#like that's a whole can of worms that probably should have stayed shut

[sakurasfallingstar]

The Sky, the Land, the Sea, and the Cherry Tree

So this was just a weird plot bunny I've had involving Kingdom Hearts and Sakura Haruno. It probably won't go anywhere else from here, but if anyone wants to use the idea, they can. Just please give me credit.

Also, this was written on my phone late at night, and obviously, writers can't catch all their own mistakes.

Anyways, enjoy.

Kaguya felt the burning rage consumed her very being as these two boys, who where the recarnation of her sons seal her away. She wanted revenge.

Then she felt it.

The door had opened opened, just ever so slightly. She could feel the energy of the worlds seep out from behind it. The world's that were never ment to connect to this one.

She smiled wickedly. She had a the perfect thought that would make this team suffer.

Kaguya allowed her hair to extend and wrap around the the girl.  She had flung her through the opening and watched as door closed as she was sealed away. The screams of the girl's name leaving her teammates lips, brought Kaguya great comfort.

Sakura bearly had enough chakra to one last healing, but nothing more than that. She along with her teammate had let their guards down. Watching as Kaguya was sealed. She even saw Naruto fling black Zetsu to be sealed along with his mother. If only they had known what she would do.

The moment Sakura felt the hair wrap around her she tried to struggle. She even reached out for her sensei for help, but was only able to brush her fingertips against his. She heard him call out for her. Watched as her two other teammates, looked at her. Their eyes shocked with not just worry, but what seemed like helplessness.

"SAKURA," they shouted, together.

Oh, how she once dreamed of them calling her name. However unlike those dreams, it did not sound warm, or happy. It sounded like a plea for her life.

Despite moving at such a fast speed everything around me seemed like it was all in slow motivation. I watched as they grew smaller the further I got.

My eyes grew heavy, after feeling like I was flung threw an invisible force. The force had stretched before tearing. Then I saw the door.

'It closing,' my subconscious, told me as the world around was enveloped in darkness.

The last thing I could feel was my body being submerged into water.

Sora and Riku were at it again, and Kairi was waiting for them at the end point. Most days it was fun to watch, exciting even. Today, however, was different.

From where she stood, she caught a speck of pink from the corner of her eye. She began to walk toward it, and when she saw that it was a person she ran towards them.

Kneeling down toward the girl, she noted that she was breathing, but unconscious. the girl couldn't be any older than 12, yet it looks as if she had been through a lot.

The pink haired girl's clothes were worn, burned and missing it's right sleeve. Not to mention the minor bruises, and the hole that Kairi was sure if she flipped the girl over she'd find an identical one on the other side.

"Riku, can't you just hold back a little for once?"

"Now that wouldn't really do you any good. If you want to beat me then you just have to keep getting better."

Hearing her two boys' voices she called out to them for help.

It was Riku who picked her up, and it was Sora who suggested she stay over his place. His mother was the island's healer in an unofficial way, so yeah.

His mother didn't ask many questions, just hurriedly guided them to the extra room. Riku laid her down of the soft bed. They watched as Sora's mom cover the girl up with a white sheet. The woman even opened the window's blinds slightly to let some light in.

When Sora's mom left, it was quiet between them. They could only stare at the sleeping girl, as the ceiling fan provided a light hum in the background.

In a way it similar to how they first met Kairi.

A girl who they never seen before, washes up on the island. They have no idea where she could have come from. The only thing it brought to the islanders was that thought that there might be more beyond the island. Now the only thing with this girl is that she, unlike Kairi, may have some recollection of where she came from.

It took three days for the pink haired girl to wake up.

Sora was in the room just taking away, to keep her company, when she opened her eyes.

Of course he and his friends have been visiting. Not only were they curious of the girl, but they also didn't want her to feel lonely. They knew she didn't have anybody to make sure she was ok or visit, so they took it upon themselves.

Only they didn't expect how she would react when she woke up.

When I opened my eyes, I knew I was in unfamiliar territory with an unfamiliar person. I shot out of bed taking a defensive stance.

The boy before me was shocked by my sudden movements. I fact he had even fell out of his chair. I watched as he stood slowly, careful not to make sudden movements. His rose his hand, keeping his palms open, as to show he ment no harm.

"Hi. It's nice that tour awake now. My friends and I found you washed up on shore," he paused, before continuing, "We brought you to my home so my mom can look after you. She's pretty much the island's unofficial doctor. Speaking of which, I think I should tell her your awake. She probably has some questions for you to answer, and some move things to check. I'll call for her from here. She's downstairs, so she shouldn't have a problem hearing me. I can see you're a little on edge so I'll stay here so you can watch me. I promise i am not here to hurt you."

I watched as he called for his mother. I even channeled chakra to my ears to listen for reinforcements just in case.  However, true to his word it was just his mother who entered.

Slightly letting my guard down I answered all medical related questions. I still had know idea if they were friend or foe, but I wasn't going to risk it.

When she and the boy left, I could hear the his excited chatter.

"I can't wait to tell Kairi and Riku she's awake. I'm sure they'll be so excited to meet her! In fact, I should go get them right now," he said, excitedly.

However, his mother stopped him in his tracks when she spoke, "Sora, perhaps you should hold off. She just woke up, and based on her physical conditions; she must have been through a lot. Give her time."

"Ok mom."

I listened to their steps as they walked away. Once they where far enough, I checked over myself, with my chakra. I noted the bruises, and the slight scaring but nothing too serious to waste my chakra on.

With a sigh, I removed the white sheet. Bringing my legs over the beds ledge, however I could quite touch the floor. They just hung there. In fact my feet haven't hung like this since I was in the academy. Panic was staring to bubble within me.

Hurriedly, I made my way to the connected bathroom. What I saw in the mirror, cause me to almost loose my cool.

There before me stood, a girl who I have long out grown. She stared back at me with wide emerald eyes, and tousled pink hair. The baby fat still being out grown, and the purple diamond faded but still there.

My hand reached out and presses against the cool glass.

This couldn't be happening. After the fight, I knew something must have happened. Especially after being flung, but for my body to regress back into my twelve year old state seemed unlikely. Yet, my reflection proves otherwise.

Backing away, my back was pressed against the wall. I felt like I couldn't breathe, my heart rate accelerated. I even saw my hands tremble as I brought them up to run through my hair.

I was having panic attack. 

I slid down to the floor, the wall being my only real support to stay somewhat upright.

"I need to calm myself," I said, to myself.

I looked around the bath room and tried to find something to refocus on. There was nothing that caught my attention. Next best thing to do is to take deep breaths and count.

Breath in.

'One.'

Exhale.

Breath in.

'Two'

Exhale.

Breath in.

'Three.'

Exhale.

On and on that cycle went, until I could finally feel in control.

How long I sat on the bathroom floor for, I don't know. All I knew is I was twelve again, on an unknown island, I just had a panic attack, and I was so fucking hungry.

Seeking out wasn't an issue, but being hungry can be slightly distracting. Which would explains why the brunette boy, startled me as I raided his fridge.

Rude, I know, but cut me some slack. I fought a war, got stabbed, saved countless of lives, pumped my best friends hear manulally, punch a goddess, got transported to who knows where, and was age reduced to be a preteen. I think food being the only thing on my right now is considerably reasonable.

"You know, if you were hungry, you could've just told us," he said, with a teasing grin.

For a moment, I saw Naruto instead of him.

Looking down, I mumbled, "I didn't want to be a bother."

"You'll never be a bother here. How about we get you some warm food, and talk a bit. You know, get to know eachother."

Perhaps it was the fact that I was hungry, that he had a familiar aura, or that I didn't want to be alone; either way I took him up on his offer.

It would be from this moment on that the strings of fate would intertwine Sakura to not just Sora's soul but to his friends as well. This is where her true journey begins.

[cheesesoda]

The Only Exception.

Part 1: Never Sing Of Love If It Does Not Exist.

chris sturniolo x fem!reader

a/n: as a chris girl, i’m obligated to write a fic obvs also title comes from the song ‘the only exception’ by paramore!! this will be a multiple part fic so there will be more parts to come if y’all like it 🫶

genre: hurt/comfort, fluff

summary: two emotionally unavailable people won’t admit their feelings.

cw: family issues, cheating (not in the main couple), only one bed trope, emotional unavailability 🤞

—————————————————————————-

anybody who knew chris sturniolo knew he was not a fan of commitment. he had never been in a relationship as a result of this fear. sure, he’d had situationships but he ran from anything too serious. he’d been hurt before and he wouldn’t let it happen again.

y/n l/n, on the other hand, never gave herself the chance to get hurt. she’d seen how love had hurt her mother. she’d seen how her father abused her mother’s love. her father had constantly cheated on her mother for her entire childhood. y/n had watched as her father broke her mother’s heart over and over again, just for her to keep forgiving him. she knew her mother didn’t really love him anyway. so y/n decided she never ever wanted that. if that was what love is, she wanted nothing to do with it.

y/n was close friends with all of the sturniolo triplets. she lived next door to them, so it was easy for them to all hang out often. she even made the occasional appearance in their videos.

one day, y/n went to the mall with nick. a cute guy started hitting on her but she quickly shut him down and gave him the cold shoulder. once he left, nick scolded her. “what are you doing, y/n?! he was so cute and nice!” nick exclaimed. “i just don’t want a relationship right now.” she sighed. “you never want a relationship!” he groaned in response. the two finished shopping and went back to nick’s house, still bickering about y/n turning down everybody who has ever wanted to be with her.

she was close to nick. she was close to all the sturniolo triplets, but she didn’t want to tell them about her parents’ marital issues from her childhood and how that made her terrified of love.

“you’re like chris! you’re so scared of commitment!” nick complained. “i’m not scared of anything.” she lied through her teeth. “i just… have bigger priorities than being in a relationship.” she was technically telling the truth—at least part of it.

for the rest of the night, y/n and the triplets watched a movie. however, the only thing y/n could think about was what nick said. “youre like chris! you’re so scared of commitment!” she was scared of commitment, but she was mostly scared of being hurt.

when the movie ended, nick and matt had fallen asleep on the couch. “of course nick couldn’t stay awake in the movie he suggested.” chris rolls his eyes as the credits roll in the background. y/n laughs softly. “i should probably get going.” she exhaled as she stood up from the couch. “i’ll walk you to your door.” chris offered. even though she lived very close, chris still walked her home at night.

they reached y/n’s house quickly but the pair lingered on the doorstep. “is everything okay?” chris asked. “what? yeah, of course! what makes you say that?” y/n defended herself quickly (with a little too much eagerness). “you just seemed a bit… unfocused.” he shrugs. “oh, it’s nothing. nick is just always pestering me to accept people’s advances.” she scoffs. “and why don’t you?” he asked. the way he asked seemed more as if he was finding out for himself, as if he was hoping for a certain answer. “uh… well i guess…” y/n stammers. she didn’t want to open this can of worms ever, especially not in the middle of the night on her doorstep with chris. “sorry, i didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or anything! you don’t have to answer that. good night, y/n.” chris says before jogging down the steps and he walking back to his own home, as she watched him the whole way.

the next day, nick texted y/n asking if she wanted to come along on a roadtrip with them for a video. of course, she agreed. she packed her bags and then met with the triplets the next morning. she sat next to nick in the back while chris and matt sat in the front. they filmed a bit during the car ride and occasionally stopped for snacks. the four arrived at the hotel within 4 hours and checked in.

“we booked 4 rooms. are you sure it only says 2?” nick asked the receptionist after she told him the reservation only listed 2 rooms under his name. “yes. and i’m afraid we’re completely booked.” the receptionist said. nick relented and accepted their fate.

“which room are we in?” chris asked nick. “we? if you think i’m sharing a room with your loud ass when i have to edit these videos, you’re mistaken.” nick scoffed. “wha-?!” chris exclaimed. “fine. matt, where are we staying?” he sighed. “no way, i claim matt, he’s the quietest out of you 3 and he’s the one who gives me the smallest headache!” nick said. “i’m not loud!” y/n exclaims. “for sure… anyway, chris and y/n, you guys are in room 317. matt and i are in room 313.” nick hands y/n the key.

when chris and y/n enter their room, as if it couldn’t get any worse—you guessed it—there was only one bed. “you’ve gotta be kidding me…” y/n groaned. “we have to share a room and a bed?” chris complained. “whatever. do you want to use the shower first?” chris offered y/n. it was already 7pm by the time they’d gotten to their rooms. “if you don’t mind, thank you.” y/n accepts and heads into the bathroom.

as she showered, y/n silently panicked about the situation. sharing a bed with chris seemed terrifying considering she always had a tiny crush on him. and crushes were never good. crushes are just liking people and they either never like you back or they do like you back and you date and get hurt and neither of those outcomes y/n wanted for her and chris.

meanwhile, chris was thinking the exact same thing as he sat on the bed, waiting for y/n to finish showering. y/n was one of his closest friends and he especially didn’t want to lose her.

y/n finished her shower and got changed, but not before realizing that she only packed oversized t-shirts and underwear to sleep in. she exited the bathroom in a big f/c shirt and underwear (luckily, you couldn’t tell if she was wearing shorts or not because of the length of the shirt). “shower’s all yours.” she said and chris took his turn.

after they both finished their night routines, they got into bed; y/n wearing only a shirt and underwear and chris wearing just pajama pants. “good night, chris.” y/n said awkwardly, both of them facing away from each other. “‘night, y/n.” he responded.

they both lie awake in the bed, stiff and tense. y/n thought about chris's question from a couple days ago. “and why don’t you?” why doesn’t she accept anyone’s advances? “i don’t… want to get hurt.” y/n confesses, her back still to chris’s. “what?” he asks. “when you asked me a couple days ago why i don’t accept anybody’s affection. i think i don’t want to be the one to get hurt.” she explains. “…i get that.” he says softly after a long silence. “i think i’m like that too.” she flips onto her other side to face chris, and he does the same. “yeah?” she posed for confirmation. “yeah.” he replied.

it all felt so intimate. and she hated it. “why are you afraid of getting hurt?” chris pondered. this was quickly moving into unsafe territory for y/n and her walls were coming back up. “what?” “i’ve had my heart broken before and i guess i’ve just been more… guarded ever since. what’s your story? why are you scared?” he asked. she swallowed thickly. “um…” should she really tell him this? “i don’t know.” she lies. she wants to open up to him, but she can’t. “i-im pretty tired,” she fake yawns. “good night.” she flips back away from chris again. “oh, yeah, good night.”

[folliesandfolderols]

Writing prompts days 96-100

From this prompt list. If you’ve read this far, I’m not sure you need any explanation, but the short version is I hadn’t written any fiction since 2019, I set a goal to write at least 150 words/day in 2024, and this list was my way to restart. Also I abruptly decided on day 2 I would write an entire Tim/Damian story connecting all the prompts, because I am Good at Judging My Limits. /sarcasm Anyway, I finished the rough draft a while ago and am now unlocking the old entries as I edit.

Read from the beginning here, or on ao3 here.

Day 95 here

***

124. “Turn around.”

***

Tim stalked silently across the rooftop of the abandoned warehouse where Katarina's information had indicated Falcone would be viewing the latest "shipment." God, he hated that word. He hated this entire case. Everything about it made him feel filthy. Hopefully today would be the day they cut off the head. Once Falcone was safely back in prison they would be able to take out the lieutenants in the branches and destroy the operation from the top down.

Jason, Damian, and he had enlisted the help of Stephanie and Cassandra. He knew the other two were as sick of letting people get trafficked under their noses as he was.

"Heads up, warehouse," Stephanie said from her perch two buildings away. "I see a bunch of guys with guns riding in four vans with no back windows coming toward you. Matches the description and GPS tracking of the vehicles Cass tagged leaving the harbor."

"Got it," Tim replied. "Any sign of Falcone?"

"Nope, nothing on my end. Anyone else?"

"No," Cass replied. "I'm five blocks away. There soon."

"No sign of him from here," Damian added from the other side of the building.

"Hope our intel was good or that opens a whole 'nother can of worms," Jason grumbled from his station in a neighboring warehouse. “It’s weird they only had two guys watching the place if the boss is coming.”

Tim tapped his fingers against his thighs. The nerves creeping up the back of his neck and making his hair stand on end agreed with Jason’s worries. Falcone should’ve been waiting for the arrival of his goons. “Hey, maybe he got caught in traffic,” he sort-of joked, trying to silence his own doubts. “He’s a busy guy.”

The silence on the other end told him no one was buying it. 

The four vans turned into the parking lot in front of the warehouse. They pulled up at the unloading area, one man hopped out and pushed the garage door open, then all the vans drove through into the building.

Tim swung through the hole in the roof he’d cut earlier in a darkened corner, silently crawling through the rafters as the vans’ engines shut off.

“Thought the boss was coming to meet us,” one guy said as he opened the door.

“Lemme text and find out where he is,” said another goon, this one with slightly more expensive shoes. Probably in charge of the others, at least until Falcone arrived. “You guys get these folks out here and sitting on the floor.”

He pulled out a phone and started texting while the other gunmen swung open the back doors of the vans and began unloading people, dressed in filthy clothes, with dirt on their skin and despair in their expressions. Tim counted forty of them, and sixteen heavily armed men, which struck him as overkill when one of those guns could have taken out every single one of their prisoners in less than five minutes, grouped as they were. 

He relayed the numbers to the others and listened.

“Says he's on his way,” announced the man in charge. “Hey, all of you come over here for a sec, I gotta tell you something.”

“I don't like this,” Jason grumbled as the goons congregated. The man spoke too quietly for them to hear even with the listening devices they'd planted inside. “Too many changes, too many unknowns. Something’s wrong. We should call it.”

“And let forty more prisoners be trafficked with minimal assurance we’ll recover them?” Damian’s tone could have cut glass. “If you're too afraid to stay, go home. I'll take care of this myself.”

Tim cut off whatever retort Jason would have made in a fierce whisper. “Nobody said they were afraid and you know it. This might be a discretion being the better part of valor situation but I'd also prefer to see if we can free them without giving away the extent that we've investigated the operation.”

“Sirens,” Cass said suddenly.

Police sirens in the Gotham night were hardly a rarity, so Tim had been ignoring their steadily increasing volume for a few minutes now. He could hear a large group of them on the main road as soon as Cassandra mentioned them, but then they abruptly went silent.

“Oh shit,” Stephanie said. “Guys, we got company from GCPD.”

"Are you sure?" Jason said, voice startled even through the modulator. "There's nothing on the scanner."

"Oracle hasn't said anything either," Cassandra agreed.

Stephanie's tone went sharp with concern. "Well, they've kept it on the down low then for whatever reason, but they are here, their lights are dark, and they are definitely headed toward your location."

"Steady, everyone, hold your positions till we get more clarity." Tim scooted closer to the group of prisoners huddled miserably on the floor.

Damian's voice had gone expressionless in the way that meant he was braced for things turning very wrong. "They're approaching this warehouse rapidly. I recognize the vehicle of one of the police lieutenants in Falcone's pay."

Tim frowned, grasping at a stray thought that whispered through his brain and was gone almost as quickly. Falcone, too many guns, human shipments, dirty cops—

Fuck.

"We need to move in now," he blurted, "Falcone sent the cops and this is about to turn into a clusterfuck as soon as they—"

But he was too late. The police cruisers outside pulled to a screeching halt in front of the building. An SUV with a battering ram on the front didn't even pause.

As a voice yelled over a loudspeaker, "GCPD! We have a warrant to search the premises!" the SUV crashed through the loading bay doors and careened toward the prisoners and their guards. The people sitting on the floor screamed and tried to run, only to be herded back by shouting henchmen firing guns in the air.

"What's the plan, what's the plan?" Jason bellowed, from the sound of it running flat out.

"Falcone's gone on a rat hunt and decided everyone in this warehouse is disposable!" Tim shouted over the gunfire. His field of vision went white for a second as his domino absorbed the flashbang's bursts of light and dispersed them. "All of you get in here now before his men kill the prisoners! Priority is rescuing them!" He leapt from rafter to rafter, trying to get above the vans that had transported the prisoners.

A section of the roof disappeared on the opposite side of the warehouse. Damian's silhouette stood outlined against the pink-gray night sky for a second before he slipped inside. "Falcone's henchmen are using the prisoners as human shields," he said dispassionately, grappling to the floor.

"Can we set up a choke point behind the building and get them away one or two at a time as they try to escape?" Stephanie asked.

"Cops are every-fucking-where, no chance," Jason replied, breathing heavily. Tim could hear him firing rubber rounds. "I'm in the building. Cops are returning fire blind through the smoke bombs, the vans look like Swiss cheese. I agree with Tim, I don't think anyone's supposed to leave here alive."

Tim grappled to the top of one of the prisoner vans, landing with a metallic crunch of the roof. Two of the hoodlums closest to him jerked around and started aiming their guns, but he was able to disarm and incapacitate them with his bo within seconds. Their prisoners screamed and crawled across the floor, trying to get away from him. He must look as scary as everyone else hurting them and there was no chance of reassurance as long as he had to be mindful of all the bullets.

"Disable the mafiosi so the cops don't have an excuse to keep firing and get what prisoners you can out of the building," he ordered. "We're operating under triage rules."

He saw the dim glitter of Damian's rope dart striking through the smoke like a snake, rapidly piercing through kneecaps and hamstrings. Cassandra and Stephanie were alternately picking up the younger prisoners and carrying them behind the vans and kicking the guns out of the hands of their captors. Jason had leaped to the roof of one of the vans and was stretched out on his stomach, aiming rubber bullets at the floor so their ricochet would repel the cops from coming closer.

"We are pinned down as long as we make ourselves responsible for the prisoners," Damian said, at his side without Tim having been aware of his approach. "I believe the police behind the building plan to kill whoever exits."

"Can we take them up and out?" Tim asked, then answered his own question. "Too many of them. Shit. All right, it's time to request air support."

"It won't be here soon enough to save all of them." Damian pointed. A bullet zinged past and nearly clipped his arm. Both he and Tim ducked and crawled farther back. "This van still looks operational. I'm going to engage in a diversion by driving through the police blockade and then circling around to garner the pursuit of those behind the building. While I do that, cut an exit into the far side of the building and lead them to escape."

"Damian, that's way too risky." Tim grabbed his bicep when he started to move away. "Don't. Your dad can get Batwing here in five minutes."

"It's unlike you to engage in best-case scenarios." Damian shook himself free and took off in a crouching run for the van he'd indicated.

Shit shit shit. Tim grasped the ankle of a woman in her forties who was too shocked to even get on the floor, and hauled her backwards toward the nominal shelter of one of the other vans. She screamed and sobbed in a dialect he recognized as Mayan but couldn't understand.

"All right everyone," he snapped. "When Shrike takes that van through the cops we're getting as many of these people out as possible. Batgirls, get those laser torches ready to cut through the wall. Hood, which of the other vans can you get started?"

The girls went running to the far wall and began cutting into it. Jason, cursing a blue streak, flipped down off the van roof and into the open driver's side window. The engine coughed a couple of times, sputtered, and then caught just as Damian careened through the warehouse in another van, clipping a few of the gunmen and several police vehicles on his way outside.

About half the cops raced for their cars and started off in pursuit. Tim by example directed the civilians who were still mobile to grab those who weren't and drag them to the van Jason had started.

"Wall is weakened," Cass reported. She and Stephanie moved out of the way.

About ten men who were the last to get on the van shoved themselves on top of the others, crouching in the open doors in a way that practically guaranteed they'd be the first shot. Tim didn't bother trying to dissuade them.

"Go, Hood, go now!" he yelled, smacking the back of the van. Jason floored the van and skidded across the concrete toward the wall Stephanie and Cass had prepped.

Tim grabbed a straggling teenage girl around the waist and fired his grapple gun into the ceiling, lifting them both above the fray. She followed him, flinching but surefooted, as he helped her to the hole in the roof Damian had left.

Once outside, they both crawled on their bellies to the edge of the building. Jason was taking the van fast enough to practically tilt it around corners as he headed for the gates that led to the main road.

Holding his breath, Tim searched for the van Damian had been driving and spotted it a few buildings down, surrounded by police. Tim cursed under his breath. "Quédate aquí," he said to the girl, hoping she spoke Spanish. Her firm nod reassured him enough to take off for the rooftop of the adjacent building.

"Batgirls, I need one of you to retrieve a civilian from the northwest corner of the building we were in." He leaped the gap between warehouses and continued at a dead run for Damian's location. "Shrike is pinned down by cops, gonna see what I can do."

"Got it," Stephanie responded.

Tim flung himself to his belly and crawled the final few feet to the edge of the roof overlooking Damian. Fear beat a rapid tattoo in his chest to match the rush of his pulse in his ears. The police were crouched behind their open doors, guns pointed at Damian, who sat very still, hands on the steering wheel. At least three of the cops had shown up in Bruce's files about Falcone. In the back of one of the unmarked cruisers sat a couple of women, tired and filthy but clearly beautiful underneath all the grime.

"Shrike! GCPD has you surrounded!" The man bellowing was the lieutenant Damian had previously mentioned. "Slowly reach out the window with one hand to open the door. Keep the other hand on the steering wheel."

Damian, for no reason Tim could fathom, obeyed. 

"Step outside the vehicle! Keep your hands up!" Once Damian stood outside the van, the lieutenant continued, "Turn around." Damian didn't move. "Turn around. Put your hands behind your head and interlock your fingers!"

And still, to Tim's bewilderment, Damian followed his commands. 

"Shrike, what are you doing?" he barked, voice taut with nerves.

No response.

"Red Robin, we've got the girl in your vehicle and are awaiting further instructions," Stephanie's voice cut into his ear.

