#i may have actually made a squeal noise accidentally and

[lock-my-feelings-in-a-jar]

[cuntressgoingdigital]

free palestine! click this link for more info + dono links (if you have links to any other gfms/resources pls send them to me so i can update the list!)

hello hello i am here with some abby x autistic! reader content bc i know i cant be the only autistic person obsessed with her. yes this is completely self indulgent.

i kinda just threw words on the page, but i hope someone out there will enjoy :)

it takes ages for you and abby to actually get together because you were entirely oblivious to her advances. during breakfast you had spent a solid thirty minutes talking about the different wildflowers that grew in north america and their significance in literature. abby thought your passion for the subject was sweet so while on patrol she picked some flowers that kind of looked like the ones in the pictures you showed her. when she presented them to you, your squeals of joy made her entire face light up. 

“ah, thank you!”

you think nothing of it, assuming she was just being nice. you always assume she’s just being nice. so when you accidentally end up on a moonlit picnic date with her and she asks to kiss you, your eyebrows raise in confusion. 

abby looks mortified “oh god, did i make things weird? i’m sorry.”

“no, no!” you reassure her. “i just…didn’t know this was a date.”

she could throw up on the spot. had she misread the situation? sure she never said the word “date”, but she told you that she wanted to spend some time alone with you. she brought you flowers, wine (if you could even call it that) that owen had been fermenting, and you two had been cuddling under the stars for the better part of an hour. 

“you can kiss me.” your fingers fiddled with the stitching of the blanket beneath the two of you. “i would like that, actually.” 

when you start dating you apologize profusely about all of your sensory quirks. you didn’t want to cuddle after she washed her hair because you hated the feeling of her wet hair on your skin. she kept separate blankets for you because you didn’t like the texture of the fabric on hers. 

you nearly cried after the only time you snapped at her. someone was playing music in the mess hall, everyone was talking over each other, the smell and texture of the mushy broccoli was overwhelming, and abby was asking too many questions about your assignments for the day. 

“please just be quiet for a second!” your tone had been a little sharper than you intended. abby looked hurt until tears welled in your eyes and you apologized over and over. you talked it over after dinner and obviously abby wasn’t mad at you (not that she ever could be). 

after that, whenever she would play music she always made a point to ask 

“is that too loud?”

and you absolutely hated patrol. all the yelling, the occasional gunfire, that god awful clicking. it was an overstimulating nightmare. abby often picked up your shifts whenever she could to save you the misery of leaving base. on the off chance that she couldn’t, she would always make sure a few pairs of ear plugs were in your bag.

you fight the need to vocal stim around people who aren’t her. it was a weight off your shoulders when you finally felt brave enough to explain it to her. at first, she just ignored them, growing accustomed to the empty noise. one day, when you’re softly meowing on repeat, she decided to join in. the two of you would meow back and forth until you erupted into giggles.

abby never made you feel weird about anything. sure, she had questions, but never in an invasive way. she just wanted to cater to and accommodate you as best she could. all because she loves you. 

i may write more of this if people like it? i have a plethora of experiences to draw inspo from lmao

[takaraphoenix]

WIP Whenever

I got tagged by @clareguilty - thank you dear <3 - and oh boy yeah, I got too many things I am working on parallel right now so I am spoiled for choice (I do not like this, because I usually write one oneshot at a time and don't start four to shuffle between, it's dizzying). HOWEVER since you posted a Stetopher snippet, you're getting a Stetopher snippet in return ;D

Have a sneak peek into Surprise Wedding Guest, a Stetopher Neckz 'n Throats AU based on a prompt from my wonderful @kimmycup to be posted on November 27th. Malia and Allison invite Peter and Chris' celebrity crush, famous Neckz 'n Throats model Stiles, to Peter and Chris' wedding in the hopes that maybe his PR team will send them a signed picture or something. Unexpectedly, Stiles actually shows up.

(Once again, this was meant to be short but then I accidentally also gave Stiles a stalker who's trying to kill him and Stiles ends up hiring Chris' security firm for protection and there were a lot of Pack Feels as per usual and platonic bestieisms for Sciles and Sterica and Sterek and now I'm 16k into this somehow. That's enough rambling, sorry. On to the sneak peek.)

--

“Hi, Batman! Isaac said you’re here!”

The next second, he had the blonde draped over him, scent-marking and hugging him. Yeah, Derek was right. There really were people outside his pack now who he cared about. He grinned as he scent-marked her back, earning a very pleased noise from the wolf.

“We should hang out more,” Stiles declared impulsively. “You mostly live in my phone and that’s a shame. I should get to see you more often, it’s a treat for my eyes.”

He winked, causing Erica to cackle. “Says the literal model.”

“Girl, have you seen yourself,” Stiles raised his eyebrows and dragged his eyes over her. “I can picture you in multiple shoots as we speak.”

“That’d be fun,” Erica grinned amused.

“Okay. Tell me when you’re free.”

The grin turned into a surprised expression as Erica blinked at him. “Wait. Are you serious?”

“Sure,” Stiles shrugged. “I mean it, you’re a total bombshell. If you’re interested in actually doing a shoot, I can arrange that.”

“You… can? And you would? Really?”

Shit, it was too adorable when people got surprised by him doing something for them. Made him feel all giddy and happy, because it showed that they didn’t expect it. That he was more than just his connections and money to them. He’d been used too many times at this point and every time he had someone who really did spend time with him just to spend time with him, without wanting or expecting something from him in return, that meant the world to him.

Stiles raised his eyebrows in amusement. “Yeah, I can. Beyond the fact that everyone in the industry is ready to bend over backward to please me and be on my good side, I really do think that you got the face, and the body, for the job, so what’s the harm in trying if you really are interested.”

“Holy shit,” Erica squealed and fully launched herself at him, hugging him tightly. “I gotta tell Boyd!”

As soon as their hug ended, she rushed off to the kitchen again, leaving Stiles with an amused smile on his lips before he sat down. The smile dimmed a little when he saw the frown Chris and Peter aimed at him. Oh. Had he… Had he overstepped? They were Erica’s Alphas, maybe they didn’t want one of their pack-members to do something like this. He felt weirdly disappointed and sad at that thought, that they may judge his profession. There were enough people like that, he knew it from his own experience. People who looked at the porn and enjoyed it but still looked down on the models for doing the job. He hated the thought that Chris and Peter may be looking down on him.

“You didn’t have to do that, Stiles,” Chris spoke softly. “You know that Erica didn’t befriend you to get a job, right?”

“Huh,” Stiles blinked surprised.

“She loves you a lot,” Peter added, voice as gentle as his husband’s. “You just told us about how most people want to gain something from you. Erica doesn’t.”

Oh. The sad feeling dispersed and was replaced by comfortable warmth again. A soft smile spread over his lips as he regarded them.

“That’s not…” Stiles shook his head. “That’s sweet of you to say, but I’m actually aware of that. She never asked me for anything, she didn’t ask for the shoot either. I offered. I like doing nice things for the people I care about, if it’s in my power to do it. Pulling some strings is nothing.”

He watched the frowns on Chris and Peter’s face to slowly fade as they nodded. It made him smile. They’d been worried about him. That was… nice. He bit his lips, watching Isaac carry over their food. It smelt as divine as always. Boyd seriously was an amazing chef and this place should be booked out at all times. Looking around, he saw far too many empty tables for a Friday night.

He knew his post during the wedding had gained them some traction, but that had been five or six months ago now, hadn’t it? Celebrity craze tended to die down. Well, Stiles couldn’t let that stand. He got his phone out and took a moderately indecent picture of himself eating – he knew full-well what his lips looked like and the effect they had on horny people – and then posted it to his insta, tagging the restaurant again.

“Put your phone down,” Chris ordered, very sternly.

It startled Stiles into nearly dropping it because holy shit that bossy voice was hot. When he looked up at the man, he must have looked like a deer in the headlights, even as he obeyed.

“In our pack, there are no phones allowed during dinner. If you eat with us, you follow our rules,” Peter clarified, voice as serious as his husband’s.

Stiles bit back the ‘Yes, sir’ that threatened to spill from his lips at the commanding voices. He would not mind following their rules in other settings either.

--

Tagging @kimmycup @blairwaldcrf @miazeklos

[finnofamerica]

The Week Of - Bucky Barnes X Reader || Part 2 || Angst / Fluff

Summary: As a bridesmaid in your best friend’s wedding, you are invited to stay with her during the week of the wedding as everything gets prepared for the big day. Things don’t quite go as planned when you discover that you will be bunking with one of the groomsmen.

Word Count: 1,180

Date Posted: 05.30.23

TW: strong language.

Note: This may not actually be that angsty again...

|| Masterlist || Request Here || Ask Me Stuff || Part 3 || Requested

“Are you ready for that hug now?” You asked, wandering into the kitchen, baggy sweats cuffed around your ankles so you wouldn’t accidentally trip over them. Ava’s face broke out into a grin. 

“Yes, of course!” She squealed, pulling you into her arms. “God, I missed you! It’s been too long.” 

“I missed you too.” You relaxed into the physical touch, no longer feeling overstimulated from the airport. The quiet was interrupted by the growling of your stomach.

“Do you want to go get shitty fast Mexican food and hang out in Bessie and talk?” She asked, needing to get in a good chat before the events of the wedding kicked off. You nodded, smiling sheepishly. 

One hill that you would die on is that what makes Filiberto’s so great is the fact that it is so shitty and greasy. The last time you’d visited Ava, the two of you had Filiberto’s three times in the one week. Something about it made it so delicious and addicting, and within days of your return home, you were already fantasizing about when you would get your next taste. 

“I’m sorry that I didn’t ask you to be my maid of honor,” Ava interrupted the content silence of your meal in the front seat of her VW Bus. The sunset over the park you had pulled into casted golden rays over her face. “I just needed someone who would be here to help me with the planning and the bridal shower.” 

“I understand,” You smiled, “I kinda assumed that’s why you didn’t pick me. I’m glad you and Greyson are finally tying the knot, though.” 

“I heard that you and Bucky had quite the rough start.” 

You sighed, regret sitting heavy in your chest, “I was overstimulated and not handling my emotions well. I shouldn’t have taken it out on him, but he also shouldn’t have kept me trapped in that tiny space while he let everyone else get off the plane first.”  

“I know,” Ava assured, “But Bucky doesn’t know that. I think you two would really get along if you apologized. Maybe if you explained to him what was happening in your big beautiful brain.” 

“You’re right.” 

“Are you ready to head home?”

“Yeah, let’s head home.” 

Bucky was laid shirtless in the king-sized bed when you entered your shared room, book in hand. For a long moment, you were frozen in place. His entire left arm was made of metal, but it looked like an arm. It wasn’t like the vast majority of prosthetics that you had seen. Most impressive was that it was functional. There were many prosthetics you’d seen that were for show or had very limited functionality. 

“Are you gonna keep staring, or are you gonna say something?” His voice knocked you out of your stupor. 

“I uh,” you let out a long breath, trying to calm your racing heartbeat. Each word halted, making your sentence come out slow and staggered. You were never one for confrontation; every syllable felt like a nail in your coffin. “We got off on the wrong foot today, and I just wanted to clear the air.” 

Bucky set his book to the side, giving you his full attention. Momentarily distract you with how his muscles shifted and the puffy scars that crept down his left pec. 

“I am sorry that I snapped at you.” You started, looking anywhere but at his face, “I was really overstimulated by the whole air travel process, and I genuinely wanted to claw off my own skin, and airports have entirely too many people and noises and things. Not that that excuses the fact that I was rude to you, but I’m just trying to let you know where I am coming from and why I acted the way that I did, and-” 

“Stop.” He said firmly, causing your words to fizz out like air being released from a balloon. “I was being a dick too. Obviously, you weren’t enjoying that situation when we were unloading, and I deliberately sat there to make you suffer. Wanna start over?” 

You sighed, a smile growing on your face. You stuck your hand out for him to shake, “Hi, I’m Y/n.” 

“I’m Bucky.” He shook your hand.  “Your arm is fascinating. Is that the latest from Stark Technologies? I heard after some horrible incident overseas, Tony stopped producing weapons of mass destruction and instead started to produce prosthetics and fund resources to help veterans with PTSD.” You sat cross-legged on the bed, trying to get a better look at the slated metal in front of you. “It’s fully functional? Like you never lost your arm?”  “It took a while to adjust to its sensitivities, but yes, it’s fully functional.”  “Can I touch it?”  “I guess,” He chuckled. He was used to children asking to examine his arm, but most grown adults just adverted their eyes and pretended it didn’t exist as it that was supposed to help normalize someone having an arm made entirely of metal. You examined it with care, only using feather light touches as you traced the slats in the metal. You followed the pattern all the way up his shoulder to his chest, where the scars spiderwebbed across his pec.  Bucky sucked in a breath as you traced one of his scars, shifting slightly. You pulled your hand back abruptly as if he’d electrocuted you.  “I’m sorry, did I hurt you?” You asked.  “No…. It’s just been a long time.”  You waited for him to finish his sentence for a moment until you realized that he wasn’t going to.  “I guess it’s getting pretty late.” You scratched the back of your neck. "I can sleep in the armchair.”  “Absolutely not. I would not be much of a gentleman if I let you do that. Besides, both my mom and Ava would kick my ass. I will sleep in the chair tonight.”  You chuckled at the image of Ava’s tiny, curvy frame landing a kick square between his cheeks.  “You sure?”  “I’m sure.”  “Okay.”  He swung his legs over the side of the bed, letting out a groan as he stretched. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from his shirtless back, admiring the functional definition in his muscles. You couldn’t help but let your eyes wander down his spine. His boxers fit tightly to his ass and thighs. There was no way this man skipped out on his squats.  Bucky pulled the little footstool over to the chair, sitting down to measure out the distance. You had to advert your eyes, or you’d not-so-subtly be staring at what he was packing. Your face heated uncontrollably as you began to make your nest in the large bed.  You could hear him move around to the armoire, digging out an extra blanket from the bedding stored there. As he headed back to the chair, he flicked off the light, cursing slightly to himself as he blindly worked his way to his “bed.”  “Night, Y/n.”  “Good night, Bucky.” You whispered back in the darkness.

Tags: @1deadpool26 @vicmc624 @fortisfilia

[fishedeyelenz]

*inhales deeply* haaah….okay. Okay, this might be…rather lengthy, but please bear with me Ms. Fishy! I usually try not to leave comments on things, just cause I’m, nervous about how much I want to say lol, and then I sometimes (most of the time) come off too intense and strongly and I unfortunately have more than once maybe freaked or creeped poor innocent souls out accidentally lol. But! This is about our poor freaky attic boy! So maybe it’ll be fine lol.

Oh my goodness, so. I have, in recent times, discovered Billy….and immediately I just feel in love with him! First cause he looked so silly and cute and goofy! And because I only vaguely saw one or two things about some guy in a sweater who was either really sweaty or just intense. So I needed to know more about this little man! I mean…obviously. And the more I read about him, both on actual research trips in google, and my roaming and happy lurking or tumblr, welp I just, fell more in love with him!! Little freak boi.

But what really just….sealed my brain to him, was when I started finding fanfiction on here and ao3, that really took a step into his brain, and his very scattered and unstable thinking process, and all his behaviors, in conjunction to me hunting down and watching the actual black Christmas movie and I just…..there was one specific little fanfiction I read…I don’t remember the name or the author…but it just, broke my heart so much. It made me cry SO much, because they made him sound so much like me! In all the worst ways he was written in a way that is so familiar to me.

