’s hand. They both flopped onto the bed and Derek wrapped an arm around Spencer’s waist. They were used to sharing a room together, even a bed due to mistakes occurring at the hotels they stayed at when they were on cases. Sleep washed over them as the golden dust of the Sandman worked its magic.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Standing across from Derek were Spencer and Cat Adams. The hitwoman had a gun pointed at one scared Spencer Reid. Internally, Derek was screaming. On the outside, he kept his cool and calm composure.

“Morgan, get out.” Spencer demanded.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Derek said, his voice shaking a little.

“Hm… I guess we’re back where we started. You and me with a gun.” Cat said without a care in the world, keeping the gun aimed at Spencer.

“Reid, it’s time.”

“No.”

“We don’t have a choice. We have to do it,” Derek said. Spencer kept shaking his head no. “We found your father.” the unsub stood there in shock for a few seconds, before rage set inside of her.

“You’re lying. I don’t like men who lie. You men are all the same.” Cat said as she gauged the trigger on her gun. She shot Spencer in the head and without hesitation, Derek started to shoot at the unsub. Derek ran over to Spencer and held his dying love in his arms. He tried to keep him alive until the paramedics came. The last words Derek said was “I love you” before his boy wonder went limp.

Derek woke up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat. He heard himself breathing heavily and felt anxious from the nightmare he just had. The frightened man groggily rubbed his eyes to get rid of the Sandman’s dust. Leaning his back against the headboard, Derek stared at the wall across from him, concentrating his eyes on one spot. He hoped that this technique would help him fall back asleep. Alas, he was shaken up from the nightmare.

The dazed man anxiously searched for his phone, wondering how much time has passed. Fumbling through the grey sheets and trying not to wake up Spencer, Derek found his phone, turning on the touchscreen, the blue screen lit up brightly. 3:20 am. Derek took a deep breath and sighed, leaning his head back onto the headboard and looked over to see his baby-faced boyfriend fast asleep. A soft smile appeared on Derek’s face, reminding him of his reality: Spencer being his angel.

Feeling restless, Derek pushed the comforter off of himself and quietly got off of the bed. He opened the bedroom door and went to the bathroom that was down the hall. His hands turned on the faucet and cupped together to gather the running water. Derek splashed cold water onto his face, making him more alert and awake. His eyes caught the sight of his face in the mirror. Smile lines decorated his face, which contrasted the dark circles forming underneath his eyes. Derek sighed and made his way towards the kitchen.

Derek has come over to Spencer’s place many times before, so much so he knows the way around like the back of his hand. With ease, his muscular hand grabbed a tall glass, with an accompanying coaster, in one of the cabinets above. He filled the glass with water from the faucet below. Loud gulps could be heard as Derek drank the water, cool and fresh like he had found an oasis. Just as Derek gently placed the glass on the coaster, his ears caught the shuffling feet of a tired Spencer.

“Derek?” Spencer tiredly said. “What are you doing up?”

“Just needed some water, that is all.” Derek said his half truth-half lie. The young man shrugged and went towards the refrigerator.

Unknowingly, Derek started to tap his fingers against the dark grey laminate countertop. Spencer caught the sound with his ears and turned to face his boyfriend.

“Derek? Are you okay?”

“Yeah? Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

“Because you’re tapping your fingers across the countertop.” Spencer pointed out. When the tired genius mentioned the action, Derek immediately stopped, his eyes glancing at Spencer.

“We’re profilers, Derek. You can’t hide anything from me.” Spencer said, feeling concerned for his best friend. The mousy-haired man felt like a hypocrite after saying that to Derek. During the many years he worked with the handsome man in front of him, Spencer developed a crush on him. At first, it was just a silly little infatuation, but as time passed, it changed to being a crush. The young man was able to hide it well. That was until Derek reciprocated his feelings. That same crush turned into Spencer dating Derek. In these past few months, Spencer wanted to tell his angel of a boyfriend that he loved him, but he was scared that Derek would run away from him, just like everyone else in his life.

“Ha– you’re right, pretty Ricky,” Derek said in defeat, hanging his head low. Spencer came up behind Derek slowly, hesitant to show some affection to his probably scared boyfriend. He mustered up his own fears and gave Derek a hug from behind, and felt his boyfriend relaxing in his arms. The couple stood in silence for some time, savoring the unspoken quietness between them.

“Remember when you had to go in as bait for Cat Adams?” Derek asked, breaking the silence.

“Oh– yeah. Why are you asking?” Spencer responded, not getting the hint where the conversation was going.

“Two weeks since that case, I had these nightmares. I thought I could get through with it, but I can’t. My nightmare was about that. I dreamt that you were shot by Cat.” Derek explained.

“Derek…” Spencer felt shocked while his heart was breaking. He felt like he had to do something. But all he could do was sit and listen to his boyfriend get everything off his chest.

"I wish this is a nightmare that I could just wake up from... but it feels all real... and I hate every second of it. I felt like I was going to lose you when it actually happened,” Derek’s voice cracked a bit as tears pricked his deep brown eyes. “And I don’t want this to repeat. I wouldn’t forgive myself.”

“I won’t let it happen again,” Spencer quietly said, caresses Derek’s cheek. “We will make sure she stays in prison, alright?” Derek brought Spencer in for a long embrace. The mousy-haired man wrapped his arms around his athletic boyfriend’s waist as he placed his head in the crook of Derek’s neck. The soft warmth coming off of Derek comforted Spencer, clashing with her cold pale skin.

“I just uh…” Derek said tiredly.

“Yeah.” Spencer replied, smiling softly. He knew in his heart that Derek said “I love you” to him.

“You know?”

“I know.”

taglist: @homosexualyearning / @ssajelle / @iconicc / @sunlightgalaxy / @pumpkin-stars / @hotchgans / @pen3mily / @hotchsbabygirl / @gravelyhumerus / @morcias / @notsosmexy / @cherrychris / @hqtchner / @girlbossjareau / @pagetsimp / @a-writers-ramblings / @morceid

#honeys stories #criminal minds #derek morgan #spencer reid #derek morgan x spencer reid #moreid #moreid fanfiction #moreid fanfic #mlm yearning #fanfiction #fanfic #userchips #userjemilyology #usersunlight #userhj #usercosmic #usertiana #userablake #userkodi

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iamnotoriginalphil · 4 years ago

Text

The 7 Times Lou Miller almost kissed you + the one time you kissed her

Synopsis: There’s always been something between you and Lou.

Words: 2910

Warnings: none

**GIF not mine**

You were sitting on the floor of the loft, a box of pizza open in front of you. The place was quiet, everyone out for the evening and you were getting ready to settle in for a nice evening alone full of bad movies and junk food. You were just lifting a large slice into your mouth when you heard footsteps.

“Oh, hi.”

You smiled up at Lou. She stood over you, one hand on her hip, a sceptical look on her face. You held up the slice of pizza.

“You want some?”

She lowered herself beside you, stretching her legs out in front of her. You pushed the box towards her, finally taking a bite of the cheesey goodness. She took a slice, considering you over the top of it.

“I thought you had to be at your club tonight,” you said, wiping some grease away from the corner of your mouth.

“Turns out things run smoother when I’m not there micro managing everyone,” she replied, “something about less pressure and stress on the employees making them perform better.”

“I can’t believe your one of those overbearing bosses,” you said, laughing, “I thought you were meant to be the cool one.”

“I am the cool one.”

You laughed, leaning towards her. You pressed your forehead against her shoulder, trying to stifle your giggling. You could practically feel her rolling her eyes.

“Okay, okay, no need to make such a big deal out of this,” she said.

She grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at her. Her eyes were sparkling despite the stern look on her face. You were still giggling, your tongue trapped between your teeth. Her eyes flickered down then back to yours. Your giggles stopped.

“I can think of a much more pleasurable way to spend the evening than being the overbearing boss at the club.”

You watched her draw steadily closer, heat rising in your cheeks. She was so close you could see every single eyelash, you could count the colours in her eyes, you could feel her breath ghosting over your lips. You might not have put it in to words before, but the yearning inside you was almost unbearable.

“Well that was a waste of time.”

You jerked away from Lou, your face feeling as hot as the sun. Daphne was striding past you, not even bothering to look at the two of you. You watched her go, shuffling away from Lou just a little. You picked up your slice of pizza again.

“There goes my quiet night,” you muttered.

“It was already gone, sweetheart.”

Lou got up, leaving you too.

You sat on a bench in the park, people watching as you waited for the rest of the team to show up. A lake was in front of you, ducks quacking as they chased tourists for food.

A warm body bumped against yours as it sat down. You turned your head, recognising the blonde hair in your peripheral vision. An arm looped through yours, a body pressing close in the cold air. You shifted against it, drawing closer to share in the warmth.

“You’re here early,” Lou said.

“I thought I’d get some fresh air,” you replied.

“I’m glad to catch you alone.”

Something in your lower stomach tightened. You drew away from her, wanting to put some space between the two of you. If what you thought was coming, you did not want to be sharing the same breathing space as her.

“Oh?” You tried to sound light but weren’t sure you’d managed it.

“We were interrupted last time,” she said.

“By Daphne.”

“Yes.”

Her hand came up, cupping your cheek to turn your head towards her. You stilled, not sure what she was doing. This was hardly the let down you’d been expecting.

“I intend to fix that now, sweetheart,”

Her breath ghosted over your lips. Your eyes slipped closed, waiting, every atom in your body straining towards her. She paused.

“Or another time.”

You blinked your eyes open. Lou was staring at something over your shoulder. You turned, looking too. Debbie was sauntering up the path, her hands in the pocket of her coat. You sighed, drawing away from Lou.

“To be picked up another time,” she said.

“Sure.”

The beat was thrumming through your body, your hips swaying in time. Alcohol had loosened you up, giving you the confidence you needed to join the dance floor. Your eyes were closed, feeling the music rather than watching the other dancers. You wanted to get lost in the moment forever. You were glad you’d accepted Lou’s invitation to visit her club, despite your initial anxiety. She hadn’t spoken of the almost kisses since that day in the park. You were hoping this was the olive branch to change that.

Warm hands settled on your hips. You jerked away, your eyes flying open. You turned your head, only to be met with blonde hair and the sting of vodka in your nose. You sighed, letting out a relieved chuckle.

You lent back against the strong body, following Lou as she picked up the rhythm you’d lost in your surprise. Her breath was ghosting over the skin of your neck. You shuddered, pressing against her more insistently.

One of her hands slipped around you, her fingers slipping under your shirt, brushing against the skin of your stomach. You groaned, turning your head to try and find her.

Blue eyes met yours, dark and all consuming. Your skin was hot, a coil within you tightening. Your eyes flickered down to her lips then back to her eyes. She tightened her hold on your hip.

Before ou could close the gap you felt someone grab your arm, pulling you out of Lou’s grasp. You turned, ready to shout at whoever it was. You met large dark eyes, Daphne grinning at you. Her eyes were a little glazed but other than that she looked as fresh as the start of the night.

“Come dance with me,” she shouted over the music.

You shot a glance at Lou over your shoulder but she’d already melted back into the crowd. You pushed the disappointment back down as you let Daphne lead you back into the dance.

You were lying on your bed, legs stretched out in front of you as you lent against the pile of pillows against your headboard. You had a book open in your lap, your finger running along the rough edges of the paper. You weren’t taking in the words, your ears straining for noises from the rest of the loft.

