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goodlucktai · 3 years ago

Note

(I feel like I should finish your prompt first but. These ones are so good....feel free to ignore if you have too many asks but 29 or 33 with chocobros...?

PROMPTS LIST

33. “Are you SURE I can’t punch him in the face?” “Yes.” “What if I just break his nose a little?”

ik i just did this one for natsuyuu but...........chocobros

They're somewhere in Duscae, near enough to the coast that each breeze carries a hint of the sea, on another errand for another stranger to scrape together enough gil to eat tonight.

They've stopped at the last little roadside cluster of shops before the countryside stretches far and wide and wild, stocking up on what meager supplies they can afford.

Noctis has never lived this way before. He's never gone to bed hungry before. Neither has Gladio or Ignis, for all their world-weariness and the general practical knowledge and common sense they walk around with that far surpasses Noctis' own.

Ignis can budget with the best of them, and Gladio is willing to eat literally anything at any time, but Prompto is the one who gets it.

He chats at length about all the times he's had to get creative with pasta or rice because it was all that was left in his pantry. Back in high school, when he could only work part-time. When someone should have been taking care of him, and instead he was left to figure out how to stretch a tiny budget much farther than made sense.

"Come on, Iggy," he said once when they were out shopping, half-laughing. Like he thought Ignis was joking. "Fresh produce? We've got like a hundred gil between the four of us and we're totally out of restoratives."

And Ignis paused, and glanced sidelong at him. He put back the crisp, flowery vegetables and pulled out his little notebook and asked for suggestions instead. It took Prompto a few minutes to convince himsef that Ignis was taking him seriously, but now they like, bond over canned fruit.

"I'm gonna kill this catoblepas with my bare hands," Gladio says with feeling, leaning against the car. "I'm so godsdamned sick of pasta. Don't tell Iggy I said that."

Noctis rolls an energy drink between his hands absently, brow furrowed. It's tricky business, and he's not very good at it just yet, but home-made elixirs save them a ton of gil. He feels guilty when they have to spend their money on something he should be able to do himself.

"I'm telling him," he says without missing a beat. "He'll never forget, and he'll give you shit every single time you make cup noodles from now on, forever."

"I can't stand you," Gladio tells him seriously.

The bell above the door of the convenience store rings brightly, and Noctis glances up to see Ignis and Prompto walking out looking a lot more cheerful than they did going in.

Gladio's face does something very subtle and specific when he sees them, there and gone in a second, before Noctis can pin it down and figure it out.

"What are you two chucklefucks up to?" he calls over. Ignis immediately narrows a disapproving stare at him, but Prompto beams.

"I got a commission, sort of!" he says.

"A commission?" Noctis parrots, sending the energy drink back to the Armiger.

"Sort of?" Gladio adds.

"While we were checking out, the store-owner saw my camera, and seemed really into it," Prompto says. "Since, you know. It's unique."

Noctis does know. The digital camera hanging at Prompto's side has been with him since Noctis first bought it for him three years ago. He would rebuild it every so often, bowed over a collection of impossibly tiny parts spread out carefully across a dish towel at the kitchen table in Noctis' apartment. To call it unique is a bit of an understatement.

Gladio frowns, sensing where this is going a split-second before Noctis does. "And?"

"And he offered me money for it! Like, more than it's worth probably. A lot more."

"I don't see how that could be possible," Ignis says smoothly, leaning through the open window of the Regalia to put the shopping bag in the backseat. "Since your camera is clearly priceless. Which is what I explained to the man."

Noctis relaxes, glad that Ignis and Prompto have bonded over shopping to the point that neither of them want to do it unless they can go together-- because if Prompto had been in there by himself, he 100% would have sold his camera. He would have hated to do it, but he would have done it. It's like he thinks he owes his friends something just for letting him exist.

"Good looking out, Specs," Gladio says gruffly. Prompto waffles a bit, looking torn between pleased and embarrassed. Noctis decides to rescue him.

"What commission, though?" he asks.

"Oh, right. Well, he was kind of bummed about the camera, but he asked if he could see some of my photos, and Ignis said we had time-- "

If it were literally anyone else, Noctis thinks, up to and including and especially the Actual Crown Prince, Ignis would have said they were in a hurry and not to show off.

"--and he seemed really impressed! With the photos! I told him we were going to take down a catoblepas, and he asked why, and I said for some cash, I mean, clearly," Prompto adds, gesturing at the four of them and their general road grime. "So he, ah-- well he's never seen a catoblepas up close before, and he said if I could get some good pictures of it, he'd pay me for them. He gave me a figure, and it's, like, better than some of the jobs I've done for Vyv."

He's delighted, clearly. He likes feeling like he's pulling his own weight. Noctis is always so relieved when Vyv calls, not because of the inherent payday, but more because it puts this light in Prompto's eyes that Noctis would easily climb a hundred volcanic mountains for.

"Damn, Prompto, at this rate you'll have funded our whole trip," Gladio says. He doesn't ruffle his hair anymore, because Prompto actually hates that, just sort of scrunches his fingers through it instead. Prompto doesn't hate that at all. It's adorable.

Sometimes in the early morning, when he and Noctis are the last to drag themselves out of the tiny camper, they'll do their affirmations together:

"Gotta be our best today," Noctis will say, and Prompto will put on this absurdly determined expression, bed hair hanging into his eyes and cheek still creased pink from the pillow.

"Gotta get those hair scrunches," he'll reply gravely.

"What else did he say, Prompto?" Ignis says in a pleasant tone of voice that Noctis hasn't trusted since he was seven years old.

"Um! Nothing. Nothing worth repeating, anyway, you know." He is looking completely away from them now, an avoidance tactic if Noctis has ever seen one. "Woah, is that really the time? We better get going if we wanna catch that cow before it gets dark!"

He turns toward the car and runs into Gladio's arm instead.

"He suggested that Prompto's talents would be put to better use in different company," Ignis says, his voice carrying clearly over Prompto's whine of 'nooo, Iggy, let it go.' "He said that if Prompto ever got tired of our lifestyle, his door would be open."

Ah, Noctis thinks, followed by, ouch?

"Oh, fuck that guy," Gladio blurts. "Let me go talk to him."

"No!" Prompto clings to his arm, throwing all his weight into keeping Gladio in place. The Shield, who could bench Prom's entire body weight in one hand, lets himself be detained anyway and pretends to be annoyed about it. "Ignis, why are you causing trouble right now?" Prompto says frantically.

"Transparency is important in a relationship," Ignis replies.

"There's transparency and then there's causing trouble. Noct, tell them."

"I think Gladio should go talk to him," Noctis says immediately. But then Prompto looks betrayed, and it makes Noctis feel awful. "Ugh, okay. Okay. We're leaving. Ignis, Gladio, that's an executive order."

"Are you sure I can't punch him in the face?" Gladio grumbles.

"Am I-- yes, dude!" Prompto half-laughs nervously. "Very sure!"

"What if I just broke his nose a little?"

"Then that would be treason, I guess, cause Noct just said no."

It's with the standard amount of bickering and noise that they climb into the car, the top rolling up over their heads as it starts to drizzle. Ignis pulls smoothly back onto the cracked asphalt road and reaches over to turn the radio on; a peace offering. From the backseat, Noctis can see the corner of Prompto's smile, framed by a flyaway piece of yellow hair.

They live this way now, but they didn't always. Noctis used to have the run of the whole Citadel, had his own penthouse apartment, grew up dodging banquets and lavish dinners. It's not like he likes sleeping on the ground and having nothing to eat. It's not like he chose to lose his home.

But it could be worse. It's not a bad way to live, just Noctis and the people he loves best and these countless hours together. There's a lot of hard work and sometimes he goes to bed hungry but he knows he'll remember these days forever. He knows he'll miss them.

"Hey," he says, over the quiet sound of rain on the windows and the catchy synth-pop crooning out of the speakers. "Don't ever sell your camera, okay?"

Prompto says, "I mean, I wouldn't ever want to."

"Seriously," Noctis presses. He doesn't want to let it go. It feels important. "Your pictures are-- they mean the world to me, Prom. I can't even tell you."

His friend looks bewildered. He's half-turned in his seat, and his eyes stray to Gladio, then jump to Ignis, then settle back on Noctis. Whatever he's looking for, he seems to find it, because he smiles.

"Okay, weirdo," he says, "one fully-documented roadtrip, coming up. I won't leave anything out."

Noctis is counting on it.

#final fantasy xv #ffxv #chocobros #polyship roadtrip #prompto argentum #ignis scientia #gladiolus amicitia #noctis lucis caelum #my writing #prompt #owletstarlet #ffxv fic #irrelevant but i listened to willow by twsift on repeat while writing this so thats like. the vibe

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taegyuun · 4 years ago

Text

biology class

genre: fluff, acquaintances to lovers, highschool au

word count: 2.5k

pairing: jungwon x reader

requested? yes

notes: i hope you like this i really love college/school concepts and i was super excited to write this, also i had to search up topics for biology in highschool so if this seems too easy/hard for a bunch of 16 year olds y’know why. also yes i know in korea they have uniforms but for the sake of this they can wear their own clothes. I've been writing this all day, literally since the second i woke up until now which is 19:05 pm. I'm extremely proud of this so i hope you enjoy! texting is in bold.

yang jungwon.

the campus’ ‘it boy’. everyone knew, loved, hated, or couldn’t decide whether they wanted to be him or with him. people definitely had mixed opinions on him but it was mainly the boys who gave him the glances of evil.

they were jealous.

the kid was known for being easy going, naturally sweet to everyone and academically smart. but one thing that did tick the boys off though, were his talents. sure, there were many boys and girls in school that were nice and pretty and smart but somehow, yang jungwon just had to have it all.

not only could he sing, he could dance too.

not only could he be sweet, he could turn and give the cold glare too.

he was the definition of a perfect boy... and that’s exactly how you got involved with him. let’s just say you were at the brink of being infatuated with him.

but how could you not be? even though you two barely spoke together, when you did - even if it was only about the topic of your class - you felt like he was genuinely interested in what you had to say and it never felt forced. you always felt like he cared; no matter how boring the subject you were talking about was. it had you hooked in a second.

unfortunately, jungwon was popular. infuriatingly popular. and with popularity, the swarm of love letters and beautiful fangirls and fanboys also showed up in the picture. the thoughts of dating him disappeared quicker than you could say, “hello!” to him. it disappointed you, yes. however, who were you to dwell on some highschool boy? sure, he's not exactly the type that you’d quickly forget about the second you graduate but he also never made a real impact on your life other than some minor crush.

well that was up until your biology class.

“y/n and... jungwon.” the sound of mrs. lim’s voice boomed through the filled classroom and knocked you back into reality at the sound of your name. you look up from your hands in confusion and then rendered what she said - you were paired with jungwon for your biology project... that was worth 65% of your grade.

you weren’t exactly worried about getting everything done on time - you knew he would definitely cooperate and do what he was meant to do, but what you were worried about was messing up in front of him. i mean, messing up in front of your crush is the worst second hand embarrassment, no matter how nice they are. you put your thoughts aside and looked around the classroom, trying to find the boy, only to find him already looking at you with a smile and a small wave. you wave back before looking down at your fingers, picking at the skin near your nails. oh boy, you were in for a ride.

as the bell rings, you start to pack your things away, only to be stopped by a finger tapping on your shoulder.

“hey!” you almost feel like you’re in one of the cheesy romcoms, feeling like you had to cover your eyes from how bright his smile was.

“hi jungwon, what’s up?”

“i was wondering how we’re gonna do the project?” you thought about all the possibilities and topics. you could do it at his house, your house, the library and you couldn’t wait to decide on the subject. a small smile appeared on your lips at the thought of working with him.

“uh, what about i’ll give you my number and then we can decide after school?” you words were slightly rushed, as you tried to escape his presence as quickly as possible and get to your next lesson - wanting to hide away from the chilling glares his fangirls were giving you - which you were soon to be late to. he then pulls out a piece of paper and hands it to you before pulling his bag over his shoulder and sending you a pretty smile,

“remember to text me.”

you look at the piece of paper, a few numbers written on it in black ink. you dwell over the thought of having to text him first, but you knew if you didn’t, the project wasn’t going to get done. you thought over it a bit more and realised that your grades were far more important than some stupid crush. you pull out your phone and text a simple,

you: hi it y/n!

you put your phone down, expecting to have to wait a while for a reply and got back to picking at your food with your fork. instead, you're surprised to hear your phone vibrating on the wooden table, a notification with his name already on screen. you place down your utensil and look at the text.

jungwon: hey! so what do u want to do for the project? i think we should decide the topic first before figuring out where we want to do it

you were glad that he was pretty straightforward and didn't beat around the bush, also that he genuinely wanted to get the project done and that it wasn't you doing all the work like the previous times you were partnered up with someone.

you: what do u think about the musculoskeletal system

jungwon: omg i was gonna say lets do smth to do with the skeletal system

jungwon: ok well then the topic is settled where do u wanna do it

you smile brightly at the easy agreement instead of having to scratch at your head for hours to get the other person to agree upon a topic.

you: i mean we can do it at mine if youre ok with that but the library is also an option

jungwon: yours it is then ;)

you look down at your phone in surprise at the “;)”, not expecting him to be so bold.

you: great! tmr after school?

jungwon: cant wait :)

throughout the whole day at school, you kept glancing at the clock, anticipating the final bell to ring so you could meet your project partner at the school entrance and walk home with him. you shake your head at the thought, trying to remind yourself that it was just a project - nothing else. the loud sound of a bell ringing brings you out of your trance, as you excitedly hop out of your seat. “woah, y/n... what's got you in such a good mood? its only lunch, are you that hungry?” you turn around and see jungwon standing with a hand on his bag strap and a few other boys behind him. you lightly laugh and say, “oh I'm just excited to get started on the project... hi guys.” you wave slightly at the boys stood behind him and hear a chorus of “hi y/n!!” following and excited waves.

“ill see you later, alright?” you slightly smile as you start to walk away. your eyes widen at the yelling and hooting behind you as you look over your shoulder and see the rest of the boys shouting and punching jungwon’s arms, one of them yelling out a, “you scored! she's a cute one!”

you smile slightly to yourself and lift your head higher, walking towards the cafeteria.

finally.

the final bell rings and you pack your things into your bag, sighing in delight at the thought of finally being able to leave the building. you walk out the class and instead of being able to walk straight out like usual, you see jungwon standing off to the side and gently waving at you. you raise a brow at him, but continuing to walk over anyway. “what are you doing here? i thought we were meeting at the entrance?”

“i- um, i don't know i thought it be better if i waited for you here, you don't mind right?” he smirks knowingly, already aware of your small crush on him. he didn't find out through you, of course not. you were good at acting neutral around him - not even showing an ounce of adoration. however, one thing you weren't good at hiding, were your thoughts during your sleep. you two shared a free class together, and most of the time you spent it studying or sleeping. you didn't exactly say your thoughts loudly, but jungwon sat close enough to hear some of the things you had to say - him being a common topic of your dreams. he wasn't dumb, he could figure out that you liked him. but he also was a tad stupid - still not acting upon his already existing feelings and asking you out.

thankfully, you being his partner in the project boosted his confidence and had allowed him to create the ‘perfect’ plan of asking him to be your boyfriend.

“i-uh, yeah! i don't mind. shall we go?” you say, slightly flustered. he nods in responses and mulls over what he was going to do. screw it. he grabs your hand and interlaces your fingers together, “so which way to yours?” your eyes widen at his action, looking at him with your mouth dropped open, before getting out a chocked, “uh, t-to the left.”

“lets get going then?” he starts walking and softly smiles down at you. you subconsciously squeeze his hand and smile back, walking hand in hand with him, steps oddly in sync. you hear a “hell yeah jungwon! get it!” and a loud, “ow!” followed after. you turn around and see jay holding his head in pain and sunghoon stood behind him with a smug smile on his face, throwing a thumbs up to both of you. you turn back around and look up at jungwon, seeing his cheeks tinted a light pink and a shy smile residing on his lips. you feel a soft tug at your hand followed by a clearing of his throat.

“come on, lets go.” you follow his step, hands still interlaced as you two walk in a comfortable silence, once in a while telling him which direction to go.

“so what do you think we should start with?” you look up from the ground and see him looking at you, awaiting your response. “oh uhm, i think we should just start with getting all the info into notes and from that start making the project. i think we should leave the creative aspects like making it look nice and what not till the end because that doesn't really impact our grades so it isn't that important.” you feel his thumb rubbing you hand in soft circles and feel yourself getting warmer, completely forgetting his hand holding yours - it just felt so natural. he hums in agreement before speaking up once again.

“I'm honestly so glad i got partnered with you, especially with this being such an important project. every time i had to work with other people who weren't my friends it felt like i either had to do all the work or scratch to the depths of my brain to get them to agree on a topic and on how we should make it work.”

“i totally get that!” your voice slightly raises in happiness at his words, “i feel the exact same way. every time i get partnered with someone, i always have to do all the work and it got so infuriating always having to credit them for something they never did or the bare minimum.” you take out the key from your pocket and twist it into the keyhole, opening the door and hearing the pat of your cats paws coming closer to the door. you both take your shoes off and walk to the kitchen, your cat following behind and waking in between your legs.

“i didn't know you had a cat?” jungwon's voice forces you to look behind and find him to be crouching down and petting howl. “well, mr. yang, there's a lot you don't know about me, he's called howl by the way,”

“like howl from ‘howls moving castle’?” you smile brightly, happy that he got the refence. “yeah! i love that movie, its my comfort film,” you bring two glasses of water with you as you start to walk upstairs, jungwon following your steps. you both get to your room, opening the door wider to let him inside too.

“woah.”

“huh? oh uh, ignore everything - its not the prettiest room,” you say, slightly embarrassed at all the posters and random clutters on your shelves, “no, no! i love it, it reminds me a lot of my own room. its very fitting to you, y/n.” he smiles at you and you simply smile back, handing him the glass of water and hearing a quiet, “thanks,” in response.

“well, should we start?”