And so now I’m hunting for good Billy stories on ao3, and that’s where I find you! The first story I read by you was the…the snow day one if I’m naming it correctly, and oh…me hart…but then! I found Mousie!! I freaking cried. Again! Because it’s so intense reading about Billy…behaving so…SIMILAR to me….it just makes my chest and my heart fill up so tightly, and I feel my heart break for Billy, because, in my brain, I would go, “he’s like me! He’s just like me, I’m just like him…..I bet…he would like that. We wouldn’t freak each other out! If I could just hold him! If I could just hold him tight and cry with him cause I know! I know Billy! But it’s okay I promise, we’re both gonna be okay please just listen to my heart beat!” And so I, in my many many day dream stories, would day dream about all kinds of ways I would meet Billy, who would lose their marbles first, and how I would show Billy how similar we are, and how…NICE it would be to actually understand each other. To just, not feel so alone and ODD.

And this is all well and good, and I keep in my heart close to me…but! Your most recent ask! About, Billy and dilf Billy with an S/O with all kinds of ticks and stims and sensory issues….and when normal Billy is happy and goes, “your just like me..!” I freaking lost it aaaah!! My eyeballs MAY have gotten watery again lol. I’m so sorry if this is all just so silly sounding….but oh my goodness…I just…love the way you write Billy. I do it all….the hair pulling, the skin picking, the finger and skin biting…the rocking, the stuttering, the voice and word mimicking, the fear of being seen, the thoughts, the horrible loud thoughts, the URGES, the emotions that explode and make my brain either break and I have breakdowns and I’m sobbing screaming hurting myself, scared of hurting others, or I just check out, I’m out yo I’m gone babe, I just ain’t here at that moment. The fear, the slight delusions when I get bad…the shame and disgust and guilt, ugh horrible loud noises, bright lights, strong smells, bad textures, bad words, so much BAD! (Yes I’m autistic lol) but, yes believe it or not lol, I’m actually a very happy person (besides the horrors) and I’m very giggly, (overly giggly actually it a problem at times) very smiley, and I make all these little noises (though I try to contain it to when I’m alone) like I chitter and I click my throat when I’m happy and I wriggle and squirm and squeal cause there’s just so much happy pressure in me and I just shake and wiggle my hands by my side and, geez that’s all me, that’s all me and I know it’s a lot and I’m reading and seeing it all in Billy and it’s…gee it’s so overwhelmingly sweet to me! Reading about his bad times, and someone being sweet to him, how I wish I could be sweet to him cause heaven knows I understand, and just maybe him be sweet to me! I just….mmh! Dang. I just think we’d be friends me and him. And the way you write just fills my heart, it’s so very lovely, thank you so much for all the wonderful Billy stories.

(I know that was a lot please forgive me you straight up don’t have to respond, I just wanted you to know how lovely it all is and how I appreciate your Billy writing lol)

(But like fr I wanna freaking chew on him and shake him while growling like a freak rrrRRRGH I’ll bloody tackle him I’ll snarl at him do not TEST me Billy *deep affection*)

Oh... oh my god. You just made my day. This made me so happy you cannot believe. Thank you for taking your time to write this this ask, it first shocked me (in a good way lol) and then i started grinning and crying. It makes me so so so happy to see my goofy stories resonate with people and when you guys come and compliment me I go AAAAAAAHH- <3333

I never would have thought my fics would resonate so much. I started writing them in desperation from a lack of content after I read every fic that I possibly could, and I thought I could write my own. I remember posting my first few fics and waiting for my first comment <3 I never would have thought my work would become so well liked!!!

I'm glad Billy is relatable. I'm glad he is a good depiction of various things you and many others go through. One of my biggest fears was that I would miss the mark, that he would come off as a caricature, or shallow or offensive or or.... but the most frequent positive comment I get consistently is that my characterization is spot on. So much of myself I put into my depiction of him, so so much. And I'm glad you feel that way. I'm glad you wasn't to reach out and hold him, and tell him that it's okay and there are people there who get you. Everybody needs that, even if you can only express that to a freaky fictional attic killer, as strange as it sounds lol <3

I'm just... I'm glad that you like my work. I'm so glad and I know I'm rambling but I don't know how to otherwise express my gratitude. I have been going through a minor crisis in art, cause I know the things I do on here or on ao3 aren't something that would be highly appreciated by my irls, and they would think it was a waste of time, and a crisis about when I will start making art as a full time job and will I make it. You gave me reassurance that I am not wasting my time, that even if the art would be seen as "lower" by some people the resonance and importance of it can be boundless to others. And you also gave me hope that I'll make it one day. Thank you so much. Billy would be your friend. Take care.

[bambirex]

The World Is Yours, If You Seek The Good: Chapter 14

Pairings: Geraskefer, Yennskier, Geraskier, Yenralt

Characters: Jaskier, Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt of Rivia, Ciri of Cintra, Lambert

Additional tags: implied/referenced abuse, forced pregnancy, mpreg, creature fic, fae Jaskier, creature Jaskier, creature Yennefer, captivity, enemies to friends to lovers, polyamory, found family, hurt/comfort, it starts out angsty but it will get better, completely made up lore, fertility issues, completely made up skills and powers, angst, angst with a happy ending, whump, Jaskier whump, Yennefer whump, Geralt whump, Ciri whump, blood, nightmares, injury, wound care, past rape/non-con, trauma, sexually inexperienced Yennefer, sexually inexperienced Jaskier, threesome- f/m/m, mild sexual content

Rating: mature

Chapters: 14/20

Full word count: 43,449 words

Chapter word count: 3,261 words

Summary: Used and abused by humans, Jaskier and Yennefer believe they are alone and with no reason to trust anybody. That is, until they meet each other - and then, a couple of other strange misfits.

Chapter summary: Geralt, Jaskier and Yennefer get to spend some time together, while something happens to Ciri.

Author's notes: WARNINGS for mentioned past non-con!!!! It's not very explicit, but be careful, just in case! There's also sexual content in this, which also isn't as explicit as my usual stuff, but you know, treading lightly is always the best option!

Read on Ao3

*

Ciri nagged Geralt constantly to let her go fishing with Lambert to the nearby lake. Geralt, of course, was a little apprehensive, but Ciri reminded him that it was still close to the hut, and with her newly discovered powers - over which she gained more and more control thanks to Yennefer's teaching - she had a better chance at defending herself. Besides, she had Lambert by her side, who despite being a loveable weirdo, was very much still a strong, skilled witcher.

"So, you have nothing to worry about," Ciri said in the company of a smile. "We'd only be away for a few hours."

"Why are you so insistent on fishing, of all things?" Geralt asked, raising an eyebrow at her. "I think you said it sounded like the most boring thing in the whole world."

Ciri bit her lip to stifle a smile. Technically, she still thought exactly that, but she needed a good reason to leave the hut for a few hours, so Geralt, Yennefer and Jaskier could be alone a little bit.

Ciri was well aware of the intense emotions between the three of them, but for some reason, neither of them seemed to dare make the first move towards an actual relationship, despite the fact that was clearly what they all wanted. Well, Yennefer and Jaskier may have started due to that kiss they shared, but Ciri wanted to give them the final push they needed to admit their feelings for each other.

The best way to do that, she believed, was that if she gave them some time alone.

"I changed my mind," Ciri said with a shrug. "It'll be fun with Lambert."

"Everything is fun with me," Lambert chimed in with a chuckle. "Don't get your knickers in a twist, Geralt. We'll be literally only a couple meters from here. You'll even see our backs if you look out the window. But I hope you won't do that."

Geralt made a confused noise at the back of his throat. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, there will be other things you should be looking at."

Ciri quickly kicked Lambert's shin under the table to make him shut up. She confided in him about her plan, and she didn't want to him accidentally spill the truth. Lambert sent her a little wink.

"Alright, whatever," Geralt gave in with a sigh. "But only a few hours. And don't stray too far."

Ciri squealed and threw herself into Geralt's arms. Geralt let out a soft huff before he enveloped her in a hug. Ciri and Lambert grinned at each other over Geralt's shoulder.

After losing her family back at Cintra, Geralt came to bring the lost love back to Ciri. And now, with Jaskier and Yennefer, Ciri felt like her family could be complete again. She couldn't wait for that to become official.

--

"She'll be okay, Geralt," Jaskier told him softly as he watched Geralt pace up and down in the living room. "She's with Lambert."

"That's exactly what I'm worried about."

"You're such a worrywart," Yennefer laughed. "It's quite endearing."

"Is it?" Geralt asked, quirking an amused eyebrow at her. It made Yennefer grin.

It was definitely endearing, possibly the most endearing thing Yennefer has seen. Something about Geralt being so soft under that hard exterior, something about him being a good and caring father to Ciri made Yennefer's heart melt.

"You're adorable," Jaskier cooed from his seat. His eyes glinted with mischief as Geralt sent him a look. "What? It's time you got used to compliments."

A soft smile spread across the witcher's face at that. There was a faint pink tint coloring his cheeks as he leant against the closet behind him.

"I think I would get used to them," Geralt said, "if I got even more."

Yennefer hummed. Geralt became more and more openly affectionate, as well as letting himself ask for it more often. It was very lovely to experience.

Jaskier took the challenge with an eager grin.

"Let's see: you're insanely hot. I've never seen such beautifully sculpted muscles on anyone before. I'm drooling."

"Very good," Geralt chuckled. Yennefer let out a soft laugh of her own upon seeing the amusement in Geralt’s eyes.

"Your eyes are gorgeous, intense. I don't wanna stop looking into them. Your jawline was crafted by the gods."

"Keep going."

"You have the kindest heart," Jaskier continued, the teasing tone of his voice giving place to genuine awe. "You're caring, protective."

"Trustworthy," Yennefer added softly. "Keeping your word. Loyal. Honest."

"I like what I'm hearing," Geralt admitted. He moved closer to them, until he stood right in front of them. There, he seemed to lose his confidence for a fleeting second, shifting his weight from one foot to the other awkwardly.

"It's all true," Jaskier breathed. He looked up at Geralt with big, bright eyes, his lips parting softly as he took in a deeper breath, as if he was preparing himself to say something important.

"We love you, Geralt," was what he eventually said, his lashes fluttering as he watched Geralt's shocked face. "Not just as a friend, or a confidante. We're in love with you."

"We are," Yennefer admitted, feeling her cheeks heat up. She reached over and grabbed Jaskier's hand, squeezing it. The synella scooted closer to her, pressing his warmth against Yennefer. Yennefer looked up at Geralt curiously.

The tension between the three of them has been building steadily, but no real steps have been made since that one kiss between her and Jaskier. Which was a big thing, clearly, but Yennefer and Jaskier both knew their relationship needed one more missing piece - Geralt.

For a few moments, Geralt just stared at them, his pupils blown wide, his lips parted. Yennefer felt her heart pick up as she waited for him to reply.

Geralt moved closer again, until he knelt on the floor in front of Jaskier. He lifted his hands uncertainly, blinking up at the fae.

"Yes," Jaskier told him gently, already knowing what Geralt wanted to ask. Geralt made a soft sound as he ran his hands up Jaskier's thighs, until they settled on his hips. He rubbed at the skin there with his thumbs gently before he leant up and pressed his lips against Jaskier's.

They made a beautiful picture together, Yennefer thought as she watched them, warmth blossoming inside her chest. Geralt's big, calloused hands caressed Jaskier's delicate sides so gently as he kissed him. Jaskier's own hand was tangled in Geralt’s unruly white hair, his long fingers carding through his locks. Geralt accidentally bumped into Jaskier's belly, and he reached between them to caress it in apology. Yennefer felt her lips curl into a wide smile.

Jaskier's cheeks were flushed a beautiful pink when they parted, and Geralt's lips were shiny and slightly swollen from their kiss. Yennefer's heart jumped when Geralt looked at her.

She reached out and dragged Geralt towards herself until she could taste his lips. A sigh ripped from her chest as she melted into his arms that circled around her.

Yennefer cupped his cheeks, letting her fingers map out the muscles in his jaw, the stubble on his skin. She was still holding his face when their lips finally broke apart so they could breathe.

Yennefer's breath hitched in her throat when Jaskier leant in and kissed her neck, his lips gentle but searing hot against her skin. Yennefer moved to cup his jaw so she could kiss him on the mouth, swallowing his soft gasp.

"Maybe we should find a more comfortable place to continue this," Geralt drawled. He had one hand on Yennefer's knee, the other on Jaskier's stomach. "Maybe the bedroom."

Yennefer's heart skipped a beat when she realized what that meant. She swallowed thickly, trying not to show her panic too much - she clearly failed at it, judging by the looks of concern Jaskier and Geralt sent her.

"Are you alright?" Jaskier asked her softly. He tucked a piece of hair behind Yennefer's ear. "Did we do something wrong?"

"No," Yennefer was quick to say. She ducked her head down, her face heating up in shame. "It's just that I've never..."

With her living her whole life in captivity, she never got the chance to be intimate with anyone. She was alone most of the time, and luckily, the humans were too scared of her to try and do anything to her against her will. Yennefer was aware of what having sex with someone entailed, but she never experienced it herself. And while she wanted nothing more than to do it with Geralt and Jaskier, she was worried her lack of experience and skill in the matter would make her appear ridiculous.

"Hey," Geralt spoke softly, "that's alright. We don't have to."

"I want to," Yennefer clarified, "I just don't know how to do it."

"We can show you. Lead you. Whatever you need. Right, Jaskier?"

"Well," Jaskier's voice sounded somewhat uncertain. Yennefer looked up and saw him worrying his lower lip between his teeth.

"I mean... I've done it, just... Not like this. I mean... only with Master, and he was...not very gentle. It wasn’t…very enjoyable…"

He trailed off. Yennefer felt her chest tighten with anger. The idea that Jaskier was used like that, by that disgusting bastard filled her with rage.

"Did he do it to you even when I was there?"

"Sometimes. Not in front of you, though."

"Possibly because I would have killed him if I saw it happen," Yennefer growled. She clenched her fists against her lap. Geralt's eyes were also murderous.

"I'll hunt him down," he snarled. Jaskier hummed softly.

"Let's not talk about this anymore," he said quietly. "I only mentioned this so Yennefer would know she's not the only one who isn't well-versed in this."

Yennefer reached over and cupped his cheek, soothingly rubbing her thumb over his skin.

"Thank you for telling us."

"We really don't have to do anything," Geralt promised, giving each of them a small, but earnest smile. "It's enough if we're just together like this."

"We trust you," Jaskier replied. He leant forward and kissed Geralt's forehead. "We always will."

"Just be patient with us, okay?" Yennefer asked with a nervous little chuckle. Geralt nodded and kissed the tip of her nose gently, making her go cross-eyed for a second.

Geralt helped Jaskier up from the seat before he took Yennefer's hand as well. Yennefer's heart pounded heavily in her chest as she followed him, holding onto their hands tightly.

Her anxiety melted once they reached Geralt's bedroom. She wrapped her arms around Jaskier's neck and pulled him down into a kiss. His lips were sweet, and his hands were gentle as he held Yennefer's waist. Geralt wrapped his own arms around them from behind Jaskier, as he kissed all over the fae's neck. Jaskier trembled and made a soft gasping sound against Yennefer's lips.

"Can I take off your clothes?" Geralt drawled into Jaskier's ear. Jaskier nodded frantically, the flush on his cheeks deepening.