You’d heard movement before, the door closing, voices coming and going. It had all fallen silent a few minutes ago but it was hard to tell if you were alone in the building. You turned your attention back to the book, assuming that if the person you hoped to see was still there then she would come see you. Your business was unfinished.

You turned the page in your book. Your door creaked as it opened. You dragged your eyes up, watching Lou slip in. She climbed onto the bed beside you, leaning back in your pillows. You closed the book, putting it on your bedside table.

“Don’t stop on my account,” she said, flashing you a smile.

“I have something more interesting now,” you replied.

“Must be quite captivating to keep you from an interesting book.”

“Oh, it is.”

She swung herself over, straddling your lap. Your hands settled on her hips as she wrapped her arms around your neck.

“Fourth time is the charm,” she murmured.

She lent down, drawing closer to you as you strained up towards her. Her nose brushed against yours, her lips close enough to feel as she spoke.

“I’ve been waiting a long time for this.”

You heard the door below open and close, loud as a gunshot in the silence. Lou stilled, a hair’s breadth from you. You dug your fingers into the flesh of her hips, trying to bring her attention back to you, but she was listening to whoever had returned.

“Hey guys, is anyone here?” The voice called up to you.

“Tammy,” you said at the same time as Lou.

Lou hauled herself off you, her hands slipping from you. You let out a frustrated groan.

“Can’t we ignore her?” you asked.

“She’ll be knocking on the door any.” A knock sounded on the door, “second.”

“Anyone in there?” Tammy called through the wood.

Lou gave you a pointed look. You threw your hands in the air in surrender and fell back amongst your pillows. Lou climbed off the bed and opened the door.

“Oh sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Tammy said.

“You weren’t interrupting anything. We were discussing literature,” Lou replied, stepping out and closing the door.

You sighed, picking up your book again. It was the only company you’d have that night.

You had your hands cupped around a warm mug of coffee, leaning backwards on the bench in the kitchen. You were watching Tammy cook with a glass of wine in her hand, stirring something in a large pot. Whatever it was, it was making your mouth water.

“I didn’t realise Lou had such an interest in literature,” Tammy said.

“What?” She gave you a penetrating look, “oh, right. Yeah. She has all kinds of interests.”

“Interests you share?” You ignored the amusement in her voice.

“Sometimes.”

“And should we be worried about those shared interests?” she asked.

“I shouldn’t think so.”

“I hope not.”

The door slammed open, Lou striding in, a look of determination on her face. You gave her a smile but she ignored it, jerking her head to the stairs you. You followed behind, ignoring the penetrating stare of Tammy as you left.

Lou held the door to her bedroom open, waiting for you to enter. You slipped inside, looking around the room. It was clean, almost meticulously so. A large bed, white and soft, stood in the middle of the room, just waiting for someone to fall into it. The light streamed in through a huge window, bathing everything in warmth.

“Can I help you with something?” you asked after Lou had closed the door.

She plucked the mug from your hands, wrinkling her nose when she saw how milky you’d made it. She put it down on a shelf as you watched, not sure what she was doing. She stalked towards you, a fierce glint in her eye. You backed away, uncertainty keeping you from her. Your back hit the far wall. You inhaled sharply.

“I think it’s time we finished that discussion from the other night,” she said.

One hand landed on the wall by your head. You looked up into her face, feeling your skin burn with the intensity of her gaze. Her other hand grasped your chin, tilting your face up to her. She shook her hair from her eyes as she traced your bottom lip with her thumb. Warmth pooled in your stomach.

“I can’t take it any longer,” she said.

“Then kiss me.”

A loud banging started up on the door. Lou ignored it, drawing closer to you. Your eyes fell closed, waiting, every atom of your body straining towards her. The banging didn’t stop. With a growl she tore herself away from you, ripping the door open.

“If you can bear to, Tammy has finished cooking and we’d quite like you both to join us.”

Debbie. You pushed yourself off the wall, ignoring the way your legs wobbled beneath you. You walked past Lou and Deb, trying to regain your composure. You didn’t need to endure any more teasing. From any of them.

There was something to be said for the quiet of a library. All you could hear was the rustle of paper, the scratch of pens, the click of keyboards. You scratched the back of your neck as you looked over the old newspaper.

Debbie had sent you off to do some last minute research. She needed some leverage on someone, and given how the last job went, you were willing to trust her on this despite not knowing how it connected to the new job. There was nothing that had turned up yet, but Debbie had faith in you so you couldn’t let her down.

“Are you going to keep reading all night?”

You jumped, dropping the paper to the floor. You grumbled, stooping down to pick them up again. Lou chuckled, helping you collect the scattered papers. Her fingers brushed against yours as she passed them over.

“This is not proper library etiquette,” you said. She grinned at you.

“The library is closing soon,” she said, “c’mon, there’s a great Vietnamese place around the corner.”

“I’m not done yet.”

“Yes.” She put her hand over yours, “you are.”

You hadn’t realised how close she was to you. You turned your head, ready to tell her what she could do with her Vietnamese place, only to find your nose brushing against hers. You jerked back but one of her hands shot out, grasping the back of your neck.

Her eyes flicked down to your lips, your tongue darting out to wet them. You took a deep breath in, waiting, seeing the precipice before you. You were ready to jump.

“The library is closing for the night.”

You jumped. A woman was standing at the end of the stacks, looking at the two of you. You drew away from Lou, putting the papers down on the closest table. You walked past the librarian, assuming Lou would follow.

“So Vietnamese?” you asked over your shoulder to her.

“Vietnamese,” she agreed.

You were growing restless, Lou had been gone for a few weeks, putting plans into motion for the job. You didn’t like to admit you missed her but the loft felt empty without her snarky comments. You were lounging on the sofa, your eyes closed, listening to Amita and Constance talking.

You’d declined Daphne’s invitation to go out with her, you had ignored Amita and Constance’s attempts to draw you into conversation, and you hadn’t bothered listening to Rose’s mumblings about fabrics. All you wanted to do was lie there and think about things.

It was no secret there was something going on between you and Lou. Tammy had picked up on it weeks ago, Debbie probably knew longer, and finally, finally, the others were cluing in. If only something had actually happened.

The number of near misses were leaving you breathless. You were anxious, your stomach a roiling mess every time you saw her. It was a very specific type of torture. It was driving you crazy.

“Well, we’re ready to go tomorrow.”

You sat up, Lou had managed to enter through the door without you hearing it, masked by the chatter of your teammates. You blinked at her. She looked windswept, disgruntled, but satisfied with whatever she’d been doing.

“Then tomorrow we move out,” Debbie said from the upper level.

“Move out where?” Amita asked.

“To the west coast. Nineball will get us the tickets for tomorrow.”

“For all of us?” you asked.

“You better pack a bag.”

She disappeared back into her room, presumably to go through her extensive closet and pack what she’d need. You got off the sofa, wandering over to Lou.

She grabbed your face, pulling you towards her. She gave you an intense look, pulling you closer to her. Finally, you’d feel her lips against yours. Her eyes shone.

“Hey, there’ll be plenty of time to do that when we’re done with this job,” Debbie called down to you, “get packing.”

You slipped away before the disappointment could overwhelm you.

+ 1.

The job was a success. Or so you’d been told. You’re part had gone flawlessly, exactly to plan, just as Debbie had described. You assumed it had gone well with everyone else. Constance seemed to think so when you’d passed her as you’d left the building.

You rushed back towards the loft, detouring by your place to get changed to give you a better chance of not being recognised on any security cameras. Just like Debbie had told you.

The loft was quiet when you got back. You were used to people making all kind of noise, not the quiet strains of music from the upper level. You wandered up, hoping it was more than a forgotten radio.

You pushed the door open, knowing what you were hoping to see. A tall frame was laying on the bed, arms behind her head, eyes closed as her foot bobbed in time with the music. You smiled, closing the door too quietly to be heard over the music.

Her eyes opened as you hauled yourself onto the bed, slinging one leg over her lap. Her hands grabbed your hips, ready to push you off. You smiled, leaning down.

“Eighth time lucky,” you said.

You pressed your lips to hers before she could say anything, before anyone could walk in, before anything could stop you. Her fingers tightened on your hips. She kissed you hard, intense, like a drowning woman looking for air. You couldn’t stop yourself moaning into her mouth.

You didn’t stop when you heard other people come in. You didn’t stop when there was a knock on the door. You didn’t stop when you heard an exasperated noise from the doorway.

Nothing was going to stop you this time.

#writersmonth2020 #lou miller #lou miller imagine #lou miller x reader #lou miller x you

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kojinnie · 4 years ago

Note

tis is ranon! i wanna try the twisted match-up eventho it'll probably hurts. my worst traits would be

1. Not knowing myself well enough, having to ask others how i actually am from their eyes instead of looking through my own lense because I care of other's judgement better than mine.

2. I suck at handling compliment. Everytime anybody says anything good about me, I always get defensive by saying no, change the topic of the conversation, or saying "thank you, but [insert why i don't deserve compliment]"

3. Similar to the 2nd one, I have horrible horrible self esteem. I never really look at myself in a good light, I think I am horrible. Sometimes I feel like "im the worst" yet some of the times I feel like "woah I'm a queen". Even worse, sometimes I don't have the motivation to better myself in order to raise my self esteem.

My favourite(s) would be reiner and jean, you can choose the one with the worst(or whoever you prefer) compatibility with my traits. tears up already as I slip 1 dollar to your hand, whispering happy ending please..

Pairing: Jean x Reader

Summary: You accidentally meet Jean, your high school sweetheart, thirteen years later. While he has turned into a successful man whose face you'd see on TV a lot, you think of your life and what could have been with him, if only...

Tags: Angst/Fluff, coming of age, slice of life

Word Count: 3.6K

A/N: Oh Ranon my sweet child, hereby I present to thee... hopefully an antidote to the despair Yams had given us with 138. Hope you like it love!

Song mentioned: Linger by The Cranberries

"It's nice to see a familiar face 'round here."

There was no word that could describe the feelings you had upon hearing that voice. A voice that was once the first sound you hear in the morning and the one you say goodbye to before falling asleep. A voice that you had not heard for what felt like forever.

You didn't have to turn around to tell who it was, "Jean?"

The two of you erupted in laughter, both surprised by the mere coincidence of meeting each other at this old and ran-down department store, on the outskirt of the town you both grew up in.

Jean was quick to pull you into a big embrace that you gladly came into. A familiar piece of warmth was his hug, and yet it had struck you as odd that it did not feel foreign at the closest, although it had been years since the last time you met him.

Jean had grown very tall. There was no longer his signature undercut as he had let his hairs to grow past his ear. His chiseled jaw hid beneath dark brown beard he now had. You pretended to check him out and be shocked with the view, "You really grew! Like grew, GREW!" as if you hadn't seen him on the news station or the daily mail. As if you didn't follow his Instagram with your second account. As if you never thought of him at all.

He held your shoulder and pulled away to look at you, "Thirteen years and you don't look any different."

Your face grew hot and the compliment sent an uncanny discomfort to your guts, "Ah the lighting sucks here - to my advantage, fortunately."

There was a disapproving look in Jean's eyes for a passing moment before he carried on with the conversation. He didn't expect to see you at the old department store the two of you used to roam in after school, he said. Neither did you to ever meet him again, especially here. A place so awfully ordinary for someone who had grown to be the best version of himself. Jean had finally achieved his dream to be a household name in the country as one of the rising young attorneys.

