#if you squint this could fit the fire prompt right

[kdramamilfs]

— Roy G. Guzmán

[thevirtualvalentine]

006. ONE PIECE, PORTGAS D. ACE.

Prompt: Ace’s day just isn’t right unless he pounds you stupid first thing in the morning.

Warnings: smut, unprotected vaginal sex, slight breeding kink, afab!reader, established relationship, biting (only once), praise kink, “baby” as a pet name, servicedom!ace if you squint, dry humping, cream pie.

It’s early, far too early. The heaviness of sleep tugs at you dragging your mind in and out of consciousness. You can see the sun creeping slightly from the horizon but the stars try their best to convince you it’s still time to sleep.

You feel him against you, probably in a similar state of limbo. Warmth emits from him like a soft fire as you snuggle closer, desperately hoping to settle down.

“Morning baby, c’mere,” groggy and hoarse as his voice is, you still find it sexy to hear early morning like this. Ace’s warm hands pull your plush body on top of him like a weighted blanket. He capitalizes off the heat you bring him, letting your knees rest on either side of his hips.

The comforter wraps around the two of you, shielding you from the harshness of the world before the bitter day starts. It’s like he’s missed you since he’s been asleep with the sheer hold he has around your bare back.

You love being chest to chest with him, skin to skin, letting your hearts have a conversation that no one else can hear. Your arms wrap around his broad shoulders while you play with long hair at the base of neck, as a reminder you’re there thinking of him even in silence.

He returns the gesture, the pad of his thumb works circles on your lower back, occasionally drawing shapes or spelling “I love you.” Some part of him always seems to find itself touching you.

It’s supposed to start out like this, soft and intimate as he holds you there to his chest. However, the combination of his morning wood and your obscenely warm pussy just hovering over his boxers makes it unbearable. He can’t take it for long, his need for you can’t be satiated by this intimacy alone. He needs more.

The thing about Ace is, he can’t seem to just ask for what he wants, so he bides his time grinding his half hard erection into you. The hand that used to soothe your back begins to push your hips downwards with every upwards rut of his groin.

Once even breaths turn airy in his ear as he rocks into you deliciously slow. His legs rise up the bed as he settles you on top of him, essentially cradling your tired form to fit his toned warm body. “Need you sweet thing, gonna miss you all day,” and it’s true. There isn’t a fallacy in Ace’s words. It crushes him to part from you day after day like a sick dog.

He wishes he could always lay with you and feel your hands in his hair like some kind of hedonistic freak. He can’t stand the physical pain he feels in his chest when your soft skin hasn’t graced his finger tips in a few hours.

Despite his complicated feelings, your lips meet his as an answer. Your wet tongue exploring his in a hot sloppy mess, desire licking at every inch of your body. The hands he loves so much tug at his raven strands in an effort to bring him closer to consume him entirely. Ace was so good to you, so receptive. Low groans spill from his mouth into yours but you swallow them up readily.

“You’ll miss me too mama, right?” The slow draw of his hips across your folds keeps your clit snug against him, dragging against the fabric. The sensation is ecstasy as his possessive lips suck against your neck.

“Ace, stop teasing me. It’s always you baby. Only want you.” Your body moves in time with his, the grip he has on your hip almost makes you feel like you’re melting into one on top of him like this. He’s just so warm it makes you crazy.

That was all he wanted to hear, the confirmation that it’s him you need. Someone somewhere was waiting for him to come back everyday. Your intimacy somehow always makes him that much hornier. He’s convinced he’s sick and depraved the way he could get off on assurance from you alone.

Too impatient to take his boxers off he only pulls them down far enough to fish his fat cock out.

“Just put it in, please,” you couldn’t care less about the burn right now, you’re just hungry for the growing glob of pre oozing from his tip.

Ace couldn’t be happier to oblige you, loving the way he splits you open when you sheath him. You sit up on his chest, letting him line himself up against your opening. He can’t stop from coating his cock in your slick first, rubbing his girth through your folds trying to use his earnings.

If there’s a feeling you wish you could replicate every time you fuck Ace, it would be how unreal his cock feels sliding through your lower lips. It knocks the wind out of you how smoothly he glides in, like he’s always been meant to be there with his tip kissing your cervix.

“So t-tight.. and wet and so fucking warm every time,” he can feel his balls pulsing already, you’re so snug. “You’re killin’ me here baby.”

This position lets you feel every vein that lines Aces cock drag against your gummy walls, your pussy sucking his dick like candy every time he reluctantly drags it out of you. It makes you lose your mind whenever he fucks you like this raw and he knows it, he can feel how creamy his baby gets when you whine about how bad you need him.

Your head is tucked into his shoulder as he makes a mess of your cunt. A mix of him and you currently leaks down his balls with each squelch of his girth stretching you out. He doesn’t mind doing the work, especially with tight cunt like this; the kind that forms a nice white ring around his thick base as he fucks you.

“So good Ace— oh my, oh my god baby,” you leave soft kisses on his face and neck, tasting the salty sweat that’s accumulating at his hairline. His tan face turning red from desperation and exhaustion, but he moans your name from the praise. Letting his head fall back on the pillows as his dick twitches for release deep inside you.

He needs to cum and he needs to cum bad; hot, heavy, and hard inside you. Ace grabs your hips and stuffs you full to the brim, sliding your bodies up the bed as he grabs a mass of your hair in his hand.

“Give it to me,” you beg. With his hand on your waist and another in your hair, he starts to bounce you on and off his dick. Letting your pussy lips keep him inside you as you slide up and down his shaft.

Ace bites into your shoulder as he fucks your pussy with everything he’s got, he loves to feel like your good boy. Pleasing you with everything he has in him. Nothing brings him any greater joy than watching you fall apart on him.

The sound is obscene, skin on skin filling the room as he pounds you raw. His teeth in your neck burn in the best way sending heat to your core. Everything with Ace was hot, the sex, the romance, the intimacy. It lit you on fire.

“Cum with me mama, please baby I can’t without you.” With his thumb pressed to your clit he eventually milks it out of you, sending the rubber band snapping within you as you clamp down on him.

Ace’s brain can’t think when your cunt sucks him in like this, your walls rapidly convulsing and begging him to release. The only answer it can think to give is spewing his hot thick cum in loads deeper in you. He holds your body flush against his, praising everything you do as he comes down from his high.

Your breaths fall into unison again as you lay there, only basking in the presence of each other. Maybe you both can sleep a few more minutes. Right?

[ramblingoak]

Kiss prompt!

Papa x Swiss

#27

Plz & thx 😜

Thank you Anon! I had a lot of fun with this one since I haven't really done much Papa x Ghoul stuff yet. I hope you like it!

Copia x Swiss with a kiss "as a suggestion"

Warnings: just a very thorough kiss hehe, maybe slightly suggestive so nsfw just in case, about 1k words and aggressively not beta read (thank you to @gothdaddyissues for the dividers!)

Swiss hated seeing Copia like this.

Tired and stressed, Papa had been working practically nonstop in preparation for the upcoming tour.  Even the black makeup around his eyes couldn’t hide the signs of strain that were there.  His wrinkles were a little more pronounced from squinting at budget sheets and the skin beneath his eyes was swollen from lack of sleep.  The man needed a good meal, a good night’s rest and as Swiss let his eyes wander over the handsome Papa’s body a few other ideas came to mind.

“Why the fuck does Dewdrop need all these guitars?”

Copia’s irritated voice broke Swiss from his thoughts and the ghoul straightened up from the couch he had been sprawled across,  “Don’t know, skill issue?”

“Skill iss–,”  Copia looked up sharply from his paperwork, his eyes narrowed as he glanced over at Swiss.  When all he saw was a pointy toothed grin Copia snorted and looked back down at his desk.  “Phantom didn’t ask for any new guitars, neither did you!  Why does Dewdrop need six?”

“Papa, can I make a suggestion?”  When he nodded, Swiss stood up and made his way over to his desk.  “Let’s leave Dewdrop behind.”

Copia grinned immediately, the big one that Swiss was pretty sure was only reserved for him.  The smile that he definitely didn’t go out of his way to try to see on a daily basis.  

“I’m on board as long as you’re the one that breaks the news.”  

Copia smiled again when Swiss made a face but it quickly faded when he focused on the paperwork in front of him again.  Well this wasn’t going to do at all, Swiss needed to up his game a bit.  He idly started to tap his claws on the dark wood of the desk, slowly walking around to the side and leaning his hip against it.

“Papa?”  Swiss stayed quiet until Copia looked up at him,  “Can I make another suggestion?”

“Uh, sì.  Certo.”

“How about we take a break?”  He could see Copia immediately stiffen and Swiss had no doubt he was about to be on the receiving end of a speech on how much work there was to do so he quickly reached out and laid a hand over Copia’s arm.  “You need to eat and get some sleep.”

“That was two suggestions.”

“Oh, really?  Well then how about I throw in a third one?”  Swiss pushed off the desk and moved around until he was standing behind Copia.  He gently laid his hands on the man’s shoulders and started to rub the tense muscles there.  “You also need a massage.”

Copia’s only answer was a deep groan and Swiss took that as permission to rub his shoulders harder.  The man was quickly putty in the ghoul’s hands, the most delightful sounds falling from his lips.  Swiss had to bite his own to keep from making any himself, right now his focus was on Copia and making him feel good.

He always enjoyed taking care of his Papa.

When Copia had mostly quieted down, the muscles that Swiss had been working on finally relaxed and loose, he slipped around the chair and hopped up to sit on the desk.

“Swiss!  Stop playing around I still have lots of wor–”

“I actually have one more suggestion.”  

“I haven’t even done the other two you asked for yet.”

“Oh I know, but this last one is something we can fit in whenever.”  Copia was looking up at him with an exasperated expression on his face but Swiss just kept smiling.  “Whenever and as often as you want.”

“Is it leaving me alone?”  Swiss could see Copia fighting a smile when he gave him an exaggerated pout.  “Fine, fine.  Let’s see, you already suggested food and rest…”

“And firing Dewdrop.”

“Sì, and firing Dewdrop.”  Copia sighed, shaking his head as he leaned back in his chair and stared up at Swiss.  “I can’t think of anything else I need.”

“A kiss.”

“Un bacio?”  Swiss nodded eagerly, pleased beyond words to see a blush building on Copia’s cheeks.  “Just one?”

“To start with.”

Neither of them spoke for a few moments, both just watching the other.  Swiss was trying not to stare at his lips but he was failing miserably.  When one corner of them quirked up and Copia looked away shyly Swiss felt like letting out a whoop of triumph.

“Okie dokie.  I accept your suggestion.”  

Copia nervously began to shuffle the papers on his desk, only stopping when Swiss planted a hand right on top of them as he leaned in towards him.  The kiss was gentle, far gentler than was necessary but Swiss wanted to savor this moment.  He wanted to memorize every little detail he could.  The fullness of Copia’s bottom lip, the taste of the black makeup he wore on the top one, the sound of their teeth lightly clacking together as the kiss deepened…

Swiss was too damn big to be crawling into Copia’s lap but here he was, his legs straddling him and his fingers buried in the man’s brown hair.  Copia’s tongue flicked at Swiss’s lips, demanding entrance and easily getting it.  As Swiss raked his claws along his scalp Copia tugged at the ghoul’s shirt so he could slide his gloved hands along Swiss’s skin.  The leather was warm and soft and Swiss broke away from his lips with a deep groan.

After a handful of minutes panting into each other’s mouths Swiss finally leaned back to look over his work.  Copia’s hair was all over the place thanks to his hands and Swiss probably had more makeup on his face than Copia did at this point.  He licked his lips to get a taste of the metallic paint again, grinning when he saw Copia’s mismatched eyes tracking the movement of his tongue.

Oh yeah, there were definitely going to be more kisses.

“What do you think, Papa?  Did you like that suggestion?”

Copia nodded, his hands still idly rubbing along Swiss’s body under his shirt, “I did, sì.”  Without warning he gave a quick tug and Swiss found himself pressed tightly to his Papa’s chest, their faces barely a breath apart.  “Got any more?”

If you'd like to be added/removed from the tag list (or if I accidentally left your name off) of this fic or any of my others please leave a comment or send me a dm! Thank you! Also if you'd prefer to only be tagged in my reader insert stuff that's ok! Feel free to let me know!

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[prac-ticalproblems]

for the asks. for a while i had an idea spinning in my head of spy, engie and scout going on a sort of hitman mission (spy blending into the crowd, others working in the background) and finding out that they have to kill the guy from sex bomb or something idk i wanted it to be silly

SO TRUE, thank you dearly for the ask btw 🧡

I have some very strong feelings abt this prompt, the ideas are firing! Let’s go!

SCOUT

Screams immediately, almost getting them caught, because he thought he felt a bug crawl on his leg in the vents.

It is his untied shoelace brushing against his calf.

Scouts job is to literally ‘scout’ the opposition. See who should be a problem, who won’t. Nullify any threats and keep an eye out for an escape plan.

Scout, in fact, does not do this, and instead chats up with the ladies while squinting in the direction of the exit sign and saying it’s “good enough” over his ear piece.

When one of them lets it slip that Tom Jones is playing after the openers at this venue, he is starstruck about meeting his idol on stage! He shows off his massive tattoo in vigor, scaring the women away.

He races up to their safe room, to tell the guys the news, and learns what they’re actually here for.

He is inconsolable for maybe 40 full minutes, while the two men try to awkwardly calm him down.

SPY

Spy is the one who suggested the vent as their entrance point. He partially did so to get away from Engineer. They have been bickering endlessly about anything since entering the car, and he thought it’d be an easy out. Engie was too big to fit in the vents like him and Scout.

He did not take into consideration that the Texan is big, true, and extremely stubborn. They take an extra 5 minutes to get him out and to go another way because Spy said he couldn’t do it.

With that out of the way, Spy takes an overhead view of the back stage, gauging how the security will be, who to worry about, who will be a liability to the target, their main focus.

He almost growls when he hears Scout yells through the very good quality speakers with a mouth full of food to meet at the safe room Engineer has set up in, to hear the urgent news.

He sighs, long and drawn out, before explaining their mission, in full, to the other man.

Scout is devastated, at having to kill his ‘father’. Spy grimaces at the word.

“If you are going to be a liability for this mission, then go sit in the car. A job is a job, and I don’t leave things unfinished.”

He glares, arms crossed as he looks away. Acting like he didn’t feel a little bit guilty.

ENGINEER

He knew damn well he would not fit in that vent, but he came out with a cocky grin because he pissed Spy off.

Engineer is here because it’s an opportunity to try out his new EMP invention on the unsuspecting public!

He really doesn’t care about the mission as much as Spy, but since he’s here, he supposes he could act as the man behind the chair, wiping the footage of their presence across the film.

When Scout interrupts his dissection of the blueprints to the building for the best escape plans, (since Scout didn’t really do it) He nearly jumps out of his skin.

Usually his workshop was locked. Someone storming in was not on his quota.

As Spy and Scout’s altercation goes by, he tried to interrupt the both of them, to no avail.

After finally, finally calming down Scout down, he gets his words in….

“Er…. You both know that it’s a Tom Jones impersonator… right? It’s on the file…”

The room’s silent for a bit.

“Oh.” “Oh, then let’s go get ‘im then!”

The job was done. Maybe it was to subpar standards, but at least, passing

[bitbybitwrites]

Ugh - life is so crazy, got to this really late. Sorry!

Thanks for tagging me in this and past six /seven/several sentence sundays and WIP Wednesdays that I've missed!:

@porcelainmortal, @alasse9 @sheepywritesfics @softboynick @forabeatofadrum

@daisyishedwig @sophie1973 @taste-thewaste @14carrotghoul @wordsofhoneydew

If I forgot anyone, I apologize!

****

What's been up with writing:

Well I recently posted my latest chapter in my Klaine fic, If I Can Make Your Heart My Home. I have quite a few writing asks to tackle (I'll get to them, I promise) and my immensely large WIP list . . .

But of course, because I'm a sucker for punishment, I started, what I am jokingly referring to as - one prompt, 2 ships 😂.

Basically saw a writing prompt on Tumblr and loved the idea so much I could see it fit in both for Klaine and FirstPrince.

So I started writing something for both because my brain won't let it go.

Both stories are fantasy AUs, each with a little "saving someone from a dragon" element aspect to it - we'll see where they go.

Pardon the silly fire themed titles - thought they went well with the dragon aspect of the story 😂

Really rough snippets are below:

baby won't you light my fire - Klaine WIP

“I’m not sure I understand, Sir, “ Blaine said, as he shifted uncomfortably in the heat of the summer sun, his leather jerkin feeling a bit stiff and uncomfortable. The sword strapped to his side grew heavy after his long journey from Westerville. 

Perhaps it was just the fatigue.  Perhaps it was his lack of a morning meal, thanks to him leaving at the crack of dawn to avoid his brother Cooper’s incessant questions about his latest quest.  Whatever the reason was, Blaine unable to focus on the words coming out of the other man’s mouth.

Burt sighed as he pushed his cloth cap from his head, rubbing his forehead.  “Perhaps it’s best I show you son.”

The blacksmith paused first to call out to dark innards of the forge.  “Finn!” He shouted “Finn!”

A tall, lanky young man emerged, a leather apron wrapped around his frame and a smear of soot across his forehead.  He removed a pair of thick gloves, also leather, from his hands as he squinted in the bright sunlight, spying Burt and giving him a bright smile.  “Yes, Burt?” He asked.