Yennefer took a step back to admire the sight of Geralt gently unlacing Jaskier's blouse. Her breath hitched as she looked at Jaskier's bare body for the first time. Like Jaskier mentioned before, his body indeed did not look like what Yennefer expected - she has seen half-naked farmers before, but Jaskier's chest resembled her own a lot more, only covered with thick dark hair. His rounded stomach heaved with his excited breathing as Geralt continued kissing his neck and shoulders, his hands exploring his body gently, never taking anything without asking first. It made Yennefer's heart flutter.

They helped Jaskier lie down on the bed on his back, as doing it on his own was too much of a strain for the heavily pregnant synella. Jaskier bit his lip as Geralt removed his loose pants. Yennefer tried not to ogle him too much, but he looked so utterly perfect.

"Beautiful," she breathed. Jaskier blushed, his lips curling into a smile.

"You can take mine off," Yennefer told Geralt who sent her a questioning look. Geralt smiled and kissed her, his hands just as gentle on her body as they were on Jaskier's. Yennefer felt her muscles momentarily tense once she was fully naked, but she loosened up again when he felt how gentle, how patient Geralt was with her. Yennefer pulled at his clothes, wanting to see more of his body. Geralt aided her, and soon he was bare, his chiseled, hard body on display. Yennefer gently ran her fingers over his scars.

"I wanna touch you," Yennefer told Jaskier as she settled on the bed. "I don't know how."

"Gently?" Jaskier asked, uncharacteristically hesitant. He spread his legs further apart, revealing more of himself to Yennefer. Yennefer felt a gentle, supportive hand on her back as she settled between Jaskier's legs.

"Which one...?" She asked uncertainly, her hands hovering above Jaskier's appendages. One of them was just like her own, but she had no idea what to do with it, let alone with the other one.

"Whatever you pick."

"This is about your choice," Yennefer told him. "I want you to have that control that you were never allowed to have... besides, I need to be told what to do."

"Okay," Jaskier concluded softly. He gently took Yennefer's hand and led it between his legs, to the place that seemed a bit more familiar.

Geralt gently instructed the both of them, his arms holding Yennefer from behind, praising her as she carefully explored Jaskier's body. Her insecurities soon melted as she saw him writhe with pleasure underneath her, his long lashes fluttering in bliss.

It was not like Yennefer imagined: no sweating, no panting, not even a lot of pain. Geralt was so gentle, as if he wasn't even a hard mountain of a man: he was so careful, always checking in with the both of them, never doing anything they didn't like. He allowed them to have the control they were previously deprived of, and took it back when they needed him to lead. He showed Yennefer all the ways one could touch another's body for the sake of pleasure, and he showed Jaskier what it was like to do it with feeling.

It was an experience Yennefer would never forget - not while they lay in each other's arms afterwards, and not even centuries later.

"Are you both okay?" Geralt asked from where he was resting against Jaskier's shoulders, his nose buried in the crook of his neck. Jaskier hummed softly, burrowing into his lovers' warmth.

"I feel fantastic," Jaskier sighed happily. "Can we do it again?"

Yennefer laughed. "Bit insatiable, huh?"

"Can you blame me? Geralt is a stud. And you're also wonderful, Yen."

Yennefer grinned. She placed a hand over the swell of Jaskier's belly. She smiled when she felt the baby shift under her palm.

"I hope we didn't wake them up."

"That would've been awfully rude of us," Geralt chuckled. He laced his fingers together with Yennefer's over Jaskier's stomach. "Are you feeling alright, as well?"

"More than alright," Yennefer replied with a smile.

To think that just a couple months back, she had no one, and now she had a whole family for herself. How angry and sad and hurt she used to be, and how happy she was now. How it felt like things would never be alright, that her wounds would never heal. And now... now it finally seemed like life had many beautiful things to offer.

In the arms of her two lovers, with a baby kicking under her palm, and with the knowledge their child was also not far away, having fun with her weird uncle, Yennefer felt like bursting with happiness.

--

"Take it easy, girl. Good."

Ciri made a pitiful sound, something between a whimper and a groan. She sagged heavily against Lambert's side. The only reason she didn't collapse was because Lambert held her up.

Lambert would never admit it to anyone, but he was scared shitless when Ciri suddenly stilled and dropped the fishing rod, her eyes staring vacantly ahead. So vacantly, in fact, that her entire eyes turned white, matching the paleness of her cheeks. She didn't react as Lambert repeatedly called out her name and shook her by the shoulders, trying to drag her back to reality. It was like trying to wake up a corpse.

After a couple of terrifying moments where Lambert thought Ciri has left her own body, she woke up, her eyes slowly clearing before a few droplets of blood ran down her cheeks. She trembled and gasped for breath as she stumbled on her feet. She muttered something about "him", but Lambert couldn't make out the words. He needed to get her home quickly.

"Geralt?" He yelled as he walked through the door with Ciri under his arm. "Where are you? Yennefer? Jaskier?"

He couldn't find them in the kitchen or in the living room. He made Ciri sit on a chair before he poured her a glass of water. He hoped she wouldn't faint while he searched the house for his brother and his company.

"Geralt!" Lambert howled as he tore up the bedroom door. "Are you in here, you... oh."

Lambert blinked in surprise when he spotted Geralt, Jaskier and Yennefer cuddled up to one another on the bed. None of them had clothes on. Shit. Right. He forgot why they left them alone in the first place.

Geralt quickly covered them with a blanket. He sent his brother a murderous look.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Sorry for interrupting your liaison," Lambert huffed, "something happened with Ciri."

Geralt and Yennefer immediately jumped out of the bed while Jaskier made a miserable effort to try and sit up. Lambert quickly turned around to make sure he didn't see anything more than he already shouldn't have.

Luckily Geralt and Yennefer put some clothes on before they rushed to Ciri in the kitchen. They both dropped to their knees in front of her. Geralt cradled her against his chest while Yennefer caressed her hair, shushing her gently.

"What's wrong?" Geralt asked as he held her against his chest. "Are you hurt?"

"No," Ciri whispered. She swallowed thickly. "I saw him again."

"The man from your dream?" Yennefer asked, her face going pale. "What did you see?"

"He's coming for us," Ciri whispered. She let out a shaky breath. "For me, specifically."

Geralt turned around to face Lambert, who stood in the doorway, now with Jaskier by his side. The fae looked horrified upon hearing what Ciri said.

"We need to get to the bottom of this," Geralt said. His voice was full of concern. "We still have our eyes and ears in the woods, right?"

"Right," Lambert replied. "Do you want me to ask around?"

"We need to figure out who's looking for Ciri."

"So, you agree that they're visions? That someone out there is truly coming for her, and that’s what she’s seeing?" Yennefer asked, her voice quiet. Geralt let out a sigh as he nodded. There was clearly no point in pretending otherwise: if Ciri was in immediate danger, they needed to be honest with each other.

"What are we gonna do now?" Jaskier asked, wrapping his arms around his stomach protectively. Lambert reached out to squeeze his shoulder, trying to soothe him.

"One thing for sure," Geralt said, looking over each of them, his eyes full of determination, "we're gonna keep each other safe, no matter what."

[acourtofbookishdreams]

Azriel ~ Irresistable*

Azriel x Reader

* = NSFW. EXPLICIT CONTENT.

Summary: Whilst training with Azriel, you make one too many ‘innocent’ mistakes and his resolve wavers with each one until he can’t take it anymore.

Warning: NSFW, forbidden romance, teasing, shitty writing with no sense, out of character azriel, piece of crap - posting anyway aha

Word Count: 2539

"You need to tighten your core" Azriel instructs, voice soft and unjudgemental but aggravating nonetheless.

"I am tightening" I grit from between my teeth, working with all my waning strength on moving along the balance beam.

Azriel and I had been training only for a couple of weeks now after I'd finally decided I wanted to learn how to defend myself or at least be able to hold my own until I could get to safety. However, my insipid mortal reflexes and strength was making it insanely difficult to learn anything.

Considering my being the remaining mortal sister of the Archerons after thankfully being on a short trip to see a friend at the time my other sisters had been kidnapped and turned, it seemed like an even better idea. Especially to my overprotective older sisters. Sometimes, being the only human around definitely sucked and others, like when my sisters got roped into Fae bullshit...it definitely didn't.

It did really suck I wouldn't find a mate, though. That sounded incredibly...convenient.

"You may think you're engaging your core but you're not" Azriel says, moving slightly closer, his shadows surrounding him in the soft dawn light.

"You know what, if this is so easy then-ah!" I squeal as I fall off the beam, stumbling slightly and gripping the beams surface to keep from slipping as my feet land hard on the floor, ground shock reverberating up my legs, "Ugh, this sucks!"

Azriel chuckles softly, "You'll get it."

"It doesn't feel like it" I grumble

Azriel comes up behind me, placing one large hand across my stomach, pushing against it softly, "You need to act as if you're sucking in your stomach, belly button to spine."

I do exactly that, my stomach concaving in, forcing his hand to slip from my stomach and back to his side and Azriel laughs - a big, joyful chuckle, the loudest I'd ever heard from him.

"Was that a laugh?" I smirk, quirking one eyebrow

"I do laugh, you know."

"Not often...and not around me."

"Focus. We're not here to discuss my social habits. Now, I meant internally. It may sound strange but visualise it in your mind and then pull your stomach in and hold it. You'll feel it."

My smirk slips and I nod, focusing. I do as he instructs and though he is right, it does feel strange, I definitely feel it in my stomach, an odd and uncomfortable tightening sensation as if my stomach was benching a weight.

"Ow" I pout, releasing my stomach, "I don't like that"

"You'll get used to it" Azriel smiles, "Now, come on, back up on the beam and try again"

"Will you catch me if I fall?" I tease, my smirk returning. Though he may be over 200 years older than me, strictly off limits because of his being a completely different and dangerous race from me and completely emotionally unavailable, it didn't mean I couldn't flirt.

"Of course" Azriel responds, tone all business. I roll my eyes slightly as I hop back up onto the beam, one foot in front of the other.

Squeezing my eyes slightly against the pressure, I perform my weird suck-in thing to engage my core, taking a tentative step forward...and finding it suddenly way easier. Gaining confidence, I take another step forward, and then another, each one coming faster and faster until...

"I did it!" I giggle, reaching the opposite end of the beam and jumping off, "I actually did it."

"Well done" Azriel commends, his ice-hewn face slightly broken by a small smile, "Next beam"

"Already?" I gulp, looking over my shoulder. The next beam was higher up then the first, the top of it reaching my chest. I turn back to him, gesturing to the lower one, "Can't I just do this one again?"

Azriel says nothing and I sigh, moving over to the other beam and grabbing a couple step blocks to get up to the beam. Heaving myself up and onto the beam, I wobble softly and a small, startled squeak escapes my lips before I regain my balance.

"You really will catch me, right?" I ask nervously. Again, no response omits from his lips, just a short nod of which I couldn't tell was either actually in answer to my question or instruction to get a move on.

"Okay" I breathe, closing my eyes and stilling my body completely, performing the process of engaging my core slowly, each muscle at a time until I felt so tightly wound even a sharp shove couldn't knock me from my feet.

I take a step forward...then another...and then I slip.

My foot hits the side of the beam wrong and in an effort to stay up, I attempt to pull it back on rather than letting it go and placing it behind my other foot, bending at the knees as I was taught to do and had done many times on the lower beam. I scream and squeeze my eyes shut tightly as I tip backward, flailing my arms out as my back heads for the ground.

As if in slow motion, I turn my body as I fall, instinctively positioning to catch my fall with my hands - a rookie mistake. A pair of strong hands encircles my waist as I turn and without thinking I grab onto him, securing my body to his in every way possible to stop my fall. I grunt as one of my feet lands hard on the floor, ground shock again erupting through...one of my feet?

I open my eyes and find myself in the strangest position...Azriel's face was before me, his arm hooked underneath the crook of my right knee, holding the one leg up whilst the other was placed upon the floor as normal, my hips pressed against his.

"You really did fall in the most difficult way possible" Azriel says, voice deep and gravelly...as if straining.

It's then I notice Azriel's stance is crooked, his weight tipped to one side slightly as if weighed down...I gasp and almost send myself flying again as I realise what exactly I'd done in my attempt to escape a painful landing.

My knee was grazing his right wing, my left arm tightly wrapped around his neck with my elbow brushing the inside of his left wing and my right hand was placed entirely on the soft membrane of the inside of his right wing, my fingers splayed across the shimmering surface and pressing lightly onto it, the way one would place their hand on a surface to maintain balance.

Points of contact everywhere with Azriel's wings...Azriel's sensitive wings.

"Oh my...I'm so sorry" I gasp, pulling my leg out of his grasp and removing my arm from his neck, my hand from his wing, until I was standing before him. Closer than I'd ever been before, his eyes boring into mine.

"You couldn't have just fallen backward?" Azriel says, his voice still rough and strained, "I would've caught you."

"I know, I-" I stammer, "I didn't think, I just acted on instinct. I don't know what I was thinking. Are your wings okay?"

"They're fine" Azriel frowns softly, "Why wouldn't they be?"

"Feyre's told me before to be careful of your wings, to make sure I keep away from them because they're really sensitive...are they not?" I redirect as his confused frown deepens.

"They are but not in the way you seem to think" Azriel explains, "It doesn't cause me pain, which by the look on your face, I assume is what you think."

"It's not painful?" I breathe a sigh of relief, "Oh thank the forgotten gods...but if it's not a painful sensitivity, why do you seem so tense? Well, tenser."

"While it's not painful, it is still sensitive. The sensation is hard to explain but it just provokes a different...reaction."

"What do you mean?"

"It's too hard to explain. How about I show you the approximation of what it feels like to a non-winged being and then you tell me the reaction you have."

I nod, a little nervous about the slight gleam in Azriel's eyes, a knowing one...

Leaning forward, Azriel breathes softly into the shell of my ear, lips trailing sensually along the outer edge as his large hand ghosts down my spine in soft, light movements, his fingers barely touching the skin but sending shivers all the way through my body. My eyes go heavy lidded and instinctively, I grip his bicep to hold myself steady, neck tipping back slightly to expose more of my neck as his breath gusts over the sensitive skin, his hand coming to rest on the small of my back to keep me from falling on my ass. A small noise escapes from my throat.

In a lighting fast move, Azriel pulls me to rights and releases me completely, stepping a good few paces back. Breathing heavily, my eyes open and meet his and I imagine our expressions to be almost exact. Flushed cheeks, glazed eyes, chests rising and falling so agonisingly slowly as we attempt to keep our breathing even and failing completely.

"Woah" I breathe, "I definitely get it now."

"You can't do that, Y/N, damn it!" Azriel growls and I straighten further, lust filled haze vanishing.

"Do what?" I gape

"Make me-" Azriel says and then stops himself, "Never mind. Today's session is over"

He turns on his heel to leave but I run after him, meaning to grab his shoulder...and accidentally gracing the back of his wing again.

Damn it, dumbass.

Azriel releases a frustrated growl and whirls on me, pushing me back into a nearby wall, his hands on my waist, eyes staring into mine.

"That"

I was still confused. This was the only time I'd ever touched his wings...

Seeing my confused expression, Azriel presses closer, his body pressed to mine, something hard pressing into my-

Oh.

"I...I wasn't aware I" I stumble over my words, "I wasn't aware it was something I'd done more than once."

"That's a lie and you know it" Azriel huffs, "Stop feigning innocence."

"I'm not feigning anything!" I protest. I truly hadn't meant to turn him on. Now or any other time. Feyre and Nesta and Elain had all made it clear I shouldn't get into it with Azriel...Gods, even Rhys had told me to keep away!, "Why does it even matter? We're both adults, we can just move on from-"

"You don't get it, do you?" Azriel growls, "That I've wanted you every moment from when I first saw you, that Feyre and Rhys gave me this lecture about duty and responsibility and the different race bullshit and ordered me to stay away from you. The only reason I was allowed to train you is because I swore it'd be training and nothing more!"