The celebrity status he had achieved, all the actresses and models he had dated - it all inflicted you with some kind of inexplicable pain. One that made you feel worthless, to say the least. Someone who used to be so close to your heart, had grown so magnificently, leaving you with the painful fate of being ordinary. Yet, still your face lit up in distant pride each time a mention of Jean’s name surfaced, be it from the passing conversation your friend had, or to see it announced by the news anchor for some big public case he was working on.

Jean said that he returned home for a funeral. His uncle died, and he needed a spare sandal. He didn't know any other store, as the area both of you grew up in had changed a lot. Leaving this old department store the only place he could remember.

You passed your condolence but he was more curious with what you were up to. You chuckled because he seemed so serious when he asked, "Didn't you move out to the city? Why the hell are you coming back?" as if the misplacement of seeing someone so glitzy in this boring, dilapidated town didn't apply to him.

So you answered, and Jean turned silent for a moment. He tilted his head downward, and you noticed that he was the same person with the same mannerism. Although he was no longer the 17-year-old boy who used to get all ruffed up in school fight, trying to defend you from some stupid jocks; nor was he still the tall, lanky kid from your Home Economics class that you gave your first kiss to.

Your mind couldn’t help but to race to all the what-ifs, and the presence of Jean before your eyes right now only made the wonderings more palpable.

Jean smiled faintly to your answer, “Congratulations,” he still made his way to pat the side of your head, something he used to do every time, “big step, huh?”

“Yeah, it’s scary.”

“So, who’s the lucky guy? Anyone I know from school?” Jean said, faking the enthusiasm in his tone, but you didn’t notice. Because in your mind, it would be an absurd idea to think that you would still have the tiniest bit of effect on Jean, for he had outgrown all the memories he ever had with you.

“No, no,” you tried to mask the bitterness that suddenly emerged on the back of your tongue, “we met at work. He’s a great guy.”

Indeed, he was. The reason why you returned home was because you were getting married, and your fiancée wanted to be close with your family, for he didn’t have one growing up. He was an exceptional man, he had this magnetism in him, with the way he perceived things, to the abiding tenacity he had in him.

Your fiancée was a man you knew you could lean on in the eye of adversity. That’s why you agreed to marry him. But then again, there was always a void inside your heart that had no resolve to it for so many years. Your fiancée was your foundation, and yet, perhaps selfishly, you still yearned for the childish laughter and the irreplaceable feeling of freedom you once had with the man standing tall before you. Whose glance never failed to make you feel the most at ease with.

“He must be a pretty great guy to get you,” Jean’s faint smile grew into a grin, he was trying to down play the commotion he started to feel within his chest, “what’s his name? So, I can picture him.”

You laughed, because it was only natural for you to do so in the presence of the first guy you had fallen for, the first guy to ever told you how pretty you were and how all your imperfections never mattered to him, the first one to bring your teary face into his embrace after a gruesome day, before saying, ‘I never thought it’s possible. But, crazy, seeing you cry hurts me too.’

However, you knew, that all those memories had passed by and you were happy with where you were now. “Reiner,” you smiled at the mention of his name, “my fiancée’s name is Reiner Braun. He’s… amazing.”

“Wow. Tough name. Probably someone I’d stay clear from in high school.”

Both of you laughed, and the two of you continued to talk, as you walked him through the desolated alleys to find the sandal that he wanted to buy, and Jean walking you to the towel aisle that you had meant to buy one for Reiner, only to find out that they had stopped selling towels since long time ago. The laughter and reminiscing persisted until the cashier row when Jean heard your stomach grumble. Both of you exchanged glances and broke into yet another laughter.

“Salerno’s?” Jean said, suggesting the pizza place off the highway, where you had spent so many dates with him back then.

“How could I ever say no to that?”

“Settled, then. Did you drive here?” Jean’s eyes gazed afar to the parking lot, strangely looking for the old car you used to drive back in school, before realizing that thirteen years had passed and there was no chance that sickly car could ever survive the time.

“No, actually Reiner dropped me and—” As if staged by the universe, your phone rung and Reiner was calling, “—right in time, it’s him!”

You walked away from Jean for a moment as he looked for his car key inside jacket. Across the line, Reiner was gruntling, his voice was hazy, “Babe—”

“Reiner, I bumped into an old friend!” there was a sing-songy tone in your words. Through the phone, Reiner chuckled, picking up the excitement in your voice, even though it was getting more apparent that Reiner was drowsy, “Anyway babe, can you get an Uber? I took the cough syrup your mum gave me, and now I’m sleepy as fuck. ‘Fraid I won’t be able to drive.”

You turned to Jean and saw him jingling his car key at you, before returning back to Reiner on the phone, “Rei, I think my friend can drive me home. I’ll be stopping at Salerno’s, do you want anything? The calzone maybe?”

Reiner yawned, “That sounds nice but—” yet another yawn, “I’m gonna pass out. Come home soon, okay? Tuck me in.”

You cackled at the buff man whining before you said goodbye and followed Jean into his car.

The trip to Salerno’s was nourishing with memories. The poplar trees along the avenue had been replaced by lines of billboards – from advertisement of real estate agent to divorce attorney, they all reminded you of how much the town had changed. Yet the sense of comfort you shared with Jean as you joked about all of the absurd things you saw along the way, had not changed at all.

If for one second you forgot that you were driving in Jean’s expensive car, and that you imagined he was wearing a shabby soccer jersey instead of a tailored-fit shirt – if you closed your eyes and thought that thirteen years hadn’t gone by between the two of you, it almost felt like you rode a time machine to a time when Jean was yours and you were his. And something about the thought of it just broke your heart.

When Jean pulled over at Salerno’s and found out that it’s past the time for dine-in, the two of you decided to eat at his car instead. Jean didn’t even ask what you want and he returned with exactly what you had in mind, the classic calzone, something you always used to have. He remembered.

The two of you laughed, bantered and joked at each other. It felt almost as if no distance had ever been laid out between the two of you, like you hadn’t lived an entirely different life, like he was the same person after all. He hadn’t once made you self-conscious like you thought you would, considering the amount of success he had attained for himself. You felt bad for accusing Jean of the worst, when all it was just a projection of your own insecurity.

“So, you’re getting married on the 15th, and your annoying aunt is not invited?”

“Yeah, thank God for the pandemic somehow. Legit excuse, when all I wanted was not to have her talk shit about Reiner on my wedding day,” you munched through your calzone, talking mindlessly, “as for you, sir, you’re invited. That’s a no-brainer. Hereby I invite thee to my humble dwelling. Bring your model girlfriend, please, so I can brag to my cousins.”

His grin subsided into a weak smile and then into nothing at all, as he sipped on his coke. Suddenly awkward silence loomed within the small space of his car.

“Jean,” you shifted in your seat as the guilt grew on you, realizing the error in your judgment, “sorry I was being presumptuous.”

“No worries, it wasn’t serious. None of it ever was.”

You nodded, engulfed in your own guilt for bringing a bad topic up. The silence let the radio’s murmur to become noticeable, and an old song had just been played through the local radio, a tune that you used to listen with him on the back of your old creaking car after a make-out session filled with enraging teenage hormones.

And I’m in so deep~

You know I’m such a fool for you~

You got me wrapped around your finger I—

Do you have to let it linger?

You sighed and finally looked at Jean with his head hanging low, “Do you want to settle down someday?”

“Eventually.” Jean answered nonchalantly, “Not even sure about the whole relationship thingy.”

“Oh.” An acknowledgment you voiced, before succumbing to yet another silence.

Jean called your name softly and when you turned to face him, he was looking at you. Even in the darkness of the parking lot, you could see his honey eyes gleamed in a look that was so familiar to you—a look of disappointment, “Tell me, how could you never end up working where you’ve always wanted to be?”

You were pulled even deeper into your silence as you looked away. Suddenly a hot rash of sadness started to swallow you whole, “I—”

You tried to voice out a tangible reason, but you had realized that all of it was your own doing. Your insecurity, your self-consciousness, the thought that you were never good enough for the thing you once wanted so bad; all of it led to a life unlived, and to have someone finally putting you in your place was embarrassing, if not painful, “—wasn’t sure if I really wanted it and—”

“—wasn’t sure if I was good enough to pass the test.”

“So, after college, you never ended up applying there? Not even a try?”

You shook your head embarrassed, looking down at your shoes.

Jean sighed and laid his food on the dashboard, before reaching for your right hand and held it warmly into his grasp. He called your name which propelled you to look back at him, “Weren’t you the one who talked me into getting into law school? Even when I thought it was impossible? Weren’t you the one who wrote on my yearbook to-my-future-attorney when everyone was convinced that I’d end up working a mediocre office job? Or a mechanic in my Dad’s shop?”

Jean carried on, “I just… I just don’t understand. How could you have so much conviction for other people but—but yourself?”

You passed a grim smile, as vulnerability started to catch up with you, “Nevermind Jean, it’s passed. I am where I am now.”

“But, wasn’t it your dream?” Jean grew antsy on his seat, it was obvious that he truly didn’t understand, “The pages and pages and pages of diary you wrote about wanting to work there? What happened?”

You sighed, running out of words to say, until you caved in, “Maybe I never knew what I truly wanted.”

“Is that why?” Jean shot another look at you, there was an intensity in his eyes that you had never seen before. There you wondered what had happened to Jean’s life in all those years passed at your absence, had he led a difficult life before getting the success he was enjoying now? “Is that why you left me—because you didn’t know what you truly want?”

Jean understood the consequence of his action, he was a well-accomplished attorney after all. He also understood the vivid pain painted all over your face, but he was taking his shot. Years of wondering where had you gone, what kind of live had you lived – you never ceased to haunt him, all the what-ifs with you he always thought about whenever he broke off yet another meaningless relationship with yet another woman he’d never cared for in his life. Over the years, he’d taken a close look at you. He’d find you on the internet, he’d asked about you to friends of a friend that was still in touch with you, he’d ‘accidentally’ found your legal documents just to see that you had gotten your college degree one year earlier than him. He didn’t know why the thought of you lingered, you just did. Arriving into his dreams where he was seventeen again and unassuming, only for him to wake up disappointed at seeing a woman that wasn’t you in his bed.

For the longest time, Jean had fended for himself to be where he’s now. When survival had finally bore fruits, what else could there be for him? Still, he felt lonely in the embrace of another woman, still he felt the void persisted even if he spent his money on things he didn’t need. Jean never thought, that after years of dreaming to be the person he’s now, all he yearned for was to have a piece of simple, ordinary and innocent happiness he once had with you.

You were, after all, the only thing that could remind him of the innocence Jean had lost after years of grueling work as an attorney—seeing how corrupt and insidious men can be. So, when his wearied eyes landed on the sight of you this evening, in the alley of that long-forgotten Department Store, Jean had no choice but to finally face his haunting.

“Jean, it’s a long time ago,” you smile, cupping his hand with your free hand, “besides, I’m no longer your type, right?” A grin, a playful grin, painfully fabricated and Jean saw right through it.

You could feel the air had gotten thick in his car, and you shifted closer to the door. Jean let go of your hand as he moved closer to you, running his long fingers through your hair. His voice had gotten deep and you could sense a hint of pain in his words, “Maybe I never had a type.”

He dragged his gaze all over your face; your eyes, your nose, your lips – the way he used to reassure that you were so beautiful in his eyes despite the self-hate you inflicted upon yourself, “Maybe all I ever wanted was you and all I ever did with those girls was to try finding you in them,” he forced a smile, so stale, so painful, “to no avail.”

