#Where is the button for I fucking hate bards?

[g33se]

Playing bg3 right now. Got to the point with the druids and the tiefling city. A couple of opinions about the party:

Lae'zel: I liked her a lot when I met her first (competent, straightforward, my type of girl) but she's being very rude about the tieflings. Given that I'm playing a tiefling... well. Not keen on the way she compared us to cockroaches or the way she made the tiefling bow- granted the tieflings did have reason to want to stab her. So liking her quite a bit less now. Still, looking at her respectfully. She is hot.

Shadowheart: Never really liked elves all that much. Not super keen on the way she did a racism at Lae'zel as soon as we met her, but the moments of emotional vulnerability have me liking her a lot more.

Astarion: Stupid loser bastard. That man is clearly a vampire- I mean, look at the eyes/teeth/the literal VAMPIRE BITE on his neck and the ten thousand clues he's been dropping. Sexy of him to greet me by holding a knife to my neck I thought he was going to rob me. He's such a fucking idiot I want to jump his bones.

Gale: This man has bard energy. At least, the way I play bards. Also kind of single dad energy? Just a random wizard running around. Just a Dude, if you will. Had to put him back in the campsite since I'm a sorcerer and party comp will get fucked though.

Wyll: Thought he was a paladin at first. Then he started doing warlocky things. I like how he acts it's a nonstandard edgy warlock thing, I hope his storyline pans out well. Really like his back-and-forth with Lae'zel about ever doing nice things with her life. Immediately taken with the fight scene I saw him in first, looked fucking epic.

Overall, I really love Mind Flayers. They're fucking cool, that little starter scene when I converted a woman into one was fucking nightmare fuel. I did see the button saying perfect and press it knowing what it would probably mean. What the hell were they doing in Avernus though. And isn't Zariel the angel who fell because she wanted to kill demons with GREAT PREJUDICE?

I've also been save scumming whenever I steal stuff a lot because, habit. I just want to collect all the boxes and put them into the campsite. Also reloaded the same save three times because I wanted Asterion to take that one potato off a crying guard. (Probably going to try to see if I can do a revivify on the dead guard later? I don't know if the game has the 1 min timer on revivify or not.) Also I do like how yoinking just makes people do 'hey wtf' or 'you're getting arrested' because instantly trying to kill the party is. Weird.

Also reloaded the save once because I couldn't revivify Shadowheart because she died on stairs that were on fire. I know how to play dnd I just have a hard time conceptualizing it with game graphics.

Lower level dnd's always interesting. The take action to restore someone else at 1hp is also... inspired. Would be interested to see normal downing rules- that would force me to think in more dnd terms to play the game. I also keep clicking wrong and wasting attacks on the space right next to a person.

Weird how everyone can use scrolls.

I hate the 1/short rest mage hand it's a fucking cantrip and it can do, like, nothing. Going to download a mod for it later.

Going to have to use the speak with dead amulet a lot I hope. I love that spell. Not quite sure how I feel about your camp being a separate room- I feel like it trivializes inventory management and sending things there is. Weird. Where is all the weight going. I do like stacking all the boxes I find though.

Thought the Absolute people were part of a mind flayer cult so had to kill a few of them.

Current leader druid is a bit cringe. Don't want to kill her but definitely ousting her asap. Stop being a dick to my people (tieflings). Also really liking the tiefling responses so far.

Also wonder at the deal about the tiefling village. They seem to have a lot of hell stuff going on there.

Anyway, this is cool! Looking forward to what happens next.

#bg3 #bg3 spoilers #shadowheart #gale #wyll #lae'zel #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #astarion

[pheonyxian]

Baldur's Gate 3 Sexless Any% Part 3

I think some of my mutuals are using this as an actual way of knowing what BG3 is actually about so I figured I'd use this edition to talk about the plot and npcs a bit. Might slow down or stop these at some point? I thought the original premise was funny but I don't know if it's liveblog an entire 100 hour game funny. Regardless feel free to block the tag I'm adding if you don't want to hear any future rambles. Do love/hate it when a game I didn't intend to like so much gets its grubby mind flayer tentacles wrapped around my brain so hard.

The OC PC: RPing through the game as my OC Ank. I wasn't sure if picking an oc with strong psychic powers would rub against the mind flayer plot but so far it's been a perfect choice. Ank is traditionally a villain but I'm not playing a villain for my first play through, so it's been fun to rp him in a scenario where he's g o o d and his life didn't take a turn for the worse. He's also traditionally blind, but obviously the game isn't set up for that. I was originally just imagining cutscenes playing out differently if sight was involved, but maybe it'll be more interesting to consider him in a pre-blinded state. I'm sure certain repeated actions in the ocular region won't have any u n f o r t u n a t e effects.

Mind Flayers: The setup for the plot is that mind flayers have infected you (and your companions, and a large number of npcs) with mind flayer parasites and you have to remove them before you turn into fully grown mind flayers. Except for some reason you haven't turned yet and you get cool psychic powers with them.

The Guardian: In addition to making your own character at start, you also can character create your "guardian." Everyone I know just hits the randomize button because they've already spent an hour fussing over every detail of their character, but I knew this was coming and already planned my guardian out. And uh, like I said, Ank's traditionally a villain and the only guardian-like character he's ever had is uh... I'm going to be honest with you, if the guardian turns out to be the big bad of the game that's going to be funny as all fuck. I'm sure there's very little chance of that though, it's not like there's anything evil about telling you to s h o v e w o r m s i n t o y o u r s k u l l.

Withers: Withers is more of a mechanic than a character. I do want to know his story though. He's an undead or lich or something who will revive dead characters (for a cost) hire generic undead companions (for a cost, I guess if you want to resign your poor companion's unfortunate fate) and change your cast (for the same cost as undead friends.) I guess money still has use in the afterlife. I haven't had to use his services yet but I've had a lot of close calls and dwindling Revivify scrolls so it's only a matter of time.

Volo: Just Gale but a bard. Not a playable character Bard mind you. At least not yet. I don't know what his deal is. He offered to extract the mind flayer parasites with a pair of needles which I almost agreed to to see if he'd actually poke Ank's eye out.

And updates on companion stories:

Shadowheart: Decided that after a week of traveling and nearly dying together it was appropriate to breach topics again. Pretty sure the game expected me to ask these immediately once the option was available but like I said, we respect boundaries in this house. Anyway, Shadowheart's a cleric of Shar, who by context I'm assuming is bad. The way she put her worship didn't sound that bad, about embracing the darkness as a way of stripping falsehoods, right up until she started talking about toppling governments and killing innocents, so I'm keeping her at a 2/10 for being batshit insane.

Also her magical artifact is required for keeping me alive and she stole it and do we really want the e v i l cleric to have that kind of p o w e r over M E?

Lae'zel: Lae'zel sits at the very strange crossroad of honorable and completely ruthless. She's totally fine with killing your enemies but you have to do it the right way, and b r a i n w o r m s isn't the right way. I'd say the right way is whatever works. 7/10

Gale: All of my attempts to pry into Gale's backstory (boundaries? what boundaries?) were foiled by poor dice rolls so no updates on his dark and traumatic past. I did give him two magical artifacts to slurp up because he looked like he was going to die of heat stroke at camp. I've been avoiding spoilers but I had heard that it's hilariously difficult to not accidentally romance Gale due to a bug, and the fact that you can start his romance path without realizing it. Thankfully Ank is smart enough to realize that when you cast spells together that makes the air smell like rosewater it's time to high tail it out of there. 2/10 as smooth as a slip n' slide.

That said, I don't know if it's been patched yet, but according to the internet there's like a 50/50 chance the game thinks we've already banged. Tbd on that one. Sexless any% is slowly turning into Oops! Fucked Everyone thanks purely on technicalities.

Astarion: Based on the way people talk about him I genuinely thought the pompous personality was just a facade and that he'll eventually tip his hand and reveal he's been evil this entire time. But honestly based the bits of backstory he's (refreshingly, compared to the rest of these idiots) given out I think he's just the guy who, once given the keys to power, will drive right off sanity road. Regardless, he used to serve an abusive vampire lord so I guess we're going vampire hunting in the future. 10/10 bad influence gay best friend who tells you to chug and shove parasites up your eyes.

Wyll: Wyll is a warlock who serves a fiend that forces him to hunt down and kill demons, which sounds like a fine deal until some tricky wordplay came in. After refusing to kill Karlach (Tiefling, not demon) his patron changed him into a Tiefling too. Honestly? Upgrade. 6/10 nice guy but surrounded by more colorful characters.

Karlach: Ok here’s why Karlach is a 10/10 character even without taking sex appeal into consideration. She’s a Tiefling who served in some demonic war against her will and had her heart replaced with an infernal engine that constantly burns her and anyone she touches with searing hot pain. Despite this she has constant big sister energy and her biggest complaint is how touch starved she is. I don’t even care if it comes bundled with a sex scene, Karlach is getting a goddamn hug before the credits roll.

#BG3 sexless any percent liveblog #if you know my character Ank though please do read this one #He’s having a time

[inber]

“S’play,” Lambert said, squinting at the bottom of his empty cup, “S’play truth or dare.”

“What are we, little milkmaids on... a supper break?” Eskel snarked, leaning back on one hand. And then, “I wanna go first.”

“’Kay, Eskel, I dare—” Geralt began.

“No, no, y’gotta ask him if he wants dare. Or the other one.” Lambert said authoritatively, pouring more vodka into his cup, only half-missing.

“Fine,” Geralt conceded, “Dare or, or the other one, Eskel?”

“Dare.” Eskel said, accepting the flask of liquor from Lambert.

“See?” Geralt crowed, “See, he picked dare anyways—”

“You gotta play the game proper though!” Lambert pointed a finger, “Else—”

“I dare myself to punch both of you.” Eskel said, throwing back more of the rough-distilled drink.

“That’s not how ‘dare or the other one’ works!” Lambert said, glowering.

“Eskel, dare you to... take Vesemir’s favourite shirt from laundry, n’ wear it to breakfast.” Geralt said, effectively derailing Lambert’s protest train.

The two witchers giggled together as Eskel rose on wobbly feet, zig-zagging his way towards the line where clothes dried. When he returned, the pale grey shirt was buttoned over his clothing, ill-fitting across the shoulders and too baggy at the front.

The three of them guffawed at the hearth. More drink was poured and sunk. Eskel nudged Geralt.

“Y’go. Truth, or the other one.”

“Truth.” Geralt said, purely because he’d forgotten what the other option was.

“Pssff, chicken.” Lambert accused.

“That fancy bard y’talk about. Do you miss him in winter?” Eskel asked.

“Oh, oh, good!” Lambert clapped his hands together. “Do you, Geralt? D’you write him letters? Dear—dear fancy bard—”

“Jaskier, he’s called.” Eskel helpfully supplied.

“Dear Jaskier,” Lambert’s voice had gone squeaky falsetto, “Without you to warm my beefy buttocks, this season is—”

“Dare.” Geralt snapped, glaring at his brothers, “Dare, then. Fuckers.”

“Fine,” Eskel said, “Dare you to bring the bard next winter.”

Lambert burst into laughter. “Oh, fuck off, Eskel. He can’t even get over himself enough to say he cares for the fop, let alone bring him t'meet us.”

Geralt crossed his arms sulkily. “Only ‘cause, 'cause you’d scare him, both of you. And you smell.”

“You smell!” Lambert deflected.

“Listen, shut up,” Eskel said, and paused for a long moment with his tongue poking out, “Shut up. Maybe we smell, but we’d never scare him. On purpose.”

Geralt flicked lazy-hazy drunk eyes between the two men sat in front of him. Idiots, the both of them, he decided. Even if there was something soft and eager about their expressions.

It occurred to him with a sudden clarity that maybe they were curious about the lark that sung their praises; the human that Geralt had mentioned in passing so many times that a fondness could not be mistaken.

“’Kay.” Geralt said, reluctant, “I’ll ask him. But don’t be mad when he doesn’t want to spend months freezing his balls off with us. He’s very, y’know. Fine. Likes soft things. Good food.”

“Ohhh,” Lambert breathed, “Geralt’s scared we’re not fancy enough.”

“I’m not scared!”

“Yeah, y’are.” Eskel grinned.

“I hate both of you.” Geralt said, drinking so he wouldn’t have to talk, or think.

“Lambert, dare or... truth?” Eskel nudged the youngest wolf.

“It’s called truth or dare.” Lambert burst, exasperated. “And dare, obviously.”

“Dare you... to take a shot of black gull.”

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

Vesemir had seen his fair share of nonsense in the long winters spent with his pups. Opening the larder door to find them tangled in a pile beside the potatoes, unconscious and reeking of booze and tomfoolery, was unfortunately not wholly unusual. Geralt’s eyes creaked half-open at the intrusion.

“Can—can Jaskier stay, next year?” Geralt slurred.

“Why the fuck is Eskel wearing my best shirt?” Vesemir barked.

“Truth or... the other one.” Lambert’s voice was muffled against Geralt’s thigh.

They all startled like stray cats when Vesemir bashed a spoon against the back of a saucepan.

Training that year was rather brutal. Eskel was lumped with laundry duty until the snow began to melt.

But the year after that, there was music.

#the witcher fandom #drabble #nonsense #fortune writes #tw drinking #inber

[wherethewordsare]

#44. Im your new neighbor and git locked out, help. With uhhhhh tiktoker jask who likes to sing in the stairwells 👀 bonus points if they become boyfriends loooool

thanks for the ask Cheese!!! I hope you enjoy!! <3

I also want to thank @buttercupbard for being a really amazing sport about me borrowing their handle for the tik tok bits!!! I’ve sent some weird dms in my life but honestly, that was the oddest CYA i’ve ever done. I’m super glad it worked out though!!! Thank you again so much, Buttercup! 

44. I’m your new neighbor and I got locked out, help!

The first time he heard it, Geralt had been taking his laundry down to the bottom floor because the units on his level were full. It was only for a moment, but who ever it was who was singing scurried away before he had a chance to make out the song they were singing. 

The second time, he had passed the door to the stairwell on his way to grab his mail. This time though he was careful as he pushed the door open as gently as he could. The lyrics to Blackbird resonated in the concrete and steel and it made Geralt want to call home. It was a song he remembered his father singing at the kitchen sink while doing clean up in the evening or working in the garage on weekends. 

Geralt tried not to be a creep about it, but it was quickly becoming a habit that was hard to break, sneaking into the side stairwell and listening to one of his neighbors sing. It felt somewhere between a terrible invasion of privacy and a private concert. 

There were songs that made him ache with nostalgia, where he ended up calling his dad after or texting his brothers. There were songs that made him want to go work out and go get something accomplished. And then there were those songs that made him want to climb the stairs and face that voice and take them into his arms because he sounded so lonely. Geralt usually slipped back out when those feelings started to creep in. 

Omg, Geralt, you have to see this dude! He’s insane!

Eskel sent him a link to a tik tok. It took a moment but after it loaded, Geralt nearly threw his phone across the room as if it had burned him. The only thing that stopped him were the blue eyes and brilliant smile that looked back at him. 

@buttercupbard 

I think my fan is back on the lower floor. Hope he enjoys today’s #lavieenrose 🙌🎶🌹🌹

Oh... Oh no! No no no, this could not be happening. Geralt watched, listening to the same rendition of La Vie en Rose he had heard the day before. Geralt knew only just enough about tik tok to know that the 500k under the little heart and the fact that he knew that this Buttercup Bard had only sung that song yesterday, he could deduce the facts in front of him. One, the singer knew Geralt snuck in to listen, and two, so did his probably thousands of fans.

Geralt clicked the little chat button on the side, pulling up the comments. 

“You should go say hello!”

@buttercupbard: Oh no, I don’t know if they’d like that, otherwise they would have come up to say hello by now! 

“Wouldn’t it be sweet if they found your tik toks?”

@buttercupbard: 👀👀🙈🙈🙈 Think they’d give me a review? Three words or less!

He wanted to scream. He wanted to run. He wanted to walk up those stairs and be able to drink in the full view of this Buttercup Bard as he sang knowingly to an audience of one. He wanted the earth to crack open at his feet and swallow him whole. 

He went back to the video and pulled open Buttercup’s account, scrolling through what seemed like a lot of videos for just a few weeks. He found the one labeled Blackbird and gave it a listen. The caption simply said “This might be the last time I can sing here, someone came in again.” 

Geralt frowned as he paused the video, looking down at those bright blue eyes that kept flitting away from the camera to make sure no one was coming. Geralt remembered standing at the bottom of the stairwell, leaning against the cold concrete with eyes closed. It had been peaceful but now it felt as though Geralt had just been encroaching. He couldn’t go back, not now. What would he say if Buttercup came down. 

He also had to stop calling him Buttercup, but he had no other name for him. Geralt stopped going to the stairwell and he did his best to not pull up tik tok once in a while just to get his fix. He was doing fine, at least for a little while.

It was about three weeks later when Geralt finally broke down and opened the app he had downloaded just to watch Buttercup sing. That’s when he noticed the little pink ring around his icon. 

Buttercup was live right now. Geralt’s feet moved under him without his noticing, walking him to the door. His hand was on the handle as he watched, his whole attention on the screen in his hand. 

“I don’t know what happened to them. I guess I wasn’t meant for that kind of cheesy romance story after all!” Buttercup laughed and it sounded like a melody all in itself. Comments rocketed passed and Jaskier chuckled, ducking his head. “Well, you never know, I can’t be everyone’s cup of tea. Do you guys want to hear another song? I was thinking some Presley if you guys-” More comments poured in and Buttercup beamed. 

That’s when Geralt heard his door shut behind him. Locked. Fuck. 

He dropped out of the live stream and texted Eskel who took a few minutes but finally shot back that he was stuck at work and on the other side of the county. Geralt was going to have to find something to do until he could run over with the spare. 

Fuck. 

He couldn’t well stand in the hall barefooted. He looked down at his phone and sighed. There was only one thing to do. 

----

“Like a river flows, surely to the see, Darlin-” Jaskier gave his camera a wink, chuckling through the lines but below the door opened. 

“Uh, excuse me, Mr. Bard?” a voice came up, low and uncertain. 

Jaskier gasped, looking in the camera as the chat exploded. He put a hand over his mouth and winced.  

“Hello?” Jaskier dropped his head into his hand biting the inside of his lip. When he heard footsteps on the stairs he looked back at his phone and mouthed ‘Got to go’ and blew a kiss. Hopefully it didn’t lose him followers. 

Suddenly the follower count didn’t matter. When Jaskier looked up he was greeted by a wall of a man, his white hair pulled back and the most startling hazel eyes. His bare feet wriggled on the linoleum. 

“I hate to be a bother, and I know you were in the middle of something,” the man suddenly looked like he wanted to bolt. 

“You’re the one who was listening down a few flights,” Jaskier couldn’t help the grin that was breaking out on his face. His followers were going to flip. 

“Ah shit, sorry about that I feel like… I should go.” The man turned away from Jaskier and started to make his way back down the steps. 

“Wait. Wait, no. Don’t go. Stay, please. Why aren’t you wearing shoes?” His damn mouth got ahead of him. 

“I’m locked out of my apartment,” he stood there, looking up through the rail, frowning. 

“I… Jaskier.”

“What?” 

“My name. It’s Jaskier. Mr. Bard was my father,” he smirked, taking a step down. “Would you like to wait at my place until someone comes to your rescue? I have carpeting and coffee?” 

The other man laughed, leaning to press his forehead against the rail for a second before looking up. “It would be appreciated. I’m Geralt from 2C.” 

Jaskier tilted his head and smiled. “Well while we wait, Geralt of 2C, you can finally give me a review of my singing.”

“Hmm,” Geralt let himself be led up the rest of the stairs, “Am I restricted to three words or less?” 

Jaskier flushed and snorted. And to think he nearly made a habit of doing his videos in this bathroom.

---

You can drop me a prompt from this list here!!

Tag list as it stands now <3: @jaskierswolf @geraskier-trashh @elliestormfound @artistsfuneral @thetinymm @fontegagrilledcheese @anythinggoesfandoms @electricrituals 

#geraskier #modern au #prompt fill #singer jaskier #tik tok jaskier #neighbors au #fluff #geralt of rivia #jaskier #idk you guys #it's 3am

[wolfish-trickster]

Liar

final part (I like number 7, let's end it at number 7)

Loki x female!reader

Word count: 2,9K

Warnings: angst, typos (not when drunk gods are talking, those are intentional), drunk god bros™, hangover

Tag list:@gaitwae @lucywrites02 @hard-to-be-the-bard @birdgirl90 @laramoonworld @belovedadam @mascaracoffee @serebrum @myworldgoesboomz @lokis-leah @nickkie1129 @getyoutmoon @forevernthensome

A/N: thank you so much for reading this unexpected mini series❤️

Loki swayed from one side to another. His question still hanging in the air. Thor was struggling to get back up on his feet. When it looked like he's making progress, he fell down on his knees again and had to start over.

"Has any of you ever seen them like that?" Steve whispered.

Everyone shook their heads. Your eyes remained glued to Loki. He never drank. Well, if he had to he drank fine wine or some other 'fancy' alcohol from Tony's stash, but he never drank to the point of being drunk. Only slightly tipsy.

You remember the first time you saw him drink. It was a long time ago. Tony made him. He said it will make him 'turn that frown upside down'. You saw him drain the whole bottle that day and it did nothing to him. Only tainted his pale cheeks with slight pink. You've seen him drink more than a bottle since then, but it was never enough to make him stumble through his words, or sway around like Jack Sparrow. How much did he had?

Anxiety gnawed on you again. 'He drank because of you. Because of what you told him. Your words pushed a literal god to drink his sadness away.'

"Weeeell?" Loki asked again. When Thor fell down with a thud on the floor again Loki rolled his eyes and was at least pretending to help him stand up. You swear you heard him whisper something along the lines of 'get up you outgrown lightning mouse, don't embarass me in front of her', but that could've been just your imagination.

"For god's sake, how much did you guys have?" Sam asked and Bucky stole Rex from his lap while he was distracted.

Thor while leaning on the back of the couch was counting his fingers. After a while he gave up. "A lot. We made our anescesterors proud," he bared his teeth in a proud grin.

"You mean ancestors, right?"

Thor's head turned to Nat. "Yes! We had a whoooole barrel. One for me," he hugged his brooding brother around shoulders (more like leaned on him with his entire weight) "and one for Kiki," the childish nickname earned Thor a massive shove to the side. "Do not call me dat!"

Bruce facepalmed. "Guys, what are we gonna do with them?"

Clint pulled out his phone, recording everything. "Enjoy while it lasts."

You smacked his phone away, a sudden need to protect your (hopefully still) friend's dignity roused inside of you. "You can't!" you said louder than you wanted.

Clint just shook his head. "You're no fun Y/N," and put his phone away.

You frowned at them. "I know. I know I'm no fun, and I am annoying sometimes, and weak and dumb compared to all of you. I know all of that! I don't care!"

Bucky stared up at you. "What has gotten into you doll?"

"I'll tell you what. I was a bitch, okay? I was overthinking everything ever since I had that argument with Loki. His words started something inside of my head. I started to think they were true, that when my best friend thought those things what must all of you think. And even when I knew they were lies those thoughts stayed up here," you pointed at your head, "and I hate myself for still keeping them there. And just when I thought I'll finally make up with Loki and everything will be good again I fuck up!" you wiped an escaped tear, took a breath and continued.