“You're waiting for instructions? Hell called, said they need a Zamboni,” Jason said in response, and she snorted with laughter.

Tim had to remind himself they had no idea what he was seeing. He forced the dread out of his voice and far from his brain. Without a clear head more people would die. "Cass, I need you here with me." He pinged her his exact location. "Steph, wait where I parked so I can get to you without looking. This is turning into an extraction."

The police lieutenant approached Damian with extreme caution, handcuffs and gun at the ready. By the time he knocked Damian down to the asphalt and planted a knee in the small of his back, Cass materialized out of the night at Tim's elbow. Together, they watched the cop haul Damian to his feet and shove him toward a cruiser.

When Damian struck, it was so swift Tim's eyes couldn't quite follow it. One second he was walking past the car with the two women in the back, the next he had kicked the legs out from underneath the police lieutenant, hooded cape flaring in a liquid spate of motion. The other cops yelled and started to rush toward him. Hands free of the cuffs, Damian grabbed the lieutenant's gun and skidded it away. Yanking the door of the cruiser open, he pulled the women out and pushed them toward freedom.

"Fuck!" Tim anchored his grapple into an adjacent building and heard Cass do the same as he dove down. He focused on getting to Damian, tuning out every other sensory input as much as he could.

He still heard the gunshots, rapid-fire from several weapons, just as his arm locked around Damian's waist.

Damian flinched and grunted, but his hands gripped Tim's body securely. A bullet slammed into the Kevlar covering Tim's back. He gasped for breath, swinging back up to the roof where his grapple hook had landed, and immediately firing again.

"Status report!" he yelled in Damian's ear when he had air in his lungs again.

"Hit twice, once with damage," came the soft reply. He could barely hear Damian's voice over the rushing of his pulse in his ears and the wind past his face.

Gotta keep moving, gotta get there, gotta get out of here. "Batgirl, get ready to get us the fuck out of here as soon as we're all in that car. Shrike's wounded." Tim swallowed against the sick certainty that the wet warmth soaking into his side was Damian's blood.

"Just hang on, Dami," he said, quiet enough that he didn't think the comms would catch it. "I've got you."

days 101-104 here

[secondratefiction]

South Park K2 starter that never got off the ground

(Kyles POV)

'Wendy wants to get back together.'

I'd been staring at my phone in utter silence for I don't even know how long. I guess shock really is a hell of a drug.

I shouldn't be surprised really… Stan and Wendy had been doing this dance our whole lives practically. Break up, make up, break up, make up. Wash, rinse, repeat, every six months since we were eight years old.

I should have seen this coming.

Stan showed up one night a couple months ago because the two of them had split again. He was drunk and babbling, and carrying on about how this time he really was done with her. It was all stuff he'd said before…

But then there were a whole bunch of things he hadn't said before…

Like how much I meant to him, and how he didn't know where he'd be without me. How he'd never really thought about that kind of stuff, but now that it was right in front of him, he didn't know how he didn't notice it sooner.

And like a complete fucking jackass, I believed him.

And for the last couple months, things between us had changed. Probably irreversibly. Not that we'd really gone public with the more romantic aspect of our relationship, but I've never been all that big on obvious displays of public affection anyway. And any of the smaller things we did was pretty normal for us anyway, so nobody not in the know would've picked up on it.

For me though, the whole can of worms had been busted completely open. And if fairytales and happy endings were real, that would have been fine. But this was South Park, happily ever after didn't happen here.

Which is what left me here.

Sitting in the middle of my bed at 9:43 on a friday night, with a string of texts from my best friend - who I'd spent the last two months unofficially dating - saying he was getting back together with the same girl I'd watch break his heart time and time again.

There was a deep ache in my chest and for a moment I could kind of understand why Stan was always so quick to bury himself in a bottle.

My phone buzzed, and it was the first time I realized I'd been crying. It was Stan, and despite the overwhelming pain throbbing in my chest I still answered it like I was on autopilot or something.

He was talking too fast for my brain to process, only catching every third or fourth word as I stubbornly tried to get it to function. From the little bit I could gather, and just generally knowing Stan, he was apologizing about Wendy, while at the same time wanting me to tell him what to do.

"Stan…" I finally cut in, and he immediately shut up, "Stan I can't…. Look, I can't help you feel better about this right now."

I shook my head as I started to pull my phone away, "Do what you gotta do, Dude. No hard feelings, I want good things for you two. But I need to be alone right now."

I hung up, and it took everything in me not to hurl my phone across the room. I couldn't breath, I can't sit still. I just… I need to do something. I can't just stay here all night, or I'm going to lose it.

It took three tries before I was able to get my phone open, and by then my vision was so blurry from holding back tears I almost couldn't see the damn thing once it was. I sat on the edge of  my bed, tapping my heel urgently as I waited for him to pick up.

Please pick up.

"Hello?"

He sounded half asleep and I worried for a moment if I'd woken him.

"Hey, Ken… is it ok if I come over?"

"Yeah, man, it's… it's fine. Kyle… is everything ok?"

".....No."

[brokenbutunbowed]

I'm officially being hired on at work (had to get into this place via temp agency) and it comes with an almost 3.50/hour raise. Unfortunately it means moving to 3rd shift for who knows how long, but I'm hoping I'll be able to worm my way back on first by this time next year. Large majority of first shift is almost-old-enough-to-retire peeps, so it's really just a waiting game. This isn't a job I'm passionate about, or find fulfillment in, but it's incredibly easier than any job I've ever had, and once I get that raise, the best paying.

I start 3rds on Monday (well, Sunday at 11pm) and was gonna use this weekend to flip my sleep schedule. I found out last minute this morning they're forcing me to work 1st shift tomorrow (we don't usually work weekends) and it's ruined my whole sleeping plan. They're supposed to announce weekend overtime by Wednesday, and overtime isn't generally mandatory for temps, only voluntary, so I'm honestly pissed. Won't even be getting paid ot because we had Monday off. So I don't even get a real day off and I have to figure out how to flip my sleep in one day instead of two.

I am pretty excited to finally have health insurance that I can use for the first time since I aged off my mom's health insurance two years ago. I'm sure I'll never fucking use it anyway because doctors suck and adhd makes appointments hard, but ya know...

My goal for this year is to finish paying off enough of our house to make the stupid PMI go away, so we no longer have to piss away an extra $200 per month for "insurance" that literally does fuck-all. I'm not sure if it's technically possible to do that in one more year, but it'll be fucking close.

After that's gone, I'll feel a lot less guilty about throwing more money into hobby related stuff. Gotta finish overhauling the basement room, tear down and reinstall new wood panels in the wall that got damaged, I wanna repaint the floor and possibly walls, a drop ceiling would be a dream (or whatever ceiling it would be called that covers up the beams and pipes and whatever). It's going to become my snake room when it's ready, which is going to be a fucking expensive multi year project considering I'm going all pvc enclosures, bioactive, halogens, uvbs, etc for every snake. I keep accidentally adding more snakes to my wishlist and it's become silly. But hey, something to dream about, right? Moving the snakes downstairs will give me more room in the current tarantula-gecko-snake room for other stuff, too, like expanding into some new gecko/lizard species and diving back into tarantulas more. Losing Xerxes two years ago hurt so bad it was hard to feel passionate about my Ts for a long time, but I can feel the joy coming back now more and more every time I'm with them.

Which reminds me, tomorrow is feeding night for the sneks and gecks.

I probably should be asleep, but my original plan was to stay up tonight as long as I possibly could to try and get ready for my new schedule, and my stubborn brain doesn't wanna shut off.

[leuchtstabrebell]

Whumptober Day 28 & 29 / Prompt: Sacrifice & Alternative Prompt: Broken

The mission had gone horribly wrong. Of course it had. Peter had tried to tell them before, had tried to tell Sirius that it was a bad idea, but they did not listen, as usual.

And now they are here, captured, in enemies‘ territory.

The death-eater Peter suspects to be Rodolphus Lestrange has pushed Sirius to his knees, one hand twisted in his dark hair, the other holding the wand that is pointed at Sirius. Peter himself is kept in a similar position by the other death eater. Peter can hear his own heart beating way too loud. He thinks off the stories he’s heard, thinks about the other time he was captured.

If we survive, I am going to personally kill Sirius for dragging me into this, he thinks and then shudders when the man holding him slowly drags his wand across Peters‘ throat.

„Why don’t we sit down and have a nice talk?“ Lestrange asks. „Just tell us what we know and we’ll let you go.“

„Never!“ Sirius barks and is silenced when Lestrange lets go of his hair to backhand him. The silence doesn’t stay for long. Sirius regains his composure and spits on the ground. „We’re no dirty turncoats like you, stupid snakes, we won’t tell you anything. There’s another thing I’m curious about though,“ he says, and Peter closes his eyes in despair. Why can’t Sirius keep silent for once in his life? But Sirius continues to speak despite Peters‘ silent pleas. „Which one of you was allowed to lick the dark lords‘ shoes this morning? I bet you were bending all over yourselves just to be in his glorious presence. God, you’re pathetic.“

Lestrange growls. „Shut the fuck up, Black,“ he says. He nods in the direction of Peter. „Break his fingers, one by one,“ he tells the man behind Peter.

No. Cold dread washes over Peter as he tries to escape from mans‘ grasp. It’s no use.

„I couldn’t tell you anything, even if I wanted to,“ he tells them but the death-eaters don‘t seem to care. The man behind him makes Peter lie down on the floor with a swift Imperius, then kneels down on him, suffocating.

He makes Peter spread out his right hand. „Why don’t we start with the index finger?“ Lestrange says, playfully. Peter can hear Sirius struggle and kick and curse.

„Please don’t,“ Peter pleads, „I swear I don’t have anything I could tell you.“

Snap. It happends without warning. For a blissful moment, the pain does not yet register. Then Peter is wailing in agony, abruptly released from the curse, which seems to make the pain so much worse. There are black spots at the edge of his vision.

He can’t see to stop crying. „Please,“ he whimpers, „please.“

„By Salazar, this one is annoying. Maybe we should try it with the other one, probably not such a whiny bitch,“ the man says.

„What do you say?“ he asks but all Peter can focus on is the pain. The man brings down his foot on Peter’s right hand, making Peter cry out harder.

„I asked you a question: How about we give your friend over there the same treatment?“

And Peter knows what he is supposed to say. The brave thing, the loyal thing, the good thing to do would be to try and protect Sirius.

„I… I…,“ he says, heaving in breaths between sobs.

„I,I,I am going to piss my pants,“ the man mocks him. In the background, Lestrange laughs.

„Fine then, let’s do the next finger,“ Lestrange says.

„No!“ Peter cries.

„No? So it’s going to be your friend after all, worm?“

Hesitantly, Peter nods.

„What? I can’t hear you,“ the man says. Shame and self-hatred choke him. „Yes,“ he whispers hoarsely.

„I want to hear you say it,“ the man says.

„Do it to him instead,“ Peter says. Sirius is more used to torture, and he has a higher tolerance for pain as well, Peter tells himself. After all, he had his whole childhood to practice.

The two men laugh. „Well, would you look at that,“ Lestrange says. „What was that about turncoats and snakes again?“

[dalchiid]

Chapter 39!! My thoughts are all over the place with this one so I apologize in advance.

“You're welcome to join us, Y/N. You've already gotten in the way of my time with my brothers. You're free to do so again tonight." First of all, this made me laugh. Biting as always. Jungkook is so sassy when he wants to be. He’s so respectfully rude, but I can’t help but love his honesty.

To truly start off, it’s been a while since we’ve had dialogue from Seokjin that didn’t involve him breaking up fights. Ironic enough, as much as he loves gossip he sure knows how to simmer people down. Speaking of simmer, I love the advice Hoseok gave to Taehyung about not allowing things to boil over. The idea of thinking before we act can and should be applied to all areas of life. I also love that Taehyung and y/n and growing closer. Him opening up about his feelings? Going as far as to defend her from Jimin? He’s clearly taken a liking to her and hopefully y/n doesn’t do anything to mess up whatever bond they’re building. Well, technically she already has, but let’s hope Taehyung doesn’t find that out. I can already imagine just how betrayed he’ll feel and I’d hate for y/n to be on the receiving end of all that aggression.

Also, here I was thinking it would be Jimin’s vindictiveness that would eventually creep up on y/n. But I should’ve known better. Back at the Baek’s it was only Seokjin who seemed to know that y/n and Hoseok had been “sneaking” around. So of course him of all people would know the very in-and-outs of everything that’s going on under his own roof. In hindsight y/n should’ve listened to her guts. Just as I suspected, it’s not just the other brothers she should be worried about, but also the servants on their payroll. On her way to Namjoon’s room she saw the servants and the servants saw her. It’s natural that they’d gossip and for said gossip to reach the ears of the one who loves it most. Additional ears and eyes aside, Seokjin’s ability to prod others is spot on: stick with leading questions and if you press hard enough they’ll eventually tell on themselves.

“Spying on me” yea that was surely a can of worms that should’ve stayed shut. If anything Y/n should’ve worded her concerns better. As the saying goes <you wouldn’t be so defensive if you had nothing to hide> right? That little confrontation with Hoseok (had it taken place) probably would’ve made Seokjin even more curious. Not that he isn’t already curious since y/n’s answers to his questions did nothing but provide him with more questions. But perhaps like Jimin, y/n would’ve found herself on Seokjin’s dislike list had Hoseok told him to back off. So, sure she’s managed to keep him at bay for now, but her next moves (specifically whatever she decides to do with Namjoon) will decide whether this whole thing blows up in her face.

I wonder if Hoseok will connect y/n being in Namjoon’s room with the same day she lied about spending time outside. Regardless, at this point she’s really playing him like a fool. Although I’m equally upset at Namjoon as I am at y/n. It takes two to tango so they’re both on the hook. I can understand y/n being vulnerable in such a new enviornment, but Namjoon is smart and has lived with Hoseok for eons, so he truly knows his brother best. The fact that Namjoon is willing to take risk after risk by putting y/n in the crossfires is what makes think he doesn’t care about her as much as he leads on. She feels more like a necessary casualty, yet another piece in the grand scheme of his plans. I’m just curious as to what exactly those plans are and exactly how far he’s willing to go to achieve them.

Finally, the sex scenes between y/n and Hoseok sure have a way of being deeply intimate (and steamy but that’s all thanks to your writing). From the very beginning it’s felt that way and I think it’s because of how intense Hoseok always is. To put it simply he fucks like he’s trying to merge their souls together. Considering y/n only reciprocates when she’s high it’s yet another symbolism of the huge power imbalance in their relationship. The fact that Hoseok is always willing to give so much of himself while expecting the same from y/n in return. With that said let’s hope movie night goes smoothly. It’s been a while since we’ve had everyone in one scene, so I’m looking forward to it, unless there’s a time skip. Hopefully y/n’s cold resolves quickly. The logical part of me is like well of course she got sick she was out in the rain all day, but I’m also getting a sense of foreshadowing so who knows. Perhaps it’s more than a cold…. Thank you for another great chapter!

— cloudy anon ☁️

Jungkook is fun to write. He has no filter and has 0 clue as to why he gets reprimanded for it.

I don't know if anyone had Taehyung and Y/N bonding on their bingo card but it's happening. We get to see that Taehyung is actually a caring person. He just has issues with his anger as most people do and he really wants to change. A lot of people could use Hoseok's advice too.

Taehyung defending Y/N from Jimin is something that surprised the reader but not so much his brother. Jimin knows Taehyung can be loving and so it's why he walked away without any issue. Despite being mad. The way he gently closed Taehyung's door goes to show he doesn't want to anger his brother because he does care for him.

If the day comes where everyone finds out what Namjoon and Y/N are up to or if she successfully runs away Taehyung will never be able to forgive her. He'll show a side of himself she will never miss.

Seokjin will always find things out and if he doesn't know he'll make sure of it that he does. He'll even go as far as paying someone extra if the nut is too hard to crack. Or even sleep with the maids with empty promises of being theirs forever if they can tell him what they saw. But most of the time he can figure it out himself. Like you said, if he presses hard enough they'll tell on themselves.

If Y/N would have let Hoseok confront Seokjin things would have been way worse for her. Seokjin would seemingly brush off the situation but he'll make sure Y/N would be under his watchful eye. More so than she already is. It's now more than ever though that she keeps an eye out whenever she's with Namjoon. She just might tell Namjoon something about it in hopes that he'll keep watch over who sees them and who doesn't. Otherwise the situation won't be bad for just her but for him too.

Namjoon either really likes Y/N or he's up to something and if he's up to something then what is it? He's said and done a lot of things that makes him appear questionable. Is Y/N just a pawn in a grand plan or does he actually care for her? Maybe he just has a weird way of showing his affection towards her. Maybe he doesn't think things through for her sake. A lot of maybes.

Hoseok gives his all in everything. Even when it comes to sex. He just wants to drown Y/N in his love. He believes she'll fall for him eventually and when she does he'll forever give all of himself because he loves that hard - that much. To the point that it might be overwhelming for some.

Thank you for reading! Can't wait for everyone to read the next chapter 💜

[astroboots]

Take me Apart

Summary: Santiago learns to let go for you and Frankie. (...or something?— I'm terrible at descriptions).

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Santiago x female reader (you) x Frankie

Warnings: Anal, polyamorous relationship, fingering, threesome-sh, oral, explicit M/M, smidge of angst?

Wordcount: 2,000 words

Homecoming Universe | Astroboot’s Masterlist

Psychologically speaking, being the center of attention during sex can be a bit uncomfortable for Santiago.

He doesn’t like the focus to solely be on him, him and his pleasure. When the spotlights are all on him, when the person he is with keeps glancing up at him, watching him for his expression— there’s an element to it that makes him feel seen and exposed. He hates the idea of being bare and vulnerable even as he’s stripped of every thread of clothing in front of another person.

Which…. Probably speaks miles of his subconscious and why he can never make a long term relationship work, but Santi’s not ready to open that particular can of Freudian worms just yet.

The problem with Santiago is that he can’t shut off his brain and lose himself in the act. Even as someone is wrapping their lips around his cock, he can’t seem to just let himself relax and enjoy how good it feels. Instead he’s already mapping out the next step in his repertoire.

There will be a countdown in his head of how long it should take before he should move things along. Otherwise claustrophobia sets in.

Without an escape to keep his busy mind distracted, Santi always finds himself trapped inside his own head.

He overthinks things, like why he shouldn’t be here, tucked between the two of you in your bed, in your house. Why he shouldn’t have stayed as long as he already has, because he’s bound to overstay his welcome (if he hasn’t already done so).

You’re kneeling between his legs, while he’s seated on your husband’s lap by the edge of the bed. He feels stupid in this position. Like he’s a ventriloquist dummy on Frankie’s lap as you have three fingers knuckle deep inside of him, well slicked with enough lube that must have left the bottle empty.

“Santiago,” your voice calls out.

He looks down to where your eyes are looking up at him, observing him.

“Don’t think so much.”

You saying that doesn’t really help much at all. Telling someone not to do something only serves to draw more attention to the thing they’re not supposed to be doing. He’s just about to roll his eyes and tell you the very same when your lips wrap around his cock, with a gentle suck that steals every word from his throat and he has to bite down on his lip to keep himself from making any sound.

Everything slows for him. Then you curl your fingers, reaching that devastating spot in him and his mind whites out. For a blissful moment, he can’t think of anything at all. You pull off his cock, pressing open mouthed kisses along the twitching length of him, maintaining the eye contact.

“You have such a pretty cock, Santiago,” you tell him with a sweet praise in your voice.

It’s such a silly statement, he can’t help but snort with laughter. He’s two seconds from opening his mouth to make a snide joke about it, but before he can utter a word in retort, you’ve got your lips wrapped around him again, sinking down on the length of him. Any ability to form words dissipates and melts into a strangled moan.

“Fuck that’s a pretty sound,” Frankie’s voice rumbles through him like a low and distant thunder from behind.

The man is so closely plastered around his back, there isn’t an inch of space between them, his jaw resting on Santi’s shoulder as he looks down at you kneeling between Santi’s legs.

The attention from the both of you makes his whole back prickle. He feels uncomfortably aware of every inch of himself like he’s on fucking display.

“I need you to relax Santiago, stop thinking so much, let us make this good for you,” you tell him, voice dripping with golden honey that is enough to melt his brain.

You and him are so alike in so many aspects, competitive, stubborn, loyal, but in this you differ, you wear your vulnerability with pride in these intimate moments. There is no pretense.

You’re not like him.

You’re—

Indulgent.

Sweeter than he ever thought you would be.

You take your time, draw it out, tongue laving over his length to ensure not an inch is missed, but it’s not to tease, you just want to make sure he feels everything.

Adoring and sweet.

It’s overwhelming.

Your fingers rub against that perfect spot again, stealing the breath from his lungs, and all he can do is gasp with a keening sound as Frankie keeps murmuring about how good he is being.

And that subconscious instinct in him wants to protest, wants to run away. There’s a part of him that is ready to climb off Frankie’s lap, pull on his pants, bolt out the door and take the first flight out of the country. But every time he tries to say something, parts his lips to utter a word, he finds himself unable to.

You suckle on the tender tip of him, until the pleasure melts his brain and he forgets how to speak basic English beyond curses.

He doesn’t even realize when he’s started doing it, rocking his hips until he’s thrusting back against your fingers, his cock leaking into your perfect mouth as you lick up every drop of precome he has to give.

Then Frankie’s hand snakes around his waist, and he can feel those competent fingers curl around the base of his cock with a loose, gentle grip. Slow, sloppy strokes that feel impossibly good. Electricity surges through his nervous system, short-circuiting his brain with every drawn-out downstroke. It’s not enough and it’s too much; needs it to stop and to keep going both at the same time. And fuck, that doesn’t even make sense, he can’t seem to think anymore, but maybe that doesn’t matter when all Santi knows is that he needs more.

From behind him, he can hear Frankie’s husky voice sound out against the damp skin of his throat. "What do you think, baby? You think he's ready for me?"

Frankie says it with such a maddening calm like he isn’t sitting with Santi in his lap, with a hard-on that could carve a dent against Santi’s ass. He wants to be indignant about it, knows he should be offended that Frankie is talking about him like he's not right fucking here spread out between the two of you. But there's no space left in his brain for anything except the slick slide of Frankie's hand and your fingers curled inside him.

In front of him, he can see you looking at Frankie with the hint of a smile, then you turn back to him, and that smile blossoms into something full and complete that makes his chest warm and content.

“Are you ready Santiago?”

“Shit...fuck—yes cariño.”

At his answer, you slip your fingers out that have him gasping at the loss of it and how empty he feels. Then you reach down and grasp Frankie’s cock from under him, holding it steady for him. The fat tip nudging insistently against him as Frankie slides Santi down on him, inch by thick inch until he’s buried to the hilt.

It’s good, fuck, it’s goddamned perfect.

Frankie’s cock is seated deep inside him. Filling him to the point that it’s almost unbearable. Jesus fucking Christ. Santi is not going to last, going to come in a handful of seconds whether he wants to or not.

He can feel the man’s fingers come to his forehead to brush back the sweaty locks that hang over his brows.

“Is this okay Santiago?’

No. It’s fucking humiliating. The way that Frankie’s talking to him like he’s a high school prom date about to get his cherry popped. It’s condescending. Santi’s not exactly a virgin and this is hardly his first time with a man or even with Frankie, there is no need to treat him like a fragile porcelain doll. But the way that low husk of Frankie’s voice is filled with concern; the careful way that he’s barely canting his hips when he pushes in slightly further; Santi would be lying if he didn’t admit to being turned on as fuck.

“I’m fine Frank, fuck—just, shit, fucking move already.”

Frankie does, hands palming the hollow of Santi’s hips as Frankie drags him up and almost off of his cock before letting Santi sink down on him again. A smooth movement that has the warmth take root in Santi’s stomach and spread outwards until his orgasm is building up at an alarming speed, until he fucking aches from it.

With every deep thrust of Frankie’s hip, pleasure sparks and crackles like gunfire in his veins. It feels so good, mind-numbingly so. It blurs the edges of his thoughts and he can feel his finely honed self-control being chipped away. Pieces of him being expertly deconstructed by the man. In every sense of the word, Santi feels like he is being taken by Frankie. Like Frankie’s taking him apart—taking pieces of him that he’s not fully prepared to give. Santi’s scrambling for some semblance of control, wants to grip onto it with his bare fingers and never let go, but he can feel it slip away from him no matter how tightly he fists his hands into the sheet.

There’s still a part of him that just can’t let go.

Your lips skirt over his temple, feather-light kisses against his sweat-slick forehead, and he must be really out of it because he didn’t even notice when you’d gotten up from the floor and onto the bed next to him. He almost wants to apologize for how gross that must feel. But you don’t seem to mind.

“Good boy, Santiago, you’re doing so well.”

He frowns at your words, feels like you’re ridiculing him even though you aren’t. He just doesn’t know what’s wrong with him that he can’t accept the praise, has to make a face as if you’re making a condescending mockery of him— brows knitted disapprovingly with a tight-lipped frown even as Frankie rocks into him.

And as if you know his thoughts—know how much he’s struggling right now, trapped between wanting to let go and not letting himself to—you drag his hand into yours, weaving your fingers with his and draw them gently down to your thighs.

“You’re so pretty like this Santiago, spread over Frankie’s cock. See how wet you’ve made me?”

It’s not mocking when you say it. Just, sweet and a little bit pleasure-drunk in a way that makes his cock impossibly hard.

“Let Frankie make you come, honey. Come for us and I’ll let you fuck me when you’ve recovered. Just the way I know you like to okay? Take as long as you want with me.”