Burt nodded towards Blaine.  “This is Blaine.  He’s here to help your brother.”

For a moment, the younger blacksmith looked puzzled.  Then after noticing the sword at  his belt, the furrow on his brow smoothed. 

“OH . . .” Finn’s eyes lit up with understanding, and then softened a bit with sympathy just a moment later.  “I’m glad.  Don’t let Kurt intimidate you.  He’s got a . . um . . strong personality.”

Blaine nodded.  “I’ve had to rescue many a temperamental damsel in distress,” he confided, thinking back to Lady Kitty and the Baroness Sugar de Motta.  Those quests were nothing but headaches.  He tolerated it for the pay though.  “I think I should be fine.”

Finn’s eyes shifted from Burt to Blaine.  “Yes . . .” he said, appearing as if he was unsure how much farther to explain.  “Well, Kurt’s situation might be a bit different that any other ladies in ivory towers that needed saving,” the young blacksmith told Blaine cryptically.

“Well,” Burt said, as he coughed  and nodded, looking about nervously.  “I think we should get going before nightfall.  Tell your mother I may be home later for dinner.”

Finn nodded as he held out his hand to the visitor.  “Um . . .good luck, I guess,” Finn said.  “Safe travels and . . uh,” Finn straightened, puffing out his chest and lifting his chin.  “You make sure to treat my brother right, or you’ll have to deal with me.”

Blaine stared up wordlessly at Finn, clueless as to what he was trying to convey.

Burt snorted in the background.  “Finn,” he gently chastised his step-son.  “I think Kurt can take care of himself . . don’t you?”

“But I’m still the older brother . . .”

“Kurt is older than you.”

“Bigger brother then . . .“

With a chuckle, Burt gave his step son a look.  Finn begrudgingly sighed, his shoulders deflating a bit as he gave in.

“Fine . . .”  Finn still tried to give Blaine an intimidating glare.  “Just, be nice to Kurt, ok?” he asked.  “He’s been through a lot lately.”

Blaine nodded at the puzzling request.  “I promise.”

*****

2.) burn baby burn - FirstPrince WIP

“I think you’re crazy.”

Alex snorted as he shoved a few more items into his rucksack “You would," he countered.

His best friend rolled over from her position lying down. Her gilt embroidered slippers glinted in the early morning sun as she waggled her toes while she perched precariously on the bed. Her head hung over the edge and her dark curls reached downwards toward the floor. Nora continued watching him pack, with a smirk on her face. 

“Only you, Alejandro, would accept this sort of one-man-needed, dangerous, save-a-damsel-in-distress type of job”.  she said, still very amused. "Just face it, you’re hoping the princess is pretty and you might get a roll in the royal bedsheets before accepting payments and heading off on your way.”

A soiled shirt flew across the room and hit Nora squarely in the face.

Alex sighed.  “We are not discussing my love life right now.  I have to prepare for this job.”

“What love life?” Nora teased.

“Lalalallalalalalala . . .” June sang loudly as she entered, her hands full of items.  “No talking about my little brother’s love life.  Don’t want to know the details.”

“You sure, because there was that one time . . “ Alex began as he smirked.

June let out an exasperated sound and tossed the armful of items at her brother.  He quickly cursed, dropped what he was holding to attempt to catch everything hurtling his way. What items he failed to grasp floated in the air before him. June’s eyes twinkled as she wiggled her fingers causing them to dance around her brother’s head, inches out of his reach,  occasionally making  one or two dip down and smack him in the skull.

Nora cackled as she watched the siblings from her upside down position.

“Why on earth do I need all this , Bug?” Alex said exasperated, trying to jump up to catch a floating bundle of herbs, but failing to reach it miserably.

“Because you can’t go in and face a dragon by yourself (which is INSANE) . . “

“Told him that already!” chirped Nora

“ . . And not have some magic in your pocket. Since you won’t take me with you, I'm stocking you up on herbs and crystals.” June said firmly.

With a few swift waves of her hands all the items bounced into the air into a open bag of holding that dangled between her fingers. After peering inside, June sniffed, contented that it was ready. She tied the drawstrings of the velvet pouch shut and held it out to her younger sibling who took it reluctantly.  

It wasn't that Alex had anything against magic. But he was a more of a practical, hands-on swordsman for hire. Steel blades, arrows, maces . . working with any sort of weaponry was his forte, along with being devastatingly handsome and charming, the combination of the all of that usually was all that he needed to get the job done.

Magic had its own place, he figured. And he'd do anything to placate his sister's worries. So he tossed what he often referred to as June's "bag of rocks and weeds" into his rucksack.

“I’m not sending you out there unprepared, Lil Bit.  I’d like for you to come back in one piece . .  .“ June continued as she began weaving a spell to ensure his traveling cloak would be impervious to weather.

“And sexually satisfied . . “ crowed Nora.

June groaned, stopping mid way through her motions. “Did I not say I didn’t want to hear anything about that.”

*****

Tagging to share their WIP ( writing or art or anything) (if they want to and they haven't done so already!) :

@kirakiwiwrites, @madas-ahatters-world, @caramelcoffeeaddict @little-escapist @littlemisskittentoes

@datshitrandom, @justgleekout, @mynonah, @esilher

@myheartalivewrites @kiwiana-writes @spaceorphan18 @annepi-blog @special-bc-ur-part-of-it

@sarkyblueeyes @blueeyedgrlwrites , @gleefulpoppet and an OPEN TAG for anyone else who sees this.

[oxpogues4lifexo]

Ward's Interview - KUwTC Ep1

With added BTS

BTS + Unseen footage is in Orange

Full episode Here

Other BTS

(/ means cut scene. Bold letters means host)

Ward sat by himself on a single seater beside the edge of the left hand side of the couch. His hair stuck tightly to the top of his head as he held himself with a humble appearance of a loose, white, half-unbuttoned shirt that had the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a pair of navy pants tightly fitted around his thighs, completed with an expensive silver-plated watch that sparkled with every movement he made.

"Could you all introduce yourselves please? Starting over here!" He points his hand towards the edge of the couch, pointing to Ward.

Ward's lips part as the corners lift to an even bigger smile, "Hello, I'm Ward Cameron!" He says holding a proud grin to the camera as he emphasises a wave, his watch shuffling down his arm slightly at the motion.

/

The camera holds for a minute, taking in Sarah's expressions before Ryan prompts the cameraman to move on. Wards facade slips slightly at the action whilst the others seem too preoccupied with their own thoughts to notice.

/

“That Cameraman needs firing! I don’t know who the hell he thinks he is, but that’s my daughter! My daughter!! And he’s got his pervy eyes on her while in my own home. Unacceptable! I want him gone by tomorrow, Sarah is NOT living in a house with someone like that, when he’s filming a family show. That’s wrong. It’s disgusting and he’s vile!”

He sat in the office, on his leather couch as his finger waved in the air with each word that left his mouth. You could tell just by his facial expression alone that he was more than pissed.

“I pay him SO much money to film this for us. Not to be gawking over my daughter!!-”

He sits quietly for a minute, the cameras sat on his face as it shows a small cog turning inside his head. His eyes widen as he presses his hands to the seat of the couch and pushes himself off calmly. He walks out the room slamming the door heavily as he makes his way into the living room.

“Where is he??”

“Wheres who Ward?”

“That man!! The one with the blonde hair, and that weird moustache!”

“Umm me..?”

Wards eyes widen again, before squinting, his eyebrows furrowing as he clenches his fist beside his thigh. “You..”

He steps closer to him so he was nose to nose with the guy, “Get. Out. My. House. Now!!!” He points his finger at the door. The man stood still in shock, watching Wards eyes.

“OUT!!” Ward grabs his arm and chucks him into the direction of the exit, making him stumble over his own feet. The man didn’t even hesitate; grabbing his camera and his bag before running out the door, not turning back once.

The camera pans back to Ward once more, a grin showing on his lips. The first time all day, Ryan felt almost intimidated by him.

/

Ward was proud of his family as he looked over them, as if he were some King admiring his people. He gives Sarah a reassuring nod; tugging a small smile to her lips.

/

“Right where were we..” He coughs to clear his mind and the tension in the air. The new cameraman slightly on edge as he keeps his eyes nowhere but on Ward himself. “Oh right! Yes I do know that none of them wanted to do the show! Well.. Wheezie did! I can always count on her to make me happy. And Rafe? He gave a very different reaction when I brought it up the first time. But now? I don’t even know what to say, he’s so.. interested? Like he wants to talk about everything. Which even for Bella is rare! He goes to her a lot but she never gets anything out of him. So him so willing to share his life with the island so suddenly, if you ask me, he’s on something. And no that’s not a joke..” He scoffs at his own words, his eyes rolling.

“I know that Rafe sometimes does drugs and other substances. Only because I know that Bella’s brother, Cal, does it. And those boys, they are very easily influenced by one another. They all have this underlying power over each other, I’m just glad they don’t bring Bella down with them! If anything they try to avoid it around her, especially Rafe which I found very surprising. She has this hold on him, he has this liking towards her that makes him softer, more human you could say. It’s refreshing to see Rafe under a different light. It’s one of the reasons I don’t mind her being friends with him. He wants what’s best for her, and he knows how to give her that. It’s cute actually. Rafe’s always been a lone wolf. Always doing everything by himself even if he had friends around. But now he’s met Bella, there’s this different side to him that he doesn’t care to show. The real him. And it makes me happy to know that there’s still that part of him in there. After his mum left he went off the walls! And he turned to drugs and other methods to cope. He was only young. So knowing that there is still a small part of him that’s okay and can find happiness in something other than illegal methods is quite relieving. I have my son back. I don’t say it often but I do love him. And it makes me happy to see him the way he is with her. She doesn’t know how grateful I am! Well I guess she will after this huh.” He chuckles to himself, ignoring the small glisten in his eyes as tears ball in the corners under his lashes.

/

Ryan nods with the same grin on his face from minutes before, "So, how is everyone feeling?"

A mixture of "goods” and “fines” were thrown around the room, causing a small furrow in the hosts brow. He coughs to clear the air, opening his mouth to speak before a voice interrupts.

"How're you?" He looks over to notice the voice was Wheezie, a bubbly expression accompanied her words.

Ryan can't help but light up at the question, normally he's the one to ask all the questions, the attention never being on him. "I'm.. yeah I'm good thank you! Excited to be here with you guys. It's a pleasure."

She smiles to his answer; Ward's face lifting at the enthusiasm from atleast one person he loves. "I'm glad you're here too! It's exciting to be able to have an opportunity like this, especially when I've been trying to sort it for a few weeks now! It kind of felt like a lost cause at one point." He chuckles away to himself, pushing the tension of the previous situation out his head.

"Hm, yeah I had to put a few mentions out there to make this happen for you!"

"Well thank you, as you can tell we're all very much looking forward to it." He jokes as he looks around at the bored expressions over on the couch.

Ryan laughs with him, "I can very much tell!"

"Are you going to ask questions or can I go do the laundry?" From previous moments you could tell Rose was holding back from speaking, but the jokes were only causing more irritation. The three kids give each other ‘the look’ and start giggling to one another.

"Honey don't be rude, it's nice to have a bit of small talk beforehand; get to know what your getting yourself into. You'll get the laundry done soon I promise.." He whispers the last part, trying his best to comfort her. He knows she doesn't like people bothering her but he also knows that with some pushing, she'll warm up to the cameras.

One look at Ward and her body immediately melts, her face softening and a smile tugging at her cheeks. She nods to him, batting her lashes, "Okay.. sorry."

"Don't worry, we'll be doing the interviews privately so you have plenty of time to do your housework."

She nods, but stays silent. Any next word that comes out her mouth will only cause more tension.

/

“Yeah Rose isn’t the most enthusiastic when it comes to anything outside her comfort zone. But it doesn’t mean she won’t do it. She only accepted to do the show because she knew I wanted to do it so badly. Same with the kids really. Rose has a very set mindset. A set routine of how everything works. And if anything, like the cameras, gets in her way or adds extra stress to her already stressful day then she can’t function properly. I feel bad for her I really do, but I made sure to tell Ryan not to put the cameras on her too much through the week! Although when she found out that there were cameras everywhere and were going to be on 24/7, she did have a mini panic. Almost making me cut off the idea completely. Thankfully Ryan came to a compromise and will cut out all her scenes if she wants him to. He’s actually a very sweet guy. I’m glad he’s our host!”

/

Silence holds the air for a minute or two before Ryan clears his throat, "Right."

He looks around at everyone, "I was going to talk to you all as a family first but you all seem to have things you need to do so..Ward!" He raises his hand to gesture towards him, "I'll speak to you first. The rest of you can stick around and I'll get you when we're ready." He gives them a nod as each of them don't hesitate to get up from the couch, removing themselves from the situation almost instantly.

Rate stands around for a moment, hands in his trouser pockets, a small frown tugging at his brow.

"You okay, son?" Ward questions as he moves himself into a better position for the focus of the camera.

Rafe's shoulders raise at his question, "Just-Yeah I'm fine." He nods, pushing away his frustration as he gives the camera a little smile.

"Is Bella free? Maybe she and Callum could come round to keep you occupied while you wait!" Ward suggests, trying his best to satisfy Rate's needs, which isn't always the easiest thing to do.

"Yeah I'll go see. Can I be next?" The eagerness that radiated from Rate caused a smile upon Wards face.

"You know Rafe, you're the only person actually willing to give something to this show at the moment. I really appreciate it, thank you! And yes I'm sure you can go next."

Rafe smiles once more as the host butts in, "Of course you can! We won't be long." Ryan reassures him as Rafe makes his way to the garden to make a phone call.

"Right shall we start?"

"I think that's best!" Ward chuckles, smoothing out his hair and repositioning his watch on his wrist as he adjusts himself to face the camera again.

"May I start off by asking, who's Bella and Callum?"

Ward lets out a small laugh as a smile pulls at his lips, more genuine than the last, and his eyes light up by the simple mention of their names. "They are.." He coughs to clear his throat as just the thought of them alone makes him bubble with happiness. "They are my adopted children. Well.. I've raised them from a very young age so they're practically my own. I wouldn't have asked for it any other way if I'm being honest. Wait that sounds.. I mean.. nevermind! But they're Rafe's best friends if that's what you were asking."

"Ah okay, so.. I'm assuming their parents are out the picture then? Or do you help?"

"I'm sorry I don't really think that's my place to say. They're very sensitive to the topic. Could we get back to the show please?"

Ryan pauses for a moment, seeing how defensive Ward got almost instantly after his question, he smiled a little before realising what he said, "Yes sorry of course! Sorry for the question."

"So Ward, you're the man behind the plan. Tell us, what was your thought process when deciding to make your own reality show."

"Well, I'm a man from nothing, I'm a 'Pogue' as the kids call it. I built this life for myself and my family from the ground up, and I'm proud of myself. I feel like making this show isn't about showing off our money, it's about showing off the type of people we are and proving that working hard gets you far! We are all proud of where we stand, but it also comes with its disadvantages. And I felt like having a show of our own to show everyone that money doesn't make everything easier, is necessary. Because people think that we take advantage of our money when in reality all it does is pay for our bills, not our happiness."

Ryan gives him a small smile as he nods his head along, “Ward could you tell the audience a little about yourself."

"Okay. Um, I'm Ward Cameron, I'm fifty-six, and I own a business called Cameron Developments; but I mostly stay at home and just file the paper work, make sure everyone's doing their jobs properly! I have three beautiful children, and two amazing adopted children. I have a perfect wife who has taken in my children as her own since she's joined our family. Annnnd.. I think that's it haha."

"What would you say is your favourite part about this family?"

"God, only one? Uhh.. Well. I think l'd have to say, how different we all are. The kids aren't the closest but it means we always have something to talk about. Rafe always telling us about his friends' drama, Sarah always coming up with crazy stories and Wheezie talking about her new hobbies. Aswell as the additional arguments between Callum and Bella; it always makes for a very interesting dinner. The family talks are definitely my favourite l'd say!"

"And.. who would you say you're the closest to?"

"Definitely my angel, Sarah. Bella comes a close second. I just spent the most time with Sarah growing up so we have the most in common. And Bella's just a sweetheart to be around. Always making me smile."

"So Bella is a big part of your life then?"

"Yeah l'd say so. I raised her, taught her everything she needs to know, and now she walks around as one of my own. She's here almost everyday, and she's always up for anything. I love her."

/

“Are you not worried about talking about your favourites like that? I mean, Bella isn’t even in your family and you say you’re closer to her than your other two.”

“Well I’m not going to lie! Yeah I admit, I’m closer to Bella. Thats because Rafe’s never around and Wheezie’s independent. It’s not my fault in the slightest. I’m sure if you asked them, they’d all agree that I love everyone in this family equally!”

His face falls as his eyes widen, realising the insanity of his words, “Actually scrap that! Could you cut this? Dont ask them that!!”

/

“Is it okay to ask about Bella and Callum now? How did you end up meeting them?”

It was again later in the day, after all the interviews and the tour. Now Rose was cooking dinner and the kids were occupied with one another. Ward had some time in his office to have a deeper talk about everyone.