"It's my fault he's like this. He was drinking because of what I said. All of this is because of me," you hugged your arms to comfort yourself a little. Everyone stared at you, including the drunk brothers.

What you were letting out of your mouth probably didn't make sense as a whole. They were just your anxious thoughts getting free, they didn't care in which order. All of that stress, everything that has been rotting inside of your chest is out now. You feel a little better.

"Daaaarlin', 's not your fault," Loki interrupted your train of thoughts, reminding you that just because you talked your heart out, it didn't fix your mistake of hurting him.

"Yeah, and whose then?" you said calmly.

Loki stood up straighter while still swaying a little. "The univers! She won't let us be toge'er, thas why I haf to make up with 'er," his british accent got deeper.

You slowly walked towards him. "No Loki, this is my fault. And I'll fix it too," you took him by his arm and slowly lead him away. To his bedroom. However, he protested.

"Wait! We have to give 'er flowerz," he leaned down to Thor and yanked some of the flowers along with his golden hair from Thor's head. "Y'kno, to makup."

You shook your head and walked with him a little faster. "You don't have to. All you have to do is go to sleep now."

When the Avengers finally came to their senses Bruce shouted after you. "Hey what about Thor?"

"He's all yours," you shouted back from the elevators and pressed button leading to Loki's floor.

*

'He's heavier than he looks,' you think as you get closer to his bedroom door.

He's been leaning on you for support the whole silent (mildly uncomfortably silent) way to his bedroom. He groaned and mumbled something undecipherable here and there. You wished to be already in his room, put him in his bed and dissappear for few hours. You felt so awkward helping your friend who can barely stand after he drank because of you.

"Can you lean on the wall please?" you asked him when you both stood infront of his locked door. He unhooked his arm from around your shoulders and practically threw himself onto the nearest wall.

"Lean, not fall!"

He chuckled. "Sorrey, is the gravity," he mumbled.

You rolled your eyes and fished out a key from his bedroom door from your sweatpant pocket. When the thin metal slid into keayhole Loki threw his arms around you and gently squeezed you. "Are ya real?"

"Eeeh, yes? Why are you asking?"

"Because," he squished your cheeks together, "you're nice to me. And you're cute," he giggled.

You chuckled and removed his hands from your cheeks. "Thanks, but this isn't you. You need to sleep."

"Not me?" he asked, confusion all over his face. He ran his hand across his torso and settled on his face. "But this is my body and my face! It has to be me!"

"Yes, it is, but the acting isn't. Now come," you took his hand and gently lead him through his open door.

You pushed him to sit on his bed and wanted to walk out, but he won't let go of your hands. He studied them like a little child, turning them, looking at them from every angle. You blushed. He hasn't been this tender for a long time.

You cleared your throat. "You need to sleep. You're gonna have a massive hangover tomorrow."

His eyes left your hands resting in his and bore into yours. But they weren't as clear as usual, they were clouded and lost. "Why?"

"Eeeh, because you're drunk?"

"Why?"

"Because you drank?"

"Why?"

"Because-" no, you can't tell him. "It doesn't matter. Just sleep now," you tried to push him to his bed, but even in this state he was strong and unmovable.

"I don't wanna sleep. I need to find Univers!"

"Well, you can find your universe after you sober up."

"Noooo," he shook his head dramatically, his hair whiping around him. "I can't find my universe. YOU are MY universe," he held your hands close to his chest.

"But I need to find THE Universe! With the T'n'H'n'E infront of it," he started to ramble about Universe conspiring against him and you, but you didn't listen.

You stopped listening after he said 'you are my universe'. Did he mean it?

" 'Your' universe?" you asked and finally pushed him to lie down on his bed.

"Yea," he yawned, his eyelids became too heavy for him to keep open. "I know you hate me, but I.... I...," and he was gone. Off to the dreamland.

You stayed there for few more minutes in case he woke up and finished what he wanted to say, but no such thing happened. You could play on drumms next to him and he wouldn't move.

You softly brushed his hair from his face and covered him with his soft black blanket. "I don't hate you Loki. I never did. I just hope you'll be just as nice and calm when you sober up as you were right now," you caressed his cheek for the last time and walked to his door.

Before you closed, you looked back at him and softly whispered. "You are my universe too Loki."

*

Loki's head pulsed with pain. That's what woke him up, actually. Blindly, he felt around him with his hands, trying to find out where he was. Warm blanket, soft bed, his Asgardian armour still on. It was dirty from clay and smelled weird. Almost like.... alcohol?

'Oh,' he thought, 'that happened.'

He groaned and opened his eyes, only to instantly cover them with his palm. Light from the nearby window was stabbing his eyeballs causing him even bigger headache. All he wanted to do was get a big- no, giant cup of cold water and down it just as fast as he was doing with the alcohol yesterday.

But whenever he tried to use his magic only green and gold sparkles flew from his fingers and when he tried to stand up he got dizy and the whole room started to spin. He fell down onto his bed again. He felt as if his brother hit him with Mjolnir, his famous hammer.

If he wanted a cup of water, he will have to suffer through those few steps to his bathroom.

He reluctantly and slowly stood up and walking very close to wall he made his way for a drink. Or three, just in case.

After a long and unpleasant journey he fell onto his bed again, but not before he pulled blinds over the horribly bright window and rid himself of any dirty and uncomfortable clothes, leaving him only in his underwear.

With his head underneath his blanket, to block out any more light, he tried to remember as much of his actions from yesterday as he could.

From your room he went to gym to punch his frustration out. That's where Thor found him, interrogated him and then dragged him to Asgard to have a drink. Or a whole pub apparently. The rest is a blur. Something about garden, flowers and him and his brother crashing down to Midgard to look for someone. Who? He doesn't remember. Maybe you, since he remembered something about flowers. Maybe his drunk self thought it would be best to make up with you.

But that didn't make any sense, he had nothing to apologize for anymore. You were the one who told him those word. Where even were you anyways?

Just as he finished that thought he heard his doorknob move and his door creaked open.he slowly peaked out from underneath the blanket and in the dimness saw a familiar silhouette. You.

Carefully you put one foot infront of the other and walked straight towards him. You must think he's still asleep, that's why you're so careful. Oh, how he longed to pretend to be asleep and then jump at you and scare you. But he can't. He can't let his mischievious nature do that yet. Not when things between you two aren't like they used to be.

Instead he kept his eyes open and when you got close enough, he slightly moved. "Well look who showed up," he said.

You flinched a little. "Thank god you're finally awake. How are you feeling?"

"Horrible, to be honest," he rubbed his temples. "Why did you say 'finally awake'?"

You completely ignored his question. "Do you need anything? Water? Painkillers?"

"How about you give me an answer?"

You sighed. "You were out for two days Loki. I was starting to think you had alcohol poisoning and died in your sleep. I was checking up on you every few hours to make sure you're still with us," you confessed.

"Oh, alright. Thank you. And I don't need anything. I already obtained it," he pointed at his bedside table with three glasses of water.

"Still, your head must be torturing you. I'll bring you some painkillers," you ran outside before he could stop you.

You returned after few minutes with a small box of pills on one hand and a jar of water in the other. "So you don't have to stand up and go to the bathroom after you drink those three cups," you said and put the jar on his bedside table.

"Thank you. You are oddly kind to me," Loki pointed out.

You hummed and awkwardly stood infront of his bed, trying not to look at his naked torso. You fidgeted with the box for a while. "Just take one when you want," you said finally and put it next to the jar.

"Hey, can you tell me what happened yester- I mean two days ago? Was I and Thor a big disaster?" he asked, wanting you to stay with him.

"Well," you chuckled and scratched the back of your head. "It was a bit awkward and confusing. You and Thor appeared on the balcony and you were looking for universe for some reason."

Loki facepalmed. The pain from embarrassment was bigger than the pain his head was causing. "And let me guess, The Earth's Mightiest Heroes recorded everything, didn't they?"

You shook your head. "No, I didn't let them."

"Thank you," he smiled kindly.

You returned the smile. "Hey, can I sit here?" you pointed at the corner of his bed.

"Sure," he moved a little to give you more space. The bed dipped under your weight a little.

"I want to tell you few things," you said, your eyes watched how you fidgeted with your fingers.

"I'm listening."

"First I want to apologize for what I said. I was tetchy and I know it doesn't excuse what I said," you raised your eyes to his. "I just want you to know I didn't mean them. And I'm sorry. I would like to be your friend again. Please."

Loki bit his tongue from teasingly telling you 'no' and took a deep breath. "I would like to be your friend as well. I don't want us to argue anymore. So," he extended his arm towards you, "friends?"

You beamed at him. To him your smile shone brighter than the sun outside. You took his hand and shook it. "Friends."

"I'm glad," he squeezed your hand gently. He didn't want to let go yet. "And what about the rest of what you wanted to tell me?"

"Oh, right," you looked to the side. "You said something yesterday."

"Something offensive? If so, I apologize-"

"No! Not at all! It just..." you bit your lower lip and tilted your head, something you subconsciously did when you blushed. "Y-you said that... I am your universe," you said carefully.

Loki froze. Did he really say that? You didn't look like you were lying. Why did he tell you that? Why were you bringing that up? Did you possibly feel the same and want to be sure he wasn't kidding when he said it?

Loki must've took too long to respond, because you were trying to pull your hand from his and leave. This time Loki was fast to stop you. "I really said that?"

You gulped. "Yes, ehm did you mean it? Wait, you don't remember. Sorry," you chuckled awkwardly.

"If I said that while drunk, I meant it."

"Really?"

"Yes. I once heard 'alcohol reveals, who a person truly is', in that case I am a romantic," he winked and you giggled. He liked the fact you still giggle at his stupid jokes.

"For real now. You are my universe. My best friend. My partner in crime. And if you allow then I would like to add another title: my paramour. If you feel the same way, that is."

You smiled softly and intertwined your fingers with his. "You are my universe as well, Loki."

"Great," he lifted your joined hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to the back of your hand. "When I sober up and feel better I'm officially asking you out on a date."

"How long does it usually take for you to sober up?"

"A day or two," Loki shrugged and fell back onto his bed. His head started spinning again.

"That's too long," you said and layed next to him. "Can I watch over you while you sleep?"

"Sure thing love," he hugged you to him and kissed the crown of your head.

Bonus

"Darling, it's 2pm."

"Yes, so?"

"Aren't you supposed to take Rex out?"

"Bucky is training him."

"Oh, okay."

"You're so sweet to think of him."

"Hmmm."

*meanwhile*

Steve: hey, aren't you supposed to train him?

Bucky: *lying on the floor, Rex napping on his chest*

Bucky: uuuh, I gave him a break.

Steve: *raises one eyebrow*

Bucky: please don't tell her

Steve: only if I can join in

A/N: I was this close to write the angstiest ending, but I have a good mood today

#loki #loki odinson #loki x reader #the avengers #loki fluff #loki angst #loki x reader angst #drinking #drunk loki #drunk thor #hangover

[dykefoosh]

It's been a year! Transcript: 8/3/21 Here is also a google doc of the transcript if that is easier to read!

*Starts out with happy birthday on a guitar playing*

Happy Birthday to me, Happy Birthday to me. Happy Birthdayyyy to meee, Happy Birthday to me

*Drinks a swig of alcohol*

Ah. Yeah it’s my birthday today, which um seems odd, it doesn't feel like i've been here that long… but I have. Cheers everyone uh. I realise I haven't really done much in a while.

I woke up this morning, rolled out of bed, put out this cake I made three months ago and uh, that's kind of been it, but yeah… I don’t think I’ve left this room in 80 days. About 80 days… How long is 80 days? I- I- that's a lot of months… that's been a long time… Also my vision just went black, I’ve been drinking a lot, um this is that possibly catching up with me um please return vision, I’d really like for it to be back, well I can hear things so at least i'm not deaf ya know? The lord has kept my hearing but I am blind, no um yep there we go.

I decided to get dressed up as well. I figured that would be nice, ya know? I’m pretty sure I was part of them back when I joined, so.. .I don't know if it felt like it made sense to dress up again. Um, fucking hell, I have not cleaned. *sighs* I’ll be honest, in the time I was gone, not very… not very much has happened, uh, it turns out you need customers to support a hotel, and I don’t know about you guys but I haven't seen one on this place for a pretty long while. So uh, basically what I’m saying is… the big jack manifold hasn't been going too hot, god, you don’t provide these guys with food for eighty days and they all go bones and evil.

LEAVE out you bard, you-

The point is, very little has been done here for quite awhile, and um I haven't been outside or seen anyone, and I- I didn't’ finish the pub. Um, you may be asking me, “but jack wasn't that the only thing you were working towards? I know but with the failure of the hotel, I kind of realised that again pubs also rely on customers and the very limited people on this server, as we can all see it really ah um, well it didn’t seem very fruitful. So um, we're kinda just here, living here rent free ever since we claimed this place… I actually don’t know who pays the rent.. Maybe Tommy still does um. I Don't know- anyway since I’ve been here for a year and I haven't really looked around in three months, I thought we would go and look around at everything that we once saw, you know?

I must admit the investment of the alcohol from the pub has been the only thing keeping-.. I shouldn't say that, let's not speak about that part. Yeah it turns out that this place, look I haven't been outside in eighty days and I think maybe since I’ve been here for a year I can go back and have a look around at everything. And um as I said I dressed up for the occasion, so um you know… lets see what's changed hmmm?

Anyway let's walk around shall we? Well this didn’t change, we still got mcpuffys here. Hehe, no one noticed my balls sign hehe, no one noticed, I forgot about this, no one noticed I replaced whatever the original one was with balls in hope they wouldn't notice and they didn't. Ahh that's good, I like that. Anyway, there's the duck and Ponk’s tower that seem pretty much the same.

This looks different, this was a hole.. Who are you? Alright? You know we are the only two people on the server right now? (talking to shroud) This basically means we gotta become friends. So.. tell me about yourself.. Sir? Madam? Shroud, alright. Oh Ohhh I stole some of these! Did I ever give them back? Whoops, oh well. Ahh, it's been quiet without him ya know tommy. I’ll be honest, theres been very little to do, with him gone, um, the fuck did ninjas house go? Why does it look like a very small mcdonalds?

Right, this tower, this seems pretty much the same. Does the sewer still exist? Hm oh wait does it not? What ohh no what happened to the sewers? Aw, there was a whole sewer system out there one time and oh wow. Why is there no longer a sewer there? Wait oH OH it is down here!

One of the first things I remember is me tommy and tubbo and quackity, before he even joined and was still in juvy we, hehe, we did a little heist on everyone and we stole the poo machines and stole everything and then we had a little room, and it was here and we stole the phantom membranes. It was a good time, it was a good time, I liked that and then ah there had only been one war. It's crazy to think there's been more, I thought we’d figure it out the first time, you know? It was fun. And we were called the beatles. Either way yeah.

Why the fuck is half of this place beatroots? Why are half of these beetroots and the other half potatoes? Why is it all farm?? Why? Why is it beats? Wait where did gay target go? Why is there just a beacon here? At least there's huts pizza. Employee of the first two days, of dunderbeatlin… the fuck is dunderbeatlin? What's this? Why are there new things? I know it's been eighty days but why?

This is the L’manburg museum, bearing in mind I'm dressed like this I should go see it.

Oh! It's like different things. This is like the community house, okay that's cool and that's the egg.. This is a replica it won't hurt you… oh it doesn't it won't actually hurt you. I guess they remade that shit. What even happened with that thing? I remember it tried to possess me once and then I bathed in the holy water and I was good again. Oh wow it's like a map of the whole server and there's egg gunk. And then and then and then here.. Where am I? Oh… is that lmanburg? Where is lmanburg? Oh wait oh yeah yeah wait I forgot…. Oh…. yeah….. Um….heh yeah….

OH its the lmanburg walls! I remember tearing them down and rebuilding them a lot and the hotdog van! Does it have the declaration in it? No it doesn't… It is blue. Ohhh…… I joined the day after this (the final control room) God, it's been a whole year since then… What's this? Wait… I feel like there's missing lines here. I don’t know if sorry, you know? Oh, look here, oh it just says i'm sorry. (erets apology book) I’m not all that sure that sorry quite cuts that. What's this? Oh this looks unfinished. Oh here's a map of old lmanburg! OH that's ze house! Before… I burnt it down and decided I wasn't gonna have manifold land anymore.. I miss that, I miss lmanburg.

It was a lot easier to dream when we were friends. Everyone feels so distant now but maybe that's because I haven't seen them, maybe that didn't help I mean no one came to say hi to me. Oh, oh, my main takeaway was that, wait it's not glass anymore, it's like a cavern, it was glass the last time I was there, it's changed since I was here to remember what happened… Why does it look like this? Hmm I don't know. Ah this was my cove, and it was untouched until I burnt it down fuck you.

Oh and theres my secret base that I never finished, FUCK YOU - fuck I hate him, anyway… oh there's the big obsidian bridge, oh isn't this where tommy was exiled? Over this way? I think… That means it was somewhere along here that… wait no it was right here… right? We turned on these stairs, stepped down, and pretty sure it was right here… he dug this.. I don’t think I want to visit this place. I want to go back, this isn't really where I want to be.

Anyway um, I wonder if Snowchester has changed. Lets go visit, okay um, that's weird that's freshly planted. Let's head over to Snowchester its that way. Since when was Tubbos' house back? Didn’t Tommy burnt it down? I swear this got burnt down.. I remember the ruins of it, there was a nether tree farm then in it… anyway…. Let's go check out fundys place. I haven't seen him in FOREVER. The last time I saw him was the last war… the day… the last war… WHY ARE THERE BIG MUSEUM THINGS EVERYWHERE??

Where's fundys house? I built it. I remember building it as a prank and then he liked it and lived in it.. Where's my tower? It was here next to the fox, his little fox hole… my towers were gone, it was definitely here, it was a million percent here and it was right next to it. It was somewhere there was a button it had a button. There was a big sign made out of obsidian…

I don’t know if you can tell, but I’ve been pretty purposeless for the past eight days… what the fuck? That's a HOLE. That's a big ass hole! That wasn't always there?! When did a hole show up?? There's a HOLE in my hotel!! I'm trying not to lose my cool and you know when I go the day that I joined, and the first person that greeted me was tommyinnit and still, I wish, I just wish someone logged in and said “hey jack happy one year” and I try to build them a pub and one of these *drinks a swig of alcohol* I mean at least..

Every time….. Everything here and how come it's all the things I care about that get blown up? Lmanburg… Manifold Land- Well I did manifold land but I was pissed off - Everything I care about on this server gets blown up, or destroyed or taken advantage of or.. Betrays me, that happens a lot. I’m not sure if I wanna be here anymore.

I’m not sure if I want to have anything to do with this… maybe that's it. Maybe that's it. What does this place bring? What does this place bring? Ever since I have been part of the “Dream SMP” Things are given to me that are eventually taken or destroyed, friends leave, DEATH, not everyone has died on the server and come back to life admittedly, I have now but the point is, I AM VERY DEFINITE I DON'T WANT ANYTHING TO DO WITH THIS SERVER ANYMORE… Alright? Almost everyone that has promised me something has turned their back. Almost everyone. The last thing anyone said to me was “Ah when las nevadas comes about, we will have a deal jack.. I’ll make it big” Yeahh.. .he really brought a lot of business. How's Las Nevadas doing?? Because when I HEARD it would be done and bring me customers, surely not another person would give me false hope.

Tubbos was the only one I can trust, Tubbo and Niki. I know Niki has become an anarchist or whatever but at least she's happy, and Tubbo was always kind.

I think Las Nevadas is somewhere over here. Let's go look at how “done it is” and how ready for business they are… Looking PRETTY finished for me. Big sign, big building, nice roads. Looking pretty… done. Pretty ready for a business deal. Isn't that a shocker… Isn't it weird yet again that someone promised me something and it fell through again?

So FUCK IT I don’t wana see Snowchester, I dont want to see anything, My WHOLE TIME on this server has been doing things for other people and fighting peoples wars, right? Keeping up hotels and pubs for people to stay, trying to kill people at worst that wasnt me and fighting for them. I haven't done anything for myself. ANYTHING AT ALL. And I said the hotel was for me and look where it got me- in a room for 80 days and a giant bottle of cider I have yet to finish- so fuck it! I’m not dealing with anyone else anymore. The “DREAM SMP” I’m gonna go out and start my own thing. I’m gonna call it the “Dream SSP” survival single player because I’m not dealing with anyone else anymore. Alright?

The day Tommy died, I said I was done with manifold land because the only thing it ever stood for was trying to get rid of him, and although it was also about getting back at him, it was about other people, but this time, I have something new in mind, something completely different…

NEW Manifold land will not cater to anyone else, not fight for anyone else, to I don’t know be anything for anyone else really. New Manifold land will stick very strictly to the name and persist of purely Jack Manifold, and I might steal Godzilla back from Tubbo (his arctic fox). Because as much as I said Niki was kind and Tubbo was kind, where they been the past 80 days? No one came to the hotel. No one came looking for me to which point, I say I’m gonna find myself my own little place. I’m just gonna live. I’m gonna do what I want, the only thing is, I need to find an area of my own, we need to travel. So let's get moving hmm?

#dsmp transcript #transcript #jack manifold #c!jack #big manifold hotel #c!niki #c!tubbo #c!tommy #dsmp #lmanburg #manifold land

[noladyme]

The Frog Princess. Chapter 3

She had no wish to be bound down to anyone, but Y/N none the less found herself being dragged across the continent; to marry King Foltest of Temeria.  In stead of pomp and spectacle; she was accompanied by the witcher, Geralt of Rivia. Their travels would bring both monsters, lust, love; and heartache. All soundtracked by an endearing buffoon of a bard, named Jaskier.

TW: Violence, language, sexual themes. Rated M.

3

I woke to the smell of something sweet and tangy. My whole body was aching from having lain in such an uncomfortable position on the cold ground. I pulled myself up to sit, turning towards the embers of the fire. The witcher sat by it, stirring a small pot.

“Another one of your concoctions?”, I asked.

He looked up at me – his face once again a healthier shade; and his eyes amber. “Actually, it’s breakfast”, he answered, and handed me a small wooden bowl, filled with a bluish gruel. “Berry porridge”, he said. “It’s not the kind of cooking you’re used to; but it’s what we have”.

I tasted it tentatively. It was delicious. I ate my fill, and accepted seconds when the witcher offered it.

“Did she come from the grave back there?”, I asked, putting down the bowl finally. “Yes”, he answered shortly. “The grave was fresh, and the ground unconsecrated. She was killed in disgrace; probably by a lover”. “Poor girl”, I mumbled, and instantly felt ashamed of how I’d joked about him taking her head.

He stood up, and began kicking dirt into the embers. “She’s gone now”. “At peace?”, I asked. “I don’t know”, he admitted.

Jaskier came into the clearing then, buttoning his shirt. “There’s a lovely little stream down there. You should go and enjoy the water; take a bath, maybe”, he smiled at me. “She did last night”, the witcher smirked. I turned away – cheeks flush from a mix of rage and embarrassment.

---

We continued east through the forest. My knee was aching, but there wasn’t a chance in Hel he’d get me to complain.

Dragging his horse, we walked in silence; the witchers eyes tracing my face, before falling to the ground. “What?”, I asked. “Nothing”, he answered. “You’re staring at me”, I said.