What you’re really saying is lose control. Fall apart. Let Frankie disassemble him piece by piece and you’ll put him back together again. You’ll let him regain whatever he has lost and relinquished to Frankie with you. And he can do that. With the promise of being given back everything that he’d be giving up.

Frankie angles his hips and thrusts up, deep and consuming. The pleasure of it surges through Santi, heated bliss climbing up his spine. He can feel that familiar heat spreading in his groin that tells him he’s seconds away from coming.

“Be good, Santi, be good for us. Let go,” your voice coos before your lips press up to his.

Fuck, Santi thinks he can do that. He can be good and let go for you if you ask.

Frankie is pressed against his back, arms circled over Santi's chest, and you are plastered just as close to his front. There's nowhere else for him to go, but Santi doesn't feel trapped. Instead he feels safe, laid out between the two of you like he is the center of your worlds and all your attention. He feels at home.

Santiago surrenders to the feeling and lets go.

Dedication: Forever and ever and always to my one and only @thirstworldproblemss I love you so much, thank you for beta-reading, thank you for listening to my nonsense, thank you for being my friend.

Follow me on astroboots-writes and turn on notifications to be notified when I post something new!

[slurrmp]

stargazing ✰ 13th doctor x reader

a/n: uwu what's this? i live?

holy shit - i'm so sorry for leaving you all for like eight months. just i hit writer's block and the lack of doctor who made it hard for me to get any sort of writing done. anyway, the easter special awoke my urge to write and this came out of it. definitely not really up to parr - but i hope y'all enjoy it. just some soft fluffy moments.

slight spoilers for the special. But not heavy.

posted on my ao3 | wattpad.

“Don’t say a word.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything!”

There’s a smirk that slowly forms at the corner of your lips. Your eyes remained closed and your hands were clasped together, resting on your stomach. The breeze was cool against your face, a nice change from the whole running in the middle of the desert thing all four of you did earlier that day. The sound of waves crashing against the rocks was almost enough to lull you into a deep sleep. Your body was sore and the bandage around your rib cage was uncomfortable, but that was the price you paid when you did stupid things. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.

Yaz and Dan had decided to go into the village to find something for the humans of the group to eat - you had a strong craving for seafood, considering where you were staying for the night, but you had no idea what type of food you could even get on this planet. There had been a couple of places that you just could not stomach the food that had been offered to you - worms and something that looked like snails had been the last place you visited, you couldn't keep them in your stomach - throwing them back up, which meant that you didn't eat at all until you were back on the TARDIS, which had been a full twelve hours. You knew that you should probably eat something today if you didn't want the Doctor on your ass again. You had almost fainted from the lack of food on the last trip, and you had been injured this time around - running back to your little air bnb like place didn't help your injuries whatsoever. Having been forced into the bathroom, the Doctor had applied the fast healing cream onto your rib cage and also forced you on bed rest for the rest of the evening, that didn't stop you, however, from utilizing the cute little balcony thing up on the roof.

It was about twenty minutes later that the Doctor had come to join you. Nudging you slightly, so that both of you could fit on the one lounge chair together.

“I was just going to point out the constellations for you.” She continued. A sigh escaped you, as your eyes cracked open. You stared up into the spotted blackness of the sky. The planet had TWO moons, making the evening appear to be brighter than home. The multitude of stars made your head spin - it was almost like there were more stars on this side of the galaxy than at home. “But if you would rather sit here in silence, that's okay as well.”

Turning your head to look at the Time Lord - whose shoulder rested against your own - you couldn’t help the laugh that left you. “Of course you can point out the constellations for me.” You had almost been worried that the Doctor would chew you out again for your reckless behaviour today. But hearing that she only wanted to tell you about the stars, made your entire body feel light for once. The Doctor turned her head towards you - your breath sudden caught at the back of your throat. She was higher up on the recliner than you, causing her nose to brush against your forehead slightly. There had been this ... THING lingering between both of you for a while now. Ever since New Year's and the ever occurring time loop, Dan had figured it out - even Yaz and you didn’t know whether that was a good thing or not. They kept trying to nudge you in the right direction but - after dealing with the Sea Devils and the pirates, after hearing the fact that the Doctor couldn't fix herself to anyone - you backed off.

It was hard to do. Very hard to do. It almost felt like you had shut off a part of yourself, but you didn't want to make the centuries-old alien uncomfortable.

“Are you sure?” She questioned you. Tilting your head up ever so slightly, you rolled your eyes at her. She nudged your arm. “Oi, I just want to make sure - don’t want you going to Yaz and complaining about me.” A fake gasp escaped your lips as you sat up. Your right leg fell off the chair, and you twisted around to look back at the blonde.

“I do not go to Yaz to bitch thank you very much.” The Doctor laughed - causing your smile to grow wider. Slender fingers wrapped around your wrist, pulling you back down on the recliner - but the angel was wrong, causing you to stretch your ribs too far. Your face scrunched up. Why was it whenever you got into a fight, your body would meet a solid object almost every time. Your ribs hurt like a bitch, but the cream that the Doctor had put over your rib cage was slowly starting to take effect. “Besides, it’s really Dan that I go and complain to.” The Doctor snorted as you laid your head against her chest - the sound of twin heartbeats luring you in closer. Your arm slung across her stomach.

“You three...” Her voice was soft, as her fingers started to brush through your hair. “Humans, never cease to amaze me.” A huff left you. “You are so very fragile but you never back down from a fight.” Your nose scrunched once again - of course, she had to make mention of your failed fight. “And when you get hurt and knocked down, you get back up. You’ve spread across the entire galaxy and you continue to live your lives.” You tilted your head back slightly, looking up at the Time Lord. “You have such a short life span, but you do so much within the confinements of those years.”

“To you, we must seem so young.” You replied. Hazel eyes caught yours then. It was quiet for a couple of seconds, before the Doctor leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your forehead. Swallowing, you buried your head into her side. She was bad for your health. Very bad. The things that you would do for this alien were almost sinful. Your mother would never have approved of this relationship - which was why you never told your parents about the things you had been doing for the last three years.

“So very young, which is why I have to keep saving you a lot.” Fingers resumed their petting of your head. “But I never get tired of it.” You could feel the Doctor’s gaze staring down at the side of your face before she tightened her arms around you, pulling you closer to her. Pulling your head out from her side, you let your gaze focus on the night sky.

It was quiet for a couple of minutes - the only noise that could be heard by both of you was the waves. Then suddenly there was a flash in the sky (accompanied by a low rumble). Your arm shot out above you, pointing to the streak of light. “What’s that? A shooting star?” You questioned, you could feel the Doctor move underneath you - her arm coming to join yours. Her index finger pointed at it and you could almost picture her tongue sticking out the side of her mouth and one eye closed. Hand traveled the direction that the “star” had come from, only for it to land on the horizon.  

“The nine-fifteen shuttle to Orion.” The Doctor answered. The prideful tone in her voice made you sit up once again and look down at her.

“The shuttle?” You questioned.

"Leaves every couple of days." A huff left you and your smile was back. "Now, come on - lie back down and I'll tell you all about these clusters of stars." And so you did, finding your position again, snuggled into the Doctor's side. Head rested against her chest, as you watched her finger dance between the shiny dots. You were going to miss this.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Stuck

Prompts: Uhh hi. Wanted to know if you could write something with Logan brin hurt (emotionally, mentally, physically, doesn't matter as long as he's hurt) and Patton, Virgil, and Roman aren't there for him for whatever reason so Remus and Janus take care of Logan and there's a lot of Logan being pulled into and set on laps and just Janus and Roman being Protective? I'm a sucker for hurt logan and Protective Janus and Remus. Okay thanks, have a good time. - anon

 hey there! i absolutely love your fanfics! if possible (and feel free to ignore this), could you write some roloceit angst and hurt/comfort? perhaps with roman being the comforter and logan or janus being the hurt one? again, feel free to ignore this if you don’t want to write this, no pressure - anon

 Can I request some Janus and Virgil or Logan cuddles? - anon

 The answer to all of the above is yes and we switch RIGHT back into projecting-onto-Logan mode!

Read on Ao3

Pairings: roloceit, background platonic lamp, dlamp, dlampr

Warnings: stimming, getting caught in a stim loop

Word Count:  4558

Occasionally, Logan will get stuck.

 Not in a logic loop, no, he’s quite adept at getting out of those, but in certain patterns of behavior. He’ll find himself absentmindedly swinging his arm back and forth and the moment he notices it, he will be unable to stop. It will simply swing there, back and forth, completely unconsciously, and only by someone else walking past and asking him what he’s doing, or tapping him, will he be able to stop.

For the most part, it’s just an annoying inconvenience. It takes him longer to do tasks than it should. It prevents him from engaging in serious conversations when necessary. Occasionally, Roman will also get stuck in a similar fashion and the two of them will shake their heads until they can unstick themselves.

 Other times…

 “Damnit, no, that’s not what I meant.”

 “Well, what did you mean? Because it kind of sounds like you don’t want me to be in your space at all, except your space is the entire Mindscape!”

 “Kiddos, just—calm down—“

 “We can’t, Padre, you know we can’t.”

 “Listen, this whole thing started because—“

 How did this whole thing start?

 Logan curls his fingers around his water bottle and leans back against the couch, closing his eyes as the others continue bickering.

 Thomas had gotten into a small argument earlier today. Nothing too significant, nothing that would drastically impede their friendship, nor chance a cut-off of communication. But enough to make Virgil shoot up protectively the second Thomas got back.

 Roman hadn’t wanted to do anything except immediately apologize. Patton had wanted to talk through everything with Thomas to make sure they understood it. Virgil hadn’t wanted to do anything because Thomas was already stressed.

 Logan—

 Well, Logan’s not sure what to do.

 He doesn’t want to—

 Well. He doesn’t want to do anything.

 Thomas should give his friend time to relax and get a clear head, giving himself time to do the same. They had both reacted emotionally due to the differences in the way they associate emotions with the things that they care about. Thus, in order to reach a conclusion that would satisfy both parties, they needed to determine the best way to explain their differences and work together. The problem arose when figuring out how to communicate something that innate.

 “If we try and say that this is just how we think,” Virgil says firmly, “we’re gonna come off as patronizing or condescending.”

 “But if we don’t say it at all,” Patton points out, “then we’re just going to hurt them again!”

 “So it would be best if we just went away?” Roman throws his hands up. “The first thing we have to do is apologize. We hurt them.”

 “But we’re not responsible for their emotions. We have to talk to them before we can do anything like apologize.”

 “But then it just sounds like we’re preaching at them!”

 “Think of it this way: if you knew that someone was specifically holding their emotions back so that you could feel better, how would you feel?”

 “That was not the right thing to say, Patton,” Virgil mutters under his breath.

 Logan taps his fingers against his water bottle. Tap, tap, tap. Tap, tap, tap.

 “What do you think I’ve been doing?”

 “Roman—“

 “Putting that aside,” Virgil says quickly, “we have to talk about how—“

 They’ve been at this for—how long? Logan can’t remember. They’re feeding off of each other at this point, caught in a feedback loop. Roman will say something, Virgil will point out how that doesn’t make sense to him so how could it make sense to someone else, Patton will try and bring the conversation back to feelings, and on and on they spin. Logan has no emotional stake in this—not that he has much of an emotional stake in anything—and thus he tried to stay quiet, to let them speak.

 He’s already been asked to let them do so many times.

 So he sits quietly, tapping his fingers against his water bottle. Tap, tap, tap.

 “Do you just want me to leave? Should I get some paper plates for myself?”

 “No, kiddo, that’s not what we want—“

 “That would make me feel worse because then it feels like you aren’t comfortable down here.”

 “Well, I’m not! I’m already at max capacity, trying to figure out what you all need from this and all we’re doing is adding more rules for how I’m supposed to behave!”

 “Virgil,” Roman says, “what do you think the rules are? What are we missing about how Thomas is acting?”

 “I just told you all of them!”

 Tap, tap, tap. Tap, tap, tap.

 “But we don’t know what those rules are, if you were to just tell us—“

 “But you’ve told me them so many times, hell, I helped create some of them!”

 Tap, tap, tap. Tap, tap, tap.

 “But there may be rules that you see as rules that we don’t care about, so—“

 “Because it’s not your job to care about them, Princey.”

 “So help me understand! I don’t want to make this harder on you!”

 “You’re not responsible for my emotions.”

 “But I can’t think like that, Virgil. If I tell you to do something or—even if I just say something or bring it up then you’ll get mad at me and I hate it when you’re mad at me.”

 “But you’re not responsible for that.”

 “You’re still going to be mad at me!”

 “Damnit, no, that’s—no, Princey, that’s not true.”

 Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.

 Their voices keep getting louder. His tapping grows frantic. They ring in his ears, even with his eyes closed he can see their faces. He can see Virgil’s eyeshadow getting deeper, he can see Roman’s expressions getting more defined, he can see Patton getting slowly more frustrated. He can hear the tension in the room about to snap.

 They’re all about to start yelling at each other and he can’t do anything to stop it.

 All he can do is tap, tap, tap, on his water bottle.

 “What’re you all shouting about?”

 “Go away, Remus.”

 “Oh, but I just love showing up where I’m not invited.”

 Something heavy lands on the couch next to Logan. He does not look up from his water bottle, he does not open his eyes, his fingers do not stop tap, tap, tapping.

 “Remus, don’t do that, you almost landed right on…”

 Virgil’s voice trails off.

 “…Logan?”

 Tap, tap, tap. Tap, tap, tap.

 “Logan, are you okay?”

 Tap, tap, tap. Tap, tap, tap. Tap, tap, tap.

 “Fuck, guys, shut up.”

 “Virgil!”

 “Language, kiddo.”

 “No, really, guys, Logan’s not okay, be quiet.”

 Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.

 “But I think it’s interesting how—“

 “No, guys, really,” Virgil says again, his tempest tongue coming out a little, “shut up.”

 “Lolo?”

 Ah, that must be Remus. A soft voice beside him, blocking out the others into a distant murmur, a warm hand on his shoulder.

 “Lolo, can you hear me?”

 Tap, tap, tap. Tap, tap, tap.

 Remus curses. “I’m taking this.”

 “Rem—!”

 Logan doesn’t hear the rest of Patton’s cry as Remus grabs him by the shoulder and sinks out, into another living room, perhaps, judging by the fact that they land on a very similar couch.

 “It’s okay, Lolo,” Remus murmurs, rubbing gentle circles into his shoulder, “you’re okay, this won’t last forever. I already called for Jan-Jan.”

 Tap, tap, tap. Tap, tap, tap.

 “You’re doing great, just keep breathing, okay?”

 The water bottle cap smushes uncomfortably against Logan’s mouth, how long has he had it here?

 “You’re okay, Lolo, this won’t last forever, just stay with me.”

 The others aren’t here. No one is yelling. There will be no emotional spillover, everything will be okay. Everything is okay.

 Logan’s tapping grows less frantic, settling back into a smooth rhythm on the bottle.

 Tap, tap, tap. Tap, tap, tap.

 Remus’s hand never leaves his shoulder, still rubbing warm, patient circles.

 “They should’ve known better,” he mutters, mostly to himself, “fucking morons.”

 Something about Remus’s tone worms its way into Logan’s hands, gentling his fingers to a stop. He cups the smooth, cool metal of the water bottle and takes a deep breath. Remus stills.

 “…Lolo?”

 He blinks his eyes open.

 Well, he was correct. They are in the Dark Sides’s living room. He turns to look at Remus.

 “Be honest,” he says in a surprisingly even voice, “how red is my face right now?”

 Remus blinks. “Not one bit, actually.”

 “Well, that’s good.”

 “Yeah.” Remus looks down and gently tugs on the water bottle. “Can I have this?”

 “No, thank you.”

 “Okay. Can I hug you?”

 “Yes, why—oof!”

 To be honest, he probably should have expected to be all but tackled into the couch, considering that is the primary way Remus shows affection to Roman. Still, his back hits the sofa with a surprised gasp as Remus’s weight comes to rest on top of him.

 “A little warning next time would’ve been appreciated.”

 “Sorry.” Remus props himself up on his elbows. “Am I hurting you?”

 “I can’t imagine lying on top of a water bottle is very comfortable.”

 Remus lets him move it off his chest before flopping back down and snuggling closer.

 “You okay?”

 “I’m perfectly adequate.”

 “Not what I asked, Brainiac. You were stuck. And upset.”

 Logan quiets. Remus must be able to tell that he’s thinking; after a second, he turns and goes to pull away. The sudden absence of warm pressure above him hurts.

 “No—“ he catches onto Remus’s back— “stay?”

 “…Lolo,” Remus says quietly after a moment, “Lolo, move your arm a little.”

 “What? Why?”

 “Don’t want to hurt you when I lie back down, shift a bit.”

 Logan shifts, letting Remus settle back down on top of him and lift his arm over his shoulder. He rumbles, low in his chest, pressing Logan firmly against the couch.

 “Can we just…stay like this? For a bit?”

 “Sure, Lolo.”

 Remus is warm and solid, somehow radiating the energy that if anyone so much as tries to get near them right now he’ll gnaw their arm off. That’s not an empty threat. One of his hands flops off the couch, keeping his fingers just brushing the carpet. Logan takes a deep breath, feeling Remus move.

 Oh.

 Oh, dear.

 “What?”

 Did he say that out loud?

 “Yeah, you did.”

 “Hmm,” Logan mumbles, “well, that’s not ideal.”

 “Yeah, I gathered. But that’s kinda my thing so, spit it out, Lolo.”

 “I have come to the realization that I entered the stimming cycle while in my operative mode, which means that I cannot fully disengage from it until I know the problem is resolved.” Logan sighs. “Which I can’t do until I reestablish an emotional balance.”

 “Can you put that in layman’s terms?”

 He winces. “I don’t know if I can. My vocabulary tends to increase exponentially as my level of exhaustion climbs.”

 “Yeesh.” Remus sits up, sliding onto the floor and prompting an involuntary noise from Logan wondering where he’s going. “C’mere.”

 Remus hauls him into his lap. Logan’s a little too tall to fit his head under Remus’s chin, but Remus plants his face square in Logan’s collarbones and hangs on tight.

 “You’re gonna be fine, Lolo,” Remus says softly, “just…try and take a minute, yeah? Maybe you’ll be a little less exhausted.”

 “But I can’t, Remus,” he whispers, “I can’t—I can’t start calming down until the problem’s solved and I can’t solve the problem unless I—I—“

 “Ah, shh, shh,” Remus hushes, leaning back to place a finger against Logan’s mouth, “first off, you already explained it better than you did a moment ago, and second, the three of them actually are capable of solving their own problems.”

 He chuckles, clearly seeing the doubt expressed on Logan’s face.

 “I know it sounds impossible, but they have done it.”

 “Who has done what?”

 Logan whirls around to see Janus striding out of the shadows, nonchalantly tugging his gloves into place. Remus, of course, does not bother to keep them balanced and simply topples over, right on top of Logan.

 Janus raises an eyebrow at the display. “My, Remus, how graceful you’re getting to be.”

 “Thank you!”

 “That’s not—mm.” Janus rolls his eyes and looks at Logan. “Well, I must say, I certainly expected to see you here.”

 Logan’s fingers close absentmindedly around the water bottle. Janus’s gaze holds him tight.

 Tap, tap, tap.

 What—what’s happening? Janus won’t hurt him, Janus isn’t going to be angry at him—is he? Janus won’t have to go clean up his mess…right?

 “Remus, off.”

 “Hey, Lolo, it’s okay, you’re good, remember?”

 Logan blinks. Janus is crouched now, concern written plainly on his features. Remus’s hand is on his shoulder again, gently rubbing circles. His own hands tap gently on the surface of the water bottle.

 “My apologies.”

 “You’re good,” Remus says as Janus murmurs: “there’s no need for that, sweetie.”

 Logan sighs, stilling his hands and sitting up, letting Remus hook one leg around his back to pull him into his embrace. He leans his head into the middle of Logan’s back and hums.

 “Remus…rescued me,” he says eventually, “from the conversation going on with the others.”

 Janus makes a small ‘ah’ sound.

 “There were..heavy emotional investments coming from all sides,” Logan continues, “including making Virgil feel a little cornered.”

 “I’m sure that went well.”

 “It didn’t.” Logan shuts his eyes. “And now I am…I got stuck.”

 “With the water bottle?”

 He nods. “And I am currently unable to get…unstuck.”

 “Because your system still registers it as an incomplete task,” Janus murmurs, “and thus it won’t let you begin to decompress.”

 Logan nods.

 “Look at me, sweetie.”

 Janus smiles when he catches Logan’s gaze again. He holds out a hand. “Come here, let me help.”

 Logan goes to stand, only to be thwarted by Remus’s arms, still tightly around his waist.

 “No,” Remus mutters, muffled a little with his head in Logan’s back still, “my brain cell.”

 Janus frowns. “Remus…”

 “You wait your turn!”

 A giggle bubbles out of Logan’s throat. Janus narrows his eyes and his arms stretch, each curving around Logan’s sides to poke Remus.

 “Give. Me. My. Logan,” Janus says, punctuating each word with a poke. “My. Logan.”

 Remus squeaks, clutching Logan tightly, only making the giggles worse.

 “Give me my Logan,” Janus calls, still prodding Remus, “give him to me.”

 “Fine!”

 “There,” Janus coos, immediately taking advantage of the fact that all his arms are here and Logan is no longer being held to reel the logical Side in close, “that wasn’t so hard now was it?”

 The residual giggles don’t quite trail off as Janus pushes Logan’s glasses back up his nose and smiles.

 “Hi, sweetie.” His eyes widen when Logan can’t stop giggling. “I didn’t poke you now, little one, why’re you so giggly?”

 He shoots a mock scolding look over Logan’s shoulder.

 “You didn’t accidentally kidnap Patton, and not my Logan, did you?”

 “Nope, that’s the brainiac.”

 “Mm.”

 Why can’t he stop laughing? What’s happening? Why is—why is he stuck again?

 “Oh, oh, sweetie,” Janus’s voice comes from somewhere far away, “oh, little Logan, it’s alright, shh, shh, sweetie…”

 Why is Janus shushing him? He’s fine. Something swipes against his cheek.

 “Shh, shh, you come here, just come here for me, Logan, I’ve got you, you’re safe now…”

 Is he still laughing? His chest is still hitching and he can feel his diaphragm, so why does Janus sound so concerned?

 “It’s okay to cry, sweetie, it’s normal, from what it sounds like, you’ve been having a bit of a rough time.” Something against his cheek again. “Shh, shh, just come here…”

 Oh.

 Oh, he’s crying.

 Of course, as soon as he realizes that, he all but collapses into Janus’s chest and starts sobbing in earnest.

 “There, there, sweetie,” Janus coos instantly, cradling his limp form, “I’ve got you, you’re safe, little one, shh, shh, it’s alright.”

 Logan clutches as hard as he can to Janus’s cloak, fingers sliding off clumsily. Janus makes a noise and two hands come up to grip his, squeezing.

 “There you go, just focus on this for me, okay? Stay with me, Logan.”

 “What’s—what—wha’s happening?”

 “You’re crying, sweetie,” Janus says gently, “you’re overwhelmed and exhausted. Your system is trying to reset itself.”

 “But—but—it—but it hurts.”

 “Try not to fight it,” comes Remus’s voice from behind him, “let Janny hang onto you.”

 “That’s right.” Janus clutches him tighter. “You just stay right here, little Logan, in my arms, in my lap, let me look after you.”

 “‘M not little.”

 “You’re all little to me, sweetie.”

 Remus snorts. “Just because you’re a giant to everyone else aside from when Virgil gets tall doesn’t mean you have to be so snobby about it.”

 “On the contrary, it means I have the right to look down on you all.”

 Despite himself, Logan snorts. An interesting experience when combined with a sob, to be sure, but it happens. Janus chuckles, still hugging him tightly.

 “That’s it, sweetie, it’s alright. It seems like you’re coming to the end of it now, just a little longer, you’re doing wonderfully…”

 Logan takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly…slowly…there.

 “Sweetie?” A hand ruffles through his hair. “Sweetie, are you with me?”

 “Yes,” Logan mumbles, “yes, I’m—I’m here.”

 “Good.” Janus presses a kiss to his cheek. “That seemed like a lot, sweetie, are you alright?”

 “…hurts.”

 “What hurts, Logan, what can I do?”

 “Just…” he leans a little further into Janus’s embrace. “Stay?”

 Janus chuckles. “Of course, sweetie. Do you want to talk about it?”

 Logan shakes his head. “Ask—ask Remus.”

 “Remus?”

 As Remus explains what happened, Logan closes his eyes and does his very best to relax, more than sagging unconsciously into Janus’s arms. Everything is so…fuzzy, almost pixelated, as though he’s struggling to keep his focus here and now. He feels as though he’s fading in between…layers? Is that the right word? Layers of being stuck and unstuck, drifting without ever really making his home in one or the other. If he lets himself slip too much, he’ll get stuck in a loop of nothingness, unable to move or do anything. If he winds himself up too much or tries to focus too hard, he’ll get stuck in another stim cycle.

 Janus makes a soft noise and a hand scratches lightly through his hair.

 “I’m sorry, sweetie,” comes the voice in his ear, “that sounds awful.”

 “It’s not their fault.”

 “No, I know that, but still.” Janus kisses his forehead. “That doesn’t make it easier for you.”

 “And they should know better,” Remus growls, sending another jolt of warmth through Logan’s chest.

 “We can’t just forbid them from hurting Logan ever again.”

 “Why not?”

 “Because it’s terribly impractical, Remus, you know this.”

 Remus’s theatrical sigh almost makes him seem like Roman. The arms that attach themselves like limpets around his waist a moment later, though, are definitely Remus.