“god! finally!” you both groan, falling back onto your soft bed, sighing at the ceiling. you two had been working since the second you got inside your room until the sun had set; your parents even managed to get back from work by the time you were only one third through your note gathering. you spread your arms on the bed, stretching as you did so. your hand then hits something soft and silky. you look to your left and see jungwon smiling brightly as your hand rests on top of is head.

the whole time you two were working on the project, you both subconsciously stayed close to one another, as if you were just drawn to the other with an invisible force. even when you took a food break for 20 minutes and were sat opposite one another, your feet kept kicking the other, smiling and laughing quietly with warm cheeks.

now you laid on your bed, your hand resting on top of his head and staying there with no complaints from the boy.

“i like your outfit,” you observed the comfortable fit he was wearing, oversized black hoodie with some blue text in the corner and loose fitting black trousers. jungwon looks down at what he was wearing before looking back up and smiling, eyes slowly opening and closing, “youre tired, aren't you?” he then opens his mouth, trying to deny your statement but gets cut off by a yawn. he blushes before softly nodding his head and getting more comfortable on your bed, unknowingly bringing you closer to him, eyes already closed.

“take a nap, ill wake you up when it gets late.” he nods once again, barely conscious as he already falls into dreamland, arms wrapped tightly around you. you feel yourself heating up, both from his body heat and at his actions. you try hard as you possibly can to not squeal too loudly as you brush his hair away from his forehead and press a soft kiss in place.

a tiny smile forms on his lips as you get more comfortable and start to drift away yourself. right before being sent away to your dreams, you felt a gentle kiss being pressed to your forehead in return.

he may have not followed his ‘perfect plan’ of becoming your boyfriend but you both got 100% on the project... and a new found love.

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azuregiggles · 3 years ago

Text

The Bold and The Honk: Ler!George Lee!Karl

With a brief Ler!Quackity, Ler!Dream and Ler!SapNap

ALL PLATONIC

Author Notes: Sorry this took a bit longer than I thought it would! But it's finally here!!!

Words: 3314

WARNINGS: Swearing, I think that's it let me know if you think something else should be a warning.

SUMMARY: George is in a rather big Ler mood and is desperate to wreck someone. Lucky for him there are four others in the Feral household and so his search for a lee begins.

It was a rather ordinary day in the feral boys household each man was doing something rather independently. Dream was taking his fifth nap of the day though it was only noon. SapNap was editing in his office. Quackity was practicing making a few different dishes for a cooking stream they all had planned for later in the week and Karl was assisting him. That left George.

He was supposed to be working on his most recent video for his seemingly neglected YouTube channel but he just couldn’t get up the momentum he needed in order to focus. His mind was far too busy putting him in a very interesting mood. He watched his own fingers tap away at the keys and couldn’t help but imagine the squeaks and giggles it would make rather than its ‘click clack’ if it were a person beneath his fingers instead.

He leaned back in his chair, fingers running through his already messy hair. This only made him think of Karl and how he’d melt if someone lightly scratched his head. A fond smile crossed his lips. Living among the four other men he’d grown accustomed to the various and constant forms of affection. If any of them wanted a specific affection such as to cuddle there was always another Feral around to ensure they were helped and happy.

Gogy’s mind wandered back to tickling and how much it meant to the five of them. If ever one of them was in need of cheering up or just a smile this was a much favored method to get the crew back into a chipper mindset. Occasionally one of them would even ask to be on the receiving end and the friends would oblige with no questions. George was in the opposite mood however. He wanted to be on the giving end of things right now. He felt as though he needed it.

George was rarely one to be in a lee mood. He was often neutral until one of the others was under attack, then he’d join the offensive. Right now though, he was far from neutral, he was completely in a ler mood and ready to wreck someone. He trudged his way down the hall to Dream’s room and poked his head in the door. The green hooded man had clearly just woken up, his hair was tousled and his eyes were struggling to stay open. George tapped lightly on the door. Looking up Dream groaned jokingly “Ewwww what do you want?”

“I need you to help me with a certain mood I’m in?”

“What mood exactly?”

George stepped into the room until he was next to Dream “I’m in a ler mood and I really wanna tickle someone. You’ll help me right, Dreamy?” He poked his friend in the side.

“Absolutely nahahat! I just woke up! Go awahay!” The green one giggled and gave George a playful shove towards the door. George moved over to him again and ruffled his already messy hair with a grin.

“Fine sleepyhead, but don’t come to me with your next lee mood. I won’t be nice about it.”

“Whatever just get outta here dumbass.” Dream chuckled, swatting the offending hand away.

George decided to leave and continue his search for his next victim. Next he checked with Sap who was content at his desk. He leaned over the man’s shoulder. “Saaappppp” he whined.

“Geeoorrrggggeeeee” Sapnap mockingly whined back. “What’s up Gogs?”

“Can you help meee?”

“With what? Be specific.” Sap chuckled, eyes on the screen. George placed his hands on the ravenette’s sides, who tensed and smiled.

“I wanna tickle someone, like wreck them.”

“I’m editing go tickle Dream!” He playfully swatted Gogy’s hands away.

“He’s just woken up and won’t let me.”

“Then try Quackity.”

“He’s cooking.”

“Then tickle Karl, you know he loves it.” Sap giggled and pushed his friend towards the door “We can’t all procrastinate Gogs, I need to finish this video.” The door closed on him, Sap had returned to editing.

Editing had its own kind of fun but nothing would entertain the streamer the way his friends’ reactions did. SapNap was the proudest of the bunch, always holding out on laughing for as long as possible and will deny any compliments till the bitter end. Would have been an excellent target.

Dream was a screamer, his constant wheezing and endless sass made him an interesting lee to say the least. He always claimed to hate being tickled but the word ‘stop’ seemed to leave his vocabulary at the smallest poke. Unfortunately he was still drowsy and as such off the list.

Quackity was an involuntary fighter, the kind you have to pin a bit if you don’t wanna get punched or kicked. His hysterical laughter is always filled with a sailor’s worth of swearing no matter how much fun he’s having. George didn’t feel like getting potentially injured though. Another lee bites the dust.

Karl, on the other hand, was pure gold. The most ticklish, easily flustered by compliments and teasing but also not too embarrassed to admit that he loves the affectionate bonding that was tickling. His laughter was always full of cute noises like hiccups and snorts. But above all, since he enjoyed it, he was the one of George’s friends who could last the longest. Perfect.

Sir Not Found made his way to the basement, the Feral Cave as they all called it. With large sofas for streaming console games together and a large kitchen for cooking streams like the one Quackity was currently preparing for. Karl was presently attempting to flip an omelet and failing miserably.

“Oi! It’s a wild Gogy! In my kitchen!? The fuck is this!?” Quackity announced George’s arrival.

“Hey George! Wanna watch me pop off? I’m the omelet flipping champion.” Karl boasted and Quack rolled his eyes.

“You’ve dropped that same egg blob like five times, good thing no ones gonna eat it, they’d die on the first bite.” Quack told him.

George, who hadn’t said a word, walked into the kitchen and behind Karl. He slipped his arms around his friend’s waist and rested his chin on his shoulder.

“Uhhuh George?” Karl’s tone was nervous and giddy. “Everything okay?”

George decided not to beat around the bush “I’m in a terrible ler mood. Lemme tickle you?” He gently poised his hands on Karl’s sides.

Karl froze and his cheeks turned red “Wh-What? How can you just ask that?” The room was already filled with his nervous giggles. He tensed in George’s hold, anticipating an attack. “B-Besides I’m helping Quack right now.”

“Oooh Karl’s in trouble Gogy’s in his bold arc!” Quackity teased. “You can have him Gogs, he’s a terrible sous chef anyway!”

“Hey!” Karl protested.

“Pleeaaasssseee Karl?” George tightened his hold, effectively hugging the other man who slightly melted into his arms.

“Oh fu-honk, okay. Please just-“ he was cut off as he was promptly thrown over George’s shoulder and carried towards the couches. His sweater paws now covered his face. He let out a yelp as he was plopped onto the sofa.

“Damn Gogy, you’re down bad. Must be one hell of a ler mood. Karl you’re so fucked” Quackity called from across the room.

Karl was far too giggly to respond. He covered his face and squirmed as George sat on his waist. “I don’t know where this mood came from. I just really needed to wreck someone. I tried Sap but he’s editing and told me to ask Karl because Karl. Loves. Being. Tickled. So. So. Much.” If there were any doubt that Karl was blushing before there was no room for argument now, with each word George poked Karl in the ribs, sending him into a giggle fit full of squeaks as his face flushed red.

“Sahahap is duhuhumb.” Karl offered.

“Mm-hm, and you’re ticklish! Now where’s that adorable laughter Karl? Please don’t keep me waiting. Your face has gone red you’re like a raspberry!” George reminded him by tasering his sides, earning a squeal. “Any specific requests from our little web star i-Karlee?”

Karl was in tease hell. When did George come up with a nickname like that!? His blush began to spread up to his ears and he made a series of flustered sputters as he tried to form words. He shook his head no.

“So I can just go for it?”

Karl nodded.

“Do you want me to start slow or wreck you? Your face is getting darker, how cute! Is that red Quackity? I need help confirming since I’m colorblind” George wiggled his fingers in the air.

More sputters left Karl’s lips. When did Gogy get so good at teasing? “I-I do-don’t” he squealed again as his sides were tasered once more.

“That’s not an answer~”

“J-Juhuhust” Karl tried to think through his giggles. He would die if this teasing continued. Unsure if he could handle being wrecked immediately he chose what he thought was the safer option. “Slohohow fihihirst”

“Aww~ anything for you i-Karlee!” George started by lightly scratching along his friend’s lower belly.

“Nahahaha!” Karl covered his mouth and snorted.

“Oh~ how adorable, you sound just like techno! Do it again!” George scratched around Karl’s navel.

“George NOHO!” He squealed and kicked his legs out behind the ravenette above him. Trying his best to not snort again he grabbed a nearby pillow and used it to muffle the noise.

“Now now, don’t hide from me Karl. You’ll only make it worse~” he teased and pinched along Karl’s lower rib, just enough to make him let go of the pillow. Karl snorted again as George returned his attention to his navel.

“Oh? Does this little piggy have a ticklish button? This one here?” He poked his finger inside and wiggled it around.

A small cackle resounded from the brunette “NAHAHA dohohoHOHOnt!” He whined and squirmed left to right.

“I believe the rhyme goes whee whee whee whee all the way home Karl” wriggling digits spidered up Karls sides and ribs, right to his armpits. Arms snapped down as bubbly laughter filled the air. “Do you think this is a good home for them?”

“OHOHOUT! G-GEHEHET OUT! NOHOHAHAHA” Karl bucked up and down trying to wrench the attacking fingers from his hallows.

“I’d love to but it seems as though I’m stuck here. What am I to do Karl? You’ve trapped me.”

“SLOHOHOW DOHOHOWN” Karl pleaded and snorted once more his face scrunched.

“Alright but you’ll have to lift your arms if I do~” Gogy warned him but slowed down to give his friend a breather.

Very hesitant arms lifted to free George's hands. As promised Gogy removed his hands from Karl’s armpits and began scanning for his next target. Karl took deep breaths and closed his eyes as he giggled and rubbed away the phantom tickles.

“Would you like to play a little game i-Karlee?”

“Whahat kind ohohof game?” He blushed at the nickname.

“It’s simple really, you keep your arms up as I count your ribs. If you snort I start over, If you bring your arms down that’s ten seconds of tickling on your worst spot.”

“You’re evil”

“That’s not a no Karl~”

“Sh-shut up”

“Is that a yes?”

“I… I mean-... It’s more of a…”

“Arms uuup~ up, up ,up.” George coaxed him and smirked.

Karl’s arms betrayed him as he felt his head rest on his hands, his arms up and behind his head. He knew he’d never made it through this counting game before without his arms coming down. He knew it was a trap and yet he couldn’t help the anticipatory giggles that poured from his mouth.

“Wow you must be in a lee mood if you’re being this obligatory. I’m honored.”

Karl avoided eye contact, his blush returning.

“Awww~ I knew he’d be willing to help you George” Sapnap’s voice came from the kitchen where he was now helping Quackity clean. “Karl loves to be tickled.”

“Is that what all the noise is?” A still half-awake Dream fumbled down the stairs and flopped onto his beanbag chair that was just out of view of their stream setup. Karl’s hands moved back to covering his face.

“It certainly is Dream! He’s helping me with my Ler mood.” Gogy supplied.

“Aww~ How sweet of him. Oh my god, look at how red he is.” He scoffed, “Since he loves to be tickled so much it’s a win win. Having fun Karl?” Dream chuckled and watched the two from afar. The glint in his eye made Karl nervous again.

“Now where were we?” George returned his attention to a very flustered Jacobs “Ah yes~ Put those arms back up, please.”

A tiny squeak and the raising of arms was all Gogy needed to begin. He started at the top rib, knowing that, when it came to his ribs, Karl’s were more ticklish the lower they were. Karl gave a surprised squeal and began to wiggle around, his arms already threatened to drop.

“Oooonnneee~ stay still for me okay i-Karlee?”

“i-Karlee? Really George” Sap laughed “that’s so dumb.”

“Twooo~ such a pretty laugh”

“Karl seems to like it~” Quackity chimed in.

“Threeeee~! You’re changing color again. Is it magic?”

“Aww does little Jacobs love his new nickname?” Dream added to the verbal assault.

“SHUT THE HONK UP” Karl was losing it. All of his friends' teasing was getting to him far more than the actual tickling. “Plehehehease! You buhuhunch of nihihimrods! I’m gohohonna dihihiie”

“That’s not very nice Karl!” George smirked as he continued counting ribs silently “you should apologize~”

Karl shook his head no. He knew what he was getting into.

“Oh? Feeling sassy all of a sudden?”

“You gonna take that from a lee George?” Dream instigated, ignoring the slow rise of butterflies in his own stomach. The tickling stopped.

“What are you dohohoing?” Karl gave nervous glances to both of them. He’d expected to be wrecked, not ignored.

“Apologize or you’ll be punished” George told him.

“Try me” Karl taunted.

“Oh I’m not going to tickle you into apologizing, quite the opposite actually.”

“What? How does that-?”

“If you don’t apologize no one gets to tickle you for a week. Even if you ask.”

“That’s just evil Gogy you know Karl can’t go a day without a lee mood” Sapnap added.

“Holy shit, Gogy’s villain arc!? Ooohhh you better apologize Karl~” Quackity watched them with excitement.

“Well what’s it gonna be?” George looked at Karl again “say sorry and I’ll wreck you properly” wiggling fingers hovered over Karl’s lower ribs.

“O-okay I’m sorry.” Karl hid his face again “please tickle me” he squirmed in place. A flood of adoring comments from the other four men filled his ears. Karl’s face returned to a lovely shade of red as he sputtered and giggled.

“Aww he even said please, now you gotta ruin him good Gogs.” Quackity laughed.

“I intend to. You three help me a bit?” George ignored Karl’s giggly protests “don’t tickle him, just tease.”

The trio grinned and gathered around. Sapnap was behind Karl, arms around his waist. Dream was on his beanbag he’d dragged over beside the couch. Quackity was laying on the back of the sofa. George, in front of Karl, positioned his hands on the brunettes knees.

“Ready Karl?” George asked him in a teasy tone but wanted to make sure he wasn’t crossing a line.

Pulling his hood over his eyes, giggling frantically, Karl nodded. A shriek was caught in his laughter as it began. George kneaded the spot above each knee and scribbled beneath them whenever the chance arose. He grinned at the bubbly laughter filled the air, mixed with snorts and cackles. Now this was the kind of lee interaction he’d needed.

“Awwww, how cute your knees are so sensitive~” SapNap cooed directly into his ear.

“How is your laughter so sweet Karl. I literally don’t understand how it can be so endearing” Quackity chimed in from his perch. George was currently kneading Karl’s sides making the younger squeal in lighthearted protest. Tears of mirth streamed down his cheeks.

“Better not let the fans see you blush like this Karl~” Dream chuckled “They’d lose their shit. Imagine Karl can’t open social media without see everyone saying how adorable he is~”

Another shriek pierced the air as hands squeezed Karl’s hips on rapid fire. Karl leaned back into Sapnap to avoid bucking away from the touch. Sap chuckled and blew gently on his ears, not touching him but it tickled Karl just enough to make him scrunch up his shoulders and kick out his legs a bit.

All the while Dream and Quackity continued to ruffle Karl’s hair and showered him with teasing words and praise. “Aww was that a snort Karlos~”

“You look like you’re loving this Karl~”

Karl’s struggling car to a stop and he melted into the sofa and Sap’s embrace. His mind was really foggy but he knew he was happy. He felt safe even in moments like this because he knew his friends would never take it too far. Three people teasing as one wrecked him physically was a new but welcomed experience for the lee. After another couple of minutes the tickling was only a gentle skittering across his neck, making him melt as he caught his breath,

“I think I’m satisfied, how about you Karl? Did you get your fill?” George checked.

“Uhuhuh just ohohone more tihihing?” Karl giggled shyly.

A flood of awes filled the air, making him hide his face once again.

“And what would that be?~” George paused for an answer.

“R-Raspberries” A familiar heat arose to his features.Due to keeping his face in his sweater paws Karl missed the mischievous grins and looks that passed between the other four. A silent plan formed.

“What!? Gogy forgot your raspberries? How rude, don’t worry I’ve got your back Karl.~” Sap said into his ear. Karl knew exactly what that tone was and barely had time to speak before a raspberry was blow onto his neck by Sapnap.

“SAHAHAP WHAHAT THE HEHEHELL?”

“Oi! Look what you’ve done Nappitus!” Quackity was using his chef voice again “You’ve upset Karl and made ’im sweah! You should know his favorite spot is right ‘ere!” With that he blew a raspberry upon Karl’s ribs.

“QUAHAHAHCK STAHAHAHAP” Karls shriekd but made no attempt to escape.

“You’re doing it wrong it’s riiight here~” Dream took in a huff of air.

Karl’s hands shot down from his face just in time to see his roommates’s lips reach his side “DREHEHEAM NOHOHOOOO- ACK” His whine was cut off by a yelp and a flood out loud, bright laughter. Dream smirked and continued.

“Now, now we should all know that Karl’s belly is his favorite~” George had to speak loudly to be heard over the symphony of sensations that were currently driving poor Karl insane. Karl squirmed and sputtered half hearted protests as George leaned down and took in a large breath. The vibrations sent a shock through Karl’s core and left him laughing silently. A chorus of raspberries on his four worst yet favorite spots was causing him to feel exhausted. Noticing this his quartet of lers each gave him one last raspberry before helping him rub away the phantom tickles. They all hugged him and showered him with praise for holding out.