He smiled. “I was just wondering”, he said. “Back at the feast; your cousin told you I was a witcher. Did you not know what that is?”. I chuckled. “I knew. I know”. “Hmm”, he grunted. “You did not react as I would have expected. Most people – most women – either draw back in revulsion or spread their legs in in lust”. I frowned at him. He chuckled gruffly. “So you are repulsed by me”, he said.

“It’s not the mutant part that I’m repulsed by”, I said. “It’s the shitty personality that goes with it”.

He grunted again. “Well I’ve lived many years. The world has changed, but my personality never did. So, you best get used to it”. I smirked. “I’ll do my best. But I’m not spreading my legs”, I said, trying for haughty; but I didn’t dare look at his reaction. “You’ll do your best, until the next time you try to run away”, he snorted.

I laughed out loud, and kicked a stone into the brushes. “So, did Eist send you with me to protect me, or to make sure I don’t escape?”. This time I did look at him. He smiled. “Well, I am a very good tracker”. “I could slit your throat while you sleep, and then run”, I said. “I don’t sleep much”, he answered. “I noticed”, I mumbled.

The trees became further apart, leading us towards fields of grain. The smell of fresh baked bread filled the air.

“So, you know about witchers, my lady?”, Jaskier called out from behind us. “Yes”, I replied. “My nan… Thrude told me about many strange things”.

A carriage passed us from behind; and I jumped to the side, almost stumbling into the ditch. The witcher grabbed my waist, not letting me fall. His hands were gentle. “How is your knee?”, he asked. “Pained”, I finally admitted.

He effortlessly lifted me into the air, setting me down on Roach’s back. Jaskier mumbled something disgruntledly. The witchers hands lingered around my waist for a second, making sure I wouldn’t fall of. “Thanks”, I said quietly. He grunted in response.

“Thrude”, Jaskier continued. “She’s your hand matron”. “Not anymore, I suppose”, I said sadly. “But she knows things. Things that she’s shared with you?”. “Are you writing another song, bard?”, I laughed. “Always!”, he said, winking at me.

I held on to the mare’s mane, getting comfortable in the saddle. “Thrude trained as a vöelve”. “A witch”, the witcher said. “No”, I challenged. “A vöelve is not a witch. She is a seeress, a wise woman; with knowledge of plants and healing”. “And killing”, the witcher once again interrupted.

I chuckled at him. “Do you oppose to Skellige’s traditions?”, I said. “No”, he answered. “I oppose to letting humans dabble in things they should not stick their noses into. Magic isn’t for them”.

We were quiet again.

---

In the afternoon we reached a small village, that seemed to have grown out of the fields. There was a blacksmith working at his anvil; and the witcher led us up to his small shop table. He lifted me of Roach, taking care to set me down gently. Our bodies were close enough for me to feel his chest against mine; and my breath hitched slightly. He stepped away quickly, as if burnt by a flame. His anger was dormant, but still there, it seemed. I sighed, and accepted Jaskiers hand to go sit on a bench by the blacksmiths small house.

“He’ll be over it soon”, the bard said, smiling at me. “I don’t care”, I answered. Jaskier looked at me, one eyebrow raised. “I can tell”.

The witcher went up to the blacksmith, a knife in his hands. It took me a second to recognize it as my own sgian-dubh. He must have taken it from my boot while fixing my wound. “Blacksmith, what can you do with this?”, the witcher asked the man; and handed him my knife. He turned it around in his hands. “Well, this is a rare one. Must have paid a pretty coin for it, master”, the man said, holding it into the air to let the sun fall on the engravings. “Some nice woodwork in the handle; and these patterns on the blade… Skellige?”. The Witcher grunted in response. “It’s not very useful now; blunt as it is”, the man continued. “I dare not heat it up; it might ruin the markings. But I can sharpen it for you; maybe oil the wood?”.

The witcher nodded. “My friends sister needs needle and a thread, for her torn dress; and a fresh bandage. We had a run in with a pack of wolves”. The blacksmith nodded with a friendly smile. “My wife will have both bandages and sewing gear. She’s in the house. I’ll work on your knife while you speak with her”.

The witcher came to stand by us; and Jaskier looked at him with beaming eyes. “You called me your friend”, he said. Another grunt. “Yes, and I also called her your sister”, he said and nodded at me; before knocking on the door of the house.

“Well; I take what I can get”, Jaskier smiled.

Having let the kind wife of the blacksmith sew a patch on my dress, and re-bandage my leg – she had resolutely refused to let me do it myself – we returned to her husband for my knife. The witcher paid the man; and we went to continue on our journey.

“Master witcher”, the blacksmith halted us. “The day is beginning to wane, and I’d hate to see you caught up by another pack of wolves. Rest here tonight. We haven’t much to offer in beds; but there’s a small barn out back; with clean straw to lay on”.

The witcher shook his head. “We wouldn’t want to impose on your hospitality. Just point us in the direction of an inn”. The man smiled – along with Jaskier. “Of course, sir. There will be one further in town. But do let us know if there is anything else, we can do for you”. The witcher answered with a smile himself; and led us on into town.

---

The inn was crowded; but we’d managed to find a table to sit by. Jaskier was sending eyes at one of the barmaids; soon leaving us for her company. We sat in silence for a long time, eating the serving of mutton in front of us. I picked at the meat on my plate.

“Dinner not suiting the lady?”, the witcher smirked at me. “I am sorry this establishment doesn’t live up to your high standards”.

I sighed, and looked at him pointedly. “I saw a wyvern rip a lambs head clean off once. I’ve never been able to stomach eating sheep since”. His eyes fled mine. “I see”, he said. “Did it set fire to the corpse afterwards?”. “Wyverns don’t breathe fire”, I answered venomously. “Anything else you want to test me on?”. He grunted.

“… For 'tis naught, but bad luck To fuck with a puck Lest your grandkid be born A hairy young faun Bleating and braying all day, hey ho..”

Jaskiers voice and lute led the patrons into a jaunty tune; goading them all to sing along. The young barmaid was hanging on to his every word – making it very clear to the whole room that his breeches would be lying on the floor next to her bed that night.

“The fishmonger's daughter, ba ba The fishmonger's daughter, ba ba…”.

I drained my mug of beer, and sighed. “Where is my room?”, I asked. “I suppose you’ll be watching the door all night; keeping me safe?”. “No”, the whitehaired man answered simply. I silently cheered at the prospect of having some privacy for the first time in a few days.

He took my arm, leading me through the crowd of patrons surrounding Jaskier. “I expect you’ll be making your own sleeping arrangements”, he said to the bard in a break between songs. The barmaid sat herself down on Jaskiers lap, and began whispering into his ear, making his face blush. “Well, I…”, he said; smiled, and shrugged at us. “Right”, the witcher said, and dragged me along towards the stairs to the second floor.

Once outside a crooked door, he opened it, and pushed me inside, following at my heels. I looked at him confused. “What are you…”, I managed, before he grabbed my arm again, forcing me to sit down on the bed.

“Dress on or off?”, he said, voice tired. He began to take of his boots, and set his things down; his sword leaning against the chair by the bed.

My breath hitched. Taking of his jerkin; his black shirt rode up, to reveal his toned physique. I caught a glimpse of the dark hair splayed his chest, before the hem fell back down, covering his torso again.

I jolted myself – forcing myself to focus. “Are you mad?”, I asked and stood up. He looked at me bored. “On? Or off?”. “I told you…”, I said. “Don’t flatter yourself, little frog”, he said. “I’m too tired for any more discussions; now make up your mind, and get under the sheets”.

My cheeks reddened. “On… I mean off”, I said, meeting his indifferent eyes.

I began to untie the laces of my dress, but stopped once I realized his gaze wasn’t diverting. I frowned at him, and he rolled his eyes. “Fine”, he said, and turned around for me to undress.

Once I had shed my clothes, leaving me in just my chemise; I quickly crawled under the sheets, covering myself. He sat down on the bed, next to me. “Hand”, he said. I furrowed my brow, and reached out my hand to him. Grabbing it, he pulled a thin rope from his pocket, tying it around my wrist; and fastening it to the bedpost beside me.

“What in Hel, do you think you’re doing?”, I growled at him. He pulled the knot one last time, checking to see that I wouldn’t be able to get free; but also, that I wouldn’t be in pain. “I intend to have a full night’s rest; without having to worry that you’ll try to run again”.

“You absolute bastard!”, I sneered. “Yes”, he answered, and laid down next to me on the bed; making the old mattress dip, and my body slide towards his. I clung to the side of the bed with my free hand, trying to avoid touching him in any way. He jostled a pillow to lie between us. “Now sleep”.

I kept moving, trying to get comfortable with my hand tied up above my head.

“Why didn’t you accept the blacksmiths offer?”, I asked. He sighed. “They had nothing to share with us”, he said; his eyes closed, and his arms crossed over his chest. “And you probably wouldn’t be comfortable sleeping next to goats”. “You expect me to sleep next to you”, I hissed. He let out a small chuckle, opening his eyes; and looking out of the corner of them at me. “At least you have a soft bed and a warm breakfast waiting for you in the morning, just like you’re used to”.

I found it difficult to control my rage. “Why do you act as if I don’t know hardship? I’ve spent winters hungry when I visited Faroe and the South Islands!”, I scoffed. “You had a choice to stay or go home. They do not. That, woman, is privilege”.

I jolted slightly from his use of the word woman. It was the first time he’d recognized that was what I was; and he seemed to realize this himself. He looked up into the ceiling; then closed his eyes, and turned his back to me.

“Now shut up. You’ve already kept me awake for two days and nights. Let me have a few hours of rest”, he rumbled. “Before I have to deal with your shit again”.

Once again, I had no answer, and I simply laid there – angry, sad; and well aware that he was right – about everything.

---

My sleep was restless. I woke several times to the sounds of grunts and moans from the rooms around us. I could swear one of the times I heard Jaskier giggling like a little boy; “Gertie… no… ooh! Well, when you put it like that…”.

The room smelled like cabbage, and it would have been dreadfully cold; had it not been for the witchers warm body resting so close to mine. He was breathing calmly; rhythmically. He turned over, facing me; eyes still closed, sleeping.

I watched him; holding my breath. Something was burning inside me; a feeling I knew perfectly well what was – but didn’t want to acknowledge.

His hand moved. It slid across the pillow between us; his fingertips lightly touching my arm for a second – sending a strange current through my body – before he gripped the grey slipcase, and scrunching it up in his hand. He furrowed his brow and exhaled deeply, seeming to have faced something very difficult in his dreams. I wanted to probe those dreams and see what he was seeing.

He suddenly cleared his throat; and I closed my eyes quickly, pretending to sleep.

“That’s a bad, bad bard…”, I heard from the next room over; followed by another giggle, what sounded like a cork popping, and then a yelp.

I kept my eyes closed, and tried to ignore the sounds. After a long time, sleep took me over.

---

A loud banging jostled us awake.

“Geralt!”, Jaskier yelled. “Geralt, she was married! We need to leave!”.

The witcher groaned in irritation, and got out of the bed; making me sink into the mattress. I struggled to sit up, keeping the covers over my body.

The witcher opened the door, and Jaskier leapt inside to safety, pressing his back against it to hold it closed. He looked at my confused face.

“I swear, I didn’t know”, he whispered; before – with an apologetic smirk – adding; “… in truth, we didn’t do much talking”.

“You’re an idiot, Jaskier”, the witcher grumbled. “It was bound to catch up to you at some point”.

“You’re not going to help me?”, the bard whined. “No”, was the answer.

The sound of footsteps thundered up the stairs. “I’ll get the whoreson!”, someone roared, and began hammering on the doors to the rooms around us.

“Geralt!”, Jaskier almost screeched at the witcher. He made a guttural sound. “Fine”, he said. “Keep out of sight”. He removed his shirt, leaving him in his breeches. I gulped slightly from the sight.

Jaskier crawled under the bed in a very undignified way. I could almost feel the mattress shaking from him shivering in fear underneath it.

Someone banged on our door. “Open up! Let me have that son of a dog!”.

The witcher opened the door calmly; staring down the bucktoothed man standing outside.

“Which is it?”, the witcher asked. “Is he a whoreson, or a dog’s son? Or is he both? Maybe the whore is a dog”. The man looked at him angrily. “This is none of your concern, witcher. I just want the bastard who I saw sneaking out of my Gerties door this morn’”.

Jaskier let out a small squeak from under the bed. The man didn’t seem to have heard him.

The witcher sighed. “You come here and jostle me out of bed, and the warm arms of this lady…”, he gestured at me, making me blush, “… to claim that I am hiding some poor sod who happened to cuckold you”. The man seemed to consider his words. The witcher continued. “My state of undress – and that of my female companion here – should make it quite clear to you, that I have other things to do; than be a living sanctuary for some bard, who happened to know how to sweettalk his way in to your wife’s bed”.

The mans face was turning red. “The cur arrived here same time as you – you must know where he is!”.

The witchers eyes became dark, and he bared his teeth. “You should worry more about where your wife is. It seems that if you’d done that in the first place, none of us would be in this situation”. He grabbed the man’s collar; making him shake in fear. “Now, fuck off!”.

“Right!”, the man whimpered. “I’ll go… speak to Gertie. Maybe I was mistaken”. The witcher groaned menacingly, and let go of the man – making him scuttle down the stairs faster than any mouse running from a cat.

The witcher closed the door, and turned around to face us.

The sunlight seeping through the small window lit up his naked torso. My breath hitched at the sight.

His chest was broad and firm, covered in the dark hair I’d seen a glimpse of the night before. The hair travelled down his muscular stomach; into his breeches. The sight of his toned physique made me understand how he could be so strong. It looked like he spent every day picking up boulders, and throwing them around. I supposed those boulders were more likely monsters; but either way, the exercise kept him at what seemed to be peak physical condition.

It was then I noticed the scars; so many of them, spread across his body. I’d known they would be there – witcher as he was – but the sight of them surprised me.

His amber eyes met mine. I didn’t mean to smile; but it happened. Suddenly he looked uneasy. He grabbed his shirt, and quickly put it on.

Jaskier crawled out from under the bed. “Well that was something!”, he declared smilingly. He sat himself down on the bed, and looked from the witcher to me; to the rope still tying me to the bed. His face went white. “Did I… interrupt something?”, he asked.

“No”, the witcher answered, and put on his boots. “If you insist on continuing on with us as far as Tigg, get your things and be ready to leave as soon as you can. I’m not going to help you if you get caught up by another jilted husband”.

Jaskier nodded, and hurried out the door.

The witcher walked up to me, and threw my knife on the bed. I used it to cut myself free. He turned around to let me get out of the bed and put on my dress. I remembered to slip the knife down my boot again.

We went downstairs. The table we’d occupied the night before was set with oatmeal porridge and some sausages. I sat down, and began eating – my stomach rumbling from hunger. The witcher smirked at me. “Better than mutton?”, he asked. I nodded with a half-smile.

“Who let in that bleeding cat again?”, the barman who’d served us said.

A grey, one-eyed tomcat prowled across the floor towards a fly resting there. With a jump it tried to catch its prey; only to have it fly away at the last minute. The cat looked up at me and hissed.

“Watch out for that one, miss. It’s feral. Hasn’t left a man or woman unscathed if they got too near”. I got up, and crouched down by the cat. It hissed at me again, before putting it’s paw up; as if reaching for me. I smiled at it, and blinked, slowly. The cat blinked back, put its paw back to the ground; and pressed its forehead to my outreached hand. I scratched its ear.

“You’re hungry, aren’t you?”, I said; and grabbed a piece of sausage from my plate; putting it on the floor in front of the cat. It instantly gobbled down the meat. “Hello, kitty. I’m Zaba”, I smiled; feeling the witchers eyes on my back. I sat down on my chair again, and the now purring bundle of fur stroked itself against my legs. I chuckled, and gave it a scratch under its chin. It was skinny; I could feel every bone in its body.

“Never seen it do that”, the barman said in wonder. “Did you ever try feeding it?”, I said. “Then it wouldn’t be hungry enough to go for the mice”, he answered. “It might be more keen to help you with that, if you didn’t treat it like so badly”, I mumbled.

The witcher looked at me with narrowed eyes.

The barman took a piece of dried meat from a hook hanging over the fire; and threw it at the cat. It jumped at the treat; almost swallowing it whole. I smiled.

The witcher made to leave; and I followed his lead. He walked up to the barman, and slipped some coins into his hand. “For your hospitality”, he said. “Take good care of the cat”, he added; a gruff warning in his voice. The barman swallowed hard, and nodded. My heart jumped a little, and I smiled again. “Thank you, master”, the barman said.

We walked out the door; and went to the small stable to get Roach.

“Thank you”, I half whispered to the witchers back. He grunted in response, looking over his shoulder at me; eyes warm.

Jaskier met us by the edge of the village; having somehow procured for himself an ass, that was now carrying his lute and satchel. “Took you long enough”, he complained. “Let’s leave this wretched place”.

Walking away from the village, I looked over my shoulder and saw my new feline friend looking at us from out the window of the inn. Someone scratched its ear, and it jumped out of sight.

---

Thanks for reading.

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list.

- no lady

Tag list:

@ayamenimthiriel​

#geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia x reader #the witcher #the witcher netflix #the witcher fic #jaskier

[pressedinthepages]

Redamancy

Latin. verb. the act of loving the one who loves you; a love returned in full.

Fandom: The Witcher

Pairing: Lambert x Reader

Word Count: 1623

Rating: T

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24937177

Masterlist

a/n: Reader Request: By chance can you do a Lambert oneshot of him trying to court the reader?

Tags: @whitewolfandthefox​ ​ @havenoffandoms​ @mishafaye ( Add yourself to my taglist here! )

Warnings: nothing outside of the ordinary swearing, this is fluff at it’s finest. also, this is my first time writing lambert, so let me know what you do/don’t like!

Lambert tries his best to woo you, relying on old traditions to hold your heart.

    You huffed, trying and failing to blow the stray strand of hair out of your eyes. You’d been bent over the counter for upwards of an hour, mixing and kneading wares for the next week. The sweet dough is soft under your fingers, stretching as you dig and pull at the mixture. The dough sticks to your hands and you know that flour dusts across your cheeks like a bizarre set of freckles. You hum lightly as you work, letting yourself be lulled into a peaceful mindlessness. 

    You look up for a moment, stretching the muscles in your shoulders and down your back. Your workbench is nestled along the back wall of your home, a small window just above overlooking the sprawling valley of flowers in the distance. While your little cottage is your slice of paradise, you can’t help thinking that it feels so empty, especially when he’s gone.

    You shake your head and return to your hunched position as you push and punch into the dough. Your mind has always had a penchant for wandering, but you’re determined to focus and get your breads finished before the night is over. Just as you’re about to slice the large batch into smaller portions for baking, you sense something in the room behind you.

    Before you can turn around, though, a large body leans against your back and a hand cups your arse. “Damn, that bread looks almost as delicious as you,” the man growls into your ear before nipping at your shoulder.

    You feel your heart rate settle as you turn to face the familiar voice. Lambert keeps his hands on you as you spin, glancing along your hips as a smug smile dances across his lips. 

    “Lambert,” you chide teasingly, “you know how I hate surprises.”

    His golden eyes glint in the late afternoon sun, mirthful and full of a joy that he keeps reserved just for you. Lambert had followed the scent of sweet baked goods one afternoon last summer, and ever since he had found you up to your elbows in batter, he hasn’t been able to stay away for long. 

    “Ah, I know, love, but when I saw you bent over that table, I just couldn’t help myself…” he leans and whispers into your ear, capturing some of the soft flesh of your neck lightly between his teeth. You sink into his embrace, careful to rest your elbows on his arms so as to not cover him in dough and flour. 

    “I’m glad you’re back, I miss you so when you leave,” you murmur into his neck as you plant gentle kisses along his skin. 

    “Mhm, there’s truly no place I’d rather be,” he kisses along your jaw before meeting your lips, something sweet and delicate barely suppressing the insatiable hunger in his embrace. 

    Regrettably, you pull back, apologetically meeting his confused gaze. “Let me wash this off, then we can continue.” You place a knuckle under his chin as you turn out of his grasp with a cheeky grin. 

    You step outside, Lambert following behind as you stride towards the well in your yard. Before you can reach for the handle, the Witcher hoists the pail from the depths below. You can’t help but watch appreciatively as his muscles swell under his shirt, flexing and shifting with immeasurable strength. 

    As he bends to place the bucket on the ground you rush behind him, planting your hand on his arse and squeezing, Lambert startling back upright at the sensation.

    “Just returning the favor, dear,” you smirk, pulling your hand back to see a perfect outline of flour in its place on the dark fabric. Lambert chuckles darkly, trying to decide if it was dark enough out to just take you right here in the yard without your neighbors seeing. 

    Deciding otherwise, he moves to your side as you dip your hands into the pail. The cool water is refreshing in the warm afternoon, invigorating waves of energy soaring through your skin. You hurriedly wash away the evidence of your craft, water splashing out of the bucket as you scrub.

    Satisfied, you stand once more and take Lambert’s hand, threading your fingers through his. Both of you have hands calloused from years of work and hardship, but for very different reasons. Under your fingers, you can feel his heart thrumming under the skin. A witcher’s heartbeat is always slow, true, but whenever you touch Lambert, hold him close with tender gestures and low words only for him, you can feel it beat just the slightest amount quicker. 

    You pull him back inside, letting him go once you get past the door so that you may cover the dough. Ah, you think to yourself, so much for getting it all finished tonight. 

    When you turn back around, Lambert is...kneeling?

    “Darling, what the fuck are you doing?” You giggle, reaching out to pull him to stand. He shakes his head, staying where he is on the floor.

    “First of all, watch your fucking language.” You laugh heartily, and Lambert does as well. You relish these moments, when the great supposedly impenetrable walls that encase his heart crack and crumble. His laugh is...unique, more of an aggressive bark than what would normally be considered a sound of joy. You know better though, the sound warming your soul as Lambert clears his throat and composes himself, looking up at you with his striking eyes the color of the richest sunset.

    “Ahem,” he starts, and you raise your eyebrows as you hold back a smirk. “I want to be honest with you; I truly have no idea what the hell I am doing.” 

    Your chest shakes with your laughter, but you hold it in, pursing your lips as you huff through your nose.

    “Now, I had the bard help me with this bit, ‘cause I want to get it right and he’s poncy enough to know the proper method of this.” He reaches into his jerkin, pulling a neatly folded slip of parchment into his hand. He holds it aloft in front of him, his free hand flying out in a grand sweeping motion.

    “‘Dearest beloved, I yearn to dedicate an entire volume of poetry to the enrapturing visage of your beauty, but alas I am no poet. So I shall sing your praises in the form of this letter, of which I will read aloud for the world to hear.’”

    You can’t help but smile a bit at his antics, not sure if Jaskier actually gave him proper advice or was just fucking with him. Either way, you felt tears begin to prick at the corners of your eyes at the sweetness of the gesture.

    “‘The moment I first stumbled into your life, the sky had only just opened enough for the great glory of the sun to shine onto the petals of flowers left dewy from the dawn fog.’” Lambert’s eyes never left the page as he read, and a slight blush crept up his neck as he continued along. He never was one for grand declarations, but you’re sure that you’ll remember this moment for the rest of your life.

    “‘...and that is why, dearest of hearts, I desperately plead for you to take my heart as yours, carry it with you wherever you may go, and grant me the honor of holding your heart as mine.’”