 “This okay?”

 “Mhmm.”

 “Good.” Remus’s head finds a home in between Logan’s shoulder blades. “We’re all just gonna sit here for a moment, okay?”

 “Okay.”

 Janus ruffles Remus’s hair and bends down to murmur in Logan’s ear.

 “Do you want to fall asleep here, sweetie?”

 That’s enough to rouse him. “No. If I do that, it will be…not good.”

 Janus nods. “Then let’s have you stay here for a little longer, then get you to your room for a shower and something to eat, hmm?”

 “Yes, please, thank you.”

 “Of course, sweetie.”

 Sure enough, a few minutes later, when Janus gently prompts him up, Logan wraps his arms around Remus in a tight hug with a whispered thank-you before Janus sinks him out to his room. He passes Logan a granola bar and watches as he eats, chases it down with a glass of water.

 “Would you like to be left alone for this?”

 Logan nods.

 “Alright.” Janus cups the back of his neck to bring their foreheads together, kissing his cheek one last time. “Take care of yourself, alright, sweetie?”

 “I will.”

 “Good.”

 Janus sinks out and Logan goes to take a shower. It’s only muscle memory that gets him out of his clothes, into the shower, out of the shower, and into something softer. His mind is still fuzzy, unsure of whether it’s going to stick or not, accompanied by a slowly growing grayness in his chest. It spikes the instant he shuts off the water, making him much, much colder than he expects, threatening a whine in the back of his throat. It disappears a moment later but it leaves him shaken.

 It’s only when he opens his bathroom door and Roman turns around that he realizes what must’ve happened.

 Roman smiles softly, his hand coming up to reach for him. Logan comes, letting him take his hand and pull him close.

 “Hey, there, Specs,” Roman murmurs, “you’re all clean now, hmm?”

 “Yes, I—you—why—how—“

 “Janus came to have a talk with me,” Roman says, cutting off the rest of his babbling, “even though most of it I already knew. I’m sorry I didn’t realize you getting stuck earlier, I know that can’t’ve been easy.”

 “…it wasn’t.”

 “I’m glad our snake took care of you.”

 “Remus helped too.”

 “And Remus,” Roman amends, still smiling as he tugs Logan closer, “but you’re still…?”

 Logan’s face falls; he can tell by the way Roman makes a soft noise and raises a hand to tuck his hair back.

 “Oh, sweetheart,” he murmurs, “may I take care of you?”

 “You don’t have to.”

 “I know, I know I don’t have to, but I want to.” Roman draws back a little to fix him with a look. “Because aside from your brain not knowing whether it’s going to get stuck again, I know two things are going on in there.”

 He softens a little.

 “Let me guess: part of you is trying to convince itself that either you are useless when it comes to emotions and thus we don’t need you, or that you don’t have emotions and therefore you shouldn’t be feeling like this.”

 Logan’s mouth drops open.

 “Am I right?”

 “You—how—“

 “Because I know you, my dearest darling nerd,” Roman murmurs, smiling, “and I know that you know both of those aren’t true, but perhaps you need a little reminder sometimes, hmm?”

 He steps a little closer.

 “Janus is very good at pulling you out of your head,” he continues, still trailing his fingers through Logan’s hair in a way that makes it very hard for Logan to disagree with him, “but he’s not very good at keeping you there, is he?”

 “He’s good to us,” Logan mumbles, because Janus is, and he’s not sure what he would’ve done if he hadn’t shown up.

 But at the same time…

 “Janus is always a good person to go to first,” Roman says, as if he can hear what’s going on in Logan’s head—which, can he? Because he was spot on a moment ago— “isn’t he?”

 Logan nods.

 “He’s better at the first part than me, you know I can’t stop myself from spoiling you.”

 Roman chuckles as Logan’s cheeks flush bright red.

 “But maybe you need to get spoiled right now,” he continues, getting close enough to brush his nose against Logan’s cheek, “hmm? Let me take care of you?”

 “R-Roman—“

 “I’m right here, sweetheart,” Roman soothes as Logan reaches for him, “I’m right here…”

 Roman lies them down, pulling the covers down to let Logan crawl into the bed first and tucking them both back in. He reaches up to carefully take hold of Logan’s glasses.

 “May I?”

 Logan nods. Roman slides them off carefully and folds them up, placing them on the table. Now everything really is fuzzy, Roman’s face staying out of focus until he leans back in, close enough to be clear.

 “Give me a second.” Logan blinks and Roman’s also wearing a soft T-shirt and pants, smiling down at him. “There. Now I can cuddle you and I won’t hurt you.”

 “You wouldn’t hurt me,” Logan mutters as Roman props himself up on his elbow, running his hand through Logan’s hair.

 “It’s never my intention, no.” He leans down to press a kiss to Logan’s forehead.

 “Roman…”

 “Yes, sweetheart, what is it?”

 Logan shakes his head. “Nothing, just…just…”

 “Just what?”

 “…saying your name.”

 Roman’s breath leaves him in a rush. “Oh, sweetheart, let me be soft with you, please, let me look after you…”

 “Yes.”

 Roman lies down, swinging his leg up and over one of Logan’s. He’s warm, so warm, as his weight settles firmly in place. Unlike Remus, who stayed still, just holding Logan there, Roman moves almost constantly. Trailing kisses across his forehead, his cheeks, down to the curve of his chin, hands reaching down to clasps his and draw them up, next to his head, murmuring gently about how much he loves getting to protect Logan like this, how lucky he is to have Logan here, how sweet and soft Logan is for him right now.

 “Oh, sweetheart,” he whispers as he comes back to Logan’s cheek, brushing away a stray tear, “it’s okay, Specs, you’ve been so strong today.”

 “But I didn’t do anything,” he argues, “I—I wasn’t helpful at all.”

 Roman leans up a little to look at him. “You made us stop and realize how stupid we were being. We got it sorted out in about five minutes after Remus took you.”

 “But that wasn’t me.”

 Roman smiles, leaning to rub their noses together. “You said it yourself, even when you’re not physically present, you’re still a part of the conversation.”

 Oh.

  Oh.

 “You did so good today, Logan,” Roman promises, kissing his cheek again, “now relax and let me spoil you.”

 “Roman…”

 “Mm,” comes the mumble from somewhere near his ear.

 “Roman…”

 He can almost feel the quirk of Roman’s mouth. “Just saying my name, sweetheart?”

 “Mhm.”

 “Well then,” Roman murmurs, “just lie there and fall asleep to me, okay? I’ve got you.”

 Logan shuts his eyes and lets Roman cuddle him, feeling the warmth reach into his chest and gentle the stickiness away. Although…

 If this is what getting stuck will get him sometimes, maybe it’s not always an annoying inconvenience.

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[yourwildsimp]

Journal

This did not at all go where I thought it would, but it’s here. This is my first X Reader I’ve done so if you have some input, it would be greatly appreciated-

includes: Levi, Y/N

warnings: Mentions of dark thoughts

length: 2,535 words

"Cadet!" 

You were quick to glance over your shoulder, wondering how you've messed up this time. You were just about to leave the mess hall, so you were probably going to be scolded for being the last one out, or for not eating again. Levi always snapped about how he needs you at your best.

"You forgot this," the captain said, his stoney blue eyes narrowing as yours widened, "Or did you leave it on purpose?"

It was your journal, the one you were always buried in whenever you could be. You did leave it on purpose, hoping someone would find it and save you from yourself. Hoping that someone would notice all of the changes in your behavior, hoping someone would hear your silent screams. Yet, seeing that it was Levi fucking Ackerman who returned the journal? You wished you had kept suffering alone.

"And it has so many…" Levi hesitated, almost like he was trying to find the right words to string together. "So many horrific thoughts written inside of it."

You could practically feel how serious he was while he gripped your prized possession just a bit tighter. You couldn't handle the growing silence, so you broke it.

"I should know. It's mine, after all." He didn't find your joke very funny. 

Levi opened his mouth, picking his next words carefully, "What's going on with you? You haven't been yourself recently."

You mentally swore, fingers twitching at your side. Levi didn't fail to notice, making his abnormal concern grow.

"What do you mean, Captain? I'm perfectly fine." As much as you wished the forced chuckle in your voice would change his way of thinking, it didn't.

"I'm more than certain something is happening with you," his voice grew more pointed as he stared at you, "There's no point in trying to hide it. Just spit it out."

"Why would you even bother asking?" Your muttered question left your lips before you could stop it.

"I want to know because I care about you. That's something a lot of people can't say, so don't go off wasting my support," Levi's tone didn't change and you sucked in a much needed breath. 

You wearily watched him place the journal on one of the long tables in the room, the soft thud reminding you of how many hours have gone into fruitless attempts of venting out your pain.

"Stop being stubborn and tell me what's going on, cadet." He inched closer, and you stepped back in response, eyes darting to the table.

"Once again, Jean and Eren left their spots disgusting. Do you want me to clean up, or would you rather chew them out yourself?" You gave a tight smile, forcing yourself to look back at him.

"Don't change the subject," he growled, a strange blaze flaring up in his eyes. Levi noticed how you tensed and he sighed to calm himself. "The things that you wrote in that book," he started, never once looking away from you, "Those were some seriously dark thoughts, and if you honestly do feel that way, you need to talk about it. So, stop trying to be the coldhearted badass and let me know what's running through your mind."

He sounded like a parent trying to convince a child to admit they broke something. It was a bit frightening in all honesty. 

You didn't say anything, teeth digging painfully into your tongue so you would keep quiet. You had just now noticed you'd been staring at the wooden floorboards this whole time, and yet you didn't stop.

Levi noticed that you weren't going to contribute, so he did it himself.

"What are you afraid of? Do you think I'm going to be mad at you?" 

You could've kicked yourself when your panicked chuckle wormed its way into the one-sided conversation. 

"Look at me," he demanded. You didn't listen, a thick gulp being your only reaction. "Cadet, look at me." This time it came out as a snarl, and you obeyed out of pure fear. 

Levi shut his eyes for just a moment, a heavy sigh leaving him as he tried to compose himself again. You both knew that he wasn't great with feelings, but he was trying. 

"I'm not mad at you. You can tell me whatever you're going through and I'll listen. Don't ever be afraid to let someone know how you feel, that is the only way someone can understand you." You had to clench your jaw to keep a snarky remark from making the situation worse. "Stop hiding from people, stop holding on to these emotions, and thinking that by some miracle things are going to work out by keeping silent. Things don't ever work out that way, and it only prolongs the pain. It only gives time for shit to get worse. So, stop being an idiot and just tell me what's going on already." 

"You sound like you're speaking from experience," you muttered after letting his words sink in. 

You didn't get a response, so you let your gaze lower, but not drop completely. Levi waited for you. The Levi Ackerman patiently waited for you to let go of some agony. So you did.

"Sometimes," it was difficult for you to refill your lungs with fresh air, "I get these recurring dreams that make me think about the things I'd kill to forget." A fly could be heard over your quiet voice, but you had spoken, and Levi found it a big step forward.

"I see," he spoke more to himself than anything. "So that's why…" 

His words trailed off as he remembered walking past the cadet sleeping quarters in the ungodly hours of the morning and often hearing whimpers of fear and sleepy pleads for directions on what to do. His eyebrows furrowed slightly.

"You've been having those, too, haven't you?" He paused, knowing damn well that the night terrors weren't anything but a small piece to the puzzle. But it was progress. "It's not uncommon. Everyone gets those nightmares."

You resisted the urge to insist that's the reason why your problems weren't such a big deal.

"Having thoughts about the people that you've lost, the people that you'd cared about," Levi tightened his jaw, taking a deep breath through his nose and not saying anything for a heartbeat. He changed his wording, "You're allowed to feel. You're allowed to grieve and to be angry, to be hurt." It was like he was reading from the list of your emotional insecurities.

It was starting to get painfully tense, so you attempted to redirect the topic of choice.

"That's funny, considering who's speaking. You only seem slightly agitated whenever you hear about the trouble Eren is constantly causing. I'm surprised you don't have grey's, old man," you laughed in spite of yourself, the noise tense and borderline frantic.

"Writing these thoughts in this book," of course he wouldn't budge. The man's like a stone wall, despite his height. "It's probably your way of coping with what’s happened to you." 

You swallowed, glancing away before sucking on your tongue to distract yourself.

"But, you have to be able to talk to someone as well, to be able to hear your problems leave you." Levi didn't say anything after that, quietly observing how you tilted your head up to stop your brimming tears from falling.

He surprised you by taking a seat on the table's bench, a good four or five feet from your journal. "Come here," he said gently, patting his legs, "You look like you need to be held. If you feel comfortable, that is." 

"On your lap?" You asked, chest tightening. You knew all it was going to take was one hug- just one god damned hug- and you'd crumble.

"Yes, on my lap. Come on," Levi couldn't care less about your height or weight, none of it bothering him in the slightest. 

You hesitated, the exit door seeming all too tempting. You didn't leave, though, and it wasn't because Levi would catch you if you were to run, nor that he would only confront you more forcefully in the future. You knew you needed this- that's the whole reason you had left your secrets behind. But, fuck, it was so hard to make yourself sit on his lap.

"There we go." His encouragement nearly ripped you to shreds.

"What are you? Santa Claus?" You mused, eyes burning holes into your lap with how determined you were to look anywhere but. 

"Go on, let it out," Levi pushed you to speak again, this time far more effective.

"Let what out exactly? My Christmas list?" Your voice cracked, heart painfully throbbing.

"Come on, cadet," Levi breathed again, sickeningly gentle eyes looking at you.

"I wish for a cup of hot chocolate with cookies on the side," you forced a twisted smile on your face as burning hot tears started to slip down your cheek. "Maybe at least one good night's rest. O-Or a chance to go back in time." 

You were breaking down, caving in on yourself as you choked on a sob.

"I've got you."

But you weren't alone. The captain was rubbing comforting shapes into your back.

You shook violently, tremors growing worse before you gave in completely. Harsh sobs thrashed your body as you buried your face into Levi's chest, letting every bit of your pain out.

"It's alright," Levi's voice warded off the ringing in your ears. "It's going to be okay. Do you hear me? You're going to be okay."

Promises of betterment and words of comfort soothed you as you soaked his uniform with tears. Tears that you've held in for far too long, tears that represented your suffering.

"You did all you could. Stop blaming yourself for whatever happened or you'll never be able to move forward. If all you keep doing is holding onto the past, you'll stay stuck in this shitty, painful cycle," Levi told you exactly what you needed to hear as he alternated between pats and rubs on your back. 

He took a deep breath, and you heard his heart rate kick up as your crying quieted, though you didn't- couldn't- stop.

"I had two friends who died on the same damn day. People I considered my family- gone, just like that. People I'd just met, people I had just been acquainted with that morning, died later that day, too," he shared his pain, opening castrated wounds all for you. "Sons, daughters, sisters, brothers, fathers, mothers," he listed, voice wavering before he righted himself, holding you closer. "Dead. Gone. And who was in charge? I was." You felt his chest steeply rise and fall as you sniffled. 

"There are things that you'll have to live with, situations you'll be placed in that you'll have to get through." His thumb and index finger captured your chin, forcing you to look at him. "I just want you to remember that you don't have to find a way on your own. You don't have to feel like you need to take all the burden, all the pain, by yourself." 

The hand that was on your back navigated to the Scouts emblem on your jacket, gently thumbing at it. 

"That's why you have us," there was a smile dancing in his voice, though it never quite reached his face. "We can support each other." 

Your tears had calmed down to a few rogue leftovers, and you found yourself ready to slip off of his lap. Levi didn't seem to mind the massive wet stain that bled through his white button-up and onto his peck. Didn't seem to on the outside, but you knew he was a cleaning fanatic.

"My office, my doors, are always open," his tone turned sarcastically bitter, "Unless I have paperwork to fill in, or I'm cleaning up Jaeger's damn mess." He relished the small giggle that left your lips. "If neither of the two are happening, you can always come to me."

He narrowed his eyes at you, lightly flicking your forehead.

"You hear me? Always, cadet." He gently smiled at you. "Not only are my doors open, but my arms are open, too." 

You glanced away to hide the sparkle in your eyes. Your attention returned to the captain, however, when a warm hand found itself on your shoulder.

"I know that feeling of thinking everything is your fault," he swallowed, casting his gaze down before looking back at you. "That feeling of being disappointed in yourself, down in the gutter, beating yourself up and wishing that it was you instead." There was a solemn look in his eyes before he spoke again, "I know that feeling, and I know how it eats you alive." 

Levi pulled you in for another hug, resting his chin on your shoulder as he shuddered in another breath. 

"I also know the feeling of being comforted. Of being reminded that there is a tomorrow, and that things can get better." He gave you a small squeeze before pulling away, both hands on your shoulders now. "That if you make it past today, you can make it past tomorrow, too." 

He allowed you to sit back, and the words he spoke were more than welcomed.

"After everything that you've been through, there is no storm that comes your way that you're not strong enough to face," the proud gleam in his eyes spoke volumes. "And, if you feel like you can't handle it alone, you can face it with me by your side. I'll always be here to brace the storm with you."

Nothing could prepare you for what he said next.

"That is a promise, cadet."

Levi never made promises- not like this. The only thing he's ever promised was to dropkick Eren if he ever went so long without showering again.

"Now breathe," his voice reverted back to that gentle, but commanding tone. He took a deep breath with you, in and out before staring you dead in the eyes. "Everything is going to be okay. It might not be perfect, but we will make it through this. Every battle has an end. Don't go giving up until you find your ending." You felt the grip on your shoulder tighten, his Adam's apple bobbing as he continued, "Please... Hold on for me." 

That left you picking your jaw off the floor before Levi mentioned it, not able to do anything but nod. You, a cadet, had gotten him to say please.

"There is so much to live for in this life," he noticed your doubt before you even said a word. "Let's start living for the people who don't get to, who don't have a choice."

A comforting silence settled into the atmosphere. Levi smiled before standing, mentally double-checking if you were okay. "Oh, and one more thing?" You perked up when he spoke.

"I'll break your fucking legs if you talk about me being soft, cadet."

Ah. There was the Levi you knew.

"Wouldn't dream of it, captain," you said gently, proudly saluting him as he walked towards the back exit.

You would never know, but an extremely proud smile graced his features as he watched you hesitate before throwing the journal away.

[screechthemighty]

Resident Evil Brain is still going brrrr, so here’s a new short fic! I actually came up with the idea for it ages ago, but finishing up everything stays gave me some breathing room to finish it off. You can read the full story below, but I’ll also post it to AO3 (same user name as here) and include a link to that in the reblogs!

If it were up to him, he wouldn’t have slept. He would have powered through, gone after the next Lord. Stopping to eat was one thing; stopping to sleep felt wrong. Almost like he was giving up, or wasting valuable time that could be the difference between life and death for his daughter.

But Ethan had nearly tripped while catching a chicken to eat, and deep down he knew he'd just get himself killed if he didn't rest at least a little. He wasn't expecting that somewhere to be the back of the Duke's wagon, but the man had offered, and Ethan was too tired to complain. He kept the two flasks he'd managed to gather close to his chest as he curled up in his corner. "It's gonna be okay," Ethan whispered. He wasn't sure if Rose could hear him; the Duke had said her essence was intact, whatever the hell that meant, so maybe. It couldn't hurt to try. "I'm coming for you, honey. I promise."

He just needed enough of a nap that his limbs would stop feeling so heavy. Ethan's eyes drifted shut. He thought between the stinging pain in his hand and the memories of that awful house with all the dolls, sleep wouldn't come easy, but he dozed off pretty quickly.

He woke up to a feeling of dread seizing his body.

At first, he thought he’d had a nightmare, but...no, it was deeper than that. Maybe it was his paranoia, but something wasn’t right. Ethan carefully moved off the cot and crept towards the front of the cart. He could just see the Duke’s shoulder, and past it...

Black robes, the flutter of feathers, no, no, she couldn’t be here, not now.

The other man glanced over his shoulder, pressing a single finger to his lips. That was the only thing that kept Ethan from panicking. He thought about making a run for Rose, but that would mean making noise. It was a miracle that Miranda hadn’t heard him move the first time.

How hadn’t she noticed them? The Duke wasn’t exactly subtle. Ethan kept bracing himself for her to turn her head, try to talk to the Duke, maybe even try to hurt him. She did look their way at one point, causing Ethan to duck back behind cover, teeth clenched, trying to steady his breathing. But when he looked again, she just moved on. As if there were nothing out of the ordinary about the Duke being there.

No. As if she hadn’t seen them at all.

Ethan stayed frozen in place until Miranda was out of sight. Even then, he kept his voice down to a whisper: “Is she...?”

“She won’t be a problem,” said the Duke. Ethan was taken aback by the other man’s tone—not quite aggressive, but definitely hostile. “Not for now, at least.” And then, just as swiftly... “It’s good that you’re awake! I’ve just finished preparing lunch.”

That tone was gone.

The smell of food was the only thing that got Ethan to leave the cart; even then, he made sure everything was packed away and secure before he did. He wanted to be ready if he had to run. The Duke didn’t seem worried, though. He just served up the dish (Ethan had already forgotten what it was called, but fuck it smelled good) and started eating his own portion as if nothing were wrong. As if he hadn’t just had the one and only major change in his mood that Ethan had seen in the time they’d known each other. It wasn’t that long in the grand scheme of things, but when the guy had been so consistent up until then, it was noteworthy. Weird, even.

Why are you doing all of this?

Why, it’s all part of our first class customer service.

Or maybe it was personal.

Ethan sneaked a few glances at the Duke as he ate. The man seemed genuinely unbothered, but maybe he was just good at hiding whatever that venom had been. “How didn’t she see us?” Ethan asked. It felt almost rude to ask, but if he was throwing in his lot with this guy, he felt like he had a right to know. “She wasn’t too far away.”

“I’ve been in this village longer than she has,” said the Duke. “It seems to agree with me more than it does her.” He noticed Ethan’s immediate frown. “What’s the longest you’ve ever lived somewhere, Ethan?”

“The same...place? I mean, I was in Dallas for a while. Not the same house the whole time, but...probably Dallas?”

“Well, after a while, wouldn’t you say that you get a feeling for a place’s...essence? How it moves, how it breathes? You could navigate it more quickly than a person who hadn’t been there as long, could you not? Stay hidden in places and ways they wouldn’t know about?”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. “...we’re right out in the open, there’s nothing...” Ethan sighed. “You know what, never mind. This is sounding like a conversation I should be drunk for.”

The Duke laughed. It didn’t sound mocking, at least. “Well, if you find anything left to drink in this place, bring it back with you. We can split the bottle.”

“Maybe. Once this is over.” And as long as it wasn’t from Dimitrescu’s winery. That stuff definitely wasn’t just fermented grapes.

Ethan kept eating, trying to focus on the food and not on the questions still nagging at his mind. Nothing about this place made sense, and the Duke was high up there on that list. Even if Ethan was choosing to trust him for now...

No, I have to knw.

“So...you know Miranda? Maybe not personally, but...” Ethan glanced up at the Duke, carefully studying his nearly unreadable face. “...I take it you don’t like her very much?”

The Duke hesitated. Even though his face stayed impassive, that alone was enough to catch Ethan’s attention. He wasn’t usually so slow to answer. “I am not one of her devotees, no,” the Duke said. “Which means I can clearly see she is the root of much suffering in this place.”

“The Lords? All those monsters?”

“In more ways than you realize. They were people once, you know. They might be monstrous now, but they are monsters of her making.”

Ethan understood what the Duke meant. He thought about the Bakers. The madman that had cut off his leg versus the man with kind eyes who’d begged him to save his family. The shrieking banshee with her bugs versus a woman who could’ve been his own grandmother. He wasn’t sure if Eveline had ever been anything but cruel, but even if she hadn’t, she wouldn’t have existed if it hadn’t been for someone else’s greed. Even the molded had been people once. Ethan didn’t regret defending himself and Mia, never would, and he’d keep defending himself here as long as these people kept screwing with him. But...

How different might things had been if someone somewhere down the line just hadn’t screwed with everyone? Just left the Lords, whoever they had been once, and the villagers in peace?

“Yeah,” Ethan said quietly. He took his last few bites of the food. “Fuck that crazy bitch, huh?”

The Duke laughed boisterously. "I'll certainly eat to that."

Ethan didn't entirely relax. He wasn't sure he was capable of that. But he was able to relax a little. Even if he didn't know how, it seemed like the Duke's little setup was a safe place.

There weren't too many of those in this place.

---

Knowing what to say and when best to say it was one of the most important parts of customer service. It was the only thing that kept the Duke from saying more to Ethan Winters. The poor man had enough on his plate, much he had to grapple with, most of it beyond the scope of his understanding. Further truth might not break him, but it would cause him unnecessary stress.

There was much the Duke would have told him if it weren’t for that concern. What centuries felt like. How this little village had changed, people coming and going, living and dying. How many had tried to seize the power the mountains held. None had truly succeeded before Miranda, the self-proclaimed mother of this place.

The Duke may have long forgotten the face of his own mother, but he remembered enough to know what maternal love felt like. Whatever Miranda had to offer was not that love. Just a twisted perversion of it, as the Lords were twisted perversions of children. She was an infection in these lands, but unfortunately, one he could do nothing about. The Duke had a great many tricks up his sleeve, but he was only a seller of arms. He had never learned to use them himself. He had always been keen to supply those who might oppose Miranda, but none had succeeded yet.

Out of all of them, he felt that Ethan Winters had the best chance of succeeding.

It wasn’t just the man’s biology, though that was clearly giving him an edge. It was something else: the spark the Duke had in his eyes from the first second they met. Determination. Rage. The kind of drive that couldn’t be found in any mold or virus in the world.