“Thahahahat was mehehean” Karl giggled and hiccuped in the pile of an embrace.

“Was it too much?” George asked, a bit worried. Karl blushed and shook his head no.

“Did you love it Karl~?” Dream chided. Karl nodded, sweater paws covering his face.

“Awwww~ Karlos~” Quackity hugged him a bit tighter.

“Sh-shut up” Karl couldn’t hide the grin in his voice and the group laughed together. They stayed piled up for a while but eventually Dream and Quackity wandered off leaving Sapnap stranded under George and Karl who had managed to fall asleep on top of him.

#mcyt tickle #lee!karl #ler!dream #ler!sapnap #ler!quackity #ler!gogy #ler!george #ler! george not found

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contemplativepancakes · 3 years ago

Text

number one wiener eater

written for the @lambertbigbang, with art by the amazing @geralt-of-riviass here! Make sure to check it out :D (also a ginormous thanks to @hoomhum for betaing and helping me work out the extremely complicated logistics of bathroom stall sex). Read on ao3 here!

When Lambert loses the hot dog eating contest that he’s won for the past three years in a row, there’s nothing he would love more than to find who beat him and punch them in the face. Unfortunately, he was too busy throwing up to know who the winner was.

All he knows is that he’s kind of maybe in love with the guy who held his hair while he puked. (8k, explicit, lambden, cw: vomiting, semi public sex)

Lambert’s gonna puke. He keeps stuffing the buns in his mouth, but they’re like glue, and his jaw refuses to work. He swallows, but nothing goes down. He takes a desperate gulp of water and sputters on it. Jerking his head up to glance at the countdown clock, he silently curses as he sees he has seconds left. He shoves what he can into his already full mouth, raising his hands up as the judge shouts for them to stop.

He takes a second to glance down the long line of other competitive eaters, but a wave of nausea hits him, and he looks at the ground, determined on keeping everything down. He keeps chewing and working to swallow as the judge takes away the plate to weigh it. Another comes down the aisle casting a critical eye at their tables, making sure that not too much food went onto the ground or table instead of their mouths.

It’s blazing outside today, and sweat coats Lambert’s face. Acid burns up his throat, but he chokes it back. He’s not a lightweight.

Lambert’s won this contest the past three years in a row, and he’s pretty sure he has this one in the bag. It’s no Coney Island Hot Dog Eating Contest, and he’s no Joey Chestnut, but he’s at least good, and the prize money is decent enough. He’s had his eye on an inflatable jacuzzi—for the women, Geralt. And the men—and he’s excited to make his maybe ill-advised purchase.

He waits for them to announce the winner, bouncing his foot on the ground to give himself something to focus on besides the rising wave of whatever’s churning in his gut.

When the judges stand up on their small podium, a hush falls over the small crowd gathered. Lambert directs his attention to them, but a bright burst of nausea hits him and sends sweat dripping down his back, and he doesn’t manage to hear anything after that.

He pukes.

“Oh jeez, are you okay?” a voice comes from somewhere on his left.

“Fine,” Lambert grunts, wiping his mouth and grimacing at the burning taste left in his mouth. Definitely more pleasant as the hot dogs were going down than up.

“Are you sure? You seem shaky.”

“I’m fine,” Lambert grumbles, and finally looks up at the guy, who puts his hands up in surrender.

“Just checking.”

He starts to heave again, and he reaches for the pail thoughtfully provided for them by the contest sponsors.

“Yep, you sure seem fine!” the other man chirps.

Lambert retches one more time, and the man hands him a napkin. Lambert takes it suspiciously, wondering if this is a reporter or something. He’s not sure why someone would want to deal with this.

The man hands him a bottle of water next, and Lambert purses his lips as he twists the top off. He squints at him. “Who are you?” he finally asks.

“Oh, sorry. I’m Aiden.”

All that does is give Lambert a name, not answer his question, but he doesn’t comment further, just offers his own name in a grunt.

“Oh, I know who you are.”

“You a fan?”

“You could say that,” Aiden says with a grin, and Lambert rolls his eyes.

“They didn’t tell me competitive eating gets you groupies.”

Aiden gives him a full throated laugh at that, and Lambert curses himself when he catches himself thinking that it sounds kind of nice. Those are exactly the kind of thoughts he doesn’t want to be having. Especially not for some weirdo that stopped to what, hold his hair while he puked? Who does that? If he’s not careful, he’s going to end up in an ice bath one kidney short.

Lambert wipes his mouth with the back of his hand again, surreptitiously checking his breath. It’s not peaches and cream, that’s for sure.

Lambert sets the pail down and faces Aiden, trying to flat out dislike him at how white his teeth are, how perfectly coiffed his dark curly hair is even in this heat, but he fails as Aiden continues to be nothing but nice to him, making small talk as Lambert tries to pull himself together.

After Lambert’s fully sat up instead of half way hunched over, expecting another vomiting wave to hit him, Aiden straightens up, too. “Well, I guess I’ll be seeing you around, then, huh?”

Lambert’s confused for a second, because he’s never seen Aiden before, but he decides he’s going to take this as a good sign. Or maybe a bad sign for the fate of his kidneys, whatever the case may be.

“I would hope so,” Lambert settles on, deciding that sounds like a good mix of hopeful and not at all like he’s desperate for a little human contact.

Aiden gives him a little half wave that has no right to be as adorable as it is when a grown man does it, and Lambert frowns and tamps down the feelings rising in his gut. No, he’s not going to call them butterflies. He’s not a twelve year old; he doesn’t get crushes, and he certainly doesn’t get butterflies in his stomach.

Lambert eventually manages to get up and walks away from the contest, sadly bereft of the prize money. He missed the announcement of the winner while he was busy throwing up, but he caught the disappointed looks some of the spectators were casting him, so he knows it isn’t him. He doesn’t even want to know who it was. He’ll just dwell endlessly. His stomach is still roiling as he clambers into his car, but at this point, he’s not sure why.

It’s what he ate, he’s sure.

Lambert slams his kitchen cupboard door shut. “I don’t want to talk about it, Geralt,” he mutters.

Geralt always wants to hash every detail of his competitions, and while normally Lambert is happy to indulge him, he just doesn’t want to talk about this one, okay?

It has everything to do with him losing and absolutely nothing to do with Aiden. Nothing at all.

“Okay, fine,” Geralt says, raising his hands and backing up. “No need to get so grouchy about it.”

Lambert scowls. “I’m not grouchy.”

“Right. Prove it.”

“Fine.” Lambert crosses his arms.

Geralt grins. “Return my library book for me? It’s due today, and there’s no way I’m making it over to that side of town today, I’m slammed.”

“Yeah? You’re so slammed you had time to come here and harass me?”

Geralt reaches forward to ruffle Lambert’s hair, and Lambert knocks his hand away. “Not harassment. Just brotherly concern. Have you seen the wikipedia page for competitive eating? And you expect me not to worry?” Geralt scoffs.

Lambert rolls his eyes. “Stop being so over protective, mom.”

“Deal. If you return my book.”

Lambert rolls his eyes, but he takes the book. He looks down at the title, then back up at Geralt, raising his eyebrows. “Really? Twilight?”

“I didn’t even think you knew how to read, Lamb,” Geralt deflects.

Lambert huffs. “I don’t know if I want to embarrass myself by returning this, but whatever. If anyone asks, it’s my sister’s book. You owe me.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m the one in the lead on favors.”

“I doubt it.”

Lambert makes a show of taking the book between his pinched thumb and forefinger, Geralt rolling his eyes all the while. “I know, I know. You hear vampire, and you can’t help yourself,” Lambert says.

Geralt shrugs before clapping his hands on his thighs. “All right, I better get going. I have to pick Ciri up from school.”

“And you couldn’t have gone after to the library with her?”

“She has martial arts.”

Lambert sighs. He can help Geralt out this once, he supposes.

Geralt leaves and Lambert eyes the book setting on his coffee table. He guesses he might as well go now, and he can poke around and see if there’s anything that catches his eye. He hasn’t been to the library in nearly a year, but it might be a nice change of pace.

Lambert clambers to his feet, stopping to grab his wallet and keys before walking out to his car.

He hits every red light between his apartment and the library, and his good mood has nearly evaporated by the time he gets there. That changes when he walks in the door and sees who’s sitting at the front desk. “Aiden?” he doesn’t squeak.

Aiden looks up from where he’s typing furiously at a computer, and his face breaks out into a wide grin that makes Lambert’s stomach flip. “Lambert!”

Lambert looks down at the book he’s carrying and immediately hides it behind his back. Aiden quirks an eyebrow at him. “Got a return?”

“Yes, well, I mean, no—”

Aiden stretches out a hand, and Lambert resigns himself to his fate. He gives Aiden the book. Aiden barely glances at the cover, just gives Lambert a small smile and scans the barcode.

“I’m returning that for my brother,” Lambert can’t stop himself from saying.

Aiden glances back up at him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Aiden nods once. “Likely story.”

Lambert splutters and then stops when he sees the shit eating grin Aiden’s giving him.

“Hey, all reading is good reading,” Aiden says. “I’m not going to rag on you.”

“It’s my brother’s,” Lambert mumbles again, but he shakes his head in defeat.

“Let me know if you need help finding anything.”

Lambert would normally rather die before asking for help, but he thinks it might be okay if it's Aiden he’s asking for it from. He wouldn’t have offered if he was busy or something, right?

The organ harvesting alarms start going off in Lambert’s brain again, but he dismisses them. Someone so nice surely isn’t going to cut anything out of him. And even if he does, Lambert would bet Aiden would give the good drugs, so he wouldn’t even feel it. He seems nice like that.

Yeah, that’d be okay.

Lambert moves farther into the library, going between the stacks where no one can see him. He’s not sure what books he should get to try and recover the remaining shreds of his dignity.

He whips out his phone and searches long classic books. He scrolls down the page a little frantically until he lands on War and Peace. He’s heard of that before. He’s pretty sure it’s a well regarded book. What if Aiden thinks he’s a pretentious dick? Okay, maybe he is, a little, but he doesn’t want to give him that impression right off the bat. Lambert’s already ruined his first, and second impression, he doesn’t want to mess up the third.

Lambert makes his way down the aisles, squinting as he looks for the Ts. He pulls out the book with a flourish after he finally finds it, weighing its impressive heft in his hand. He cracks it open and finds it to be suitably dense. He makes his way back up to the circulation desk, where Aiden’s scanning in returns from their self service slot.

Why didn’t Lambert just use that? He could slap himself. Well, he guesses he wouldn’t have seen Aiden if he did that, so at risk of sounding like a creepy stalker, he’s glad he came in.

Lambert thunks the book down on the counter. Aiden looks at it, then up to Lambert, a grin spreading across his face. “Just a bit of light reading for you then?”

Heat rises to Lambert’s cheeks, not sure if he’s being mocked or not. He shrugs. “It’s been on my list.”

Aiden holds a hand out, his eyebrows raised expectantly.

“Uh…”

“I need your library card,” Aiden says patiently.

“Right. Um, let’s see here.”

Lambert hasn’t been to the library since the last time he came with Ciri to pick out movies they were going to watch while she stayed with him, and he pulls out his wallet. He holds it open to thumb through it, wondering why the fuck he feels the need to carry so many gift cards around that he’s never going to use. Foil crinkles as he goes through everything, and he resolutely does not make eye contact with Aiden.

It’s no use, though. “You’re not supposed to carry those around in your wallet, you know,” he says conversationally. “Wears holes in them.”

There’s a quip on Lambert’s tongue about using them often enough that he doesn’t have to worry about that, but he bites it back. He’s not a creep who would say that at someone’s job.

After another painful ten seconds, Lambert gives up on finding the card. He thinks he remembers them giving him a miniature one for it, too, so he looks on his key chain instead, filled as it is with at least twenty different discount cards and various baubles Ciri’s made for him.

“I can tell you’re a fine connoisseur of our goods,” Aiden comments.

“Shut up,” Lambert grouses, finally finding the little card and setting the whole thing down for Aiden.

Aiden scans it, keys and cards jingling against each other, and frowns. “It’s expired,” he says apologetically.

Lambert wishes the floor would open up and swallow him whole, especially as Aiden fingers the rooster on it that Eskel gave him after he came out. He should get around to cleaning off his keyring.

“I guess I know you really were returning that book for your brother?” Aiden offers.

Despite himself, Lambert smiles. “I guess you do.” Lambert swallows. “So what do I have to do to renew it? I think I might have to start coming here more often.”

Aiden gives him a tiny grin, and they get the card renewed, then the book checked out. “I’ll be expecting a report on how it was when you return it,” Aiden says of War and Peace, tucking the receipt into the book.

Lambert’s not sure if he had been entirely convinced he was actually going to read it, but he finds himself saying, “You bet.”

Aiden flashes him a smile that Lambert would best describe as feral, and as he walks out to his car, Lambert wonders what exactly he’s gotten himself into.

Later that night finds Geralt back on Lambert’s couch. “I thought you were so busy,” Lambert complains.

“Well, Ciri’s at her martial arts class now and your apartment was close. What do you have to eat?”

Lambert rolls his eyes and resists the urge to shove Geralt’s feet off his coffee table. “Nothing for you.”

Geralt gets up to survey the refrigerator.

“If you put a finger on my burrito, I’ll end you,” Lambert threatens.

Lambert can practically hear Geralt rolling his eyes as he heaves a heavy sigh. “Do not drink out of the jug either.”

Geralt groans again. “Like you don’t?”

“Well, I’m the one who buys it. All you do is come over and eat my food like you don’t have any of your own.”

Geralt comes back to the couch after some muttering and putting something in the microwave. Lambert resists the urge to strangle him. When Geralt comes back, it’s with chinese takeout that’s been in the refrigerator for at least two weeks. Lambert doesn’t say anything.

He watches with a raised eyebrow as Geralt slurps down the noodles, mildly impressed at his stomach of steel. He’s always thought Geralt would be a good competitive eater.

When Geralt finally puts the chop sticks down and comes back up for air, he brightens and reaches into his pocket. “Here, I saved this for you.”

Geralt hands a folded up newspaper clipping to him, and Lambert scowls upon seeing the picture of the hot dog eating contest sign. He crumples it up and tosses it at Geralt’s head.

Geralt’s hand automatically comes up and bats it away, making it fall to the floor. “Jeez, I try to do one nice thing…”

“Don’t act like being nice was your motivation.”

Geralt gives him a cheshire cat grin. “You’re too easy to rile up, you know that?”

“Yeah, thanks a lot for that, shit lips. By the way, you’re welcome for taking back your book. I nearly got laughed out of the library.”

Geralt smirks at him. Fortunately for Geralt, there’s nothing for Lambert to throw at him again within arms reach.

“I see you even got a book. That’s some heavy reading,” Geralt says, a look of mock seriousness pasted on his face.

“Shut up.”

“That’d take you at least three years to read.”

“Shut up,” Lambert says again, putting his hands over his ears.

“Almost seems like you got that just to impress someone; I’ve never known you to have an interest in the classics before.”

Lambert looks at the book sitting on the coffee table and considers just braining Geralt with it. Surely a jury would be understanding that sometimes you just have to hit your stupid as fuck brother upside the head with a three pound book.

Not guilty, for sure.

Lambert snaps out of his daydream to look pointedly at the clock. “Exactly how long is Ciri’s class?”

Geralt checks his watch. “Shit, I gotta go.”

Lambert grouses as Geralt puts on his jacket and leaves his bowl on the table for Lambert. “I’m not a maid!” he shouts after Geralt’s retreating back.

Geralt flips him off and then blows him a kiss, leaving Lambert to wonder if he’s just broken a record for the world’s longest eye roll.

Lambert looks back to the book. He guesses he has nothing better to do…

Lambert makes it through the book much more quickly than he anticipated; once he gets past the dry as fuck language, it’s actually kind of interesting.

He’s excited but also dreading going back to the library. This time he should probably be better prepared when he goes in, so he doesn’t have to frantically flick through his phone hidden in the middle of the stacks trying to find something to check out that’s not going to make him look like an idiot.

He searches for something interesting sounding, but maybe something that’s not going to make Aiden laugh at him this time. Well, maybe he can make him laugh in a good way instead of making fun of him, Lambert muses as he scrolls through book titles.

And so, the next time when he goes to the library, he surprises a laugh out of Aiden when he slams A Treatise of Cocks and Hens onto the counter to check out.

“You into animal husbandry now?” Aiden snickers.

“I’ve been considering some laying hens,” Lambert says in mock seriousness. “Why, you got any advice?”

“Ah. Eggs, nature’s perfect food,” he says sagely. “I am sure that is the only reason why you’ve chosen this particular book.”

“Yep.”

Aiden grins. “Huh. Very interesting. Well, I’ll be expecting a report back. By the way, how was War and Peace?”

“Surprisingly not terrible.”

Aiden drums his fingers on the counter, scrutinizing him. “Huh.”

“What do you mean, ‘huh?’”

“A man can’t say ‘huh’ without being ruthlessly interrogated now? What is this country coming to?”

Lambert shakes his head at the dramatics and finally remembers to hand over his library card. Aiden scans it, then his book, a small smile still playing at the corner of his mouth. The receipt prints, and Lambert holds out his hand for it, but Aiden takes it and scribbles something down before tucking it in the book.

“Just...personalized service for our valued members,” he says with a wink.

“I’m not paying for anything; I don’t think you need to try that hard.”

“Are you complaining?”

Lambert shakes his head hastily. “Definitely not.”

Aiden slides the book across the counter to him. “Come back soon,” he says with a cheeky wave.

Lambert barely resists the urge to stick his tongue out at him, and where did that come from, but he manages to make it out of the library without making a total ass of himself. When he gets out to his car, he slides behind the wheel and takes the receipt out of the bag.

On it is a number, one Lambert hopes like fuck is Aiden’s and not just some cruel joke, and the words, Text me what you learned from this book. I want to learn all about it (;

Lambert traces his fingers over the word cock on the cover.

He can’t believe that actually worked.

When he tells Geralt the news, Geralt howls with laughter.