You could feel the air into your lung was compromised as you battled the tears, “Jean…”

“Out of so many things that I have been brave for, I was never brave enough for one thing that I needed the most: to tell you that it’s always been you,” Jean slithered his hands through your waist and pulled you into his embrace. He laid his head, heavy with loneliness and exhaustion on to the nook of your shoulder. For lack of better term, Jean was finally back home, as he muttered, letting go of all his inhibitions, “Baby, it’s always been you. It’s always been you.”

Your whole body was weak with emotions. The thoughts, the persistent ones – the what-ifs you could have had with Jean, the life you could have lived and the dream that could have been fulfilled. Without your permission, the tears fell to your dismay as you thought of one last thing remaining in your heart: Reiner. The way he smiled and listened all through your nightly despairs, caressing you close until you fell asleep, exhausted with tears dried up all over your face. The way Reiner whispered on to your ear, amidst your drowsiness, that he loved you and that he promised to make you whole, to fill the void you had always feared for. All the little things he had done without you asking, or the way he loved your family as if they were his own.

You cursed yourself for being surprised at how much you realized that you truly loved Reiner, even when you were in the embrace of someone you wondered about often. You realized, the best way to prove to someone that you love them was to stick around. And Reiner had stuck around, as much as you stuck around for him.

You left Jean long time ago for reasons you only vaguely remembered now, but life went on and sooner or later you should make it in your heart to accept it. You smiled and thought of your life. Sure, there was a lot of thing you need to patch up, but what is life if not persevering?

You pulled away from Jean, surprised to see a beaten look on his face. Far away from the dandy and sharp young attorney you would see on the news. Once, you loved this man, but years had passed and the one he wanted was no longer there. You were no longer the person you were thirteen years ago. You were no longer the girl Jean longed for, all he wished for was a passing ghost that you have left behind in your adolescence.

You caressed his cheek for the last time and landed a kiss to his forehead, “Jean, I’m so proud of you. How far you have gone. I’m sorry I wouldn’t be the one you’d share your future achievement with, but for all the things you have done to me, for seeing the good in me when I could hardly see it… I want to say thank you,” you smiled although pain was searing within your chest, “there’s a world out there where this would work out. But not this world.”

The unexpected rendezvous you had with the man whom you had given your first love to ended with both of you crying at each other’s embrace, until Salerno’s closed and turned off their lights.

When Jean finally dropped you at your childhood home, the place he used to spend all the times in, Jean smiled and pointed at your room with the lights still lit, “He’s waiting?”

“I think he’s asleep. He’s a deep sleeper, he forgets to turn off the lights every time.”

“Does he even fit in your tiny bed?”

“Well, you did fit.”

“For a time.”

“Yeah, for a time.”

“So, you’ll be Mrs. Braun?”

“Yep, Mrs. Braun I will be.”

Jean scoffed, pretending to be annoyed, but smiling nonetheless, “Lucky bastard, that Mr. Braun.”

#jean x reader #jean kirstein #jean kirschstein #aot jean #snk jean #aot fluff #snk fluff #aot fanfiction #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #kojins twisted match-up

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planetesastraea · 4 years ago

Text

On the tip of his tongue

Read Part 1: On the Tip of his Fingers

Geraskier, Modern AU - Explicit - 10 179 words - Warnings: none

Character study, developing relationship, banter, feelings, Geralt vs words, bisexual!Geralt, bottom!Geralt, top!Jaskier, first time, handjobs, blowjobs, anal sex. Also contains pizza (mentioned)

Betaed by the wonderful @oxbridge-quality-fanfiction-co

Read on AO3

That morning Jaskier got woken up by a soft but firm hand on his shoulder and a husky voice saying his name.

“Hmmf?” was his very articulate reply, definitely worthy of the Creative Writing and Composition in Medieval Times professor he was. “Three words or less,” he would always say to motivate his students to answer questions during class and to start a conversation. Damn, they would have been proud.

“I gotta go,” the deep voice whispered and the previous evening suddenly came back to Jaskier. Geralt. Wow. Geralt . He sat up and blinked a few times before realising his eyes were open but the sun wasn’t up yet. Geralt was but a silhouette in the dark, his smell a mix of long-forgotten aftershave and well remembered sex.

“Mmokay,” Jaskier mumbled, rubbing one eye with his palm. “Thanks for telling me,” he said sleepily. There was a pause and he realised the sentence didn’t land well.

“Sorry. Didn’t want to sneak out,” Geralt replied tightly.

“Yeano, yeah- I meant it. Sorry. Me,” Jaskier said, pointing towards his own face in the dark, and thus proving the point to no one but himself, “not a morning person.”

Geralt snorted softly. Jaskier was overcome with a powerful wave of fondness and a guttural need to reach out and kiss him. Gods bless adorable bi himbos at law.

“I should get going,” Geralt said and Jaskier thought he heard some hesitation in his voice. The mattress dipped slightly as Geralt moved to stand up, and Jaskier reached out blindly. His hand found the inside of Geralt’s elbow and then slid down softly to the man’s wrist, finding his palm.

“Wait,” Jaskier said and Geralt waited. Then it dawned on him that he was supposed to say something . “Do you want to… see me again?” he offered, truly bringing his A-game as the (supposedly) most romantic man in the continent. (He was not boasting. It had simply been brought to his attention by many of his exes, and who was he to question the opinion of the people?) He tried not to sound too hopeful but it was too early in the morning and his acting skills needed a warm-up. After all, one couldn’t just naturally wake up that good.

The silence stretched in a way that made him uncomfortable, especially since Geralt was practically invisible in front of him. Geralt’s fingers brushed his and something in his chest relaxed, but only for a moment.

“I can’t,” Geralt started, making Jaskier’s heart drop, “make promises.”

And okay that wasn’t the worst he could have said but also - uh what ? “Okay? Well I- I’m not asking you to?”

“Hmm.”

“Geralt, I- I had a really nice time with you, you know? And I’d really like to have more… nice times with you. And not just sex, I mean, yes, sex was fantastic, it was , but also, well- what I mean is, I don’t expect you to like, abandon your life or whatever, I just-” he was running out of breath. “Gosh I’m talking too much again, fuck, please, say something? I’m getting zero feedback here and you have to know I’m gonna keep talking until you cut me off-”

“Sorry,” Geralt sighed, his fingers threading between Jaskier’s. “It’s just- This is… I haven’t been with someone in a while and,” he said with hesitation and left the sentence unfinished.

And never with a man , Jaskier thought, pretty sure of what was coming next. “Right,” he said, feeling his throat tighten. Not like he wasn’t used to falling for people who just didn’t have the same life plan- or day plan , even.

“But I think I would,” Geralt said, “like to see you again, I mean.”

“Wait, what?“ Jaskier’s brain derailed.

“I’d like to see you again?” Geralt repeated and it sounded even better the second time.

“Oh.”

"I… had a nice time, too.”

“Oh. Good,” Jaskier whispered, relief washing over him and unlocking the door to yearning. He moved forward, closer to Geralt, his hand sliding up to his shoulder, finding his cheek and feeling the beginning of a stubble under his fingers. “Good,” Jaskier murmured again. Feeling Geralt lean into him was the best reward. He moved his head closer and his nose rubbed softly against Geralt’s, the intimacy sweeter than some of the sex he’d had in the past.

Geralt inclined his head slightly and pressed a chaste, tender kiss against Jaskier’s lips.

Once they parted, phone numbers were exchanged and the soft wish of getting in touch soon was expressed - or, rather, as Jaskier put it as he walked Geralt to the door, “in touch and, well, in touch .” A freaking poet.

The morning after they “had a milkshake” - as Jaskier nicknamed their first close encounter - Geralt had gone home right before sunrise to find Eskel wide awake, sitting on the living room couch, a book on his lap. Eskel had looked at him, raised an eyebrow, and pressed his lips together to suppress a smile. “Coffee?” was all he had said and Geralt had been oh so grateful.

In the days that followed, he learned a bit more about Jaskier. He taught both poetry and musicology at university, gave private lessons, and performed with his band from time to time. Spring meant preparing finals, helping students to rehearse for auditions, and getting ready for the upcoming festivals The Bard would participate in. Between his schedule and Geralt’s, over a month had gone before they saw each other in the flesh again. But texting? Texting was definitely a Jaskier thing.

A couple of hours after Geralt had left, Jaskier had sent him a text saying “my bed misses you” . Geralt had promptly walked from one meeting to another, only realising at 6.30 pm during a phone call from Assengard, as he caught sight of the restaurant from across the street, that he had left Jaskier hanging. He tried to think of something clever on his way to pick Ciri up from her fencing class. To his surprise, his idea had worked very well on Jaskier.

Of course, as with most things concerning Jaskier, Geralt quickly discovered, it was prone to get out of hand. The man had decided that “the milkshake” would become “a thing”. The fact that Geralt’s favourite order at Denise’s included a vanilla milkshake with cream on top was apparently hilarious for reasons Geralt could not understand.

Since then, Geralt would receive texts from Jaskier every few days, ranging from “thinking of u” to “which one of these says ‘I am a 100%-responsible adult person who will turn your child into a virtuoso if you allow me to teach them?’” with a picture of two button-down shirts attached.

Geralt had left him on read , the bastard.

After the six most frustrating weeks of his life - yes, more frustrating than the whole summer he spent sharing a flat with a Spanish model who had very loud, very heterosexual sex on the other side of their paper-thin, shared bedroom wall - Jaskier finally got his hands back on his favourite lawyer’s ass.

They had agreed Geralt would meet him at his place that Friday after work. And so, Jaskier spent the afternoon trying to convince himself he could mark students’ essays, and was absolutely not in the hellish head-space where nervousness meets horniness. (He made it through five so he counted it as a win.)

He had changed outfits three times in two hours, and had promised Essi he absolutely was not falling for some seemingly perfect person who would then turn out to have a secret wife, three children and a dog (“Well since you’re asking, he has a very public ex-wife, one daughter, and a horse.” “A horse?” “Yup.” “What the hell?” “I have no fucking clue.”)

Jaskier was busy adjusting a sofa pillow to make it appear tidy-but-casual when the bell rang, making him jump out of his skin.

When he opened the door, Geralt looked like he was two seconds away from running back down the stairs and disappearing forever in some mysterious vineyard near Toussaint. Geralt, being the absolute asshole that he was, also looked like a fucking god amongst humans so Jaskier’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of him once again. He had almost forgotten how stunning the man was.

“Hi,” Geralt said.

Jaskier shook himself out of his dreamy smitten state and felt a tingle in his cheeks as he blushed. “Hey, come on in,” he said, waving the man inside.

Geralt had his hair tied in a casual bun and was wearing a black winter coat way above Jaskier’s pay grade. Gods, what a sight. Jaskier was fucked .

“Are you-”

“So how’s-”

They both started and stopped at the same time, which made Jaskier laugh and Geralt shake his head as he looked away, a side of his mouth rising into a smile. Boy, Jaskier thought, if Geralt was half as fond of him as he was of Geralt, they’d be married in three years, move to a farm in five, and adopt every stray dog in the area a year after that at the latest.

“Can I take your coat?” Jaskier offered.

As Geralt nodded, Jaskier got his hands on the lapels of Geralt’s coat, fingers absent-mindedly pressing against Geralt’s chest, feeling the soft wool, and the strong pecs underneath all the layers. A moment passed and he realised Geralt hadn’t moved an inch. He stopped staring at his own hand and, as he looked up, realised Geralt was looking at him. Or more like, looking at his mouth.

There was a beat and they both moved forward, catching each other’s lips.