And what better to defeat a perversion of parental love than its true counterpart?

Ethan kept his bag clutched close to his chest as he ate, the bag that contained two parts of his daughter. The Duke had heard him whispering to the flasks before he fell asleep, trying to soothe and reassure the child. Even now, as he paused in eating, Ethan hummed quietly. A jaunty tune, one that the Duke didn’t recognize. “A favorite song of hers?” he asked.

Ethan glanced up. “Oh, uh. Yeah. ‘Doctor Worm.’ Never too early to get started on good music.” He held the bag a little closer before finishing off his meal. “Thanks. For the food. And for...” He gestured. “Whatever it was you did back there. If you did anything.”

His tone cemented the Duke’s decision to keep some things from Ethan. He sounded exasperated by even a simple cloaking technique. The Duke’s true age would only elicit a similar response.

Maybe if Ethan survived this, when he had less on his mind, the Duke could tell him everything. His full, dark history with Miranda. The full scope of the horrors he’d seen. The horrors that Ethan would have put a stop to. But for now, the Duke took Ethan’s plate with a smile. “Do keep an eye out for more meat as you go,” he said. “It would be an honor to have dinner with you.”

“Yeah,” Ethan said in a quiet huff. “Assuming I make it that long.”

That was always a risk, of course. That Ethan wouldn’t make it. But despite knowing that...

“After what you’ve done, Mr. Winters? I think you’re more than equipped to handle what’s to come.”

And he meant that. He truly did. Even if it was to be the death of Ethan Winters...the Duke had a feeling it would be the death of Mother Miranda as well.

He just hoped he would be able to explain exactly how truly important that was.

[witcher-and-his-bard-archive]

Always a Place For You

also on ao3 

fair warning, this one is long

Initially, when they run into another Witcher on the road, Jaskier is thrilled. He’s been dying to hear more about Geralt’s adventures and hopes that having a familiar companion will make him more amenable to it. And maybe cheer him up a little. It's been a slow couple of weeks and while they've adjusted to it - and have certainly had worse periods - Geralt has been a little low lately. So when the other man walks toward them, arms stretched and a goat at his side, Jaskier is delighted.

His name is Eskel and he seems equally as enthusiastic to meet Jaskier as Jaskier is to meet him. Geralt makes a muttered comment about how it’s only because of the song and Eskel elbows him. Jaskier loves him immediately.

"Maybe I could write you your own song," he suggests and behind him, he can hear Geralt's snort of derision.

But it's fine. Geralt's never really grumpy with him about flirting - even, he suspects, with other Witchers - and how else is Jaskier supposed to learn about them? Every piece of Witcher knowledge he has, unless gleaned from his years with Geralt, is tainted with bias and fear, and he would very much like to know the truth.

Eskel is, in fact, far more forthcoming than Geralt ever has been, though this is likely a side-effect of Jaskier being Geralt's companion. He can't imagine Eskel would be so willing otherwise. And he can understand that, having overstepped with the wrong person and wound up in trouble more than his share of times.

The pair of them chat as they make their way along the road, heading toward Eskel’s camp. It’s not until they arrive that Jaskier realizes how quiet Geralt has been the whole time. It’s not as though he’s the chattiest person he's ever known, but Geralt has been talking very little today - even for him - and when Jaskier starts asking questions about their childhood, he shuts up entirely.

At the edge of Eskel’s camp, Geralt tethers Roach next to a black stallion who seems none too impressed with the company, then quietly comes to sit with them. He sits on Eskel's other side, staring intently into the fire and continuing to add nothing to the conversation. A couple of times, Eskel starts to say something, but a single look from Geralt is all it takes for him to switch tracks.

Eskel stays with them and Jaskier does his best to take a step back and not focus too hard on every interaction between the two Witchers. They spend a couple of days camping out before the weather turns wet and miserable and Geralt directs them toward town. Jaskier knows it's for his benefit mostly and he feels guilty for them having to change course, but Geralt won't take no for an answer. It's out of the way - they'd been heading toward Rinde and a sizable reward for killing a pack of ghouls - but it's the closest town to them, even if it's barely large enough to have an inn. But it does and once the horses and goat are housed for the night, that's where they head.

"We need a room for the night," Geralt says and Jaskier interjects with a hurried, "two rooms." Geralt turns to him with a confused frown, but Eskel lays a hand on Geralt's shoulder and he relents.

Jaskier tries not to think too much about what that means or why Geralt relents so quickly, but he fails. As he makes his way up to his own room, all he can think of is the way Eskel's fingers pressed into Geralt's shoulder, squeezing gently in a way that, apparently, was enough to reassure Geralt. He wants to be able to offer that kind of reassurance, for Geralt to feel that calm in his presence.

He's unpacking his things, hanging those that got wet to dry, when there's a knock on the door. Jaskier doesn't even have a chance to cross the room before the door opens and Geralt strolls into the room like it's his own.

"What's wrong?" he asks, which Jaskier supposes is polite, but he's so blunt about it that he almost sounds angry.

"Nothing," Jaskier offers, turning away to finish emptying the contents of his pack.

"Jaskier, you've barely said a word all day.”

“I composed an entire song before we reached the city walls."

"But you haven't spoken to anyone but yourself."

Jaskier opens his mouth to mention talking to the stable hand, but the look on Geralt's face tells him that won't go over well. Not that he understands why Geralt is so concerned about his silence, all of a sudden. There have been days when he's all but prayed for Jaskier to shut up. He should be happy about it.

"I'm just... not feeling well," he says, realizing the fault in his lie before he even finishes speaking it. Geralt's eyebrows knit together and he gives Jaskier a quick once-over before evidently deciding he's fine.

"You're lying to me. Jaskier you never lie to me. Why?"

"You can tell when I'm lying?"

"You smell like deceit, don't change the subject."

Jaskier doesn't know what to say because he certainly can't tell the truth. He goes with the one thing he knows Geralt won't want to talk about any further.

"I had a lover here once," he says quickly, "she dropped me quite quickly when she found out about my other lovers. I was quite hoping not to have to come back, but here we are."

It's close enough to the truth, and something realistic enough that Geralt should believe it. And he does, though he doesn't seem happy about it. He stiffens and Jaskier just sighs softly as Geralt turns back toward the door and leaves him alone again.

For four more days, Eskel travels with them. He leaves on the fifth morning, and watching him go is bittersweet, the weight of some unnamed pain sitting heavily on Jaskier's heart. Geralt shows no sign of sadness or regret, but Jaskier can feel something different about him as they turn and head in the opposite direction.

If Jaskier thought things would go back to the way before, he's sadly mistaken. And it's his own fault, really. Geralt, shockingly, returns to normal fairly quickly, falling back into their old routines, but Jaskier can't stop thinking about him and Eskel. When they're alone at night, he pretends not to be cold because he can't bear the thought of Geralt's arms around him if he's thinking of someone else.

But things do eventually get back to something like normal, aided by Geralt's silent persistence. For the first time in their relationship, Geralt is the one pushing boundaries, encouraging Jaskier to do things he doesn't necessarily want to do. But even when Geralt has wormed his way back to his proper place in Jaskier's life, Jaskier can't stop thinking about him with Eskel. So he flirts less - at least with Geralt - and he distances himself a little bit at a time because he wants Geralt to be happy.

They're up north when the weather starts to cool and out of the blue, Geralt broaches the subject of Kaer Morhen. Jaskier's sitting next to the fire, his lute case open next to him but untouched and he's prodding at the coals with a stick. Geralt comes and plops down next to him, staring directly ahead and not meeting Jaskier's eyes.

"I wonder if you would come to Kaer Morhen with me this winter." It's not a question, not really, and from Geralt's perspective, things have been good - exceptionally good - so he probably isn't expecting Jaskier to turn him down flat.

"No," Jaskier says and the look on Geralt's face tells him he's surprised about it. "I'm going to Oxenfurt."

"You'll freeze before you get there." Geralt says and he sounds a little irritated about it, so Jaskier smiles to ease the awkwardness.

"Well then," he says, "you had better come along and keep me warm."

It's supposed to be a joke, but Geralt agrees easily and Jaskier’s chest tightens. The night that follows is cold and Geralt is more distant than he has been, but he curls up around Jaskier next to the fire and pulls the extra blanket over them both.

For a little while, Jaskier almost thinks things could be okay again, but he's never felt so unsure of himself in his life. He wants Geralt, but he also wants him to be happy and there doesn't seem to be a way to have both - not if Geralt loves Eskel.

A couple of nights out, they're camped on the edge of a lake and Jaskier is struggling to get the fire lit. His fingers are so cold he fumbles with the flint and drops it into the placed sticks carefully. Geralt isn't around to help, having gone off to find something for them to eat, but Jaskier does eventually get the fire lit, wrapping a blanket around his shoulders as he sits next to it, waiting for Geralt to return.

When he doesn't, Jaskier gets worried and hauls himself to his feet. He can't see much in the dark, his eyes having adjusted to the light of the fire, so he heads off in the direction Geralt left. It doesn't take long to figure out where he went; barely two minutes from camp, Jaskier hears the sounds of a fight and hurries toward it.

Geralt has his sword drawn, surrounded on all sides by a pack of drowners. Without thinking, Jaskier rushes into the fold, tugging the dagger from his boot, and launches himself at the closest creature. He gets his blade lodged in its neck, but it stumbles as it collapses, dislodging Jaskier from its back and as he bumps into another and finds himself thrown sideways into the lake.

He's underwater before he realizes what's happening and the icy water bites into his skin. He struggles against the weight of his own body, kicking his legs and searching for anything to push off of. He's not even sure which way is up, at this point and he knows Geralt is too busy to come after him; this time, he's going to have to save himself.

But he can't. He's already losing feeling in his limbs and even with his eyes open and stinging, he can't see anything in the dark, so all he can do is kick his legs and hope for the best. And then, as if like a beacon, an arm thrusts down toward him, scrabbling around until a hand curls around his collar and hauls him upward. Jaskier is helpless as he's hauled up onto the bank and he gasps to catch his breath as warm hands, slowly cooling against his skin, grab at him.

He's tugged up into strong arms and his mind is still struggling to catch up as Geralt lifts him into his arms and starts back toward camp. Jaskier wraps his arms around his neck and rests his chin on his shoulder, he looks back behind them. The entire horde of drowners is dead on the ground, the grass dark with their blood. Jaskier shudders at the sight and Geralt holds him closer, mistaking his shock for cold.

As soon as they're back at the fire, Geralt drops to his knees next to it, shifting to cross his legs and pull Jaskier into his lap. He has both their blankets and the one Jaskier was wearing and he pulls them around him now.

"Take off your clothes," he says and Jaskier stops, his head jerking up to meet his eyes.

"I-" he starts and finds he can't form the words.

“Jaskier, your clothes.”

“But I thought- Eskel, he won't mind?"

"Jaskier, you're going to freeze to death if you don't get out of your clothes, no one is going to mind." Jaskier hesitates just for a moment and Geralt sighs in frustration, reaching for his shirt himself. Geralt gets Jaskier out of his doublet before Jaskier's mind catches up and he fumbles with his shirt.

"I've got it," Geralt says softly, and Jaskier ducks his head. He still hasn't quite managed to catch up to the severity of the situation and he shifts awkwardly as Geralt lifts his shirt up.

"Geralt you shouldn't- I can do it. I don't want things to be complicated because of me, I- I know you and Eskel- and I want you to be happy so I can do it myself." He doesn't look up until he's finished speaking and realizes Geralt hasn't moved. He's frozen in place, his hands wrapped around the hem of Jaskier's shirt. As soon as Jaskier lifts his eyes, Geralt's snap up to meet them.

"That's what's been bothering you? Jaskier, that was months ago." He curses softly under his breath and tugs Jaskier's shirt up over his head. He quickly rids him of the rest of his clothes and bundles Jaskier up against his chest.

They sit together in silence and Jaskier leans further into him than he should, soaking up Geralt's body heat. He shuts his eyes, pressing his face into Geralt's neck and a warm hand slides up his chest, wrapping him tight. It's a little weird being fully naked out in the middle of nowhere and pressed up against Geralt, but he likes the warmth of him against his back.

"Eskel and I," Geralt says suddenly, "it's not what you think."

"Dunno what else it could be," Jaskier mumbles, "you with your head between his legs and all. Though that explains why you were so weird about me meeting him." Geralt's hand makes its way up to his head, sliding into his hair.

"I didn't want to tell you," he admits and Jaskier huffs against him. "Jaskier," Geralt says softly, "I didn't want it to change things. Obviously, it did."

"How long?" Jaskier asks, though he's not totally sure he wants to know.

"Always." Geralt leans his head against Jaskier's, looking out into the fire. "We were kids the first time, cold and alone in that huge keep with no one but each other. It started as a distraction and just grew into something... else."

It feels like all the breath has been sucked from his lungs and Jaskier pulls in a shuddering breath. He had hoped that it was just a relationship born out of necessity, but that's not what it sounds like.

"You're upset," Geralt realizes, but Jaskier shakes his head.

"Just cold."

"And lying." Jaskier says nothing and Geralt tips his head forward, pressing against the back of Jaskier's head. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want to upset you, I want you to be happy."

After a moment of silence, Geralt sighs. "You know I care for you, Jaskier." Jaskier's heart does a weird little flip that he can't quite describe, but it doesn't feel good.

"No, actually. You do quite a good job of pretending you don't." He's feeling raw and he wants to pull away, but his hair is still dripping and there's a real chance that he could actually die if he slept out in the cold tonight.

"Jaskier..." Geralt breathes, dropping his chin so his nose bumps against Jaskier's ear. "There's no need to be jealous of Eskel. No one could ever replace you."

Jaskier hates being placated and he squirms in Geralt's arms, turning to frown at him. But Geralt's expression is soft and he almost looks like he's smiling. Jaskier's frown deepens, but Geralt holds him closer, looking at him silently for a moment before leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to Jaskier's temple.

Jaskier freezes as soon as Geralt moves and Geralt doesn't draw back, not entirely. He presses back in, keeping his eyes on Jaskier's, and when their noses bump against each other, Jaskier inhales slowly. He tips his head, pressing forward again and Geralt meets him halfway.

Geralt's mouth is hot against his own and he turns Jaskier in his lap, pulling him as close as he can without letting the blankets slip away. And it takes him a minute to realize Geralt isn't going to pull away, but when he's sure, Jaskier slips his arms around his neck, risking the frigid night air to wrap himself around Geralt.

He's not sure how long they stay wrapped around each other by the fire, but at some point Jaskier drifts off, his face pressed into Geralt's neck.

They change course in the morning, turning back toward the mountains.

The following morning is frosty and Jaskier dresses as quickly as he can to avoid any more loss of heat. When he's fully clothed, he works on getting his own things together, but Geralt comes over with a large swatch of fabric draped over his arm. As he gets closer, Jaskier realizes it's his cloak but he doesn't have a chance to ask what he's doing before Geralt is wrapping it around him, fastening it around his neck.

"It'll keep you warm," he says, fastening the clasp and Jaskier's heart is beating so loudly he can barely think over it. He suspects Geralt can hear it as well and that's what the little lopsided smile is for. He presses a hand to Jaskier's shoulder and pauses for a moment before sliding the same hand up to the side of his neck and drawing him closer.

"I'm sorry you were miserable for so long, I should have realized."

"No," Jaskier insists, but Geralt is already leaning in for a kiss and Jaskier shuts his eyes. For once, he's happy to leave something in the past.

"Will it be okay?" he asks as Geralt breaks away. He's still only a breath away and Jaskier flicks his eyes up to him. "Me coming to Kaer Morhen with you, I mean."

"If you're worried about Eskel, don't be. He knows."

"What?"

"He knew before I did," Geralt grins, stroking his thumb across Jaskier's cheek before turning and returning to his task. Jaskier is left speechless again and desperately wanting to know how he came up when talking to Eskel. Maybe if things go as well as Geralt says, he can ask Eskel himself.

They're a week out from the mountain pass that Geralt keeps talking about and Jaskier can't help but wonder if he was always expecting to take him to Kaer Morhen. He certainly wasn't expecting to be told no. But none of that matters now, especially not with Jaskier in the saddle and Geralt pressed as close behind him as he can be, one arm wrapped protectively around his middle.

The cloak is sufficiently warm, but he likes when Geralt touches him and his hood keeps blowing off anyway. Despite the cold wind, Jaskier likes it because Geralt will lean in and kiss his head and press his nose into his hair. Out in the wild, Geralt is careless with his affection, has been even before Jaskier realized what it was, and he can't blame him. If Geralt has been holding everything in for even half the time he has, it can't have been easy, even for a Witcher.

But Geralt likes to touch, likes to get his hands on whatever part of Jaskier he can reach and at times it proves to be frustrating. During the day, Jaskier lets him keep an arm around him and nothing more. He'd already learned the hard way that anything more than that affects him more than it should. Too many nights alone and too long on the road doesn't lead to anything good. And he's wanted for so long that his body overreacts to even the slightest touch. And the worst part is that Geralt seems amused by it, the bastard.

It's not until evening on the fifth night that Jaskier says something about it. They're sitting on the ground next to the fire and Jaskier is in Geralt's lap, watching the flames die down. Geralt has his hands on Jaskier's hips, slowly sliding down his thighs and back up again. His nose is pressed against the back of his ear and Jaskier decides there's nothing wrong with it tonight; it's just the two of them and nothing around for miles, so what does it matter?

Only tonight Geralt doesn't stop with soft, innocent touches. He slips his hands between Jaskier's thighs, fingers sliding easily over the smooth fabric and Jaskier lets out a little gasp when he slips higher than before. His cock twitches in his trousers and he tries to stifle a groan, but it doesn't work. Geralt presses forward, letting his lips brush the curve of Jaskier's ear.

"Jask," he breathes, "we can't do this here." Jaskier groans and arches his back against him.

"Why not? You’re the one who started it."

"You'll freeze."

"You can keep me warm," Jaskier hums, already pressing up into the touch.

He turns his head to kiss Geralt's mouth and Geralt hums against him, still doubtful even as his fingers slide over his crotch. Strong fingers curve around him, stroking him quickly to full hardness and Jaskier whimpers as he bucks up into Geralt's palm. It's a tease and nothing more, but when he pushes back between Geralt's legs, it doesn't feel like he needs any encouragement.

In fact, he doesn't even have to say anything more before Geralt's fingers are tugging his trousers open. Jaskier gasps as the cold air hits his skin, but Geralt's hand is hot and quick to wrap around him, stroking slowly down to the base and squeezing his way back up. He's smooth and precise, his motions speaking to years of practice - a thought which makes Jaskier's skin prickle and his heart beat faster.

"Touch me how you like it," he whispers and he can feel Geralt's breath stutter against his skin.

"Okay," he breathes and his fingers spread along the underside of Jaskier's cock, his thumb and forefinger circling the head.

Geralt continues, his speed increasing just slightly as he works over Jaskier's cock. Jaskier whines, panting against Geralt's neck. The thought that this is how Geralt touches himself is overwhelming and he kisses his neck, running his tongue along the underside of his jaw.

Already, Jaskier's getting close. He's denied himself too long and he's wanted this for so much longer than that. Geralt's hand is hot and quick and Jaskier breathes in his scent, shutting his eyes against the pulsing need of his cock. His hips jerk forward unbidden and he mumbles into Geralt's skin.

Geralt's palm slips up his chest and neck, turning Jaskier's head so he can kiss him properly and then he's pulling off of Jaskier's cock and lifting him in his lap. He turns him around so Jaskier's straddling his thighs and before Jaskier can even adjust to the new position, Geralt is fumbling with his own trousers.

He strokes himself quickly, tugging Jaskier against him and his hand closes around both of them, holding as tight as he can as he thrusts up against Jaskier's cock.

"Oh. Gods, Geralt, yes." Jaskier snaps his hips in quick sharp bursts, pressing himself as close against Geralt's cock as he can. Geralt's hand slips from their cocks, both arms curling around his waist and he ruts against Jaskier rolling his hips in short, sharp thrusts.

"Fuck, Jask," he huffs. His hands slip down, fingers pressing into Jaskier's ass and forcing the roll of his hips. Geralt's strong and enthusiastic and Jaskier shudders and groans as his own arousal burns through him.

He pushes up against him, so hard it's almost uncomfortable, but this position and their location aren't exactly conducive to comfort, not that Jaskier cares. Or Geralt, by the way his hand slips up, tangling itself in Jaskier's hair and tugging gently. Jaskier lifts his head obediently and as Geralt's eyes meet his, he feels his body release and before he can even warn Geralt, he's coming hard, spilling between them.

His hips stutter and his thighs shake and Geralt holds him, grunting softly in his ear as he continues the increasingly uneven roll of his hips. Jaskier's body feels heavy where it's sprawled over Geralt's chest, but his head is floating, empty and airy, the only thing still tying him to reality is Geralt's body wrapped around him. Geralt's cock digs into his hip and Jaskier's body shudders above him.

It's too much, but it's so good and Jaskier just goes limp, pressing his mouth against Geralt's neck and kissing him lazily. Geralt mumbles against him, breathing his praise into Jaskier's shoulder and he's never been so talkative. Jaskier can only hope he's always like this when he gets off.

When Geralt comes, it's with a low, rumbling growl that could almost get Jaskier hard again. His arms slip a little but stay firmly wrapped around him, and when he nudges Jaskier's cheek with his nose, Jaskier tips his head, meeting his mouth in a soft kiss.

"You're incredible, darling."

Geralt huffs his amusement and tips his head back to kiss Jaskier's forehead. He doesn't speak, and Jaskier shuts his eyes, listening to Geralt's heartbeat as it gradually slows to normal. He's not sure what the rest of the winter has in store for them, but he's thankful for this one moment alone, even rushed and cold in the forest.

After a little while, he peels himself from Geralt with a significant amount of effort and flops onto his back, staring up into the dark sky. Next to him, Geralt sits up, smiles down at him softly.

"We have to get cleaned up," he says lightly, "get changed before we sleep. We'll have washing to do when we get to the keep."

Jaskier groans dramatically, but he pushes himself up and leans in to kiss Geralt. He strips and changes his clothes as quickly as he can, careful not to take too much off at once because now that his mind is clear again, the air is bitterly cold.

When he's dressed again and wrapped in a blanket, he lays down on his bedroll, watching as Geralt goes through the same motions, changing out of his soiled clothing. It was rough and it was messy and Jaskier wouldn't change it for anything. He pulls Geralt close to him, breathing softly against his ear. In the morning, they have to get up and go, but for now, Jaskier is content to let Geralt wrap around him and kiss his neck as he drifts off into a pleasant slumber.

The rest of his night doesn't go nearly so well. After waking up three times and still shivering despite having the extra blanket wrapped around him and pressing in as close to Geralt as he can, he gives up trying to sleep at all. So, hours before dawn, Geralt packs their entire camp up and hoists Jaskier up onto Roach's back, setting back out along the road.

Jaskier has no notion of time as they travel, drifting in and out of consciousness up until the moment they arrive at the gates. Geralt helps him down as they approach the stables and Jaskier resists the urge to lean into him and fall asleep. He helps remove Roach's tack, though Geralt takes it from him so he can guide Roach into the empty stall next to Eskel's horse. Geralt leads the way up through the courtyard and into the mess hall and Jaskier follows quietly, taking in very little of it.

Kaer Morhen isn't what he expected it to be. Not that he's had much of a chance to see it; as soon as Geralt got him inside, he ran through introductions and got him upstairs into a hot bath. In which, Jaskier promptly fell asleep against Geralt's chest. Since he's woken up, he's found the keep to be surprisingly warm and comfortable and nothing like the cold, dark dungeon Geralt has described to him time and time again. Then again, he thinks, living here as a young boy in training to be a Witcher must have been a very different environment. But he seems happy enough now.

That night, the pair of them head down for supper and Jaskier finds himself sitting across from Eskel. He feels bad about all the things he thought about him before, but now isn't the time to bring all of that up so he just smiles cheerfully at him. There will be time to talk later.

Later, they make their way up to bed together and there's a moment of quiet hesitation once they're alone before Jaskier takes Geralt's hands and leads him toward the bed.

Waking up next to Geralt, warm and safe in bed, is the greatest thing Jaskier has experienced thus far in his life. By the end of the evening, all hesitancy is gone and after a meal and drinks with the rest of their companions, Jaskier finds himself hauled upstairs and pressed into cold sheets. He's fairly certain the entire keep hears how easily Geralt pulls pleasure from his body, but it doesn't matter. The only person who matters is Eskel, and apparently, he already knows.

For the next couple of days Geralt shares his bed and then, on their fifth night in the keep, he pauses when Jasikier suggests heading to bed.

"Go to bed," he says gently, "but don't wait for me."

Jaskier smiles relieved that Geralt is comfortable enough not to lie about where he's going or what he's doing. "You don't have to come to bed tonight if you'd rather stay with Eskel."

Geralt's lips twitch up in a soft grin and he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to Jaskier's mouth. Jaskier sighs and as he opens to him, Geralt presses closer, slipping his hand into Jaskier's hair. He hums softly and Jaskier can feel the restless energy in him and for the first time since the first time tonight, he's a little bit jealous that he's not the one accompanying him. He breaks away first, leaning back in for just a second to press a final kiss to Geralt's lips.

"Have a good night," he whispers.

"Goodnight, Jaskier."

Sleeping alone in a big, unfamiliar room is odd, but Jaskier wraps himself up in the blankets and burrows in. He tries not to think too much about what's happening just down the hall, but it's not jealousy that has him trying to divert his thoughts.