"I'm...I don't know what to say to you except that I didn't know anything about any of that."

"I swear you're my own personal hell on Earth." Azriel sighs, shaking his head, eyes hard and cold as flint.

"Wow, thanks" I scoff sarcastically, offended, "I wasn't doing anything intentionally."

"That may be even worse" Azriel concedes, "Knowing that anything you did wasn't intentional means if you truly tried to make a move...I would fall at your feet and beg you for just a second of your time. For one moment between-I shouldn't be entertaining this idea."

No, please go on.

"It doesn't help that I can smell you every time you enter a room. It's like you specifically-"

"Wow, so now I smell?" I huff, "Perfect."

"Not that kind of smell. I can smell it on you now."

It?

Well, sure, I was sweaty but I'd just been working out. Although I'd cooled a bit now, with all the slow and steady lust-filled contact we'd had-

Oh...again.

I remember Nesta telling me once to be careful with any time I spent...with myself because the males could smell...

Could smell arousal.

"Oh" I say aloud this time, "That."

"I could swear you would touch yourself before each training session just to drive me insane with what I can't have-damn it, stop it!"

"Well I can't really help my body's reactions when you talk like that" I defend, that warm and tight feeling in my stomach building, eyelids fighting not to fall.

"Try" Azriel suggests weakly.

"If the past few weeks of my unintentional seducing you wasn't proof enough, I clearly can't do that."

"What has been with you recently? You're aroused all the time."

"I don't know" I blush, "I just...have been. Besides, it's not like I have someone I can go to here to...relieve myself of the frustration so I'm all I've got."

Azriel's jaw clenches, eyes ablaze with a hungry fire.

"Why can't we...I mean, why am I so forbidden to you?"

"Feyre and Rhys say...well, I don't know. It doesn't matter about their reasons, their my High Lord and Lady. If they order me to do something, I obey."

"Is that something you can't fight?" I ask, eyes trailing up and down his body, "Like a magical side effect stops you?"

"No, it's an honour thing-" Azriel stops short, recognising my intention, "Okay, I know you're doing this on purpose now"

"So what?" I whisper, "It's not like I'll tell them anything...and there's no one out here to witness for at least a few hours."

"Hours?" Azriel chuckles, "What makes you think you can handle that?"

Cocky now, huh?

"I'm almost certain I probably can't...but I'm more than willing to try."

Azriel's erection grows larger, pressing insistently upon my upper thigh, "Y/N...I can't"

"Yes you can" I say, "Something tells me you're just as good at getting in your own way as Feyre and Rhys are. I'm more than capable of making my own decisions and I would be lying if I said this isn't one of the fantasies I've used to help me out when I'm alone."

The sound of Azriel's teeth grinding against each other makes me smile. I don't know where this sudden confidence came from - perhaps from knowing how badly he also wants this. Maybe it was fate's way of making something that was always supposed to happen, happen. By removing my nervousness and forcing Azriel to think his way out of his own mental purgatories.

Azriel, still fighting his own mental battle, pants softly and I lean forward, trailing a long line up his neck and along his jawline with my tongue. My hand drifts up, reaching for the tender inside of his wing-

"Don't. Do. That" Azriel grits out, hand gripping my wrist and pushing it back against the wall, up above my head, the other arm quickly following, "Don't start something you can't finish."

"Who said I wasn't planning to finish?" I smirk

"Gods, you'll be the death of me" Azriel sighs, leaning closer to me. I could already tell the battle was lost, he was just clinging to the last scraps of will he had left.

"What was that you said earlier? That you would 'fall at my feet and beg for just one moment between...' What were you going to say?" I tease

"Shut the fuck up" Azriel growls, his lips pressing to mine.

Masterlist

[storiesforallfandoms]

lock the door ~ ben hargreeves;the umbrella academy

word count: 990

request?: yes!

“Yay requests are open! Your writing is amazing and you are one of my favs. I was wondering if I could request a ben hargreeves imagine with some smut. That boy has my heart and I need more imagines with him. If not then maybe something a lil steamy with him. Thank you”

description: in which he forgets to lock the bedroom door, and their least favorite (or favorite, depending on who you ask) sibling walks in

pairing: ben hargreeves x female!reader

warnings: swearing, slight smut

masterlist

One of the perks of having a huge house that was usually empty was having multiple options of where to get intimate without the fear of getting caught. Your and Ben’s choice for the day: the shower.

You guys were sure it was the safest place to go. No one walked into a bathroom with the shower going, even if the door was unlocked. As long as the two of you remained quiet enough so that anyone who may come home couldn’t hear you, you were set for at least 40 minutes - an hour if the hot water cooperated.

That’s where you found yourself on that particular day: your legs wrapped around Ben’s waist, his dick deep inside of you as he lifted you up and down on him, the still boiling hot water raining down on your back.

Your head was against Ben’s shoulder, his bare skin pulled between your teeth as you tried to muffle your moans. Your slight biting was causing Ben to let out low groans into your ear.

Suddenly, you both heard the doorknob turn and the bathroom door squeak open. Ben was quick to hold you to him and you quickly buried your head in his neck in order to keep any accidental sounds from coming out.

“Ben, you’ve been in here for so long, I gotta piss,” came Klaus’ voice.

Ben rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. "There’s like a million bathrooms in this place.”

“There’s two, only one of them has an actual toilet and it’s this one.”

Ben let out a frustrated noise. “Okay, just...just give me a minute, okay? I’m almost done.”

“No man, I can’t wait! I gotta pee now!”

You tried not to giggle as you heard Klaus opening the toilet seat lid.

“No Klaus!” Ben snapped. “Just get out!”

“Why?!”

“Because I don’t wanna listen to you taking a fucking piss!”

Suddenly, Ben’s grip faltered for just a second, causing you to slip. In a moment of fear, you let out a squeal and tightened your grip around Ben’s neck, trying to keep yourself from falling. Ben put a hand on the wall to steady the both of you, holding you tighter with his other hand.

There was a moment of silence. There was no way Klaus didn’t hear the sound you made, and there was no way he’d ever think it could possibly be Ben. He definitely knew, and knowing Klaus, he’d never let you or Ben live that down.

“Okay,” Klaus finally said. “I’ll go pee outside. You can finish your...shower. I’ll lock the door behind me so no one else walks in on your...shower.”

The door basically slammed behind him, but you could still hear Klaus’ laugh on the other side.

Ben helped pulled you off of him and gently set you down on the shower floor. Your legs were so wobbly from pleasure and from lack of use you had to sit on the floor. The two of you looked at each other for a long time, sending each other a silent message as Ben reached to turn the shower off: the mood was effectively ruined.

The two of you dried yourselves off and re-dressed. You were dreading stepping out of the bathroom and having to face Klaus.

“Maybe he left the house,” Ben said. “Maybe he went to meet up with his other junkie friends and we can get out before he comes back.”

“You’d have to come back eventually, Ben, you live here,” you reminded him.

“I could stay with you.”

“You could, but Klaus is your brother. You can’t run from him forever.”

Ben looked as though he were thinking for a moment before finally letting out a sigh of frustration and opening the bathroom door. A rush of cold air filled the warm bathroom as you followed Ben out and to his room.

On the way to his room, you heard a door open - Klaus’ door. You both shared another look before turning to look at Klaus.

“Have a nice shower you two?” he asked, a smirk on his face.

“Fuck off, Klaus,” Ben retorted. “You better not breathe a word of this to anyone.”

Klaus shrugged. “Who would I tell that would actually listen? Luther and Allison are too busy sucking face, Diego doesn’t give a shit, Five is too young to hear that stuff, and Vanya...well Vanya also doesn’t give a shit. Pogo may want to know, just so he doesn’t accidentally walk into anything he doesn’t wanna see like I did.”

“Don’t you dare tell Pogo,” Ben hissed.

You put a hand on his shoulder to try and calm him down. He looked down at you and you offered him a small smile. He smiled back and allowed you to step away from him, approaching Klaus.

“You’re not gonna tell anyone about what you saw, Klaus,” you told him. “Not your siblings, not your robo-mom, and certainly not Pogo. You hear me?”

Klaus raised an eyebrow at you. “And why wouldn’t I do that?”

“Because if you do I will rip your nuts off and shove them down your own throat, do I make myself clear there?”

Klaus’ eyes widened and his legs crossed. He nodded, unable to get his voice to work, before turning back into his room and slamming the door shut. Ben’s eyes were just as wide as Klaus’ had been, but the smile on his face was more impressed than Klaus’ had been.

“That was so hot,” he said, approaching you and kissing you again. “I think I’m definitely in the mood again.”

You giggled and kissed him again, your moment being ruined as Klaus called, “Go to your fucking bedroom this time!”

The two of you laughed as Ben swept you up in his arms and carried you to his room, far away from Klaus’ room and making sure to lock the door behind him this time.

[sneezefiction]

my turn

atsumu x reader

desc: you get a back massage from a gremlin your fiancé

a/n: @gahdam-beb hollz, thank you bunches for this cuteness! he absolutely would give good back massages. may or may not have gotten super carried away here – i meant for this to be like,, 200 words. not proofread & it’s all lowercase :,)

warnings: language, mentions marriage, mentions stabbing (i promise this entire fic is pure fluff though)

wc: 1.3k

—

so maybe the couch isn’t the best place to sprawl out on.

but you could hardly make it through the apartment door, much less all the way to your bedroom.

a leg dangles limply off the side of the worn-down sofa while the rest of your body merges with the cushion. the smell of pizza from last night’s takeout lingers on the soft material. an air conditioner unit whirs on and a chill streams across your skin, making your hairs stand on end.

unfortunately, all the throw blankets are either in the dryer or on your bed. and your fiancé? well, Atsumu is nowhere to be seen.

you sigh into a pillow.

it’s not every day you feel deprived of his presence. the blond is a lot to handle and he has a habit of bringing chaos with him wherever he goes, whether it’s a quick jaunt to the kitchen or across the country at a volleyball game.

but you can’t help but miss Atsumu, his chaos included. you’re quite endeared to him, actually.

i mean, there’s certainly a reason you’re wearing that silver engagement ring.

but right now it’s not just him that you’re missing. it’s those warm hands of his.

they tickle and prod and they’re not the softest things in the world... but they sure make for a back’s best friend. if you could wish for anything right now, it would be a back massage — for someone to rub and smooth away the tension of another long day.

but he’s not supposed to be back for another hour.

you shut your eyes, choosing to nap until he eventually walks through the door... but a tapping outside keeps your ears perked at attention.

the steps grow heavier in the corridor and, alongside that noise, your heart starts to thrumb louder too. you got off work early and your neighbors don’t typically come home til late... so you’re definitely not expecting anyone.

soon you realize the footsteps are just outside your door.

your heart jumps as the door clicks open and, from it, a rather refreshed-looking Atsumu emerges.

you thank the couch gods that it’s just him.

you would’ve rather been stabbed than defend yourself — you’re too tired to deal with that bullshit. but you’re glad that the universe hadn’t sealed your fate just yet.

“i’m home,” he calls, drawling out the words, “did ya miss me?”

you acknowledge him with a pitiful groan into the couch. it was an attempt at saying “yes” but even you aren’t sure of the unholy sound you just made.

“i don’t speak gremlin,” he chuckles.

you lift your head, shooting him a look.

“that’s unfortunate since you pretty much are one,” you say, dryly.

his jaw drops.

“i’m gonna tell ‘Samu you said that. we have the same face, y’know.”

okay, maybe you should be a little nicer if you want him to put his hands all over you... in a nonsexual way... at least for right now.

you don’t respond to him.

but that doesn’t stop him from talking.

“did somebody have a bad day?” his voice is high and he juts a lip out, taunting you.

you frown violently (if that’s at all possible). yes, he’s joking, but his face looks a fraction more slappable now.

“not particularly,” is your somewhat honest answer.

he shrugs off his jacket, the fabric tussling as he tosses it onto a wooden coat rack. there’s a clink of keys and the plop of a wallet on the countertop.

soon, those heavy steps you heard from outside are treading in your direction until he reaches the corner of the couch – right where your face is. without any hesitation, he sinks into a squat until you’re at eye-level with the giant.

you don’t move an inch, but even though you’re irritated, you kind of wanna kiss him.

“you’re home early,” you mumble, instead of grabbing his face and crashing your lips into his.

Atsumu tilts his head, “i wanted to surprise ya ‘cus i knew you’d be off early.”

he looks annoyingly attractive under the dingy living-room light. where are his dark circles? why are there no wrinkles on his forehead?

you, on the otherhand, probably look like a sloth on its last leg... arm? sloth appendages are confusing and you’d rather not think about that right now.

“is there anything i can do for ya?” he asks, softening at your grumpy expression.

yes.

“no.”

why are you making this difficult for yourself? it’s obvious you’re not doing too hot... and you really want that back massage – your muscles are practically screaming at you for relief.

he leans in closer, brushing his knuckles across your exposed cheek. they’re gentle on your skin.

“are ya sure?” he asks, his voice just above a whisper.

okay, sometimes he’s sweet. but only sometimes.

“can... you give me a massage?” you mumble through pouting lips.

a gentle smile forms on his lips, “yeah.”

he stands, long legs replacing the space where his face once was. Atsumu then shuffles to your side, but it takes him a moment to get situated.

the couch dips as he places a knee on either side of you, straddling your hips. Atsumu makes ass-to-ass contact. the most romantic of positions.

you squeal as he crushes you beneath him.

“oh, c’mon i’m not that heavy,” Atsumu snorts.

“says the guy who’s not actively being squashed into a couch.”

although you’d rather this than the burning ache under your skin.

he grumbles under his breath, but you choose to ignore it. suddenly, fingers are pressing deeply into your upper back and grazing your shoulder blades.

a quick gasp escapes your lips and you instantly regret it.

his deep chuckle shakes his body and, in turn, yours too. thankfully, his lips stay sealed.

you wish you could see that little smirk of his, as much as it bugs you, while he works his magic on your tight shoulders. there’s something so charming about that lopsided grin – it’s part of why you love him so much.

he adjusts again, accidentally kneeing you in the side.

“shit! be careful,” you jolt, warning him.

he smooths a hand down your hip and mutters out a genuine “sorry,” atoning in both word and deed.

in doing so, a metallic coolness brushes against an exposed patch of skin, making you shiver. you peek over your shoulder to see what it is.

it’s the ring on his finger...

and suddenly you can’t fuss at him anymore.

instead, warmth travels steadily throughout your body and his palms burn against your skin.

how can you be marrying him and still flush over the silliest things? in your defense, the ring is a relatively new thing in your relationship. it throws you for a loop anytime you catch sight of it.

Atsumu kneads firmly into the tissues, loosing stubborn knots and waking up your tired skin. his hands are large and stable; like a potter to unshaped clay, the digits mould and shape and indent.

slowly, but surely, your body relaxes and your mood lifts. a soft, virtually undetectable smile is on your lips.

Atsumu could be hellish and rude and a brat about the oddest things. he’s pretty gross and always tries to hug you when he’s dripping sweat. you’re also certain, positive, without a shadow of a doubt sure that he’s the more disagreeable twin.

but you’re probably the only person who can put up with him.

and he, you.

it’s a good thing you found each other... and even better that you can both give great back massages. it’s likely that’s what’s preserving your relationship.

hopefully, that same tactic works in marriage too.

you hum to yourself and your eyes, already drooping, finally close. Atsumu softens his touch, tracing the curves and contours of your body, lulling you into a hazy state.