“Fuck, is it ok to say I’ve missed you?” Jaskier breathed between two kisses.

“Hmm,” Geralt replied, pushing Jaskier against the door and leaving his lips to kiss and suck the skin of his neck.

“Ah, okay, I’ll take that as a yes,” he half-moaned and got Geralt’s mouth back against his, kissing like he just couldn’t get enough- because he couldn’t. Geralt got rid of his coat, letting it fall onto the floor.

“M-maybe we should take a second to hang it. It looks expensive.”

“It’s a gift from my ex,” Geralt mumbled against Jaskier’s skin, biting tentatively at his Adam’s apple.

“Or we could stomp all over it,” Jaskier deadpanned. Geralt laughed against his throat and Jaskier felt it resonate through his chest.

“So you’re the possessive kind, then?”

“Uh,” Jaskier bit his lip, “only if that turns you on.”

Geralt kissed a line up to Jaskier’s ear and caressed him through his trousers as he nibbled at his earlobe. In the softest, most quiet whisper, he murmured: “It does.”

Jaskier groaned with pleasure and Geralt kissed him in earnest, his hand still fondling the man’s inseam. He pressed his pelvis against Jaskier’s and both moaned from the supplementary friction.

“Let me try something?” Geralt asked against Jaskier’s lips before promptly getting down onto his knees.

“Oh, wow, okay,” Jaskier gasped as Geralt went straight for his belt. “Ah- w-wait, you- you sure?”

Geralt rolled his eyes, undoing the man’s button and zipper until Jaskier’s hands came to rest softly over his.

“No, I’m serious, you don’t have to.”

"I know,” Geralt answered, looking up at him. “I want to.”

“Okay. Okay. Just stop if it’s not good with you, right?”

“Right.”

He pulled Jaskier’s trousers down, not wasting any time. The curved line of his hardening cock was obvious under his underwear and Geralt slowed down, caressing the back of Jaskier’s thigh with one hand, the other moving up to his crotch. He palmed Jaskier through his boxer briefs (his navy blue boxer briefs) and was delighted to see him try to control his breathing through the surging wave of desire.

“Take them off for me?” Geralt asked, his voice rough with arousal.

Jaskier breathed out shakingly and slid his thumbs under the waistband, pulling his underwear down under Geralt’s relentless attention. Unable to stop himself, Jaskier took his own cock in hand and stroked himself, humming with pleasure with the first movement of his wrist. Geralt was sitting on his ankles, mesmerised.

“You like watching?” Jaskier asked, and even though the answer was pretty obvious, Geralt didn’t say it out loud. He raised to his knees, kissing the inside of Jaskier’s thighs, every breath softly tickling Jaskier’s skin, the hand maintaining its rhythm.

Moving upwards, Geralt’s tongue darted out to lick Jaskier’s balls, surprising him so much the back of his head hit the door, generating a moan which turned into a wince and then back into a moan again. Geralt’s smile shaped the kiss he pressed on Jaskier’s thigh as his fingers brushed through the man’s pubic hair, and slid up to find Jaskier’s hand, slowing it down.

Jaskier felt Geralt’s hot breath coming closer to his cock and had to bite his lower lip when the other man’s lips brushed against his fingers, kissing them one by one, silently asking him to let go. Jaskier didn’t need much convincing until, of course, fuck his goddamn unstoppable brain, a thought occurred to him.

“Wait!” he exclaimed and, at least, was blessed with the sight of Geralt looking up at him with surprise, his lips apart, tongue visible, and… Fuck, he looked so innocent and yet devilishly hot like this.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing! Just- safety, right? You can, uh, get STIs. From, you know, sucking off someone unprotected. So you should be safe, you know.”

“Uh,” Geralt frowned. “Do you have STIs I should worry about?”

“No, I’m clean. I just mean, you know, in general.”

“I don’t need sex ed, Jaskier.”

“I know,“ he said, unconvincingly. "I’m just saying. Cause, like, it matters, and, you… well, you know.”

“I know,” he nodded even though he didn’t really. “Anything else?” he asked, raising an eyebrow teasingly.

“Well, you shouldn’t take my word for it.”

“What?” Well, he only had himself to blame, right? He did ask.

“That I’m clean. I mean you can’t take people’s word for it, sometimes people just-”

“ Jaskier. I’ve slept with strangers before,” Geralt said bluntly, missing the brief pained look on Jaskier’s face at being classified as a stranger . “You’re clean. I’m clean. If you’re fine with this, I’m fine with this.”

“Yes. Yeah, I am. I am. Sorry,” Jaskier shook his head. “Did I just ruin it? It’s just, it matters you know, so I figured-”

“Jask. I get it. It’s fine,” Geralt said, rubbing his thumbs on each of Jaskier’s hip bones. “Can I suck your cock, now?” he asked softly. Jaskier’s worries disappeared from his mind instantly, and he nodded enthusiastically about twelve times above the consent limit.

Geralt took him into his hand and stroked him, slowly but firmly, further limiting his brain’s already diminished access to oxygen. Geralt’s other hand had reached out to fondle his ass and his fingers began to lightly drum along the back of Jaskier’s thigh, brushing softly, ghosting against his skin, and sending a brand new kind of sparks of want to Jaskier’s cock.

After a few strokes, Geralt brought his lips to the base of Jaskier’s shaft, kissing the hairs in a way one could have described as chaste if it hadn’t been happening so close to another man’s dick. He then proceeded to drop fuller kisses on the soft skin of Jaskier’s cock, pressing his lips against the skin almost reverently as his hand kept working Jaskier. When he was satisfied with the soft noises and the sound of fast breathing above him, he guided his hand back to the base of Jaskier’s cock, pumping a few times before guiding the tip of Jaskier’s dick to his mouth as he licked .

“Fffuck-” Jaskier gasped, and Geralt smiled.

Wetting his lips, he opened his mouth and wrapped it around the very tip of Jaskier’s cock, kissing it wetly, his tongue running against the underside. He let go, only to kiss the side of the head with an open mouth and then took Jaskier’s cock again.

As soon as he had run into Geralt at the bar, Jaskier had been both mindlessly infatuated and completely unsure what to expect. Geralt’s enthusiasm for learning to give head was definitely one of the things he didn’t see coming.

Geralt’s hand fondled his butt cheek again. As he pressed the tip of his fingers lightly against his sacrum, Jaskier sighed and angled his pelvis forward the way Geralt’s hand invited him to. Geralt took a slow breath through his nose, obviously trying to relax as much as he could as he moved forward, taking in a little more of Jaskier in his mouth and sliding his lips over the ring of Jaskier’s cock.

“Oh,” escaped from Jaskier’s lips as Geralt drew back slightly and took more of him again. “Oh darling, oh, yes, that’s good,” he stammered, caressing Geralt’s cheek before drawing back and slapping his hand against the door to ground himself and to restrain from grabbing the back of Geralt’s neck.

Geralt groaned softly at the loss, reaching out for Jaskier’s hand, closing his eyes as soon as he felt Jaskier’s touch again. He moaned as he kept sucking him slowly, clearly enjoying the guiding hand on his cheek.

“Oh, darling,” Jaskier moaned. His thumb rubbed softly against Geralt’s stubbly cheekbone before his hand slid against his cheek and jaw encouragingly. “Oh, that’s good, yeah that’s- Keep going, love,” he whispered again.

Biting his lower lip, Jaskier kept caressing Geralt’s cheek, whispering sweet nothings and sliding his fingers through the other man’s hair, convinced Geralt would have purred around his cock if he could.

"That’s really good, sweetheart,” and as Geralt enthusiastically took him a tad deeper, he just couldn’t help himself. “Oh, that’s my good boy ,” he moaned and Geralt all but choked on his dick.

Pulling back and resting a hand against the floor, half-slipping on his discarded coat, Geralt coughed and tried to get his breath back from choking on his own spit.

“Oh, fuck, I’m sorry-” Jaskier kneeled by him hastily - and heavily . Having his jeans pooled around his knees wasn’t exactly helping him be graceful. “You alright?”

“Fine,” Geralt rasped, a bright shade of pink all over his face. He coughed again.

“Do you need a drink or something?”

Geralt laughed brokenly through a cough. “To help me forget I could have bitten your dick off?” he asked and Jaskier huffed.

“Don’t be silly,” he smiled, brushing away the hair across Geralt’s face as he leaned to kiss him. “This cock has seen worse.”

“That’s always comforting,” Geralt mumbled against his lips.

Jaskier laughed and caught his lips into another kiss, enjoying the way Geralt sighed comfortably, and held on to the back of his neck. His hand wandered to find the hem of Geralt’s shirt and slipped under his waistband before he arrived at a bright idea. “What if - and I know it’s going to be a very bold, and novel concept, but hear me out - what if we stopped using my front door and living room floor as acceptable fucking surfaces and straight out moved to the bed?”

“Hmm,” Geralt mused falsely. “Didn’t know there was anything straight about you,” he snarked and was met with a playful slap on the breast accompanied by Jaskier’s cackling laughter.

“Oh, look who’s talking now!”

They fumbled to get Jaskier back on his feet - “well I do love to spend time on my knees” - and got rid of the jeans which were annoyingly getting in their way, to then move on to the bedroom.

His bedroom, Jaskier decided, was absolutely ruined . Nothing would ever look better than Geralt sprawled on his bed, naked, his hard cock pressed against his lower belly. If Geralt ever decided to break things off with him - a thought which, despite people often calling him dramatic, he knew was perfectly realistic - Jaskier would have to change the room entirely. He would repaint the walls, get new furniture, burn the bed, maybe, or - to simplify - move places. No, there was no way a single soul could ever sleep on sheets which had touched Geralt’s skin without missing his presence like any respectable bard would miss their medieval lute.

At that moment, however, this bard was straddling Geralt’s lap, his arms around Geralt’s neck, while being held around his middle and kissed languorously. They were both naked, every inch of skin yearning to feel the other, and not a single thing was amiss.

“Would you like to touch yourself for me, darling?” Jaskier asked between two kisses, his voice low and syrupy.

A groan came from the bottom of Geralt’s throat and vibrated against Jaskier’s tongue.

“Fuck, I love the noises you make,” he whispered against Geralt’s lips, catching the man’s tongue in another open-mouth kiss.

Geralt started stroking his own cock and howled, and Jaskier broke the kiss unintentionally, unable to stop smiling at the sheer bestiality of the man.

Jaskier smacked his lips against Geralt’s a few more times as Geralt chased his mouth for more. Curving his hand around Geralt’s cheek, he kissed him one more time before slipping his thumb on his lips. He didn’t expect Geralt to kiss his finger, chastely, then lick its tip and lustfully take it in his mouth. Jaskier didn’t sigh as much as he whined .

“Would you prepare yourself for me?” Jaskier asked, making his intentions clearer, his voice a bit hesitant but hopeful.

Geralt let go of his thumb, letting Jaskier caress his lips lovingly. “Maybe it’s better if you do it,” he said, kissing the inside of Jaskier’s palm in an obvious attempt to hide his face.

“Is it?” Jaskier asked, and Geralt closed his eyes, something like regret written on his face.

“I’m not very good at it,” he grimaced.

“You’ve done it before?”

Geralt hummed, uncomfortable. “Since last time,” he clarified. “It didn’t really- I don’t know, maybe it’s not my thing,” he shrugged, still avoiding Jaskier’s eyes.