    At the final word, Lambert returns his gaze back to you, nervous and vulnerable in a way that you’ve never seen in him. You close the distance between the two of you and sink to your knees, meeting him at eye level. 

    Wordlessly, you snake your hand to the back of his head and pull him to you, placing a gentle kiss to his lips. His hands wrap around your waist as he pulls you flush against him, swiftly deepening the kiss as he licks into your mouth. He steals your breath with every movement, his hands desperately grasping onto any part of you they can. You moan into his mouth and move your hands down his chest, moving to undo the laces keeping his jerkin closed.

    As you begin to untie them, Lambert pulls back with another sharp bark of laughter. “I suppose I can take that as a yes?” 

    You undo the knot and slide the armor from his shoulders, letting it pool on the ground as his hands move to the delicate buttons on your shirt. 

    “Oh, my love, you truly didn’t have to do all of that, my heart has been yours since I caught you smiling at me from across the market, before you really let me see you smile,” you murmur against his neck pulling at any bit of fabric you can reach to try and remove it from his body.

    “Mm, well, you deserve so much more than I can offer, so I figured that I should at least try to court you properly.” Lambert’s voice is low, shame tinging the edges of his words. 

    You move to face him, taking his face in your hands and gently stroking the long scar that runs down his cheek. “You listen here, I don’t give a shit what I do or don’t deserve, what matters is what I want, and what I want is you, only you, my Lambert.”

    You move forward to kiss him sweetly once more, pulling him to stand with you. Suddenly, you feel him bend, and the next thing you know you’re in the air, Lambert carrying you in his arms to your bed. You laugh into his lips, resolving to never let go of the sealed up, hardened heart that has begun to melt and turn soft that you have been given.

#lambert x reader #fluff #courting fic #reader request #mishafaye #soft!lambert #he deserves it #prickly bastard #ahhhhh #so fluffy #i was kinda nervous for this one #cause i havent written lambert before #but im pretty happy with how it came out

[min-meowmeow]

The Fairy Shirt

History Teacher Taehyung x English Teacher Reader

Fluff/Angst if you squint

Word Count:  9,514

Synopsis: Taehyung has been a massive flirt for as long as you've known him, but what happens when he finally drops the facade?

or

Reader is mad thirsty for Kim Taehyung and will deny it for the rest of their life.

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

"I don't understand," Taehyung muttered through a disgruntled swipe of his hand through the blue cardigan adorning his chest, "how students get glitter on everything!" He switched hands, left taking over for right while right fumbled under the sticky grip of the sparkly decoration. "We haven't even used glitter!" 

You scraped the contents of your T.V. dinner —now turned lunch— into your awaiting mouth that then pressed into an unsatisfied frown. "They're fifth graders. Their blood is made of glitter." 

"Well can they keep it to themselves." He rubbed exasperatedly against his sweater and yet, somehow, only more glitter stuck. The contained screech was just barely silenced by the grit of his perfectly white teeth. 

The only other teacher in the lounge, Mrs. Lee, peered over the district's newly issued community magazine with a sour pout directed at the irritated 5th grade History teacher, but if Taehyung knew, he didn't particularly care. Her eyes followed him until his sullen figure fell into the 80s deco couch positioned just behind the small break room table you had taken residence in when the glorious lunchtime bell had rung not fifteen minutes ago. She only dropped her gaze when he dropped his head along the back of the couch, face disgruntled and glasses askew. 

"This is the third sweater this week," he grumbled. 

You peered over your shoulder to find the despondent man pathetically pouting with eyes delicately closed against the filtering of the sun through the turn of the century blinds covering the windows. A shimmer fluttered along the blue of his sweater with every breath that passed through his ridiculously sturdy chest while the scent of barely contained crayon wafted from the dredges of his clothing masking his usual scent of pine and coffee. “Did you, by chance, have Katie color anything today with her glitter crayons?” 

One sullen eye popped open. 

“Goddamnit, Katie,” he cursed. 

Mrs. Lee’s head popped up again from her magazine, glare placed just above the rim of her glasses absolutely piercing into Taehyung who continued to ignore her. You, however, did catch her stare and decided to intervene before she tore through his precious blue sweater. Nonchalantly, you rose from your chair and dumped your leftover tray into the nearby trash bin before returning to extend a hand towards Taehyung. 

“Come on, I have a lint roller in my room,” you offered in place of an explanation for your outstretched hand. 

He eyed it then eyed you suspiciously, but not really. Taehyung had been glued to your side as diligently as unwanted glitter since the day you both started at the elementary school, so you knew any cantankerous reactions from him were simply for show. The gentle way his fingers delicately, almost fragile, wrapped around the expanse of your wrist proved this to be fact. It also accelerated your heart stupidly fast as if you were one of those love-struck kids you often shook your head at when they passed notes between them in class, but that was neither here nor there. 

You pulled him to a stand and begrudgingly released your hold from around his skin before Mrs. Lee caught you lingering. Tae said nothing, rather simply proceeded to follow you out of the lounge where Mrs. Lee sighed loudly. Tae’s chuckle quickly drowned her out. 

“She hates me,” he grinned beside you. 

“She hates anyone who wasn’t alive when the dinosaurs roamed,” you quipped in return. 

A loud chortle was this time forced from the confines of Taehyung’s chest that startled you only enough to jump slightly. Thankfully, no one else occupied the hallways that led back to your adjoining classrooms, the fifth grade hall empty save for the two of you and one stray janitor, so you were the only one surprised by his outburst. 

You turned to him and caught his own cheerful gaze peering ahead, no sign of the annoyed man you had rescued from being told off by Mrs. Lee. 

“Was it that funny?” you questioned. 

He chuckled lowly this time, his lips pulled into an amused boxy smile. “Tyrannosaurus Lee.” 

Your classroom door swung open easily when your key slid into the ancient lock revealing a mess of literature posters that you thought were hilarious, but your students begged to differ. Taehyung released a whistle of surprise at the bags of paper mache flowers and butterflies lying around your classroom in messy bundles of Spring Festival preparations. You ignored it all, stepping over a large flower stem your students were still in the process of finishing. Taehyung followed you inside but side-stepped over the decorations before stopping at your desk when you reached it with a sigh. 

“I never get tired of seeing Shakespeare in MC Hammer pants,” he joked with a point behind you where the bard sat laminated in poster form. 

“It’s what he would have wanted.” 

A low mumble of affirmation followed Tae as he turned to peer across your vacant yet messy classroom while you began the search for the lint roller in the most logical place: your purse. Pushing aside your make-up bag, your wallet, a year old granola bar, and other miscellaneous snacks, you returned nothing in the way of a bright blue lint roller. Your nose scrunched at the center, mouth pulling in a sour pout. 

“Please tell me you didn’t pay for all of this yourself?” Tae’s voice came as a distraction pulling your attention to where he stood next to the largest bag filled with miscellaneous spring bugs. His expression matched your disgruntled one. 

You gave a deep sigh with a roll of your eyes. “Yep.” 

“Why?”

“There wasn’t room in the budget this year for the Spring Festival, so we had to make due if we wanted to keep it,” you explained, turning to dig through your messy drawers for the sought after lint roller. 

He made a weird, confused noise from across the room. “I thought parents were donating?” 

“Wasn’t enough for decorations.” You closed one drawer a little harder than you intended before opening another. “We tried asking Principal Do for a little money, but he wouldn't budge. Said it wasn't a priority.”  

Taehyung released a bitter laugh, knowing exactly what you meant. Every excuse you had both received from the administration had something to do with the fabled budget. There was never enough money to replace Taehyung's ancient and faulty overhead projector, but Mr. Won down the hall could get a brand new smart board for his Math class that he never uses. You had to carry the burden of your school’s yearly Spring Festival while the boy’s basketball team could have an end of the year party on the school’s dime. You were almost certain “the budget” was code for “go fuck yourself.” 

“Ah, here it is!” You called triumphantly with the blue handle tucked securely in between your fingers. 

Tae smiled gratefully as you extended it to him, taking it gingerly in his hand. He struggled a little bit in between rolls of the sticky substance along the fabric of his sweater, especially when he had to rip off a new clean sheet to pick up the remaining specks of glitter, but by the time Tae was done, he looked as clean as ever. 

A sigh fluttered out from his rosy lips, expression at ease. “What would I do without you?” 

“Walk around all day looking like a fairy,” you snorted.  

“I’d accept looking like a fairy if I could commit to the aesthetic, but this,” he waved his hands over the cardigan once more, “ this is not suitable.” 

“That may not be, but I’ve seen the majority of your wardrobe. You definitely have pieces in there that’ll work.” 

He dropped the lint roller back on your desk. “Any suggestions?” 

Your gaze held his in contempt with an unamused frown pulling the corners of your lips low. Tae, on the other hand, beamed at you with a trickster’s glint in his brown eyes. “That white button up with the green collar” 

“The one with the flowers and butterflies?” 

“That’s the one.” 

“How is that appropriate for fairies?” 

“Throw some glitter on there, you’ll be golden.” 

“Nice to know you think about my clothes often.” He tilted his head to one side, brush of bangs sweeping across his tan forehead to deliver the most sultry stare you had ever received from him.  

You grabbed the lint roller off your desk, twisting the handle under fidgeting hands. “Don’t look at me like that.” 

“Whatever do you mean?” 

“You know what I mean.” 

Taehyung leaned against your desk, hip pressed to the edge drawing your attention to the sly slant of his grin. His eyes softened around the edges when your gaze held strong with his. “Do you need help with the Spring Festival?” 

“It’s almost done.” You shrugged. 

“At least let me help set up, then.” 

You tapped your foot against the edge of your desk opposite of Taehyung, your mouth twisted to one side in thought. On the one hand, you were touched that he offered to help when he didn’t have to, but on the other, you didn’t want to burden him with a project he didn’t sign up for just because you wanted an extra hand and maybe some eye candy to get through the grueling afternoon set up. Besides, you knew you wouldn’t be the only one ogling the vivacious redhead.  

“You’ll just distract the PTA moms.” 

The roll of his eyes was almost audible. 

“Don’t avoid this by making jokes,” he whined, “That’s my job.” 

“It’s fine.” You spun your swivel chair in a circle until it came to a stop facing him.  

“If you deny me, I’ll stay anyway and really distract the PTA moms.” 

“Why?” It was your turn to whine. 

Taehyung gave you a chuckle. “So at least you’ll have someone to walk you to your car at night.” 

A heat began to rise on the tips of your ears with the stutter of your heart at his words. Taehyung was an incredible flirt, but sometimes, when he dropped the flirtatious exterior and became genuine— even thoughtful—with you, it was just too much for your poor little heart. You felt that he sometimes acted that way to disarm you, perplex you, because he found it funny to see you stutter at his words or blush furiously at his small touches. At times you wished he would stop, but the majority of the time you wished he would go further than simple touches or the tame offer of walking you to your car. 

“Teacher Kim? What’re you doing in here?” Ten year old confusion startled the both of you to turn to the door where you found a student you both dealt with standing just outside the threshold of your classroom. She peered at the two of you, a small crease appearing under her straight bangs that dangled over her suspicious gaze. 

“Talking about fairies,” Taehyung winked conspiratorially at you. 

The ring of the bell tore your gaze from Taehyung back to the entrance of your classroom. Vivi, to her credit, looked as confused as you suspected anyone would, but she simply shrugged and proceeded to her seat. A chorus of excited voices proceeding down the hall finally forced Tae to give you one last smile before exiting the room with another deliciously delivered “thank you.” 

---------

Pastel colored streamers already dangled from constructed booths and systematically placed tables around the fake wood floor that creaked beneath your feet as you entered the school gymnasium with a huge chunk of wood balanced precariously along your toes. A small speaker somewhere among the mess played some generic pop song through the echoing walls, all of the committee members along with volunteers sorting and hanging the decorations that had been made by numerous classrooms and students. Your eyes scanned over the mess, a slippery anxiety slowly crawling it’s way up your esophagus. 

You hated being on the Festival committee. 

“Why is paper mache so heavy?” Taehyung complained from beside you, the three large bags of the decorations trailed behind him along with the legs of a step stool latched onto his shoulder until he came to a stop at your side, exhausted exhale passing through plump lips. 

“I think it’s the glue,” you muttered. 

He hummed as his eyes gave a cursory glance around the crowded floor with an indifferent expression. However, you could see that a lot more eyes were on you now that he stood beside you, a lot of thirsty, hungry eyes that were devouring him where he stood. Like with Mrs. Lee, you knew he was ignoring it, but you couldn’t. 

“Come on, you’re already distracting them,” you grumbled, leading Taehyung away from the door to a small corner of the gym where no decorations lay. 

At your last meeting, you had divided up the gym into game sections where everyone from the committee would set up their game and help run it during the event. You had gotten the bug toss, a run of the mill carnival ball toss game where participants had five chances to stack up as many points as they could by throwing a bug shaped ball into five openings on a board painted to look like a grassy field with a ladybug on the side. Your third period class had happily painted the board instead of learning the thrilling parts of speech, but you got to torture them with it another day anyway, so it didn’t really matter to you.

You propped the board up against the wall in a huff, your arms not long enough to properly carry such a large piece of wood, but you had been damned to let Taehyung do all of the heavy lifting. He had offered, oh how he offered, to carry literally everything from your room and had almost succeeded had it not been for his own hubris and a rather comical arm cramp. That’s when you had won and were allowed to carry at least one thing. You were sure he assumed you’d go for one of the bags, but you decided to challenge him instead. Your arms hated you for it, but your pride gloated. 

He dropped the bags next to you then stood back to look over everything now on the floor. It was going to be a long afternoon. 

“Where do we start, boss?” he asked, hands already ripping open the bag closest to him with glee. 

You opted to open another bag, the one with the giant flowers and fake grass, and shrugged. “We just gotta make it look nice. Coherent.” 

“Can do,” he grumbled. 

Pulling out the paper grass first, you laid it out on the floor in a heap of pieces before taking a seat facing the wall where you were planning on taping them. The pieces were numbered, something your second period class had decided to do since the color of grass apparently went in a sequence of dark green to slightly lighter green, but you didn’t complain once you started sorting it. You found it odd how meticulous they had been, their pride exuding from their little faces when they approached you with the pile of colored paper. At least they had something to be proud of, you thought, as you began taping section by section along the glossy paint of the gym wall.  

You noticed Taehyung take his position on the other side of the board with bug cut outs in hand, but no tape. You hadn’t thought far enough to grab two rolls of the gorilla tape, so you slid your only one over to him until it hit his foot quietly. He looked down, a goofy smile appearing across his face as he went to pick it up. 

“We’ll have to go get more eventually,” he remarked as he ripped off pieces of the sticky fastener, alternating between sticking one piece of it on the board by his side then handing another piece for you to use. 

You flattened your hand along the newly secured blades. “We’ll deal with that when we run out.” 

Taehyung hummed, one vibrantly colored butterfly being pressed into the wall with the help of four pieces of tape. You both worked in quiet unity as you dealt with the lower section while Taehyung went for the higher stuff. You had to admit, it was rather peaceful having Taehyung with you, his presence making you feel less overwhelmed than you would have been had he not insisted on helping you. 

As you worked, you continuously stole glances up at him as he moved back and forth between the bag of decorations and the wall. He had changed into sweats and a plain black t-shirt after the last of your wonderful students had left the building, the blue cardigan from earlier discarded into a gym bag he kept in his car for his work out days. 

The shirt was loose, but hung over his frame so exquisitely that you could make out the working muscles in his back, the bulge of his biceps when he raised a paper mache lady bug up to the wall, and every once in a while, the dip of his collar bones when he bent down to retrieve more decorations. His sweats, while laced at his hips, showcased the curve of his ass so much better than any of the other pants he owned. You suddenly could really relate with those sexually repressed PTA moms. 

“Like the view?” Taehyung asked without turning to you, but his voice was enough to snap you out of your reverie. 

You turned back down to your work, hands securing an already secure piece of grass. “I’m just checking to make sure you’re doing it right.” 

“Right.” Taehyung nodded, unconvinced. “Or maybe you’re cataloging this outfit since you’ve never seen it before, you know, because you always ignore my invitations to work out with me.” 

You pushed yourself to stand once the final piece of grass was on your side of the wall. Next was going past the board and over to Taehyung’s side. “The only exercise I do is chasing my cat when he tries to steal student homework.” 

You eyed the area by his legs, understanding that if he continued to work on the same side, you would end up being pressed between him and the wall. You decided to brush him away instead, ensuring that he was a few feet behind you before plopping back down on the floor. 

“Your cat eats their homework?” 

You pulled a few pieces of grass towards you. “I’ve had to write a few apology notes to parents.” 

“That must have gone over well.” 

“My cat’s an asshole.” 

Taehyung crouched down next to you, the remaining pieces of grass firmly held in his palm along with all of the tape you had saved for the job. You gave him a confused pout that made him laugh, his body so astronomically close you could feel the vibrations from the action. “I can do these. Start putting up decorations on your side of the wall.”

Your pout revealed itself unallowed, but you pushed yourself to stand even if it was just to give yourself some space from the gorgeous man. He immediately took the seat you vacated with a grin and a wink up to you. Chills found their way up your spine as they often did when Tae looked at you like that and you found yourself cowering in awkward attention. “Th...the colors are numbered. Students made sure of it.” 

The cocky grin fell to an endeared smile. “I know, fairy.” 

If you turned any redder, you were sure you would wind up looking like the streamers adorning the first grade booth in the corner of the gym. 

Your mouth set into a thin line that you attempted to turn into a smile, but thankfully Tae only winked and turned down to the task at hand instead of saying anything else. Without his attention, you felt it a little easier to breathe. 

Focusing on your own task, you began dragging out the large flowers and bug cut outs left in the plastic bag you had chosen as yours. Your students had the most fun making the flowers, especially when it came to construct the paper mache stem to attach to the large flower heads they made out of many, many pieces of construction paper. More than a few of them had stuck the gooey pieces of newspaper to their friends instead of the flowers, but no injuries were incurred so you didn’t really care that much as long as it got done. 

You settled the step stool firmly against the wall with one hand occupied with a bundle of cut out bugs. You then grabbed the tape and climbed up until you stood higher than the edge of the board settled between you and Taehyung. Your gaze fell down to him for half a second and that's when you noticed not so subtly that you stood at the perfect vantage point to gaze down Taehyung’s loose shirt like a pervy gawker at a Hooters. Cheeks sparked in rosy flames just in time for you to turn away before he noticed your reaction to the skin visible past the neckline of his shirt. It was his choice to wear such a loose shirt, you justified, unable to stop your mind from wondering what lay just beneath the dip of his collarbones. 

Butterflies soared in your stomach along with shame at the mental image your mind produced for you. Obviously, you thought Taehyung was handsome and, obviously, you had maybe fantasized about him once or twice, but you couldn't understand why you were so thirsty for him now of all days. Maybe the slimy energy from the PTA moms was rubbing off on you. 

Shaking your head of the thought, focus and attention turned back to the bug cut outs you were supposed to be taping to the wall. Quietly you cut off three pieces of tape then let the core slide down your arm until it settled against your elbow. Your fingers tentatively stuck two bugs haphazardly along the wall to give the appearance that they were flying with the other remaining cut outs flattened in the press of your thighs.

"Think I could get some more tape?" Taehyung pulled your attention from your work to find him with a hand extended up towards you. 

You were dazzled for a minute by the look of his deep, brown eyes gazing up at you expectantly, but you quickly came back to your senses when he began to get up. 

“Yeah sorry. Here--” 

The heel of your right foot met air on your way off the step-stool finding you toppling backwards unexpectedly. Your heart shot up into your throat as the same step stool screeched against the polished wood and you didn’t even have a chance to try to save yourself by the time you met a softer surface than the floor. One that smelled suspiciously like pine needles and coffee. 

Eyes grew wide when you realized who you were pressed against just in time for him to settle you on your own two feet, then turning you to face a very concerned expression on Taehyung's face.  

“Are you ok?” he questioned, hands roaming over your arms, waist, and back in search of an injury. 

The sensation of his hands on you jarred you enough to brush him off. “I’m fine.” 

He ignored your complaints, instead holding your head firmly between his two palms, his bright brown eyes boring holes into your own through the sheen of his round glasses. You were so enthralled with his intense gaze, you didn’t notice his fingers until they flicked you across the forehead. “Watch where you step next time.” 

Your response came in a grumbled “ow” that he only caught because he was still ridiculously close to you, but that was fixed when you pushed him away in retaliation, panicked eyes looking for the roll of sticky substance he had wanted only to find it a slight distance away. 

“Can you help me get the tape? Please?” 

He only shook his head, his hands brushing over your hair one more time before his footsteps squeaked their way along the wood floor to retrieve what you had accidentally dropped. You inhaled as many gulps of air as you could, heart jack hammering away in your frantic chest.

Taehyung returned a moment later, hand offering the roll of treacherous tape. “Here. I---” 

“Mr. Kim? What’re you doing here?” 

Both you and Taehyung turned to find the expensively beautiful mom of glitter enthusiast Katie Benton standing with hands perched on her hips and a Pan Am smile on her red painted lips. 

Taehyung scratched the back of his neck. “Just helping out, Mrs. Benton” 

“Oh, wonderful! If you don’t mind, I can’t seem to reach high enough to place this hook. Can you help me?” she asked with a perky grin. 

“Sure thing." He nodded then turned to you, the roll of tape being tossed to your unexpected form. “I’ll be right back.” 

You began scratching at the loose piece of tape, eyes focused heavily on his too charming smile. “Distraction.” 

You watched him walk away with one last wink in your direction before he was engulfed by a throng of overly peppy suburban moms. They crowded around him like bottom feeders to a carcass laughing and placing perfectly manicured hands all over his shoulders and arms. Taehyung, for his part, mostly laughed as she strategically shrugged off one claw for another, but he never told them no. You believed he secretly liked it and no matter how much he denied it, and you were certain you would never believe otherwise. 

Turning back to the pile of paper bugs and plants strewn around your feet, you gave a hefty huff of breath through your parted lips suddenly finding the work just a bit overwhelming without Taehyung by your side, but you knew it had to get done. You grumbled once more after Mrs. Benton and her hoard of middle aged Desperate Housewives before tucking in your resolve and getting to work. 

--------

You couldn’t say you were particularly proud of the way your booth turned out—paper bugs unevenly placed on the wall, board propped up against two buckets filled with miscellaneous gym supplies, flowers crumpled and one halfway broken from your inability to stop them from falling—but given the lack of help and your overly exhausted body, it would have to make due. 

Taehyung never returned to your booth after he got whisked away by Mrs. Benton, the poor man being passed around to many different booths depending on the lie the moms told to get him there. You watched it happen between your own tasks, begrudgingly muttering under your breath how nice it must be to be rich and shameless. However, you hadn't taken a look in quite a while and you weren't entirely sure if Taehyung was even still around. The thought hurt your heart a little bit, mostly because he had offered to walk you to your car at the end of the night, but you figured it was for the best.  

After cleaning up your area as best you could, you wiped sweat and residue from the paper mache off on your already dirtied jeans glad that you would now be able to go home. Sweat dribbled it's way from your hairline as you gathered your things and you went to wipe it off when you turned and found Taehyung sauntering over to you. You would be lying if you said your heart didn't skip many beats, but you sure as hell wouldn't admit it, either. 