Atsumu, rough and tumble as he is, could be gentle when he wanted to be — a side of him that easily made you see stars and super novas where only golden eyes and blond strands exist.

at some point, you think you feel a ghost of a breath against your skin.

maybe even a pair of lips pressing to your neck? you’re a little too out of it to tell.

but as soon as you find yourself drifting off, his hands peel away from you. it’s like you just lost a piece of yourself because you’re desperately searching for that missing warmth.

you whine in protest, turning to face the cruel man. after such a long fucking week, he chose to stop. and you were almost asleep too.

but that bastard.

that disgustingly adorable bastard.

he’s smiling as wide and bright as the milky way. there’s not even a hint of guilt.

“my turn,” he directs through a waggish grin.

alright, he’s slappable again.

—

[dinpascal]

Little, Green Stinker — Din Djarin

Summary: Grogu, at the wise, young age of fifty years, was actually quite the matchmaker. 

The more time you spent with the Mandalorian’s tiny, green foundling, the more you began to understand how genuinely intelligent he was. Though he still had difficulty in the language department, it was as if he excelled in every other category. 

It began with simple things, such as a particular object being discussed and he would gesture or look in the direction of the said object. As you and the Mandalorian discussed where to head to next, still on the run from the baby’s captors, you made a passing comment about the sun and how blistering it’s rays were on this particular planet. The majority of it was filled with sand, though was less barren than Tattooine. The Child chittered at your feet, previously occupied with drawing various shapes in the sand but now very clearly requesting your attention. 

As you looked down at him, expecting he was wanting validation for his newest drawing, you were surprised to find his arm lifted and clearly gesturing towards the sky — exactly where one of the planet’s two suns sat. In clear surprise, a few unintelligible words spilled from you as you attempted praise, causing the Mandalorian’s attention to lift from the map between you. 

It took him no time at all to catch himself up to speed.

“Yes!” You exclaimed, briefly turning to meet his gaze before back to the baby. “That’s the sun!”

With clear affection, the Mandalorian also praised him with, “Good job, kid” before returning his attention back to the map. 

However, as time progressed, it became more than just associating objects with words. He soon began contributing to conversation. When he’d make grabby hands towards the compartment he knew held the food, you’d off-handedly ask if he was hungry, never truly expecting a response. 

When you stood to unlock the compartment (now locked so the little rascal could no longer get in it himself), you caught movement out of the corner of your eye.

“Did... Did you just nod at me?”

Grogu nodded once more, watching you with an expectant look that very clearly said, ‘can I get my food now?’. Nearly tripping over something in your excitement, you immediately turned towards the ladder to the cockpit and struggled to simultaneously keep yourself on your feet. “Mando! Mando, he just nodded at me!”

As you and the Mandalorian celebrated his newest achievements, Grogu gave you both the uncanny impression he was not as impressed with you both as you were with him. 

With each year, however, you began to notice just how bright he was. When the Mandalorian would climb into the cockpit after bathing, both you and the Child idling in the pilot’s chair, you quickly stood and offered the man a smile. Grogu, secured in your arms, babbled happy nonsense and offered a semblance of a wave towards his adopted father.

“We don’t have much longer until we’ll arrive.” He told you, settling himself in his seat and pressing a few buttons. Grogu then wiggled in your hold and you quickly relinquished and set him gently onto his feet. 

As if saying goodbye, he offered a quick coo before disappearing down the ladder, promptly leaving you and the Mandalorian alone. The latter hadn’t seemed to notice, still busying himself with the ship and keeping his hands busy. 

“I’m thinking he may speak soon.” You told him, gently smiling as you recalled your newest activity — drawing clouds, oceans, anything around you that he could indicate towards and show his understanding. 

The Mandalorian gave no indication he’d heard you, leaning slightly forward to secure the little, silver ball his foundling seemingly held a keen obsession for. After a moment, he drew you from your own thoughts. “You have quite a relationship with him.” He paused, leaning back into his seat and seemingly admiring the stars laid out in front of you both. You missed the slight tilt of his helmet, just enough so he could watch you from the corner of his eye. “He’s seemed happier. Since you’ve joined.”

You twisted your hands together, mostly to give yourself something to do. Just being in his simple presence, seemingly with his full attention, frayed at your very nerves. “He’s very, very special.” You softly exclaimed, smiling fondly at just the thought of the little thing. 

Perhaps, without the helmet, you would have noticed the way his eyes softened as he admired you. Or the way that once he looked at you, it was almost impossible to look away. 

The little swamp rat’s true intentions weren’t discovered for sometime, however. 

As time went on, Grogu would make himself more and more scarce each time you and the Mandalorian were in near proximity. When the Mandalorian would return with a quarry, clearly in need of some aid with a few injuries, his adopted son would abruptly fall sleepy and whine until you bundled him up and deposited him safely into his hammock. When you’d request an extra day on a particular planet, where the sunsets were splashes of purple twisted with a cool blue, Grogu would hobble off to the side to begin collecting new rocks for his collection and leave the two of you to admire the view alone. 

Unsurprisingly, it was the Mandalorian who noticed first.

“I don’t think we’re giving him enough credit.”

His voice drew your eyes, busy trying to scrub the stains out of the baby’s little gown. Occasionally, he would run by squealing and cooing as he chased a butterfly, as naked as the day (you assumed) he was born. “What do you mean?”

His gaze followed Grogu, perched on a box and idly rubbing a cloth over one of his blasters. It was incredibly domesticated, the two of you doing two various “household” activities while your son kept himself gleefully occupied. “Perhaps he’s growing more independent.” He began, helmet momentarily flicking in your direction before back to the green baby. “He was once much more needy. Didn’t particularly like being in a room on his own.”

You hummed your agreement, recalling some of the earliest memories you had with the two of them. Grogu almost always was no more than five feet from one of you. 

“I think he’s purposely leaving us alone.”

You nearly dropped the board you’d been scrubbing against. Grogu purposely leaving you and Mando alone? Why on earth would he—, “He wants his parents to be together.” You reasoned, seemingly everything immediately slipping into place at that moment. Of course he’d want his momma and papa to be together. “Do you really think he understands that much?” 

A soft noise filtered through his modulator and you’d spent enough time with him to know it was either a sigh or a hum. “It wouldn’t surprise me.” 

You sighed and rose to set out the tiny robes to dry, sleeves dripping from where they’d accidentally slipped into the water. “Well, what are we going to do about it?” A warm, secure touch circled your wrist, drawing you close enough to where he could comfortably reach you with both hands. You silently sucked in a breath, cheeks instantly flaming and suddenly forgetting how to think properly. 

He drew your sleeves into both hands, seemingly unaffected by the water beginning to soak through the worn leather he wore on both. He twisted the cloth until the remaining water fell onto the sand at your feet, repeating the process at your other sleeve. “What will we do about it?” He parroted softly, fingers now brushing the exposed skin at your wrist. 

You swallowed, doing your upmost to ignore the flutters building in your stomach and the shocks of electricity shooting up your spine and into your fingertips. “Well, I... We...?”

He hummed a gentle sound of amusement, taking pity on your attempts at speaking and rising to his feet. He brushed a finger against your cheek, hardly a touch but feeling like so much more.

“We’ll take it one day at a time... for the Child’s sake.” 

For some reason, you knew the last part of his sentence wasn’t true. Perhaps it was the way he seemed to linger close to you for a breath, before tapping the underside of your chin and disappearing into the Razor Crest.

That little, green stinker.

[serodev]

𝐊𝐨𝐤𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐛𝐨 𝐱 𝐠𝐧!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Warnings: Slight angst

Pairing: Kokushibo x gn!reader

Note(s): Aww,, thank you so much for your comment, nonny! It's basically the reason why I started this blog in the first place!

Original ask: Kokushibou is my current comfort character, so may I request him accidentally falling in love with a human? Doesn't matter if it's a drabble or headcanons, I'll love it either way! (PS: I'm so grateful for your posts... there really aren't enough male/gn-reader fics out there. Thanks so much!)

When Kokushibo first became a demon and started killing innocent people, he never thought about how he could end up falling in love with one. Let alone you. It happened by accident - He was supposed to kill you to get some extra energy after a more troublesome night, but the look you gave him made him stop in his place, and he ended up sparing your life, and he couldn't forget you after that.

The feeling he started to feel out of nowhere worried him at first. How could he help Lord Muzan when it felt like his heart was getting squeezed every time he saw someone who resembled you in a way or another? He couldn't do his work if he felt like this, and it actually caused him trouble from time to time because he happened to falter if he remembered the look you gave him. That was also the reason why he ended up tracking you down.

The first thing that you did when you saw the six-eyed demon again was to freeze up. Did he come here to actually kill you? But he looks so sad now. There's no way he's here to kill you when it seems like he needs comfort? — The demon didn't move at all, you noted, which helped you get rid of the first wave of shock that you felt when you first saw him.

"Um... Sir? I know that we didn't exactly part in a good mood, but is there any way I can help you?" You asked him, trying your best to not sound too scared as the man started to walk towards you at a steady pace. You couldn't help but let out a quiet squeal as he stopped right in front of you because he looked so much bigger than he did on the first night when you two met, and your legs almost gave up on you as he set his hand on your cheek. The situation was way too scary for you to internalize it normally, so all you ended up doing as you felt his hand stroke you under your eye was to swallow thickly. "S-Sir..." You spoke up again, but this time you also got an answer.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you."

That was the only thing that the demon said as you built up your courage to look up to him and those six eyes of his. It was close that you would've said anything, but he let out a quiet hum that shut you up, and it didn't take long for him to speak again. "The look you gave me that night when I almost killed you. It looked like you felt sadness towards me, towards the monster I am." The thing he said broke your heart, and you sighed shakily. "I can sense how sad you are. You seem like a person who needs comfort right now." You tried to explain your view the best you could, and you didn't miss the tiny noise he let out as you called him a person instead of a demon or a monster.

"I guess you could say that."

He pulled his hand away from your cheek by this point, and you finally let yourself look at the man more specifically. He was tall, that was for sure, yet he looked so small, like he needed to be in someone's arms, and you were sure that you could probably sneak one hug for him sooner or later on.

"Do you want to have some tea..? I have no idea what you like, but I have some green tea that I can brew for us." You told him, and you leaned slightly to take hold of his hand so that you could escort him to your home. You weren't sure if your eyes were playing tricks on you or if it was the blue light that the moon was shining on the earth, but it looked like the demon blushed slightly.

"Yeah. That sounds good."

Author's note: Thank you so much for sending me this request - I hope that it was what you were looking for! My inbox is closed, but you can still send me a request if you buy me a hot coffee!

[stopeatingwhales]

particles x damon albarn

the lyrics to this song are genuinely so beautiful, like i honestly cannot describe enough how much i adore this song my goodness

Pairing: present day damon x reader

Warnings: none :D

Word count: 1.881

Requested by anon <3

༉‧₊˚✧

It had been two months since I had last seen him. Two whole months since he had set foot in our home; two whole months since he said goodbye to leave for tour. The home that we shared had began to inhabit a sense of eeriness, some nights the walls began to feel as if they were closing in on me, trapping me from any interaction with the outside world, as if to hold me hostage by my own insanity, although other nights the space felt extremely large, almost too big for one person to be able to waste their nights alone in, encapsulating my mind in a constant conflict of obstructive thoughts, forcing me to overthink every tiny detail that was conveyed on the pale stained walls, the wooden floorboards, the arrangement of the furniture, resulting in many a time of me moving around heavy tables and chairs until the image of the room settled my mind’s anxiety. Allowing distance to get in the lines of mine and Damon’s relationship, it was simply uncanny that I was going to miss him; he was the carcass that kept me sane, the being that granted me peace in myself, ease on my mind to prevent such mania from enrapturing my brain, the person that engulfed me into a stupor of adoration and affection that one could never understand the authentic strength until felt - what some perceive as paramour, true love, something so overstimulating that once separated such thing desperation beguiles you to surround yourself with, only a mere sensation of emptiness is all that is felt inside, as if your limbs are damaged, your insides constantly in a state of sickness that you are convinced you’re in need of some form of professional assistance, but it is simply the alchemy, the poison of the apprehension that captivates you from the estrangement from your significant other. Though that wasn’t to say that wasn’t proud of Damon; I embraced fondness and admiration for everything that he did and was so dedicated in doing, his talent and immense knowledge for the art form that speaks to you demonstrated his ability to move millions of people, uniting as one in concerts, all touched from the same, simple string of melodies, proving his true gift and genius that is inside his brain.

I tried to pry my thoughts away from the excitement that had been seeping into my veins from the fact that he was returning home today, in an attempt to focus my mind on whatever had been showing on the television, but there was no use. To be cradled in his arms was all that I had longed, the thought clouding my brain almost every single night that I had thrown my body onto the linen sheets, trying to wrap my body around the duvet to replicate the specific warmth that had enveloped my body when in his arms, his body completely dominating mine, his hands running through my hair gently, apologising with a kiss on the top of my head when he accidentally pulled too roughly, my face buried in his chest as a blush would suddenly creep onto my cheeks, our embrace fulfilling me with a nest of blooming butterflies in my body, a poignant sensation of nervousness and reverence for the man that had me cooped up in his arms, the same feelings that would embody you whilst walking past your first crush during primary school, accidentally brushing your hands against one another’s, sending your mind into overdrive as if to think that the person was the love of your life. Such emotions never left, and I doubted that they ever would; supposing that is true love, he could make me feel like a little girl squealing over her teenage idol because of how perfect he was, just from being himself.

“I’m home, love,” I heard a voice call out in the hallway, accompanied by the soft slam of the front door, the tone of voice lacing a certain amount of raspiness, perhaps from a cigarette that had just been inhaled. My head instantly turned to the door of the living room, eyes settling upon the sight of Damon, who had a small grin curved on his lips, his gaze captured with joy and desire, perhaps from gratification towards the understanding that the tour had finally ended, as well as the fact that he was able to finally see me once again - my expression equally reciprocating his happiness. Instantly jumping from my seat on the couch, I rushed over to him as I threw my arms around him, resting my ear against his chest, listening to the soft pattern of his heartbeat. As usual, his arms wrapped around my figure, tightly embracing my body, the swarm of butterflies breaking out of their cocoons, my limbs growing weak from the recognisable thrill of affection that I had desired for far too long, and had sadly not received. Feeling his lips grazing against the top of my head made my mind go fuzzy, my cheeks flushing a heat that made me feel as if I was under the beating warmth of the sun during the summer months. This is what he does to me. “How’ve you been darling? I see you’ve rearranged the place, again.” he mumbled into my head of hair, my mind still relishing in the pleasure of being in his arms again.

“I’ve missed you,” I replied, reluctantly pulling my arms away from the embrace, in order to gawk at him. A gentle chuckle rumbled from his throat, though his features accentuated pity, understanding how I must’ve felt being away from him for so long. Lightly taking hold of one of his hands, I dragged his arm, guiding him to the sofa, where both of us sat next to each other. “You were gone for so long!”

“I know love, I’ve missed you so much,” he replied, squeezing my hand in reassurance. “At least I’m not gone for any longer though.” he added, his lips curving slightly as I nodded, a similar grin planted on my lips.

“How was the tour then?” I asked, pulling his arm to wrap it around my shoulders, my body already aching for more attachment to him. “The videos I’ve seen online made it look very good.”