“Umm.. well I’m guessing you aren’t going to let up. So I’d say.. Well me and their parents were very close back in the day. Not so much when they had the kids but we still kept in touch every once in a while! It was only when I got the news about their dad that I really got involved again. I had to stay with the both of them whilst they waited in the hospital. Then after that, I took them in! I raised Rafe and at the time I was raising two babies aswell. It wasn’t new to me so I thought what’s the harm in two more? And I guess ever since I’ve kind of just looked at them as my own! Although Callum likes to disagree but that’s completely reasonable, he had a very close relationship with his dad and didn’t want to replace it. On the other hand Bella was neglected. There’s a whole ‘reasoning’ behind it I guess but it’s not okay either way. So she obviously gravitated closer to me than her brother. And I felt like it was my place to treat her like one of my own as she didn’t have parents before that. Thats why I’m so close to her. And why Callum isn’t really in the picture.”

/

"You have to be careful with Rafe." Ward explains, now moved outside. The sun almost completely covered by the sea edge and the wind had picked up since the last shot of him, made evident in the way he let his hair follow the winds lead. "He doesn't think before he speaks. But he also doesn't care for others feelings that much, he likes to speak his mind. So yeah I had to stick around for his interview to make sure he doesn't talk about anything unnecessary or out of pocket. He tends to do it quite a lot with all of us and it does cause some tension. It's one of the reasons why we like having Bella and Cal' around, because they seem to occupy his mind and also take over the cause of disagreement."

/

"Well Ward unless there's anything else you'd like to talk about I think that's it!"

"Oh great! I think I'm all good, did you want to start on the tour?"

"I think that, well.. uh.." The door opens and Ryan watches Wards face to see if he should carry on or wait. Ward stays looking in the direction of the voices giving Ryan the hint to wait.

"Haha no I don't think that's how it works Тор-" A familiar voice travels round into the room Ward was sat in. Immediately recognising her, his face lights up and he removes himself off the couch.

"Oh shit." Kelce mumbles as he notices the cameras. None of them being told that filming started today.

"Bella! Rafe called you then?"

"Yes I did! We're going on the boat call me when your rea-"

"I'm ready for you Rafe."

Rafe's eyes roll, his shoulders slump as a heavy breath leaves his mouth. He goes to protest before Bella takes his hand. "We won't do anything fun without you, promise!" A smirk pulls at the corner of his lip as he pulls away from her grip, following Ward over to the couch.

Topper, Kelce, Bella and what Ryan could only assume was her brother Callum, all grabbed some cans before going outside.

"Okay well there's Bella and Callum then!" Ryan chuckles as he fixes his bow tie, placing himself back down on the chair opposite Rafe. "I was just going to ask when we could meet them."

"Well there you go!" Ward laughs, sitting down on the poker table just off the shot of the camera.

"Ward, we can do the tour after all the interviews if that's okay?"

He gives Ryan a nod, Rafes eyes not taking off of him. A small furrow pulls onto his brow.

"Whatre you doing?"

"What do you mean, son?"

"Why're you sitting there? Dont you have work to do or something?"

"No I'm all good, just watching my son do his thing if that's okay with him."

Rafe can't fight against the smile, also not wanting to make a huge deal when the cameras are still on. No one knows what's being put into the show and they never know what's being exposed to the world.

[not-krys]

[Repost] Can You Hear Me? - Clara & Rio

Part of this set of WIP Wednesdays

This prompt fit really well with Clara and Rio's first meeting, so I thought to expand on that idea. Bear in mind that it's been a hot minute since I've done Rio's route, so I likely got some details wrong.

Raw, unedited writing down below the cut. There's also going to be mentions of blood and injuries too.

-----

The wind was turning colder, Clara could feel it through her woolen cloak. She and Mr. Akatsuki would be back in town soon though. Then she could dry herself out by a warm fire and a pile of blankets in her room. The thought kept her going through the rain and the cold. She looked back at Mr. Akatsuki, looking just as miserable as she felt. Some warm tea would help him, she was sure. Before he headed back to his house, maybe she would ask him to stay until morning, so that his clothes would have a chance to dry.

Clara's thoughts were soon interrupted thunder erupting above her head. She sighed.

"We'll be back home soon," Mr. Akatsuki called out to her, adjusting the pack beside him. "Just a little farther."

Clara shook herself, the rain flicking into the distance from her movement. Her horse snorted.

"Just a little longer," Clara reassured her. "Then, you'll be warm and dry in your stable. You'll be getting some extra apples and oats tonight."

The horse whinnied but continued on as Clara smiled.

Then, the sky crackled again, illuminating the path before them. Clara squinted her eyes, seeing something peculiar in the road.

"What the..."

Lightning flashed again, this time her eyes seeing what the mist had been obscuring in the distance.

"Mr. Akatsuki! There's someone in the road!"

"What-Clara!"

Clara jumped off of her horse, the mud puddles squishing under her boots. She ran to the side of the road and kneeled down, feeling ice cold skin beneath her hand.

"Oh no--you're hurt!"

She turned the man over, red seeping into his light blue coat.

"Hey, can you hear me?" Clara tried again, gently shaking him.

Just as she was considering the worst had happened, the stranger's eyes opened, bleary and delirious.

"What..." he tried to say but he coughed and seized his side.

"Hold still, you're still bleeding."

Clara took out her handkerchief and pressed it into the man's side, pulling his coat off of him. Mr. Akatsuki had caught up to the pair, his eyes carefully scanning the area while Clara fussed over her charge.

"What happened to you..." Clara said softly.

"L-le..." The man tried to speak through clenched teeth.

"Huh?"

"Leave me... Miss..."

"We're not leaving you here. You'll die out here!"

"Clara!" Mr. Akatsuki called out, coming closer to the pair. "The rain is gonna get worse soon."

"Hey, listen," Clara turned back to the man, "Town's not far from here. We can take you there and find you a doctor."

"Please, Miss..." the man pleaded with her, his voice sad, "Leave me here."

"Not a chance!"

Clara whistled for her horse to come closer, finding one of her linen shirts in the pack. She wrapped the cloth around the stranger's middle and pulled off her cloak, the cold hitting her like an icy dagger.

"Sorry about this, sir."

Clara did her best to lift the man up. Though he was lithe in appearance, he was still taller and bigger than her, not to mention he could barely move. With a few grunts from the both of them, she had managed to put him on her horse, thankful for not aggravating his injury further.

"You can go ahead of me, Mr. Akatsuki." Clara called back to her mentor, who seemed to still be observing the scene.

"No, take him into town first," Mr. Akatsuki said, "the injured take priority, remember?"

"...Right."

Mounting carefully and apologizing to her horse, urging her forward.

-----

When the man awoke again, his side was dressed with bandages, blood no longer seeping through the layers. His shoes were gone, but the rest of him was covered with a warm quilt, his head sinking comfortably into a feather pillow.

A fire was going nearby--he could smell the wood burning--with a hint of rose scent in the room as well. Matter of fact, almost everything near him smelled of roses. He couldn't smell salt water nor was there any strong scents of alcohol either. All he could really smell was roses, though he couldn't see any vases near the bed he was laying in. Where was this strong scent coming from he wondered.

Though, he did wonder why he couldn't smell any salt water as he couldn't remember specifically why that would be out of place.

Or really, that he couldn't remember much of anything prior to the young lady rescuing him. He remembered her clearly, remembering her dark hair pulled into a low, messy bun.

And, like the room surrounding him, she smelled of roses. It really was everywhere in this place.

[mochidreambubble]

one more word and you won't survive [Day 4 chapter]

Written for OC x Canon week organised by @theocxcanonweek

Day 4 Prompt:

Cuddling / Western AU / “Take me with you!...”

Childe/Genshin OC. Dragonspine shenanigans - actually more like Sheer Cold shenanigans.

Ao3 link here.

Day 5 prompt here.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ruyi normally doesn’t like equating anything to is childhood; nothing is usually truly as horrid or mentally stressful on such a personal level these days. That said, he could chalk up being lost and close to freezing on Dragonspine a pretty close second…

It was meant to be a simple request and despite his poor sense of direction, he’d normally be fine so long as he kept the Traveler and their little floating friend in sight. But amidst the snowstorm, everything all round him became a blanket of white. 

So it’s no wonder Ruyi finds himself stranded on the mountain, unsure of where he is, to begin with, and absolutely freezing as he wades through the snow. He starts to worry as daylight seemed to be fading from the skies and he could barely make anything out of it. He hates to think what it be like to try and navigate on a snowstorm on a rather steep mountain…

“Squint any further and you’d look like Teyvat’s most miserably drenched kitten.”

Ruyi would jump was he were not genuinely soaked and freezing, and bogged down by snow. Or maybe the smart reaction really was to be stunned in shocked silence mixed with an undercurrent of fear.

“I also don’t think it’s a good idea to be gaping like that you know?” The eleventh freaking Harbinger of the Fatui says, casually as if completely unbothered by the snowstorm. He reaches forward to push Ruyi’s jaw shut, a little amused.

He gets his hand slapped away for good measure, Ruyi stuttering from the cold and disbelief. “Wh-Wha- How….?! Wh-what are y-you d-d-doing here?!”

Childe shrugs. “Just hanging around. Nothing nefarious, promise!” He crosses his heart for good measure, speaking loud against the storm. “Though I guess you don’t believe me?”

“C-Course I d-d-don’t believe you!” Ruyi snaps, turning around in a huff to walk away. He tries to ignore the ache in his heart and the inner shame of having put even the amount of trust he had given the other young man initially. 

“Hey! Where are you going?”

Ruyi doesn’t even respond. He doesn’t make it very far though, a hand grabbing hold of his shoulder firmly and pulling him back.

“Wh-what now?!”

“I’m just trying to stop you from walking off the edge.”

“....Oh.”

“Look, you obviously freezing and it’s not like you can make out where to go right now,” Childe motions vaguely in the opposite direction. “I have a camp and fire set up in a small cave, so how about just coming with me for a bit?”

“W-with you?!”

“Well, it’s my mini campsite right now, after all. I’ve even got blankets and some food with me,” Childe acts as if Ruyi doesn’t seem utterly mortified, still unbothered by the frost beating down on them.

Ruyi blanches again. “You’re crazy if you think I’d go anywhere with you right now?”

Childe sighs, a degree of frustration apparent. “Look, I know I’m not someone you’d want to run into, but I’m not here to antagonise you, alright?”

“But why do you care if I walk off a cliffside or freeze up here?!”

“Consider it an act for your forgiveness. How about that?”

Ruyi does deliberate for a second, between being lost in a snowstorm and following a dangerous man to who knows where. “Fine.”

“Great,” Childe grins and grabs hold of Ruyi’s hand to drag him on a path. Ruyi wonders how he could even be so unbothered by the weather. He knew Snezhnaya was basically known for its icy weather but…

He tries not to think on it. Anything on the eleventh Harbinger shouldn’t even cross his mind. All he has to do is survive the storm and hopefully never run into him again. At least this whole ordeal would be as painless as he can make it-

 “So,” Childe chuckles once they reach the rather tight-fit space for a cave. There was indeed a fire going, as well as a sleeping bag and… “I actually only have one blanket, but we can share it.”

“What?!” Ruyi’s teeth have stopped chattering but he can still feel the chill in his bones. “Now why would I ever-”

“What, you’d rather get frostbite rather than huddle for warmth with a guy you fought just one time?”

“Y-You..! You were not j-just some guy! You-”

“Yes, yes, I’m a horrible person who nearly destroyed your home with Osial,” Childe settles down on the sleeping bag, blanket over his shoulder, raising one side of the blanket in invitation. “Now would you just get over here?”

Ruyi ends up making a reluctant show of it, both absolutely freezing and needing just any source of warmth and the nervousness of being close to Childe in close proximity. Once he’s under the blanket, his heart jumping when Childe wraps his arm over Ruyi’s shoulder along with said blanket, he tries to focus on the flickering flames and the sounds of the howling winds.

“What in the world were you doing out in the mountains all by yourself anyways?” Childe asks, breaking the unspoken promise of silence.

“I wasn’t by myself. I just got separated…”

“From everyone’s favourite Traveler and flying fairy, then?”

Ruyi finds himself turning to face Childe, eyes narrowing slightly. “What’s it to you?”

“Whoa now, I’m just asking friend.”

“Hey, since when were we ever-”

“Hey now, what’s a little bit of sparring anyways?”

“You call what you did back at the Golden House sparring?” Ruyi asks in disbelief.

There’s a grin and glint in his blue eyes. Ruyi rolls his own. “Nevermind, shouldn’t have asked.”

Maybe he was far too tired by wading through the storm, for he accepts a mug with what seemed like broth when Childe passed it over to him without much protest this time.

“...What about you?” Ruyi asks, taking a sip. “What are you doing on Dragonspine, really?”

He hears Childe hum in contemplation. “Fraid I can’t tell you. I’d have to… Silence you permanently if you knew. And I’m deeply hoping to avoid that.”

Ruyi finds himself tensing again, but Childe simply laughs. “Look, I’m taking steps to make sure I won’t, alright?”

“I don’t find the idea of dying a bloody death that humorous…”

“Having you all bloody doesn’t make me happy either you know?” There’s a sombre pause before Childe continues. “Look, I know you probably won’t believe me but I wasn’t enthusiastic on using Osial, you know?”

“But you still went through with it…”

“All that havoc, and all for naught,” The bitterness is greatly apparent. “No gnosis by my hand and I burned every bridge I made in Liyue.”

“What, you’re saying that some of the friendships you made were genuine?”

“A complete game of masks and deceit sounds awfully boring, you know?” Childe gives a small smile. “And I appreciated getting to know you, and a lot of others.”

“...You sound pretty lonely.”

Childe laughs again, but Ruyi could wince at the hollowness of it all. “Nonsense. I get to move around freely as much as I like to on all the missions I get and I get to fight a whole feast of different enemies. How alone could I be?”

There’s a new ache in his heart, but Ruyi can’t find his words. Childe doesn’t continue either. There’s nothing but the fire and storm once more.

…

When Ruyi wakes, his heart almost jumps out of his mouth. He’s warm, but how could he not be, bundled in a blanket and in the freaking arms of his impromptu companion. 

Said companion, unfortunately, gets a rude awakening as a shocking gust of Anemo to the face and strong enough to blast him out of the cave. At least the storm had halted, and it was nothing but a mountain coated in snow and stilled icy air.

“For the record, Ruyi, you were cosying up to me to- Hey, where are you going?!”

And the young man who refused to respond, flustered and now warm enough to potentially melt the snow, continues up the mountain path with the eleventh Harbinger hot on his heels.

(fin)

[laviexenrose]

honorhearted:

Ben broke the kiss long enough to laugh, his eyes squinting at her incredulously. "There were so many innuendos in that sentence that I don't even know where to begin... Though given all your 'big' and 'wood' references, I can certainly draw a sound enough conclusion." Chuckling, he stooped to mouth along her neck, his hands dragging up the fabric of her skirt. "For the record, you also mentioned a 'big heart' on that list. I'm pretty sure you can't ride a heart, so you might want to re-evaluate your priorities."

Isabelle withdrew long enough to burst into a fit of giggles, which prompted Ben to grin and capture her mouth in a kiss, stifling her shrill sounds of mirth. Unable to resist tickling against her ribs, he teased, "Since when am I ever serious? And now I think you owe me a new shirt since you loosened this button...which I'm also not entirely serious about."  

If I greeted you with a robe, you’d had let our dinner get cold.

Ben hummed in agreement. “Okay, you’re definitely right about that...” He leaned into her kiss and opened his mouth to accept her explorative tongue, a stinging heat rising in him once Isabelle nudged her hips into his firm, swollen hardness.

Now? Or Later?

Her hips rolled up more aggressively and he groaned, rocking into her heat in turn. “How could you even think of ‘later’ at a time like this?” he fired back, arching into her touch as she fumbled with his zipper. "Unless, of course, your goal is to punish in this scenario..."

Pinning Isabelle into the cushions, he held fast to her waist while she freed him of his pants, his mouth urging strongly into hers once he ground himself between her thighs. She still tasted of wine and he licked at her, shallowly pushing the head of his cock in and out of her sodden heat. She pulsed wetly around him, making Ben groan into their kiss.

Though just as he drove in to the hilt, panting and shivering above her, he noted the open jar by her head and an impish glimmer came to his eyes. Unable to resist tormenting her, he dipped his fingers into the chocolate paint and then smeared it across her cheek, laughing as he started to roll and grind between her open thighs.

Well, so much for not ruining the moment...

The moment Ben smothered her cheek with a thick layer of chocolate, Isabelle squealed underneath him, giggling as she quickly retaliated by using some of that same chocolate to paint his own face, but she went for his nose instead. Once it was all over her fingers, it was hard to clean herself off, and the result was a mess of chocolate on his neck and shoulders, as well as the couch, which Isabelle hadn’t allowed to spoil their lovemaking. 

Although it never took very long for Ben to send her over the edge, this time, it seemed like she couldn’t help cum within what felt to Isabelle like a matter of seconds. Even if she’d lasted longer before, the climax was just as good and intense, forcing her eyes to roll to the back of her head as her spine arched away from the cushions. 

Shuddering and panting softly, she captured his lips in a slow and sensual, deep kiss that concluded their passion. As she came down from the high, Isabelle withdrew just enough to be able to look up at him, her cheeks hot and flushed while a little smile broke across her features. “That was…” Before she could finish her sentence, Ben was kissing her once again. Happily, she reciprocated with just as much fervor. Her lips were almost numb from all the making out they’d just done, and they still had the remainder of the evening ahead of them. 