"Finished already?" He asked and you only nodded, tucking the strap of your satchel bag across your chest. He threw a sturdy arm around your shoulders in response. "Let's get out of here, then. I'm tired of being their mule." 

You laughed despite yourself, already making your way to the entrance of the gym. "You can be an ass sometimes." 

"Are you saying that because I abandoned you?" 

"Maybe." 

"I'll make it up to you, fairy," he muttered. Unsure if you were supposed to respond, you ignored the statement. 

Walking together through the gym and out into the almost empty parking lot was a quiet affair that found neither of you really wanting to break the silence. Tae still had his arm around you, the weight of it more comforting than you would care to admit, and you found yourself wishing it could stay wrapped around you forever. 

You could imagine how secure you would feel lying under his arm at night snuggled deep into the blankets with Taehyung slotted behind you. His body perfectly fit against yours like two puzzle pieces meant to lay side by side with the delectable smell of his cologne mixed with the scent that was so undeniably Taehyung enveloping you. You could almost imagine how that warmth could change to a searing heat as he held himself above you, his same arms caging you in between his body and the mattress beneath you. 

The thought of being pressed against his naked skin came so quickly that it clashed with the real reality you faced making you want to squirm away from him, unsure why the image of you two together was suddenly rearing its ugly head when you had never let your emotions get the better of you around Taehyung. He wasn’t really doing anything different, either. Maybe you were hormonal. 

Your cars came into view at the end of the third row with your smaller silver Kia looking down right pathetic next to Tae’s bulky red camaro. You had joked once that it looked like a husky pitbull revving and rolling down the asphalt every morning at 7:30 AM. He didn’t appreciate it, but you got a good laugh out of it, so you considered the joke a win. 

Tae’s arm fell from your shoulder when you stopped next to your car, shimmering flecks of multicolored dots glinting off his clothes and hair from the street lamp high above you. You smiled stupidly to yourself, hand unconsciously brushing away at the annoying craft supply. “You’re full of glitter again” 

Tae gave one disgruntled look down, heavy sigh puffing against your face. “Seems Mrs. Benton likes it as much as her daughter.” 

You leaned away from him to press your back against your driver’s side door. “She also seems to like you quite a bit, too.”  

“Gross.” His nose scrunched in the middle. “She’s married.” 

“That’s not stopping her.” 

“Well, she can’t have me. I’m not that kind of man.” 

“That you’re not,” you grumbled, tense fingers digging into the taut muscles of your shoulder as you gave the stiff joint a roll. 

Taehyung’s head tilted, confused crinkle tucking his eyebrows closer together under the fringe of bangs. Soft hands ran up and down the length of your arms, sympathetic gaze and hushed baritone voice calling you to meet his eyes. “You ok?” 

“Yeah, just a long day.” Your heart stuttered. 

“I’m sorry.” He frowned, only to wipe it off with one of his best cocky grins. “Hopefully I made it a little more tolerable?” 

Your eyes rolled halfway to the back of their sockets. 

“Yes, Taehyung, your immense help this afternoon was great.” 

“I said I’m sorry!” He whined. 

“I’m kidding.” You grumbled, dropping your gaze from him to stare at your awkwardly shifting feet beneath you. “It was nice having you there. Being on committees like that freak me out. It was nice not dealing with all of that nonsense by myself.” 

Fingers pressed under the dip of your chin forcing your eyes back to his and you noticed that he wore a soft expression again. The change in his temperament nearly gave you whiplash this time around, but his deliciously sweet smile pulled you right into him despite the dizzy feeling overtaking you. 

“Well, I’m always of service. You know that. Just ask.” 

You fought the blush, but felt it rising onto your cheeks nonetheless. “Thanks, Tae.” 

His fingers kept a grip on your chin absolutely refusing to let you look down or away again. Your body jittered under the glow of the parking lot's hazy light with every pass of Taehyung’s brown eyes over your facial features, focus diligent as if he were trying to find a glitch in your code that would make you disappear as soon as he discovered it. Lungs felt tight making it almost difficult to breathe, but you didn’t move. You didn’t even try to look away. 

A fond grin spread over the stretch of his lips as his hands moved to encompass your cheeks comfortably between his large palms. Eyes flashed down to your lips quickly startling your lungs to a near halt. He began leaning closer, hope spiraled and warred with dread in your bloodstream.

Then gently, his eyes dusted closed just as the plush of his lips warmed the space on the edge of your lips far enough to be mistaken for a peck on the cheek but close enough to prove that wasn't the case. Your hands balled into fists, unsure if your natural instinct was to push him away or pull him closer. You settled on neither, keeping your hands, instead, close against your sides as your mind reeled. 

Shocked wouldn’t even begin to cover what you felt as Taehyung pulled away leaving the sensation of his satin lips pressed into the edge of your lips. Elated, yes; blindsided , most definitely, but above all else, you felt confused. Confused because Tae had never exhibited any form of physical touch before. At least not of the kissing variety. And it made you panic. Your face must have worn your feelings plain as day, because once Taehyung opened his eyes once more, the satiated expression disappeared leaving uncertainty in its wake. 

“I---” he began, but you quickly brushed his hands off of you and turned your head to look anywhere that wasn’t at him. 

“Don’t worry about it. Those PTA moms must have gotten you really riled up.” 

“That’s not---” 

“I’m gonna head out, Tae.” You pulled open your car door with more force than you intended, propelling your body into the seat before he could stop you. “See you tomorrow?” 

He stood there dumbfounded, andalusite eyes the size of the moon on his masculine face. He stuttered a few times before settling his anxious mouth down into a defeated pout. “Yeah, see you tomorrow. Drive safe.” 

You hummed in response and pulled the door away from him effectively locking you inside the safety of your moderately dirty Kia. He waved you off once you pulled away and you sped away from that parking lot as fast as you could, desperate to get home and bury the events of the night deep in your subconscious until you couldn’t reach them. 

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

You usually refrained from drinking a glass of wine on school nights, much less three, but the heat you still felt from your interactions with Taehyung today left you exhausted. Your mind felt numb along the edges while your vision remained only a little fuzzy. The ludicrously narrated nature documentary that played on your TV garnered a half-hearted chuckle from you every time the whiny man complained to his TV producer, but you weren't sure whether you actually found it funny because of the alcohol or just clever. If you suddenly blacked out, you wouldn’t particularly mind. 

Tipping the lip of the glass into your mouth, you discovered that no wine remained in the cheap plastic. A frown presented itself on your pouty lips with a grumble following shortly after. You promised yourself only one glass, but you had broken that promise an hour ago. Now, you reached for the bottle nestled beside you on the floor, emptying the contents into the glass until the liquid almost reached the lip once more. It was the bottles turn to be empty, and you giggled as you dropped it on the ground. 

The two fast buzzes from your phone dropped your smile from your lopsided lips as your eyes fell upon the glowing screen perched on your coffee table. You almost decided to ignore it, your attention falling back to the swarm of jellyfish on your T.V. screen as the narrator compared them to his vacuous coworkers, but something told you to check and see who it was.

The drunk part of you, mostly, who really wanted it to be Taehyung. 

Struggling with the wine glass and your own imbalance, you reached over to the coffee table and snatched up the phone in unsteady fingers. You turned on the screen to find a text message awaiting you once you unlocked it, the name of the sender sending excited jitters down your spine. 

Mr. Kim. 

It was a picture. 

Your eyes scanned over the photo he sent you hungrily taking in every detail you could of the man posed in front of a mirror wearing a velvety navy blue shirt over nice fitting black slacks. His hair appeared slightly tousled and a little wet from what looked to be a shower. You couldn’t help the way your mouth watered, eyes only catching the words below the picture after scanning the whole image twice. 

[9:48 PM] Think I should wear this shirt tomorrow?

A crinkle formed on the bridge of your nose at the question.

[9:50 PM] You: Why are you asking me?

[9:51 PM] Mr. Kim: I was gonna wear the fairy shirt, but it’s dirty.

[9:51 PM] Mr. Kim: Help me pick out another one? 

[9:53 PM] You: Why? 

Suddenly your phone began buzzing in your palm with the same name of the man you did not want to speak to while inebriated flashing green across the glass screen. You hesitated in swiping to answer, but answered the call too quickly before he was sent to voicemail. 

“It’s the Spring Festival tomorrow. I gotta look sparkly!” he offered in place of a simple hello, his voice sounding far too awake for someone who had to be back at work in seven hours.  

“So Mrs. Benton can find you easier?” you grumbled.

“Jealous?” 

“How about the rose pink button up? That’ll look good with gold glitter.” 

“Nice change of subject.” You could hear the amusement in his voice being slightly rustled by what sounded like fabric being pulled over the speaker until it quieted and he gave a sigh. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you more today. You were right. They’re vultures.” 

“You liked it.” 

“I would have liked being with you way more.” 

“Stop being a flirt.” You dropped your head into your available hand, his words making your drunken cheeks burn hotter than before.  

“I’m being honest! I like you so much more than all those PTA moms combined.” 

You wanted to ask if that’s why he kissed you, but lost the courage. “That’s just because we’re on the same team.” 

“That’s not the only reason.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Mmm, I’ll tell you tomorrow. Get some sleep. It’s gonna be another long day.” 

He hung up the call before you could pester him into giving you an actual answer, leaving you sat in silence with only the company of the whiny British man on T.V. to help you make sense of your muddled thoughts. 

-----

You hadn’t seen Tae all day. You weren’t avoiding him. Not necessarily. You just happened to be so busy with the Spring Festival preparation that had taken you out of your classroom before first period even began that bumping into Tae was almost impossible. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to see him. You just hadn’t had the chance. Your freakishly early arrival and blatant ducking every time Tae made an appearance had nothing to do with it, either. At least that’s what you proclaimed to an imaginary judge and jury that sat judgmentally in your brain. 

Heading into the afternoon portion of the Spring Festival, you yawned. It wasn’t a pretty yawn, a delicate yawn, something akin to a dainty fawn snuggled warm in a bed of roses. No, your yawn was ghastly, wide, and tumultuous as it fell from behind your pressed palm loud enough to call the attention of your two homeroom helpers, Vivi and Luisa. They giggled when you turned from them with a five minute signal, asking them to man the station while you took a small walk to the snack table by the stage on your right. Your first order of business: nabbing some sort of bread thing. 

You weren’t worried about leaving the two girls behind. After all, they were two of your favorite students, hard working and diligent, and they often made it a habit to linger by your room when they had free time. You trusted them without a doubt. And they liked you enough to stick with you for all six hours of the festival without complaint. It was a good little thing you had going. 

However, it was because of their favoritism towards you, no doubt, that they picked up on your downcast demeanor that morning when they showed up to help. They asked if you were sick, and you had to contend that, no, you weren’t you were just tired. They then proceeded to tease you, asking if you were tired because you had stayed up all night with Mr. Kim. You let them live with that lie, because even that was better than the truth. 

What you didn’t tell them was how viciously hungover you were from that bottle of wine the night before, the stench of the sugary liquor still stuck in your nostrils. All because of their second favorite teacher, Mr. Kim. 

Gingerly, you nibbled on a piece of Graham cracker you snuck from the donations box hidden under the snack table, hoping that it would stave off the nausea you so vehemently felt. This is why you didn't drink often, you kept telling yourself, present you chastising past you for putting you in this kind of predicament. And the day before the Spring Festival, come on really? You almost wanted to go back in time and slap the wine bottle out of your past selves hand. This was cruel and unusual punishment. You felt so bad that the very idea of crawling under the snack table to stop the world from spinning seemed like a viable option. 

But you didn't. Because you were an adult. And people were watching.  

Instead, you cast your eyes outward over the crowd of happy children and mildly annoyed parents taking inventory of those you had met before and those you’ve never seen in your life. You could make out the teachers in the room just by body language alone and the way they all kept to the edges of the commotion with watchful eyes trained on their group of homeroom rugrats. It was then that you spotted a familiar face, the one you weren't intentionally hiding from, strolling your way through the mess of people that were currently crowding up his gym. 

You noticed the handsome, young gym teacher before he noticed you, but when he did notice, a bright smile overtook his charming face as he approached you at the table, a hoard of small plastic cups filled with the sugary beverage provided by Mr. Park's homeroom nestled just behind you in your own treasure pile. Just like a magpie. 

“Hey Jungkook.” You waved happily at him as he arrived, your own smile mirroring his bright one.

“Hey, Teach. How’re you doing?” 

You hummed through a piece of graham cracker. “Hungover, but don’t tell anyone that.” 

“Secrets safe with me.” He motioned an x over his heart, ensuring you that he wouldn’t tell anyone. It made you giggle a little bit. 

Jungkook was one of your colleagues that you actually, genuinely liked as a person. He was funny in a dorky, charming way that often left you endeared to him after speaking with him for a handful of minutes. He also never took himself too seriously and was not afraid of being the butt of a joke if it meant others around him would be happy. His looks didn’t hurt either because, shit, was the man hot. That was neither here nor there though, as you actually saw him as a close friend, not a potential romantic interest. 

However, not everyone crowding in the gym felt the same as you did towards the younger gym teacher. If you thought the PTA moms were being vicious with Taehyung, you had another thing coming when they locked their sights on poor, defenseless Jeon Jungkook. 

“What’re you doing here?” You asked whilst you subtly eyed every thirsty mom who threw longing gazes Jungkook’s way. 

He awkwardly shrugged. “You know, checking stuff out.” 

“Hiding?” 

“Whatever do you mean?” 

You raised the half eaten Graham cracker to your mouth, nibbling on an edge like a gerbil. “Tae had the same problem last night.” 

Hearing this, Jungkook's expression opened like the floods unleashed on an unsuspecting biblical village. His eyes grew wide, mouth hung ajar in bewilderment as he groaned. “Dude, they’re vultures. Like can’t they buy vibrators or something?” 

“I’m sure they have plenty." 

“Oh, that’s a mental image I did not want." 

“You gave it to yourself,” you snickered. 

He only winced.

You continued to nibble on your sweet treat as you and Jungkook fell into silence once more. Well, as silent as you could be in a room full of kids and parents all pretending they didn't mind the nauseating Baby Shark playing over the speakers. You almost wanted to ask Jungkook if he could watch your booth for a minute while you suffered in true silence somewhere else, but a figure strolling into the gym made you pause. Body growing tense as eyes cast downward to avoid him seeing you staring at him. 

Jungkook, for all the good he was, bent down so his mouth was closer to your ear level. “Looks like I’m not the only one hiding.” 

You flashed him a glare. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Did something happen with you and Mr. Kim?” 

“I’m gonna feed you to the vultures.” 

It was his turn to snicker as he caught sight of Mr. Kim looking around the gym, no doubt looking for you. He wasn't sure what the situation was between you two at the moment, but he knew sexual tension when he saw it and fuck was it rolling off the two of you whenever he caught you guys talking.

Jungkook watched Mr. Kim, Taehyung, seemingly attract to you like a moth to a very enticing flame and he wasted no time in b-lining straight for the pair of you when he did catch sight of you gnawing on the graham cracker. You refused to lift your head to watch him make his way over and Jungkook had half a mind to stay quiet just to see how this would play out. For amusements sake, of course. 

He found it best to warn you before you punched him for not warning you. “He’s coming over. Give me a signal if you need to be rescued” 

You very nearly told him to fuck off. In front of the students. 

“Hey! There you are!" Taehyung's voice interrupted your angry thoughts calling your attention to him rather than the annoyingly mischievous gym teacher. 

“Hey,” you muttered, enthusiasm lost on the syllable. 

Taehyung didn't notice. Instead, he stretched one arm away from his body, the other tucked behind his back, as a shit eating grin plastered itself on his gorgeously tan face. “So what do you think? Fairy enough?” 

“Why’s your hand behind your back?” 

“Ah. See.” He cleared his throat, then swept his arm out to reveal a pretty red rose, freshly cut. “Some students felt generous enough to give me a rose they won, but with one caveat: I had to give it to you” 

You could blame your reddening cheeks on the hangover, but that would be a lie. Blaming the sudden wave of nausea on the hangover would be a lie too. “What? Tae, you don’t have to it’s fi---” 

“I really owe them for this, actually. Didn’t have the guts to just outright say it,” he grinned right through your stuttering response.  

“Say what?” 

Instead of answering, he extended a hand out to you-the hand without the rose-and shifted his grin into a charmingly shy smile you couldn’t exactly resist. 

“Come take a break with me. I’m sure Jeon won’t mind watching the booth for a few minutes.” 

“I---” you stammered, brain all but pudding in your cranial cavity so much so that you couldn’t even resist. All you could do was look back to a very pleased Jungkook who looked like the cat that caught the canary. “Kookie, do you mind?” 

“Remember you’re still at work, please?” he winked. 

“That’s not---we won’t---” 

“No promises, Jeon.” Taehyung waved him off as he grasped your hand in his. 

You swore you heard entertained snickering as you walked away from Jungkook, but it could also have been the beehive swarming in your ears that produced the noise. You weren’t sure. You also weren’t sure how you ended up in front of Taehyung’s classroom given that you didn’t even remember leaving the gym. You were quite surprised you made it out without any big issues, if you were being honest. 

Tae unlocked the class then swiftly pulled you inside before locking the door once again, probably so no one would bother you. Your confusion only grew when you came back to yourself fully and realized that you were alone. With Taehyung. In his classroom. And he looked amazing. As always, but still. Nerves began to grow despite you trying to stop them. 

“Tae, what’re we doing in here?” you turned to him in bewilderment, but he left no room for a verbal response. 

Eyes grew the size of cathedral windows when you felt the soft press of his honey mint lips against your very chapped ones. Your body froze in the moment as you took it all in, the absurdity of the situation unfolding before you. 

There you were, dressed in messy jeans and a rumpled t-shirt with a vicious hangover paling out your complexion. Your hair was, no doubt, a horrendous rat’s nest and your breath, no doubt, tasted of expired alcohol and graham crackers. And you were kissing Taehyung. Taehyung, the man who stole your heart slowly without you noticing. Taehyung, the man who you never would have guessed wanted you in the way you wanted him. Taehyung, the man you swore was going to be just your friend for the rest of your life. You were kissing Kim friggen Taehyung. Or rather he was kissing you. Because you couldn’t fucking move an inch with your body set to stone from anxiety alone. 

You wanted to fall into a deep hole of self loathing. That is until Tae’s large hand came to press against the back of your head, his tongue giving your bottom lip a bold swipe and you were lost. 

To hell with insecurities, the kiss felt damn amazing. 

You weren’t bold enough to dig your fingers into the loose shirt adorning his torso, but you did allow yourself the comfort of falling into his body with every inch of your chest pressed tightly against his own. The surroundings faded the longer the kiss went on until you both forgot where you were along with the even more pressing issue of what you two were doing being absurdly inappropriate. 

Because it was absurdly inappropriate. If the school principal caught you...

It seemed that thought, covered in images of the school principal firing both of you, added the cold dose of reality for you and you softly pushed Tae away until only your breaths mingled. He chased your lips desperately, yet you kept your steady palm resting along the flat plains of his chest until he was able to look at you with clear eyes.

You didn’t dare verbally ask the question that was raging in your mind, but you were shit at hiding your emotions, so you knew Tae was able to read every last word on your perplexed expression. He sighed after a few heartbeats, eyes falling for a second to the crumpled rose on the floor then rising back up to meet yours. 

“I like you. A lot. So much.” He gulped, unsteady lungs pumping unsteady breaths across the expanse of your face. “I’m sorry I’m being so forward about this. I’ve tried...so hard to show you how I feel, but I could never tell if you understood. You always look at me with those damn doe eyes...I didn’t want to take a chance anymore. I like you.” 

Utter sincerity dripped from his expression, yet you could do nothing but remain silent. So many emotions warred within you from elated to cautious then circled right around to fear and dread. You didn't know how to interpret all of them at once, so all you did was stare back at him like, well, a deer in the headlights. It made Taehying anxious, tongue running nervously over his bottom lip, hand clenching in a fist where it came to rest on the wall behind your head. “Please say something.” 

You gulped. “Tae...we work right next to each other” 

“I know.” 

“If this doesn’t work out…” 

“Trust me, I know.” he sighed, very nearly relieved as he rested his forehead against yours.  “But, last night...when I kissed you...I knew I couldn’t get around it anymore. Vivi and Luisa just helped push me along, I guess.” 

Hearing the name of your two students made you pause and pull away from him, mind working overtime to figure out when in the hell they had time to do that. “They gave you the rose?” 

“Told me to just tell you I loved you already.” His laugh turned into a bewildered expression when he caught the shocked stare you gave him. “Don’t freak out. I’m not saying I do--- but totally not saying I don't ...although that’s the natural progression right? If this works out and we---” 

His nervous chattering quieted with the layer of your lips against his, which was exactly what you wanted. You weren't worried of him loving you or not loving you, at least not yet. You just got him. You wanted to explore your relationship first. Just the way you never wanted to stop exploring his delicious mouth. But, when you started grinning at the thoughts of all the things you would get to do with each other, you knew you had to stop and set the record straight. 

A cheesy grin spread across your mouth when you noticed how pacified he looked. 

You couldn’t help but give him a single peck. “I like you too, dummy.” 

He hummed. “You do?” 

As an answer, you resumed where you left off absolutely living for the soft slide of your lips that worked in tandem while, unaware, somewhere out on the school grounds were scores of parents, teachers, and your boss who were all none the wiser of what was happening in the fifth grade History teacher’s classroom. It almost made you laugh with nervous excitement were it not for Taehyung's arms slipping around your waist. 

He pulled you flush against his body until you could feel every firm, toned muscle under his goddamn self proclaimed fairy shirt. He was radiating a comforting heat you couldn't get enough of. You wanted to run your hands over his warm skin, slip your greedy fingers under the offensive fabric and see how it feels to have Taehyung under your fingertips. How he would squirm under you, but you refrained. 

After all, you were still at work.   

He pulled away from you first with a look of nervous intent in his eyes you couldn’t quite read. After a confession like the one he just gave you, you weren’t sure why he would be unsure of himself now. Yet, there he was. You softly brushed your thumb over the glistening saliva surrounding his mouth, hoping to give him a little courage. 

“Wanna come over to my place tonight?” 

This time, you were the one unsure. “Tae--” 

“Not for that,” he laughed, then tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, all tenderness in his smile. “I want to make you dinner. Have an actual date with you.”

You wouldn't be able to stop the jack hammering in your chest even if you tried. And you didn't try. Because those words, this feeling, were exactly what you always wanted with Taehyung. You couldn't deny yourself any more.  

“I would love to.” 

#taehyung scenarios #kim taehyung scenarios #bts scenarios #taehyung fluff #kim taehyung fluff #v fluff #bts v fluff #bts v scenarios #v scenarios #bts #kim taehyung #taehyung fic #kim taehyung fic #v fic #bts v fic #fluff #angst if you squint

[sunflowersupremes]

Such Wow. Many Normal. Very Oops.

Just the boys being dorks and getting stuck in a wall.  

Kinktober 2020: Stuck in a Wall & Toys Whumptober Day 28: Such Wow. Many Normal. Very Oops

Tags: Modern AU, NSFW

Characters: Geralt, Dandelion

Series: Witcher in Quarantine

Read on AO3

As part of his bribery to convince Dandelion not to break quarantine, Geralt had agreed to let the man help him to fix up the old house. He’d expected it to go poorly, because most things involving Dandelion did (in fact, he’d hoped Dandelion would grow bored within a few days. He had not).