Predictably, Geralt is eating his food again, and is being absolutely no help in assisting Lambert with choosing the clothes he should wear on his date. He had somehow worked up the nerve to text Aiden, and after a week of sending waffling texts back and forth, they’re going to a bar together. Shit, Lambert hasn’t been on a date in forever.

“Calm down,” Geralt says around a mouthful of pasta from Lambert’s bed, watching his eyes dart back and forth around his closet. “Wear a button down,” he advises. “That’s respectable.”

“Not like I’m trying too hard?”

Geralt hums. “Maybe.”

Lambert scowls at him. “Why are you even here if you’re not going to help?”

Geralt points a fork to his bowl. “Dude, you made bolognese. Where else am I going to be?”

“Don’t you have a kid or something you need to watch?” Lambert asks, but it’s without heat.

“She’s with Yen tonight. I wanted a front row seat to this shit show, and they’re going to an opera or something. I don’t ask questions.”

“Wow, thank you for your enthusiastic support.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you care this much before,” Geralt observes.

“Yeah, well, he’s nice. I’ve never dated someone who’s nice before.”

“I can only hope he rubs off on you.”

Lambert nods. “We can only hope.”

Geralt throws a pillow at him. “Don’t be a pervert.”

“Hey! You’re the one who said it, not me.”

Geralt sets the bowl down, balancing precariously on Lambert’s bed and claps his hands over his ears. “I do not want to think about you doing any of that. You’re going to be 12 to me forever.”

“Geralt, you are six years older than me.”

“And?”

Lambert shakes his head as he pulls out a polo before discarding it.

Why the hell does he even have that? He wouldn’t be caught dead wearing a fucking polo.

In the end, Lambert settles on nothing too out of the norm from his typical style. He doesn’t want Aiden to get the wrong idea, and he’s sure Aiden won’t hesitate in making fun of him if he tries too hard. He wets his comb and runs it through his hair, but it’s really too short to stick up in odd angles, which is exactly the way he likes it.

He shoos Geralt out of his apartment as he leaves. “I can’t leave you unsupervised to poke through my things,” he says, and Geralt doesn’t even argue with him about it, which is highly concerning because that means it’s true.

Lambert’s heart is jackrabbiting against his chest as he walks out to his car. He gives Geralt a gruff goodbye before ducking into his car, plugging his phone into the radio and cranking the volume up. He tries to focus on the lyrics instead of the pounding in his chest that he can feel pulsating in his wrists. He scrolls through his songs until he finds something by Minor Threat so he can turn it up and drown out the rest of his thoughts.

He’s meeting Aiden at the bar, because Geralt told him it was weird to pick someone up on the first date, and that Aiden was an Independent Man, whatever that meant. He probably shouldn’t listen to Geralt.

He beats his fingers in rapid bursts on his steering wheel in time with the music until he gets there, and then he checks his phone to see it’s way too early to go in yet. God, he’s messing this up already. He scrolls through his social media feeds while he waits until his phone buzzes with an incoming picture. He clicks over to it, to see—himself, hunched over behind the steering wheel of his car. It’s taken through a window, and it’s sort of definitely mega creepy.

Aiden: you coming in, or do you just plan on sitting out there all night?

Lambert checks the time again and verifies that no, he’s still 20 minutes early. A small smile crawls across his face.

He gets out and walks into the bar, looking around. Aiden waves to him, and he’s sitting at a booth, not even at the bar.

“Wow. Classy.” Lambert comments as he slides in next to him.

Shit, should he have sat across from him? Aiden apparently doesn’t mind by the way he immediately presses against Lambert.

“Can’t believe I got you out of your academic setting,” Aiden smirks. “How goes the chicken husbandry?”

“I’m considering building a coop,” Lambert says on reflex.

“I can’t even tell if you’re joking.”

Lambert grins. “Only mostly. Don’t you think that would be cute, or whatever?”

“What, you in a frilly apron collecting eggs? Yeah, I could get behind that.”

Lambert’s face gets hot almost instantly. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I think it should be.” Aiden quirks an eyebrow at him in challenge, one which Lambert immediately cops out of.

“What do you want to drink?”

Lambert stands up with Aiden’s order and goes to the bar to get it, wondering what Geralt’s opinion on how the bill should be split is.

When he comes back, Aiden’s checking his phone, but he quickly sets it down when Lambert slips in beside him again.

“Just letting my friend know I’m not dead,” he says brightly. “I sent her the picture of you, and that’s already shady enough to be perfect for America’s Most Wanted, so I’d keep that in mind.”

Lambert snorts. “Noted,” he says, passing over the beer.

Aiden takes a gulp, and Lambert’s gaze doesn’t linger on how Aiden’s lips wrap around the bottle, not one bit.

Aiden sets the bottle down on the table with a clunk, liquid making its way dangerously close to the top, but none splashes out.

“So tell me about yourself, besides the fact that you eat too many hot dogs, read long books in the hopes of impressing librarians, and are blue printing a chicken coop.”

Lambert drums his fingers on the table and shrugs. “I’m not that interesting. And who said I was trying to impress you?”

Aiden shrugs and takes another drink of his beer, setting it back down and swiping a finger through the condensation. “Aren’t you?”

Lambert stands up abruptly. “Come on, pool table’s empty.”

“I think you’re going to have to show me how to handle my stick.”

Lambert groans and shoves at him. “That was so bad. That was terrible. I’m not rewarding you for that.”

Aiden grins at him, and they play pool, with Aiden exaggerating his cue handling the entire time. If Lambert has to watch him run his hands down its length one more time…

“What exactly are you angling for, here, hmm?” Lambert asks, sidling up next to him and nudging him out of the way so he can take aim for the cue ball.

Aiden shrugs. “Whatever you’re willing to give me.” He crosses his arms and leans back against the wall. “I’m easy.”

Lambert squeezes his eyes shut for a second at the mental image that provides before gulping. “I, uh, haven’t really been with anyone in a while. Might be a little rusty.”

Aiden crowds behind him and wraps his arms around Lambert’s waist. “Just like riding a bike,” he says into his ear.

Lambert leans down and hits the cue ball, knocking the black eight into the middle pocket. “Well, shit.” They both know he did it on purpose.

Aiden takes Lambert’s hand for a second, and Lambert has to make a conscious effort not to short circuit. “Meet me in the bathroom,” he murmurs before turning away, leaving Lambert to fidget uncomfortably. He knocks all the balls into the pockets and hangs up their cues, dithering a little to try not to make this too obvious. Jesus, he feels like he’s 22 again, only this time he’s doing it with someone he actually likes and not just to get a reaction out of his dad when he found out.

Lambert sets his hands on the pool table and takes a deep breath before heading to the bathroom. He walks in, noting that no, this isn’t a single stall, and anyone could walk on them. His heart beats a little faster.

Aiden’s at the sink washing his hands, and Lambert walks up behind him, mouthing at his neck and wrapping his arms around him.

“Took you long enough,” Aiden says, leaning back into him. “Come on.” Aiden tugs him into a stall and slides the lock shut behind them.

It’s a tight squeeze, two grown men in one tiny stall, and to be honest, it’s a little disgusting. Lambert leans past Aiden to close the toilet seat so he doesn’t have to look at the piss stains.

“Oh, I’m sorry, does that offend your delicate sensibilities?”

“A little bit, yeah.”

Aiden’s grin drops for a second. “You want to do this, right?”

Lambert tugs Aiden against him sharply and kisses him hard before pulling back. “Oh, yeah. Enthusiastically. Have you looked in a mirror lately?”

Lambert yanks Aiden’s shirt out of his pants, putting his hands on Aiden’s torso, enjoying the soft flesh and moving his way up until he can brush his thumb over Aiden’s nipple. Aiden leans back in to kiss him again, shoving his hands down Lambert’s pants where he’s growing steadily harder.

Aiden strokes him inside his underwear, and Lambert forgot how fucking good this feels. He still has one ear on the door, waiting for someone else to come inside the restroom. He’s not sure what they’re going to do if that happens, so he supposes he better move this along.

Lambert leans his head back against the stall door as Aiden jerks him to full hardness, their kiss turning into something uncoordinated and sloppy.

“Feel good?” Aiden murmurs.

“Fuck, yeah,” Lambert says, and his eyes get wide as Aiden drops to his knees.

Aiden pulls him out of his pants, finally unbuttoning them and relieving some of the pressure. Lambert winces as he looks down at the mystery stains on the floor, but Aiden’s unaffected. Lambert bites down on his lip as he looks down at Aiden, leaning forward to take him into his mouth.

“Wait,” he says, and his voice sounds far away. He fumbles for his wallet, thumbing through it to find the condom from the other day.

Aiden laughs and quirks an eyebrow at him.

“It’s a new one,” Lambert says defensively.

Aiden takes it from and tears it open, rolling it down Lambert’s length. “Good?” he asks, and Lambert eagerly nods.

Warm heat envelopes him, and he instinctively threads a hand through Aiden’s hair. Aiden seems to like that, and he starts doing something to the sensitive spot just under Lambert’s head that has him panting after a minute.

The door to the bathroom creaks open then, and Lambert tugs on Aiden’s hair urgently, but Aiden doesn’t let up, if anything, just increases whatever he’s doing down there until Lambert can barely see straight, let alone keep his noises to himself.

There’s the sound of someone unzipping themselves, and Lambert looks down at Aiden incredulously. Does this person really not notice them? Judging by the intensity of the stream they let out, Lambert’s guessing not.

Aiden brings his hand up to stroke the part of Lambert’s cock not in his mouth and keeps up the steady rhythm of his mouth. It feels incredible, tight wet heat around his cock, and Lambert’s concerned his lip is going to bleed if he keeps biting it this hard. A whine starts emanating from him as Aiden increases his speed.

The urinal finally flushes, and Aiden determinedly licks at the underside of Lambert’s cock, making him gasp. Lambert gives a little yank on his hair; he knows Aiden did that on purpose. Aiden looks up at him as innocently as he can with a mouth full of cock.

It’s obscene.

The person doesn’t even wash their hands before they leave, but Lambert can’t find it in him to bemoan their lack of hygiene, he’s just glad for some semblance of privacy again as he lets out a broken moan.

Aiden keeps it up, bobbing back and forth and twisting his hands around Lambert’s cock until he gasps, coming as his legs nearly give out from underneath him. “Fuck,” he says vehemently, panting as he tries to catch his beath. “Mild mannered librarian by day... But you’re sure something else at night, huh?” Lambert tugs a hand through Aiden’s coarse curls, delighting in the way they’re so pullable and soft.

Aiden hums and pulls off, Lambert’s eyes catching on the trail of saliva that follows Aiden’s lips, still connected to Lambert’s cock. “I don’t know about mild mannered.”

Aiden pulls off the condom and knots it, tucking it back into its original foil and putting it on top of the toilet paper dispenser before Lambert fists a hand in the collar of Aiden’s shirt and pulls him to his feet, kissing him messily and reveling in the taste of Aiden’s mouth. He reaches down between them, surprised to find Aiden still fully hard. He maneuvers Aiden around until his back is to the stall door instead of Lambert. Lambert squeezes him before getting to his knees himself, clumsy and unpracticed.

It’s been too long.

Lambert’s knees hit the hard floor, the cold tiles leaching warmth from his legs, even through his jeans. He finds himself not even caring about the ever present ammonia stench and the piss stains everywhere he looks. He unbuttons Aiden’s pants and unzips them, trying not to roll his eyes at the fact that he wore slacks to a bar. How difficult does he think Lambert is to impress, exactly, because Lambert would be the first to tell you it’s not that hard.

Speaking of things that are hard...Lambert jerks his fist along Aiden’s cock a few times, before pulling out another condom and putting it on him, moving forward to take the head into his mouth.

“Jesus, how many of those do you carry around?” Aiden asks, a little breathless.

Lambert pulls off for a moment. “I used to be a boy scout.”

“Liar,” Aiden hisses, but then his head is thudding back against the stall door as Lambert does a particularly clever twist of his fist. He keeps it moving along Aiden’s cock as he gets the head sloppy with spit, paying special attention to the sensitive spot on the underside.

Aiden twitches under his ministrations, and Lambert looks up at him, satisfied as he sees Aiden’s head is still leaned back against the stall door, his eyes squeezed shut.

Lambert hums as he takes more into his mouth, bobbing his head back and forth as he moves his hand farther back to play with Aiden’s balls. He rolls them gently in his hands, running his thumb over the soft skin.

When he looks back up at Aiden, he’s staring at Lambert with undisguised want and he’s visibly restraining himself from being louder. Lambert’s just glad that no one else has come into the bathroom. There’s no question about what’s happening here, not with the slick sounds they’re making.

Lambert starts to suck on Aiden’s cock, then, and a quiet swear comes out of Aiden and his hands fly down, scrambling for purchase in Lambert’s hair, but it’s too short for him to do anything but comb at it uselessly. He ends up with one of his hands on the back of Lambert’s head, just resting there, his fingertips coming down occasionally to brush at Lambert’s neck.

Part of Lambert rebels at the tenderness, but another part of him revels in it, and he keeps the steady motion up until Aiden’s hips are starting to jerk minutely.

Lambert presses a hand against him, holding his hips in place against the stall while he tongues the vein on the underside of Aiden’s cock. He comes after what seems like both a small eternity and no time at all, a moan punching out of him.

Aiden brushes his thumb over the corner of Lambert’s mouth and brings it back up to suck it into his own, Lambert tracking the movement with the corner of his eye. Lambert buttons up his pants and attempts to straighten his shirt, but it might be a lost cause with how many wrinkles are in it from how Aiden had rucked it up. Lambert pulls the condom off and wraps it in toilet paper, setting it on top of the one from earlier.

Lambert cracks the stall door open to throw the condoms into the trash, wincing when he misses.

“That was literally three feet away, dude.”

Lambert scowls at him as he gingerly picks it up and places it in the bin. “Don’t call me dude after I just sucked your cock.”

Lambert shuts the stall door again, waiting for Aiden to be a little bit more presentable.

Aiden tugs his shirt down and smoothes his hand over it, and Lambert tucks him back into his pants and buttons up his pants for him. “Thanks, babe,” he says with a shit eating grin.

Aiden pats Lambert’s hand fondly, and it gives Lambert a warm feeling even as he rolls his eyes. Lambert unlocks the door, and they stumble out together. Aiden leans against him, still very much in Lambert’s personal space and with his hair a mess. “So. You want to do this again sometime?”

All Lambert can do is nod.

“Sometime” happens quite frequently over the next several months. After...years of not being in a relationship, and certainly not having regular sex, Lambert’s not complaing.

He brings Aiden lunch at the library occasionally, since he has to work weekends, and Aiden ends up at Lambert’s cooking meals for him more than once in a while. Geralt appreciates the variety, at any rate.

When Geralt met Aiden for the first time, Geralt did a double take, and Lambert still doesn’t know what that’s about, and he doesn’t think he wants to know, either. If Geralt has ever slept with Aiden, he...doesn’t know what he’ll do. Scream, at the very least.

They’re at Aiden’s tonight, and Lambert’s digging through his refrigerator. “Why the fuck do you have all this lettuce? You’d think you were the professional eater,” he gripes as he shoves no less than six heads of the lettuce out of the way to get to the milk.

Aiden snorts behind him. “You’d think, huh?”

Lambert’s distracted from the discovery by Aiden’s arms wrapping around his waist. Lambert turns around in the hold to put his arms around Aiden’s neck and tug him even closer. Aiden grinds his hips against him, but Lambert pushes him back a little. “We haven’t even eaten supper yet,” he chides.

Aiden sighs, a long, put upon thing. “I’m going to die of blue balls.”

“I think you’ll be just fine.”

“What’s next? You say you have a headache?” Aiden puts a hand over his forehead dramatically.

“No, I’ll just tell you to fuck off if I’m not interested. Don’t worry.”

Aiden leans in to bite at Lambert’s ear lobe, and Lambert shoves his face away. “Fuck off.”

“Aw, Lamb,” Aiden wheedles.

“Food, then sex. God, you’re insatiable.”

“Thank you.” Aiden looks entirely too pleased with himself, and Lambert rolls his eyes.

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t, you love me,” Aiden says in a sing song voice.

Lambert groans, burying his face in his hands. “I never should have told you that.”

Aiden sobers for a moment. “I’m so glad you did. I love you, too.”

“Stop being such a sap and help me make supper.”

Aiden rolls his eyes. “Okay, okay, I get it; you’re allergic to feelings. I see how it is. You tell a man something once after the best blow job of your life and then just expect him to forget about it.”

“It was really nice,” Lambert admits.

“That would be because I am the number one wiener eater,” he says proudly.

Lambert shoves him. “Don’t be disgusting.”

Aiden just grins at him unabashedly, pulling the chef’s knife out of their drawer and brandishing it a little too familiarly for Lambert’s comfort. Lambert rolls his eyes. “Here, chop these for me.”

Aiden sets to work and within an hour, they have a comforting meal pulled together. Lambert portions the pasta out onto plates, and they make quick work of it, both of them having tiny portions. Lambert is mainly on semi solids and liquids in preparation for his next contest, and Aiden, he guesses, is being supportive. When they’re done, Aiden looks at his watch and stands up, yawning. “I’m going to have to take a rain check, if you’ll survive.”

Lambert rolls his eyes at him. “I think I’ll live. It was your idea, anyway.”

Aiden makes a face at him, but pulls him into a kiss anyway. “I have a few last minute prep things to do for tomorrow.”

“Like what? Do you need help?” Lambert asks, frowning, wondering if Aiden is making a celebratory cake for him, or something. That might be jumping the gun a bit.

“Hey, I can’t give away all of my secrets, can I?”

“I suppose not,” Lambert says, squinting at him.

“All right, well, I’ll see you then. We can ride together, okay?”

Lambert nods his assent as Aiden practically shoos him out the door. It’s still light outside, and this is possibly the first time he’s left Aiden’s apartment while the evening light has shined on him the whole time he’s known Aiden. He squints into the sun as he clambers into his car.

Well, whatever. He has stuff he should be doing, anyway. Eyes on the prize, he coaches himself as he pops in a few sticks of gum. He’s got this. He’s so, totally got this, and nothing is going to distract him from winning.