Giggling, she moved a hand to his chocolate-smudged face, her thumb rubbing against his cheek. Clearing away some of the paint from his skin, it transferred over to her finger.  With a grin on her face, Isabelle teased, “You have some chocolate right there, and there, and there.” She licked her finger clean, clearly enjoying herself as she hummed in delight over the sweetness of the chocolate on her tongue. “You’re going to need a shower after this,” she said with a soft laugh, shaking her head. But he wasn’t the only one dressed like a strawberry in milk chocolate goodness. 

After pressing her lips to his neck, her tongue took a moment to lick off some of the chocolate paint that had somehow managed to find its way in that particular area. A smile came to her when she heard Ben utter a faint sound of approval. 

[whataboutmyfries]

Wildest dreams (come to life)

Right, so i understand why you'd think this was a paraphrased/mutilated taylor swift song used to hint at a TS songfic but I can promise that this is not that. Instead, have an un-betaed fic that I wrote in multiple fits of midnight/way-too-early-morning fits of inspiration. a wee bit nsfw but no actual explicit-ness

This is, of course prompt number nine (!!!) from this prompt list! the whole collection can also be found on Ao3 here! enjoy!

9. unbuttoning your lover's shirt, pressed against the wall

~

Remus grinned at his husband, wine-drunk and laughing as they stumbled out of the cab, drunkenly waving at the man driving away. Remus could scarcely believe how incredibly happy he was, married to the love of his life, and his best friend (though Lily would kill him if she ever found out. Remus repeatedly promised her she was a very close second, almost tied for first, and she just laughed, elbowing him in the ribs) 

“Thank you, mister Taxi man! You’re the best!” 

Remus laughs, slipping his hand into Sirius’s, twining their fingers together, stealing his husband’s (husband’s) warmth. Sirius turned, the streetlights bringing out the midnight-blue tones in his hair. Remus’s heart did funny things in his chest at the sight of those devastating dimples flashed in his direction. He grinned right back, his knees going a little weak and his heart taking to fluttering happily, thumping unsteadily at the thought that he got to bring this stunning man home (to their home)

Sirius’s wink was all the warning he got before he yanked Remus into his side, his strong arm coming to catch Remus around the waist, the two of them laughing and stumbling (just a little) to the front door, Remus doubling over in laughter when Sirius dropped the keys (twice).

Sirius glared at him, bending over to get the key into the keyhole, his tongue peeking out of the corner of his mouth as he squinted at the handle. 

Remus, meanwhile, was far too preoccupied observing the delicious curve of his husband’s (Husband!!!!) arse. He grinned, his face scrunching up with joy as he gently patted Sirius’s ass through his jeans. 

“Hmmmmm” Sirius stood up triumphantly, having finally gotten the door open. He turned to look at Remus, stumbling just a little with how quickly he spun on his heel. 

“Remus John Lupin-Black, did you just hum and pet my arse like it’s some sort of absurd…..cat-creature?” Sirius chuckled at the end of his sentence, awfully pleased with himself at his little joke. 

Remus shrugged, leaning forward to wrap his hands around Sirius’s shoulders (damn, his husband had some nice shoulders.), “Well, it’s a very nice arse. It’s not like I could just stop myself.” 

Sirius wrapped his arms around Remus’s waist, trying and failing to hide the amusement in his voice as he pulled his husband closer. 

“Oh, you just couldn’t stop yourself, huh? My mistake then, carry on.” 

Remus grinned, tipping his head to lean closer into Sirius’s space, their lips brushing as he said, “Ask nicely, and maybe I will.” 

Sirius’s eyes heated, the hands at Remus’s waist gripping tighter as his heart raced, his breath hitching at the fire in Remus’s words. 

Remus cocked an eyebrow, grinning against his husband’s lips as Sirius tugged him into their house, kicking the door shut behind them (and pinning Remus against it), never parting their lips for so much as a second while he devoured Remus like a man starved. Remus grinned devilishly, exceptionally pleased with the effect he had on his husband; Sirius bit playfully at his lip in return and Remus groaned into the kiss, scrambling to un-tuck the half of Sirius’s shirt that was still tucked neatly into the (sinfully, delightfully, deliciously) fitted trousers he’d worn for the special occasion. Sirius caught on, and Remus let out a debauched moan as Sirus’s head dropped to his neck, sucking at where his pulse ratcheted against his husband’s positively sinful mouth. 

“Bedroom, darling?” Remus gasped out as Sirius did unholy things‌ to his neck and collarbones, his warm hands finding their way up Remus’s shirt, nimble fingers tracing the dips in his spine. 

Sirius just hummed, tracing a path up Remus’s neck only to capture his lips in a devastating kiss, his weight pinning Remus to the door as his nimble fingers made quick work of the buttons of Remus’s shirt, warm hands eagerly shoving the fabric off of warm skin to let Sirius mouth at the newly exposed skin. 

Remus couldn’t help his choked moan as Sirius mouthed a trail down his body, stopping only when Remus’s head thunked gently against the door. 

Mercury eyes met hazel, and Sirius smirked. 

“Eyes on me Lupin” 

(Holy fucking mother of god fucking CHRIST motherfucking fucking god how is he so ho—) 

Remus could have sworn his brain fused out when he saw Sirius on his knees, looping up at him as he unfastened Remus’s trousers. He took a second to marvel at how gorgeous his husband looked like this; utterly debauched, his shirt hanging open on his (positively edible) shoulders, the tie he’d untied and slung around the back of his neck brushing against his muscled torso as he looked up at Remus (he was on his knees. For Remus. Formeformehe’sallmineforever)

Remus’s heart burst into a thousand shimmering pieces as Sirius pressed reverent kisses to his thighs, pausing only to suck bruises into the muscle of Remus’s v-line and Remus groaned, already imagining how pretty they’d look the next day. His hips thrusted involuntarily as Sirius bit gently at the spot he’d just licked and Remus twined his fingers through Sirius’s hair, tugging him up to kiss him desperately. 

“Bed. Definitely bed.” 

Sirius laughed, the sound pressed into the soft skin of Remus’s shoulder. For just a second, Remus could have sworn he could feel it fill him up with a glowing warmth, spreading from Sirius’s lips all the way into his very soul. 

“Bed it is.” 

Remus let out a choked gasp as Sirius picked him up in one smooth motion, Remus’s legs going around his waist almost on instinct. Sirius smiled, pulling Remus impossibly closer as he reached up for a soft, slow kiss. 

“Happy five years, mister Lupin-Black” 

Remus looked down at the face of his most fantastic dreams come to life. He smiled, incandescently happy as he cupped Sirius’s face in his hands to kiss him again. 

“Happy five years, mister Black-Lupin”

~

Comments and reblogs are stored in a jar on a shelf to help bring this author joy and glee when the motivation runs dry :))

[writing-good-vibes]

water park for your fave sinclair

bug my love !! 💗 thank you for sending something through !! as much as i love all of the boys, bo is always has always had the tightest grip on my heart,, but as this is me and i'm so deeply loathe to part the terrible twins, vince will make an appearance too💗 WARNING for very lightly implied smut (i'm sorry there isn't more !!)

[☀ requests for summer prompts are still open, and will be all month ☀]

bo sinclair (water park)

Behind the Sinclair house was a long, sloping stretch of scrub. It petered down to the woodland that surrounded Ambrose and no matter how much Bo tried, it always seemed to dry out in the summer. Instead of a picturesque green lawn (like something out of those stupid house and garden magazines you bought sometimes), it was parched and brown, the dirt beneath sending dust clouds up as you trudged across it beneath the blazing Louisiana sun.

You didn't mind though, you could lay a towel down and you were content for the day. Usually. Especially when Bo would stop by periodically, between his meddlings and fixings of the town.

Perhaps you were in a nostalgic mood, but as you lay beneath the midday sun, you thought back to the summers of your youth. Trips to the shore and fingers sticky with popsicles. Sunburnt noses and water parks.

You sit up, looking down the vast and parched slope.

***

"Do you have a spare tarp I can borrow?"

Bo's legs twitch in surprise, but he doesn't make a sound. He rolls out from under the car he was working on, squinting at the sudden onslaught of sun in his eyes.

"What was that, darl'?"

"Do you have a spare tarp?"

"Tarp?" he asks, wiping his hands off on a rag but not yet standing up. "Probably, what for? Has Vince sent you fetchin'-carryin'?"

"No, not Vince. I've not seen him this morning. No, it's for me --" you cut yourself off, narrowing your eyes at Bo. "You gotta promise not to laugh."

He chuckles in response, "Now darl', you know I can't promise nothin' like that."

You sneer back. "Fine. I was thinking about years ago, I went to this water park. Call it nostalgia, but I was gonna put a tarp down on the scrub, get a hose running on it."

Bo raises an eyebrow, finally standing up and walking across the forecourt, towards the garage. "Water park, huh? And where we getting all this water from?"

"Aw, c'mon Bo, please! It's boiling hot, and Jonesy will love it." Jonesy is a sure-fire way to get any of the brothers to agree to most anything.

"Darlin', we --," Bo starts, but when he turns back to check you're following him into the garage, he see's that puppy dog look in your eyes. "Darlin'," it's half scolding and half pleading with you to stop looking at him like that.

"Please?"

Bo shuts his eyes, takes a deep breath. "Fine."

***

He helps you carry two tolls of tarp up behind the house, helps roll them flat on the scrub and pin them down with tent pegs. He helps you fit the hose to the outside tap and dowse the plastic with water. Pokes holes in a spare length of hose and rigs it to keep a constant flow down the incline.

Bo watches, with a faint sense of amusement, as you take off running towards the makeshift slide and leap forward. You squeal in delight as you whizz off down the slope, water spraying and you skid to a stop at the bottom.

"C'mon," you call, hurrying back up to the top, the dry grass poking at the soles of your feet. "You gotta have a turn."

"Why?" Bo asks, though he starts to toe his worn shoes from his feet. "When I have such a nice view from right here?"

Readying yourself to go again, you cast a coy look over your bare shoulder.

Bo raises an eyebrow, and with that, you're off again.

It takes a while for Bo to loosen up, but slowly, slowly, his clothes come off. First his shoes, then his socks, then his shirt. He takes a break to lie back in the grass and watch you for a while, before his work pants come off and he is left in his boxers.

You think this might be the extent of his involvement, as he flexes and suns himself on the towel you'd long since discarded.

But then Vincent arrives, drawn up from the basement by your squeals. Jonesy is hot on his heels, hoping around excitedly.

As he rounds the side of the house, you're at the other side of the scrubland, having landed just at the edge of the tree line.

Jonesy makes a beeline for you, stopping only to snap at the water coming from the hose before sliding of down the tarp. With open arms, you catch her at the bottom. She yaps happily, running circles around you once you're both back on your feet.

Vincent wanders closer, watching the scene, before coming to a stop next to Bo.

Bo squints up at his twin, leaning back up on his elbows. Even Vincent can't stay strong through this heat, it seems. He's wearing a slightly ratty t-shirt and his work trousers, though he still has his hoodie with him, tied firmly around his waist.

"I thought you were working?" he asks, crouching down to Bo's eye level.

Bo chuckles, "I was, but how do you expect me to say no to my baby..." he starts off sweetly. The two of them watch you walking towards them, readjusting your bikini top. "Especially when she's dressed like that."

Vincent swats at Bo's shoulder half-playfully. There's a red hue spreading over his skin and the slap stings. "Keep it in your pants, would you?"

"What're you boys talkin' about?" you smile, laying down besides Bo. Jonesy circles the three of you before sidling up to Vincent, nosing his leg with her wet muzzle

"Nothing," the twins insist, though Bo's smirk gives you a pretty good idea.

"Right," you roll your eyes. Then, you poke Bo's arm softly, watch the redness turn white and then back again. "Anyway, s'your go."

Bo raises an eyebrow, "Oh, is it now?"

"I'd've thought you'd wanna show us how it's done, right?" You were baiting him. He knew you were baiting him. But, he supposed he could bite. For you.

He pretends to make a fuss of it, sighing as he stands up. He looks back over his shoulder as he crosses the grass to where the hose is still dousing the tarp.

Vincent twists on the balls of his feet and sits down with a thump, his forearms resting on his knees.

Bo looks back, one more time, winks at you and then leaps. He almost has a divers physique, agile and streamline as he slides down the tarp.

You let out a whoop from the side-lines, clapping as Bo reaches the bottom and, in a feat beyond your comprehension, manages to roll up into a standing position at the end of the tarp slide. He pushes his soaked hair back, the curls sticking flat to his temples.

Bo looks awfully pleased with himself as he jogs back to you and Vincent, "How was that?"

***

You while away the afternoon in this way, taking turns on the tarp slide and watching fondly as Jonesy makes the most of all of the excitement. She takes a few turns on the tarp, but is happy enough to play with the hose or to snooze, laying up against Vincent's leg.

Vincent himself declines all offers to have a go on the slide, content to watch Bo make a fool of himself every time he doesn't make a landing and ends up skidding off towards the trees.

At some point, when the heat is just starting to dissipate, Vincent leaves to make a start on dinner, taking Jonesy with him.

That leaves you and Bo, spread languidly on the scrubby grass.

"Thanks for helping set all this up today, it's been a real nice day," you say, rolling onto your stomach so you can watch Bo as he sunbathes.

Bo's eyes are closed, but he still replies, "That's alright darl', what kinda man would I be if I didn't keep you happy?" He lifts a hand, maybe to hold yours, maybe just to gesture.

You chose to lean into him, so his hand cups your cheek. "Bo Sinclair, you are a very good man."

He laughs, is low and dark, darker than you think he meant to. His eyes snap open, watching your expression. You don't move away from his hand.

"Am I?"

"Sometimes," you shrug. You tilt your head, pressing a kiss to his palm. "And sometimes," you push yourself up, throwing your leg over his hips to straddle him. His hands find their place on your sides, thumbs rubbing the exposed skin. "Sometimes you are a very bad man indeed."

[landinoandco]

An Unlikely Grand Prix

Daniel Ricciardo x reader

Warnings: flufffff

Word count: 2.1k

Requests are open :)

The Belgium Grand Prix was one that was highly anticipated - not only did it mark the end of the summer break and start to the second part of the season but it also promised some quality racing with its high speed corners.

You and Daniel were sitting in your hotel room on Sunday morning, a drink of coffee in your hand and a vitamin smoothie in his, your laptop open in front of you as you made some edits to the latest version of your book. You were an author and about to finish the final edit of your new novel.

“Have you seen the weather forecast for today?” He asked, leaning onto his forearms. You looked over your laptop lid and nodded, taking off your glasses.

“I have, you better be careful. It was bad enough in qualifying yesterday - “ You paused, saving your work and closing your laptop down. “I don’t care what people say - wet races always make me nervous. They shouldn’t have sent you out in Q3, it was hard to watch.”

A silence fell between the both of you, Daniel watched with a softness in his eyes. He knew exactly how you felt and he loved how supportive you were of him. You were his biggest fan and he could not be more thankful for it - you were there for him every weekend through rain and sunshine and through good races and bad races. You knew him better than anyone.

“I will be as careful as I can -” He reached across the table and took your hand in his. “I really feel like I’m getting somewhere though - P4.” He exclaimed, a smile flashing across his handsome features. You brushed your thumb over his hand.

“It was a really good lap - especially given the weather.” You agreed.

You moved your gaze to the window - the steady sound of rain hitting the hotel window filled the room.

“It’s definitely going to be a tense one.” Daniel muttered, pushing his chair back and getting up. You followed and made your way to the door, shrugging on your coat as you went.

The rain was pouring down as though the heavens above had opened - Daniel held an umbrella above both of you, sheltering you from the downpour. Members from different teams raced around the paddock to dry shelter - the buzz of conversation could already be heard from the grandstand in front of the pitlane. You admired the dedication of the fans; it was far from just a shower and for those exposed without even the slightest of cover would be drenched to the bone even by now and the grand prix was far from starting.

You looked over to Dan, his eyes twinkling and a spring in his step told you that he was looking forward to today’s race. His eyes flickered down to meet your gaze, bumping his shoulder into yours causing you to chuckle.

It was incredible to think about all of the things you two had managed to fit into 3 (going on 4) years. You met each other on the top of Table Mountain in Cape Town, you were there plotting for your next novel and Daniel was there hiking with his friends…

You were sat on a rock, looking out to the city of Cape Town tucked away under the mountain range - you were out in South Africa on an escape from the cramped conditions of London. You had a deadline quickly approaching to come up with a plot for your next book and as of that moment you still weren’t any closer to coming up with the next bestseller. Sure, you had ideas but they were yet to set a light a fire of motivation in you.

You had zoned out, your gaze attached to a bird soaring across the landscape ahead of you when a sudden voice pulled you swiftly out.

“Whatchu’ writing about?” The man asked, his tone was bright and as you looked over at him you saw the beaming smile stretched across his features. His eyes showed a confident but kind manner, brown curls stuck to his forehead and the beginnings of a beard covered the bottom half of his face.

“If I knew, I would tell you.” You quipped back, turning to face the man in order to see him properly. He had a muscular physique, no doubt a sportsman - you had thought at the time - an explosion of colour seeping out from his shorts caught your eye as you clocked the tattoos; they weren’t the only ones either as little drawings were littered over his hands and arms.

“Nice tattoos.” You complimented, nodding over to him. If it was at all possible, his smile grew larger and he put his fist out.

“I’m Daniel, by the way, Daniel Ricciardo.”

The rest was history - an adventure packed history. One filled with enough adrenaline to last you for the rest of your existence. The introductions had also prompted your next plot idea so the following week when you had returned to London you turned it into your agent - who had immediately loved the outline you had presented.