“Hey,” Jaskier whispered, his voice coated with kindness, unable to stop himself as he tipped Geralt’s chin up and pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of his lips. “You can’t become a virtuoso on the first try,” he said.

Geralt frowned but then hid his discomfort behind a playful look. “Are you saying my ass is a musical instrument-”

“Shush, you!” Jaskier giggled. “I’m trying to be serious, for once!” he chastised him.

Geralt snickered and hid his face back into Jaskier’s hand, softly kissing his wrist.

“Maybe you had one of the best orgasms of your life the first time you rubbed one out but we , regular human beings, had to work for it,” he paused for more dramatic flair. “L ong and hard and again and again …” he wiggled his eyebrows and Geralt snorted. “We learn what feels good and what doesn’t. Just because you’re ol-” Geralt gave him a pointed look “ -der doesn’t mean you don’t need to get to know yourself.”

“Nice save,” Geralt deadpanned.

“I know, right? Almost seamless,” Jaskier smiled back, clearly full of shit, and went in for a kiss.

“Hmm,” Geralt sighed. “I think I’d rather-” he hesitated, “get on with it, you know.”

“Get on with it?” It was Jaskier’s turn to raise an unconvinced eyebrow.

“Yeah, just get it done.”

“My, what a romantic you are,” Jaskier snickered and Geralt rolled his eyes, trying to make amends by rubbing Jaskier’s skin with his thumb where his hand rested on his hip.

“You just said it, first times suck. I just gotta- get through it and then, well. Hopefully, we get to the good stuff.”

“G- get through it ? You know this isn’t CrossFit, right?”

Geralt snorted. “You know what I mean,” Geralt said, then bit his lip as he frowned, pressing his forehead against Jaskier’s. “You know I’m not-,” he waved his hand, “good at this.”

“Words?”

He puffed. “Yeah, words.”

“Yeah, I got that. I hear you.” Jaskier smoothly brushed a strand of hair back behind Geralt’s ear. “There’s something else I heard. ‘First times suck’ ? Well challenge accepted, my dear,” he said and Geralt laughed as he kissed him again.

Geralt let himself be slowly pushed down to the bed as they kissed, his hands moving up Jaskier’s back, feeling the muscles along the way. His hand reached the back of Jaskier’s neck, covering it for a moment before he buried his fingers into the man’s hair as they softly ground against each other.

Jaskier slid his hand between them, giving both of their cocks a pull before moving lower. “Raise your legs for me, darling?” he asked in low tones, sliding his hands under Geralt’s knees. He could feel Geralt slightly tensing up as he set his feet to the mattress. It didn’t feel like it had anything to do with the scar Jaskier had brushed with his fingertips.

“Shouldn’t I be on my hands and knees?” he asked in a breath while Jaskier’s hands found their way back to his chest.

“You could,” he kissed a spot on his jaw, caressing Geralt’s pectoral. “You don’t have to.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier?” his voice was fairly tight and Jaskier faintly wondered if it was any clue to the state of his ass- and then kept the thought very much to his stupid dick-jokes self.

“Nah, not necessarily,” he whispered, trying to make his hands into a calming, solid presence against Geralt’s skin, caressing his breasts, his ribs, his clavicles, lining his scars with the care they deserved. Whichever God carved this man’s body, Jaskier swore to worship them until the end of his days.

“It can be straining to hold that position. Also…” Jaskier raised himself to face Geralt, picking up the man’s hand as it slipped over his shoulder and kissed the root of each finger. “We don’t have to do this if you’re not comfortable with it,” he said. “We don’t have to do it today.” He weaved his fingers between Geralt’s and kissed their tips. “And we don’t have to do it ever.”

Geralt’s face became closed off as he took a slow breath in, bolting up the gates before Jaskier had a chance to read him. He raised to meet Jaskier, his hand finding the perfect place at the back of his neck, and kissed him earnestly.

“I want you to fuck me,” he said against his lips.

“Yeah?” Jaskier gasped. “Got you, loud and clear,” Jaskier whispered and leaned into another kiss.

He broke away from Geralt to reach his nightstand drawer, pulling out some lube and condoms. He grabbed a pillow, invited Geralt to raise his hips and slid it underneath.

“Now, where was I?” he said under his breath, settling between Geralt’s legs and rubbing their bodies against each other. Geralt moaned and wrapped a leg around Jaskier’s pelvis, grinding back eagerly.

Holding his thigh with one hand, Jaskier began kissing his neck, licking and biting the skin at his throat, intending to take care of every inch of Geralt’s body. He licked one of Geralt’s nipples, extracting a moan from Geralt when he sucked and scraped his teeth against the strong muscle of his tit. Feeling Geralt slowly relax under his hands, he headed lower, kissing the pale hairy line that led from his navel to his cock.

He squeezed Geralt’s cock gently, carefully caressing the tip with his thumb and watching the precome spread, shiny against the soft skin. He looked up at Geralt as he moved his hand steadily up and down, a spark of ecstasy jumping from his heart to his cock at the sight of Geralt, eyes closed, biting his lower lip. Every moment assured Jaskier that pleasuring this man was actually his entire life’s purpose.

Geralt hummed with pleasure as Jaskier wrapped his lips around his cock, already struggling not to buck his hips when Jaskier took more of him in his mouth.

Jaskier couldn’t help but hum around his dick as he took it in, playing with depth and rhythm like a true maestro, his fingers threading through the light grey curls of Geralt’s pubes. He then let go of Geralt’s cock with an obscene pop that made him laugh and licked up from the spot right above Geralt’s balls.

Geralt’s hips stirred in both pleasure and surprise.

Jaskier got his hands back on the lube as he kissed and licked the man’s balls, encouraged by the whines and groans that escaped Geralt’s throat. He warmed his lubed fingers against each other and caressed Geralt’s ass with what he wouldn’t deny was absolute adoration. “Can I touch you, darling?” he asked, his voice a bit rough.

Geralt breathed a “yeah” and sounded almost like he was begging but Jaskier gracefully didn’t comment on it. (He, however, definitely took note.) Instead, he slid a hand between Geralt’s cheeks and brushed a finger against his hole as his mouth drove back down Geralt’s beautifully thick cock.

Jaskier teased a little, trying out different pressures against the man’s hole before the song of Geralt’s moans left no room for doubt. He slid his forefinger in while his other hand caressed Geralt’s inner thigh and finally felt the heat of Geralt’s body wrapped around his finger. He pulled back slightly and pushed again, this time steadily driving his finger deeper, synching his hand with the movements of his neck.

Despite Geralt’s frequent struggles with words, his gasps and moans were graced with great clarity and proved sufficient to let Jaskier know he was right to keep going. As far as non-verbal cues go, he also quickly found delight in feeling the walls of Geralt’s ass tightening around him and the taste of more precome coating his tongue.

“ Ah , your mouth,” Geralt moaned, reaching out and grasping onto Jaskier’s hair.

Jaskier closed his eyes and moaned, aching for better friction than the bit of sheet he could rub his cock against. Grabbing the lube with one hand, he couldn’t help but jerk himself a couple of times as Geralt’s hand kept pulling his hair with each bop of his head.

Pointedly slowing down and looking up, he waited for Geralt’s attention to focus on him. He made a point of keeping their eyes locked as he shamelessly pulled up and let go of his cock. “D’you want another finger, honey?” he asked, perfectly aware of how depraved he had to look with his hair astray and his lips as probably as crimson as the tip of Geralt’s cock.

Geralt pulled him closer and met him with a crushing kiss as he nodded and moaned against Jaskier’s brow. “Hm- wait,” he breathed, holding Jaskier back as he started to let go, “I haven’t touched you at all,” he complained, his hands cupping Jaskier’s ass in a kind but firm grasp.

“Ah- It’s alright, love,” Jaskier said. “We’ve got time for that,” he smiled against Geralt’s lips but before he could leave again, Geralt grabbed his hand.

“I want you to feel as good as I do,” he breathed.

“Oh, trust me, darling, I’m feeling fantastic,” Jaskier grinned. They kissed one more time before Geralt let go of him and Jaskier drove his attention back to his lover’s lower body.

Geralt sighed as he settled his head back against his pillow, muttering something about how Jaskier was going to kill him.

Jaskier brought one hand at the base of Geralt’s cock, put his mouth back to work and fingered him a little while longer before adding another slick finger. Geralt whined and Jaskier reached out for his hand, threading their fingers together, hoping Geralt would know it was his way of checking in before Geralt sighed “ Yeah, s’good ,” in a tone that sounded pretty far gone.

He fucked Geralt with his fingers a few tentative times and curled them softly on the way out. In case he had any doubt his fingers were brushing against the right spot, Geralt’s hips jerked, driving his cock further down Jaskier’s throat.

“Ah, fuck ,” Geralt moaned. “Fuck, sorry,” slipped from his lips as if he was holding back so many more words.

Jaskier squeezed his hand in reassurance and kept sucking on Geralt’s dick until he could feel him tremble. He rubbed against Geralt’s prostate, drinking in every noise leaving the man’s lips, every movement revealing his pleasure.

“Ah, Jask,” Geralt moaned again, clutching to Jaskier’s hand like nothing would ever be able to make him let go. “Jas- Jaskier, ah , Jask, wait, I’m gonna-”

His hips buckled and his back raised from the mattress as he came, mouth open, gasping. He moaned and groaned as Jaskier kept fucking him onto his fingers until he was done spilling.

Jaskier slid his fingers out of Geralt’s ass, unable not to pull on his own cock even as he wiped off his mouth and tried to catch his breath, resting his forehead against the soft flesh of Geralt’s hip.

“Fuck,” Geralt whispered as he stretched, the last tingles of pleasure leaving his body. He brought his hands to his face, covering his blush and groaned “ fuck ” in a wholly different tone.

“Hey,” Jaskier gasped, slowing down the movements of his wrist and bringing his other hand to touch Geralt’s arm. “Hey, you alright?”

“Hmm,” he groaned from under his hands.

“What’s wrong, darling?” he asked and Geralt huffed.

“I just came like a teenager, darling ,” Geralt mumbled, the edge of his sarcasm largely smoothed out by post-coital bliss.

Jaskier chuckled. “No, you didn’t. You held up really well,” he said, caressing Geralt’s forearm. “My charms were simply too mighty for you to keep it in any longer,” he whispered, and kissed his other wrist and hand, hoping Geralt would emerge from his hiding place.

Geralt groaned again, unconvinced, but let his hand slip away when Jaskier kissed his knuckles, allowing the other man to paint his cheek with the sweet brush of his lips.

“I wanted you,” Geralt whispered, in a weak, almost plaintive way.

“I’m still right here, love,” Jaskier whispered back. “You still have me,” he said at the corner of Geralt’s lips, pressing his mouth softly against his. He found Geralt pressing back with the same tenderness then savouring the taste his own come on Jaskier’s tongue.

They stayed like this for a moment, simply enjoying the warmth of each other’s arms, slowly kissing and holding each other.

“Do you need me?” Geralt asked after Jaskier buckled against his hips involuntarily.

“If your schedule allows it,” Jaskier joked, hiding his face in his neck and humming as he rubbed himself against Geralt.

“What do you want?” Geralt asked, caressing the length of Jaskier’s back, pressing his fingers along the muscles, waking up every fibre of Jaskier’s body.

“This,” Jaskier murmured, “This is perfect.”

He rubbed himself slowly against Geralt as the man covered him in caresses, the callousness of Geralt’s hands contrasting with the softness of his gestures. He ground against Geralt’s hip lazily, welcoming the pressure of Geralt’s hands on his ass, feeling the imprint of each finger into his flesh. His cock was still smeared with lube and the mess he’d spit onto Geralt��s pelvis made for a dirty, wonderful help.