Jaskier adjusts to sleeping alone and he adjusts to Eskel's soft closeness with Geralt during the days, appreciates it even. Geralt doesn't get enough affection in his life, as hard as Jaskier tries, so it's good to know someone else is there when he isn't. And he likes Eskel. More than he ever expected to, especially considering the circumstances. But Jaskier isn't a greedy person and if Geralt's happy, so is he. And considering what Geralt has told him of Eskel, maybe he should have expected him to be as welcoming as he is.

He never makes any attempt to draw Geralt away and any time Jaskier comes across the two of them alone, he's easily integrated into the conversation. They get along well and Geralt seems happiest when he's between them or when everyone's together in the mess hall, so even if Jaskier didn't like Eskel, he'd be willing to put up with him for Geralt's sake. But he does like him, though it isn't until midnight a week later that he really starts to appreciate him.

It's a warmer night than it has been, so Jaskier isn't missing Geralt's presence so much tonight. He's perfectly comfortable on his own and while he would be happier with someone to keep him company, he's not lonely. And all through the evening, it had been oh so clear how Geralt and Eskel were just waiting to slip away from the group and be alone. As he lies in the dark, he wonders if that's how he comes across when he slips into Geralt's lap and whispers in his ear. Maybe, but he doesn't mind and he's sure at least Eskel understands.

Jaskier shuts his eyes, wiggling deeper into the mattress as he tugs the blanket up to his chin. He could get used to spending the winters here if Geralt is willing to bring him.

When he wakes, gasping for breath and drenched in sweat, Jaskier doesn't remember crying out, but the knock on his door makes him think he must have. No one would be checking on him, otherwise.

"I'm fine," he calls, but he finds his voice hoarse and too quiet. It's been a long time since he's had nightmares this frequently and he doesn't know what's brought them on again, but he'd like it to stop.

He swings his legs over the side of the bed and pushes himself up, starting toward the door. Whoever knocked hasn't responded, so he pulls the door open, not expecting to see Eskel standing in the doorway.

"You alright?" he asks and Jaskier nods. "You cried out and I didn't want to wake Geralt, but I know he'd want to make sure you were okay."

"I am. Thank you."

"Geralt used to have terrible nightmares, too. Do you want to talk about it?"

Immediately, he wants to say no because Geralt's lover is the last person he wants to go complaining to. Especially a Witcher who has led a much harder life than he has. But as he's contemplating, he realizes Eskel's hand has found its way to his shoulder, warm and comforting and he doesn't want to be alone right now.

He tells Eskel about his dreams, though he doesn't go into detail. No one who cares about him wants to hear about all the gruesome ways Jaskier watches Geralt die in his dreams. But Eskel seems to get the gist of it. They head out onto the balcony where they're less likely to wake anyone and Eskel doesn't move when Jaskier leans into his body to keep warm.

"We've all been through it," he says, wrapping an arm around Jaskier's shoulders, "even Lambert, though you'd never get him to admit it. What do you dream about?"

"Geralt, mostly," he admits. "Sometimes I dream about dying, but mostly it's him."

"Understandable. Geralt lives a dangerous life, I'm still surprised he lets you follow along."

"I wouldn't say he lets me," Jaskier huffs, quirking his lips just slightly as he looks up at Eskel, "but he's never tried very hard to stop me."

Eskel huffs a soft laugh. "No, I can't imagine he did."

They talk for a while longer, but when Jaskier gets too cold, Eskel ushers him back into the keep and back to his room. When they reach the door, he offers his own bed that it might be more comfortable if he wasn't alone, but as much as Jaskier is happy to let Geralt and Eskel do their thing, he's not sure he wants to be that close to it. He declines the offer politely, ensuring that Eskel knows how much he appreciates it, and retreats into the room alone.

Now, at least, when he settles into bed, he falls asleep without any trouble.

It becomes a ritual, of sorts. Jaskier's dreams don't come every night and some nights Geralt is there to curl around him and ground him in the present, but when he's not, there's Eskel. And after a while, it's not just about the nightmares. If Jaskier is having a down day and Geralt is busy, Eskel is the one he turns to for comfort (gods know Lambert won't give in without a fight). Things are good between them and Jaskier regrets the way he acted the first time they met, but love can make people do stupid things and jealousy is worse.

Geralt spends most of his nights with Jaskier, even if they're just curled up together in the dark. The rest of the time, Geralt is with Eskel and as the weeks pass, Jaskier starts to feel the still-lingering discomfort shift. He's not jealous because admitting he's jealous would mean he has a problem with the way things are between them, or admitting that maybe Geralt isn't the only one he has feelings for. Which is absurd.

But he is closer to Eskel than he is with the others and more and more often he finds himself seeking him out, looking to bask in Eskel's warmth and understanding. But it's just because he's kind and understanding and willing to listen. Because Geralt has so few good things in his life. How could Jaskier even consider taking one of them away?

They're all drinking together one night and Geralt and Lambert are playing Gwent. Geralt gets too far into it every time he plays, so Jaskier keeps his distance, watching from his perch on the table, lute in his lap. When Lambert turns in for the night, Geralt frowns at the empty space across from him before glancing down the table at Jaskier.

"Do you want to play?" he asks and Jaskier scoffs.

"Maybe if you get me another drink?" he asks, smiling brightly down at Geralt. He gets a soft, bemused smile in response, but Geralt pushes himself up from the table and Jaskier watches as he leaves the room.

Jaskier is just drunk enough to feel pleasantly warm all over, the very few inhibitions he possesses lowered. Which is probably why, when Eskel slides down the bench to sit between his knees, he doesn't move. His heart beats a little quicker, but it's probably just the wine. Eskel lifts his arms, resting his elbows on Jaskier's knees and he tips his head to one side. Already, Jaskier is struggling against the swell of emotion that fills his chest, and the soft, lopsided smile Eskel gives him doesn't help.

"I hope Geralt realizes how lucky he is," he says and for a second, Jaskier is sure his heart stops. When Eskel's eyes flick up to his, curious, almost surprised, he's sure of it. Considering the amount of stuff Geralt overhears that he's not supposed to, Jaskier's just settled on the assumption that Witchers can hear everything. Including his heartbeat.

"You have a beautiful voice," Eskel continues and Jaskier fights a losing battle to get his body under control so he doesn't give himself away. If it's not too late already.

"Thank you," he chokes out, amazed that his voice is still working properly.

He doesn't remember the last time he felt like this. With Geralt it was simple; do nothing because it won't be well-received - or so he thought - but with Eskel he's sure he could just... lean in a little, press a little closer. But where does Geralt stand in that situation? Would he be upset, worried that maybe they'd go off together and leave him? Nevermind that Jaskier's been desperately in love with him for a couple of decades now. So once again, he does nothing and he shoves the feelings down and pretends like it's fine.

But he wants to kiss him and he can feel Eskel's body heat. And Eskel doesn't seem to share any of his concerns, letting his fingers slip over the side of Jaskier's thigh and tracing invisible patterns in the silk of his trousers. Jaskier startles when Eskel rises to his feet. He plants his hands on either side of Jaskier's hips and like this, they're barely a couple of inches apart and Jaskier can feel Eskel's breath on his face and he wants. But he can't, so he shuts his eyes.

"Do you know how beautiful you are?" Eskel asks and Jaskier has a witty remark right on the tip of his tongue, but then Eskel's mouth is against his own, kissing it away.

After kissing Geralt for the first time, he didn’t think anything as simple as a kiss would affect him this way, but as Eskel's lips part against his own, Jaskier can feel it all the way down to his toes. He lets out a soft sound as Eskel's arm slips around his waist, pulling him closer. Eskel breaks the kiss a moment later, only pulling back far enough to look at Jaskier.

"Come to bed with us tonight," he breathes.

"Will Geralt be okay with that?"

"I hope so," Eskel chuckles, leaning back in and pressing his lips against Jaskier's jaw. "It was his idea." Oh. "I didn't think you'd want to."

"How could I not? Who wouldn't gladly climb into bed with two handsome men like you?" Eskel snorts and pulls back to look at him, but Jaskier just smiles.

The clink of bottles against each other signals Geralt's return and Jaskier instinctively leans back a little but Eskel leans in close, breathing against his ear. "Don't worry," he whispers, "he likes it."

And Jaskier knows they can both tell the way his heart beats a little quicker, but he can't help it. He leans back further as Geralt comes to kneel behind him on the bench.

"Do you?" Jaskier asks, offering his most charming smile, "like seeing me with him?"

"Mmm," Geralt hums, cupping a hand under Jaskier's head and turning him just slightly to kiss him. When he draws back, he looks up to Eskel. "I do."

It takes Jaskier a moment to realize Geralt is playing with his shirt and it's not until he shifts that he realizes he's got it untucked from his trousers. One warm hand slips up under the fabric, fingers brushing over the bare skin beneath it and Jaskier shuts his eyes with a hum, shifting to lean back against him. As far as he's concerned, they could stay right here all night and he'd be perfectly happy with it.

Eskel's hands find his thighs, pressing down as he leans forward and catches Jaskier's lips in a heated kiss. Jaskier makes a soft noise of surprise but leans into it, and once Geralt gets him out of his doublet, he slips his arms around Eskel's neck. But the kiss doesn't last long and Eskel ducks his head, dragging his mouth down Jaskier's throat and down to press kisses into his chest.

Jaskier lets himself be moved and shifted into position, hips pulled forward so his body is flush against Eskel's. And Geralt climbs up behind him, knees on either side of his hips so Jaskier is pinned perfectly between them. His fingers slip into Eskel's hair, sliding through the strands as Eskel continues his exploration down Jaskier's stomach, undoing the buttons of his shirt as he goes. And if the sounds from behind him are anything to go by, Geralt does very much enjoy watching them together.

When Jaskier's shirt is entirely undone and Eskel has moved on to removing his boots, Geralt tugs the fabric from his shoulders. And Jaskier's pulse spikes as two sets of hands slide over his skin, then Eskel's settle on his waist, teasing the hem of his trousers. Jaskier is hardly ashamed to be half-hard already - anyone would be in his position - but his breath catches as Eskel's thumb brushes over the bulge of his cock. He tips his head back, intent on finding Geralt's mouth with his own, but when he looks up at him, he pauses.

Geralt is transfixed, paused mid-motion. His teeth pressed into his bottom lip, eyes focused on Eskel's hands where they tease at Jaskier's growing erection. Oh. He really does like to watch. Well, if that's what he wants, Jaskier isn't going to disappoint him.

He wiggles his hips enticingly and Eskel makes quick work of removing his trousers. With the last obstacle out of his way, Eskel presses in close, near enough that Jaskier's cock slips against his own - close but maddeningly separated by Eskel's clothes. Jaskier groans his disappointment, but in one surprisingly smooth motion, Eskel drops back to his seat, his fingers slipping over Jaskier's bare thighs and gripping around him. Jaskier tips his head down to watch as Eskel nuzzles between his thighs, thick stubble grazing against skin.

It's rough and a little bit ticklish, but the closeness and the way Eskel presses his face against him makes Jaskier's breath catch. He's been transfixed by Eskel for weeks now, his arms, his thighs, his lips, but now he's facing the very real possibility of having those lips wrapped around his cock and he doesn't know what to do with himself. Geralt presses against him, kisses the back of his neck, and slides a hand down his stomach.

He curves a hand around his cock, only vaguely touching him as he slips up the length of him. It's maddening in its teasing and Jaskier drops his head back against Geralt's chest with a groan, but then Eskel's lips press against his heated cock, following the path of Geralt's hand and Jaskier goes limp between them.

Geralt runs his hands up Jaskier's sides, steadying him as Eskel's lips slide over him and Jaskier leans into his warmth. Eskel's hands join Geralt's, fitting around Jaskier's hips and softly rubbing against his skin as he sinks down on him. It's never been a mystery why Geralt got involved with Eskel, but if this is what he's always like when they're alone, Jaskier can certainly see why he would keep coming back for more.

He groans as his cock bumps against the back of his throat, but Eskel doesn't let that stop him, pressing his nose into the curls at the base of his cock and swallowing around him. Jaskier is sure he's going to pass out when Eskel just stays like that and he wonders vaguely if the mutations took away his gag reflex because that could prove interesting. He bites his lip with a groan, failing miserably at an attempt to keep his hips steady. But Eskel doesn't seem to mind, guiding his hips with every little thrust. And Jaskier isn't sure he'll survive being treated this way.

He slips one arm back around Geralt's neck, steadying himself as the other slips into Eskel's hair. It takes all his concentration not to roll his hips up, slide his cock down Eskel's throat. His whole body shudders and he lets out a shuddering moan, mumbling softly as Eskel shifts and bobs in his lap.

One warm hand presses against his cheek and when he turns, Geralt catches his lips in a heated kiss. It's hot and possessive and Eskel groans at the way Jaskier’s cock throbs in response. The angle is a little off but Geralt nips at his lips and kisses him so deeply that Jaskier nearly forgets about the mouth around his cock until Eskel pulls off.

The little whine of disappointment is lost to Geralt's lips and when Jaskier eventually breaks free to look back down at Eskel, he has to remind himself not to be greedy. But it's hard when Eskel's looking up at him with those beautiful golden eyes and a faint smirk on his lips.

He rises to his feet again, pushing a hand through Jaskier's hair and cupping his jaw. For a split second, he looks like he wants to say something, but he presses forward instead, catching Jaskier's lips in a soft kiss.

"Don't start without me," he mumbles and then he's pulling away, stepping over the bench and crossing toward the door.

Despite the fire, the room feels suddenly cold without Eskel pressed against him and Jaskier cuddles back against Geralt, tugging his arms around him and shifting to kiss his neck. Geralt grabs his hips, holding him firmly and turning him in his lap. He pulls Jaskier against him, brushing his hair out of his eyes and drawing his head back to look at him.

"You look good with Eskel," he breathes, "very good. But I have to know you want this. I don't want you to do it for our sake."

"Our sake?" Jaskier asks and Geralt's hand slides to the back of his head.

"Eskel's become... fond of you."

"And you're alright with that?" Jaskier asks, hopeful.

"Why wouldn't I be? I... care deeply for both of you, why wouldn't I want him to want you, too?" He presses his lips to Jaskier's just briefly and when he pulls back, he's smiling softly. "I know you want him and I want you to. He wants you, too. We both do."

Geralt ducks his head, kissing his neck and sucking at the spot right under his jaw. He slips one arm around Jaskier's waist, tugging him closer as his other hand snakes between them, wrapping around his cock. He tugs firmly, pulling a startled gasp from Jaskier as his fingers tighten around him.

Jaskier lets him for a moment, before shifting so they're facing the opposite direction. He pushes Geralt back against the table, shifting onto his knees and he bends over him, quickly running his mouth up the Geralt's length through his trousers. He mouths at him through the fabric, taking special care when he reaches the head and Geralt's hands tangle in his hair, tugging gently as his hips rise against Jaskier's mouth.

The door creaks open but Jaskier is only distantly aware of it until he hears Geralt's muffled moan. Jaskier pushes himself up to find Eskel bent over Geralt, kissing him as Geralt's arms wind around his neck, fingers pushing through his hair. In that moment, he knows exactly why Geralt likes to watch.

Heat sears through him and he barely resists wrapping a hand around himself and getting off just like this. But he catches a glint of a vial in Eskel's hand and his heart thuds a little heavier in his chest. As Eskel pulls away, Geralt's hands fall to his sides and Jaskier can't help but smile at the soft expression on his face.

When Eskel steps away from him, Jaskier realizes he's hard, his cock straining hard against the front of his trousers. Fuck. And that fucking codpiece isn't doing anything to help matters. Jaskier climbs up, straddling Geralt's hips and rocking gently against him as he reaches out for Eskel, drawing him close with two fingers in the collar of his shirt. Eskel grins as Jaskier pulls him into a firm kiss, but he doesn't linger, even as one hand slides down to settle on the swell of Jaskier's ass.

"I think it's time we made our way upstairs," Eskel rumbles and Jaskier grumbles as Geralt asks,

"Vesemir?"

"Mm," Eskel confirms, "I don't think we need another lecture about bodily fluids." Geralt just huffs a laugh and pushes himself up, slipping a hand behind Eskel's head to guide his mouth to his own.

Eskel squeezes Jaskier's ass and dips to kiss him before pulling away to collect his clothes. Jaskier reluctantly slips from Geralt's lap and the three of them make their way upstairs toward Geralt's room.

As soon as they're in the room with the door shut, Jaskier finds himself pressed against it, a hot mouth against his own. The only way he knows it's Eskel is the scent of him. In time, he's sure he'll learn the differences in their touch, but right now he's already overwhelmed and not at all bothered with who is touching him.

He's lifted off his feet, legs snaking around Eskel's waist as one arm slips under his ass. Eskel's tongue slides between his lips and Jaskier groans, shifting his hips against him. He gets a little huff of a laugh from Eskel and is promptly deposited on the bed with Eskel on top of him. He never once breaks the kiss and Jaskier reaches up, encouraged by the press of Eskel's cock against his thigh. He tugs at Eskel's shirt, loosening it from his trousers and tugging it up over his head as Geralt joins them on the bed.

With Eskel free of his shirt, Jaskier reaches down, toying with the ties on his trousers. He gets a hum of approval and it takes a moment to realize it's coming from Geralt. He shifts above Jaskier's Jaskier, then, once he's settled, gently lifts Jaskier's head into his lap as Eskel moves back down his body. He gets his mouth around Jaskier's cock again, sucking him down as Jaskier whimpers under him.

It's not the first time Jaskier's gone to bed with more than one partner - far from it - but Jaskier more often than not finds himself in control in those situations. Tonight, though, Eskel has taken charge right from the start and Jaskier has never been happier to let himself be led. He writhes as Eskel's lips seal around him, squirms as his hands slip up over his thighs. Geralt's fingers wind through his hair and when Jaskier tips his head back he realizes Geralt is watching, his eyes focused on Eskel's mouth around him. And he's hard.

Jaskier lifts his head as well as he can, curling a hand around Geralt's neck to pull him into a kiss. It's a bit of an odd angle, but Geralt kisses him deeply, rumbles low against his lips and Jaskier arches off the bed. He feels Eskel chuckle around him before pulling off and climbing up over him. He kisses his way from Jaskier's chest up to his jaw and Geralt withdraws, letting Eskel claim Jaskier's mouth in a bruising kiss. He rocks his hips and Jaskier groans into his mouth. Eskel is thick and hard where he ruts against him and Jaskier desperately wants to get his mouth on him. Or Geralt. He isn't picky, but he is very impatient.

He's not sure if he'll get this opportunity again, so he pulls away regrettably sliding out from under Eskel's weight and leaving him with Geralt. And Eskel busies himself getting Geralt out of his shirt, something Jaskier finds difficult to tear his eyes from.

Geralt lets himself be manhandled much in the same way he does with Jaskier, but while it feels incredibly intimate and important when it's happening to him, there's something thrilling about seeing it from an outside point of view. The way Geralt lets himself be pushed and pulled into position, lets Eskel climb up over him and slot their bodies together perfectly.

Geralt reaches an arm out to him and Jaskier lies down next to him, kissing him when he turns his head toward him. Eskel hums, shifting so he and Jaskier bracket Geralt in, both pressed against his sides. And Jaskier takes his chance while he can, slipping a hand up the length of Geralt's cock through his trousers. He gets a soft groan in response, muffled against his lips, and squeezes a little firmer as Eskel's hand comes up below his.

Geralt bucks against them, rolling his head back and Jaskier takes advantage of the position to press his lips to Geralt's neck, sucking lightly as his fingers slip to his trousers, picking at the buttons. Eskel's strokes speed up a little, his hand bumping against Jaskier's every few seconds, but Jaskier still manages to undo the buttons and slip Geralt's cock free of its confines. Geralt groans as bare fingers wrap around him and Jaskier pulls from his mouth, kissing his way down to the head of his cock before licking a stripe up the side of him.

There's a muffled sound of pleasure from above him but Jaskier is focused on his task now, wrapped up in the taste of Geralt on his tongue to worry about anything else. He sinks down on him, sliding up and down his length with ease as Geralt moans above him, each sound muffled by Eskel's mouth against him. The thought of them together spurs him on and he slides one hand up Geralt's thigh, and up his chest as he flattens his tongue against him.

He's been paying attention to what Geralt likes, committing it to memory every time they're together, taking notes on what makes Geralt moan and what makes him writhe and arch off the bed. He's learning quickly. Geralt likes to be teased, even if he would never admit it; likes when Jaskier sucks him nice and slow, letting his tongue drag along the length of him, his lips slide delicately over the head. And Jaskier likes to take his time with Geralt, so it works out nicely.

Geralt groans and Eskel kisses the sounds from his mouth shifting against him and Jaskier flicks his eyes up to watch. He's not above admitting that watching them turns him on and if he's allowed, he may as well take advantage of it. But Eskel does something and Geralt whines against his lips, hips jumping forward to press his cock against the roof of Jaskier's mouth. He shudders as Jaskier sinks back on him and wraps an arm around Eskel's neck, pulling him closer.

Jaskier wants to watch, but he gets lost in the rock of Geralt's hips, the heady scent of him and he shuts his eyes and slides one hand up Geralt's chest. He teases at his nipple, rubbing it firmly, spurred on by the way Geralt twitches beneath him. He doesn't even realize Eskel's got his cock out until he hears a rumbling groan and looks over to find him with a hand around himself, leaning in so he's rutting against Geralt's thigh and that's certainly something.

Heat sears through him and Jaskier aches to get his mouth around him. He doesn't think he could, but he desperately wants to try. Eskel slips the hand from his cock to reach out, brushing his fingers against Jaskier's cheek and lifting him from Geralt's cock.

"Get him ready for me?" he breathes and Jaskier nods before he's pulled into a sloppy kiss.

It lingers longer than Jaskier's expecting and he finds himself pulled into Eskel's lap and he only just manages to snake a hand between them, wrapping around the head of Eskel's cock before Eskel's pulling away again.

He doesn't mind much when he considers the idea of watching Eskel fuck Geralt and he pulls away, running a hand up Geralt's thigh.

"Roll over for me?" he asks and Geralt is quick to comply, though he tugs Jaskier down against him. He smiles as he kisses him and Jaskier is loath to move, but he wriggles out of Geralt's grip nonetheless.

He shifts to straddle his hips, kissing a line down Geralt's spine until he reaches the swell of his ass. Jaskier squeezes the flesh, bending down to nip at him gently and he settles between Geralt's thighs. He feels when Eskel slips up behind him, but he tries to focus on Geralt, bending low to kiss him before pressing between his cheeks.

He licks a stripe over his hole and Geralt shudders under him, reaching back to grab Jaskier's hand and hold it. It's absurdly romantic when Jaskier has his face in his ass, but he loves it and he squeezes back hard. Jaskier starts off slow, with soft kisses and gentle touches, but Geralt rocks beneath him, pushing back against his mouth and it's hard to deny him exactly what he wants.

He presses his tongue against him, letting Geralt relax under him before pushing against the muscle. Geralt is surprisingly giving and Jaskier pushes into him without much effort. It's a heady feeling, the way Geralt trembles under his touch and squeezes his hand, thumb tracing circles in his skin. Jaskier fucks into him slowly, licking around his rim before pushing in again and Geralt whines as he pushes deeper, fucks him quicker.

When Jaskier gets a finger in alongside his tongue, Geralt arches off the bed and Jaskier almost thinks he could make him come just like this. And he's sorely tempted, even as Eskel presses up against his back, slipping a bottle of oil next to him.

"I want to see him come on your fingers," Eskel growls, low and rough against his ear and before Jaskier can even answer Eskel's nosing at his neck, nipping at the skin beneath his ear. Jaskier leans into the touch, withdrawing his fingers and reaching for the oil. He has every intention of following through with Eskel's command.

He slicks his fingers and presses one back between Geralt's cheeks, vividly aware of Eskel leaning over him, watching every movement. And he's as determined to please Eskel as he is Geralt. He works one finger into him, leaning low again to lick around the intrusion and Geralt mumbles into the pillows and he rolls his hips.

It's' not long before he can get a second finger into him and Jaskier crooks both fingers, pressing deep and seeking out that certain spot. When he finds it, Geralt whimpers and Eskel nuzzles against his neck. It makes it hard to concentrate, but Eskel seems unworried, wrapping one arm around his waist and slipping a hand down to wrap around his cock. Jaskier keens, jerking into the touch.

"Needy," Eskel hums. Which. It's hardly his fault. Eskel rocks against him and Jaskier is tempted to ask him to fuck him instead, prep or no.

He bends over, pushing his hips back against him and grinds back against Eskel's cock as he works into Geralt. His rhythm is a little unsteady, but he's been hard for so long he can barely help the way he rocks between his hand and his cock. It's a miracle he can even think enough to keep fingering Geralt. But he does, and when he gets a third into him, Geralt is panting and rutting against the bed.

"Jask," he groans, "please-"

"Are you gonna come for me?" Jaskier asks, his voice shaking as Eskel's cock slides against his hole. He's pushing close to the edge too and he's not sure Geralt coming won't tip him over.

Eskel's fingers tighten around him and Jaskier pushes through with a groan, thighs shaking as he shoves his fingers deep and presses against his prostate. Geralt squeezes his hand so hard Jaskier thinks he'll lose sensation in his fingers and he pushes his hips back against him, encouraging the press of Jaskier's fingers.

"Fuck, he looks good like this, doesn't he?" Eskel hums. "We're so damn lucky." He's still working at a spot on Jaskier's neck and he knows he'll have a mark in the morning and something about the fact that it's from Eskel makes it all that much more thrilling.