A few hours later and the start of the Belgium grand prix was approaching but still the track was resembling more of a spa - ironically - than a safe and functional track. Dan walked in from the drivers parade and shivered - his coat having provided no cover.

Frowning, you got up and handed him a towel, “What are the conditions like?” Nerves laced your tone. Dan sat down, shrugging, “They’re what we expected them to be like but it’s really rough. If we can even see 6 feet ahead it would be a miracle.”

A miracle was something they were all desperate for and before they knew it the race had been red flagged - deemed too dangerous to race so all of the teams were in their garages coming up with ways to entertain themselves.

You had made your way out of the McLaren garage to join Daniel who was wandering up and down the pitlane looking for a way to cause havoc.

You crept up to him and grabbed his shoulders and shouted: “boo,” in his ear causing him to jump up in shock and scream. You and many witnesses were doubled over in laughter as the Australian held his hand to his chest.

“I just came to say -” You started, “That you looked like you were about to do something mischievous and I wanted in on whatever your plan was.”

Dan looked at you with complete adoration in his eyes, a lopsided grin formed on his face. At that moment, he had never loved you more. It was a strange feeling that he couldn’t quite describe - it was just one he felt warming up his entire body. One thing he had always adored about you was the way you understood him - at the beginning of the relationship he knew you had found it hard to deal with his childish, devil may care attitude. As soon as you relaxed more around him, you two became more comfortable with one another - you decided to try his way of living. Letting fate take you to your next adventure and enjoying the unpredictability of it all. From your first adrenaline seeking adventure Dan had managed to persuade you to join him in - he knew he had found his partner in crime. Most importantly, Dan had taught you a way of living that was more enjoyable, a way of living that allowed you to get more out of life and push your comfort zone right to the limit.

“I have a few ideas.” He smirked, then grabbed your hand twirling you around as though you were ballroom dancing.

“What are you doing?” You giggled, the corners of your eyes crinkled as he pulled you into his chest, guiding one of your hands to rest on his shoulder as he grasped the other in his and held them up as though you were dancing the waltz; finally placing his hand on your waist.

“I don’t suppose you would have seen it but in 2015, the American qualifying was cancelled due to rain and to pass the time I danced with my teammate. I figured I would make a tradition of it.” He explained, twirling you around again.

“Did Lando not want to dance with you?” You questioned, the corners of your lips quirked up. Daniel stopped and took a step back. For a moment you thought you had said something wrong but then a spray of water splashed up the front of your coat. Gasping, you wiped the water from your face and Daniel’s smug smile came into focus. You looked down to where he was standing and saw a gaping hole that had now filled up with water.

“You little-” You had begun, a smile betraying you entirely as it crept upon your features. You wanted to pretend to be angry but he had caught you off guard.

“I thought that you would be a nicer dance partner - but apparently not.” He retorted, biting down on his lip in an attempt to stifle his laughter at your facial expressions. You looked at him and then down at the puddle, back at Daniel and then decided what your next move would be; before you could however he had picked you up over his shoulder, spinning around happily.

“Daniel-” You protested, having to close your eyes to avoid feeling motion sick. You heard him chortle then give in as you felt your two feet touch the ground once again. You pouted at him, strands of hair now stuck to your forehead - it was a sight to behold. Daniel’s heart skipped a beat, his breath becoming shallower as he brushed the loose strands of hair from your face. He had decided at that moment that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you, he was ready to start the next chapter of his life with you. It would be a brand new adventure and probably the scariest yet.

“Marry me.” He mumbled, brushing his thumb over your cheek. He froze, an idea sparked, turning on his heel he fled in the direction of the McLaren garage.

Your eyebrows drew together in confusion, your heart thumping against your ribs. Drawing your lower lip between your teeth, you glanced around you only to realise the whole of the pitlane and grandstand of fans had fallen silent - watching on in anticipation. Had they heard what he had said? How could they have, Daniel had muttered so quietly even you had struggled to hear the words that tumbled from his lips. Little did you know, a camera had caught every moment and you were now the sole focus as you waited for Daniel to come back.

Moments later and he was running out of the McLaren garage, something in his left hand. You squinted to get a better look, from where you were standing all you could see was a flash of blue - but as he came closer you realised what he was holding was in fact a Haribo packet.

Your hands flew to cover your mouth, you knew exactly what he was about to do. You were fighting back tears of joy as he opened the haribo packet and pulled out a gummy ring, got down on one knee and said: “Marry me. Our new adventure, just you and me. My partner in crime.”

Tears ran down your cheeks as you nodded fervently, words appearing to fail you. You flung your arms around his neck. There was an eruption of cheer from around you, as fans whistled and clapped and fellow teams called out in congratulations.

You placed a hand either side of Daniel’s face, tears shone in his eyes. To most a gummy ring would seem immature - laughable even but to you, it confirmed to you how much you loved the man standing in front of you. The gummy ring he had presented to you meant so much more than being a Haribo. It represented you both as a couple. A love that was unconditional and would never get old and yet whilst you both would age - the love you had for one another would stay youthful, unpredictable and exciting.

You were more than ready to start the next chapter of your adventure with the man you loved most.

[secretobsessionstuff]

25 & 68 for dakota & blair ? <333

Thank you! The prompts come from this THIS lovely list and I used:

25. "What are you doing up? It's the middle of the night."

68. “You’re starting to scare me.”

CW: Graphic descriptions of vomiting, mentions of neglectful and drunk parent, fever delirium.

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

Dakota’s side of the bed was empty and cold when a harsh cough woke Blair up from her sleep. One look at the clock told her it was almost three in the morning. The cough came from the bathroom down the hall. She would have left it alone, assuming that Dakota was coming right back, but she didn’t like the feel of the cold sheets beneath her hand. He must have been gone a while if the blankets had lost all of his warmth.

The coughing continued, and soon moans of pains joined in symphony. Blair didn’t like the sound of any of it as she walked down the dark hallway. The door to the bathroom was open but the light wasn’t on. Casted in shadows, Dakota sat against the wall. His hair was a mess of tangles that blocked his face as if he’d been running his hands through the brown strands.

Blair squinted through the dark. “What are you doing up? It’s the middle of the night.”

Dakota flinched at the sudden appearance of his girlfriend who he clearly hadn’t heard coming down the hall. Before he could answer however, he started coughing again which quickly turned into gags. He moved closer to the toilet that already had its it lid up.

“You’re sick,” she said, kneeling down next to him. It wasn’t a question. She could hear the truth of the statement in his laboured breathing and see it in his colorless face.

Dakota nodded his head weakly when the fit stopped. He didn’t seem to have any air left to speak. “…feel nauseous.”

“You should have woken me up.” She put one hand on his chest and the other on his forehead. His skin was clammy and slick with sweat, oh and completely on fire. The intense heat on his brow made her pull her hand away in shock. “Kota, you’re burning up.”

Dakota closed his eyes and let his chin fall towards his chest. “I feel weird, Bee.” His words were hardly distinct as they all slurred into one long sound. He swallowed thickly before gagging over the toilet bowl.

“That’s because of your fever, babe,” Blair said while rubbing his back. He hadn’t thrown up yet, but she could hear the turmoil in his belly. “Let’s focus on one problem at a time. I don’t want to give you fever reducers if you’re just going to throw it up.”

He whined while hugging his stomach. “But my head is so…so dizzy. And I’m—” A deep gag interrupted his ramblings, forcing his shoulders to roll forward. Saliva dripped from his open mouth while the apple in his throat bobbed as if drowning in bile.

“Shh, you’re okay,” Blair cooed, trying to sound calm for his sake, meanwhile her face was scrunched up in concern and sympathy. “Your body knows what it needs.” As she said this, Blair wasn’t entirely sure that such a high fever was what he needed.

Dakota half-coughed and half-burped up the first surge of vomit. It rushed from his mouth and his nose, but he didn’t have the chance to wince at the burn in his throat. The next bout came up right behind, this one much bigger than the last. It splashed into the water below. Thankfully his eyes were closed from the force of each heave.

Surprisingly, he did stop. But he didn’t have the energy to do anything but rest his head on the toilet seat and whimper in pain. “Mmh, my stomach hurts so bad.”

Blair hoped that her voice didn’t sound tearful as she spoke. “Do you want me to rub it?”

“Okay…” he said, his words laced with nausea.

Even that ‘okay’ sounded hopeless. Like he’d given up on anything making him feel better. Still, Blair rubbed his stomach because she wasn’t about to let him suffer in pain.

“If you don’t throw up again for fifteen minutes, I’ll give you some medicine,” she said while spreading her palm over his aching belly.

Dakota didn’t say anything to that. He simply put his head in Blair’s lap. It was much comfier than resting on the toilet seat. With her other hand, she immediately started rubbing his head, letting her nails glide along his scalp. It helped more than she knew.

And it helped for the next twenty minutes.

Blair gently lifted his head from her lap. “I’ll be right back. I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t die while I’m gone.”

She was trying to lighten the mood, but Dakota’s complete lack of response made the whole thing worse. He didn’t even react when she set his head down on the floor. With one last touch of his cheek, she left the bathroom, feeling like her boyfriend was only a shell.

His shell was cracking. His body was heating up from the inside. Through these cracks, only tears escaped. It was disorientating and scary for Dakota who felt like he no longer had control of his mind. He could have sworn that he was sinking into the flooring.

The oddest thought popped into his head when his belly did another flip: he couldn’t be sick. There was no one to watch him if he stayed home from school. Mom would be passed out somewhere, unable or unwilling to make him feel better. And dad had to go to work. He had to work, so Dakota, you aren’t allowed to be sick.

As he shivered on the cold floor, someone knelt down next to him. They tucked their hand under his back to help him sit up. But Dakota didn’t want to sit up. He realized that the hand felt familiar—a girl’s.

In her cupped hand, Blair held two pills. There was also a glass of water that she placed next to her. But first he had to get up. “Come on, Kota, you have to do this.”

“I don’t want to,” he mumbled, eyes fluttering. He couldn’t tell if he was struggling to open his eyes or close them. He knew which option he preferred. “Lemme stay home.”

“Huh? Babe, you don’t have to go anywhere. Just take these pills, please.”

Dakota continued to mumble, not even hearing Blair. He was having his own conversation with a different girl. She was so annoying. “Logan, just leave.” He wanted to be left alone. Ten was old enough to be home alone, especially if he was just going to sleep off this flu all day.

Blair frowned upon realizing who he was talking to. Logan was his sister. He always said she was annoying. This was bad. “Dakota, you’re starting to scare me. I think we should go to the hospital.”

“No,” Dakota whined. His eyes were closed so tight as if he were having a nightmare. “Don’t get dad. He’s busy.”

Blair dropped the pills. The hospital would be a much better solution to this problem. She put both her hands on his body, hating how he curled in on himself in pain. His pajamas were damp with sweat. She didn’t think he was going to be very cooperative in this state, so she put herself in a position where he would listen. “He’s never too busy to help.”

Blair thought back to all the conversations she had with Dakota about his dad. He was a busy man, trying to take care of twins and a drunk wife. Then later, trying to gain custody of his twins. He kept working. He kept loving. Dakota’s fever must have burned away the memories of him always being there, always sacrificing his needs for his kids. This version of his dad—who was too busy to care for his sick children—was not real.

“You’re sick,” she said. “You need help.”

Or maybe Dakota wasn’t creating a false version of his dad, but a version of himself that he wished he could have been. At ten, he might have wished he didn’t need help, that he could stay home by himself so that his dad could go to work.

Dakota moaned and reached out for…someone. Blair grabbed his hand and brought it up to her lips. He was shaking. “’M…tired, Bee.”

Bee. Blair let out a nervous laugh. “Yeah, yeah I’m here. I’m Bee.” It was a silly thing to say, but she was beyond grateful that it was true. She was Bee, and she was there. “You don’t need to be alone. You’re tired, so lean on me.”

And she meant that literally because she began the slow process of helping him up. First, he had to sit up. He occasionally mumbled things that only his sister would understand, but all Blair cared about was getting him help.

[imgoingtofreakoutnow]

Until the last note plays

Summary: After his funeral, Elijah comes back to you for one last dance; one last goodbye.

Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x reader

Prompt: "We slow dance in the living room, but all that a stranger would see / is one girl swaying alone stroking her cheek" — Liability, Lorde

Warnings: angst, slight mentions of death

Words: ~800

A/n: This is my entry for @elijahs-wife 1k followers writing challenge. I'm surprised I finally managed to write this because I had a completely different idea in mind but still, I think this turned out pretty nice! I hope you all enjoy!💗

Taglist: @elijahs-wife @hellotvshowtrash @dumble-daddy @nalledimessi @xxwritemeastoryxx @mrs-maximoff-kenner @lady-salvatore @thatweirdoleigh

A sweet, cracky music woke you up, insinuating in a dream you forgot the moment you opened your eyes. All it left behind was the bitter feeling of leaving too soon.

The bright light confused you for a whole minute before you realized you weren't in the dark embrace of your bedroom. You were in the living room, laying on the sofa and bathing in the dawn's sunshine. The thick curtains on your windows were wide open, forgotten there in the weariness of the previous night.

Squinting your tired eyes, you slowly got up to bring darkness back in the house. The golden rays wounded your eyes this early in the morning like burning needles.

The music that woke you up still caressed your ears, a dreamlike melody that you didn't know but spoke to your heart in more ways than one. It took you a couple more steps to realize the music was anything but a dream.

You turned to your gramophone, an old thing you had found many years before in a small thrift store but never managed to make it work, on which a record was slowly playing. The unknown chords swayed in the air like tiny, invisible dancers.

"Do you like it, my love?"

Your heart jumped in your throath when you heard his voice, its steady beat now racing head to head with your disjointed thoughts. It couldn't be him. As much as you wished it would, it simply couldn't...

"I told you that I could fix it."

He placed his arms around your waist, drawing you closer and pressing his body against your back, and you drowned in the smell of his cologne, fresh and poignant as you remembered. Closing your eyes, you leaned against him as his lips gently stroked your skin, a feathery touch on your neck.

You placed your hands on his, gripping tight as you turned your head towards him. When his eyes met yours, you felt the lump in your throat grow even more, almost cutting your breath off.

"Elijah..."

Many words begged to be spoken, full of pain, anger, love. All of them fought in your lungs to be the first to finally leave the cage between your ribs with your next breath. But above them all, only a few won.

"I miss you so much." A tired whisper that rolled easily off your heart.

He didn't answer right away. He kissed your forehead, lingering there enough to silence all your thoughts, bringing a calmness in your mind that only he was able to create. When he finally spoke, his breath was warm like a summer wind.

"I know, my love... but I'm here now."

As you let yourself cradle in his comforting touch, Elijah started swaying with the slow rhythm of the song. His head was gently resting against yours, your bodies fitting perfectly with each other.

Not one edge out of place, not one hole left empty.

"The song is almost finished" he murmured in your ear, his grave voice vibrating in your chest.

And then I'll have to go. That was the rest of the sentence that he didn't dare to utter, but those unspoken words reached you nonetheless.

"I wish it could go on forever..." You held tighter on Elijah's arms as his grip started loosening. "I'm not ready to let you go."

"You don't have to. Not yet." He kissed your cheek so lightly, and despite the feeling that bloomed under your skin, it tasted like goodbye. "You can't recover from a wound in one single night. Time and care are what you need to-"

"Forget?"

"Heal."

"I will never heal from your love."

You turned towards him, finally facing him with tears on the verge of falling. His steady silhouette had been replaced with a mere ghost of what he had been. The sunshine coming from the window shone through him, making his features seem even more ethereal.

Despite your trembling hands, you placed them on both sides of his face, you thumbs softly caressing his cheeks. With every note that flew out of the gramophone, his skin felt less and less real to you.

"You were everything and more, Elijah. My heart will never stop bleeding as long as it beats in my chest."

The small smile that graced his lips was full of sadness and regrets but still managed to light your heart on fire. That was all it always took for you to burn. His smile.

As the last chords echoed in the air, you kissed him. For a second, you were one. For a second, Elijah was back with you, alive. For a second, everything felt in place.

I love you.

Then the music stopped.

You woke up frantically on the sofa, short breaths leaving your dry mouth. Eyes heavy with smudged make-up and tears, you looked around but couldn't see a thing. It was still night outside.

The black clothes that you wore to Elijah's funeral stuck to your body like a second skin.

Closing your eyes, you could still feel him. His touch, his breath on your skin, as what had just happened wasn't just a dream.

But the gramophone was silent on the other side of the room, broken as it always had been.

"I love you too" you whispered to the darkness, the only thing left apart from memories in that empty house.

[anika-ann]

Words Whispered in the Dark

Type: Modern-college-professor AU - part of Attached series or a standalone

Pairing: professor!Steve Rogers x reader   Word count: 6250🙈

Summary: There are things, intimate desires, which people simply don’t want to talk about out loud. Since you prefer writing those down, it applies twice as much. 

Steve supports your writing – but what he’d think about your newest story… well, you’re not sure you wanted to know.

Warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, bondage, oral (M rec), consensual sensory deprivation, praise kink & body worship, ‘babygirl’, fingering, dom/sub undertones & implied age gap & professor-student dynamic & cumplay if you squint, language ---- (let me know if I missed any…why is the list so long wtf)

A/N: Can be read as a standalone. Part of the Attached ‘verse with professor!Steve.