What Geralt hadn’t anticipated was Dandelion trying to squeeze through the old wall they were working on. It had a large hole it in, nearly at waist height, that Geralt was trying to decide the best method of covering it. At some point in the past it might have served a purpose - he vaguely recalled it being part of a dumbwaiter, but the rest of the holes had been patched up.

So they had decided just to board over it, Dandelion on one side and Geralt on the other. He’d turned his back for just a moment then turned back around to see Dandelion’s head and shoulders poking out of the wall.

Apparently he’d decided he ought to squeeze through to surprise Geralt.

It did surprise him, but then Dandelion had gotten stuck.

Once he finished laughing at him, Geralt went around to the room Dandelion had been working in to see if he might be able to get him out easier that way.

He wasn’t presented with any solutions, only Dandelion’s ass wriggling about as the man whined and protested. His hands were apparently stuck in the wall, since Geralt couldn’t see them on either side, leaving him completely incapacitated.  It seemed that in the process of wiggling through the wall Dandelion had knocked loose part of the old dumbwaiter which had slid down and pinned him. It would be an easy enough fix, he’d only have to go up into the attic and raise the pulleys, but for the time being it was most enjoyable to watch Dandelion struggle.

Unable to resist, Geralt landed a sharp smack on his butt.

“Ow!” Dandelion’s voice was somewhat muffled, given that his head was on the other side of the wall, but Geralt could hear his irritation. “What was that for?”

“Stupidity,” he replied, giving him another smack.

“Rude,” the singer grumbled. “Geralt, get me out.”

“Why should I?” retorted the Witcher. “At least if you’re stuck in a wall I won’t have to worry about you wandering off to go into town.”

“Geralt!” He struggled pathetically for a moment, then went limp. “I’m stuck,” he whined.

“I thought we had already established that, bard.” It usually amused Dandelion when Geralt used old fashioned terms like “bard” but at the moment he seemed too frustrated.  

“No, Geralt, I’m really stuck, like Winnie the Pooh in Rabbit’s hole.”

Winnie the Pooh? Geralt snorted. “How old are you again, Dandelion?”

The poet attempted to kick him, but Geralt stepped back easily, then landed another slap on his ass, then left his hand resting there.

“Geeraalt.”

“Hmm, I’m considering it.”

“Considering? Considering what?”

He didn’t speak, instead pressing his thumb between Dandelion’s asscheeks, above his hole.

Dandelion yelped as he felt the pressure through his thin leggings. “You wouldn’t! Geralt!”

Well, thought the Witcher with a grin, he didn’t actually say no. Kneeling down, he peeled back Dandelion’s pants, pressing kisses against his exposed skin. The singer whimpered and struggled.

“Settle down, Dandelion,” he said. “I’ll give you what you want.”

“How do you know what I want?”

In answer, the Witcher bit his ass, pulling a breathy moan from his friend. “Geeraalt.”

“Yes, Dandelion?”

“You’re cruel.”

He laughed, scratching Dandelion’s back and pushing himself up. “Where are you going?” Dandelion shouted as he stepped away.

Geralt didn’t answer, deciding it would annoy the singer more if he remained silent. He grabbed what he needed and then made his way back to his friend. Dandelion was clearly unhappy, even from only behind able to see his lower half. Geralt sat the toy he’d brought on the ground, then drizzled a bit of the lube over Dandelion’s backside.

“Please,” Dandelion whined.

“Please what?”

Dandelion sniffled. “Geralt, this is not comfortable-”

“Just say your word and I’ll stop.”

But Dandelion’s safe word didn’t make an appearance, so Geralt scooped up a bit of lube on one finger before pressing it inside the singer’s ass slowly. Dandelion twitched around him, groaning.

Geralt rested his free hand on Dandelion’s back, rubbing soothing circles, until the man was nearly limp. Then he added a bit more lube - despite Dandelion’s grumbles that he was slick enough - and pushed in a second finger.

“Now,” Geralt said, slowly spreading two fingers. “We need to have a talk about something.”

“We- what? Is this the time?” Dandelion asked breathlessly.

“You can’t go fooling about in this house, Dandelion, it’s not safe. There’s all manner of things that could hurt you. I imagine you thought it was terribly clever going through the wall, but don’t make a habit of practical jokes.”

“Geralt-”

He withdrew his fingers and struck Dandelion’s ass firmly. “Am I clear Dandelion?” he asked.

“Ow! Yes, Geralt. I’ll behave.”

Geralt didn’t believe him for one moment, and landed several more slaps on the poet’s backside.

“Geeeeraaalltttt.”

He finally stopped the punishment, deciding instead that he’d rather make Dandelion feel good. Dropping to his knees Geralt pressed a kiss against Dandelion’s hole, drawing a long, delighted whine from the singer. “Oh Geralt, please,” he moaned.

Geralt pressed lazy kisses up and down Dandelion’s thighs, using his fingers to carefully tease his cock and balls. After a few moments he slowly pressed his fingers back inside Dandelion, curling them until he found the bundle of nerves he’d been looking for.

Dandelion cried out with delight and Geralt smiled. It didn’t take much to stretch Dandelion enough - the singer liked a bit of burn when he was entered, and he was good at relaxing his muscles, so soon Geralt was unbuttoning his pants, sliding them down just enough so that he could pull out his cock.

After applying a bit more lube, he lined up with Dandelion’s hole. “Relax,” he urged before slipping his cockhead in past the tight ring of muscle.

Dandelion let out a keening wail. Geralt paused, waiting to see if the man’s safe word would be used, but after a moment (during which Dandelion attempted to press back against him) Geralt decided it was safe to keep going.

He pulled out, gripped Dandelion’s hips, and slammed in roughly.

His friend cried out in pain, then, before Geralt could ask if he was alright, gasped, “More!”

Geralt didn’t need to be told twice. He set a brutal pace, fucking into Dandelion’s welcoming body.

He didn’t bother dragging it out, he’d already been hard since he’d see Dandelion’s ass wriggling about in the wall. Besides, he had more plans for the afternoon than a long, lazy fuck (not to mention, he preferred to keep that sort of entertainment in an actual bed).

After a few breathless minutes, Geralt felt his balls tightening and he pressed himself as deep inside Dandelion as possible, digging his nails into the singer’s tender flesh to make him whimper and clench.

That was enough to push him over the edge and Geralt groaned in ecstasy.

He took a moment after his orgasm to get himself under control, then wiped himself clean and buttoned his pants back up.

Dandelion, unable to touch himself, was still hard and desperate. “Geralt- Geralt- I- oh fuck I’m so hard,” he babbled breathlessly. “I can’t- Geralt touch me, my hands- stuck- please.”

Geralt rubbed his back slowly, then knelt down and picked up the toy he’d brought earlier. It was one of Dandelion’s that the man had brought with him, and Geralt hadn’t gotten a chance to try it out before. As a self proclaimed sex expert, Dandelion had all manner of toys, which came as a surprise to Geralt who didn’t understand why so many of them needed to be charged. The one he’d picked out even had a remote control.

He studied it for a moment, as Dandelion continued to writhe and beg. Once he was certain he’d figured it out, he carefully pushed it inside Dandelion’s ass. He stepped back, slipping the remote into his pocket.

“Hey!” Dandelion yelped. “Geralt you bastard! Take it out!”

Instead of obeying, Geralt landed a hard slap on his ass. “I think not,” he said. “I’m far happier knowing where you are, after all, so that you can’t sneak off and try to go to town.”

“I hate you.”

“I don’t think you do,” Geralt replied, eyeing his still hard cock. Knowing it would annoy Dandelion, he pulled the man’s leggings back up, pausing only to squeeze his cock and press one last kiss to his ass. Although tempted to make Dandelion remain pantsless, didn’t want to risk him getting cold (and it would annoy him to have lube and cum in his leggings, which was a good excuse for them both to soak in a tub). Then he landed one last slap on Dandelion’s ass and strode away.

He returned to the room he’d been working in earlier, where Dandelion’s head was poking out. His face was flushed and streaked with tears and dust and he had a pout on his face that no adult ought to have been able to pull off.

Geralt pulled a stool across the room and sat beside him, gently cupping his friend’s face.

“Geeraalt,” he whined pathetically.

“Pipe down, Dandelion,” the Witcher soothed, stroking his cheeks. “I’ll get you out in a few minutes.”

“Geralt my cock is going to fall off,” Dandelion moaned.

The Witcher snorted. “Don’t be so dramatic, Dandelion,” he scolded.

“I’m being completely serious, Geralt, this- this isn’t funny, it hurts,” he whined, giving the Witcher a pleading look.

Geralt discreetly slipped one hand into his pocket and clicked the button on the remote. It must have been almost instant, because Dandelion lurched and cried out.

“Feeling better?” Geralt asked, tilting his head.

Dandelion groaned. “What- ah- what color- was the toy?”

“Purple.”

“Oh gods.”

Geralt studied him with a frown. “Is that bad?” he asked worriedly.

“I like this one,” Dandelion mumbled breathlessly.

Geralt nodded, pleased that he’d not accidentally upset his partner. Then he stood and turned his back on Dandelion, picking up the discarded tools that he’d set aside when Dandelion burst through the wall. As the singer watched in horror, he started patching up the smaller holes in the wall, left over from nails and screws (and a few from a fist fight he’d once had with Eskel).

“Oh my god,” Dandelion gasped. “Geralt you aren’t actually going to- Geralt!”

“I said I’d get you out in a few minutes, Dandelion,” he said. “I’m certain you can entertain yourself until then.”

#series: Witcher in Quarantine #jaskier #dandelion #geralt #geralt of rivia #Witcher Fanfiction #Witcher Fanfic #The Witcher #Wiedźmin #My Writing

[thearvariblues]

The Bard And The Wolf - Chapter One

(AKA Geraskier in the Metal Band AU you didn’t know you needed)

The fic you may have already met on AO3, but now I’ve decided to start posting it on my Tumblr, too, in hopes that more people could find it that way, and maybe even enjoy it. :)

The masterpost for this fic can be found HERE.

1 - Endings And Beginnings

“Kaer Morhen are a bunch of morons, that’s all I’m saying,” said Jaskier, running his fingers through his brown hair to make it more artistically ruffled.

“Yes, Jaskier. We know,” Dave, the guitarist, growled and rolled his eyes.

“But you know which one of them is the worst?”

“Do tell,” Dave sighed.

“That lead singer of theirs, of course,” Jaskier smirked. “Geralt of Rivia. The Witcher. The White Wolf. Honey, how many nicknames do you need? You’re in a fucking metal band, dear heart, this is not some kind of a larp!”

Mike, the drummer, raised his hand.

“Is that why you call yourself The Bard?”

“That’s… Yeah, that isn’t any different,” Jaskier sighed. “Fuck. I just wish they weren’t so damn good.”

“They’re pretty good, yeah,” Dave agreed.

“More like we’re pretty shit,” Mike said.

“Oh, come on, guys. We’re not shit. We just… Need to find ourselves, that’s all. Actually, I have a few songs I think you might like, just here, in my...”

“I don’t think that will be necessary, Julian,” Dave said, just the second someone knocked at the door of their rehearsal room.

“Jaskier,” he said automatically, turning his head to see who the newcomer was. He blinked. “And what exactly is this bitch doing here?”

“Yeah, we wanted to tell you before he comes, but… never mind,” Dave shrugged. “We know we’re not shit, Julian. You’re shit. So… This is our new singer.”

Jaskier blinked, several times, his brain doing its very best to process what was happening here. He was sure he must have misheard, because surely Dave didn’t just say that…

“Valdo Marx,” he growled. “You fire me and hire fucking Valdo Marx as your lead singer?!”

“Basically,” Mike nodded. “Sorry, Jules.”

“You can’t do this,” Jaskier said, though the argument sounded weak even to his own ears. “Dandelions are my band. Mine.”

“Were,” the newcomer said. Jaskier took a proper look at him. The bitch had blonde hair, styled basically the same as himself, bright green eyes, tight black pants and a silk shirt with its top buttons undone, just as Jaskier wore it… He even copied the goddamn eyeliner.

“You gotta be kidding me,” Jaskier said. He felt his voice begin to tremble.

“We’re not,” Dave said. “Really sorry, Julian.”

“Yeah, sorry, not sorry, Julian,” Valdo smirked. “Don’t let the door hit you on your way out.”

Tears welled up in Jaskier’s eyes. No, this won’t do. He won’t let them see him cry. Also, artfully smudged eyeliner was fine, but tear-smudged? He won’t be caught dead with tear-smudged eyeliner.

So he grabbed his bag and his guitar and got to his feet.

“Yeah, right. As you wish, fuckers,” he growled. “See you never.”

He had to pass Valdo on his way out and it took all his willpower not to punch the son of a bitch in his ugly, smirking face.

He wasn’t even out of the building yet when the tears began to spill.

*

He wasn’t sure where he was going. He was just walking. When he was walking, the sadness wasn’t so bad. He was afraid to stop, because he was pretty sure that if he did, he would surely fall apart. That was also the reason why he didn’t just go home, no matter how much he wanted to.

He didn’t want to have to process the fact that he had been kicked out of his band just like that. His. The band he put together, the band he wrote lyrics and music for, the band that he had kept together for the past two years. And then those bitches decide that he’s not worth their time anymore?!

Maybe he should have tried more. He should have told them they were welcome to have their own band without him, but he shouldn’t have let him used the name, Dandelions, the name he himself chose…

He was forced to stop dead in his tracks when a door he was just about to pass got thrown open and a dark-haired woman stormed out, followed by a tall and muscular white-haired man dressed all in black.

Jaskier gulped, because while he didn’t immediately recognize the woman (mainly because she was busy stomping towards a nearby car), he would recognize the man anywhere.

Geralt of Rivia. The Witcher. And the lead singer of Kaer Morhen, the very band Jaskier had dramatically proclaimed his rivals.

Which meant that the woman had to be…

“Yennefer,” Geralt sighed. “Come on.”

“No. I’m, done,” she said, opening the car door. “I’ve heard enough. Either you get Lambert and Renfri under control, or I’m out of here. I won’t be called a witch–”

“They didn’t mean it like that and you know it.”

“Neither will I be called a bitch, Geralt, and they definitely meant that!” she growled. “It’s your decision. Me, or them?”

Silence fell for a few seconds. Geralt stared at the woman, she stared back at him. Finally, she cocked up an eyebrow and he crossed his arms over his chest in a defensive manner.

“Oh. You mean I should decide now?” he asked.

She chuckled in a way that made it clear that she was desperately trying not to rip his head off.

“You know what? Go to hell, Geralt. Keep your merry band. I’m out. Good luck finding a new singer, you bitch.”

With that, she got in her car and slammed the door shut.

“Fuck,” Geralt muttered and turned back to the building, just as Yennefer drove off. He stopped and blinked when he saw Jaskier standing there, his mouth agape.

“Uhm,” Jaskier managed. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to… watch that. I just… nearly got hit by that door, and before I realized what was happening, she was already yelling at you and… sorry. Leaving now. Sorry. Really sorry. I’m already gone, see?”

“Wait,” Geralt said, his voice deep and husky. “You’re the singer from Dandelions, aren’t you? That… bard.”

“The Bard,” Jaskier corrected before he could think better of it.

“Yeah. Jaskier, isn’t it?” the White Wolf smirked, and Jaskier could feel his heart flutter. Christ. The guy knew his name?

“That’s me,” he said as casually as he could manage. “But you’re wrong about the Dandelions thing. I’m the… former… singer. I’ve just been kicked out.”

“Wow. Sucks,” said a voice from the door. Jaskier turned his head to see a young woman standing there. She had dark, wavy hair that barely reached her shoulders, and her face was almost too cute for a metal band. “You look like you need a drink, buttercup. Where’s our witch, Geralt?”

“Gone,” Geralt smirked. “Did you really have to call her a bitch, Renfri?”

“That wasn’t me, but Lambert. I only call her a witch,” she protested. “Are you going to invite this kicked puppy in, or are you waiting for him to break down?”

“Oh, no, no, I...” Jaskier swallowed and tried to blink back the tears. “I really should be going. Sorry about the whole… witnessing this. Nice to meet you, I guess. I… okay, I really should be shutting up. See you around.”

“Wait. Bard,” said Geralt’s husky voice and Jaskier’s legs refused to cooperate. “Come in and have a drink with us. You really look like you need it.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do, actually.”

And he did.

Was he really gonna have the aforementioned drink with the members of Kaer Morhen, though?

Apparently.

Why?

Damned if he knew.

Before he could change his mind, he took a deep breath and followed Renfri and Geralt into the building.

*

Oh, dear, this was a bad idea, he thought when he stepped into the rehearsal room and all the eyes turned to him.

“Geralt?” said a tall, long-haired man who was sprawled on one of the sofas in the room. “Hate to tell you this, but if your ex didn’t suddenly change her sex, you might have grabbed the wrong person outside.”

A very, very bad idea. What were you thinking, stupid, stupid–

“Jaskier!” a girl’s voice squeaked. “Oh my god, that’s Jaskier! From Dandelions!”

“I probably failed to mention,” Geralt, who was standing next to Jaskier, smirked, “that my daughter, who just happens to be here, adores your music.”

“Wow. Thanks,” Jaskier muttered. “So you didn’t invite me for a drink, but just to show me off to your daughter?”

“Both, actually,” Geralt shrugged and turned to a young blonde (seriously, she could be barely fifteen) standing in front of them with her bright eyes wide, clearly unsure what she should do. “Jaskier, this is Ciri. Ciri… Well, you know who this is.”

“Yes. Jaskier,” she repeated, and he was starting to feel a little better, because at least someone in this world apparently liked him. “From–”

“Formerly. Sorry. I’ve just been kicked out,” he blurted before he could think better of it. Only when he saw her eyes going impossibly wider did he realize his mistake.

“Dandelions are a bunch of dicks,” Renfri said, handing him a glass of bright golden liquid. “Don’t look at me like that, Geralt, Ciri’s heard worse.”

“Besides, it’s true. They are a bunch of dicks,” Jaskier said, accepting the glass and downing the contents in a single gulp. That was his second mistake in the last few seconds, because his throat immediately started to feel like it was on fire. “Holy flipping...” he croaked. “Oh, dear, this is gonna put even more hair on my chest. Wow. What the hell was that?!”

“Rule number one, never ask Renfri what is the drink she just gave you. Trust me, you don’t wanna know,” the last man in the room laughed.

“Shut it, Eskel,” Renfri said. “It’s perfectly safe.”

“I’m sorry, my hangover from yesterday begs to differ,” said the tall man on the sofa.

“And you too, Lambert,” Renfri growled. “I didn’t force half a bottle down your throat, you–”

“Enough,” Geralt said, and the room went quiet. “Cirilla, stop gaping. Jaskier, sit down. In fact, everyone, sit down.”

“Uhm, thanks,” Jaskier muttered. “But I probably should be going. I mean...”

“Sit,” Geralt repeated. “Renfri, another drink. Cirilla, what have I just told you?”

“How… They can’t just kick you out!” Ciri exclaimed. “It’s your band!”

“Was,” Jaskier shrugged, deciding to claim a nearby chair. He was really starting to regret ever coming here. He really didn’t want to have to explain, but this girl was looking at him with those big, sorrowful eyes… “They thought I was shit. So now… It’s Valdo Marx’s band.”

“Valdo Marx?” Renfri said. “Isn’t that the ass who was following us around last month, dressed all in black, trying to convince us he’s better than Geralt?”

“Yeah, I think that’s him,” Lambert agreed. “Shame he’s taken. We could have slapped a wig on his head and pretended he’s Yennefer. Uhm, where is our lovely queen, by the way? Waiting for you to come running after her, as usual?”

“I don’t think so. It seemed she really meant it when she said she was leaving for good,” Geralt sighed.

“You know mother’s always dramatic,” Ciri said and sat down in a chair next to Jaskier’s. “She’ll be back before we know it. Or we can slap a wig on Jaskier here and pretend it’s her.”

“Oh, dear heart, I don’t think I’m pretty enough to pull that off,” Jaskier laughed. He was still feeling like shit, but he was kind of glad for this distraction. Besides, the thought of Valdo Marx in a long wig was just hilarious. And the booze was great. He didn’t know how, but he was already on his fourth glass.

“Besides, if she’s not coming back, we need someone who can sing things like… like… Song of the White Wolf,” Eskel said.

It was the alcohol. It had to be the alcohol. There was no other logical explanation of why Jaskier cleared his throat, took a deep breath and began to sing a song he’d only ever sung in the privacy of his shower.

“The call of the White Wolf is loudest at the dawn… The call of a stone heart is broken and alone… Born of Kaer Morhen… Born of No Love… The song of the White Wolf is cold as driven snow...”

He realized the room had went completely silent, so he shut up and opened the eyes he didn’t even remember closing. Everyone was staring at him. Especially Ciri. And her father.

“Well,” Eskel said. “I meant a chick. But this was good. If we ever need someone to replace Geralt...”

“You won’t replace me with him,” Geralt argued. “I’m the growl. This is a clean vocal. Damned good clean vocal, too. But as you said, even if Yennefer isn’t coming back, we need a female singer.”

“Shame,” Ciri said. “I’d really like to hear you sing a duet with dad.”

“Honey, I’m afraid I’m really not the right singer for a metal band,” Jaskier laughed. “The best I can do is sing you The Fishmonger’s Daughter.”

Ciri’s whole face lit up like a candle at that.

“You can?” she asked, her eyes immediately going to her father for confirmation.

“Uhm, I mean,” Jaskier said as he felt blood rushing to his face. “I shouldn’t, it’s not a song for, uhm, young listeners...”

“Don’t worry about it. She knows the terrible thing by heart,” Geralt chuckled. “Just sing. We’ll survive. Your voice isn’t the worst thing that can happen to us today.”

“Definitely better than Valdo Marx,” Renfri chuckled.

“I certainly hope so,” Jaskier said, looking around. “Right, in that case, I need my lovely guitar...”

*

A few days later, Jaskier had almost forgotten all about this little encounter. He spent the afternoon with Kaer Morhen (and Ciri), sang them a few funny songs and left, his legs only slightly unsteady.

He thought nothing of it. But then there came the call from an unknown number.

“Jaskier,” he said when he answered.

“Hello,” said the voice from the phone. “This is Geralt. From Kaer Morhen,” the voice added. As if Jaskier needed that clarification. As if he didn’t recognize him just from the Hello.

“Oh. Fuck,” Jaskier swore helpfully. “I mean… Hi. How can I help you? If there’s any lasting damage to your daughter’s mental health caused by my songs, I would like to remind you that I definitely told you they weren’t–”

“You’re in.”

“Ex…cuse me?”

“Yennefer refuses to come back. That means we need a clean vocalist.”

“Yes. Uhm. I’m not sure if you noticed, but I’m definitely not female. And that whole thing with a wig won’t work, I mean, I would need like three razors only to shave my chest, don’t get me started about my legs...”

“We’ve changed our mind. We don’t want a female singer. We want you.”

“You have got to be kidding me,” Jaskier muttered. “How… How did you even get my number?”

“From a fan you slept with.”

“Yeah, that narrows it down.”

Geralt chuckled.

“Look, I’m giving you this chance because Ciri and Renfri have been nagging me for days now, and because we… we all think you are really good. And we would like to try and play a few songs with you, for a start, and then… then we’ll see what happens.”