The next day finds Lambert frowning at his phone, as Aiden tells him something, speaking way too quickly. “Sorry, I know I said I would ride with you but Gunther is out sick and I’m going to have to work up until, like, the very last minute before the contest…”

“Well, you don’t have to come,” Lambert says, concerned that maybe expecting Aiden to attend is asking too much, especially when his work is short staffed.

Aiden just laughs. “I bet you’d just love that, huh?”

Lambert is a little puzzled on why Aiden would say that, and he’s trying to think of a reply when someone shouts something in the background of the call. “Hey, I have to go. Love you, bye!”

There’s the beep of a disconnected call, and Lambert brings the phone down from his ear to stare at it. That was… a little bizarre. Well, whatever. He can’t have anything distracting him now. There’s no way he’s going to lose two contests in a row, not after he had to wait months for the next one to come around.

Lambert drives to the contest, pointedly not noting how empty his passenger seat is without Aiden in it. He looks forward to spending time with him, so to have it cancelled always leaves him feeling melancholy.

He clenches his jaw and turns up the radio, his fingers tapping a frantic rhythm on the wheel.

By the time he arrives, anxiety is coiling in his gut and he’s already sweating. He sits in his car for a moment, blasting the air conditioning. If he loses again, is he officially a has been? He takes a deep breath as he gets out, walking up to the judges and turning in his paperwork.

He turns to look for Aiden in the crowd, but he doesn’t see him, so he must not be here yet. Lambert sighs as he searches the table lined with hot dogs for an empty seat, stopping when he sees—Aiden?

Lambert stares at Aiden with a slack jaw. “You’re—you—competing? What?”

“Lamb, what are you talking about? Are you okay? You don’t look so good.” Aiden pushes his chair back and hurries over to him, bringing a hand up to put on Lambert’s forehead, but Lambert swats him away.

“When did you sign up?” Lambert finally gets out.

Aiden squints. “Right after the last one? For real, are you alright?”

“The last one?” Lambert echoes.

“Yes. The last one. The one that I won?”

Lambert’s mouth flaps.

“That you won?” he practically screeches. He’s feeling a little dizzy.

“Did you get hit on the head?” Aiden asks, looking around nervously like he’s trying to find someone to ask for help. “Who do you think won that last contest, Lamb?”

Lambert sputters. “I don’t know; I was a little preoccupied!”

“Did you not look it up after? Oh my god, I thought you knew,” Aiden says in horror.

Lambert wants to cry, honestly. “It was you?”

“I felt bad when you were throwing up! You were puking and you didn’t even win! Sue me for being nice!”

Realization dawns on Lambert that this is why Geralt could barely contain his laughter after meeting Aiden. He did try to give him that newspaper clipping, after all. Surely it had a picture of the winner in it.

“Why did you think I was even there in the first place?” Aiden finally asks.

Lambert lets that settle over him for a moment. He still feels a little sick, but inexplicably he feels better, now that Aiden is in this with him. He pauses for a second of it. Now that he’s aware Aiden is in this with him. “Well, no one is allowed to beat me but you.”

“Deal. Hey, what did I tell you?”

Lambert groans. Aiden tells him lots of things, and his brain is not exactly cooperating with him at the moment. “I don’t know.”

Aiden nudges him with his elbow and gives him a meaningful raise of his eyebrow. “No, I think you do. Go on, don’t be afraid to admit it.”

What it must be pops into his head, and Lambert heaves a long suffering sigh, and he hopes it's one he’s going to be continuing to give for quite a while. “You’re the number one wiener eater.”

Aiden beams.

#the witcher #lambert #aiden #lambden #modern au #humor #contemplative writing

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marauderundercover · 3 years ago

Text

Taking Chances Ch. 18: Girl’s Night (Heroes/Villains)

AO3

First

Teleporting back into her room in Gotham, Marinette flops onto her bed. Passing Kaalki sugar cubes and Tikki a cookie, she suppresses the urge to scream into her pillow. She was sick and tired of Hawkmoth. Sick and tired of being the one who has to fix everything. She just wanted one week with no Hawkmoth, no akuma attacks. But no. Of course not. Of course he just had to send out a stupid akuma every single day. Because why not. How’re people supposed to know he’s still being the main villain of Paris if he takes a freaking day off? Once she finds out who he is, she’s going to punch him in his stupid face. A knock on her door pulls her from her plotting ways to get back at Hawkmoth.

“Come in.” She sighs, sitting up and forcing a tired smile on her face.

“Marinette, your father wanted-” Selina starts, pausing as she looks her over. “Come on kitten, we’re having a girls day.” She says. Marinette raises an eyebrow. Sure she’d met Selina before, but they hadn’t really hung out yet.

“What?” She asks.

“You look exhausted and angry, sweetheart. Spending too much time with these boys isn’t going to help. So you’re gonna grab anything you need for an overnight trip and we’re going to go watch movies and eat junk food til we’re sick.” Selina instructs. Marinette grins, jumping up and shoving stuff into her backpack. She puts Kaalki’s glasses into her purse and lets her and Tikki fly in before she turns to Selina.

“Ready!” She says, practically bouncing up and down in excitement. It’d been ages since she’d had a girls day with anyone. She was so ready to just take a break and be silly.

“Well come on then. Harley and Ivy are going to adore you.” Selina says, slinging her arm around Marinette’s shoulders. Somehow, they manage to not see anyone on the way to Selina’s car. Which is weird, but it is a weekday so everyone probably had something to do besides sit around the manor. Pulling away from the manor, Selina flips on the radio, the new Jagged Stone song blasting full volume.

“Nice taste in music.” Marinette says with a wide grin. Selina smirks.

“I have to like the man at least a little, his designer is one of my kids after all.” She says. Marinette smiles, a warm feeling flooding through her. Selina didn’t have to accept her with open arms, she didn’t have to treat her like she was her own daughter. But she did, and Marinette was so thankful for that. Thankful that even so far away from her Maman, she still had a Mom there for her. The two nod along to the music, scream singing the chorus together as the car pulls to a stop in front of an apartment building. Marinette glances at the building, suddenly nervous. Would Harley and Ivy like her? Or would they just tolerate her for Selina.

“Don’t make yourself nervous, sweetheart. Harley and Ivy are two of the sweetest people I know. They’re gonna love you.” Selina says reassuringly, reaching over and squeezing Marinette’s shoulder. Marinette lets out a breath before nodding.

“Okay, let’s go.” She says, grabbing her bag and jumping out of the car. She follows closely behind Selina, not wanting to give anyone the chance to get between them. You could never be too careful in Gotham. They walk into the building and go straight into the elevator, Selina pushing the button and leaning up against the wall while they wait. Marinette bounces on the balls of her feet, excitement and nerves bundling together. The second the elevator stops, Marinette’s out, following Selina down the hall. She pulls out a key, winking at Marinette before turning and unlocking the door.

“Honey, I’m home!” She calls, and Marinette’s jaw drops. The apartment was quite literally covered in plants and vines. They were beautiful. She grins as one of the vines near her leans towards her, a small flower blooming at the end of it.

“And who did you bring with you?” A tall woman with red hair asks, walking into the room. The designer inside of Marinette instantly has a million questions about the woman’s outfit. It seemed to be made entirely of plants, but she could also tell that they were still alive. She had no idea how the woman had managed that, but she guessed that it was something that couldn’t be replicated for someone else.

“I’m Marinette. Nice to meet you!” She says with a wide smile. The woman, who Marinette assumes is Ivy, grins back.

“Nice to meet you, Flower. I see you’ve already made a friend.” She says, gesturing to the vine which was now wrapped around Marinette’s wrist. Marinette giggles.

“Well, I was hoping they liked me and that’s what this was. I have a garden back in Paris, and I’d hate to find out plants actually hate me.” She says. Ivy shakes her head.

“No worries there. They adore you, it’s a little odd if I’m honest.” Ivy says, dodging Selina who tries to flick her.

“Did I hear Selina?” Another voice asks, a short blonde woman walking into the room. Her hair was short and choppy, the small pigtails at the top of her head dyed pink. Marinette grinned at the woman’s outfit- a Gotham Amusement Pier t-shirt, Batman pajama pants, and hot pink fuzzy socks. She wondered if her dad knows that Harley Quinn has Batman pj pants….probably not.

“Yes, with a guest.” Selina says, plopping onto the couch and gesturing over to Marinette, who was still standing by her new vine friend.

“Hi! I’m Marinette, it’s nice to meet you.” She says, smiling and waving with her free hand. Ivy whispers something and the vine squeezes a bit before letting go, letting her move away from the door.

“Well aren’t ya just the cutest!” Harley squeals, running forward and giving her a big hug. “Didjya finally join your boytoy’s adopting habits?” Harley adds, still clutching onto Marinette. Selina snorts.

“No, he beat me to her. But she’s definitely mine, too.” She says, making Marinette’s face turn red. Harley coos at her, ruffling her hair before stepping back.

“So what brings ya here? Get annoyed with Bats already?” Harley asks. Marinette blinks in shock. Harley knows? She thinks about it for a minute, and realizes it just makes sense. They’d been fighting long enough and then he started his relationship with Selina, who was one of Harley’s best friends. It just made sense that Harley (who was extremely smart) would put two and two together.

“No, just thought that Mari could use a girl’s day. She’s been stuck with just the boys for over a week.” Selina explains. Harley gasps.

“The horror!” She says, making Marinette giggle. “Come on pumpkin, I’ve got the comfiest jammies ever. Oooo, and we can paint our nails! Ivy, find the movies, Selina, you’re on snacks. This is gonna be so much fun!” Harley orders, grabbing Marinette’s hand and tugging her along to one of the bedrooms, Selina’s laugh echoing throughout the apartment.

“I did bring pjs, ma’am.” Marinette says, once Harley stops tugging her and starts searching through a drawer.

“Bet that can’t be comfier than the ones I’ve got for ya! And call me Harley kiddo, or Auntie Harley if ya wanna.” She says, looking up from the drawer to smile widely. She looks back and cheers in victory, pulling out a pair of bright red pajama pants. Marinette snorts when she notices the logo all over the pants.

“Really?” She asks, giggling. Harley smirks.

“We’ll have to take a picture of us and send it to your old man. Really get ‘im riled up.” She says. Marinette nods excitedly, taking the Robin pants from Harley. This was gonna be awesome.

---

Bruce sighs, looking at the news report from Paris from earlier. The damned butterflies were hard to track. He was used to figuring out problems quickly, and this one was taking too long for comfort. It wouldn’t bother him as much if it was anywhere else, but it was directly impacting his daughter. She was being hurt daily, and she’d even died and now she was plagued with nightmares. All because of a man with some magic jewelry. God, he hated magic. A knock on the study door stirs him from his thoughts.

“Come in.” He says.

“Hey B, have you seen Mari? I was gonna ask her if she wanted to go get ice cream with me and Little D.” Dick asks, leaning against the door frame, Damian standing next to him with his arms crossed.

“Not since breakfast. There was another akuma attack earlier, but it wasn’t a bad one. She wasn’t injured.” He says, remembering the completely strange battle from earlier. It was some man with pigeons, and apparently this was the 34th time the man had been akumatized over pigeons.

“Did you not check her room after the battle?” Damian asks, eyebrow quirked. Bruce sighs.

“It was the pigeon one again. I assumed that she’d want to take a nap, if anything. She still hasn’t been sleeping well. Tim said she’s awake every morning when he comes up for coffee, whether it’s three or five, she’s up.” Bruce explains, frowning at the thought of his youngest daughter’s sleep habits. He certainly didn’t need another sleep deprived coffee addict like Tim. It wasn’t healthy.

“Well I already checked her room. She wasn’t there.” Dick says, and Bruce frowns, pulling out his phone to send a text to Tim and call Jason. One of them had to have seen her. She never left the house without telling one of the family, unless it was for a battle.

“What.” Jason says gruffly, Bruce is just grateful he answered. Up until a couple of months ago, Jason would have rather thrown his phone in the river than answer one of Bruce’s calls.

“Have you seen Marinette?” He asks, getting straight to the point.

“No? Why? What’s wrong?” Jason asks, and Bruce hears shuffling as Jason rushes around wherever it is he is.

“Nothing. I’ll call you back.” He says, hanging up. He glances down at his texts and notices Tim hasn’t seen her either. He frowns, but doesn’t panic yet. Pulling out his computer, he pulls up the tracker that was on each of his children’s phones. He scans the map, frowning when he sees that her phone is still in the manor. In her room. He stands and swiftly moves past his sons to get to his daughter’s room. He knocks, waiting for an answer. None.

“Marinette?” He calls, knocking again. “I’m opening the door.” He warns, pushing it open. He frowns at the empty room, nothing appearing out of place.

“Do you think she had to pop back to Paris for something?” Dick asks, coming up behind him. Bruce shakes his head.

“No, she would have told us. Suit up, she has to be somewhere in-” He stops as his phone chimes. He looks at it and feels all of the tension leave his shoulders.

Took our youngest daughter for a girl’s day, back tomorrow XO. Of course Selina had her.

“She’s with the Sirens. She’ll be back tomorrow.” Bruce says, suppressing a smile at the annoyed look on his youngest’s face. She was safe, and that’s what matters. Even if he was certain he’d have to listen to Damian complain for the entirety of patrol.

---

“Make all the boy moose go WAAAAAAAAA!” Harley says with the movie, laughing loudly. Marinette chuckles, passing Tikki a cookie in her purse before sticking another spoonful of ice cream in her mouth.

“I still like the first one more.” Selina says, taking a sip of her wine. Harley sticks her tongue out at her before turning her attention back to the movie.

“Do you think Mia is secretly a superhero?” Marinette asks, frowning in thought.

“What on earth are you talking about?” Ivy asks, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Even Harley pauses the movie to turn and stare at her.

“Stan Lee.” Marinette says with a shrug.

“Is that s’posed to mean something to me, kid? Cause I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about.” Harley says, obviously confused. Marinette huffs.

“Stan Lee makes a cameo in this movie. And Stan Lee is the creator of Marvel, right? He’s made a cameo in like, every single Marvel movie. So is Mia secretly a superhero? Is that why he’s in the movie?” Marinette rambles, almost flinging ice cream at Selina as she gestures crazily.

“Sweetie, how much sleep have you had in the past three days?” Selina asks after a few moments of silence.

“Not important. Is Amelia Mignonette Thermopolis Renaldi, Princess of Genovia, also a superhero? Does she secretly work for SHIELD? Or is she more like Iron Man, like a freelance superhero? Was she a hero in San Francisco too? Or did she take over a hero's mantle when she moved to Genovia? Cause she was really clumsy in the first movie and also super awkward, but now she’s less clumsy and she seems to be more put together, but are heroes really put together? I don’t think so. I think sometimes heroes pretend that they’re put together to make everyone else feel better when in all reality they’re seconds away from a breakdown themselves. Is Stan Lee coming to recruit her for SHIELD? Is that why he’s in Genovia? Does SHIELD have any jurisdiction there? Is there a Genovian branch of SHIELD?” Marinette rambles, suddenly stuck on the topic. Seriously, why is Stan Lee in Princess Diaries 2 if Mia isn’t a hero? Why would he-

“Kitten, take a breath.” Selina says, her hands on Marinette’s shoulders helping her to ground herself. Marinette takes in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. She blinks a few times, instantly feeling bad.

“I’m so sorry.” She says, frowning.

“What for?” Harley asks, looking confused.

“For ruining girl’s night.” She says quietly. Selina pulls her into a tight hug and Marinette sinks into it.

“Sweetheart, you didn’t ruin anything. I don’t know everything that’s going on. But what I do know, is that you rambling out a conspiracy theory about the movie we’re watching is not ruining girl’s night. Trust me. One time, we invited your brother Dick, and he ate all of the cookies by himself.” Selina says, Marinette snorts. Of course he did. “Now that’s a way to ruin girl’s night.” She adds, squeezing her once more before leaning back.

“Let's watch something that we can just get lost in and not have to think at all.” Ivy suggests, looking through the stack of dvd’s. Marinette glances over, eyes instantly catching one of her favorite movies.

“Legally Blonde?” She suggests, Harley squeals.

“That’s it, you’re officially ours. Brucie can fight me.” She says, putting in the dvd. Marinette laughs, laying her head on Selina’s shoulder, grabbing a handful of popcorn. She could get used to nights like these.

Next Chapter

Bonus chapter: Harley Vs Bruce

Drawing of Harley and Mari’s pajamas

Tag list: @maribat-bdbwm @vixen-uchiha @stainedglassm @liquid-luck-00 @jayjayspixiepop @jjmjjktth @mizzy-pop @trippingovermyfeet @queenz-z @thepaceperson @iloontjeboontje @waiting247 @laurcad123 @toodaloo-kangaroo @ritacrow-blog @deathssilentapproach-blog @kittenmywaythrulife @nerd-nowandforever @tazanna-blythe @jaybird-and-co @jumpingjoy82

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valeskakingdom · 4 years ago

Note

since we were talking about candy in the groupchat, what about jerome and reader being at the circus or a festival and reader insisting on trying every candies and snacks? or maybe that would be jerome? haha (of course, ignore if you want to! :))

No it's alright! I think I do it before Jerome became crazy tho. Still I think I mention the abusive relationship and the big hatred Jerome feels for her. Get ready for a little surprise ahaha!

This time it's a very short one tho (my opinion)

Credit: @daily-joker

Jerome x Reader

Warnings: short mention of violence and abuse, otherwise none

Word count: 2139

It was 4ish in the afternoon.

You were excited - finally you see your lover again: the ginger circus boy Jerome Valeska. He meant everything to you, you couldn't without him. In your opinion you and him had almost the perfect relationship. You've never argued, you supported each other, helped each other... It was magical. Both of you, Jeromeor you, could never think it. You and arguing? About what? There was nothing to argue about. You know he would never cheat on you, nor would you. Your feelings for each other were way to strong.

But yes, as you've heard - your relationship was almost perfect.

The crux of the matter were your habits. You lived in a small apartment near the Narrows with a non exciting view to the outside - you just saw damaged houses, trash filled the streets, and just a few people walked outside.