“You look so good like this,” Geralt whispered, kissing a spot under his ear. “You feel so good against me,” he said softly, his tenderness almost making Jaskier come on the spot.

“ Ah , please, touch me,” he begged and Geralt reached for his cock like a servant knight, enthusiastically escorting him to rapture as Jaskier fucked into his hand again and again and again , his shout resonating through the bedroom as he came.

Geralt held him as Jaskier made his way back down, their bodies sweaty and well spent, comfortably intertwined.

After a while during which Jaskier’s mind drifted and fluttered between sleep and consciousness, he adjusted his body to kiss the side of Geralt’s jaw.

“Care to be introduced to my shower?” he asked sleepily.

“Hmm. Good call,” Geralt nodded, and pressed a kiss against his temple.

When Geralt walked out of the shower, freshly cleaned up and smelling like Jaskier’s lemon soap, his clothes were neatly arranged on the bed. He got dressed and followed the sound of Jaskier’s humming, finding him in the kitchen frowning at some delivery menus. He was biting his lip, seeming pretty conflicted and Geralt surprised himself thinking: shit, he’s cute.

He kept expecting to have a change of heart any minute now. It was, after all, bound to happen, the next logical step, the most probable outcome: one morning he would wake up and realise that surely this had all been fun but he wasn’t into it anymore. He just had gotten a bit confused and wasn’t actually feeling so much for this man- or any other man, or any other person for that matter.

After splitting up with Yen, he thought he’d never grow fond of someone enough to want anything (at least anything more than sex, but even sex was quite low on his list of priorities). With Jaskier, though- it was like every other day, Geralt would find another thing he’d like to share with the handsome man who had run into him and insisted on sticking around.

“Hey,” Jaskier said, noticing him in the doorway. “So I was thinking, either Casa Lauretta or Athumani’s Kitchen , what do you think? And before you say anything- I know , take out again, but I can’t both try to seduce you and subject you to my cooking.”

Geralt snorted. “You’ve had me in your bed already. Twice. ” he said, raising a playful eyebrow. “At what point will you consider me successfully seduced?”

“Uh, I don’t know, some time between the third dog and the second honeymoon, I guess?” Jaskier pretended to ponder.

Geralt blinked at him and his smile froze on his face. He often struggled with words to begin with but Jaskier mastered the art of leaving him speechless. Banter was his realm. Jaskier knew the terrain by heart and he revelled in it. He was light on his feet and quick on his toes. Every time Geralt tried to play his game and stepped towards Jaskier, the distance separating them seemed to grow.

He felt like a novice trying to catch up with a man who had hiked the trail his whole life, knew its twists and turns by heart. No matter how much he tried to relax and enjoy the sights by Jaskier’s side, he still felt the man would always be ahead of him. Like he would never be able to catch up and stay stuck in the land of the new and uncomfortable.

He cleared his throat. “What’s in these cupboards of yours?“ he asked, brushing past Jaskier to open a few of them. At first, the answer seemed to be both everything and not much at all . But after initial confusion, he realised Jaskier might actually have a system.

Items weren’t sorted by kind but rather by what goes well together: canned mushrooms next to rice, coconut milk next to curry powder, sliced bread between jam and mustard. He wasn’t sure why "365 Lesser-known Eastern Medieval Poems” was stacked with cereals, or why Jaskier’s watch was in a bowl, but he could find out with time.

Something tickled the back of his neck and he realised Jaskier was playing with his hair, a bit of a smitten look on his face. As Geralt looked at him, Jaskier froze and blushed.

“Sorry,” he said, retreating his hand. “I love your hair,” he said sheepishly.

“I lost my hairband somewhere,” Geralt said, looking around.

“It looks good like this too,” Jaskier said. “Pretty sure it looks good all the time,” he smiled and brushed an escapee strand of hair back behind Geralt’s ear.

And here it was: another immensely confusing thing about Jaskier. The man radiated self-confidence 99% of the time. He could bathe in the attention of a crowd, flirt shamelessly with a complete stranger and whisper the filthiest words, dirtiest things- he could fantasize out loud about getting married to a man he’d only known for a few weeks. Yet there was also a shyness about the smallest of things, a vulnerability . It made Geralt want to pick him up and take him to safety- and he was perfectly aware of how ridiculous that sounded. But it felt like maybe, Jaskier’s hidden, more reserved side was a path where they could meet halfway.

He leaned towards him and kissed the corner of Jaskier’s mouth. “Thank you,” he said.

Jaskier smiled and his whole face illuminated. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Good,” Geralt nodded, taking his attention back to the cupboard. And so here he was again, taking a step back on what had started to feel like a comfortable route and stiffly navigating in between the metaphorical potholes on the road leading to Jaskier. As it turned out, talking about how his ass felt after getting fingered was not Geralt’s forte either. But Jaskier - in a moment of extreme humility - had described himself as a master of words and rhythm and that’s exactly what he was. He could use any word, touch upon any topic, express any emotion. Jaskier had a whole planisphere at his disposal, a means to take any road; Geralt had shitty directions and a compass that only told North once in a blue moon.

“No pain?”

“No,” he answered, closed the cupboard and exited Jaskier’s personal space to grab the menus. “Maybe delivery’s better, you’re right,” he said.

“Hmm,” Jaskier answered. “You do that a lot,” he pointed out.

Geralt gave him a look above his shoulder. “What?”

“Changing topics. Avoiding conversations,” Jaskier explained lightly. His tone was not judgemental. He was merely making an observation.

And so, “I’m not,” Geralt lied. He only realised he had lied the second he heard himself. Fuck . “I didn’t realise there was more to say.” Less of a lie. Not quite a half-truth.

Jaskier sighed softly and settled next to Geralt, pressing his forearms against the kitchen counter. "Margherita, then?” he asked. Geralt could see the tight shape of his lips and the square angle of his shoulders. Jaskier had obviously seen right through him but was dropping the subject for his sake.

“You’re disappointed,” he said and Jaskier’s head shot back up to look at him.

“With the pizza options?” Jaskier joked weakly.

“With,” he hesitated. “Me.”

“No-” Jaskier argued right away, raising his hand to cut him off. But Geralt knew how it was, what people expected, not unfairly, versus how little he could offer.

“It’s fine,” Geralt said. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I-,” he paused to weigh his words carefully, eyes focused on the menus. "I’m not very good at-” he hesitated then snorted under Jaskier’s confused look. “ Opening up ?” he said, raising an eyebrow in Jaskier’s direction.

Jaskier laughed and reached out to rest his hand over Geralt’s. “Well, we’ve talked about this,” he said, with a shine in his eyes. “Practice makes better.” Geralt hummed, looking at Jaskier’s hand over his. To his surprise, Jaskier retracted his hand somewhat suddenly and he missed the weight of it right away. “And it’s not like we know each other that well, as you said,” he shrugged, at the edge of Geralt’s field of vision.

“I am ok,” he said, answering Jaskier’s previous question more honestly. “Bit weird but ok.” His brain then caught up with Jaskier’s words a moment too late; as you said ?

"Okay,” Jaskier said, offering a shy smile. “I- it’s okay if it doesn’t come naturally to you. I just- well, I’d just like you to be more comfortable with me. But we’ll get there, right?”

Geralt swallowed, closing and opening the hand that was resting on the counter to get rid of a slight tremor. Saying yes would have been another lie. He couldn’t make that promise. He had tried before, thought that maybe if he forced himself to be enough then things would work out eventually- but they hadn’t.

And so it would have been easy to say no , to back off entirely. He could tell Jaskier he wasn’t interested in building something, just wanted an easy fuck, to experiment a bit, and had simply gotten lucky enough to find a guy who wasn’t repelled by his shitty personality and off-putting scars. It would have been so easy- to tell Jaskier, “I don’t know what you thought you were getting out of this, but you won’t get me .” It was complete and absolute bullshit, a sad pack of lies, but it would be so much easier. He could get back to his life, his job, his kid and the handful of friends he still had, and never think about blue eyes or milkshakes again.

If only the thought didn’t make him nauseous.

Fuck, he wanted this.

“This isn’t casual for you, is it?” he asked, voice tight, and Jaskier startled, almost taking a step back. His face made an odd succession of expressions and he opened his mouth a couple of times before closing it again.

“I- I can be casual. I can be very casual. That’s not a problem, that’s not a- but I-,” he sighed and brushed his hand through his hair nervously. “Fuck, you really don’t fuck around, do you?” Geralt tried to come up with something to say but Jaskier shook his head, his voice way calmer now even if a bit wavering. “No. No, I don’t think I want to be casual with you. And- And you- you don’t w-”

“Me neither,” Geralt cut in before panic took over Jaskier.

The man’s eyes grew a little wider. “You neither?” he asked, and fuck if that wasn’t the most obvious display of naked hope Geralt had ever seen on anybody’s face.

Geralt shook his head and Jaskier seemingly had to fight a full-body shiver.

Jaskier walked the two steps separating them and kissed Geralt with his entire soul. When he pulled back, Geralt leaned into him again for another taste of his tongue. He brought a hand to Jaskier’s cheek and kissed him with feeling. When they parted, he kept his eyes closed, pressing his forehead to Jaskier’s, the tip of his fingers grazing the short hair behind his ear.

“I’m not used to wanting…” Geralt said. “Sex is good. But usually I don’t- I don’t want more. With you, I- I don’t want to ru- to leave . And it’s…”

“Weird, isn’t it?” Jaskier offered, his voice tight but tone playful. The shy smile on his lips was a delicious cherry on top, making the teasing even softer. (Little did Jaskier know that a cherry was the only thing in Geralt’s opinion that could ever improve a creamy vanilla milkshake.)

“Yeah, it’s weird,” Geralt huffed. Jaskier kissed him, and after working through so many words, Geralt ran out of things to say. “So, yeah. Margherita’s good,” he whispered, and it was his turn to make Jaskier laugh. The man cleared his throat and sighed like a weight had been taken off his chest.

“I can’t believe you said all that before even knowing Lauretta delivers vanilla milkshakes,” he said and Geralt poked him in the ribs until they half-wrestled, laughing, Jaskier’s back hitting the fridge- and they were kissing again.

They talked over dinner for a while. Jaskier came up with questions for Geralt to answer, helping him ease into a casual conversation. They teased and flirted and laughed, and soon ended up in bed again, tasting each other’s skin and leaning into each other’s curves.

“Full disclosure?” Jaskier whispered against Geralt’s mouth as he was straddling him. “I really fucking love those tits of yours,” he said, cupping Geralt’s chest with his two hands. Geralt scoffed in between two kisses.

“They’re called pecs,” he said, enjoying the way Jaskier’s hands were basically venerating his chest.

“Nuh-uh,” Jaskier replied, “I, good sir, am an artist, not an anatomist, and these are definitely some of the most magnificent boobies I have ever had the chance to see, touch and lick,” he said, brushing a nipple with his thumb while kissing Geralt’s jaw.

Geralt snorted and kept caressing Jaskier’s incredibly precious ass.

Jaskier sighed with contentment. “So, tell me your secret,” he mumbled against Geralt’s skin, finding a tendon in Geralt’s neck and following it with his lips, tongue and teeth. “How does a corporate lawyer get as buff as you?”

Geralt’s laugh was more of a scoff as he felt the more-or-less accidental brush of Jaskier’s cock against his.