“My god,” Jaskier sighed. “You are serious, aren’t you?”

“Dead serious,” Geralt agreed. “By the way, remember that Battle of the Bands that happens in two months? The one that Dandelions are participating in?”

“The one for the record contract?”

“That one,” Geralt said. “I just want you to know Kaer Morhen are also taking part in it. So if you want a chance to kick Valdo Marx’s ass...”

Jaskier’s breath hitched in his throat. He could almost feel Geralt smiling at the other end of the line. That goddamned Wolf was playing him like a lute, and Jaskier couldn’t bring himself to mind.

“I’m in,” he said.

He heard a girl squeal somewhere near Geralt, and the Wolf let out a tiny laugh.

“Our rehearsal room, tonight at seven. Does that work for you, or do you have a date with some other fan?”

“Only with Netflix and a bottle of wine, and I can definitely reschedule that,” Jaskier said. “I’ll be there.”

“Good,” Geralt said. “We’ll be looking forward to seeing you.”

And Jaskier’s heart definitely didn’t flutter when he heard those words…

*

Five minutes later, Jaskier decided to finally do a thing he had been putting off for days and opened his Instagram. He knew it was flooded with questions about him apparently throwing Dandelions under a bus and deciding, quite suddenly, to leave. He found that out when he accidentally opened the app once, just after leaving Kaer Morhen’s rehearsal room, and saw about twenty messages and comments. And that was only a start. Two hours later he was forced to turn the notifications off.

The Dandelions were really quick getting the news out, he had to give them that.

He opened the app, ignored all the messages and went straight to adding a new photo. He knew exactly what he wanted to post. He’d been thinking about it for days.

There was a photo in his phone he was really proud of – a dandelion going to seed. He’s taken the photo that spring. The angle was perfect, the lighting was perfect, everything was just perfect, but back then, the picture seemed too depressing to post. But right now, it was… Well, perfect.

So he used a black-and-white filter and took a deep breath before he started to type a comment.

Hello, my darlings. As many of you already know, I parted ways with Dandelions – well, in fact, it was the other way around and it were Dandelions who parted ways with me. I won’t give any details, so don’t even bother asking. But don’t worry. Because when a dandelion goes out of bloom, it releases seeds that can take root… well, anywhere. What I want to say – this isn’t the end of my story, quite the opposite. And I’m already taking root, dear hearts. And trust me – if it works out, it’s going to be BIG!

#dandelions #newbeginnings #justwaitforit

Continue with Chapter Two

#geraskier #geraskier fic #witcher fic #geralt x jaskier #my fics #the bard and the wolf

[ficsandcatsandficsandcats]

Telling Valdo Marx that Jaskier's music might be better than his, resulting in smutty times

Fandom: The WitcherPairing: Valdo x ReaderWord Count: 1,730Rating: ETaglist: @heroics-and-heartbreak @whatevermonkey @mynamesoundslikesherlock @magic-multicolored-miracle @writingstudent @mlleecrivaine @coffee-and-stories @ultracolorfulnerdcollection  a/n: I tried my best nonny. This is my first Valdo Marx smut piece and I kinda tried to do a Feral!Valdo thing here but I also really wanted to make sure he had his own Style of Smut. I dunno, this has been an attempt. Hope you like it and please know that @heroics-and-heartbreak is an aces Valdo content creator as is @the-novel-on-the-left if you’re left wanting by this one

“What did you just say?”

You looked up from your cup of ale, wiping away the foam from your upper lip as you met Valdo’s eyes. The usually bright, twinkling emerald eyes glowered at you darkly and you sighed.

“I said Jaskier is playing exceptionally well tonight,” you said defiantly, daring Valdo to challenge you on this with a look that would have turned away a wiser man. Valdo was many things, but wise wasn’t one of them.

“How can you call this prattle good, let alone exceptional?” he snarked.

“You don’t have to like someone to acknowledge their talent,” you argued.

“Oh, is there talent around here?” Valdo asked, making a big show of looking around the room while you glared at him, “Present company excluded, of course.”

This was a fight you’d had before. Jaskier was a longtime friend of yours and when you began seeing Valdo you had hoped the men might put aside their differences to some extent. There were some things even the deepest love could not make happen it seemed. You rose from the table and sent Valdo a parting shot.

“You’re just bitter because he’s a better bard than you are.”

You didn’t wait to see his reaction, turning swiftly on your heel and sending Jaskier a parting wave as you made your way to your room. You’d half expected Valdo to run after you but you were able to get inside and shut the door behind you. You’d just pulled off your boots, still fuming but a little bit regretful of the cheap shot you’d thrown, when the door flew open. His nimble fingers dug into his emerald silk cravat and tore it away, exposing the graceful length of his neck. He threw it to the ground and went to work on the tiny, intricate buttons of his doublet, bottle green eyes darkening with anger or lust or some exciting blend of both as he looked at you.

“So,” he said, “He’s a better bard than me, is he?”

You sighed, not in the mood for another fight.

“Ok, that was maybe a bit of an exaggeration-”

“Exaggeration?” Valdo echoed with a scoff, neatly folding the doublet and resting it on the little bureau before pulling off his boots.

“I’m not going to say that Jaskier isn’t a good bard, Valdo, so if you came here to try and get me to do it you may as well just leave now,” you said, turning around and angrily tugging at the laces of your dress. You half expected to hear the door open and slam shut but instead there was just the sound of fabric rustling and then footsteps padding across the wooden floor until you felt Valdo’s dexterous fingers take the laces from your hands and disrobe you with grace and efficiency. He turned you to face him, eyes scanning your body possessively before recapturing your gaze for a moment before yours fell to his lithe frame. He was lean and toned and brought to mind memories of nights where his agility had awed you. He licked his lips and drew your attention back to his eyes.

“I’m going to wash his name out of your mouth,” he growled darkly, “The only name on your lips tonight will be mine. I’m going to make you scream it, moan it, and whimper it before the night is through. I am going to use you so thoroughly that when you fall asleep there will be no thought in your head but me and my many, many talents.”

“Is that a promise?” you asked, swallowing hard and trying to sound defiant and immovable though his words alone made you embarrassingly wet. He lowered a hand, roughly parting your legs and brushing against you deftly, pulling a strangled moan from your lips that made him smile smugly.

“Already so eager,” he teased, his voice a low purr against your ear as his lips brushed against your jawline. The dark curls of his hair tickled your neck and he slowly walked you back towards the bed. The back of your legs hit the frame and he nudged you back. You bounced as you landed and he threw himself down next to you, a quick, playful smile that turned wolfish as he crawled towards you.

“Since you have made yourself the arbiter of bardic talent, you’re going to sing for me tonight. The moment you stop singing, I stop too,” he said.

“Stop doing what?” you asked.

“Whatever I want,” he replied briskly, seizing you by the ankle and pulling you under him, lean body pressing against yours.

“I’m not a bard,” you argued.

“No, but you can still sing, can’t you love?” he kissed the question against your collar bones. His hand ran the length of your body, touching you everywhere but where you wanted him the most.

“Ok,” you said, hoping your agreement would lead to some satisfaction, “What should I sing?”

“Don’t care,” he replied, suddenly thinking better of it, afraid you’d choose one of Jaskier’s songs just to taunt him, “Sing me a bawdy tale about a naughty little bitch who thought it was fun to test her lover.”

He began to kiss his way down your body and you watched the slow progression, the way that he looked at your body as he kissed it, reverent even while enraged. He paused at your navel and looked up at you, the keen, forest hued eyes watching you expectantly as you remembered the game.

“Oh there w-ohh”

Your words melted immediately as Valdo rested his tongue flat against your mound. As promised, he pulled back and fixed you with an annoyed look, as irritated at being interrupted as you were at him moving back.

“Going to do better than that, love, or we’ll be here all night,” he teased. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes, hoping that losing the image of him between your legs would help keep you focused on your song. You fared a bit better, letting him get so far as to stroke your length a few times with his agile tongue before your words bled away again. He stopped what he was doing but didn’t move this time, enjoying the way you tried to grind against his face, nose barely brushing your clit. You sang in fits and starts and he grew to enjoy the game as much as you hated it, your frustration satisfying the vengeful part of him who wanted you to suffer as he had when you’d expressed a preference for his rival. He kept you teetering on the edge of release, slowly circling your swollen, tender nub as he inserted two long, dexterous fingers that knew exactly where to probe.

“I can either sing for you or I can come for you but I can’t do both,” you spat out angrily after the fourth, agonizing edging.

“Oh, you’ll do both,” he growled, “You’ll sing my name loud enough for everyone in this fucking inn to know who’s making you feel this way.”

Before you could speak again he began to stroke you in earnest and you forced your moans into melodies, his name an aria on your tongue as you came for him. His own moans of satisfaction at your pleasure were muffled by the sound and before you’d finished the note he flipped you over and aligned his slender cock at your entrance.

“You sang so sweetly for me, my filthy little songbird. Something new, now. Something a little less bawdy and a little more… epic,” he suggested, teasing you with the head and leaning back out of reach as you tried to arch into him.

“Epic?” you echoed questioningly.

“Yes, perhaps an operetta? Show the people you’ve got the range,” his sentence ended in little grow that sent a tremor up your spine and he punctuated it with a swat before seizing a handful of your ass, kneading the flesh beneath his fingers and opening you wider as he stared at you lewdly. You did as asked and even managed to keep the notes going as he entered you in one quick thrust. He fucked you in pace with the song you sang, following the ebbs and rises of the notes in a way that made you laugh at times and you could’ve sworn you heard him giggle as well though he tried to act stern, taking a handful of your hair and using it to pull your face back to look at him.

“Sing,” he commanded before releasing you, and you sang for him. You grew more adept at turning your cries into crescendos and whimpers into wordless riffing that he seemed to accept as long as there was a tune to it. His thrusts grew punishing, digging into you deeply and grazing the spot that would be your undoing. Your song began to crack, your song devolving into sounds a broken music box might make, but he didn’t ask for talent, just obedience. You began to whimper his name as you neared your release, a pleading sound made in a repetitive rhyme that was music to Valdo’s ears. You’d hoped that his name would be lyric enough and he showed you mercy, not stopping as you cried out his name the final time, surely notifying everyone around you outside and inside the inn what was happening and who was causing it. Valdo rode you through your climax into his own, leaning over to bite the back of your shoulder as he did, one final, possessive act for the night. He kissed the spot before pulling out of you and pulled you into his arms.

“Now,” he said, panting from exertion as he tried to regain his breath, “You were saying something about talented bards.”

You chuckled and raised your eyes to look into his once more, already starting to fall asleep as you planted a kiss on his lips.

“Valdo Marx, Bard of Cintra, is my most favorite, most talented music teacher and bard I have ever known. Unless saying the contrary will get me more of what just happened in which case…”

“Don’t push your luck,” he growled, kissing your fiercely and then pulled you against him so the last thing you heard before falling asleep was his heartbeat and the sound of his voice, humming a wordless tune.

#Anonymous #Valdo Marx x Reader #Valdo x Reader #Valdo Smut #Valdo imagines #reader request

[bhissar]

the post nobody asked for

Me shipping my own PCs with one another.

See under the cut for the content.

LET’S BEGIN.

—

THE ABSOLUTE NOS

Xerxes/Daecyne, Xerxes/Saela, Xerxes/Timeless, Xerxes/Perseus, Xerxes/Laurel, Xerxes/Lorren

EXPLANATIONS:

Daecyne, Saela, Timeless, Perseus, and Laurel are all lesbians and Xerxes is a man.

Lorren is Xerxes’ mom.

All self explanatory, pretty much.

—

THE INCOMPATIBLES

Lorren/Magnolia, Sapheira/Daecyne, Saela/Daecyne, Saela/Ariel, Laurel/Brysth

EXPLANATIONS:

Lorren/Magnolia: Different goals in life. Lorren would not be able to respect the way Magnolia conducts relationships. Plus, Lorren is a package deal with kiddos, and Magnolia is not about that life. She wants epic romance and the moment a 10 year old asks for her to make a snack she is out the fucking door. The only “child” in her life is her younger brother, and he’s 23 so not so much the child anymore.

Sapheira/Daecyne: Incompatible goals. Sapheira is selfish while Daecyne is selfless. The thing that is a punishment to Daecyne is life for Sapheira — Daecyne is bloodthirsty because a god cursed her. Sapheira is bloodthirsty because that is who she is. They would not get along for long and it would likely get toxic if they were forced to stay together too too long.

Saela/Daecyne: Conflict of outlooks on life. They would be fine at arm’s length, but things would quickly get very very difficult if they tried any sort of commitment. They have different ideas about what life looks like, and how helping their friends works. They’d get frustrated by what the other deems as support, and would likely fall into bad habits easily.

Saela/Ariel: Saela has a brand of selflessness Ariel hates. Ariel has a brand of selfishness Saela has no interest in. They are both selfish, to a degree, but Saela is selfish in that she believes she can do the best by others. Ariel believes she can do best by herself. Also, the magic arguments would get bad quick. Saela is a quiet bird but Ariel would know the right buttons to push in a bad, bad way.

Laurel/Brysth: They were in the same adventuring party and Brysth is in love with Kairon and Laurel saw his dick once. They can’t move past that even if they are very good friends.

—

THE I DONT THINK SO BUT EHS?

Brysth/Magnolia, Brysth/Saela, Brysth/Sapheira, Brysth/Xerxes, Xerxes/Ariel, Perseus/Saela, Perseus/Timeless, Lorren/Ariel, Lorren/Sapheira, Sapheira/Timeless, Cylthia/Ariel, Ariel/Daecyne, Saela/Magnolia, Magnolia/Daecyne

EXPLANATIONS:

Brysth/Magnolia, Saela/Magnolia, Magnolia/Daecyne: These are all because of who Magnolia is as a person. The thing is, that while she is a hopeless romantic to a degree, she is also someone who is very guarded. Her magic, and more importantly her life, are more important to her than anyone else. The thing is that she will not be prioritizing somebody else, and Brysth and Saela and Daecyne all need a certain amount of attention to form a relationship that Magnolia is not willing to give without first building trust, and she is just…not about that life right now. Nothing personal, tender anxiety ladies, but Magnolia needs high romance or a quick stress reliever.

Brysth/Saela: Frankly? They just wouldn’t mix. They might be fine friends, but Brysth kind of has her preferred flavor of devotee to the Raven Queen. Saela is a bit too intense for her. She is much more about the balance of life and death, and Saela seems a little too focused on the death for her. On the flip side, Saela probably wouldn’t feel she was being taken seriously enough. Again! Not Brysth’s fault! Just not something that could work long term for the two of them.

Brysth/Sapheira: Once again just not mixing. They have different goals in life and different goals in relationships. Sapheira is not really about commitment, at least not up front, and Brysth is much happier with someone being ready to stay with her in a way that Sapheira can’t.

Sapheira/Timeless: Same as above!

Brysth/Xerxes: Surface level would be fine, but their romantic interests in their party would kind of make their relationship not of interest to either. In another setting? Sure, it could work. But someone dating Kairon and someone dating Osfyr just are naturally not going to be drawn together romantically.

Xerxes/Ariel: He’s Robin Hood and she’s the type of person to hide their moneybags when Robin Hood is in town. The thing is, they might get along personality-wise. But Xerxes is literally the guy who takes down nobles a few pegs just for the sake of it, and Ariel is trying to learn ancient magics specifically to impress her noble family. It’s just not going to work until Ariel gets some serious priorities straightened out.

Perseus/Saela: Saela is very much grounded, when it comes to her location and way she operates. Perseus is a free spirit, and specifically one that wants to take to the sea. Their lives would be going in different directions, though if they met and had a reason to bond? There would definitely be a maybe in both of their heads.

Perseus/Timeless: Timeless would probably eventually get her heart broken. Not because Perseus meant to, but Timeless falls in love hard and fast. Perseus needs a particular type to fall in love, and Timeless is a little too lawful for her. She needs freedom, and Timeless can’t give that to her. So it would end in heartbreak.

Lorren/Ariel: Lorren is very down to earth and has very hard morals. Ariel…not so much. She prioritizes herself more than Lorren could really stand. She wants a reciprocity Ariel would never be able to provide her.

Lorren/Sapheira: Same as Lorren/Ariel, really!

Cylthia/Ariel: Different ideas of chaos, different ideas of life. They both want to fit in, but how they want to fit in is so different that they clash. Plus, Cylthia likes fun. Ariel likes studying all day bc it helps her be a better wizard. The two of them would argue enough that any relationship would not work out.

Ariel/Daecyne: Ariel would end up hurting Daecyne, and Daecyne would likely get upset over things, and have to leave. They’d end up hurt and not happy together, so better just not to start. Though maybe they’d teach each other something as friends.

—

THE SPECIFICALLY FUCKBUDDIES

Magnolia/Laurel, Magnolia/Perseus, Magnolia/Sapheira, Ariel/Perseus, Ariel/Sapheira, Cylthia/Sapheira, Sapheira/Xerxes, Sapheira/Perseus

EXPLANATIONS:

Magnolia/Laurel: They both enjoy a good romp and don’t particularly find interest in romantic attachments to one another. They wouldn’t make for a great partnership, but they would be great FWBs.

Magnolia/Perseus: Two ships, passing on the sea, giving great head.

Magnolia/Sapheira: Horny bard meets drunk barbarian and they’re both VERY sexy half elves. Sapheira would be a perfect fit for Magnolia’s not-yet-finding-her-romance-but-wanting-fun attitude.

Ariel/Perseus: Just callous enough and having enough fun fucking that they wouldn’t feel the need to do anything more. They both live lives where they’d be satisfied with it.

Ariel/Sapheira: I mean. Both of their content so far? Basically. They’d have fun, and not think about one another far after.

Cylthia/Sapheira: Cylthia enjoys good fun, and Sapheira is horny. There’s not much more to be said for this section.

Sapheira/Xerxes: They’re both bisexual dumbasses with a soft spot for someone who challenges them. Also they are both very good at what they do.

Sapheira/Perseus: Basically combine their above parts.

—

THE THIS WORKS

Brysth/Daecyne, Brysth/Ariel, Brysth/Cylthia, Brysth/Perseus, Perseus/Laurel, Laurel/Saela, Laurel/Ariel, Laurel/Timeless, Laurel/Sapheira, Xerxes/Magnolia, Xerxes/Cylthia, Perseus/Daecyne, Perseus/Cylthia, Perseus/Lorren, Lorren/Cylthia, Timeless/Daecyne, Timeless/Magnolia, Timeless/Saela, Timeless/Ariel, Cylthia/Daecyne, Cylthia/Magnolia

EXPLANATIONS:

Brysth/Daecyne: Love of nature, love of life, the biggest difference between them is experience. They’d both be happy together, but might want for more? So I don’t know if they’d be happy long term. They would be happy together, certainly, but I don’t think this is the best setup for either of them.

Brysth/Ariel: They challenge each other, in a good way! They both have a deep appreciation for the world and its knowledge, and Ariel would find Brysth a refreshing change of pace from the world at large. On the other hand, Brysth would challenge Ariel’s perceptions, and in the long term they’d be a lot happier together than either alone. Plus, they’d be very cute.

Brysth/Cylthia: Nature! Girls! They’d have a good time together, and Cylthia would find Brysth nice and refreshing. Brysth would be in awe of Cylthia’s power; who doesn’t want a beautiful, powerful, fire wife? They’d be happy druids together.

Brysth/Perseus: Percy’s natural inclination to wandering wouldn’t bother Brysth. Frankly, she likes the idea of traveling to far-off places. They’d be happy together, tbh? Not their perfect relationships, but being on the sea would give them both freedom they’re excited for.

Perseus/Laurel: WAN. DER. LUST. They’d be great adventuring companions and a good romance is something the both of them desire. So, they’d see the world and feel at peace in their travels.

Laurel/Saela: Trauma girls! They both have some pretty severe issues with undead, and their goals would align in a way that would satisfy the both of them. If they got a good therapist, they could be really happy together being adherent to their respective gods and being childless lesbians. (Note: Laurel is fine with having kids but has no specific desire to, and Saela doesn’t think she’d be a good parent. They’re great lesbian aunts.)

Laurel/Ariel: They would challenge each other in the way that would give one another fantastic growth. Laurel wouldn’t put up with Ariel being an ass, and Ariel wouldn’t put up with Laurel being creepy and mysterious. Plus, the both of them don’t really like intense emotions, and so they’d be comfortable with one another most of the time without feeling the need for intense emotional sessions that drain them both.

Laurel/Timeless: Laurel has two types: soft girl and person who could kick their ass. Timeless manages to fall into both. Presuming they were equal levels, Laurel and Timeless would both impress one another, and their faiths would likely bind them rather than divide them. Plus, Laurel appreciates someone down-to-earth and Timeless is about as bolted to the ground as you can get without a mortgage.

Laurel/Sapheira: Sapheira is? Almost exactly Laurel’s type. Disaster martial fighter who is chronically trying to escape reality and also fucks like a champion. Laurel is someone Sapheira would find fascinating! Laurel is just the right amount of mysterious, just the right amount of fun, and just the right amount of mischevious. They’d have a good time, although this is another pair where they probably need therapy before they can be serious about any kind of relationship.

Xerxes/Magnolia: They’re both very chaotic and full of wanderlust. In the end they want to help people, but not at their own expense. The beauty of the world is its own reward! The two of them would get along great, and also they both would find one another very attractive.

Xerxes/Cylthia: They are chaotic good people! Cylthia’s question mark sexuality aside, Xerxes would LOVE Cylthia’s pyromania (as long as it didn’t hurt innocent people) and Cylthia would find great purpose in Xerxes desire to preserve culture but bring equality despite it. They’d make for a great dynamic duo, though Cylthia would have to contend with all of Xerxes’ siblings and his parents before she could really commit to it.

Perseus/Daecyne: Percy’s type is literally powerful but anxious druids, so she would definitely love Daecyne. Daecyne would love being swept up off her feet by someone who understands her in a way that Percy could.

Perseus/Cylthia: Percy would be SUCH a gayass for Cylthia. Cylthia loves the fucking pirate aesthetic. They have the blue/red dichotomy going on. They are chaotic! They would be fun, if not their best emotional fulfillment they could get. They’d be happy!!

Perseus/Lorren: Percy kind of likes getting her ass kicked. Lorren would be endeared. Also, Percy would love to live the life of being a sugar baby for a rich and famous milf. Yes, I did type that. They would be a great pair but it would be more of a thing of convenience, not any intense passion.

Lorren/Cylthia: They’re both very famous adventurers and they’re both wow who want to be good people. The two of them would be very happy being powerful, though I think they would do better together on the move. If they were stationary too long they might find themselves wanting something else, at no fault of one another’s.

Timeless/Daecyne, Timeless/Saela: Soft anxiety girls who just want to belong! Finding belonging with one another would be good. They’d be good.

Timeless/Magnolia: Magnolia’s true romance? She could find it with Timeless. The two of them could settle together. I don’t know if Magnolia is Timeless’ perfect other half, but they would be happy together. And they would make some kind of a life, provided Magnolia didn’t have to be on the run.

Timeless/Ariel: Timeless is serious enough that Ariel would have to take her seriously, and Timeless would help Ariel with what she needs. They could be happy together as long as they were both willing to work.