A/N: For Siri’s 5K Soft Dark Challenge. Congratulations to the rightfully earned milestone ❤️ Thank you for hosting the challenge and kindly including even soft fics (even though I feel like my soft got lost in translation a bit).

Prompt: “Oh, honey, you weren’t supposed to see that.” - bold in the text, pls don’t @ me for the way I used it.

Stepping back into your and Steve’s shared bedroom and study room in one, you froze on spot, heart leaping to your throat.

You were lucky you didn’t drop your coffee and snack upon the sight of him, your fingers gripping the items tighter in surprise instead. But fuck, was it a close call.

Because few minutes ago, you moved to the kitchen to grab some refreshments for your brain. Relaxed air had settled over your tiny but loving household on a late Sunday morning; Steve was chilling on the bed, while you sat by your desk, laptop in your lap as your fingers danced over the keyboard, putting into words your latest… uhm, story. It was going great too and being able to steal glances at your gorgeous fiancé and muse in one person was a pleasant bonus.

Steve was, as sheepish as it sometimes made you, well-acquainted with your passion for writing, even rooting for you in his fully-supportive partner mode at all times. He read a few things of yours, both dirty and sweet ones, and he seemed to be genuinely enjoying himself. You weren’t hiding things from him, never had to; and damn, did it feel good for both of you.

So technically, you knew there was a chance you’d find him behind your desk, eyes skimming over your words since you left the computer opened, just like the document, but… well.

Nothing could prepare you for the sight on him actually doing it, shoulders tense, Adam’s apple bobbing, breathing shaky as his chest kept rising and falling irregularly.

Your own breath hitched at the sight, face feeling like set aflame, pulse hammering in your temples.

Oh no. Oh shit. This wasn’t happening--

Truth was, you really had no problem sharing your stories with Steve. But this one… well, fuck. You were so fucking screwed.

“Oh---oh honey,” you stuttered, the endearment you rarely used tasting foreign on your tongue. That was how out of it you were upon realizing what was happening here.

Steve was reading it. Steve was reading that thing. That shameless, entirely dubious thing that--- this was bad. Bad, bad, bad, really fucking bad—he hadn’t run for the hills before, no matter how filthy your stories got, but now he certainly would.

Steve’s head snapped to you at instant, cheeks flushed, eyes wide as he was caught red-handed.

“You- uh, you weren’t supposed to… see that,” you stuttered awkwardly, still unable to move an inch.

Maybe you should run for the hills just so you wouldn’t have to deal with the aftermath?

He didn’t react apart from spinning in the chair to face you, throat working again as his gaze trailed up and down your figure clad in a simple shirt and shorts, fluffy socks to keep your feet warm. Despite your plain outfit, his gaze burned with intensity and dare to say hunger, enough to stir heat in your belly.

Realizing this might be the last time you’d ever see him (okay, that was a bit of an exaggeration, maybe, but better safe than sorry), you let yourself to take him in as well, again, even if you knew every line of his body, every detail. The cut of his jaw, tendons in his throat tense as well as his shoulders, long fingers griping the armrests, legs slightly parted, accenting the unmistakable growing bulge between them.

Your heart skipped a startled and excited beat. Oh. Well. At least he liked what he read, you supposed, even if all bells in your head were ringing it alarm, because… that. That kind of story would be a little too much for him, you had thought.

Was it?

“Come here,” he whispered, voice hoarse as if he had just woken up, the same voice that caressed your ear as he rutted into you, in the lazy loving which so perfectly fit a morning like this.

Willing your feet to move, teeth sunk into your lower lip, your fluffy socks padded almost soundlessly against the floor as you obeyed his request.

He gestured for you to rid yourself of the items in your hands; once again, you obliged.

The second your hands were free, he grabbed your wrist, pulling you in for a dirty kiss, fingers sinking into your hair to keep you exactly where he wanted you. Sighing in relief, you relaxed into his affection and he wasted no time licking into your mouth, his free hand gripping onto your shirt (his shirt) to drag you into his lap.

A hazardous position in an office chair, one might think. But you had a lot of practice with your favourite professor.

Sliding lower in the seat and pulling you up, Steve positioned you to his liking, drawing an appreciative hum from you as his erection rubbed deliciously against your core. You felt him smile into the kiss at the little sound you made, his fingers digging into your flesh in order to press you into him further, rutting against your quickly dampening centre.

Okay, who were you kidding. You had been writing down your filthy fantasy, you were already soaked, Steve’s movements and apparent enthusiasm just adding to the heat. A whine escaped your lips when he withdrew a fraction, giving you a chance to breathe, hand slipping under your shorts to fondle your lower cheek.

“Well, I did see it, sweetheart,” Steve said lowly, a little too short of breath for the teasing to work in his favour. Still, your stomach twisted in anticipation of what was to follow. “And I want it.”

Your eyes snapped open, your lips parting in awe, butterflies erupting in your stomach. You met his eyes, dark pupils having almost swallowed the blue of his irises, gaze intent to prove his point. Fuck. You could come right now if he kept you sitting exactly as you were and watching you like that.

It was one thing to see him react to your fantasy laid bare for him to see – voluntarily or not – but him admitting it out loud, well that was just a whole new fucking level.

Now the idea of that actually being doable was planted in our brain and your core clenched at the wistful image you had painted with your words.

It took you another minute of staring at each other to realize what exactly he was saying without explicitly voicing it.

“Wait, right now?” you blurted out breathlessly, a single nod and a kiss to the corner of your mouth your only answer.

Fuck. Shit. Okay.

“A-alright. Let’s do this then,” you stuttered, as thrilled as nervous.

You didn’t expect that – but you weren’t one to let the opportunity pass. You framed Steve’s face with your palms, his beard rough against your skin, and pressed your lips to his in a hurried kiss, eager to get him where you needed him before he changed his mind. Last grind of your hips, swallowing his content hum, you climbed from his lap to search for something that would hold.

“Bed. Now.”

Your fingers were shaking a bit under his intent gaze as they slipped under his t-shirt, pulling it over his head. Steve was sitting on the bed now, legs parted enough for you to stand between them, watching our every move. You didn’t think you’d ever get used to the way he was looking at you – so tender, with longing and yet with such lust.

It lit your nerves on fire in the worst and best ways and that was alright with you, as long as you’d get to keep him.

He smiled at you softly, a little quirk to his eyebrow when he caught you staring and not springing into action just yet.

“What is it, babygirl?”

His hands trailing up your waist made it harder to answer.

You sighed, feeling your earlier confidence wavering. “You’re just so fucking pretty, it’s unreal.”

His lips curled up in a smirk, but the light in his eyes gave away just how much the compliment meant for him. He pulled you closer, a breathy kiss landing on your clothed stomach.

“That coming from you… could look at you all day, you must already know that,” he murmured to your shirt, sending a sparkle of courage up your chest.

You ruffled his hair and pushed him away with a chuckle, mirroring his previous smirk.

“Well, you won’t, not this time,” you sing-sang cheekily, stepping over his thigh to kneel on the bed behind him, hearing his breath catch, his hand brushing your thigh as you danced out of his reach.

Placing the scarf over his forehead first, you felt your insides twist in anticipation, fingertips tingling. God, you were really doing this.

“You ready, Professor Rogers?” you hummed to his ear, marvelling at the effect the title had on him, always, as his hands clenched into fists on his thighs.

“When you say it like that, babygirl? Yes, I am,” he grumbled, causing you to bit down on your lip.

Making sure you didn’t tie the knot too tight nor too loose, you moved the fabric so it would cover his eyes.

“Good?”

“Uh-huh,” was his wordless answer as you let your hands slid to his bare shoulders.

Steve was undoubtedly a specimen. He was every male-attracted person’s wet dream and you were the one getting your hands on him.  You thanked heaven and hell for it every day. The barely visible lines of his abs, toned chest… but Christ, it was his back that would be your downfall.

Allowing your hands to wander, your fingertips traced the hard lines of his deltoids, a featherlight touch making him shudder and your mouth to actually salivate. Dropping a kiss between his shoulder blades, you scooted closer so you were literally breathing down his neck, palms sprawled over his triceps, caressing his thick biceps, down his forearms and over his fists and all the way back up.

It was almost like a beginning of a massage, you supposed, but no one could blame you if you were enjoying the sensation on your palms a little too much. You didn’t get the opportunity to appreciate Steve’s physique like this often enough. So you indulged yourself a few more times, applying more pressure, dropping a kiss to the crook of his neck every once in a while. He winced at the accidental scrape of your nails up his forearm, causing you to halt in your movements.

“You still good?” you questioned quietly, genuinely worried for a second. You realized he had barely made a sound so far.

“You could say that, yeah,” he choked out you felt your lips curl up into a smile. Stealing a glance over his shoulder, you took notice of the unmistakable hard outline on his sweatpants and gleefully resumed your movements, nibbling on his shoulder before soothing the skin with a gentle lick. “Babygirl…”

“Yeah?”

“You know what. Don’t test me,” he warned, only making you smile wider.

“Or what?”

He turned his head to side despite not being able to see you, giving you a perfect view of how tense was his jaw. Oh, you could imagine the stern look he wanted to scold you with.

“Or you’re not gonna like what’s to come when I put my hands on you,” he threatened, sighing exasperatedly when you replied with a barely audible ‘promise?’.

“In all seriousness though… what if you… uhm, couldn’t?” you asked reluctantly, not keen on sharing what you wanted… but wanting it really badly. You were sensing a pattern within yourself, seriously.

“I don’t follow---  oh,” escaped him soundlessly as your fingers attempted to wrap around his wrists and squeezed to give him a hint. “I don’t know about that, I mean-“

You felt your hear sink in disappointment, but you tried not to let it show, wondering how to try to convince him one more time. Sure, if it was a no-no, then you wouldn’t force him, he never forced you into anything either and this was about your mutual pleasure, but… now, having him partially at your mercy, the idea nudged insistently on your mind and the image of him with his hands tied above his head while you could do anything you pleased… you might have been soaking the shorts and the sheets at that.

“We don’t have to, Steve,” you assured him kindly, hundred percent honest despite planning on playing dirty. Your hands moved to his abdomen, caressing their way up his chest, accidently brushing over his left nipple, your lips moving to his ear. “But I’d be so good to you…”

“Babygirl,” he whispered, out of breath as your hand wandered down his happy trail, slipping just under the hem of his sweats, the fingers of your other hand moving to the neglected nipple, this time shamelessly toying with it.

“I’d be such a good girl for you, Professor Rogers,” you promised, keeping the smile off your voice when you heard him gulp, his cock visibly twitching. “I’d be really, really nice. Don’t you want that, Professor?”

“Y-yeah, yeah, okay-“

“Good choice,” you said approvingly, dropping a kiss to his cheek, making him groan and probably regret his decision already. You stood up, quickly looking for something you could use. “Just so you know, I think this is where the same rule applies,” you noted matter-of-factly. “You don’t like something I do, you want me to stop at any point, you tell me. I really want this to be good for you, Steve. So. What’s the word?”

From the front, you could see the blush that spread over his chest, causing you to bite your lip and nearly stumble over your feet. Good lord, Steve blindfolded, all flushed and waiting for you on the bed so you could do your worst--- now that was a sight to behold.

“Uhm… Waterloo?”

You bit your cheek so you wouldn’t laugh at his choice. It was cute and ridiculous... but also kinda hot, because well, Steve’s brains were just another turn-on for you. Of course he would choose something like that. Professor Steven Grant Rogers, history buff, certified hot nerd, the sweetest man to ever walk the Earth.

You pressed your lips together to prevent yourself from smiling too wide. You didn’t even know why. It wasn’t like he could see you.

“Okay. Waterloo it is,” you said, swiftly moving to the closet when another idea popped in your head.

Slipping into a new outfit before heading back, you were rather satisfied with yourself as you grabbed the two ties you found prior. Not that it would actually hold him – it was about the idea.

“You’re taking a bit long, babygirl…”

“And? You mind?” you teased him, stopping to stand in front of him. “Have some… pressing issues?”

“Keep it up, babygirl, see what happens once this is over,” he bit back, only making you chuckle at the perfect pass.

“I think there’s something else that’s up--- sorry, sorry,“ you mumbled when his hand landed blindly on your thigh.

His brows furrowed when he felt the difference.

“You changed.”

“Uh-huh.”

His hand trailed up curiously, right under your miniskirt and you let him… just until air got stuck in his throat upon finding you with nothing but the generous amount of slick covering your core.

“Fuck-“

“Nope,” you replied cheekily, even if the flicker of his finger caused you to shudder, his touch like liquid fire at this point.

Fuck, you wanted him. You wanted him right now and you wanted him to take you in every way he wanted… but the idea of him at your mercy was appealing enough for you to control yourself.

You grasped his wrist and shoved it away; he allowed it, but not without whining pitifully.

“Lie down, Steve, please. I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

“You better,” he grunted, unwillingly moving up the bed, obediently spreading out on the sheets and letting you guide his arms up as you climbed over him and tied his wrists together.

“Not too tight?”

He shook his head, a smirk crossing over his lips. You rolled your eyes at the double meaning, but you guessed it served you right.

Oh, but would you wipe that smirk off…

Securing the knot, you shifted to be face to face with him, lips hovering just above his mouth, breathing the same air and hoping to begin the sweet torture.

You had to admire his patience; despite definitely noticing your positions, Steve didn’t move an inch. It was up to you then – and the premise sent another thrill through your veins. Oh, you’d break him in the most delicious ways.

As soon as you erased the distance, his lips sunk into yours hungrily, wet and soft in the contrast to his beard, the sensation you adored, having you squirming above him until you remembered again that you were the one in control.

You kissed him with vigour, licking into his mouth, one hand still where his were joined, the other pressing against his chest. Your tongue met his, revelling at his taste and at another of his tries to dominate the kiss, to set things as they usually were. But as much as you loved it when he took charge… not today.

Parting abruptly, his lips following on instinct, you couldn’t but grin to yourself. Kissed his fingertips, you lingered at the one still glistening with your juices. You took it to your mouth, swirling your tongue around it and sucking lightly, feeling Steve’s heart speed up under your palm like crazy.

When you lightly grazed the skin with your teeth, his groan and the way his hips thrusted upward was the best reward you could get.

Kissing a trail down his arm – because goddammit you loved his arms – you hummed to yourself contentedly whenever you could feel the slightest shift of his body under yours and greedy for more contact, you allowed yourself to put most of your weight fully on him.

The choked sound it elicited from him startled you at first – until you realized that with your skirt hiked up, you weren’t the only one enjoying the skin-on-skin contact, your slick coating Steve’s lower stomach just above his sweats. Hopefully it was giving him ideas – it was certainly was to you.

Rustle of fabric, ragged breaths, occasional smacking noise when you moved up or left a small hickey on his shoulder and above his collarbone. Your fingers toyed gently with his nipples as you kissed his sternum before replacing your hands with your mouth once more, sucking, drawing a quiet whimper from him.

Fuck couldn’t get enough of the noises he was making. The pretty breathless moans of your name, the curses slipping from his lips… it was like music, but on a desperately low volume.

“What is it you always tell me?” you teased, lamely covering for the fact that your own arousal was nearly uncontainable. Shit, you loved how sensitive his nipples were… how much more sensitive he must have been now, no visual, laser focused on every touch instead? You wanted more… so much more. “Don’t hold these pretty sounds from me?”

Steve gritted his teeth at the remark, but as soon as you positioned your heat directly over his hard length and rolled your hips, he sang for you beautifully.

“Shit, sweetheart-“

The rush of confidence, the feeling of power was almost overwhelming – the image of him, lips parted in mute pleasure, certainly was. You were a little too close to climbing your own peak a little too quickly to your liking.

Sitting up straight, you undulated your hips few times, hands tracing patterns over Steve’s rapidly rising chest and abs. Much to his obvious dislike, you all too soon slid lower, your mouth making its way down his abdomen and then you finally, finally rid him of his sweatpants and boxers in one go.

His cock sprang free, hard and red at the tip, leaking just enough to cause your mouth to water and your thighs to rub together to give yourself some of the friction you craved so much.

Hands planted on his hips, you kissed along his hip bones and the apex of his thighs, taking your sweet time exploring everything you could – except for where you suspected he wanted you the most. You had to grin for yourself when you cupped his balls, causing him to hiss in relief, the muscles of his abdomen and legs clenching beautifully.

“Talk to me, Steve,” you hummed as you replaced your hand with your tongue, licking a stripe towards his base.

“Christ- don’t stop--“

“Eloquent as always, Professor,” you retreated, causing him to let out a growly sound you never heard before and had your core tingle, cunt feeling awfully empty.

Christ was right, alright. Seeing his chest heaving, fingers twitching as if he wanted nothing but to tug at your hair to keep you there and stuff your mouth full of his cock---  if you didn’t get some soon, you might actually combust.

So you put your mouth back to work on his sack again, fingers barely curling around the base of his cock, giving a first experimental stroke before you squeezed a bit tighter – and then swiftly moved away, his hips following on instinct in, craving more.

“For fuck’s --- how did I ever think you were sweet and nice?” he complained huskily, impatience lacing his voice.

You chuckled, but heard him out, leaving his balls in order to give more attention to his impressive and possibly painfully hard length.

“Beats me,” you retorted, hands busy with gentle strokes to his shaft. “I mean, we literally got together thanks to you finding out I wrote about sucking and riding your dick right in your office, Professor Rogers.”