“You’re one to talk,” he groaned, getting his hand into Jaskier’s hair and pulling him into a kiss. “Have you seen yourself, Professor?”

Jaskier suddenly pulled back, eyes wide and cheeks pink. “I- well- I mean I’m nothing close to- Your body is,” he huffed, seemingly at loss for words which was a very odd thing coming from Jaskier.

“Jaskier,” Geralt said, bringing his hand to the small of the man’s back, and squinted. “You know you’re hot, right?” he asked seriously and witnessed Jaskier dissolve into a fit of giggles, ducking his head and blushing even harder.

“I’m- nah, I’m not-”

“ Jaskier ,” Geralt repeated with intent.

“I mean, I’m fine but I’m not- you’re like a, a- an underwear supermodel.”

Geralt snorted. “Right, they do love bodies covered with scar tissue in underwear magazines,” he said self-deprecatingly, making Jaskier frown.

“Don’t do that. You’re beautiful,” he chastised.

“If you say so-” Geralt shrugged.

“I do say so. Les Dessous de Beauclair can go fuck itself,” Jaskier replied and Geralt snorted again.

“Point still stands,” Geralt said. “You’re hot.”

Jaskier looked away again, biting his lower lip. “Wh-,” he started and then closed his mouth right away.

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” he shook his head.

“Jaskier? I’m the one who isn’t much of a talker. There can’t be two of us,” he said, and Jaskier laughed, then hid his face in the crook of Geralt’s neck, wrapping his arms around Geralt’s shoulders.

“What do you like about me?” he asked, his voice so small Geralt barely heard him. He let a moment pass, wondering where to start and how. He slid a hand at the back of Jaskier’s neck, caressing the short strands of hair.

“This,” he said. “Your hair right here. It’s short but long enough that I can grab it,” he felt Jaskier smile against his neck.

” Kinky ,“ Jaskier whispered.

“And I like your eyes,” Geralt said, too focused on picking the right words to get sidetracked. “At the bar, I-” he hesitated, pacing himself. “I noticed your eyes first,” he said and swallowed.

Jaskier hugged him tighter. “I love your eyes too,” he mumbled into Geralt’s hair. "They’re incredible.”

Geralt managed to duck his head and press a soft kiss below Jaskier’s ear. “Your cheekbones,” he said, his mouth finding the sweet spot at the base of Jaskier’s neck. “Your shoulders,” he whispered, kissing Jaskier’s clavicle, loosening their embrace to keep going lower. “Your collarbones,” he nipped his teeth at the bone above Jaskier’s chest, “they’re really, really hot,” he said and Jaskier giggled, still hiding his face by pressing his forehead against Geralt’s temple.

Geralt brought his hands up Jaskier’s back and felt him shiver, Jaskier’s hips startling gently against his, bringing a soft moan from the both of them. “Your back,” he said, “I really love your back- and your ass, gods ,” he linked his hands behind Jaskier’s neck and rolled his hips, their moans echoing through the room. “ Ah , and those fucking arms of yours,” Geralt whispered. “Have you seen those arms?” he repeated, still softly rubbing their cocks together with slow movements of his hips and caressing Jaskier’s arm. “I’m sure you could lift me up with those arms,” he said and Jaskier groaned. “Would you like that?” he asked. “Would you- would you like to hold me up and fuck me?”

“Oh, fuck,” Jaskier moaned, his face pressed against Geralt’s cheek. “Fuck, fuck, yes, yes please, yes,” he begged, and Geralt grabbed the hair at the back of his neck and pulled just enough for Jaskier to whine with pleasure as they both rushed in an almost bruising kiss.

Jaskier had a hard time pulling away from Geralt, but finally managed to turn towards the bedside table to retrieve lube and condoms.

Geralt flushed himself against his back, tearing a moan from Jaskier as his hand directly went for Jaskier’s cock and Geralt’s dick rubbed against his ass.

“Oh fuck, yeah- yeah , we gotta do this some time too, darling,” he panted and Geralt groaned, grinding against him.

“You would like that?” he breathed, his voice low and coated with desire.

“Gods, I’d fuck you anyway you want, darling-” he moaned, “-but fffuck , if you keep going, there isn’t going to be much left of me.”

Geralt chuckled against him. He pulled back, freeing Jaskier from his embrace and sitting back against the wall.

Jaskier kneeled in between his legs and tore the package open, sliding the condom on his cock, realising after raising his eyes that he was under Geralt’s scrutiny.

“You okay?” he asked at the exact moment Geralt breathed “Come here.”

Somehow they crashed into each other, and yet fit each other’s shapes perfectly.

Geralt raised on his knees, thighs parted, Jaskier’s hands moving from his cock to his balls, making his hips jerk and his teeth close on Jaskier’s lower lip as he moaned. Jaskier slid his fingers further, caressing the sweet spot of Geralt’s perineum, making Geralt break the kiss as he gasped.

“Fuck, please, Jask-”

“I’ve got you,” Jaskier murmured, kissing him again and coating his fingers with lube.

Geralt tried his hardest not to jerk himself off here and now, attempting to focus on rubbing Jaskier’s cock while his other arm rested around the man’s neck.

Jaskier teased the rim of his asshole and got a quick return on his investment as Geralt pulled a little harder on his dick, tearing a moan from his lips. He chuckled a bit breathlessly and slid a finger inside Geralt easily. It didn’t take long at all before a second finger joined the first.

“You okay, darling?” Jaskier breathed and Geralt nodded against his cheek.

For a while, they stayed like this, settled against each other, Jaskier slowly fingering him until Geralt couldn’t stop clenching around his fingers and asking for more.

When three fingers curved into him and caressed his prostate, Geralt thought he was going to come undone. “Fuck- fuck, fuck, fuck, Jaskier-,”

“Good?” Jaskier asked a bit worriedly.

“Fuck, yes , good,” Geralt bit in a tone that was halfway between “how the fuck could it be anything but good” and “don’t you fucking dare stop” , making Jaskier laugh again.

“Okay, darling- still love the enthusiasm,” Jaskier said while Geralt whined and begged until finally, fucking finally, Jaskier agreed he was ready. Jaskier slid between his thighs, his strong, well-built arms around Geralt’s middle and Geralt realised it was probably the first time he had been held like this in his entire life.

“Touch yourself for me?” Jaskier asked, his mouth against Geralt’s before Geralt shook his head.

“Can’t- gonna come if I do,” he breathed and Jaskier kissed him again.

“Please?” he asked. “I want to make sure it feels good,” he whispered, holding onto Geralt’s middle tighter.

Geralt complied and before long Jaskier’s hips were rising to meet his body. He felt the tip of Jaskier’s cock slide between his buttcheeks and touch the soft of his ass and he startled, pulling away and pressing back against Jaskier just as fast.

“Fuck,” he swore as Jaskier whined. “Please, Jask,” he moaned as the hand on his cock started shaking. He then felt the tip of Jaskier’s cock against him again, and the steady push of Jaskier’s hips as the head of Jaskier’s cock entered him. He whined as Jaskier pushed further and lowered himself as slow as he could with the lone strength of his thighs and Jaskier’s arms wrapped around his waist.

“Ok?” Jaskier asked breathlessly. A gasp was all Geralt managed. His thoughts were an endless thread of fuck fuck fuck he couldn’t sort out in any order. “Yea- ah,” he broke, “ fuck ,”

“Is it too much?” Jaskier asked, “I can- I can stop, do you need me to stop?”

“ Don’t ,” Geralt moaned, clenching every single muscle in his body to keep Jaskier against him and eliciting a cry from Jaskier. His arms were around Jaskier’s shoulders, his forehead against the man’s temple. Geralt was holding onto him with everything he got.

“I just-” he tried to take a slow long breath thinking about everything he had learned through meditation and managed one ragged breath. “You’re a lot,” he managed in a sigh, clenching around Jaskier despite how much he tried to relax.

Jaskier’s breath caught in his throat half-way between pleasure and laughter. “I get that all the time,” he said cheekily.

“Don’t- don’t make me laugh,” he said, chuckling breathlessly, and Jaskier joined him, both trying to breathe through the involuntary clenching of Geralt’s inner muscles and the accidental movements of Jaskier’s hips.

They laughed into each other’s mouths as they kissed, mouth open, tongues licking each other’s lips, teeth biting softly, teasingly. When they were both ready, Jaskier pulled himself down as he helped Geralt raise on his knees and they met again, moaning and groaning.

“You ok?” Jaskier whispered again and by then, Geralt had no fucking idea. He had never felt so tense and relaxed at once, uncomfortable but so fucking fantastic. His nerves and his ass were on absolute fire but it was good, it was good, it was so, so-

“So good,” he growled, aware that every part of his body was probably shaking in Jaskier’s arms. “ Ah , don’t stop,” he moaned, and Jaskier, incredible, astonishing, wonderful Jaskier did not stop .

Their hips moved in sync, feeding Geralt with the kind of friction he had never imagined could feel so good.

He let himself relax entirely into Jaskier’s embrace, sliding against the whole length of Jaskier’s body, pressing torso against torso, his forehead against Jaskier’s sweaty fringe, their noises brushing, their mouths breathing the same air.

“Ye-ah?” Jaskier moaned. “You like it? You really- ah , fuck- you- ah , you feel so good, does it feel good, tell me-” he rambled, far, so far from actually needing the reassurance.

Geralt groaned. “ Yes ,” he whined, “I like it, I like it, I like you , please,” and Jaskier whined and then did something- Geralt didn’t know, something, somehow, maybe went harder or faster or different, but he pulled and pushed and Geralt lost his fucking mind. He did it again and again, kissing Geralt, licking his neck, biting on his earlobe, caressing his nipples, bruising his hips in his grasp, pulling on his cock, whispering into his ear and making him whine and moan and shout until Geralt begged to be undone.

“I’ve got you, love,” Jaskier said, “I’ve got you.” Jaskier pulled harder on his hips in a half-broken groan, making Geralt slip towards him a little more.

Geralt arched his back, moaning in delight from the new angle. His neck was left exposed for Jaskier to kiss and lick, and breathe against Geralt’s skin. Every cell in Geralt’s body was burning and electric, and boiling. Everything felt so good and so much and so Jaskier , so he begged, begged again, and again for Jaskier to hold him and kiss him and fill him as he came, and so he did. He came, held, and kissed, and filled, and perfect, and Jaskier came, too, gasping into his mouth as they fell into each other.

For a moment, there was no other sound apart from the unsteady breathing and an occasional moan from the two of them as they slowly, comfortably, came back down to earth. Jaskier moved first, turning his head to kiss Geralt’s cheek, pushing his long white hair away from his face, and Geralt turned his head lazily towards him, leaning into a kiss.

“You ok?” Jaskier whispered, probably for the hundredth time and Geralt, for the thousandth time, hummed and nodded. Soon they would detach from each other, groaning from the discomfort of their sensible muscles, their come-dirtied bellies and lube-stained sheets anything but glamorous.

But for the time being, they laid their heads against each other’s shoulders, eyes closed, content with the feeling of holding and being held.

“Hey,” Jaskier whispered.

Geralt hummed questioningly.

“Stay for breakfast?” Jaskier asked. He missed the soft smile that drew on Geralt’s lips.

“Hmm.”

#geraskier #geraskier fic #the witcher fic #the witcher #bisexual geralt of rivia #bottom geralt of rivia #top jaskier #my writing #mine: no warnings #mine: geraskier #mine: modern au #mine: of fingers tongues and toes series

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