And Jerome - he lived at the circus. Always travelling, always far away from you. Just at the beginning of spring you were able to see him, otherwise you were required to send letters - and you did it, day by day until you both knew everything about each other. You knew, he didn't like the circus - mainly because of his mother Lila Valeska, the snake dancer. In your opinion, she was a whore who abused his own flesh and blood. She was beating Jerome, yelling and punishing him for nothing. It made you cry, thinking your love of your life was living in such horrible conditions. Several times you offered him to live with him but he always declined. He said if he left his mum would find him and kill him. Then you offered him to move to the circus but even that he declined. He said he couldn't forgive himself if his mother laid a finger on you - kind of understandable.

***

You made your way quick to the circus. You didn't want to waste your time, you couldn't wait any longer to see you. You wanted to hug him, kiss the shit outta him, wanted to smell on his cologne that smelled like a mix of candies and the classy men perfume. It satisfied all your senses, you were literally addicted to it.

After you quickly parked in front of the circus, you made your way fast to enter it. You didn't even need to buy a ticket, every artist knew you as Jerome pretty little doll. That was the nickname he usually gave you when he was non stop talking about you.

On the entrance, you saw the Ringmaster seemingly looking for something. His head permanently moved from one side to another and he had a questioning look on his face. It changed though as he saw you. A little smile went over his face and waved at you, he had some empathy for you which was not natural.

"Great to see you (Y/n)."

"Thank you," you gave him a warm smile "Was just looking for Jerome."

"Might be in his trailer. Probably arguing with his mother again. I heard them yelling." He shrugged clueless.

You just sighed in response, you knew what that meant. You'd find Jerome being beaten up in his room, his pretty face was covered in bruises and he'd try to overplay everything although he'd love to cry into your shoulder.

Immediately, you made your way to his trailer, almost running. You hoped he was fine and nothing that bad has happened yet.

Your feeling was wrong.

You saw him sitting in front of the trailer. He was crawled into himself like a little girl that was scared of getting punched but one of its parents again - what a cliche.

You couldn't see whether he was crying yet or not - you just hoped he didn't.

You hope was all gone as you came nearer, you heard him sobbing and sniffing. Fuck, you thought. Your felt sorry for him, you couldn't stand him being so sad. It made you sad, you just wanted to cry. You couldn't see him like that. Your heart felt heavy, breathing became a burden, pins and needles were all over your skin, tears were built up in your eyes at you were trying to hold back.

"Jerome-" Your breathe hitched as he looked up at you - his eyes were puffy and red from crying and his face...oh lord. He had a black eye, a red swollen lip with a bloody cut You almost didn't date to ask. You knew he didn't like taking about it "Wha-what has happened?"

"Had a little argument with my mum and her one off bozo." He shrugged sniffing and looked at the ground.

You couldn't understand Lila, you couldn't understand anybody who ever abused someone like that. Did they have fun destroying someone's life?! Did she love seeing her son hurt?

Saying nothing you took a seat next to him. You took his hand tangling your fingers in your and rubbed circles with your thumb slowly as you rested your head on his shoulder. You tried to calm him down with that. You knew words were useless. You could start this typical encouragement like everything's gonna be better bla bla. You and he knew it was not true and making him falso hope wouldn't help at all.

You both said nothing for a while. You gave him time to clear his head that he could calm down. You didn't want to annoy him with any stupid words or thoughts as well.

"I wanna kill her." Jerome said all of a sudden "She should feel the pain she causes me."

You gulped in surprise. You've never heard him saying like this before, he sounded so serious about it what kinda scared you. Was he serious about it? No he wasn't, right? Jerome was too adorable to be a criminal. He was surely just upset about the stuff his mother does to him and he doesn't know what he's sayinh.

"I just can offer you to stay with me, Jerome. You'd be save, no mother, no violent bozos. There'd be just you and me."

"Soon I will. I promise." He wiped his tears from his cheeks.

"Just say a word and I help you packing." You just kissed his cheek give him a little smile. It was the first time he said this. Now you were assured he really wanted to do all these things you've planned once: Living together, a wedding, kids.

Jerome looked at you now. His gaze met yours, a small smile was built up in his actually face. He was relieved. He was thankful you offered him a place to say although the he permanently denied it. He was thankful to have you by his side. You were his only supporter, and the most intense one.

"I love you," Jerome grabbed your cheeks softly and pulled you into a deep kiss. You couldn't help but smile as your lips touched softly.

"I love you, too." You said against his lips with a smile making him smile, too. You were thinking now. What could you do to make him feel better? Sex was no option for you - well, not right now. You wanted to give him the feeling of freedom, that he could do what he wanted or that he could be a normal teenager like you. You wanted to do something stupid with him. Something like buying tons of food like trying to win the biggest soft animal or taking silly photos of each other. You just wanted to see him happy again.

Then you had an idea.

You grabbed his hand and pulled him after you while you both stood up. Probably that was gonna be one of your most stupid ideas but it was fun. It was childish. Maybe he would even call you dumb but you didn't care. You just wanted to make him love and letting him forget all his problems.

"What are you doing?" Jerome frowned as he wiped the last few tears out of his face.

"I wanna cheer you up, silly." You giggled and kept walking "Have you ever eaten every sort of candies here Or every snack you can buy here?"

"What?"

"Yes or no?"

"Uhm...no? What are you-..."

"Time for changes." You smirked "We now go buy every single candy and every kind of fast food they offer here. Then we go out anywhere and eat them all up and vote what's the best and the worst one."

"Are you serious?" Jerome asked on disbelief.

"I'm anything but joking." You stopped walking giving him a stern look "So you're in?"

"I don't know," Jerome shrugged with a sigh "I'm just not in the mood for anything."

Instead of saying something, you pulled him into a tight hug and buried your face into the crook of his neck. At first, he didn't hug you back, just stood there; sad, unmotivated, pissed. You didn't mind about it. You could understand how he felt. Being beaten up and insulted almost every day had to be horrible. It was a living hell.

After a few minutes though, you felt Jerome slowly wrapping his arms around. His head was leaned against yours, one of his hands was placed on the back of your head and his fingers were tangled in your hair. You felt how he pulled you more against him. He needed you, more than before - more than anything right now.

"I hate seeing you like that, Jerome." You mumbled "I just want you to be happy or at least forget all these bad things for a moment. I know it's hard, but I just wanna help you, okay?"

"I know...thank you for that." Jerome kissed your head, then looked at you giving you a little smile making you smile, too.

"Anytime for you," You pecked his lips "So...does that mean you're in?"

"Do we really have to eat all candies?"

"Yes! That's the fun on it," You chuckled "How about we rate the candies? Criteria are taste and consistence. C'mon that'll be fun!"

"Fineee." He rolled his eyes with a slight laughter. You were glad. You were glad seeing him smiling, hearing him laughing a little. His eyes weren't full of tears anymore, he didn't look sad not like he was about to have a nervous break down. He looked like the funny and happy Jerome you got to know.

***

"What about Twinkies?" You ask as you and Jerome took a bite in it as you both sat n the back seats of your car. You really did it. You bought every candy that existed at the circus. Pop tarts, Nerds, Sour Patch, Twizzlers...everything.

In your eyes it was a good idea doing that. Not because you were obsessed with candies, you just wanted to distract Jerome - and it worked. He was laughing more, he was making jokes, making you smile. Exactly how you wanted it.

"I would say...hm...taste is 7 out of 10, consistence 8." Jerome said thinking "Makes 7.5"

"I agree," You said giving him the cotton candy "Now let's try this." You both took a bite in it.

"Taste is 8 out of 10, consistence is...6."

"Really? Just a 6? It's an 8 as a minimum." You frowned in disbelief. He can't be serious, can he?

"It's too fibrous."

"Well, that's the sense of cotton candy." You rolled your eyes "You aren't a cotton candy type, are you?"

"I just don't like this one. Its just made bad," He grabbed the pop tarts opening them "Now let's try these." And again you both took a bite in it.

"Fight me but 10 out of 10! Both criteria!" You insisted instantly.

"Agreed." Jerome nodded "I think they are my favorites."

"Hm," You pursed your lips thinking "I can't decide between Twizzlers and Pop Tarts." You really couldn't. You loved the frosted chocolate in Pop Tarts, and oh the cookie! The cookie was amazing. But Twizzlers... You loved the strawberry flavor. It was perfect! Not too sour, not too sweet, not bitter. Both were your favorite flavors.

"Let's try them again." Jerome eagerly grabbed the Twizzlers pack and ate some "Definitely Pop Tarts."

"Are you sure? They are both so... delicious and-..."

"I'm more than sure," Jerome interrupted me with a slight chuckle "Trust me, Pop Tarts are the best."

"Okay fine, Pop Tarts are the winner." You smirked eating up the rest of Pop Tarts. You admitted, he was right. Pop Tarts ARE the best.

"By the way," Jerome started scratching his head "Thank you."

"Anytime." you smiled kissing his soft and red lips. You accomplished what you wanted - he was happy again because of your silly idea "And next time we rate fast food."

"I'm in."

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13uswntimagines · 4 years ago

Text

If That Isn’t Love (Christen Press x Reader)

Request: Reader and Christen are dating- the team finds out when they go to a game and there’s a fight with the rival team.

You glared at the opposing team, your fists clenching and unclenching in unbridled anger. Soccer was a contact sport and that was fine, as was the intense rivalry between your school and North Carolina, but they were taking things way too far.

So far the first half of the college cup final had been plagued with fouls and no calls from the refs and it was starting to get under your skin (it didn’t help that your girlfriend and your teammates were in the stands watching).

“Better keep your eyes on the ball and not on the stands captain,” North Carolina’s captain spat in your direction. You rolled your eyes at the senior defender. The two of you had been locked in a battle for the past 4 years, a battle that went far beyond forward versus defender or Stanford versus North Carolina.

“Worry about your goal cause worrying about me isn’t really workin out for ya,” You rolled your eyes, gesturing towards the goal that you had found twice already. There was a reason you had been called up to the national team when you were 16 and had a full ride to play.

The defender growled, taking a dangerous step in your direction.“You're just upset because you’re being outclassed. At least I didn’t fuck my way to the top,”

Your eyes tightened dangerously. One of the reasons you and Christen hadn’t told the team about your relationship yet was because neither of you wanted anyone to assume you got where you were for anything other than your playing skill.

You growled, stepping up to the woman so your noses were almost touching. “Don’t talk about things you don’t know about,”

The defender smirked at you, cocking her head to the side“What I know is that your little girlfriend isn’t going to want you when you lose,”

You grit your teeth. “In your dreams,”

Her lips twitched, and you resisted the urge to smack the smirk off her face. You had no doubt you could kick her ass, but starting a riot during your final college game wasn’t really something you were interested in.

The defender opened her mouth to respond, only to be interrupted but the ref’s whistle. “Let’s break it up ladies,”

“Watch your back,” She huffed, shoulder checking you as she made her way back to her position. 70 minutes to go and the brutality was just getting started.

*****

Christen was on the edge of her seat, her fingers clenching painfully around Tobins hand. Her grip got progressively tighter every time you hit the turf. With every tackle, you were slower and slower to get up. Your flush was also getting progressively deeper (a telltale sign that you were nearing the end of your patience).

“Chris if you squeeze any tighter you're going to break my fingers. Baby Bear is going to be fine,” Tobin mumbled very close to the forwards ear, using the hand not currently being crushed to adjust Christen’s grip.

“You need your feet, not your hands,” The green eye woman growled back, her breath catching when the same defender took you off your feet yet again.

“Yeah cause the Rɘ- imagineers will totally understand that the next capsule is delayed because you broke my hand watching your secret girlfriend play soccer,” Tobin grumbled, biting her lip at the look on your face. A very dangerous look.

You were not known for being the most patient person on the women’s national team, hell most of the vets would venture to say that you had one of the most explosive tempers in the team. It took a lot to push you to that point, an insane amount of prodding, but once the explosion started, you were like a volcano, destroying everything on your path.

“She’s gonna explode if the ref doesn’t start carding that defender,” Kelley mumbled, shaking her head.

Alex scoffed at the notion. If you blew up, it wasn’t anyone’s fault but the stupid defender.“She’s been on her ass all night,”

The teams eyebrows furrowed as you went toe to toe with the defender yet again, spit flying in all directions as you yelled at each other. “Wonder what they’re saying,” Becky said, eyebrows furrowing as you took another step towards the defender. Sure you had a temper, but you usually avoided committing red-card offenses on the field.

“Whatever it is, North Carolina better stop because y/n looks like she’s going to beat her ass,” Emily snorted, throwing a handful of popcorn into her mouth. This show was just starting to get good (not that the onesided beat down of North Carolina wasn’t fun to watch…).

*****

Everything moved in slow motion. You saw the ball leave your cleats. You saw the defender come in, studs up, after the ball was zooming towards the net. You watched the world fall as you tumbled on the grass, popping up the second your back touched the ground.

Your fists clenched and your face turned red as you once again went toe to toe with the defender.

“What the fuck is your problem. You could have fucking ended my career,”

“Thought you’d be used to being under someone better than you,” She shrugged, stepping up so your noses were almost touching, an annoying smirk playing across her features.

“I thought I told you to leave her out of this,” You growled, clenching your fist.

“Can’t take the heat Bitch?” The defender chuckled, sending a wink to where the team was sitting in the stands and pushing her finger into your chest.

“You will remove your hand before I remove it for you,” You snarled. The defender laughed again before shoving you hard. “What are you gonna do about it pipsqueak?”

And like that, your patience had run out. You launched yourself at the woman, spit flying, fists swinging. You were going to end this woman.

****

“Don’t you ever scare me like that again,” Christen’s arms were around you the second she was in the trainer's room. You melted into her, wincing slightly with the pressure her hug put on your bruised ribs (likely from the defender’s knee when you tackled her).

“Sorry darling,” you mumbled, pressing your face into her shoulder, and breathing in her scent. It always had a calming effect. you groaned when her hand brushed over a particularly nasty bruise on the side of your face.

She sighed, pulling back and carefully using her fingers to pry you from your hiding spot in her neck. She held your face between her hands and examined the damage. Her eyes scrunched as she took in your broken nose, black eye and split lip.

Her thumb brushed lightly over the cut just above your eyebrow.“She got you good,” she mumbled.

You smirked, ignoring the pain it put on your split lip and winked at your girl “Hmm, you should see the other guy,”.

It was the truth. Sure you were a little banged up, but the defender had definitely gotten the worse end of the stick. While you had walked off the field by your own power, the defender had been carried off on a stretcher.

Her giggle made any discomfort you felt from your facial expressions entirely worth it. “Always the charmer,” she hummed, leaning in and placing a very light kiss on your lips, mindful of the now open cut. You smiled dopily at her.

“but no more getting involved in riots alright?”

You nodded solemnly at her. The pitch had turned into a mess, with your team coming to your aid after the defender punched you in the face, and the other team doing the same. “Promise” You mumbled, looking her in the eyes to show her your sincerity, and before kissing her again. She didn’t need to know that it was comments about her that had caused the fight (you would defend her willingly any day).

A hushed whisper broke you and Christen out of your moment “Did Christen just kiss baby bear?”, followed by what sounded like a slap on the back of a head.

You pulled away from your girlfriend, pouting when your team mom stepped between the two of you. “Well, we hate to break this sweet reunion up, but what the fuck is going on?” Alex asked sternly, and for the first time, you were glad your bruised cheeks hid your blush, still your brought your hands up to hide your face.

“We’re dating,” You grumbled, smiling when Christen intertwined your fingers with hers and pulled them from your face. She winked at you, god she thought you were adorable.

The team awed at the action. Well half the team did, Emily still stared at you with wide eyes. “What?”

“Seriously you guys are blind, they were obvious as fuck,” Tobin snorted, shaking out her aching hand. You and Chris weren’t subtle at all, and you had just started a riot on her behalf. If that wasn’t love, she didn’t know what was.

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagines #uswnt imagine #christen press imagine #christen press x reader

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internalsealpanic · 4 years ago

Text

Monster Monster

I wholeheartedly blame this pic for the existence of this fic. I just wanna hug him and ruffle his hair.

Summary: Parent Teacher Conferences are very scandalous.

a/n: This is actually one of my few fics where reading some of my previous fics will help. I highly recommend reading Of Midnight Smoothies and Murder Mysteries to get a better feel on Dick and Reader’s relationship but anything on the Dick Grayson masterlist works too. Special thanks to @littleredwing89 and @americasmarauders for proofreading. Thanks to @littleredwing89 and @batarella for help with the ending.

warnings: A slur is mentioned but it gets shut down. Also, swearing.

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

“Tt, stop staring at me.”

You bite back a smile and what was probably a laugh rising in your throat. “Hmmm, no.” You hum, carding your fingers through Damian’s curls. The corners of your mouth twitch into a frown when you feel an angry bump against your fingers. It’s dry and there seems to be no break in the skin as far as you could tell. You let a little sigh of relief escape you which has the unintended consequence of upsetting the gremlin in front of you.

Damian attempts to swat your hand away, snarling as he did. You grin at him, all sharp teeth and pettiness. You, being childish, do not take your hand away and instead ruffle his hair more. An adorably petulant pout settles on Damian’s mouth making the kid look ten-years-old for once. It takes everything in you not to squeal in delight.

“Unhand me. I do not require your mothering and you would do very well to leave the scolding to Richard or Pennyworth.” You can easily picture Alfred scolding Damian but Dick? You try to picture Dick, hand on his hip, trying his damndest to be mean to the kid but you just couldn’t. Sure, Nightwing can be terrifying, even Batman but Dick? Especially with a kid? Not even feasible. You snort openly, the noise echoing in the deadly silent room. The woman on the other side of the room sitting next to a boy with a faceful of bruises and probably a couple of chipped teeth glares at you. Specifically, the woman scowls at your arm, skin festooned with bangles of coiled serpent tails and glittering blades. You fight the urge to stick your tongue out at her. Instead, you tug a bit at your sleeves, baring the golden lines streaked with old gashes. A low humorless laugh escapes you causing her scowl to deepen.

Damian follows your line of sight. His face folds in utter contempt. The boy next to her flinches. Their size difference made this all the funnier. “[What did he do?]” you ask in what you hope are the correct words in Arabic. Damian crosses his arms not meeting your gaze. His leg kicks out, the restlessness thrumming in his bones. “[Your accent is atrocious.]”