“You little-“

His protests died in his throat, features twisting in wordless pleasure when you finally wrapped your lips around the head of his cock, delivering a few kitten licks to the tip. His taste exploded on your tongue, eliciting a content hum which he certainly felt too, because a jerk of his hips pushed him deeper to your mouth.

Slowly swallowing as much as you could without having him hit the back of your throat, you curled your hand tighter around the base and started bobbing your head.  

A string of breathless profanities left his mouth whenever you squeezed, only getting filthier when you hollowed your cheeks. It was all encouragement you needed to take him deeper, giving him a taste of heaven as his tip brushed the back of your throat.

“Babygirl, fuck, fuck, yeah--- just like that…”

Your own arousal became unbearable, a surge of hot need squeezing your insides at Steve’s praise. Slipping a hand under your skirt, you sighed in relief when your fingers caressed your lower lips, hips bucking forward in desperate need of more.

Your predicament was impossible to solve – you wanted him inside you already, so badly, but fuck the picture Steve made, even if blurry as tears prickled your eyes whenever he hit the back of your throat, was just too divine.

Lips crimson with how he kept biting at them to keep at least a little quiet, hair sticking to his forehead, muscles drawn tight like strings as he kept clenching them both unwittingly and consciously in hope to get you where he wanted you and the fresh taste of him whenever you did something he particularly liked--- you simply had to feast your eyes on him. And he couldn’t do the same… or take charge for that matter.

So fucking pretty like this.

And you were the only one seeing him like that, tied up, helpless against the assault on his senses sans vision. He gave himself up to you like that, willingly. The thought warmed you up inside out, enough to drive you nearly as crazy as if you were in his place.

Wasting no time with preparation you didn’t need, you pushed two fingers into your core at once, whimpering around Steve’s cock when you did. Your whole body relaxed, the pent-up desire easing a little and yet burning hotter. You pumped your fingers slowly, the sensation so blissful you had to remind yourself to keep working on Steve too.

Still, your actions didn’t go unnoticed.

“Are you—are you touching yourself, babygirl?” he whispered, tongue peeking out to wet his lips.

It took you a second to swallow the baseless embarrassment and literally swallow, causing Steve to let out a moan so wrecked and pretty you felt your pussy clamp around your fingers.

Hoping your words would come out less shy than you felt when saying them, you released Steve’s length with a wet pop to tease him some more.

“Yeah, I am…. Why? You want a taste?” you asked sweetly, clearing your throat that suddenly felt so empty.

The guttural moan that erupted in Steve’s chest was music to your ears, his cock twitching and glistening with fresh beads of precum a sight to behold.

“Yeah, babygirl… give it to me,” he choked out and the genuine desire in his voice was like a punch to your solar plexus. Your walls clenched around your fingers, the familiar coil in your abdomen tightening.

Swallowing a pitiful sigh at the loss, you stretched over the warm length of Steve’s body, gulping when his own parted in invitation.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Reluctantly, you let the fingers sticky with your juices brush over Steve’s lips, gasping when his tongue instantly slid out to lick at the essence eagerly, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“Fuck, always so sweet, babygirl…” he muttered, your breath stuck in your throat when his mouth blindly chased after your fingers before you could withdraw your hand.

“Oh my god-“ you choked out, mesmerized, your pussy clamping around nothing.

He sucked greedily, the image alone causing your hips to rut against his, your clit catching against his rock-hard shaft. Your eyes fluttered close in bliss, stars exploding behind your eyelids.

Unwittingly, you worked your hips faster, riding Steve’s thick cock even without having him inside. The friction, the soaked fabric of your skirt brushing against your clit, the sensation of Steve’s tongue lapping at your fingers as if he had his mouth on your pussy instead--- you felt the coil in your belly snap, the world turning white before you knew how.

You came with a broken cry, blissed out and shocked at the sudden release, but riding your pleasure out on instinct.

Grazing your fingers with his teeth as he let go, Steve spoke words so filthy our head spun.

“That’s it, babygirl. Fuck. Look how little my girl needed to come all over my cock. Using me so shamelessly.  You must have really wanted it, didn’t you…” he said, voice hoarse with a tint of smugness as you came back from your high, the dirty talk only already riling you up again.

You had no idea what just happened, but you had a feeling Steve immensely enjoyed it as he somehow got the upper hand on you despite being the one tied up.

For someone who was supposed to have all blood out of his brain and have it in his dick instead, he was way too smug… but you’d reverse it again. He had no idea what was about to hit him.

Stealing a kiss to taste ourself on his tongue, your fingers went to remove the blindfold.

Your professor was, in certain aspects, still just a simple guy – he liked a good visual. It was silly of you to rid him of it in the first place, no matter how much fun you had with it.

Steve blinked in surprise, squinting against the sudden light, while you slipped out of your bralette, leaving you in nothing but your very schoolgirl-like mini skirt. You smiled at him sweetly, kissing his mouth once more, thumb softly brushing his lips as you towered over him, nearly giving him a view of what was under the fabric.

“I always want you,” you whispered with a smile, your hand cupping your breast, gently tweaking your nipple, his gaze following the movement as his fingers twitched. You bit the inside of your cheek, hand slowly trailing down. “Want you to touch me, everywhere. Always so wet and ready for you…”

Dark eyes watched you as you slipped your fingers under the waist of the skirt, a tiny mewl escaping you when the pad of your fingers bumped into your clit.

You would have felt stupid trying to give him a show after you came after almost nothing, but the warning growl of your name once again assured you that unsexy was the last thing that came to Steve’s mind when looking at you. It warmed both your belly and your heart. You almost felt regretful for a moment that you were still keeping him hanging, neglecting his no doubt aching cock, but he thought he had the upper hand here.

He was wrong.

“Always thinking of you… even when I’m alone, always thinking about your fingers, stretching me so good, about you fucking me, so hard till I’m screaming your name,” you continued in hushed voice, revelling at how tight his jaw set, eyes narrowed, breathing once again picking up.

“Babygirl—”

“Oops, sorry,” you chipped, pecking his lips as you withdrew your hand, quickly drawing a trail of kisses down his chest and abdomen, unable to resist a lick here and there where the line of his muscles looked particularly tasty. “Just thought you’d like to see my mouth on you. You like to watch, Professor Rogers, no?”

He never got a chance to answer as you guided him to your mouth again, holding his gaze as he indeed watched, eyebrows furrowing, each breath hitching, soon chanting your name. You caressed his balls as well, tongue tracing the vein on the underside of his length, your other hand firmly around his base.

You were the first to avert his gaze as your eyes fluttered close so you could fully focus on your task, relaxing your throat.

“Babygirl--- fuck me-- I’m gonna-“

You eased up a bit, earning a frustrated growl, the corners of your lips rising a bit as you imagined the ugly glare he must have shot you.

Thinking about it, closing your eyes was a mistake.

You never saw it coming as a hand suddenly sunk into your hair, yanking you up face to face with him, alarmed eyes staring into black ones as his pupils nearly swallowed all the blue or his irises.

He had slipped out of the poorly tied bonds, clearly fed up with your shenanigans.

Ah-oh, sounded in the back of your mind.

Another part of you didn’t fail to notice that despite the swift movement and calling an end to your games, Steve’s fingers were careful not to pull too harshly, making sure he was cradling your head safely. Same when he rolled you over, trapping you under the hard lines of muscle you had been tasting a moment ago, protective cage of his arms around your head.

If you weren’t so startled, you would have swooned.

You never got the chance, because any possible sound was muffled by his mouth crashing into yours, hand slipping from your nape to your throat to keep you in place with a wordless warning, hips pressed to yours just in case you would want to escape.

You would never. Even if you had a hunch Steve was about to ruin you in a way that would have you feel it for days.

Having enough of your mouth for the moment, giving you a chance to gasp for air, he stared at you smugly, one corner of his perfectly red lips raised in a smirk.

“Wicked little thing, aren’t you?” he grunted, thumb caressing the hollow of your throat softly, causing you to gulp.

You summoned your best innocent look, doe-like eyes that usually worked. “S-sorry?”

A flicker of a smile as he forced his knee between your thighs, instantly pressing against your still sensitive core.

“I don’t think you are, babygirl,” he huffed, nosing the crook of your neck, biting down sharper than you expected, a yelp erupting from your throat. He soothed in with the pad of his thumb, smiling wide, something soft in his eyes when he looked at you again. You were so fucking baffled at what that meant. ”That perfect filthy mind of yours… and you still get a bit shy, huh?”

“W-what?”

“You know what I think, babygirl?” he whispered intimately, teeth grazing the shell of your ear. “I think that you left the document opened on purpose.”

Your rapidly beating heart stopped in your chest, wind knocked out of you completely.

Fuck.

You were so busted.

Steve had read you like a book wide open--- because of course he did.

Yes, there had been a great part of you who wished for him to see it, hoping in this exact outcome; there had been an equally great part dreading what he would think about you. Writing the story down, you were thinking a bit more with your pussy than your brain though, so you decided to leave it for Steve to read. If he went for it, maybe you’d get something from it. If he didn’t, you’d move on. No harm no fool, right?

Right. No.

Now he did know and saw right through your little trick. And damn, did he look proud of himself for figuring it out. You were in so much trouble.

Somehow, you were as horrified as excited.

Steve chuckled as you swallowed against your suddenly dry throat, eyes no doubt wide as saucers.

“Oh, you did. Too shy to ask for it, leaving that to me instead. My sneaky, needy girl,” he muttered, fondness and humour with a dark lilt in his voice.

“I—I didn’t know how-“ you stuttered, feeling your face burning in embarrassment at his tone, just a smidge patronizing.

You averted his gaze, a vain attempt really, knowing he wouldn’t let you. Slipping two fingers under your chin, he guided you to face him again.

“Didn’t know how… hmm… so you thought you’d play me? That’s really naughty, sweetheart.”

“I’m sorry… Professor Rogers,” you added quickly in hopes to mollify him, indeed earning a sweet kiss.

“Oh, it’s okay, babygirl. You know why?” he tested you and you could only shake your head lightly, guessing at best what kind of revenge awaited you. “Because you’re my good girl and you’ll let me settle the score. I’ll play with you now. It’s only fair, no?”

Oh fuck, here it came.

For a brief second, his lust-filled eyes appeared startingly clear and sober, boring into yours with a serious question.

It’s only fair, no? he had said.

It’s alright with you if the roles reverse, right? was what he was truly asking, checking, always checking if you were okay, just like you had been checking with him.

Because sex was fun, but only if all parties were on board.

Because Steve was sweet, considerate, soft and loving and he was everything you ever looked for in a man and more. You trusted him. You always did and you trusted him now – he would make you feel so so good. It was never really a question.

“Y—yes, it is.”

“Good girl,” he praised you, causing your core to weep. And he knew it, oh did he know and shamelessly used it against you... a little payback to all the professor you’d been throwing around. “Close your eyes.”

And you did. The blindfold came first, then hands, his fingers skimming over your forearms teasingly, feather-light touch on your sensitive skin, before he finally brought them up and tied them together.

“You ready, sweetheart?”

No, you were absolutely not ready, but your body was buzzing with desire again at that point, so you breathed a soft yes. And maybe, just maybe… no matter how you had enjoyed driving him crazy, cheeky and full of feeling of power, this felt like home. Because you trusted him – and so you gave yourself to him wholly.

He hummed in contentment as you confirmed, causing you shiver as he nosed the skin under your ear. “Good. Because I’m going to wreck you for that little stunt of yours.”

His words tickled the sensitive skin and shit, okay, your nerve endings were tingling, the sensation amplified tenfold with your eyes covered. Steve really was going to wreck you.

Mouth moving to your breast, he took the nipple in his mouth, shifting so the head of his cock nudged at your weeping opening, pushing just a bit with a promise of a delicious stretch, almost, almost there.

“Please,” was all you managed to breathe out, growing impatient, hissing when gave a playful bite to the underside of your breast, sending a surge of arousal through your veins. You back arched, a mewl escaping your when Steve moved his hips away completely, denying you.

“And you’re gonna take it, aren’t you?” he muttered to your skin, lips trailing lower and lower, warm and soft, beard leaving behind a delicious burn.

“Y- yes.”

“Good girl. And what else are you going to do? Tell me,” he encouraged you, large palms pushing your thighs apart so he could fit the insanely broad shoulders between them.

Mind foggy with need, senses overwhelmed, you still had enough wits to understand what he wanted to hear.

“Thank you,” you breathed out.

“Damn straight.” His words were a damp hot blow of air against your mound, causing your hips to jolt as if your body was begging to be taken apart by him already – blissfully aware of how he would put it back together again.

And with an inevitable scratch to your lower lips and a kitten lick to your swollen bud for starters, Steve did.

Attached masterlist

S.R. masterlist

I sincerely apologize for twisting the prompt and not even being able to write a soft enough fic the one time I’m supposed to.

But I hope you enjoyed anyway.  I mean, if you made it to the end…

Thank you for reading :-*

Your Anika I’m-Not-a-Smut-Writer Ann

P.S. Fic loosely relates to one of the reblogs of this series: “You know one good thing about being an erotic writer is - you don’t have to talk about your embarrassing kinks. You want to tie your boyfriend up? You just email him a story about it 'subtly’ hinting at it.” Close enough?

[rebrandedbard]

If you are still writing 14?

Okay so this one accidentally went from a drabble to an actual fic whoops. The cure is totally inspired by the Rapunzel fairy tale, spoiler alert, where the prince falls in the thorn bushes around the tower and Rapunzel’s tears fall into his eyes, curing him.

14. “Hey, I’m with you, okay? Always.”

wc: 4444 which is an awesome number I’m so happy lol

Robbed Blind

Someone botches a spell to steal Jaskier’s artistic vision and he’s cursed with blindness. Thankfully, he falls into the company of Ciri and Lambert. They journey safely to Kaer Morhen, but what could be the cure to his affliction?

-

She had found him, tripping over the strings of destiny, in Drakenborg. He’d been on his way to Oxenfurt when the curse took hold, and he had gone no further. Jaskier was haggard, gaunt, and looked quite worn. His hair lay flat from constant fussing. It was a habit Ciri remembered well from his visits, always combing a nervous hand through his hair before a performance. She had never seen it look so lifeless. He needed a mirror, she thought. She would soon realize that a mirror would serve him no purpose.

He was blind. He startled when she ran to him, throwing her arms around his waist. She’d been so relieved to see a friendly face that she’d run right into his arms, nearly knocking him from the stool in the corner of the tavern. Why should he not catch her as he’d always done? He’d been looking directly at her; she thought he’d merely not recognized her beneath the mud and hood.

“Let me go! Who are you? Stop—stop this now or I’ll give you such a wallop, I’ll—!”

“Jaskier!” Ciri cried, shocked. She flinched away from him as he elbowed her roughly against her temple. She rubbed the spot, standing out of reach.

Jaskier straightened up at once. “Is that—? Little cub, is that you?” he asked. He turned his head as if searching for her and reached out a hand, feeling the air. It was nowhere near.

Ciri took his hand. During their long weeks of travel, she refused to let it go again. She became his eyes, and together they started for Oxenfurt and the safety of its halls.

He’d woken up blind one day, he explained. No warning or explanation. The mage had told him what magic was at play. Someone had tried to steal his artistic vision and the enchantment had gone wrong, stealing from him his very sight.

“Is there not a cure?” Ciri asked.

Jaskier shook his head. “The mage said it was a botched spell. There’s no telling what will fix it, only that it must have something to do with artistic vision. The mage suggested it might be cured by the old methods: kisses and the like; gazing upon true beauty.”

He squinted and took her face between his hands. “I’m looking and looking at you as hard as I can, and I remember you were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen when you were first born. So what do mages know? Have you become a pox-faced adolescent or scraggly Medusa? Ah,” he chuckled, “but you’d still be a fairytale princess in my eyes if you had the face of a basilisk.”

She laughed and squirmed out of his hands. “You were always very good at Blind Man’s Bluff. Do you remember when we used to play it? Back then, you were always stumbling; you aren’t stumbling as much anymore.”

“I’ve grown used to it, I suppose. But you are a princess—do you suppose a kiss from you might cure me? How are you with frogs? Ever wake a sleeping prince?”

“No, but we may try it. There’s magic in me of a sort, I know. Here, kneel a moment.”

Jaskier knelt on the dry road and closed his eyes, tapping the lid. “Right here. Give it a go,” he said encouragingly. “If it doesn’t work, we’ll practice on a frog and work our way up.”

Ciri kissed both eyes to be sure. “Alright. Open them. Do you see anything?”

She tried not to get her hopes up, watching Jaskier squeeze his eyes tight. He opened them, blinked several times, and gave her a sad smile.

“Not to worry, we’ll find a pond in no time,” he joked, trying to keep the mood light.

-

“Well! I go to find a cat and find a lioness instead. And a songbird. Must be my lucky day.”

Ciri put herself between the stranger and Jaskier, waving a large branch in warning. “Keep away,” she growled. “If you come any closer, I’ll scream.”

The scruffy man put his hands up and grinned. “I’ve heard what sort of screaming runs in your family. Trust me, I would rather not be around for one of them. Heard it knocked pretty boy flat on his back at your mother’s little Surprise party.”

Jaskier put a hand on Ciri’s shoulder. “Wait a moment,” he said. “I know that moniker. Geralt complained of it before.” He was quiet a moment, stirring up a memory. Then, he lit up, asking excitedly, “Did you say you were looking for a cat? A cat witcher, by chance?”

“Why? Find one up a tree?” the stranger pressed.