“It was great, honestly. Loved every bit of it.” he replied, the grip on my shoulder tightening as he attempted to haul me closer to him. Humming in agreement, I placed my head on his shoulder, cradling the moment we shared together, the moment that I had imagined and adorned each and every night he was absent, cherishing every single time that he was able to be in my presence. I depended on him greatly, as did he, and though that may be a toxic strand which can only result in turmoil; our appreciation for one another held such poise that it would draw us closer together each and every time we had conjoined together after months of being separated. “I’ve actually got something to show you.” he added, shifting from our hug and slowly stepping to his feet, taking his hand in mine, his soft but coarse palms gripping onto mine ever so slightly, urging me to stand up too. “Come with me.”

Following him closely, we headed towards his studio. I had forgotten the last time that I had set foot in it; usually I would leave Damon to work on his craft alone, since having me prance around messing with all sorts of instruments and controls wasn’t going to provide much assistance. As well as that, sitting in the room, knowing that he was away and would be for many days on, would only make me yearn for his presence more, which is the last of what I would need when not being able to fall asleep. Though whenever he would call me into the room, he would always show me the most beautifully crafted symphony, in which he would perform it so effortlessly, as if it was simply created from the top of his head at that moment. Talent like his was so scarce; it would only prove to me that it’s something you are gifted with at birth, like an extremely high intelligence quotient - he always had ideas running through his mind, melodies that would be formed from a simple tap of the table in front of him. It was a wonder in the fact that he seemingly never got burned out with creating music, it was evidently his passion, and it touched me that he would constantly ask me for my opinion on his music, as it always resonated with him, always held such importance.

When we walked inside the studio, I followed him to the grand piano that was standing by the corner of the room. I kept my body upright, behind him, as he pulled out the black stool underneath, moving it back slightly in order for him to sit on it. “Over the tour, I had some free time, so I wrote this song, it’s called Particles,” he began, his voice quiet, as if it were intertwined with a certain anxiousness about what he was about to perform. “It’s still a work in progress, but I wanted to know what you thought of it.”

As I admired his fingers softly grazing the elegant, pale keys of the piano, the melody that in which played forth me instantaneously sufficed me in a trance, bewilderment encompassing my my mind as I listened to the sounds of the alluring chords echo throughout the room, bounce off the walls, the waves of noise crafting mountainous regions of goosebumps to prickle on the bare skin exposed from my forearms. Sculpted with such elegance and formality, my mouth fell agape as he played with such ease - in that significant moment, I was subdued to his music, hypnotised into his magnificence; I could do nothing, absolutely nothing, except admire the grace that fell from his lips once he started singing. As I allowed my gaze to drift onto his face, I gawked at his demeanour, his eyes almost screwed shut, his face almost frozen in place as his body rocked back and forth to the melody that was omitted from the piano. Every word, every string of lines carried a lugubrious essence to it, a tone laced with such beautification; obvious that there were deeper implications behind said lyrics. Each line that escaped his throat exemplified the nature of what earnest fervour, authentic devotion and expertise can embody. Such melody, paired with his voice embodied with pure ethereality, as if I was being greeted by a herd of the most quaint angels, welcoming my soul into the seven heavens. A beam crawled onto my lips, my heart thumping at a million miles per hour from the amount of love I carried in my body for the man in front of me.

Once the song ended, a moment was held in the atmosphere of mere silence, as if to take in all that was felt, all that had vibrated through the sound waves and blessed my ears. Shifting his body so he could connect eyes with me, a gentle, welcoming smile tugged on his lips. “That’s for you.”

[starstudio]

Answering Comments - #1:

Skulk Curiosity

-First comment!

@maladaptive-maniac commented on Abyssal Shriek to silent void:

-Oooo!! I never put much thought into this idea actually-!!

Skulk acts towards lifeblood curiously..

It may leave it be, though it mostly tends to end up leaching off of it -sometimes accidentally killing it.

It eventually ends up being a symbiotically neutral relationship.

The skulk leaches off of the life force of the lifeblood stalks, and the lifeblood gains its life force from the souls that the skulk catalysts harvest. Overall they simply cancel each other out, however under these circumstances they would both live much longer (avoiding wilting from starvation which may be common under certain circumstances)

Both plants are attracted to the other, often growing close by or next to each other. Lifeblood seeds sometimes sleep underneath or within the mangled branches of the skulk roots and stalks, leading to lifeblood growing around the skulk.

Abyssal Wardens view:

Since it’s a plant the Warden doesn’t notice often, however the stalks can rustle around a lot, which may gain its attention; otherwise the Warden leaves it for the skulk to mess with.

Once the skulk establishes its symbiotic relationship with the lifeblood however, it may start harvesting it for itself.

The lifeblood butterflies are far too difficult for the warden to catch regularly, so it tries to ignore them. The lifeblood seeds on the other hand are a bit easier to catch considering that they’re grounded and make a lot more noise, but they are quite evasive, often leading the Warden on wild goose chases, overall obnoxious to the point the Warden gives up on chasing them.

* Hope that answers that well enough! ^w^

* Thanks for commenting this! Ngl, genuinely made me squeal a bit when I first saw it-! x3

* I haven’t doodled anything about this idea in so long! Still love the aesthetic a lot, and adding lifeblood to it just makes it even prettier owo

* I really like how the art came out actually, especially the first two, I’ve gotten very good at quick backgrounds! maybe I’ll even use it as my banner at some point :3

** Did I have to make this into an entire post? Probably not, but I’m far too detailed to answer this without making a mini documentary lol. This was very fun tho úwù

** Also idk how people normally make replies posts here so this is my makeshift attempt at it lmao

[Comment Received: 5/17/2022]

[Total Tracked Time: 2h 7m]

[All Created: 5/17/2022]

[hes-writer]

Errors

Summary; harry comes over for dinner

Warnings: angst and fluff for this one

Word Count: 3234 words

A/N: possibly the last part of the Tarnish series. Thank you for all the support that you have given me and @devilinbetweenthesheet-s. This was a month worth of work and I cannot believe that I was actually consistent with the updates (except for this one, which is 2 days late lol). 

Read till the end for a sneak peek of part 6!!

This is Part Five of the Tarnish series.

____

Harry felt out of place.

As a world-renowned pop star, he was used to being paid a different kind of attention in most of the places he went to. He should be used to it. Harry had to take measures in order not to get recognized for stepping into a local coffee shop. Even in hot weather, his recognizable tattoos gave easy access for fans to whisper amongst each other, wondering if it was the right time to ask for a photo or merely share a conversation with him. 

 His voice--the thing that made him as famous as he is now--was tinted into his fans’ heads. Recognition blaring in their ears when the deep, gruff tone projected the open air. It would be quite disturbing if he had to change the pitch for everyday errands. Harry would rather feel out of place than go to extremes to change who he was. 

 This lifestyle was something that he was used to, having been under the scrutiny of the public eye for a little over a decade now. But Harry knew that Y/N was a small, town girl practically bickered and poked until she was forced to cough something out to taint Harry’s name in vain. From the way, he preferred sniffing his nose into a hanky instead of a Kleenex. The way he snored loudly when his nostrils felt dry. The way his hair isn’t as naturally curly as it appears to be. All of these things were the borderline crossing of his privacy that she could’ve taken to the press, urging in many articles written about his odd habits or preferences.

 Not that he thought Y/N was that type of person to spill secrets in the midst of desperation, but Harry had cheated on her for God’s sake. If she did run her mouth, Harry wouldn’t blame her. He was horrible to her; cheated on her for a year, not even bothering to tell Y/N that his affection was teetering in favour of not hurting her and wanting to keep his side relationship a secret for a taste of adrenaline that came with his less-than boring life. 

 Harry left her alone while she was going through a life-changing period of her life. To be fair, Y/N didn’t actually tell him. She tried, but the message never reached his cognition. Harry wanted to save his salvation by choosing to believe that it was her fault for not visiting him in person to tell him the news. 

 Really though, how could Harry possibly know about her pregnancy if she didn’t make the effort to inform him of his own child. It wasn’t like he was supposed to check in on her, his ex-girlfriend, right? That was unheard of. And frankly, Harry thought that the day everything blew up--when she read the letter meant for Camille; Y/N made it very clear that she did not want to speak to him again. So really, Harry was just respecting her wishes. 

 Y/N was supposed to be the one feeling out of place; not Harry. If only she had told him when she identified the symptoms of pregnancy, he could have helped out. Harry wasn’t sure if he would have left Camille to begin a family with Y/N (if she took him back) or if he was only a parent of support. One that was there for the sake of raising a child but not sharing the means and affection to build a relationship with Y/N. 

 These were Harry’s thoughts as he sat with the family of three. In between Y/N and Connor as they sat on opposite ends of the round table with baby Halo in her high chair and Harry across from her. Halo was staring at him with wonder and curiosity; a shy type of look that tinted her cheeks a tad rosy and her lashes to peer at the man adjacent to her, wondering why he was joining them in their family dinner. 

 Harry felt out of place.

___

 “What’s wrong, baby?” Connor asked, feeding the child a spoonful of peas. “Not usually like this,” She shook her head, tucking her arms together and pursing her lips inwards in a sign of rejection. 

 Halo looked at Y/N who was giving her a soft smile, then to Harry. “She’s not usually like this. She must be shy that you’re here tonight, Harry,” Y/N explained, a tone of indifference that she tried to mask to help Halo feel a little more comfortable. 

 Harry gulped heavily. His child was uncomfortable because of him. He almost felt guilty for wanting to scoop her up and canoodle Halo in his arms. Harry still hadn’t had the chance to do that. 

___

 When the door opened earlier this evening, Harry was met by Y/N’s furrowed brows, firmly reminding him that this dinner was for him to be slowly introduced into Halo’s life. Harry would get the chance to care for her by helping the child with her nighttime routine. That included brushing her teeth, tucking her in, a bedtime story and possibly a kiss on the forehead. 

 Harry was giddy, to say the least. Harry was confident with kids and could easily mould into what they needed. If they wanted him to pretend to be a car while they jumped on his back as they grasped onto his curls to steer him, he would. If Harry was instructed to be a pretty princess with a plastic tiara on his head, he would exaggeratedly lift a pinky up to play the part. It was easy for him to win the hearts of his little nieces and nephews because they were familiar with him. They knew him as ‘Uncle Harry’ who gave them gifts whenever he came over to visit or if there was a large family reunion.

 He couldn’t exactly do that with Halo. She was familiar with him, yes. However, the one time they interacted, Harry had made her cry. It didn’t sit right with him that tears sprung from her corneas when she was only trying to make him feel better, sensing that her parents wanted nothing to do with him.

 It wasn’t like Harry knew what she liked either. Did Halo like playing with dolls? Animals? Race cars? The most basic of things, Harry didn’t know. What was her favourite colour? When was her birthday? His resumé was already tarnished since he wasn’t present when her mother fell pregnant. Then, he missed her first steps, her first words. He was just a stranger to her.

 And it showed from the way he stepped foot into the kitchen.

 Harry heard her before he saw her. Tiny squeals and giggles fell from her mouth as Connor chased her around with plates grasped in his hands. Y/N had scolded the man for getting distracted instead of setting the table. Halo’s noises quieting down when she caught sight of the familiar yet unfamiliar man loitering the doorway.

 “‘M sorry, love. Halo wanted to play,” Connor gripped her waist to pull Y/N closer to him, pressing a kiss to her cheek as she fought off a smile from splintering her face. “Right, cutie?”

 “Wanted to play! Sowwy mama,’ Halo apologized, tugging on her pant leg. 

 That was when Harry realized the possibility of ruining the little family they had in the words. But this was supposed to be his in the first place so he couldn’t care less if he wrecked it. As selfish as it may be, Harry thought that there was meaning in him accidentally hearing Gemma’s conversation with Y/N. Sure, it was bound to happen, but it couldn’t have come at a better time. The hole in his heart caused by Camille’s confession of not wanting kids was growing each day, accentuated by the late-night trip to the grocery store and seeing the small baby clothes that took up half of his palm. 

 It was a sign, right? He felt like he was drowning in a relationship that had no future and the next day, he was met with Y/N and their baby. 

___

 Symbolism. As a writer, it was absolutely crucial to introduce some sort of word, item, place, or person and infuse it with impeccable meaning. Irrefutable to the point that that noun is and will be what the writer makes of it. 

 Round tables were supposed to be better at sprouting conversations than rectangular or square tables. Any conversation between a pair must be shared with everybody who sat around it. There was no room to quietly snicker or ration secrets. Yet somehow that theory was not working. At all.

 Harry felt like an intruder sitting in a table that never held more than three people because it was always just them: Y/N, Connor and Halo. As the child got more comfortable with his presence, she slowly started babbling incoherent and coherent words alike, conversing with her ‘parents’ as they asked her about her day at daycare. Y/N asked about Connor’s day at work and the latter reciprocated the question which she was currently answering. 

 “It wasn’t as busy as I thought,” Y/N shrugged her shoulders, forking a piece of mash. Connor made a sound of recognition, “S’that why you texted me to go home instead?”

 Y/N nodded, helping Halo scoop her own forkful of mash, “Yep, I had time to go to the store. I know that you were swarmed at work,” The couple allotted a loving glance towards each other. 

 Harry’s heart was cracking. He was witnessing what he could have had and He had a front-row seat to it. Was it jealousy? Maybe. He was in a relationship so he shouldn’t feel like swarming Y/N’s smaller frame in his arms, shielding her and baby Halo away from Connor. But he did.

 “What about you, Harry?” Connor questioned him with a kink to his brow. Harry could tell that the question wasn’t sincere, purely out of consideration. 

 In a surprise, Harry coughed a little, reaching out to his cloth to dab the corners of his mouth. Truth to be told, Harry spent the day in a state of anxiety. From the moment he woke up, Harry could feel his chest expanding with nervousness, heart beating loudly and pounding in his ears. He picked at the skin of his lip in the wonder of what he was going to wear. If he should wear cologne or if it will irritate Halo’s senses. He spent the better half of the morning browsing online for toys he could get in a hurry to give to Halo. 

 Harry contemplated cancelling the dinner because of the uneasy feeling boiling in his stomach. Heightened senses and pinched nerves convinced Harry that he could feel the muscles of his esophagus contracted as he swallowed. Lungs punctured with the tip of the pen he was using to scrawl a list of ideas to build a bond with his daughter

 “It was alright,” Harry said warily, “Didn’t really have anythin’ to do today except come here,” 

 Y/N pulled her head back in surprise, “Sorry, we ruined your day off,” 

 His eyes widened immediately. Harry’s usual aura of confidence nowhere to be seen, “N-no, no. I didn’t mean it like that,” He could feel stray curls hitting his cheekbones lightly. “I jus’-- it’s m’break so I haven’t got anything for the next couple of months,”

___

 Harry’s settled nerves were awoken when it was time to clean up. Y/N insisted on doing the dishes with Connor while Harry bonded with Halo. 

 “Remember, you’re doing this for her,” Y/N whispered in his ear, causing shivers to crawl up his spine, “Don’t be nervous, Harry. She’s going to love you,” She added, seeing the way he blinked warily at Halo and Connor. Even going as far as giving him a comforting smile. 

 “Thank you, Y/N--for giving me this,” She nodded in response, jutting her chin downwards.

 “Hawwy? Mama said you gonna help me get to bed?” Halo’s green eyes still shone despite the dim kitchen lighting, reminding Harry that this was his and Y/N’s creation. Throughout the dinner, the child had somehow warmed up to Harry’s presence. With a promise of an ice cream trip after her nursery classes earlier in the morning, Halo was quick to befriend the man who she pointed out: ‘has the same dimple as me!’--while poking a stubby finger to her plush cheek, grinning to showcase it. 