Your mouth twitches uncontrollably, edging into a fond smile. You tamp it down with a click of your tongue lest the little demon tear your head off. “[I’m out of practice, child,]” Damian grabs at a space beside him only for his hand to close on nothing. Something inside you dies when you stop yourself from cackling. Thank goodness, Bruce has--had--the good sense to take the kid’s katana away.

“[Anyway, what did he do?]”

“[How are you so sure he did something?]”

“[Because you’re a brat but not stupid. You are by far the most annoyingly reasonable child I have had the displeasure of conversing with.]” Damian’s eyes widened in surprise. It seems the assumed hatred was mutual. You watch as he folds his face back into a glower, not quite fast enough to evade your attention but certainly fast enough to fool the untrained eye. Unfortunately for him, you’re used to the acrobatics of faces, the chaotic cacophony of microexpression. Most people in your life are, after all, awful at broadcasting their feelings even when it was sorely needed. This is probably why you gravitated to Dick so easily. The man believed in openness, in communication.

Distantly, you can hear the woman across from you tap her foot impatiently against the carpet. A flick of your eye tells you she was sneering at both of you likely eavesdropping (and failing) on your conversation. Why she needs to know what you and a ten-year-old with a stick up his ass were talking about you weren’t sure. Damian turns his head slightly towards you, angling his chin upward to mask the uncertainty in his posture. “[If you must know, he-]”

“Gypsies”

The syllables ring like a loud staccato of gunshots despite how quietly she’d hissed it. You freeze. You can feel Damian stiffen right beside you. Understanding flowed into you molten and bubbling. You feel your throat itch, unkind words coalescing into a lump in your throat. You turn your body to Damian who was now still but you can feel the anger wicking off him. You sling your arm over the head of the chair behind him drawing his attention back to you.

He arches a brow at you, challenging. The expression falters when the next few words leave your mouth.

“[You’re off the hook.]”

Principal Jameson is a nasally man. It isn’t his anything to do with his voice. Though, you would be remiss to say that his voice was pleasant. You’re actually half tempted to turn your bad ear on him, block out the words coming from him but that would negate the point of you coming here. His voice isn’t that unpleasant but his entire demeanor rubbed you the wrong way. You’ve seen jellyfish with more backbone than this man. Then again, this might just be a by-product of your presence. Dick, and several other batbrats, have helpfully informed you that you were in fact pants pissing scary to civilians. You would like to say you couldn’t see it but standing in front of this man it was clear as day.

“Y/n L/n,” you offer congenially. His shoulders ease a fraction but did not offer you a hand. You smother a sigh before offering an additional “I believe Mr.Grayson-Wayne had informed you that I would be coming in his stead to discuss this-” Shit show, your mind supplies but thankfully, your mouth was quick enough to bite it back. “- incident.” Beside you Damian scoffed. You stop yourself from kicking the kid because that really would not do.

“Yes, well, Ma’am your-” Jameson halts frankly unsure of your relationship to Damian because of course, Dick would leave the leg work to your socially allergic ass. You make a mental note to kick him later. “- charge.” you supply, feeling a modicum of sympathy for the drowning man.Your eyes flick to Damian. His face is impassive, ire still directed at the thirteen-year-old sniveling behind his mother. The term is too cold for your taste but as of right now that’s all you were. Maybe you’ve finally found a Robin you wouldn't get attached to.

“Well, ma’am, you see your charge, Damian, he’s punched another student and has yet to even apologize. He even started a full on brawl.”

“Mhmm, I see,” you drawl tilting your head. You feel Damian stiffen at the ease of your response. You don’t have to look at his face to know that he was glaring at you with something in his eyes withering from the betrayal. The woman across from nods agreeably as if you had said something sensible. Jameson for his part nearly sighs with relief. You click your teeth a little irritable from their responses but more fascinated than anything. ‘I see’ is barely an answer but they each filled in the gaps with their own assumptions. “And has that young man over there apologized for what he said to Damian? Or for the lump on Damian’s head? Surely, you sent Damian to the clinic as well.” you voice out looking as scandalized as possible.

The room froze.

Your eyes will probably roll into the back of your head before your meeting is done. Judging from Jameson’s posture, they didn’t. They should have at least checked if the kid had a concussion. A familiar sort of ire rose in you. Oh boy, you’re going to have a field day with these people. You sigh in exasperation before continuing. “Not only did you neglect to send him to the clinic to check on the lump on his head, but you were also planning to let the other boy off the hook?” you accuse, voice rising with some effort. Your voice has a tendency to draw low when your temper is flaring. It’s an intimidation tactic you'd learned from a while ago. It would probably be ill advised to use it on a man who looked like he was a second away from a heart attack.

Jameson leans forward, reaching out appeasingly.“Ma’am, we-”

“From what I recall, Gotham Academy has a strict zero tolerance policy on derogatory language, does it not?” You cut him off, voice suddenly vicious. You shift your body in front of Damian putting yourself between him and everyone else in the room. He bristles at the gesture but you and your habits aren’t exactly concerned with his pride.

“Ma’am I-“

“I rest my case. Please, feel free to contact Mr.Grayson-Wayne if you have more to say.” You settle a hand on Damian’s shoulder. You’re surprised he didn’t fight you or swat your hand away. Taking it as permission, you pull him closer to you as you leave the red faced woman and the paling man gob smacked and silent. Damian himself doesn’t make the sound as you made your way down the hall. You squeeze his shoulder gently hoping it comes across as a reassuring gesture. His posture does not loosen but you do not let him stray from you. You close your eyes as the elevator doors shut.

“I did not require your assistance.”

“I know.” Of course, he doesn’t. He is a Robin and an Al Ghul but that doesn’t mean he isn’t gonna get it. You drum your fingers against the steering wheel, the dull beat only serving to irritate your nerves. You swear the traffic in Gotham was somehow infinitely worse than everywhere else in the world even with working traffic lights. Maybe that’s why there were so many crazy people here. Maybe Bruce should have invested his money on better roads. Maybe-

Your eyes slide towards Damian who is somehow shrinking and pressing into the side door. Still, his face is twisted skeptically and braced for a continuation to your statement. You looked heavenward not even hiding the weariness in your smile. The brat is truly a bat-- suspicion and all. You turn your body towards him, opening up your posture. You fold your leg and rest your chin on your arm. Damian meets your gaze head on, looking imperious as he crosses his arms over his chest. His posture is artificial, probably uncomfortable from the weight of your attention.

You roll your shoulders and reshape your features, reconfiguring yourself from understanding to teasing. “I know. I know but you see, they needed telling off and your tiny gremlin ass isn’t scary enough. And, I promise I won’t tell Dickolas that you defended him so vehemently.” you wink, a conspiratorial grin spreading across your face. Damian straightens, his body is bowed like he was about to spring for your throat but the shape his limbs took on was more natural and seemingly relaxed. The knot in your shoulder loosens. You reach over and ruffle his hair again. He really is still a kid. You stare each other down. Your smile is as unwavering as his glower.

Both of your stomachs grumble. The sound was loud and abrasive in the closed space of the car. You check your watch and hum, shifting back into your seat. Wordlessly, you switch on your signal light.

You leaf through the pages of the thoroughly used book in your hands, eyes skimming through the blocks of texts not really absorbing any of it. You never really found the appeal in fiction. The stories are too neat compared to what you experienced daily. You suppose there is simplicity in them but you find that in nonfiction, the kind of books that explained the mechanics of things. They made sense of the world and were much more useful in your opinion. You’re much more interested in the messy scribbles on the margins, the etchings of a loud mind on yellowing pages. Jason’s notes were written in the same tone of voice he used when he spoke, deceptively layman but upon further inspection was frighteningly insightful. You smile at the little comments and complaints, the snarky little remarks. Remnants of the little boy he had been before. You frowned. You should probably give this back to him once you have the chance and maybe come up with some excuse of why you still have it. Or you can just keep it.

You look up at Damian who is drumming his fingers impatiently against the lacquered table. His posture is artificially relaxed, likely something he learned from the league or maybe all nervous gremlins do it. You look down at the book again. The sight reminds you of Jay. You tip your head, the loud thunk of your skull is felt more than heard since it was your bad ear that is pressed against the glass. The sound startles Damian who was deep in thought. You hold out the book to him. He must be bored waiting for your order. He pointedly ignores you.

"I don't need that childish drivel." He snipes. You click your teeth feeling a little defensive of the book.

You sound exactly like your grandfather, you think but have enough sense to keep it to yourself. No child needs to be compared to Ra's Al Ghul even if he is a brat.

"Not a fan of-" You look at the book's spine and frown. "-Robert Stevenson?" What kind of dork reads Robert Stevenson for fun? Oh wait, it's the same dork that quotes Shakespeare while bashing heads.

"I have no need for such things."

Of course, he didn’t.

"No, I suppose you don't need anything with the actual text but the margins are quite fascinating." You hold out the book to him again. His eyebrows shoot up looking at you skeptically as he reaches for it. There is no actual written indication that it was Jay's and the kid likely hasn't spent enough time with Jay to actually tell from the way it's written. You look out the window to turn your good ear to him, listening for any reactions he might have. Every now and then you hear a huff of amusement. You smother the smile threatening to form on your lips with your hand.

"Well, the person who owned this certainly had a lot to say." Damian says carefully, handing the book back.

"Jay really was a mouthy kid."

Damian looks at you, little face scrunching up in confusion. You suddenly notice just how easily the booth swallows him up. Why is he so tiny? "If this is Todd's, why do you have it?"

You clasp the book in your hands, your thumb tracing over the creases. "He leant me this book shortly before he died. He-- Well, I told him that I wasn't fond of adventure stories. I prefer books about science and culture. They're much more useful, yanno?" Damian gives a slight nod. You relax into your seat with his understanding. "Well, he thought it was just that I've never read a good one so he gave me this one. Never quite finished it though." you admit a little sheepish after realizing just how sentimental you felt. Your eyes trace over Damian's expression. It's clear that the sentimentality bled through your words and some childish part of you winces at the vulnerability of it. Damian says nothing and doesn't even sneer in derision.

You hum, the tune musical but offkey. “Jason, actually did what you did today awhile ago.” Just like that you begin down a rabbit hole telling the little gremlin about all the stupid shit the older bats have gotten into. And oh boy, there’s a lot.

“So do either of you want to explain what happened and why GAs headmaster called me sounding like he was gonna piss himself?”

“Hmmm, probably not ” you say around your spoonful of mahalabia, not even looking up from your book. Hilariously enough, Damian had also elected to leave Dick’s presence unacknowledged and busy with his own mahalabia. Dick scoot into your side of the booth, purposefully squishing you against the wall with a shiteating grin. He loops his arm around you and pulls you closer, planting a sloppy kiss on your cheek. You blanch and push half heartedly at his chest as he laughs. That laugh makes your heart warm and a relenting smile spreads across your features softening them. Your body twitches forward to kiss but you still when Dick freezes instead you plant a kiss on his cheek as well. Dick relaxes at the familiarity of it and you two settle down.

Damian stares at both of you befuddled. A heat creeps up your cheeks realizing that Dick is practically sitting on you. Dick, on the other hand, seems perfectly content with your current lack of personal space, so you leave it alone despite the incredulous look Damian is giving both of you. Dick snatches up your spoon taking a heap from your dessert. You make an offended noise in the back of your throat which he simply answers with another broad smile. Your lip twitches uncontrollably and your shoulders go slack.

“So what happened?”

You and Damian exchange a look. Damian rolls his eyes at you and you shrug at him performatively. “Nothing.” you two say in a chorus of nonchalance. It only succeeds in annoying Dick, so it was partially successful.

Dick pouts taking another bite of your desert. You stare in disbelief as the grownass man sitting next to you attempts to give you the puppy dog eyes as he eats your desert. You sign on exasperation because it's working and the bastard knows it. Richard John Grayson-Wayne is a manipulative asshole and you are a certified sucker.

You turn to Damian pleadingly begging him to please either help you or end you. Instead, he simply looks the two as if searching for an answer to a question forming in his mind. You run your hand over your face ready to concede when something clicks.

"Man-Bat got into GA and Damian fought him off." you say, praying Dick would catch on to the game. For a terrifying moment, he doesn’t. He blinks at you in confusion and your stomach sinks then a smile slowly spreads across his face lighting up every feature. Your heart swells at the sight.

"Bullshit. What was Man-Bat doing in GA?"

"Dunno,maybe bullying students. I don't know what bat creatures get up to." you say grinning. The picture becomes clear from every outlandish story. To your surprise, Damian joins in with a few vague details of his own giving even more details than you'd initially gathered.

Lunch passes pleasantly with outlandish stories and good food.

“NEWS: Dick Grayson-Wayne, New Face of Wayne Enterprises, Caught in a Torrid Love Affair with a Mystery Woman. Who Could this Exotic Beauty Be?”

“NEWS: Young Wayne Heir Being Extorted by Mystery Woman?”

“NEWS: Wayne Heir with Secret Family?”

Dick wants to evaporate somehow. He stares at the headlines mortified beyond what he ever thought possible. Maybe the floor will be merciful and it’ll finally swallow him as Jason reads another headline in a ridiculous newsreel voice.

“No, no wait. This one is fucking priceless!”

“Jason, please, I am begging you. STOP.” Dick whines, his face flattening against his work table. Tim shrugs, an amused smile adorns his face. Dick is going to scream. “Tim, please please please, make him stooop.” Tim ignores Dick in favor of scrolling through his own tablet looking, frankly unsympathetic.

“Oh a tryst!”

“Jason, you are making it sound so much worse.”

“Dunno, big bird, some of these make it sound like you fucked her over a table in the restaurant.” Jason watches in absolute delight as his older brother attempts to merge with the work bench, the tanned skin of his neck and ears burning a bright shade of crimson. Tim snickers, unhelpfully. Dick loved that his younger brothers were getting along for once. He just hated that for some reason they just had to be united against him. “All I did was kiss her on the cheek and eat her food.”

Jason gasps theatrically, feigning fainting. “Premarital kissing?! Dick, how could you? What’s next? Premarital hand holding? Think of the children.” Jason exclaims, dramatically pointing to Damian who at this point had been ignoring the ruckus Jason was causing.

“Jason, you’re awful and you’re being extremely dramatic.”

“Dick, you don’t exactly have any room to talk in that department.”

“Yeah, Mr. Pretty Man Down, Baby Bird has a point.” Jason says smugly as he offers Tim a fist bump which Tim reciprocates by shaking Jason's fist, a joking smile on his face. Jason snorts as if getting the joke or whatever movie reference this was from.

Tim's face folds into a barely held back smile. The laughter bubbling in the back of his throat straining his features. “I will say it is really funny that they didn’t recognize Damian.”

“You know how they are. They probably came up with something like the whole Damian being Bruce’s kid was actually just a cover up for Dick.” Somewhere in the background Damian makes a very displeased noise but Dick can't be bothered to lift his head to check.

“Please no. That doesn’t even-”

“Here’s one, NEWS: Dick Grayson-Wayne’s Baby Mama? Who is this mysterious woman?” Tim reads out flatly.

“The PR team is going to kill me. No, wait. Y/n is going to kill me first.”

“She won’t. She probably finds this hilarious.”

“How would she even find this funny?”

“Well, she does enjoy your suffering- Oh shit. This one might piss her off.” Jason clears his throat, sliding back into the newsreel voice. “DICK GRAYSON, HANDSOME PLAYBOY - WITH YET ANOTHER GIRLFRIEND - WILL HE EVER SETTLE DOWN?”

Dick is half tempted to throw his own tablet at the wall. What did he do to deserve this? You certainly don’t.

“Hey, at least, they called you handsome.” Tim laughs placatingly. It doesn’t work, of course.

Dick looks up at his little brother ruefully. “Oh yeah because the stuff about my looks was definitely the issue.”

“Well considering your morning routine...”

“I haven’t even been on a date so who are these other girlfriends?!”

“Well, me and Jason thought the same thing.” Tim shoots down sneering. When did his sweet baby brother turn to the dark side? Likely, Jason’s influence but deep down he knows Tim has always been capable of evil. Jason is cackling proudly.

“I don't see why you're concerning yourself with this drivel.” Damian says, swiping the tablet right in front of Dick forcing him to look up. Dick smiles at him wearily. “Dami, it’s a little hard when a photo of me kissing y/n on the cheek is plastered everywhere with weird headlines.” Damian tilts his head considering it but he shakes his head muttering something about pointlessness.

“Goddammit, Disco Stick!” The sound of your voice ringing out into the bunker sends their banter crashing to a halt. Dick feels his heart jump to his throat. He-- This was how he was going to die and for once he wasn’t sure he deserved it or not. You stand at the doorway haloed in bright light. At least, his angel of death would be the prettiest one, he thinks-- all the oxygen leaving his lungs.

Crumpled in your fist was a newspaper. Dick can feel his brothers take a step back as you draw near. Your footfalls were as steady as a pulse which made Dick’s own heart rate ratchet up. Your face is carefully impassive the way it always is when your anger was dosed with something else. Dick is sincerely hoping Jason is right about you being amused by the headlines.

You stop in front of him, eyes narrowed and jaw tight. You glower down at him frankly looking murderous before you snort and your face breaks into a smile. The thick tension in the air dissipates and the room releases its collective breath. The smile on your face grows even brighter. Nope, this is how Dick dies, his breath catching in his lungs as his mind fizzes out from the sight of your smile.

“I’m sorry?” Dick lifts himself off the table just barely, still bracing for any sudden wave of anger that will, justifiably, roll over you at some point.

You lean your body on to the spot next to him, letting the table support your weight. Straightening the newspaper in your hands, you frown. “I look terrible in this.”

“You look beautiful.” Dick blurts out. You raise your brow at him incredulously. Jason folds over trying to hold back laughter, his shoulders trembling. Tim just shrinks from second hand embarrassment.

“No, she is correct. She looks repulsive.” Damian says flatly as he snatches the paper from you.

You let out a breathy laugh. “To be fair, anyone would look repulsive next to professional pretty boy Dickie Wayne.” There was no sharpness in your teasing. You look at the photo over Damian’s shoulder. It was a cute photo actually. Dick’s arm loops around your shoulder as he gives you a kiss on your cheek as Damian blanches at Dick’s very public display of affection. It was hilariously easy to see where they got the idea that you two were a couple. You weren’t. You haven’t been for awhile. The thought wrenches something a dull ache inside you. You flatten your lips preventing the edges from dipping into a frown.