He tries to lean back into Eskel, but then he's being pushed forward. Eskel keeps him steady, but Jaskier's overwhelmed. He pushes Geralt's hand up, shifting to lean low over him, rutting into Eskel's fist. He rubs into Geralt and he can feel that he's close. Geralt's hips twitch shakily under him and he pulls Jaskier's hand under him, kissing his palm and pressing his nose against it.

"Jask," he breathes and that's as far as he gets before he's coming, shuddering through his orgasm.

Jaskier keeps his fingers inside him, thrusting lightly as Geralt rides through it. Geralt squirms under him, rocking back onto him even after he's come down and when Jaskier moves to pull away, Eskel intervenes. He pulls Jaskier back against him, propping him up on his lap and Jaskier is too overwhelmed to do anything but slump against his chest, head rolling on his shoulder as Eskel jerks him quick and hard.

He comes in a matter of seconds, arching off of him and crying out. Eskel stokes him through it and when a second set of hands rest on his hips, Jaskier opens his eyes to find Geralt sitting in front of him. He tips forward to kiss him and then, as he slumps back against Eskel, Geralt leans in to kiss Eskel too.

"Still wanna fuck me?" Geralt mumbles and Eskel huffs against his mouth.

"Gods, yes," he breathes. "Lie down for me."

Geralt does as he's asked, settling on his stomach, and Jaskier scoots out of the way, sprawling out next to him. He presses his nose into Geralt's side, inhaling the scent of him. He knows Geralt and Eskel will both have another couple of rounds in them, but he's already tired and quite happy to just cuddle up against Geralt's side.

Geralt's eyes drop shut and he breathes softly against Jaskier's lips, groaning as Eskel presses into him. Jaskier watches the way pleasure washes over his face and Eskel groans in time with him which is enough to have Jaskier's cock twitching again. Geralt flops against the bed, pulling Jaskier close to kiss him softly, even as he's jolted by Eskel.

Geralt is beautiful in the way he writhes against the bed and Jaskier can't keep his eyes off him. He shouldn't be getting hard again already but he's obsessed with the way Geralt moves and the sounds Eskel makes as he fucks him. Jaskier rolls onto his back, pressing against Geralt's side as he runs a hand down his own stomach. He slips down, wrapping a hand around himself and strokes slowly, feeling the way his cock swells under his touch. When he looks up, he finds Eskel watching him, a soft smirk on his face and Eskel reaches down, pushing Jaskier's hand away to jerk him off himself.

Jaskier slumps but his hips jump up. He's sensitive, but Eskel's hand feels incredible and he can't help but press into the touch. He groans as he leans into Geralt tipping his head to kiss his cheek, but Geralt shifts onto his elbows, leaning over to kiss him properly. He nips at his lips and Jaskier groans, reaching for Geralt and cupping his face.

He holds him close and Geralt kisses him hard, lips parting to deepen the kiss, shifting so he's closer, one arm draped over Jaskier's chest. Geralt's thumb brushes against his nipple and Jaskier whines against his lips, squirming against the bed. Eskel just squeezes him harder and slides his hand to the base, dipping down to suck the head of his cock into his mouth.

"Fuck," Jaskier hisses, "Fuck, Eskel please-"

Eskel flicks his tongue at him and sinks down just far enough to press his tongue against the underside of the head and Jaskier whimpers.

Eskel pulls off abruptly, running a hand up the inside of Jaskier's thigh.

"What if Geralt sucks you off?" he asks and Geralt hums as Jaskier groans.

"Would you like that?" Geralt asks, drawing away to kiss his neck. "Do you want to come again?"

"Yeah," Jaskier breathes and Geralt hums against his lips again.

"Sit up, Jask, let me see you."

Jaskier pulls himself upright, scrambling to his knees and shifts to kneel in front of Geralt. He gives himself a couple of quick strokes and catches Eskel's eye over Geralt's head.

Eskel gives him a short smack and Geralt grumbles but he presses his head into Jaskier's stomach and Jaskier is so desperately in love with him. He reaches down to brush Geralt's cheek, smiling at him as Eskel does something particularly delightful behind him and Geralt shoves his hips back.

"Fuck, Eskel," he groans and Jaskier runs a soothing hand down his spine.

He meets Eskel's eyes just for a moment, the heat in them burning straight through to his core. His cock twitches just as Geralt ducks his head, his nose brushing against him. Jaskier's mouth drops open. He's trying to be patient because Geralt has been so fucking patient with him, but it's difficult when he's rock hard and Geralt's breath is so hot against his cock.

With a groan, he slips a hand around himself, watching as Eskel's face presses between Geralt's cheeks and the way Geralt jerks and groans under his attention. Jaskier sits back on his heel and Geralt drops with him, pressing kisses against Jaskier's thighs and moving up to suck his cock into his mouth.

He swallows him down in one swift motion, propping himself up on his elbows. Jaskier drops back, knees pressing apart instinctively and he presses a soft hand to the back of Geralt's head. He pushes his fingers through his hair, dropping his head back and following the motion of Geralt's as he takes Jaskier's cock all the way down. He's quicker at it than Eskel, slipping right back up to press his tongue under the head. And fuck if he isn't good with his tongue. It's one of the few things that really surprised Jaskier when they introduced sex into their relationship and he shudders now as Geralt winds his tongue around him.

"Oh," he groans. Eskel looks up at him again and whatever he does next has Geralt pitching forward, swallowing around Jaskier's cock as he shoves his hips back hard.

Jaskier nearly doubles over and his hips give a sharp thrust forward though Geralt doesn't seem to mind. If anything, he moans deeper and Jaskier feels the vibrations of it around his cock.

"It's okay," Eskel hums, "you can fuck his mouth, he likes it."

Lust swells in Jaskier's chest as Geralt gives a grunt of assent and he runs a hand through Geralt's hair, testing his reaction as he rolls his hips. The response he gets is unequivocally positive and Geralt's hands slip under his thighs, holding him like that as Jaskier rocks his hips a little harder.

Jaskier rocks forward, pressing into the wet heat of Geralt's mouth. He's still so sensitive and the occasional graze of Geralt's teeth sends sparks up his spine. He lets his fingers slip through Geralt's hair, tugging gently and winding through it.

Jaskier can feel when Eskel thrusts into him, the way Geralt's body sways with the motion, pushing forward onto Jaskier and backward onto Eskel. It's intoxicating to see Geralt this way, giving himself up completely to the pair of them. He's always been giving as long as Jaskier's known him, and in bed, he's no different, but this feels so much bigger than his usual caring demeanour and Jaskier is a little overwhelmed by the sheer amount of trust Geralt must have in them.

In a rush of emotion, Jaskier withdraws and when Geralt looks up at him, he pushes Geralt up to his knees, shuffling up close to wrap his arms around his neck. He twists the fingers of one hand in Geralt's hair, reaching down with the other to stroke him slowly. Geralt keens under the touch, rocking his hips slowly with a soft groan against Geralt's lips.

"Tell me how he feels," Jaskier breathes, pressing his face into Geralt's neck. He nips at his skin and kisses over the marks as they fade.

"Good," Geralt groans. "Really good."

Jaskier hums and flicks his eyes up to meet Eskel's. In an instant, he's tugged forward and Eskel's mouth crashes against his own, tugging his hair and biting softly at his lower lip. One of Geralt's arms slips around his waist and Jaskier presses forward, eager to be closer to both of them.

His cock aches where it's trapped against Geralt's hip and his hips shift as though of their own will, sliding through the dip of Geralt's hip. He moans softly, stuttering against Eskel's lips and then Eskel pulls away. He leans over Geralt's other side, whispering against his ear.

"On your back," is all he says as Geralt complies, Jaskier shuffles out of the way, watching the way his hair splays out around his head. Geralt truly is beautiful and when Jaskier looks up to Eskel, it's clear he's having the same thought.

Eskel gets his knees under Geralt's thighs, slipping two fingers into him and thrusting quickly. Geralt groans as he lifts his hips, pushing back onto Eskel's fingers. Jaskier watches with fascination, sitting back on his heels and absently stroking himself to the scene in front of him. He'd be happy to spend the rest of the night just like this, happy enough to have been invited to bed with them in the first place, but Geralt apparently has other ideas.

Eskel withdraws his fingers, smoothing up Geralt's side as he presses into him again and Geralt shuts his eyes and rolls his head back. He reaches out, running a hand down Jaskier's thigh before curling a hand around his wrist. He tugs him forward and Jaskier lets himself be pulled on top of him, straddling Geralt's hips.

Geralt kisses him and Jaskier drops onto his chest, winding his fingers through Geralt's hair as he deepens the kiss. A warm hand slides down his back and he arches into it, his cock slipping against Geralt's skin as he does. Eskel's hand slips over his hip, fingertips brushing along his thigh and dragging back up to his ass. Eskel's not subtle, not at all, but when his fingers press between Jaskier's cheeks, slick and probing, Jaskier whimpers.

Geralt's hand slips into his hair and he draws back, letting Jaskier bury his face in his neck. He groans softly, kissing Geralt's skin as Eskel works a finger into him. It's hot and tight and wonderful and Jaskier can't help the way he ruts against Geralt's stomach, pressing his cock into the soft flesh of his stomach. But Geralt evidently doesn't mind, cupping his ass with one hand while the other pushes through his hair.

"Feel good?" he asks and Jaskier groans a response as Eskel thrusts into him again.

"Yeah," Jaskier breathes, "gods, yes."

Eskel makes quick work of opening him up and Jaskier is disappointed when he withdraws. Eskel's fingers are thick and talented and he'd have been happy to come on them. He groans his dissatisfaction, rocking his hips back, but then Geralt's hands are on him, guiding him down onto his cock.

Geralt's hips stutter as he bumps against him, but Jaskier is hot and overstimulated and impatient. He pushes back onto him with a groan, sitting up to lean against Eskel's chest. Eskel's arm winds around his chest, holding him close as Jaskier rocks forward, adjusting to the stretch of Geralt's cock. He settles with Geralt fully sheathed and Geralt's hands come up to hold his hips down as he shifts, pushing off of Eskel's chest.

He drops his head back on Eskel's shoulder, moaning softly against his neck and reaches down to stroke himself, fingers slipping through pre-come to tease at the head of his cock. He's so close and being caught between the pair of them is doing nothing to stifle the need searing through him. And Geralt bucks under him, fingers digging into his skin as he arches off the bed. Jaskier braces himself on his chest, rubbing circles with his thumb until he's unceremoniously tugged back down.

Geralt kisses him hard, arms wound tightly around his shoulders and Jaskier just goes limp against him as he fucks him hard. When Geralt comes, he digs his fingers into Jaskier's scalp, nose pressed into his neck and Jaskier whimpers as Geralt thrusts deep.

For a moment they're still and then Eskel shifts behind them and Geralt makes a little groaning sound as Eskel pulls out. Geralt follows after him, loosening his grip and shifting to withdraw. He runs his hands up Jaskier's back and Jaskier can feel the way Eskel leans over him, kissing his neck. He's still not wholly sure how he wound up wrapped up in not one but two Witchers, but he certainly doesn't regret it. Eskel is soft and sweet and apparently, excellent at making Jaskier lose his mind and Geralt is. Well, he's Geralt. Jaskier was lost on him from the very first moment.

"You didn't come," Geralt mumbles and Jaskier is just about to tell him it's fine when Eskel bends low over him, nipping playfully at the back of his neck.

"Can I fuck you?" Eskel breathes and a whole new wave of arousal engulfs Jaskier. He whines and pushes back as Eskel's cock presses between his cheeks.

"Yeah," Jaskier gasps, "yeah, please."

Eskel doesn't waste time, draping himself over Jaskier's back and pushing into him. He's bigger than Geralt and there's some resistance, but when Eskel groans against his ear, Jaskier nearly goes limp with it. He drops onto his hands, planted on the bed on either side of Geralt's head and presses his forehead against Geralt's. Two sets of hands hold him steady as Eskel bottoms out.

He's careful, moving in shallow movements and normally Jaskier would appreciate the thought with a cock like that, but he's already slick and fucked loose and he just wants to come again. He shoves his hips back hard, prompting a deep groan from Eskel, but it seems to get his point across. Eskel holds his hips, rutting into his before withdrawing and thrusting hard.

He picks up the pace and Jaskier's skin prickles with the pleasure of it, though he goes limp, draping himself across Geralt's chest and burying his face in his hair. Geralt's legs are still wrapped around Eskel's and he pulls him closer as he kisses Jaskier's temple, brushes the hair from his face.

"Oh," Jaskier whines and Geralt kisses him so softly, a stark contrast to the way Eskel fucks him, quick and hard.

They're both drawing close. He can feel it in the way Eskel's form falters, the way his hips stutter just the slightest bit, the way he presses deep and sprawls over Jaskier's back, content to rock into him. It's constant pressure against his prostate and Jaskier whimpers. His cock drips against Geralt's stomach and he's so fucking close but he can't tip over that edge. Eskel's breath is on his neck and he kisses his neck. It's obvious that he's not going to last much longer, but he nuzzles against Jaskier's shoulders.

"Still good?" he asks and Jaskier manages a weak nod.

"Close," he mumbles and Geralt hums from under him.

He gets a hand in Jaskier's hair, pulling him down into a sloppy kiss as one hand winds around Jaskier's cock. The desperate moan is lost between Geralt's lips, but Jaskier is pushed forward with each of Eskel's thrusts and it doesn't take long before he's spilling all over Geralt's chest, forehead buried in his neck.

Eskel follows shortly, pulling out gently before flopping onto the bed next to Geralt. Jaskier tries to move, but he's held in place by a firm arm around his waist, and when Geralt kisses him, he lets himself relax.

Geralt gets an arm around Eskel's neck, drawing him closer and as Eskel shifts, he throws an arm over Jaskier's waist, fingers brushing lightly over Geralt's forearm. The last thing Jaskier knows is Eskel leaning in for a kiss before sleep overtakes him and his eyes drop shut.

It's dark when he wakes again. The middle of the night, he suspects. There's a soft moan from next to him and a heavy weight around his shoulders - Eskel - and he shuffles toward his warmth. But a sharp groan startles him to wakefulness and it only takes a second for him to realize Geralt isn't where he left him when he fell asleep.

A quick look around puts Geralt on his knees at the foot of the bed, his head between Eskel's thighs. Eskel groans again, shifting to arch off the bed and Jaskier smiles to himself. He's still exhausted, and while the thought of joining them makes his cock twitch with anticipation, he'd rather sleep for a few more hours. Let them have their fun.

These two are going to kill him one day, but at least it will be a good death.

[yehet-about-it]

Chase Me | Part 17 - Lock The Door Next Time

⇐ || ☆ Masterlist ☆ || ⇒

🎮👾 ~ The Boyz Social Media AU ~ 👾🎮

"Twitching" is a British term used to mean "the pursuit of a previously located rare bird." In North America it is more often called chasing...

Pairings: Changmin x Reader, Sunwoo x Reader

Warnings: 17+, language, some smut in later chapters, fuckboy!sunwoo 😉

Updates Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday & Sunday @ 9pm GMT/1pm PST

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Word Count: 3.1k (I am SO sorry... although I'm kind of not bc I lowkey love this chapter) Warnings: Mature content, may involve maStUrBaTioN, a whole lot of embarrassment and Chanhee having the time of his goddamn life bc its not him in the awkward situation for once 🙃

You sighed, dropping your unreasonably heavy camera bag on the table as you walked into the living room, Chanhee in close pursuit looking equally as tired. You’d spent several long hours at a shoot for a new project you’d been hired to do and had come back to the boys’ apartment to do some editing before you called it quits for the day.

“Should we order food now?” You called out as Chanhee went to his room to unload his gear and fetch his macbook for editing. You knew you needed to work but you hadn’t eaten since the morning and you couldn’t stop the thoughts of takeout food swirling around in your head. “Mm, the Chinese?” Chanhee replied sitting down across the table. “Can you go and ask Changmin if he wants anything while I set this up? He’s probably in his room.”

You nodded happily, perking up at the prospect of food and left Chanhee to upload the photos from the day whilst you went off in search of Changmin. He wasn’t in their gaming room as you walked by so you continued down the corridor towards his room. As you neared his door you could hear a murmur, and coming to a stop outside the room you recognised your name being called by Changmin, only it was ever so quiet, barely audible through the wood of the door, so you figured maybe it was just him registering your presence. Assuming he’d realised you were there, you swung the door open not quite expecting the scene that was presented before you. Changmin was sat on his bed, propped up against the pillows with his lips parted, hair hanging low in front of his eyes, and scanning further down you saw that his sweatpants were bunched low on his hips as his hand gripped what appeared to be a very hard erection. You let out a shriek as you realised what you had stumbled upon, immediately slamming the door back shut and racing down the corridor before Changmin even had chance to react.

“Oh my god, oh my god.” You repeated it like a mantra, your heart pounding from the shock as you slid back into the living room and into your chair opposite New. “What the hell’s wrong with you?” Chanhee asked in bewilderment looking at you as though you’d just committed the 7 deadly sins. “I should have knocked!” you squeaked burying your face in your palms in total, unfathomed embarrassment. You took a deep breath trying to calm yourself, but the image of Changmin’s hand wrapped snugly around his length, pleasuring himself as he uttered your name was well and truly burned into your brain.

“What? Why?” Chanhee asked, a puzzled expression forming from his features. “He- oh my word- he was- touchi- Ugh I can’t say it!” you whined. “He wasn’t…? Oh my god...” Eventually realising what had happened, a hysterical fit of laughter erupted from your best friends throat as you hid behind your hands, your cheeks most definitely flushed with the brightest pink. “Oh my god that idiot” Chanhee cackled, tears starting to form in the corners of his eyes from the sheer force of his laughter. You sank down in your chair a pained smile on your face as you couldn’t help but be affected by Chanhee’s reaction. “Chanhee what am I gonna do? I’ll never be able to look him in the eye again!” You wailed, the howling starting to dye down as Chanhee regained his composure. “Not my problem” Chanhee teased. “I’ll make it your problem” you replied stroppily, whacking him lightly on the arm in annoyance. “Ow!” Chanhee clutched his arm in feigned pain before proceeding to laugh at you once again. “It’s not funny Chanhee! This is so awkward!”

You had by now gotten over the initial shock of seeing one of your longest friends exposed like that, and now you were wondering how the hell you were gonna get over the awkwardness of the situation. But most of all, you were wondering why the hell he’d been moaning your name of all names and what that meant. Not that you were going to mention that to New. That would open a whole new can of worms and lead this conversation down a whole new road that you didn’t particularly want to explore, as well as give Chanhee even more ammunition for further teasing.

“That’s exactly why it IS funny.” Chanhee chided, whipping his phone out, presumably either to tease Changmin or get the Chinese menu up, or both. “Guess he won’t be joining us for the Chinese then?” You rolled your eyes at Chanhee’s teasing (though also legitimate) question. “Well it’s not like I stuck around to ask.” You crossed your arms as you gave Chanhee a warning glare. “Fine, I’ll ask him then.” He said, and your phone lit up on the table a moment later – of course he’d mentioned it in your group chat.

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Changmin had heard Chanhee’s cackling from his room at the other end of the apartment and had been mentally cursing for the duration, his face perhaps an even brighter shade of scarlet than yours. Of all of the awkward things to happen, the girl he liked and one of his best friends walking in while he was halfway to climax thinking about her had to be the most unfortunate. Firstly there was the problem of how he’d ever look you in the eye again, but secondly was the problem that remained below his waistline. You walking in hadn’t helped that of course. If it had been Chanhee or Kevin walking in, his stiffness would have gone in a split second, but despite the embarrassment of what had just happened, his length remained taut against his boxers which he’d quickly pulled back up in shock after your momentary appearance. He was no longer in the mood to continue, too worried about what you might be thinking, so he decided his only option was to go for a cold shower in the hope that that might fix it.

Before he had the chance to hop in however, his phone buzzed, showing a text from New. He groaned as he read the older boys words, knowing that he’d never live this down whining again when he realised the texts were sent not just to him but to your group chat. Thankfully Changmin had already eaten, although he wouldn’t mind a bit of Chinese, but given the current awkwardness he decided to pass up on the offer for food. He would probably be able to face you later but if he ordered food he’d have to sit with you to eat it, and the embarrassment was stilll far too fresh for that to be a comfortable affair, so he quickly typed out his reply and hopped in the shower to deal with the problem beneath his pants.

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An hour or so later you and Chanhee had just about finished your editing for the day and were tucking into your food, but you still hadn’t heard a peep out of Changmin. You sighed, finishing your bowl of jajangmyeon, feeling a little guilty that Changmin wasn’t sharing in the joys of your takeout food, all because you’d been dumb enough not to knock. “Hm maybe I should take him something” you sighed looking across all the cartons of food you’d ordered. Maybe he had actually eaten already, but there was so much, and you were sure he’d like some. “You’re not going to eat all that are you?” You asked Chanhee, nodding to the half full box of kkanpunggi in the middle. Chanhee just shrugged. “You sure you want to go back in there?” He sniggered as he asked the question, deliberately trying to provoke you. “No I am not, but I’m not going to avoid him forever just because I’ve seen his dick” you declared defiantly, making Chanhee almost spit out his boba as he doubled over in laughter. However awkward you were feeling, you’d have to face each other eventually. Normally you wouldn’t be so thrown off by something like this, for instance, you’d once accidentally walked in on Kevin going at it with someone one time when you’d stayed over at Sunwoo’s, but you’d just greeted it with an ew and laughed about it later. The only thing that had you feeling so utterly flustered was the sound of him uttering your name whilst he was clearly having some ‘time to himself’, but since you figured he wouldn’t necessarily be aware you’d heard that, you decided you’d be able to brush it off for now and pretend like everything was just peachy.

“Well just remember to knock this time” Chanhee quipped as you stood up, taking the box of spicy garlic fried chicken with you, picking up some of the spare chopsticks the restaurant had sent too. You grinned sarcastically at Chanhee, your eyes silently telling him he was an asshole, before disappearing off down the hall to Changmin’s room, praying that he’d be fully tucked into his pants this time. “Changmin? Can I come in?” you called as you knocked tentatively on his door. You heard some shuffling and low muttering before he answered with an uncertain “sure”.

Swinging the door open for the second time this evening you were relieved to see Changmin perched on his bed, fully clothed with an xbox controller in his lap and his headset to the side of him. You saw the overwatch character select screen flickering brightly on his tv screen too so you could only assume he was playing online with someone. “Oh you’re playing? Who’s on?” you asked quietly as you walked a couple of steps into the room, the carton of kkanpunggi still in hand. “Uh, just Eric.” Changmin replied, his eyes darting around the room as he struggled to make eye contact with you, for understandable reasons. “Hi Eric!” You sang loudly so he could hear you through the microphone. Though it was quiet, only coming from Changmin’s headset you heard a faint chuckle and Eric’s voice returning the greeting. “I brought you some kkanpunggi, I thought you might like some, it’s really good” you said, turning your attention back to the boy actually in the room.

Changmin’s expression softened watching as you stood there, proudly holding up the box of chicken and chopsticks. Even after what happened you were still thoughtful enough to bring him nice food so he wouldn’t miss out. What he wouldn’t give to be able to just pull you onto his lap and feed one other the delicious food, cleaning up any stray sauce with kisses. In his dreams he thought.

“Awh how come he gets chicken?” Eric whined through the headphones pulling Changmin out of his daydream. “KEVIN-HYUNG CAN WE GET CHICKEN?!” The sudden loudness of the younger boy through the headphones made you giggle, and you shared an amused look with Changmin. As bizarre as it was though, you were rather grateful for Eric’s random inputs which actually seemed to have the effect of relieving some of the tension in the room.

“Yah be quiet! I’m not even wearing my headphones and that hurt my ears!” Changmin called towards his headset shutting the younger boy up with an insincere sorry. “Oh it smells good, thank you y/n!” Changmin smiled sweetly at you as you placed the box down on the side table next to his bed. “That’s okay!” You replied, moving a few steps away again before looking nervously towards Changmin’s headset. You wanted to apologise for your earlier intrusion to get it out of the way, but you definitely didn’t want Eric to be witness to that, so you lowered your voice to a whisper. “Oh um, so I’ll be leaving in a bit, I just wanted to say sorry for earlier, I um- I should probably have knocked before I came in.”

Changmin could feel the heat rising in his cheeks being reminded of the earlier incident and although his hair mostly covered it, the tips of his ears were now definitely a blazing pink. “Oh-“ He was frankly a little stuck for words. He’d been sat in his room for the better part of an hour rehearsing what he might say to you in his head, but now you’d come in here to apologise, with chicken no less, he didn’t really have an answer for you. “Uh- it’s okay,” he mumbled. “Sorry you had to see that.”

Before it could get too awkward however, you snickered as you heard Eric and Kevin clearly having an argument about chicken faintly through the headphones still laying next to Changmin and you thanked your lucky stars that they evidently weren’t listening to you and Changmin’s awkward exchange. “Well I promise I’ll knock next time.” Changmin chuckled, running a hand sheepishly through his hair as you moved back toward the door. “I’ll let you get back to the game if those two ever stop arguing, I’ll see you later yeah?”

Changmin nodded and said goodbye as you slipped out to return to the dining table where New sat, a mischievous glint in his eye as he grinned at you. “On a scale of 1 to Eric talking to girls, just how awkward was he?” He asked, clearly trying to stifle his laughter. “Shut up New” you scoffed as you began picking up the empty food cartons to throw in the trash. This little shit was gonna milk this out for as long as possible and you weren’t here for it. “Well at least you didn’t scream and run out this time” he bantered, only to be met with a look of pure contempt from you as he passed you one of the empty food containers. “I am this close to pouring this black bean sauce all over that new balenciaga t-shirt Chanhee” you threatened holding out a carton that had the remains of some sauce wobbling about in the bottom. Chanhee jumped back covering his shirt with his hands, knowing that it wasn’t an empty threat from another time he’d pissed you off and you threw half a cup of peach tea all over him. It was a waste of the tea, but he’d had it coming. “That’s what I thought.” You proclaimed before disappearing into the kitchen to dispose of the containers.