 Harry could feel his heart thud, crouching down to her level, worried of her straining her neck looking up at his tall stature. “Tha’s right. Wanna show me where the bathroom is?” She nodded, grabbing Harry’s index finger to drag him along, exerting his lumbar to keep his height low. He could feel Halo’s feet stumbling, keeping her balance by tightening her grip on Harry. 

 Their time in the bathroom was fairly short. Halo had learned to brush her teeth by herself. She only needed Harry to guide her up the stool so that she could reach the sink, spitting the foam from her mouth when Harry made a funny face in the mirror, giggling loudly that had Harry’s chest feeling light. 

 As they walked through the hallway, Harry couldn’t help but let his ears be numb to Halo’s babbling about her favourite stuffed toy. He didn’t mean to. Instead, his neck craned to the door left agape, assuming that it was Connor and Y/N’s with the way the Gucci shoes that Harry had bought her were neatly placed at the bottom of the foot of the bed. He stared down at his moving feet, mood souring despite the bright colours of his loafers imprinted in a little rainbow--the same ones that he just caught sight off and wavered just as quickly.

 “You like it?”

 He snapped out of his thoughts when Halo climbed on her tiny bed, clutching her favourite stuffed toy. Harry plastered a beaming grin on his face, inspecting the painted room, the small desk pushed against the wall and the numerous artworks taped to almost every surface. 

 One, in particular, had his heart aching more so than it already was.

 It was a hand-drawn stick figure portrait of Y/N, Halo, and Connor. Harry couldn’t even pretend that the skinny, stretched black marker was him because the child messily penned Connor’s name underneath. The figures were holding each others’ hands, oblong faces paired with a curved mouth shaped upwards. It didn’t help that the title at the top was “My Famli” which was crossed over with a red marker and re-titled underneath as “My Family” in neat handwriting that Harry could recognize as Y/N’s. 

 “Hawwy?” She repeated, wondering why he was staring so hard at the drawing taped on her bedside table. Her brows furrowed when a drop of tear fell from his eye and landed on Connor’s head, smudging the ink and making it blurry disarray as Halo gasped. “Oh no!”

 “‘M s-sorry, Halo,” Harry’s tongue felt too thick in his mouth, sobbing threatening to escape but he remembered how that would make his daughter feel. Halo placed her soft hand on top of his.

 “It’s okay, Hawwy. I can do it again,” Her timid voice made his heart flutter. Halo didn’t want Harry to cry again and it looked like he was about to so she scurried in planting her shaky legs on the floor. A blank paper was already stable on her desk, grabbing a marker to draw the ruined project again. She could see Harry’s shadow towering over her, thanks to the light projected by her lamp. 

 Flipping the paper over, Halo giggled, “Go away! Y’cant see it till it’s done,” She used her force to push him backwards which wasn’t a lot so Harry walked backwards until the back of his calves hit her bed frame. “Stay there and play with Honey,”

 As she got back to work, Harry searched for ‘Honey’, finding an oatmeal coloured bear with a pot of honey clutched between its threaded paws. He stared at the plush toy for what felt like forever, wondering how special this must be to her. And how Harry wasn’t the one to have given it to her.

 “Done!” Halo’s timidness returned, hiding the paper behind her back yet Harry heard the slight crumple. 

 Placing the stuffed toy on the bed, he asked, “Are y’gonna show me?” 

 She handed the artwork to Harry while he watched, smiling softly. Halo slapped her palms on her cheeks when Harry turned it over, his breath hitching when he saw the extra figure that she had drawn. 

 Harry. With a head of wild curls and dotted green eyes that appeared more black with the lighting.

 He couldn’t help it when happy tears seared his waterline which Halo mistook for complacence. “You don’t. . .like it Hawwy?”

 “I-I do. I love it, honey,” Harry admitted, chuckling slightly as he patted his upper thigh. She climbed onto the bed with him, the wood creaking beneath Harry’s weight. Halo clumsily climbed on his lap, lifting his heavy forearm so she could sneak between his legs. 

 Harry could feel his nonexistent double chin crowding his neck as he looked down at Halo who was cuddled to his chest, lips turned into a pout, looking at her quick-minute work. “I like it cause you’re there,” She pointed at the ice cream in Harry’s hand before yawning loudly. 

 “You’re sleepy, baby Halo?’

 She nodded, pressing a small hand on his chest. Harry took the initiative to lay the child down on her pillow despite every nerve in his body urging him to stay in that position. But Harry figured that he had probably overstayed his welcome for the night. 

 Harry pressed a passionate kiss to her forehead, caressing her head gently. Sleep eyes stared at him as he pulled her fleece blanket to her chin. “Stay?” She questioned, fists crumpling to clutched the end of the fabric.

 “I can’t, bub,” He informed with regret, shaking his head sadly and his mouth curved downwards. His knee was sore with weight pressed on his knee cap and his lumbar was aching with how he crouched down one too many times this evening, but all pain seemed to disappear when Halo picked up Honey the Teddy Bear from beside her and gave it to Harry. “For me? Thank you,”

 Halo laid back down on her bed, “Mhm,”

 “Why?”

 As a two-year-old, Halo could only say so many words, yet her thoughts went far deeper than her brain could comprehend. That she felt a profound attachment to Harry despite seeing him twice. How pleasant it was to spend even just a small amount of time with him. Harry was nice and gave her forehead kisses and rubbed her head that placed a smile on her face. He cried because he loved her artwork and he apologized when he did something wrong. He contorted his lips into a silly face to make her laugh. He was going to be picking her up from school and Harry said he was going to buy her ice cream tomorrow! 

 “I dunno,” Halo shrugged, peering downwards to avoid eye contact. Harry chuckled heartily, puckering his pink lips to another peck on her forehead, and then both of her cheeks. 

____

let us know what you thought!! Part 6 aka Ruin is already up on Patreon!

RUIN - SNEAK PEEK

“Hate to remind you but Harry left you once before, don’t think he’ll hesitate to do so again,”

She froze at Connor’s words. Y/N was aware that he only said that in good faith, to remind her of how hurt she was at the time and just how long it took for her to be able to finally breathe again. 

One side of Y/N urged to still defend Harry. She wanted to turn and around, yell at him because Connor doesn’t know Harry as she does. Harry wasn’t the type to build a child’s dreams up only for him to personally manhandle the heart and crush it in his fist. There was a reason why he was a godfather to so many kids; Ruby, Arlo and Jackson—because he was capable. Harry was a nurturing father who put himself on the back burner in favour of making sure that the little ones were safe and secured. He had no problem being third if it meant that the kids were first, then Y/N, then him. 

It all sounded so good in Y/N’s head; so well-rehearsed and very well thought out. The monologue that had somehow stuck in the sides of her brain like a script taped to the wall, ready for the time it needed to be recited. The shredded pieces of paper also reminded her that Y/N might’ve known Harry before, but she certainly doesn’t anymore. In fact, she knew just as much as Connor did.

Just like Y/N had grown and evolved into a new person, Harry was not the same guy he once was when they were together. 

“I told him the consequences if he did,” 

Connor pulled back, stepping away from her. “But wouldn’t it be better if we didn’t take that chance? Who knows what he might do. . .” He trailed off, grabbing a dry rag to wipe the water dripping from the dish. 

____

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[thebrochtuarachs]

Something in the Rain - “Interruptions”

A/N: I hope you like it. As always, your comments and suggestions are very much welcome.

A modern day meet cute instance between Jamie and Claire. 

AO3  / C1: A Day In June : C2: Definitely, Maybe : C3: So We Meet Again : C4: Friday Lunch : C5: Finding Solid Ground : C6: Situations

XXXXX

“What should I wear tomorrow?” Claire texted Jamie on the eve of their first official date. She wanted to have an extra time to shop should the need there be. 

“What do ye mean?” he replied. 

“I want to dress appropriately to wherever you’re taking me, James Fraser.”

“I see. Smart casual would do. :) Sorry, I dinna thought of informing ye earlier but wouldn’t it be hilarious if you dressed to the nines and we’re going to some sort of cattle farm”

“Exactly.” Claire replied with the eye roll and laughing emoji. “Can I know where we’re going?”

“Don’t ye want to be surprised?” Jamie messaged back and saw three dots typing afterwards. 

“Hmm, thinking about it, yes. I’m excited to see the Jamie Fraser Date Experience.” 

“Hope it doesna disappoint. I, too, am excited to see the Claire Beauchamp Date Experience. ;)” he replied, knowing the use of emoji will make her smile as he rarely uses one.

“I hope it doesn’t disappoint, too.” she replied with a winky face too. “Are you back in Edinburgh?” 

“Just about to arrive home. I might just wash and then hit the sack.” 

“Rest then, Jamie. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“Thanks, Sassenach. I’ll message ye tomorrow when I’m on my way” 

----

It has been four weeks since their accidental meeting at the sidewalk. After countless run-ins, lunches, and an absurd amount of consumed soy chicken, the day of their date has arrived. 

When Claire accepted his invitation three days earlier, Jamie went into a slight overdrive trying to plan what to do. He meant to ask her out when he got back - but when he found out that she met Laoghaire, something pushed him to go for it before Claire had any wrong idea about his connection with Mrs. Fitz's granddaughter. 

His first idea was to go all out - book the fanciest rooftop restaurant in the city, get the best chef he knew, and plan a private dinner for them. Fancy and exclusive seemed like a safe choice and a sure hit. 

Then he thought about Claire and all their interactions so far - hole in the wall kitchens, asian street food, very light and casual. Jamie pondered on the idea and realized that jumping from that to an uber private dinner might not be the best, so he kept that card to play for later. 

It was then he decided to just take their casual lunch to a casual dinner. He’ll just exchange one-hour savory chicken meetings for a comfortable, popular city restaurant and longer conversations. He also decided on wearing more casual clothes, opting out of his office suits that she’d seen him often in for a navy turtleneck, khaki pants and white sneakers. 

Arriving at her front door, Jamie took one last stock of himself, suddenly feeling a wave of nervousness, and knocked on her door. 

What he saw next knocked him out. 

Claire opened the door wearing a burgundy sleeveless jumpsuit that was both modest and sexy, yet casual enough. Pairing the ensemble with black heels, the garment hugged Claire’s curves in just the right places that left Jamie staring for a hot minute. 

“Hi” Claire broke through his thoughts and he remembered his manners.

“Hi, Claire. Wow, ye look beautiful” 

“Thank you. You’re not so bad yourself. Going to stop traffic pairing blue on blue like that” 

“Ye ready to go?” 

“Yeah. Are we going to walk?” She asked as she locked the door to her place. 

“Yes, I hope ye dinna mind. Ye live close by all the nice places to eat.” 

“No, I don’t mind and also, very true.” 

It was a short 10-minute walk before they arrived at Howie’s Restaurant. 

“Howie’s. Interesting choice.” Claire commented as they walked to the hostess. 

“We can go somewhere if ye dinna like it here.” Jamie offered. 

“No, I actually quite like it here” she had to stifle a laugh at how adorable she found his tenseness was.

The hostess pointed them to the bar to wait for their table. Claire excused herself to the bathroom and Jamie ordered a light whisky for some liquid courage. 

When the bartender served his drink, a familiar bloke sat beside him and greeted him. 

“Jamie Fraser, hello!” 

Jamie gulped the drink and turned to the man beside him. “Joe! It’s good to see ye, man!” 

The two shook hands and exchanged more pleasantries. 

“I’m actually meeting my wife.” He looked at his watch and then to the front door. “Oh, good, she just arrived!” Joe quickly waved her in and introduced her. 

“Jamie Fraser, meet Gail Abernathy. Gail, Jamie.” he paused when Jamie extended a hand to her. “He was the guy who volunteered at our center two weeks ago. All the kids were just drawn to him.” 

“No wonder.” Gail observed, her comment earning a jokey sigh from her husband. “So, Jamie, what brings you to this side of town on a Saturday evening?” 

Jamie was about to share that he was on a date, but then right on cue, Claire arrives to greet the trio. 

“Hello, everyone!” 

“Claire!” Gail squealed as she gave her friend a tight hug. 

“Lady Jane, you clean up good!” Joe remarked. 

As they finished their greetings, Jamie quietly whispered to Claire to order any drink she’d like. The husband-and-wife duo caught on and couldn’t resist to pry. 

“You guys on a date?” Joe asked frankly. 

“First one, actually.” Jamie replied as Gail raised an eyebrow while Claire returned to his side, drink in tow. 

Joe leaned closer to Jamie and pretended to whisper in his ear, “My date advice is don’t challenge her or don’t allow her to challenge you to a drinking game. You will lose” 

Claire groaned while the rest laughed at her expense. 

Just then, the hostess approached the pairs and told them their tables were ready. They exchanged their goodbyes and were led to their areas. 

 ---

Jamie had been a perfect gentleman. 

He opened her seat, allowed her to order and choose whatever she wanted from the menu (They both went to the steak and fries!), and is making just the right amount of banter. 

Claire actually liked this dining choice - Howie’s comfort food really brought out the easy ambiance and conversation to their date. She didn’t mind going to a fancier place but she knew that if they were there, things would be too formal, delicate and shy. This was much better and she’d Jamie props for this. 

Moreover, what made this official first date a little bit more fun is much of the first date awkwardness is gone. They’ve covered much of the basics about their life during their lunches - their families (both their parents are alive and have retired away from the city, Claire’s an only child while Jamie had an older sister), how they chose their careers and where they went to school (Jamie is Oxford Law while Claire is Cambridge Med, the school rivalry something they joke about), their current or main interests (horses for Jamie, herbs for Claire) and many other things.

So the evening was more or less less a continuation on what they’ve normally done - catching up on their days, sharing an interesting story at work or a photo they found on the web, asking more random questions - the only difference now is, there’s a more clear and intentional purpose for knowing these things and whole lot of shameless flirting in between.  

Forty-five minutes in and halfway through their steak, a man approached their table. “Dr. Beauchamp, it’s nice to see you here!” 

Jamie and Claire looked up and saw a slender man, not much older than they are with grey eyes. 

“Tom, hi!” Claire swallowed a fry and grabbed a cloth to clean her mouth. 

“I’m sorry to interrupt your evening but I saw you from the bar and just had to pass by and greet you. I mean at least, this time, not at the hospital or during check ups” 

Claire smiled and made the introductions. “Oh, I’m sorry. Tom Christie, this is Jamie Fraser. Jamie, Tom. He is a teacher at the public elementary school. We met when I did the annual medical checkup for the kids. Also, I’m the peds of his kids, Allan and Malva.” 

The mention of the word kids made Jamie release the tight fist he didn’t know he held beneath the table. He didna like the way the man eyed Claire but it was not his place - not yet at least.

Jamie gave the man a nod but ultimately wished he’d go. When neither said or did anything, Tom said his farewells and confirmed his kids check-up schedule in two weeks. 

---

They decided to share a slice of chocolate cake and one last glass of wine each to cap off their dinner. 

As they waited for their order to arrive, they got startled with a loud noise. 

“Jamie, is that ye?!” one man said.

“Oh, heavens, tis!” another man replied. 

Jamie could not hide the embarrassment he felt as the two blokes approached their table. Once they noticed Claire, they did not waste time introducing themselves. 

“Hello, I havena seen ye before. My name is Angus” the thin, beardly man extended his hand. “And ye are?” 

“Hi, I’m Claire.” she reached out but eyeing Jamie for confirmation that he knew these people. 