A look crosses between Jason and Tim. Tim leans over, asking in a hushed whisper, “I thought they were back together.”

“Dunno they act like it.” Jason shrugs watching your movement. As if to prove his point, you and Dick lean into each other’s space as you bicker about the merits of Gothamite photographers. Jason is half tempted to shove you two together.

“What are you two talking about?” You ask, finally leaning away from Dick.

“Nothing-”

“They were pondering the state of your relationship. I myself have been pondering it.”

For a moment, your eyes meet. For a moment, you are back in a drab hotel in Moscow. For a moment, you are crying your heart out in his arms trying to push him away.

You click your teeth and stare Damian in the eyes not entirely sure what kind of emotions they were betraying. “We were a thing.” Damian’s brow shoots up. You hear someone’s hand slap against their forehead.

You flush wanting to disappear but hold your stance. You hear Dick chuckle beside you as he stands shoulder to shoulder with you. Something in you eases with the closeness, like a gap being filled. “We used to be a couple.” Dick supplies, saving you from your flailing. You tap your finger against the back of his hand as a silent thank you. He taps yours twice in reciprocation. You look down trying to hide a smile.

Jason and Tim look at each other again and nod.

“We should probably go.” Jason says carrying Damian under his arm.

“Todd, unhand me! We are not done here!”

“We’ll see you two later.” Tim waves giving Dick a knowing smile. Dick’s heart jumps up to his throat while his stomach drops to the floor. Is this really the time for his brother’s to play cupid?

You lean in, letting your body press into Dick’s side as you listen to their footsteps fade away. Your head settling on his shoulder hand bracing you against the workbench. You let the stillness settle and make everything around you more solid.

Dick shifts a bit, his fingers lacing in with yours. The gesture makes your heart twinge, the chasm in your chest yawning with longing. You swallow. The air is thick with unspoken words like smoke clogging up your lungs. You think that if you could just pluck the right one out of thin air, you could clear the air.

‘I love you’ itches in the back of your throat but what right did you have to say that to him even after all this time.

Beside you, Dick is smiling and relishing your presence. The silver glint of your earring winking at him from beneath your hair. He had gotten you that on your first date, a little souvenir you got to commemorate the occasion.

Dick pivots in front of you making your breath catch. His free hand brushing your hair behind your ear revealing the silver robin on your ear. Silver robins. You had at the time laughed at the absurdity of it but here they were years later. Dick’s hands settle on either side of you boxing you in against the table. Even when he’s got you trapped like this, you feel at ease knowing Dick would never hurt you. Dick leans his forehead against yours, his fingers still intertwined with yours. Your pulse is loud in your ears. You lean your forehead against his, eyes sliding close soaking up the contact.

“It’s always been you.” Dick says breathlessly. The words do not register, too dreamlike in their conception. You always hoped and wished that you could take it back, that you had never left, that he would love you the same way he did before but you were never foolish enough to hold on to things like that with both hands. Yet here Dick was whispering things that you only let yourself dream of.

“It’s always been you.” He repeats as if the repetition could make it more real. You swallow the lump in your throat trying to find your voice but you’re afraid that once you speak, the room would catch fire and the dream would dissolve into harsh reality.

Dick gently cups your face and for a moment you let yourself be lost in the sea of blue. The stinging in your eyes makes you blink even if you don’t want to. You lick your lips as if somewhere on them were the right words.

You can’t even fathom the combination of words that could encapsulate the cocktail of longing and love you felt for him.

Your tongue darts out, wetting your bottom lip as your eyes focus on his lips. You swallow again your throat feeling thick even as you lean into his space, pushing off the work bench. Your nose rubbing against his, his long lashes fluttering against your cheek and tickling your skin. Dick leans in, his lips on yours, the pressure barely enough to make contact. You twitch forward, lips melting against his. The world around you stills and disintegrates leaving only him in its wake.

The kiss is all tender softness, a promise of love and loyalty quietly exchanged between you. A delicate push and pull. Undemanding yet uncompromising in its gentle intensity.

You both pull back, only barely. Your skins still thrum with hunger for contact. Dick leans in again, his lips brushing against yours making them tingle at the sensation. Murmured breaths exchanged between you. This time you both find the right words.

Dick turning to reader seeing the familiar glint of her earing

“I still love you.”

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

I was thinking it was just them in the cave standing next to each others fingers twining with each other leaning into each other's space

he brushes the strands of her hair away

After brushing her hair away he presses his forehead against hers and he just kind of comes out with it

like he'd been holding back on saying it but couldn't anymore

Why not have the reader do something like this?

What if she nudges her nose against his? Or rubs her nose against his, like an Eskimo kiss? And it’s silent, her eyelashes flutter against his cheek. They say in Inuit, when you feel eyelashes stroke on your skin like that, it’s a way of saying “I love you” without actually saying it.

And maybe Dick knows that? Without her actually saying the words and he just smiled and captures her lips in a delicate kiss. And when they pull back, they both say it at the same time against each other’s lip, all hushed and murmured?

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

Thanks for reading!

Taglist: @batarella , @anothertimdrakestan , @lucy-roo , @multifandomgirl-us , @idkmanicantenglish ,@birdy-bat-writes , @boosyboo9206 , @americasmarauders , @l-inkage , @arestorationofbalance , @cloudie-skay , @wunderstell @hyp-oh-critical

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson #dick grayson x you #dick grayson imagine #Damian Wayne #batboys x reader #batfamily x reader #damian wayne x sister!reader #dc x reader #dc reader insert #merc!reader

542 notes · View notes

babyybitchhh · 3 years ago

Note

Zoro + consensual + (going to shoot my shot) breeding kink/creampie (ps I adore you 💓)

I adore you too, lovely bunny. I hope you like it! 😘

♥♥♥♥

Zoro grunts against the outer shell of your ear, sending a vibrating tremor through your cotton stuffed head when he cums again. It was the second time in half an hour and certainly not the last. But he refused to hold back when he got you alone like this, tucked away together in a rare moment of privacy on the cramped single bed you’d rented for yourself and (secretly) for him. You already knew he would keep going until exhaustion inevitably won out in the end, more intent to savor the rush of release than drag it out, and you softly keen at the spread of sticky warmth flooding your cervix.

He was truly making a mess of you, evidenced by the obscenely loud squelch that rises between your bodies when he pulls out to let it all ooze and dribble down the cleft of your ass. You’d probably need to request a fresh set of sheets at the rate you two were going.

“Fuck,” he seethes, pushing up on an elbow just enough to reach down with the opposite hand. You tip your chin to watch Zoro grasp himself and smear the bubbling, creamy discharge across your labia with the head of his cock, whining in the back of your throat while he does it. There was so much. “Look how bad I needed this. Look at how bad I needed you … god, I feel like I could just keep fucking you all night long.”

You don’t doubt he could with his stamina, and you bring your hand up to gently wipe at the beading sweat on his brow. “Maybe you should drink some water first … I don’t want you to get dehydrated.”

His one good eye focuses on your face, as hazy and obscured as it is, to take in the sight of you all flushed and hot, spread out underneath him. The languorously slow grin that spreads across his mouth inspires a weak little pitter patter inside your chest, your smile quickly mirroring his.

“Don’t care,” Zoro mutters, laying himself out on top of you once again so he can shove his face into the crook of your neck. The hand not clutching his cock worms it’s way between your back and the mattress, pressing you so close that it was hard to tell where one of you stopped and the other began. “Just wanna’ keep filling up that cute pussy. Want you to leak with me for the next week.”

You can’t stop your breath from catching. “Z - Zoro - if you do that I’ll - -“

“I don’t care.” He insists, taking a lazy nip at your neck.

The pressure of blunt teeth bends you to his will embarrassingly fast and, head lolling on the pillow, you allow yourself to bask in the sensation of his cockhead drawing nonsensical patterns through your slick coated folds. It felt like you were absolutely drenched with it and he was only on the second round.

“You just drive me crazy. Can’t stand it anymore. No one else could ever make me cum like this.” Growling against your sweat damp skin, Zoro lets the tip catch at your entrance and he slowly starts to sink in again. “Damn!”

You gasp, mewling at the hard weight of him slipping and sliding against your guts. Penetration is made smooth by virtue of the sheer amount of semen he’s already pumped into you but that doesn’t stop the burning stretch from being felt. Your toes curl even as you bring your arms up to wind around his broad back, clutching at hard muscle while he spears you straight down the middle.

“Think I wanna’ breed you for real this time. Make you mine from the inside out. Don’t want anyone else sniffing around you, if I can help it.”

A low, petering groan tumbles out of him when he comes to a shuddering halt with the firm expanse of his pelvis pressed tight against the plushy give of yours. The two of you stay frozen like that for a long beat until the slow roll of his narrow hips pulls a faltering sound from the very depths of your twisting lungs.

“And you’d look so good, all swollen and heavy for me. Nnghnn, just thinking about it is gonna’ make me bust again … you drive me wild, y’know that? You really, really do.”

Zoro quietly seethes as he pushes up again, bracing on his hands so he can watch your expression pinch in ecstasy when his thrusts pick back up. He takes it slow this time, just sedately pumping in and out of your slicking cunt at a tortuously staggered pace that leaves you writhing underneath him, trying to choke back your moans but failing miserably at it. He was just too much. Both in the physical sense and in the things he was saying to you with that deep, rumbling tone of his.

You were steadily creeping towards the edge of oblivion.

“Y - you - ahhn! Really mean that?”

“I do.” He emphasizes this with a particularly sharp snap of his hips to make you toss your head back, crying out for him. “You’re mine. I don’t want anyone else to ever touch you. Or even look at you. And I won’t stop until you’re completely full, ngghn - haagnnghh … you’ll be able to feel me sloshing around inside you for days by the time I’m through. I promise you that.”

You shudder against him so violently it forces a wheezing, sucker punched noise out of him, your pussy wildly contracting around the thick intrusion in a palpitating flutter. The thought alone was damn near enough to send you spiraling and you desperately cling to him, struggling just to breathe through it.

“Please, aahhn! Zoro, please! I want you to - to give me your cum. All of it! I wh - want it all!”

“You don’t need to ask for it.” He grits, hunching further over you. “I’ll gladly give you everything I have and then some.”

#zoro x reader #rorona zoro #one piece #self insert bullshit #my writing #baby bitch celebration

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honey-coloured-passion · 4 years ago

Text

It’s A Secret (Sapnap x Reader)

first fic first fic!

summary: Dream convinces you and Sap to join a competition where the loser gets exposed, but nothing ever goes as planned when your favorite boy is involved : )

“That’s the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard in my life.” you laughed, rolling your eyes at Sapnap and Dream’s antics. “C’monnn it’ll be so funny the viewers will eat it up!” Dream cooed while you groaned “you say that cuz you always get like more views than Sap and I combined!” To which Dream choked out laughter through his familiar wheeze. “Oh come on, how much money for you to do it?” you heard Sapnap die from laughter over the call at Dream’s bribe before he piped up, “whoever gets exposed you’re buying dinner Dream,” and Dream immediately agreed. “Absolutely worth it, you in y/n?” and you shook your head, “why the hell not I guess.”

You started up your stream, adjusting your headset nervously as you watched chat speed up at the title “Least viewers gets exposed vs Dream and Sap” all confused as to what was going on as their three favorite streamers all went live simultaneously. “Gooooood day chat what’s up!” you grinned, thanking a couple gifters and waiting to see Dream pop up in team speak to give the challenge information. “You guys better stick with me today, I don’t wanna lose the secret challenge,” you laughed, noticing Sap and Dream joined the channel.

“Ready to learn the rules dear viewers?” Dream laughed maniacally. You watched your chat going absolutely crazy.

“Here’s how it works, we are gonna stream for thirty minutes doing everything we can to get the most viewers, then the person with the least at the end has to tell a secret they wrote down on stream, and trust me guys they’re all sooo good.” Dream wheezed while Sapnap chuckled before continuing. “We all told our secrets to George who didn’t want to stream with us cuz he’s lazy but it works cuz now he’s our keeper, so it’ll be fair and George can confirm all the secrets are crazy,” Your chat was losing it’s mind asking you what your secret was.

“So let the view-competition begin” and with that, Dream left the call. “Sap you gonna stay and hang or leave?” you asked, racking your brain to find a way to get hella viewers as soon as possible. “I’ll hang” Sapnap answered to your relief. “Good I can farm your viewers then,” you teased with a giggle. Then your phone started to buzz, and you saw Dream was tweeting out the information and begging for people to come to his stream. “Oh hell no, chat help me out!” you laughed, going to tweet on your own account.

10 minutes in: Dream 68k, You 43k, Sapnap 39k.

“Sapnapppp I’m so excited to learn your deepest darkest secret” you cooed with an evil laugh while Sapnap punched your minecraft character. “Whatever I’ll clutch up, work smarter not harder dear y/n,” you could hear the playful tone in his voice, swallowing the butterflies that kept trying to surface. “How can you work smarter if you barely have a braincell dork!” you teased, beginning to crit out his character when he realized, pearling away with a screech. “You do NOT want to play this game with me I’ll destroy you,” he ate a golden apple then began running towards you axe in hand while you screeched, running away.

15 minutes in: Dream 65k, Sapnap 45k, You 44kk.

“Sapnap how the hell did you convince four different channels to raid you in the past five minutes WHAT” you pouted with a laugh, knowing you could beat him in viewers if you just got one or two more raids. “Mhm a magician never reveals his tricks,” you rolled your eyes though your chat kept spamming “why is y/n blushing so much?” and “SIMPNAP SIMPNAP” because Sapnap was helping you decorate and finish the design of your house. You had to agree with chat, he was adorable, bringing you flowers, collecting the exact type of wood you needed, helping to fill your chests, you were beginning to forget about the competition and just enjoy his presence.

20 minutes in: Dream 68k, Sapnap 46k, You 45k.

“Oh my god it’s so close between you guys” Dream wheezed as he joined your voice channel. “Hey Dreammm wanna send me some stray viewers?” you giggled while Dream denied you. “Mhm no but maybe you can ask Mr. Simpnap to send you some of his? Heard it’s not the only thing he’s been giving you and I figured I’d crash the date.” Dream teased, his tone dangerous while Sapnap exclaimed, “hell no I’m not losing this competition and I am not a simp, especially not for y/n” Sapnap drew out your name, you could hear the smile you adored dancing on his lips. Chat was going crazy, though it was pretty well known how close you and Sapnap were due to the two of you always being on call together and just being found on the SMP hanging out, it was rare the two of you gave the fans this much flirting in one stream. Not that there weren’t hundreds of Y/N x Sapnap compilations on youtube of people pointing out how you and Sap had been in a TeamSpeak room together alone for five hours straight, or him getting defensive of you on the SMP, or him constantly complimenting your skill during MCC’s. Not to mention you always asking where Sapnap was, or someone else asking and you answering quickly, showing how frequently the two of you talked. Needless to say, he was one of your best friends, but that wasn’t gonna stop you from destroying him in this competition.

25 minutes in: Dream 78k, Sapnap 54k, You 51k.

“Hello to my new viewers! Glad you came back to support! Huge shoutout to Niki for the raid and all the raiders who stayed I love y’all!” Your palms were getting sweaty, you needed to get 3k viewers in five minutes or George was gonna drop one of your most embarrassing secrets to the world. “How are you feeling Miss Y/n?” Dream teased, he knew he was safe. “Shut up Dream if I lose I’m ordering some expensive ass food for you to pay for,” you shot back, making him die of laughter. “At least I’m not the one who’s gonna get exposed in front of like 180 thousand views,” you flipped off the camera with a grin, hoping he was looking at your stream.

28 Minutes in: Dream 78k Sapnap 55k, You 51k.

“Man I think it’s over what do you think Sap?” Dream teased while you laughed, still hopeful that something could happen in two minutes. “Eh I say give it another minute then we call it. You never know” Sap replied cooly. “Shut up you’re like 4 thousand people ahead it’s over for me” you pretended to cry, making Sapnap and Dream break into laughter. “You really don’t wanna lose huh.” Sapnap said, “um duh, this sucks,” you answered, quickly refreshing your view count.

Then something crazy happened.

~Sapnap is raiding with a party of 55k~

30 minutes, time up: You 110k, Dream 78k, Sapnap 0.

“WHAT” Dream was the first to scream. You did a triple take before screeching into the mic “SAPNAP WHAT ARE YOU DOING” to which he quietly replied, “I didn’t want you to be sad.” making your cheeks flush to an ungodly warmth. “Oh- uh does this still count? What’s happening?” you reached for your water bottle when George joined the call.

“Interesting ending, but I know the secret so I guess I’d say it makes sense” You froze. “What the hell does that mean?” You said, noticing Sapnap had turned on his camera function in the call. “O-ok, George you gonna announce his secret?” Dream tried to take control, noticing his chat was spinning out of control. George piped up, "I think it’s better Sapnap says it. I’m just here to make sure he doesn’t chicken out,” Then Sapnap cleared his throat. “Well so uh, I guess my secret is...” You saw him look straight into the camera, his eyes felt like they were meeting yours.

“I like you y/n. Like a lot.”

Your jaw fell open, George and Dream began screaming and whooping, and your chat absolutely lost it’s mind, going so fast your chat function crashed. Your immediate reaction was to mute yourself on stream. “I’m muted now- Sap- Nick, are you serious?” you gulped, staring at Sapnap’s video while he couldn’t stop grinning. “You really think I’d do all this just to lie? No chance in hell. We can talk about it after stream but I thought it’d be fun to do it live. I can help you end stream if you want?” Your brain was flying high, your heart beating out of your chest, and your mods were begging for help.

“O-okay. Uh hey chat! Nice stream today, record high viewer ship thanks to uh- Nick- Sapnap, thanks to Sapnap um, I’m gonna get off now,” You took a few deep breaths, gaining your traction before continuing. You hovered your mouse over the end stream button but decided you had one more thing to say. Leaning close into the mic with a smile you whispered,

“Oh and Sapnap, I like you too”

~live ended~

checkout my other sapnap fic!

#sapnap #sapnap x reader #dteam #dream team x reader #dream #georgenotfound #dream team fanfic #dteam fanfic #mcyter #mcyters #mcyter fanfic #dream x reader #dreamwastaken

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