Jaskier patted Ciri’s shoulder and strode forward, extending a hand. “You must be Lambert! I’ve heard—” his hand buckled against Lambert’s chest, his stride clearing the distance too quickly “—oh, my apologies. I’ve heard about you before. I was hoping to see you under better circumstances if I ever got the chance. Or to see you at all, really. Damnable timing.”

Lambert looked at him, then took his hand. Ciri watched as the understanding settled in, for Jaskier was staring straight at the man’s forehead, a near lucky guess of his eye line. Lambert wore an expression of pity freely, knowing Jaskier could not see it, though his tone was light and cocky as before. “I always wondered what you saw in that sourpuss, following him as long as you did; now I know you didn’t see anything after all,” he joked.

Jaskier snorted. “It’s new.”

“Ah, so you’ve been blinded by love, have you?”

Jaskier flapped his hand until he felt the brush of Ciri’s sleeve at his side, then he tugged her forward and presented her. He cleared his throat, a tad flushed. “May I introduce Her Royal Highness, Princess Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, the Lion Cub of Cintra. Geralt’s child Surprise.”

Ciri tossed her branch aside. “You know Geralt,” she said.

“They’re brothers.”

Lambert sneered. “He got all the looks, Eskel got the talent, but I got the brains.”

“What little there were to be had,” Jaskier added.

“Oh, ho! You’ll fit right in at the keep, talking like that.”

There was a pregnant pause between the three of them. Jaskier nudged Ciri gently forward. “She’ll be safe there. And her wit is more cutting than mine.”

Ciri turned at once to protest. “But what about Ox—”

“And so would you,” Lambert cut in. “A dull knife and a dull wit can be sharpened, and I’d rather keep two knives in my belt than one, whatever their make. Don’t start that maudlin shit with me; you’re coming along.”

Jaskier opened his mouth to protest and Lambert raised a hand. Then, realizing how ineffective that was against one who could not see it, he recovered and smacked the side of Jaskier’s head to shut him up before he started.

“Come on; it’s a long and dull road we have ahead of us, and you’re my entertainment. I want to hear every embarrassing story you can supply. I’ve long run out of blackmail and I’m in need of fresh material. Besides, what better bait for a cat than a twittering bird? If you sing loud enough, we might pick him up along the way.”

-

They were all together in the great hall when at last he came. The figure stood in the doorway, a black dot against the stark white of winter outside. A pair of bags dropped with a thundering bang upon the floor, the sound echoing throughout the room, and the figure bundled up by the fire started awake in fright.

Jaskier patted the blanket beside him, made frantic by his sudden awakening. “Ciri? Ciri!” he called, for she had been asleep next to him what seemed only moments ago.

She paused only a moment to stare at the imposing figure in the light. Something in her shouted, compelling her to go to him. But Jaskier called for her in that voice wrought with panic once more. She flew from the circle of wolves to his side, abandoning her hand of cards, disregarding the man of destiny at the door.

“I’m here,” she said, taking his hands. “Hey, I’m with you, okay? Always. I’m not going anywhere.” She and the others looked at each other, looked at Geralt, and said not a word.

Jaskier settled and took a deep breath. “I heard something crash. I dreamed—but never mind that.” He sighed, pressing his head to their joined hands. “I’m sorry. I know it’s safe here. I’m just not used to you wandering off just yet.”

“I know.” She stroked his hair gently. It was soft again, though not as silky as before. Lambert and Eskel had drawn him a bath for the first time in a long while, but he had not his customary soaps and oils. He was … less bright, his appearance dulled with his mood.

Vesemir had examined him. Countless hours, the wolves had huddled together in the old library, trying to find a cure for Jaskier’s condition to no avail. As time went by, the reality of his situation weighed on Jaskier. He could no longer read his notebook, nor write his music to be remembered. Ciri read his notes aloud and studied the art so she might transcribe them for him, but it was obvious how he felt.

“I don’t want to be a burden,” he’d said.

And now he gave her that same false smile, the one that failed to meet his eyes. She missed the lines in the corners and wished they might come back. Perhaps they’d flown off with the crows, frightened of the winter snow.

“Go back to your game,” he whispered. “I’ll head up to bed.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” she offered.

He shook his head. “I know the way now. If someone will take me to the stairwell?” he prompted, raising a hand.

Ciri looked at Geralt. There was so little she knew of him—stories and songs … words spared in rumors and stolen from conversations where she lingered unnoticed to listen. What she knew of the wolf and bard she had pieced together with care. For all the tales Jaskier would tell, he would not disparage Geralt before her, and he would not tell the story of the dragon hunt. But dwarves talk. Stories travel and lesser bards would imitate the songs of greater. Witchers collect news of other witchers, and two adults would speak as adults when ale made easy speech. Jaskier had confided in Lambert those tearing words once flung at him upon the mountain. And thus she had put the final piece into place of the great mystery between them.

‘If life could give me one blessing…’

“Who will take him?” she asked. She kept Geralt’s eyes as she rose to her feet. “Who will take him into his hands?”

It was only the barest movement, but she swore she saw the wolf of legend flinch.

Jaskier sat up with a huff. “You make it sound so dramatic. Are we playing at a quest now? Very well, who is my knight errant? The princess has thus decreed a quest is in order: a quest up the perilous tower steps, my-my! Such a task!”

“I should think a white knight is the one suited best for the task,” Vesemir grunted. He shuffled his hand, eyes narrowed at Geralt.

The white knight in question let his cloak fall. He shook the snow from his arms and dusted them slowly, looking at each watching face in turn. His hesitation was clear. When none moved to claim Jaskier, he stepped forward cautiously. Without a word, he took Jaskier’s hand and lifted him to his feet.

Jaskier clapped an arm around his shoulder, hands patting the edge of his long hair. “Ah, thank you, Vesemir,” he said. His hand slipped from Geralt’s armour and he made a face, flicking his wet hand in the air. He prodded the armour curiously. “You’re soaked; I thought you said you’d sent Eskel for the firewood.” He prodded again and bumped against Geralt’s shoulder pad. He pinched it between his fingers, figuring out its shape. He hummed curiously. “What are you wearing? Did you go hunting?”

Geralt stared. Jaskier was not looking at him. Geralt looked at the circle of men by the fireside and there sat Vesemir in silence, watching. He was struck dumb. What … game was this?

“A knight needs a knight’s armour,” Lambert called.

Jaskier laughed. “Oh, of course. Such a soft touch; did you get all dressed up for Ciri? Have I woken in the middle of a game?”

Eskel tossed a card in the middle of the circle. “Yes,” he answered, “but we’ve just started on another, different game.”

“Very cold and calculated,” Ciri agreed.

“Cold and calculated. So a snowball fight has become a snowball war, no doubt born of the most complicated strategies. Shame on the lot of you. You ought to let your elders warm themselves before sending them on tasks. You’re young; you’ve got legs,” Jaskier scolded.

“It was his idea,” Eskel replied.

Vesemir nodded, keeping silent as the game unravelled.

Jaskier looped his arm through Geralt’s and stood straight and tall in an affected manner. “Come, my good knight,” he said, “and let us bid good night to these slacking youths.”

He started to walk in the general direction of the stair, Geralt turning them with truer aim. Geralt looked over his shoulder at the others, frowning. This was not the sort of confrontation he expected when next he saw Jaskier. If he ever saw him. And here was his child Surprise in their midst without a word of greeting or explanation, and the bard, the two of them together and settled within the walls of the keep.

It was too perplexing for him to puzzle out. And Jaskier was acting strangely. Where were his speeches? Geralt had expected him to argue on sight, or else to pretend all was right and greet him, “Geralt! How good to see you,” or, “Fancy meeting you here,” and play off the mountain like it never happened. Or at the very least to ignore him. But to call him Vesemir and take to his arm? What joke was he playing at?

The answer came as Jaskier dodged the first step and nearly fumbled upon the stair. He clung to Geralt’s arm with a cry and his other hand shot out to grope the wall. He flailed for it, feeling his way from the step outward, then sliding his hand up the side of it. He turned his head, looked at Geralt and laughed. “I’m still not used to these uneven steps,” he said. “Give me time and I’ll be able to find my way around unassisted. By next week, I’ll be able to navigate every pool in the hot springs, then you four will never see me fully dressed again!”

Geralt raised a hand to Jaskier’s face. He rested a thumb just beneath his eye. They were as blue as ever, nothing seemed amiss, and yet …

Jaskier’s smile weakened. He closed his eyes and pushed the hand away. “I know the three of you are working hard to find a cure. I know the jokes fall flat. But I must make them. If I don’t … Vesemir, if I can’t make light of it, the darkness I see will be all I have left.”

He turned toward the stair again, hand firm on Geralt’s arm, the other on the wall. “Right then. Up we go. Just one at a time,” he said. He stepped tentatively forwards, prodding his foot before him until he nudged the base of the first step. “Got it. First is always hardest, isn’t it?”

They carried on. Two steps, three, one after the other slowly. They were uneven by design: a final defense against those who would try to invade their stronghold. The spiral stair favored those who walked it every day, gave advantage to the men who would be at the top, swinging their swords to fight back those who would dare trespass unwitting. It was difficult enough for any stranger with sight. With Jaskier, it was a quest in itself.

Midway up, Geralt thought to carry him. They were going so slowly; it would have been easiest that way. He nearly offered, but stopped. If he spoke, Jaskier would know him. He began to reach an arm out to simply lift him, but Jaskier fumbled once more, his knee hitting the step with a mumbled curse. And Geralt heard him muttering through his teeth as he crouched upon the stair.

“I will learn,” he hissed. “This will not stop me. I refuse to be a burden to anyone. Never again.” He touched his forehead to the step and Geralt put a hand to his back. He was trembling.

When Jaskier rose again, he did not take Geralt’s arm. He reached out and took hold of the wall on either side, arms stretched wide to hold himself up. He proceeded to climb the stair alone. When Geralt reached out to help, Jaskier waved him away.

“No,” he whispered. “We’re nearly at the top. Just let me do this much. Please.”

And Geralt let his hand fall away.

Jaskier reached the landing with a powerful stomp, expecting a final step. He breathed a sigh of relief and sagged against the right wall. Geralt followed behind and patted his shoulder. Small congratulations. From there, Jaskier walked down the corridor, tapping when he came upon a wooden door. He passed three, tapped each with his knuckles, counting. When he reached the forth door, he opened it. In this space, he walked with ease away from the wall. He flopped confidently upon the bed and rested a moment as one does after a long journey.

He shucked off his doublet and loosened the laces of his boots. He set these aside at the very foot of the bed where they might easily be found again. He undid the back lace of his trousers, paused, and inclined his head toward the door.

“Are you still there, Vesemir?” he asked.

Geralt did not know how to respond. He stood fixed in the doorway, but dropped his eyes to his feet modestly. After a moment’s wait, Jaskier finished undressing and climbed beneath the heavy furs. A memory stirred—that was not the final task of the evening. What was the last of their routine each night? What was left undone that made this finality seem so abrupt? Geralt realized it in the darkness of the room. He had no candle to blow out.

The truth struck Geralt sharp as a blade to his gut. He stole through the door, walking quietly toward the bed. He sat on the edge, the furs rumpled beneath him, and listened to Jaskier’s breathing. He was not yet asleep—would never be, so soon—but he did not stir.

Geralt took his hand gently.

Jaskier squeezed it back.

“I only wish that had not been the last I’d seen of him,” Jaskier whispered. “I try to remember his smile now. For all my poetry, I can’t remember it clearly. His smiles were so rare, but I don’t suppose you need me to tell you. Or perhaps you do. I don’t know if he smiled here; I know nothing his life in this place. Were you so fortunate that they were commonplace?”

Silent footsteps creeped up the stair. Ciri had waited long enough to follow. Geralt heard no sign of her under the ringing words of Jaskier’s speech. Though he spoke no louder than the breath of the wind, every last syllable echoed like a clap of thunder in his ears.

Jaskier slipped his hand free and turned on his pillow, hugging it close. “I wish I might at least see Ciri now, know how she’s grown. They change so quickly at that age. Does she look like her mother? Does she look like him? Destiny makes strange things of those it touches. She was beginning to look like him, I once thought.”

She saw him well enough, looking through the open door. She crouched behind the wall, listening as she always did in secret, for the things he would not burden her with.

“I always did wonder what you looked like. Geralt spoke once to me of his brothers, his mentor. You’re still stories to me in ways. I know you have long hair, grey with age. I know Lambert is shorn, Eskel is shaggy. I know your voices, your height, and a hundred other things. But do you share his eyes? What color is the armour you wear? How does the sun set over the mountainside? The carpets before the hearth—what pattern is woven there? What thousands of stories do you keep in that library? What do the monsters look like illustrated in the great bestiary?”

He buried his face in his pillow. His voice was muffled, but both Geralt and Ciri could hear the husk in it. “I won’t feel sorry for myself. It doesn’t mean anything—just idle curiosity. It doesn’t matter how the carpet is woven or if you wear brown shirts or red. I’ve seen a lifetime of sunrises and sunsets and stars. I don’t want them!” he barked. He writhed on the bed, his face falling from the pillow, stained with tears. “I don’t! I never needed them, not one! I don’t care—I don’t! None of them are important!”

Geralt rushed forward and took Jaskier in his arms. Jaskier struggled, beating at his chest, and refused to be coddled. “No!” he wailed. “Don’t comfort me, I don’t need it! I don’t want it! I will not be pitied!” But for his hard words, he clung to Geralt’s armour, sobbing against his shoulder. “It’s unnecessary. It’s just a bunch of poetry. Useless poetry and songs.”

Jaskier pulled away, Geralt’s hands trailing from his back to his shoulders as he sat up. Geralt held him there before he could retreat more. Before he could think twice of it, Geralt leaned in, his hands cupping Jaskier’s face on either side.

“Vese—”

Something warm and wet fell onto Jaskier’s lashes. He heard a shaky breath, felt the warmth of it upon his face. Another hot tear fell into his other eye and he blinked in surprise, for it was not his own. He sat perfectly still in shock, blinking the falling tears away.

“They were never useless,” Geralt said. “They were always important—all of them.”

Jaskier twitched, raising his head by instinct up to look at the man who held him now. “You were—!”

“I’m sorry. For not speaking before. For … not speaking then. After. And for saying what I did that day.” He wiped the tears beneath Jaskier’s eyes away, an expression of pain twisting his hollowed features. “If I’d not sent you away—I don’t know what’s become of you, but I might have—I could have tried to prevent it. You would still have your sight.”

Jaskier covered Geralt’s hands. “No, Geralt. This is none of your doing. You can���t—”

A loud bump from the hall startled him. Jaskier turned at once to look.

“Ciri,” he breathed.

Ciri had a finger to her mouth and was glaring up at a tall man. They both cowed back, being caught. Jaskier looked between them as Geralt’s hands slipped away. He stood, walking toward them. He looked at Ciri, gaping, their eyes perfectly aligned. Jaskier fell to his knees before her and took her hands without fumbling.

“Ciri,” he said. “You’re so … my good gods, you’ve grown.”

All were still as he reached out, touching her face as though she were made of glass. He smoothed her hair away, taking all of her in. He laughed, new tears falling as he pulled her close and crushed her in his arms. “You’re so beautiful!” he cried. He stroked her hair, cradling her against him as tight as he dared. “And you!” He looked up at the witcher in the hall, reaching out to him and taking his hand. “Which one are you? Say something now, quickly. Let me hear your voice and know you.”

“Eskel,” he answered. And then Jaskier was up on his feet, pulling him into another embrace.

“Eskel!” Jaskier cheered. “Eskel, you look even more heroic than I ever imagined! Oh, let me look at you. Oh, oh! Lambert! Vesemir! Where are you, come forward!”

He dashed into the hall, only to turn on his heel for another look at Eskel, for just one more eyeful of Ciri. Over her shoulder, he saw Geralt sitting there on the bed, his yellow eyes wide, the tears still clinging to his chin.

“Oh,” Jaskier whispered. “Oh, I see. I see.”

He walked forward, gliding a hand beneath Geralt’s jaw. He touched his eyes with his other hand. Carefully, he wiped the last of Geralt’s tears away. It dangled, a little drop at the tip of his finger and he brought it close. He closed his hands around it, cradled them to his chest.

Geralt stood slowly before him. And he smiled.

Ciri tugged at Jaskier’s shirt, her head turned away politely. She cleared her throat and said, “Jaskier? Lambert and Vesemir are on their way up. And you’re … well, you’re not at your most presentable.”

Eskel averted his eyes, his back turned to the scene, however touching. “You might want to get a bit more dressed. And quickly,” he added, for Jaskier was standing in his smallclothes.

Jaskier snorted. “All of you, turn away for decency’s sake! We’re having a moment, here.”

“And what about me?” Geralt asked. “Shall I look away?”

It was nothing but empty jest and Jaskier smiled. “No,” he replied. “No, you’re looking where you’re needed. But I suppose to be fair …”

He clapped a hand over Geralt’s eyes. He leaned forward, whispering against Geralt’s lips. “There. Now no one can see. No one … but me.”

There were no witnesses to that first kiss. It was a secret Jaskier kept for himself.

However, the second, third, and forth had quite a startled audience, as Geralt and Jaskier both fell deaf to the clatter of footsteps in the hall. Ciri took it upon herself to usher the others from the room, explaining on the way. After all, with the curse lifted, she no longer needed to be Jaskier’s eyes. His mouth, however, was currently occupied.

-

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