“I’m Rupert.” the other man said. “We’re Jamie’s cousins” 

“Distant cousins” Jamie retorted back. “What brings ye here?” he asked while glaring at them to leave. 

“We have a double date” Angus shared, pointing to the table where two ladies were indeed waiting for them. 

“Then I suggest you return to your dates then.” Jamie replied then proceeded to converse with the two men in Gaelic. 

When the conversation was apparently over, Rupert sighed and turned to Claire. “It was nice meeting ye, lass. Please ask Jamie here to bring around one of our office events and meet the rest of the clan. I’m sure they’d love to get to know ye as well.” 

Jamie stood up quickly and had to push the two back to their table before they said anything else that may ruin the evening. 

“I’m sorry about them, Claire. They are quite the more, erm, rowdy members of my family.” he said as he sat down again. 

“It’s alright. They seem really nice” Claire said, smiling. “So, clan huh? Just how big is that family of yours really?” She brought the conversation back up again hoping it would ease his discomfort.

Jamie visibly relaxed and then, they were back in their bubble, “How many generations back?” 

---

Desert went by swimmingly with the chocolate cake and red wine proving to be a winning combo. After an almost three-hour dinner, Jamie asked for the check and insisted on paying for the meal. 

 They were one their way out of the restaurant then Claire was greeted by incoming guests. 

“Dr. Beauchamp!” 

Claire turned to look who called her. “Oh, please call me Claire. It’s nice seeing you here” 

“Likewise. Please call me Meredith.” she quickly signaled to the man beside her. “This is my husband, Derek.” 

“Of course, Dr. Shepherd.” Claire politely acknowledged him with the man insisting to be called casually as well. 

“Anyway, I’d just like to say that I just read your latest paper in the Journal of Pediatrics. I look forward to hearing all about it in your visit to Seattle.”

Claire graciously accepted the complement with a smile and bow. “Thank you. We’ll catch up in Seattle in a few weeks, then.” Remembering her companion, she turned to her back where Jamie was patiently waiting for her. “Oh my, where are my manners. Meredith, Derek, this is Jamie Fraser. Jamie, this is Meredith and Derek Shepherd. They’re visiting doctors from Grey Sloan Memorial in Seattle.” 

Jamie returned the pleasantries and shook hands with the doctors. 

“Alright, I’ll let you guys go on with your evening. Sorry for the sudden call out” Meredith said. 

“It’s no problem at all. A good night to you both as well.” Claire replied as she looked at Jamie and motioned for them to head out. 

--

Once they we're out of the restaurant, Jamie lets out a light laugh. 

“What’s so funny?” she asked. 

“I was just thinking that I’d never unexpectedly run into that many acquaintances in one evening, let alone in a date!” he shared, chuckling more as the thought further sank in his mind and Claire joined him in his mood. “It isna exactly part of the Jamie Fraser Date Experience” 

“I’m really sorry.” 

“Don’t be, there’s nothing to apologize for. I mean, who would’ve thought, right?” Jamie retorted, his humor infectious. 

She was touched by his honesty, not just with the situation but the entire night. He was caring, makes great conversation, and is always authentic with who and how he carries himself. She cannot make a full judgement of his character yet, as that is something she is still getting to know, but she likes what she is seeing so far. 

Taking a bold step, she wrapped her arm around his as they started walking side by side back to her place. 

Jamie looked at her hand, smiled and hoped it conveyed to Claire the joy he felt at the moment. “Is this part of the Claire Beauchamp Date Experience?” he asked nonchalantly. 

“Only to a rare few” she said as she slightly tugged him closer. 

The walk back seemed shorter than the one they did earlier. Before they knew it, they were already standing in front of Claire’s building. 

“Oh, before I forget!” Jamie exclaimed as he fished out his car keys and a grey miata lit up open beside them. He pulled out an exquisite posey bouquet of red roses and handed it to her. “These are for you.” 

Claire took them and smelt it, “The flowers are beautiful” 

“I hope ye had a good time, Sassenach” 

“I had a great time, Jamie. Thank you” 

After a beat, Jamie took a deep breath, gathering strength to what he was about to say next. “Claire, we’ve known each other for about a month now, became unexpected friends in a short amount of time, had our lunches and now, our first date. I hope ye dinna think this is too forward of me but...I like you and I would like to see you again or keep seeing you, I guess.“ They we’re holding each other’s gazes as he laid out his intentions and waited for her reply. 

Claire sighed and was just amazed by him. Her previous encounters are usually with male friends who constantly hang out with her then a few months down, asks her “what they are” as if she had to know or feel that something was happening from the get go. So, Jamie's forthrightness and old-fashionedness was truly refreshing and she was more than willing to give it a go. 

As a final check to their chemistry, she stepped closer, tilted her head and leaned in to him. Quickly responding to her actions, he held her face on one hand and placed the other on her hips to pull her closer. He followed her lead until their lips crashed into each other in a single deep kiss.

In that moment, both Jamie and Claire knew something big shifted in the dynamic of their relationship. 

This was not usual. 

This is different.

And oh so good.

They felt each other smile against their lips just as they pulled apart for air. 

“I like you too, Jamie and yes”

--

A/N: Maybe not the first date you might've thought of but hope you liked it! As always, thank you for reading! Your comments, suggestions, and questions are always welcome. If there's a story or scene you'd like to know, feel free to drop it! :)This was my original idea for the date but as I was writing it, I was going back and forth about scraping the entire thing and think about something else. But the original thought kept developing in my mind so I went back and stuck with it and cross-fingers, hoped it worked and made sense. I knew she had doctor friends but adding the Greys Anatomy characters just came about since I've been binging the show and thought it'd be fun to crossover. Hope you're keeping safe and in line to get vaccinated for the COVID-19 shot! See you all in the next one!

[cotncandyboifics]

A Lovely Night: Chapter 3

AO3 Link

Masterpost

Chapter 1 ~ Chapter 2 ~ Chapter 4 ~ Chapter 5 ~ Chapter 6

Pairing(s): pre-established roceit & prinxiety, anaroceit, eventual anaroloceit, eventual intruality

Word count: ~2k

Story summary: Roman's boyfriends had had a rivalry since before either of them had actually met Roman. Running a bit late to a date night, Roman accidentally gets them to start dating too.

General CW: non-detailed description of an anxiety attack, non-detailed description of physical pain, food, kissing, potentially triggering descriptions of physical bodies, swearing, caps lock, school settings, s-xual innuendos, slight description of gore(imagery), vague descriptions of anxiety, Implications of an eating disorder, fatigue, dissociation, suppression of stimming, implied heavy restriction (ED), inner monologue-style anxiety description, eating,(will be added to as I write more)

Chapter CW: food mention, kissing, vague descriptions of potentially triggering physical characteristics (Logan is very skinny and Roman notices), (let me know if i missed anything please!)

Author notes: <<none>>

...

A few years had passed. Things weren't perfect, or easy, but they had each other. The three of them had found a one bedroom apartment together, and rent was easy to make with three contributors. They all went to college, Virgil and Roman to an arts school and Janus to a pregrad Law program.

Roman had rehearsals late that evening, and so Janus and Virgil had spent their free afternoon together, preparing dinner for Roman.

A stew (Virgil's family recipe) simmered on the stove, and Janus held Virgil close in his lap on the couch, carding his fingers through his hair. Virgil nuzzled into his boyfriend's collarbone, sighing with a small smile.

"Darling," Janus near-whispered, his voice rumbling in his chest as he pressed his face into Virgil's hair. Virgil hummed.

"Do you know the moment I started loving you?"

Virgil's head shot up, and he looked at Janus with pleading eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't force any words out. Janus smiled at him meekly, running fingers down Virgil's cheek.

"Do you recall," Janus continued, cupping the corner of Virgil's jaw in his hand, "In eighth grade, when I... when I found you between classes..." Virgil nodded, breathing shallowly. Janus pursed his lips. "It may be a bit... irrational for me to say, but... you allowing me to hold you in my arms when you were in such a vulnerable state..." A single tear ran down Virgil's cheek. Janus' brow furrowed, and he swiped the tear away with his thumb. "Oh, my darling, are you okay?"

Virgil made an odd noise, something between a scoff, a sob and a laugh, and suddenly surged forward, intertwining his fingers on the nape of Janus' neck as he connected their lips.

"That's when I knew, too." Virgil said as he pulled away, voice very very low. Janus raised his eyebrows in surprise, a smile teasing at the corners of his mouth. "I knew you'd... keep me safe. I knew I could... trust you with my heart." Virgil swallowed. "Even if it took me another few years to actually... do that."

"We were very young, and... we both made that mistake." Janus admitted readily, bringing his other hand to Virgil's face in symmetry.

"Do you..." Virgil gripped Janus' shirt in his fists, "do you think we would have ever... let it happen, if... if we hadn't met Roman?" Virgil looked back into Janus' eyes. Janus sighed, tracing the bridge of Virgil's nose with his eyes.

"I'm not sure." He conceded eventually.

Virgil adjusted himself, shifting one leg so that he straddled Janus' lap. "It doesn't matter. I don't want to think about not knowing Roman. Or..." or not being able to love you two. Virgil shook his head slowly.

"Then let's not," Janus wrapped his arms around Virgil's waist, and Virgil wrapped his arms around Janus' neck in kind. He made to kiss him with an open mouth, but kept their lips just millimeters apart. Virgil rolled his hips once, and Janus chuckled at him, letting his eyes flutter closed. "Ever a tease, aren't you darling?"

Virgil simply responded by locking his lips with Janus'.

Roman chose that exact moment to open the front door to their apartment with a loud, exasperated groan.

"I give up!" He threw his hands in the air, stomping over to the couch to sit beside Janus, crossing his legs and pouting. "How am I to live?"

Virgil smirked, turning to grab his prince's jaw and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "What happened, princey?" Janus wrapped one arm around Roman's shoulder, pulling him slightly closer, and Roman began relaying his tale.

An hour ago almost to that exact moment, Roman shook his auburn red hair out, allowing it to roll in its curls in any direction it would like. He stretched down, touching his toes and beginning to walk his hands out, settling into a solid plank before beginning a few pushups.

He stood again with a small jump, readjusting his stage garments. They were simply a pair of black tights and a white undershirt, but the top had rolled up his navel slightly when he'd been stretching.

Rehearsal had all but ended, and he bounced on the balls of his feet as he waited for his turn to get unmic'd. He was one of the leads this semester, and so got his mic off last... for some odd reason. Most every production he'd been involved in prior had done things in a reverse fashion to what was happening now, but he didn't mind so much. He loved the feeling of standing on stage with the theatre enclosure all revolving around him. It created a strange comforting and confidence-boosting sensation that he could never get enough of.

Soon enough, his name was called. He hopped quickly offstage, tromping over to the sound booth.

A man with a jarring appearance approached him with tact. Roman had to keep his jaw from dropping, and opted instead to stare until the man was behind him. He payed Roman no mind, never meeting his eyes.

Roman hadn't had time to look closely at the man, but caught a few key details. His hair was glossy and black, plainly slicked back with some sort of product that Roman could smell faintly (vanilla?), save for one or two strands straying across his forehead and resting on the upper rim of his square glasses. He was almost concerningly pale, and his cheeks sunk in slightly. His eyes were a deeply piercing blue. His jawline was subtle and yet extremely sharp; everything about him appeared angular and calculated. He wore a white dress shirt that was a bit ruffled, top two buttons undone to reveal his collarbones - Roman assumed that was intentional, but in full honesty he had no idea.

Suddenly the man's slender hands were up the back of Roman's shirt, and Roman quite nearly squealed before remembering that this was completely standard protocol for unmicing someone. He tried to focus on literally anything else besides the fact that this painfully attractive man had his hands working clinically beneath Roman's shirt, against the heat of his bare skin. His hands were very cold against Roman's back, and Roman very nearly outright shivered at the feeling.

Suddenly the hands were no longer up Roman's shirt, and the man walked around to Roman's front, beginning to carefully untangle the mic cord from Roman's hair.

The boy was almost a head taller than Roman, roughly the same height as his Janus, Roman guessed. There was a very faint dusting of tiny dark freckles splayed across his cheeks and nose, and there were little flecks of gray and white in his eyes, almost like a cloudy sky. His jaw was set, but his hands moved gently. Roman tried not to gasp when he finally looked down at him, eyebrows knit.

"You're all set, Roman," the man said, eyeing Roman strangely before receding back to the sound booth to begin sorting through and putting away the mic packs.

"Thank you," Roman breathed, and kicked himself internally for how small and weak his voice came out. He shook his hair out again, trying to clear his head of the onset of gay panic he'd just experienced.

It's now or never; you might not get another chance at an actual conversation with this guy until the production is over. Roman steeled himself and took a few hesitant steps towards the sound booth.

"I didn't catch your name," Roman leaned a little too casually on the door frame, almost stumbling. the boy smirked, apparently not needing to turn and look at Roman to know that he was making a fool of himself.

"I did not figuratively 'throw' it," he replied coolly, continuing to work with the stacks of mic packs that had accumulated on the desk before him.

"Well, I would greatly appreciate if you did. It seems unfair for you to know my name and I not know yours." Roman thought for a moment when he was met with silence. "And you don't need to say figuratively; I know you didn't literally throw your name."

The boy turned then, adjusting his glasses as he sized Roman up. "A little clarity has never hurt anybody."

They looked at each other for a long moment, Roman still leaning haphazardly on the doorframe. The taller boy sighed a laugh quietly through his nose.

"Logan." He said, shaking his head with a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth. "My name is Logan."

Roman smiled, standing up properly and clapping his hands together. "Wonderful! Logan, my dear, my sweet," Roman began verbally serenading him, and Logan only scoffed at his antics, long used to the ridiculously over-the-top confidence that actors had, "would you do me the honor of allowing me to take you out for coffee some time?" He bowed dramatically low, holding one hand out to Logan.

Logan stared for a moment, and Roman looked up when Logan didn't react to his proposal. Logan only laughed through his nose again, shaking his head slightly.

"I'm afraid I must decline."

Roman snapped up into a standing position, scoffing loudly. "Truly?" he stared at Logan, who just looked at him once more, nodding slightly. Roman scoffed again, even louder. "I- I don't know what to say! Not once have my highly sought out charms been resisted so strongly!" He gripped his shirt over his heart in a dramatic gesture, getting on one knee and reaching out to Logan, who was putting away the last few mic packs. "And that may not seem like much to say, since I have only ever used them on two others... however I-" Logan cut him off with a very very intense stare. And Roman all but swooned.

"I appreciate the... offer, Roman," Logan slung his backpack over his shoulder, which jutted out against the thin fabric of his shirt in a quite boney fashion, "but I have no interest in..." Logan looked Roman up and down slowly, but disgust was nowhere to be seen on his face. Something more similar to heartbreak, however, was palpable as Roman watched Logan's eyes.

Logan never found the words, opting to sigh and begin pacing out of the theatre.

"Wait," Roman whispered mostly to himself, reaching out vaguely in the direction Logan had left in.

...

"And that's why I have officially given up on love," Roman, his storytelling concluded, buried his face in Virgil's shirt, mimicking a sob as his boyfriends laughed at him endearingly.

"Roman, my dear," Janus took Roman's hand in his own, kissing his knuckles gently, "I expect that you'll see this Logan again soon. I'm positively baffled that he managed to evade your charms this time," Janus gripped Roman's jaw with an uncharacteristic tenderness, "but i sincerely doubt he'll last long." Janus pressed a kiss onto Roman's lips, and then removed Virgil from his lap, standing and righting himself. "For now, however," He reached a hand out to his boyfriends to help them stand, "We have a stew to attend to."