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On your way home your head was filled with all kinds of thoughts about what you’d unintentionally just witnessed. All you really wanted to do was relax after a long day of work and carrying heavy equipment around, but all you could think about was your name on Changmin’s lips and what the hell it meant. Was it just an accident? Or if it wasn’t, did that confirm everything that Kevin had been telling you? Did Changmin really like you? There had been an undeniable vibe between you for the past few weeks, what with the increasing amount of time you spent together and the intimate moment on the roof last night, but until this weekend, you hadn’t thought about it much, your mind largely preoccuppied with your anger towards Sunwoo.

Your mind flipped through your memories with Changmin as you sat on the tube, trying to make sense of everything, and as you did so, it dawned on you. Kevin was right. Changmin liked you. Perhaps that was even what he had tried to tell you the previous night before Jeju had abruptly cut him off. You recalled all the times Changmin had sat with you and listened to you rant about Sunwoo, the way he’d been so angry the day after that one fateful party, and how he’d always been there waiting for you with a hug when you were down. It was a wonder you’d never realised it before. Perhaps Changmin’s warm presence in your life had just become so natural you never thought anything of it, but it was becoming increasingly clear that this wasn’t just two friends looking out for eachother. No, it was more than that.

You felt a heat in your chest as you processed this revelation, trying to make sense of your own feelings. You adored Changmin, but then who didn’t? The way his dimples made him look like the sweetest angel whenever he smiled, the way his eyes lit up whenever he discovered something really interesting, the way he couldn’t stop himself from giggling even at the most inappropriate moments. It was impossible not to like him. But then not everybody knew him like you. They didn’t have your relationship. Changmin had always been there for you, even though it was Chanhee you called your best friend and Sunwoo he called his. He always seemed to know exactly what you needed – when to give you space, when to give you hugs or when to make you laugh so hard you cried. Upon reflection, there was no one who came close to making you feel as happy and comfortable as Changmin did. You couldn’t think of a single occasion he hadn’t made you smile and you slowly began to realise… Was it possible… that you liked him too?

Then the thoughts of Sunwoo swarmed your mind. Did he know Changmin was into you? No of course not. They weren’t on the best of terms right now but you imagined it would be a hell of a lot worse if he did know his best friend was infatuated with his ex-girlfriend. If anything were to happen between you and Changmin, Sunwoo would be outraged for certain. But maybe that was what he deserved. He’d lost the right to an opinion on your life when he tried to get back with you by sleeping with you when you were drunk. Although perhaps falling for his best friend was a little far…

You leaned your head back against the glass of the subway train, sighing as your mind replayed the memory of Changmin’s breathless expression as his hand gripped his manhood. You kind of wished it would stop, not wanting the embarrassment of getting so worked up in public, but you just couldn’t tear your thoughts away from it. After your newfound revelation, you were getting dangerously close to imagining what had been happening before you walked in, and what sort of things he might have been thinking of doing – you nearly missed your stop in your dazed state but thankfully the announcement pulled you out of your thoughts and you rushed to the doors just in time to hop off before they closed and the train sped off into the distance, away from you and your insurmountable dilemma.

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Taglist: @lovelymultiwrites @shiberrysan @m4rshm4llow @softforqiankun @sktbzc0re @staysstrays @softyfor-sweaterpaws @glxwingstar @chiefturtlebonkghost @faiirybread @lolibaaae @younggwingss @sunqnew @winterbeartaehyungbestboy @mx23 @bbangsoonie @seokgyuu @ateez-babygirl

Please send me an ask to be added to the taglist! 🌸

[sergeantsporks]

Hey could you do Hunter getting getting injuries treated at the owl house? Like some hurt/comfort. If you want to write a non compliant Hunter that’s be really cool but thanks so much! I just love your owl house fics 🦉🪶

<3 Thank you!

Hunter yawned, the tip of his staff dipping through the air. He pulled himself back up. Just a little further until Bonesborough, and then he could make a pit stop, take a little nap, or at least grab some coffee. He rubbed his eyes. Okay, so maybe he should stop taking quite so many missions. But since he’d returned with the titan’s blood, Belos had been so pleased, and he wanted to keep that going, and obviously there wasn’t anything huge he could do, but if he kept taking all of the little missions, that would probably keep him in a good spot, right?

Hunter shook himself as he started to drift off again. “Bad,” he scolded himself, “Stay awake.”

He heard the sound of wingbeats behind him, and he twisted back. A griffin. Great.

Hunter dove to avoid the bird, but it chased him, shrieking. Probably a new mother. Well, he didn’t intend on being baby food.

Hunter swooped and swerved to the side, just barely dodging a swipe of claws.

If he’d just been a little more alert and less sleepy, he probably would have been able to see and avoid the tailstrike.

As it was, the griffin’s tail caught him right in the chest, knocking him off of his staff.

Hunter screamed as he tumbled through the air, clawing for his staff. His palisman fluttered out of his pocket, grabbing the back of his tunic in its claws and frantically flapping its wings.

It didn’t help much.

He slammed into the top branch of a tree, all of the air leaving his lungs with a whoof as the tree branch cracked under the force of his fall. The world blacked out.

When Hunter came to, it was because everything hurt too much for him to stay out. He groaned. His head felt dizzy, light, and everything ached—but especially his left leg, which throbbed painfully.

Hunter managed to pry his eyes open to see the ground, still far below, his staff too far beyond his reach, and his palisman lying dazed a few branches below.

“Ah!”

Hunter twisted to look up, biting his lip as the movement made his whole body scream in protest. He was hanging upside-down, his left foot caught between two branches. Hunter’s stomach heaved. Feet were… not supposed to bend that way.

Hunter strained to pull himself up and grab the next branch, but the shift made a wave of pain sweep up from his broken foot, and his vision went spotty.

Hunter relaxed, breathing heavily. Okay. This was… this was fine. He could get out of this.

Somehow.

Xxx

“Going to the library for some books, bye, Eda!”

“Uh-huh, yeah, books, sure, say hi to bossy-boots for me.”

Luz raced out the door and down the path, humming to herself. She tripped over a stick, and stumbled forward a few steps, looking back.

Wait.

Luz scooped up the coven staff she’d tripped on, glancing around. “Where…”

A rustle in the trees made her look up to see a very familiar white cloak and golden mask in the trees. Hunter was stuck upside down, and she suppressed a snicker.

“Need some help up there?”

“No! Go away, I’m fine!”

Luz tucked the staff in her belt, climbing up the tree and sitting on a branch next to him, scooping up Lil Rascal on the way. The trail of broken branches above Hunter indicated a pretty long fall. “Uh-huh.” She tugged off his helmet. “Can you even see out of this thing?”

Hunter swiped at her, and then yelped. “Ow! Go away! I don’t need your help!”

Luz examined the branch his foot was caught in. Oh, ow, that looked painful. “Hang on, I got this.”

She slapped a little plant glyph on the tree, and it responded to her, forming a little shelf underneath Hunter. Luz snapped the branch his foot was caught in, and he fell with a little oof to the tree shelf she’d made. Luz climbed down below him, taping a fire glyph to the bottom of the shelf and breaking the shelf, hitting the fire glyph so that it slowly lowered him to the ground.

“I said I didn’t need your help!”

Luz swung down next to him. “You’re welcome.” She held out his staff. “Hey. I know you’re mister independent or whatever, but the Owl House is literally right down the road, and you’re never going to make it back to the keep on your own, so why don’t you just come home with me, and we’ll fix your foot?”

Hunter snatched the staff back, struggling up to his feet and leaning on the staff, keeping his wounded foot up. He looked awful—besides the obvious foot problem, the dark circles under his eyes were so dark they looked like bruises, and his knuckles were white on his staff. “I said I’m fine. I jussssst… need to get to… town.”

He managed to hobble a couple of steps before he fell again, yelping.

“Wow. That’s just sad.” Luz hauled him up, slinging one of his arms around her shoulders and turning around. “Come on, let’s get you fixed up.”

“I doooooon’t… need…”

Hunter struggled weakly against her, but then gave up, going limp, his eyes sliding shut. Luz dragged him along. “Whoof—hey—wake up, you’re heavy!”

Lil Rascal cheeped in her pocket, flapping out and shifting into its staff form, hovering so that Luz could sit Hunter on top of it.

“Trrrrrraitorrrrr,” Hunter slurred, his eyes open just a crack.

Luz pushed him back towards the owl house, pushing open the door with her foot.

“HEY EDA!” she called, “CHANGE OF PLANS FOR TODAY!”

Xxx

Ow. Ow. Ow.

Why did everything have to hurt so much?!

Hunter opened his eyes, staring up at a ceiling.

Wait.

Where was he? He glanced down, the familiar weight of his armor gone. Replaced by a T-shirt that said ‘bad girl coven’ on it

“OOOOOOoooooooooooooooooooo, you’re awaaaaaake!”

Hunter yelped, punching the weird bird face. “Augh!”

The bird… worm… thing… drew back. “Ow! Geeeeeeze.”

Hunter sat up so fast he nearly blacked out again. His foot was stuck in a heavy cast, healing patches on it. “Where—oh, no-!” he swung his legs over the side of the couch. “I can’t—I can’t be here, I—”

Xxx

Luz came thumping down the stairs with more healing patches in time to see Hunter try to get up, and then immediately fall back with a groan.

“Ow—ow—ow—ow—”

Luz poked her head over the couch. “Hello!”

Hunter groaned. “Just kill me now.”

Eda stuck her head out of the kitchen, where she was cooking up more explosive potions. “Did I hear that we’re killing the nerd?”

“We’re not killing anyone.” Luz smacked a healing patch on Hunter’s forehead. “Pain patch!”

He tried to get up again, then hissed, sinking back. “I—ow—I can’t—”

“Your foot is broken, Hunter, you can’t go anywhere.” Luz put another patch on his face. “There. That should make it stop hurting.”

Eda snorted. “You know too many of those have a sedative effect, right? They use sleeping nettles to make them.”

Luz twisted back to look at her. “Whoa, really?”

Eda nodded. “See for yourself.”

Luz looked back down at Hunter, whose eyes were already drifting shut. He yawned, glaring at her. “What did… you…”

“Heh. Whoops. Sorry.” Luz squinted at him. “When was the last time you slept, anyway?”

“I don’t—couple of days, I don’t know.”

Luz slapped another pain patch on him. “I take my apology back, GO TO SLEEP!”

Xxx

“Aw, look at him.” Eda poked a sleeping Hunter in the face. “Y’know, he’s actually kind of adorable when he’s not trying to kill us.”

Luz peeled off one of the old healing patches that had lost its magic, applying a new one. “He can be nice. He needs a friend.”

Eda snorted. “Luz, he’s a coven member. I’m sure he has plenty of friends back with all the other Belos-ites.”

“I don’t think he does.” Luz sat on the arm of the couch. “He seemed kind of lonely, like he has no one to talk to. I mean, he’s the head of the coven—who’s he going to talk to that isn’t treating him like their boss?”

“Whoa, hey, there, Luz. He’s fun right now, when he can’t move, but don’t forget that he’s dangerous—he beat the two of us pretty handily, held his own against Kikimora, and Amity just barely got out of her fight with him, and that was when he was stressed out of his mind. I’m not saying he can’t be nice, or that he isn’t lonely, but just… watch your step, okay?”

Luz nodded. “I’ll be careful, Eda, I promise.”

Her mentor gave her a thumbs-up and ran back to the kitchen as smoke billowed from the door. Luz spun Hunter’s helmet in her hands, slipping it on. “Ugh. How does he wear this thing all of the time?” She tugged it back off, setting it down.

“Dooooon’t touch that.”

Luz jumped. Hunter was watching her through bleary, half-closed eyes. “Oh, hey.”

“Hey yourself,” he mumbled crossly, “Why can’t I move?”

Luz winced. “I miiiiiiiight have put a few too many pain patches on you. But you were really hurting!” She poked his shoulder. “Can you feel that?”

“Quit that!”

Luz stuck her tongue out at him. “Eh. Hey, did you know that half of your ribs are broken?” I think your armor probably protected you a little bit, but how high did you fall from?”

He blinked sluggishly. “I don’t know—high.”

“Man.” Luz fidgeted. “Hey, uh, Hunter? Where’d all of those scars come from?”

Hunter closed his eyes again.

“Hey! I know you’re not asleep, Hunter!”

He opened his eyes just a little bit. “They were accidents,” he grumbled, “Satisfied?”

“Accidents?”

“Yeah. Accidents.”

“Even the claw one? What was that an accident of, accidentally antagonizing a bear?”

He closed his eyes again. “Something like that.”

An uncomfortable silence fell over them, and Luz sighed. “Okay. Hey. I’m sorry. I won’t poke into your personal life anymore.”

He opened one eye. “Really?”

“No,” Luz admitted, “I’m totally going to keep poking into your personal life. But… you don’t have to answer. If you really don’t want to. Oh, hey, you thought the glyph combos were cool, wanna see my new one? Of course you do.”

Luz scribbled down a plant and fire glyph in a circle combo and squeezed it in her hand. A whip made out of fire stretched out, and she cracked it. “Neat, huh!”

“You just lit the floor on fire.”

Luz yelped, stomping on the fire. “Go out, go out, go out!”

Xxx

Hunter snorted, watching Luz struggle to put the fire out, then winced as the snort made his ribs ache. The pain patches must be wearing off.

Luz put out the fire and started chattering about how the glyph combos worked, and how folding origami could make the coolest things.

Hunter drifted off again, still groggy from the patches (and yes, okay, fine, from the all-nighters, too). When he opened his eyes again, it was dark. One single ball of light floated in the middle of the room, sending off a dim nightlight.

Night?!

Oh—he was so late—he would be in so much trouble—maybe he could pretend he was still out doing missions?

Hunter started to sit up, then fell back with a groan. Ow, his ribs.

His palisman chirped sleepily, untucking its head from its wing to blink at him. Someone—probably Luz—had propped his broken foot up with pillows and given him a blanket.

I need… to go back…

But it was warm and comfortable here, and he couldn’t move anyway, and his foot wasn't going to be better for a while, and his eyes were already drifting shut.

But maybe… maybe I can stay a little longer.

[its-nebula]

Locked Room Lovin'

Rantaro x Fem!Reader

Warning: NSFW

Thank goodness that your day was almost over. You couldn’t wait to rush out and go home, take a load off. Working in a library might not be that difficult, but it sure was repetitive. You were just so incredibly bored, and now it would be your off day. You yawned as you started to do your closing activities, namely, checking in all the books that had been returned, earlier in the day.

You scanned every bar code that you saw absent-mindedly, thinking instead about how you would be able to collapse on your bed and sleep as soon as you walked through the door.

The library was nearly empty at this time of night; go figure, it was 8:30 on a Saturday. The only people still looming around were the usual book-worms that would more than likely be gone by the time the lights turned off. You’ve worked at the library long enough to know and recognize some of them by name, though you rarely ever interacted with them.

“Okay, S/O! I’ll see you Monday afternoon, I’m getting out of here.” Your boss told you, and you politely nodded. “If you need something, don’t call. My kitties need attending to, and especially Mr. Whiskers, he’s been feeling a little frisky lately.”

“Riiiight....uh, see you Monday.” You waved to her, and she sashayed out of the library doors. Not long after she exited, the other people in the library started to exit as well. 9:00 was growing near, and you couldn’t wait until you were the only one left. After the last person you saw bid you a good night, you sighed of relief. All you had to do was put the books back in their respective places, and you could begin true relaxation.

Humming loudly to yourself, you pushed the book cart around, knowing exactly where each and every one should go. 

“GAH-!” You jumped in surprise as you saw a green haired gentleman sitting down in one of the beanbags, his nose stuck in a book. He seemed to be focusing pretty hard, until he glanced up at you. You recognized him as Rantaro, and he took off the headphones he was wearing. 

“Rantaro, you s-scared me.” You held your chest, chuckling lightly. “I thought there was nobody else left in the library.”

“I see that it’s already 9:00. Guess I’ve overstayed my welcome.”

“Oh, you’re fine! You can probably stay here until I’ve finished up.”

“No, no, I wouldn’t want to intrude more than I already have. Besides, I think I’m done for tonight anyways.” He started to get off the bean bag, stretching his legs in the process. He ran a hand through his hair, then looked at you. “I could help you put those up, if you so desire. I wouldn’t want you to stay longer than you have to.”

“Oh, Rantaro, you don’t have to do that!”

“It’s really no problem, Miss L/N. I need something to take my mind off things. Besides, we wouldn’t really want you to overwork those pretty little fingers of yours, would we?” He didn’t wait for an answer as he grabbed about half of the books that were left on your cart.

“I...suppose not.” You were honestly too tired to argue, and plus an extra hand never hurt.

The two of you put the books away, and surprisingly, he didn’t even need your help. After all was said and done, he looked at you with a smile on his face.

“That wasn’t too bad, right? If it’s not too much trouble, can I ask for one favor?”

“Knock yourself out.”

“That room behind the counter, that’s where you keep the books you’re about to give away, right? Would you mind if I took a couple of your fairytale books?”

“Go ahead.” You shrugged, searching for you card so that you could lock up for the night. “Be careful, it automatically locks from the outside.”

“I’ll be careful.” He turns around and disappears into the room, as you finally find you keycard. Happily wearing it around your neck, you went into most of the other rooms in the library to turn the lights off. As you went back to where the storage room was, you could see Rantaro excitedly picking up books; more than he looked like he could carry. He had one foot in the door, trying to keep it open.

“Do you need some help?” You offered, holding the door open for him. 

“Thanks, I couldn’t-” He wasn’t able to see past the large stacks of books, and he collided with the wall, causing him to fall, with books of varying sizes raining down on him. He rubbed his head, laughing nervously to himself. You couldn’t help but laugh as you offered a hand to help him up, moving away from the door.

As you started helping him pick the books up, you couldn’t help but hear the sound of the door shutting behind you. Your eyes widening, you quickly whipped around to see that the metal door had completely shut. You wiggled the useless doorknob in an attempt to get it open. “Shit! I think we’re locked in!” You exclaimed, slamming yourself against the door.

“Woah there, calm down.” Rantaro grabbed your shoulders, stopping you from ramming your body against the door. “Can’t you call your boss?”

“My boss... is busy.” You rolled your eyes. You looked away defeatedly, covering your face with your hands. “She’s going to kill me when she finds us in the morning...”

“Hey now, Miss L/N, what about the authorities?” 

“She would absolutely kill me if there was a big gaping whole where the door should be when she gets here. She doesn’t get here until 10:00, and she’d yell at me because she’d be held liable so early in the morning, and...”

“Okay, calm down.” He put a hand on your shoulder, and all you could do was slide down along the wall out of embarrassment. 

“I’m sorry Rantaro, now you’re going to be stuck here with me all night... I feel so bad...”

“At least I’m stuck here with the Librarian’s pretty assistant.” He smirked at how you seemed to get flustered, sitting down next to you. “Well, Miss L/N we might as well get to know each other.”

“...you can start by calling me by my first name.” You looked at him. “S/O.” It could be worse, you realized. If you were stuck with anybody, you were glad it was the admittedly hot guy you’d regularly seen around the library.

“I’m sure I don’t have to introduce myself by now. The name’s Rantaro Amami.”

You yawned, rubbing your eyes.

“Well, I’m not already boring you, am I?”

“No, no! It’s just that I’ve been here since like 2, and your voice is just very calming to me.” The words just came out of your mouth, and you realized what you said. “Sorry! I didn’t mean for that to sound weird!”

He chuckled. “I get that a lot, it’s fine. If you need to sleep, I totally understand.”

“No! I’ll be fine for a while, I swear.”

“Mhmm~... Well, suit yourself.”

The next couple of hours or so were exclusively spent on you and Rantaro getting to know each other better. The two of you shared anything that you could think of. You told him all about how you came to be a library’s assistant, and how you’ve been working there for a quite a while. You told stories about your boss, who was increasingly diving more into “crazy cat lady territory” everyday. Rantaro shared stories about his adventures that he went on. He listed off all the countries he’d visited, and the countries he had left to visit. He solemnly explained the story about his sisters, and how he just wanted to find them so badly.

“And... that’s why I come to the library every day. Read up on the cultures and traditions of the countries I have yet to visit and any things I should be cautious of. That’s what I do.”

“I admire how determined you seem to be.” You told him with a reassuring smile. You squeezed his shoulder, and he looked back at you with a sad gaze. “I’m positive you’ll find them one day.”

“Thank you, S/O. Talking to you...it actually helps a lot.” He looked away. “Well, I’ve run out of things to talk about now. Any suggestions?”

You shrugged, resting your head on his shoulder. “It doesn’t matter to me. Being in here with you... I’m strangely comfortable. You’re such an easy person to talk to.”

A few minutes of silence passed. The two of you just enjoyed each other’s company, before you felt Rantaro’s hand on your chin. He turned your head towards his, and before you could process what was going on, the two of you were entangled in a sweet kiss. You closed your eyes, lazily kissing back and wrapping your arms around his neck. 

The two of you stayed like that for a couple minutes, before you pulled apart. Your faces were within centimeters of each other, and you could hear him quietly laughing.

“What’s so funny?”

“I guess I have a confession to make. I’ve wanted to do that to the Librarian’s pretty assistant for a while.”

Your eyes widened. “You have?”

“Call it a stupid crush, but there’s always just been something about you, S/O. I’ve always wanted to get to know you on a more... personal level.” He runs a hand across your thigh, and you giggle sleepily. You connect your lips with is once again, your fingers getting tangled in his now messy hair.

You positioned yourselves so that you were sitting on top of Rantaro’s lap. You deepened the kiss, enjoying how his hands were squeezing your hips, trying to pull you closer towards him. As sleepy as you were, you were enjoying this immensely.

His lips parted from yours, and kisses peppered your jawline, all the way down to your neck and your collarbone. He held you in place as you drowsily giggled from the sensation. You could feel his breath against your skin as he stopped, and you couldn’t help but noticed his hands had reached a little higher on your back. “Are you sure you want to do this...? I can tell you’re tired and all, and- oh.”

Rantaro watched as you slipped your shirt off, throwing it to the side. Admittedly, he’d been getting a little tired too, but if anything woke him up, it was that. He smirked at you, taking the opportunity to take his own shirt off. “Well, I do love a woman who knows what she wants.”

“Shut up and kiss me...” You groaned before connecting your lips to his once more, not hesitating to stick your tongue straight into his mouth. You smiled in the kiss as his hands reached up to undo the straps of your bra, slipping it off with ease. You bucked your hips into his, causing him moan out loud. You could feel how hard it was getting, and it turned you on so much.

He bit his lip whenever you threw your bottoms to the side. His hands were free to explore your body now, and he took full advantage of that. He felt how soft your breasts felt in his hands, he felt how sensitive your nipples seemed to be. He did the honor of sucking on one of your buds, while his hand traveled to your lower half. Already, he could feel the heat radiating off you. 

He took off his jeans and boxers, and you could feel just how hard his dick was in your hands. “Why don’t you put those pretty little fingers of yours to work?” He asked breathlessly. You happily obliged, stroking him and watching as eyes rolled into the back of his head, not able to contain the groans that escaped his lips. Leaning in, you sloppily kissed his neck, and all he could do is grab tightly onto your ass, refraining himself from cumming. 

Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. He practically rushed and fought to get your undergarments off, and repositioned you so that you were sitting on top of his lap, himself lined up at your entrance. Rantaro held onto your hips, and he licked his lips as he asked for one last confirmation. “S-S/O... are you sure this is what you want?”

“Rantaro...” You whispered into his ear. “Give it to me.”

He guided you so you easily slid onto his throbbing erection, and you kissed him as you moaned into his mouth. You two got into a slow , but steady rhythm, as you moved in a way that made him repeatedly hit exactly the right spot. He bit your lower lip as you moved back and forth, up and down.

“You feel so damn good...” He closed his eyes. You noticed he was even drooling a little between every grunt and moan. You were about to reach your own climax, as evidenced of the increasing volume in your sounds.

“Rantaaaro~” You whined, throwing your head back. “I’m gonna-” You didn’t have time to finish your sentence as you had your climax.

Rantaro’s body stiffened as that happened, especially as your walls tightened around him as he could feel himself pulsating. Squeezing his eyes shut, he let out a long sigh as he reached his orgasm as well. Letting go of your body, he collapsed on the floor. You slowly crawled beside him, feeling happy, satisfied, and more than ever, exhausted.

“You should probably sleep now.” He whispered to you as he reached for his shirt. “I’ll wake you up if anybody comes.”

“Mmmm~” You put on his shirt, beaming drowsily at him. He wrapped his arms around your waist, kissing the back of your neck. “Thank you for an amazing night, S/O.”

You woke up to Rantaro’s light snoring, as he was still holding you close. You were about to go back to sleep, but you noticed the door was slightly cracked open, and there was a note next to you.

“Dear S/O,

Next time, consider calling before you indulge in intercourse with one of our loyal patrons!”

Rolling your eyes, you smiled knowing that you would almost certainly be yelled at as soon as you walked through the door. But that was a problem for the future. For now, all you wanted was to go back to sleep in Rantaro’s loving arms. And that’s exactly what you did.