Cylthia/Daecyne: Cylthia is what Daecyne could be, and Daecyne is what Cylthia could be. They’d see their ideals one one another and it would make them both happy to be together and build a life and relationship together. They both can cast alter self literally constantly, so that would lead to some comedic thoughts of cheating in whatever town they lived in.

Cylthia/Magnolia: They’re both the right amount of chaotic that adventuring together would be very fun for them. Also, Cylthia would love Magnolia’s music. Magnolia would find Cylthia’s magic openness inspiring.

—

THE “MOM”S

Lorren/Daecyne, Lorren/Saela, Lorren/Timeless, Saela/Cylthia

EXPLANATIONS:

Lorren/Daecyne, Lorren/Saela, Lorren/Timeless: Lorren would see any of these girls and adopt them. They are anxiety-ridden and need support from a stable source. All of them had families ripped from them, support taken away. She needs to offer it to those she can, and all three of them would have it in her when they needed it.

Saela/Cylthia: See a girl, whose family was taken from her when she was young. See a woman, who left her family. See them see something in one another that they haven’t been able to truly see in themselves for a long, long time. They both need family, and I think they’d find it in one another.

—

THE OH THIS IS THE GOOD SHITS

Laurel/Daecyne, Brysth/Timeless, Brysth/Lorren, Laurel/Lorren, Laurel/Cylthia, Ariel/Magnolia

EXPLANATIONS:

Laurel/Daecyne: Laurel and Daecyne would truly find a home in one another! This is the good shit because Daecyne has the emotional vulnerability that Laurel needs and the feeling is reversed. They would reciprocate in a way that would make both of them very happy. With dealing with their emotional and traumatic histories, the two of them could likely find a perfect life together. I am a big believer in multiple soulmates, and Laurel could find one in Daecyne. Being controlled by others is something both of them have been hurt by and could relate over. Plus, they both have an enjoyment of fun that the other would deeply appreciate. They’d love one another, truly.

Brysth/Timeless: These are both people who know how to be devoted to something, and if they were about the same experience level when they met, that devotion could so easily be directed towards one another. To be loved by someone who knows what it means to give your heart away? It’s completely different than something either of them have ever been able to experience before. It’s what they both deserve and both want, and they could give it to one another on a completely other level. They’d also both be fascinated by one another’s magic, and adore the chance to share it with their partner.

Brysth/Lorren: Nature girls! But like, with an extra dose of devotion and being one another’s type. Brysth is a quiet and thoughtful druid whose primary goals include 1. helping others be free and themselves and 2. being extremely kind. Lorren is a bold but loving paladin whose primary goals include 1. helping others be who they want to be and 2. being a good mother. Together? They’re exactly what one another would be looking for, and they fit in the cracks that the other needs. Plus, they both have some pretty intense trauma about being trapped, and so they would be abler to relate to one another’s experiences without feeling limited by that being the only aspect of their relationship. Plus, Brysth loves kids, and they’re kind of a package deal with any Lorren.

Laurel/Lorren: Laurel really does deserve a kind and good MILF to take care of her. Laurel would see and respect Lorren’s power and experience, Lorren would see Laurel’s devotion and see it as a sign of her endurance. The two of them would take a long time to admit any feelings, but they’d be a bonded pair quickly. Besides, a rogue/paladin combo is deadly. As an adventuring duo, they’d be very famous for helping those that need help, and specifically going above and beyond to not take people’s money because their thanks is good enough. Also, this is a thought experiment in self-love via self-inserts.

Laurel/Cylthia: Not feeling accepted? Struggling to come to terms with powers and feelings that were not yours to choose, but instead thrust upon you by the circumstance of your existence? Hi, welcome to past-angst-working-on-happiness club. Laurel and Cylthia have very compatible personalities, with similar ideas both in fun and in goofing off. Laurel is a bit quieter but enjoys fun, while Cylthia is a little louder but still highly values the quiet moments. The parallels of sun and sea or sun and moon would be off the fucking charts, and fandom discussions of sexuality would be off the charts. But in seriousness? They would work for one another in a way neither of them would expect at first, and also probably start a revolution in a few places.

Ariel/Magnolia: Bastards who help one another be better? Both of them have always wanted freedom, but the freedom they want is different. Ariel wants the freedom to fulfill her duty her way, and Magnolia wants freedom from duty. Together they would encourage positive growth, if only because neither of them take the other’s shit. They’d have to be slow burn narrative foils, but eventually they’d find what they’re looking for in one another. Magnolia would see that having duty to someone other than herself isn’t the worst thing in the world, and could actually bring her great happiness if she opened herself up to it. Ariel would see that she can carve her own way even beyond not being a warrior like her family, but she doesn’t need to be an honor guard to be proud of herself. The two of them would help each other find their ideal happy medium, and they would be better people because of it. Also, they both deserve to let loose and could be very freaky with one another.

#brysth #laurel #xerxes #perseus #lorren #sapheira #timeless #cylthia #ariel #saela #magnolia #daecyne #ship post #theoretical #meta

[glitterslag]

Marsh Fever | Ben Hardy!Walter Hartright x reader |

Summary: For the entirety of your short marriage, Walter’s mind has been elsewhere. Tonight, you are determined to change that. 

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: language, bad smut (oral, unprotected sex, spanking with a belt), period typical attitudes towards sex, slight angst? Me trying to sound Victorian and failing 

A/N: It’s been a while since I wrote Walter and I missed him so I did this instead of answering out the tens of requests I have, you’re welcome xx P.S. its reader insert but there’s a teeny description of her face. Ignore it if you want. 

It was one of the rare evenings when Walter had not retired to his study as soon as the dinner was eaten. He sat across from you now, appearing rather stern in the firelight as he looked down at his book, his tall armchair casting a very long shadow up the wall. It had been dark since 4 o’clock.

He pinched at the bridge of his nose. Your husband was not old, but his eyesight was in decline. Unbeknownst to him, his obstinate refusal to wear spectacles only endeared him to you all the more, even if it did render him with the most terrible reading headaches.

Not expecting him to join you, you had been darning an old pair of bloomers when he had entered the room. You stuffed them hurriedly down into the side of the chair, busying yourself, instead, with your sewing hoop. Thankfully, Walter seemed not to notice anything amiss. To have your husband catch you mending holes in your tattered old undergarments would be an embarrassing affair to say the least.

Once in a while, ash would spew out from the fireplace and skitter onto the bare floorboards. That was the only sound to break the silence – that and the wind howling down the chimney, causing the flames to flicker and send shadows dancing across Walter’s face.

He still made you nervous. Every so often, your eyes would catch across the room and you’d feel it, bubbling up from the pit of your stomach. Lately, his gaze had been falling onto you more and more often.

“Talk to me, won’t you?” You spoke in a wavering voice; quite sure he would reject you.

“In a moment, dear.”

He didn’t even look up from the page.

You hated when he would call you that. Dear.

‘Dear’ was for weary mothers and overworked fathers. For old, married couples between whom passion no longer remains. You’d been married to Walter for six weeks.

You knew he didn’t love you when you were married. Why would he, you had reasoned. But there was something else, you saw that now, something other than plain unfamiliarity that kept him so distant from you. You were not stupid. But it still stung like chilblains every time he would retire to his study after dinner rather than spend time with you. Every time he’d look out of the window and his eyes would glaze over, and you knew he was thinking of her.

The other woman.

You didn’t know who she was, but you were willing to bet she was as fair as the moon, with cornflower blue eyes and flaxen hair and that she was deliciously, painfully plump. Healthy. 

Not like you. Thin as a rail, your complexion dark and marred with freckles.

You would never look like Her. This phantom of a woman who had haunted you from the cradle.

You had never looked at anyone else in all of your young life. There had been a neighbour boy, once, when you were ten, who would watch you bathing through the gap in the stone wall of the courtyard, but apart from that, he was it. Walter was all of it. And even though you hadn’t been in love with him when you were married either, you had made your mother a promise. A promise that you would try.

And you could try. It wasn’t as if Walter was ugly. You felt sure that you could love him, wholly, if only he would meet you half way.

“Read to me, then?” You asked him, voice hopeful. He looked a little surprised, but he obliged.

“Certainly.”

He held the book aloft and you contained a giggle. Poetry. Something you had very little education in, although you wanted to learn. He licked the tip of his finger before leafing through the pages, searching for the perfect place to start.

He cleared his throat.

Well! If the Bard was weather-wise, who made       The grand old ballad of Sir Patrick Spence,       This night, so tranquil now, will not go hence Unroused by winds, that ply a busier trade Than those which mould yon cloud in lazy flakes, Or the dull sobbing draft, that moans and rakes Upon the strings of this Æolian lute,                Which better far were mute.         For lo! the New-moon winter-bright…

You glanced through the archway and into the kitchen at Martha - Walter had employed a maid after you and he were married – who sat rapt in the high-backed wooden chair. She seemed rather enchanted with the entertainment, having abandoned her own sewing in favour of listening to Walter read. You caught her attention, and, using the clairvoyant form of silent communication all women possess, let her know that she ought to retire.  She gave you a long, knowing look as she gathered up her things, before hurrying into the scullery.

O Lady! we receive but what we give, And in our life alone does Nature live: Ours is her wedding garment, ours her shroud!         And would we aught behold, of higher worth, Than that inanimate cold world allowed To the poor loveless ever-anxious crowd,         Ah! from the soul itself must issue forth A light, a glory, a fair luminous cloud                Enveloping the Earth—

Your stocking feet on the floorboards meant that you hardly made a sound as you crept over to him. Absorbed in the poem, he seemed barely to notice as you perched yourself above him on the arm of the chair, leaning down onto him in a play at seeing the book better. He never paused as he showed you with his finger which line he was reading, so that you could follow along. His shoulder was warm against your bare arm from the fire. Your heart was beating fast.

Your mother would be displeased with you for going without slippers indoors. Walter never cared much about that – he had never cared much for any household etiquette, or indeed anything at all. But not for long. He may have been apathetic towards you, towards the marriage, but he could not ignore his human desire. You had noticed the looks he had been giving you of late, and you were determined that this should not be bound for ruin.

Preparing the dinner that evening, you and Martha had schemed as she’d slipped you a few sips of Walter’s brandy. You had decided that tonight was the night. You were going to be bold.

Breath held, you slid off the chair arm and into his lap. He let out a pleased hum, transferring the book into one hand as he shifted to put an arm about your waist. He continued to read.

Slowly, you began to seduce your husband.

Joy, virtuous Lady! Joy that ne'er was given, Save to the pure, and in their purest hour, Life, and Life's effluence, cloud at once and shower, Joy, Lady! is the spirit and the power, Which wedding Nature to us gives in dower         A new Earth and new Heaven, Undreamt of by the sensual and the proud—

He didn’t notice at first. Your burying into him, into his neck, your arms coming to rest around him, one hand pressed against his chest. He thought you were trying to see better, moving the book closer to your face and you almost laughed. What would Walter say if he knew you had no interest in the poem? That you couldn’t even make sense of it, such was your desire for him. Clouding your mind.

Eyes trained on the page, you rubbed your hand across his chest, exposed where he had loosened his shirt throughout the day. His skin was hot and damp. Absentmindedly, you toyed with one of the buttons, letting your finger tip trace all around it before you very deliberately reached to unfasten it.

And there it was. That hitch in his breath. The falter in his words as he finally noticed what you were doing.

Still he carried on. You almost lost your resolve, and had you not suddenly felt the beginnings of his erection stirring against your hip, you would have given up completely and retired to bed.

“What are you up to?”

His voice was lower than you’d ever heard it. You looked up at him with wide eyes, frightened by his tone and his stern expression, until you realised that his eyes were filled with an inexplicable mirth. He was laughing at you.

“Nothing.” You said in faux innocence, your hand all the time dipping lower into his shirt, until you could feel the taut muscle of his abdomen.

He smirked down at you.

There was no mistaking his need for you now. You could feel it hard against your leg. 

Of course, this would not be the first time you had lain together. But it would be the first time you had ever done anything to him with passion. You had always held yourself back before – fearful he would think you a whore, and at the same time terrified of not satisfying him, of him seeking affairs. You knew your friends’ husbands did it. You had not thought Walter capable, despite his indifference toward you, but Constance had said something to you at the market the other day which had you wondering whether his needs were met. Usually, when he would fuck you, he would turn his face away so that he didn’t have to look you in the eye. But tonight… No. There was something about tonight. You wanted him. You were absolutely aching for him. You would make sure you left him satisfied. And you were going to make sure his gaze never left your face.

***

Everything was hot and wet as your lips collided with his, and you sighed into his mouth in desperate relief. You felt his tongue poke out to lick a line across your bottom lip, coaxing your mouth open and let him in.

“Have you been drinking my brandy?” He murmured, and you felt his mouth curl up into a grin, hot sweet breath tickling your face. You realised he could taste it on your lips.

“No.” You lied.

You were panting like a dog in the heat. The once welcome warmth of the fire was now torturous, and you longed for Walter to strip you of your cumbersome layers. His face was flushed and rosy, trained on your chest as it rose and fell in your tight corset. His eyes were bright as if he had been struck with marsh fever. You felt sure yours looked the same.

“Walter.” You mumbled as you pressed your lips to his neck.

“Hm?”

He had teased your hair from its loose knot and was now running his hands through it, head tipped back to let you suck and bite at the column of his throat.

“Take off my dress.”

His hands stilled in your hair. You pulled back to meet his eye. You didn’t flinch.

***

“All of London will hear what we are up to.”  He said with a hint of amusement, as he tossed you face first onto the bed and you let out a loud squeal.

“Let them hear.” You said, turning your head over your shoulder to look back at him, standing unfastening his belt. “Maybe they will talk about us.”

You were naked in front of him, a trail of your clothes left strewn across the parlour floor for Martha to find in the morning. Just the thought of it - the thought of her knowing you had been too eager to wait, made you tingle all over.

Walter’s eyes darkened.

“Wanton woman.” He said with a wicked grin, crawling onto the bed to hover over you, so that his mouth was on your ear. “Do I have to spank you?”

It sent a shiver down your spine. You could hear the metallic sound of his unbuckled belt clinking as he moved, and all of the hairs stood up on the back of your neck.

“Yes.” You whispered.

He hadn’t quite been expecting that.

The leather strap came down on the globe of your arse with a sharp thwack and you cried out, though not entirely in pain. It was agony for a split second, and then the sting afterwards, along with the soothing touch of Walter’s palm, was quite pleasant. As the belt came down on you again and again you swapped your cries of surprise for breathy, whimpering moans and your husband tutted in mock disapproval.

“Oh my.” 

His voice was dark and dangerous as he dipped his hand between your thighs to coat himself in you as you squirmed. His touch was overdue, and your hips chased after his hand, but he only held his fingers out for you to inspect. Glistening.

He got up suddenly and you whined, rolling onto your back to watch him as he walked over to the smaller fireplace in his bedroom. Your backside stung where you rested on it. The sweat from before had cooled on your skin. You shivered.

“You are perverse, my dear.” He said, back to you as he stooped to light the fire. This time, when he called you that, it felt different.

You settled into the pillows and waited for him. The fire roared to life, lighting up his blonde hair in a blaze. He was angelic. The very picture of innocence. You couldn’t help but smirk.

He turned back to you and returned your expression, but there was something new in his eyes. More than lust. There was a softness there, a fondness.  It made your heart race quicker than it had all night.

He stripped himself of his shirt quickly, the thin, white material gone translucent with his sweat. He tossed it over the chair and then he was coming towards you, grabbing you by the ankle and pulling you towards the edge of the bed.

“Come here, you naughty slut.”

It was fond, teasing, and you were trying to decide whether to laugh or to be outraged when he sunk to his knees and placed his mouth over your cunt.

“Oh!”

***

He had brought you to orgasm before, but never like this. The others, they had almost been bittersweet. Never intentional on his part, side effects of his own need. This was different. This was all for you. The shock of the touch of his tongue to your heat was still new by the time you felt that familiar-yet-unfamiliar sensation, and you’d barely had time to wonder where he had learnt to do such a thing before you were sent crashing over the edge with a scream.

He didn’t stop. 

He seemed hell-bent on licking all of the juice from you, as if you were the sweetest fruit he had ever tasted. As if, were you to get any juicier, you would surely burst. You tasted it when he came up afterwards to kiss you.

Kisses between the two of you were normally stiff, closed-mouthed affairs, but this was evidently a night of firsts. His kisses were long and wet and languid, much like the ones had been against your core.

He took his britches off. His erection – maintained this entire time – finally springing free. Red and leaking against his stomach.

Walter hovered over you, his big hands flat on either side of your head. His eyes searched your face, and upon finding nothing but eagerness there, he gave you one more chaste kiss before thrusting into you slowly.

***

It was over quickly after that, not that you minded. Not before he’d brought you over the edge once more, shaking and shivering under him. You didn’t think that there was any more pleasure left to feel, but there it was, different in its way. A blunter, deeper feeling.

It was the first time you didn’t feel as though you were merely going through the motions. Fulfilling your marital duties. You were there, present in the moment, and so was he. And he never looked away from you the entire time.

And when he collapsed beside you, naked limbs entangling and chests rising and falling in tandem, you looked in his eyes and you knew. 

He wasn’t thinking about her anymore. 

#Walter Hartright #ben hardy #ben hardy x reader #borhap boys #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy fanfic #ben hardy blurb #walter hartright x reader #the woman in white #my writing #ben hardy smut #smut #borhap imagines #bohemian rhapsody

[sinsbymanka]

The Viscount’s Muse (NSFW, Smut Ahoy)

Post DAI - Maria Cadash finds the Viscount’s smut and gets... inspired. This can also be found at AO3! Smut is under the cut. Thank you @tuffypelly for the inspiration!

“Sod it all.” Maria mumbled under her breath, collapsing in Varric’s desk chair. It groaned as if it too thought the situation hopeless. 

“My lady?” The steward asked blandly, stopping his long recitation of matters needing her attention. 

“Sorry, keep going.” She waved him on, glaring at her husband’s desk. “The Comte de Launcet wants what again?” 

The steward continued his droning and Maria listened with only half an ear. Varric’s latest serial, The Murderous Magpie, had been more of a hit that anyone could have dreamed. His next Hard in Hightown, according to all the critics and a rabid fan base. Who couldn’t love a daring, rakish heroine from the streets framed for countless murders of mighty nobles by a shadowy faction with nefarious motives? 

It was transparently based on Bea Cadash of course, but beyond their little circle, nobody else had made the connection. Bea herself actually picked up a copy, read the whole damn thing,  then wrote a real honest-to-goodness letter critiquing it in detail. Maria herself usually got mere notes, laced with profanity, from Bea. A letter was nearly unheard of. 

So, of course, both Varric’s editor and publisher were breathing down his damn neck for the next chapter. Because her husband, of course, didn’t have enough things spinning on his many plates. Ruling the city, managing both their affairs with the guild, raising their daughter, making sure the little operation trying to track Solas down at the Gallows didn’t collapse while Maria vanished into the crossroads for months…

She’d been gone too long the last time she left. Poor Varric must have been drowning in it all. She swallowed the thought guiltily and brushed aside the neat stacks of papers on his desk impatiently. She promised she’d read it before he sent it off but she couldn’t sodding find it. She was about ready to push it to tomorrow when she seized upon a neat stack of Varric’s handwritten notes in a drawer.

She lifted them triumphantly and let her eyes scan the page. 

Mariele’s plump lips opened in greedy anticipation, silver eyes flashing dangerously beneath the black lace of her mask. Viktor already felt himself swelling to attention under her hungry, predatory gaze. She looked as if she’d swallow him whole. A lesser man would fall to her whims immediately… 

Oh for the love of Andraste and all their bleeding ancestors, Varric must have finally given into Cassandra’s urging to write the next chapter of Swords and Shields. Set in Orlais, by the sound of it. Amused, Maria flipped to the next page. 

Her nimble fingers undid his trousers before he could even protest and the bard dropped to her knees in a rustle of pale silk. The moonlight in the garden turned her skin to pearl and marble, turned her hair to flickering crimson flame. She released his heavy manhood into the night, wrapping slender fingers around it and letting her pink tongue dart out over those tempting, kiss swollen lips. 

Viktor couldn’t help himself. He dropped his hand to the bare shoulders exposed by the wispy gown, traced his thumb up the pale, white scars accenting her silken skin. 

“Mariele…” He shuddered under her expert fingers. “Sweet Andraste…” 

“Oh,” The beautiful creature purred. “But I’m so much sweeter.” 

Crimson hair. Silver eyes. Scars climbing up her shoulder. Mariele and Viktor. She wondered if she’d make it through the rest of the draft to find out Mariele only had one blighted arm after losing the other to freak elven magic shenanigans. 

“My lady?” The steward asked, taking in her sudden, frozen posture. “Is everything quite alright?” 

“Of course.” She answered mechanically. “Tell the Comte we can’t assist him at this time. Where is the Viscount at the moment?”

“Meeting with the shipbuilders guild, my lady. Then luncheon with some merchants from Antiva, contract negotiations with the city of Markham, and then you’ve both accepted an invitation to a dinner hosted by one of the Merchant Guild’s…” 

Perfect. She’d been considering cheerfully murdering him, witnesses be damned, but a Merchant’s Guild dinner would be far, far worse than death. “We haven’t sent our regrets about not attending yet?” 

“I believe your plan was to feign an emergency.” The steward remarked wryly. “Fire in the kitchens was next in your rotation of excuses.” 

“We’ll save that for the next one. Please send a note to my husband stating we’ll be attending the guild dinner. I’ll meet him there.”

“Are… are you certain?” The steward asked, agog. Maria shuffled all the papers in the drawer into a neat stack and leaned back in Varric’s chair. She lifted her eyes to the steward and raised one eyebrow. 

“Did I stutter?” She asked sweetly, the tone dripping honey and venom. 

“No! No, ma’am.” He added, gulping nervously. 

“And can you ask the Hawkes if they’ll keep my daughter for the evening? I think we’ll be returning late.” Maria lifted the first paper to her eyes in clear dismissal and watched with a rather large amount of amusement as the steward scuttled away. 

Varric, Varric, Varric… she thought with no small degree of hidden fondness. If this had made it to his publisher, she’d shave his chest hair off herself, but deep down she knew it hadn’t. He’d been naughty, though. That wasn’t in doubt. 

He’d missed her. So he’d written smutty literature starring them. She could already tell it was absolutely awful. And glorious. She couldn’t wait to tell Cass. 

xx

At first, Varric thought his wife had been kidnapped and the note sent under duress. After all, the only person who hated guild dinners as much as he did had to be Maria. After he’d managed to ascertain that, yes, she did indeed order the steward to send it, he’d assumed it was a joke.

Until he went searching for her and saw his finery laid out neatly on the bedspread, a command if he ever saw one. After that, he desperately tried to track her down, but as usual if Maria didn’t want to be found, nobody could find her. The only one who could, their precocious daughter, had already been shuffled to Hawke’s to spend the night. That, of course, meant Maria was indeed deadly serious about attending the guild dinner. 

With absolutely no other explanation offered, of course, because she was the most maddening woman he’d ever met. 

He took his time making it over to the quarter, showing up rather later than fashionable. Shocked, skeptical expressions latched onto him as soon as he entered the hall. Followed, immediately, by a bronto’s charge of dwarves in his direction. Complaints. Flattery. Threats. Varric reached for a glass of wine, immediately wished it was something stronger. He was going to absolutely murder Maria for putting him through this. Particularly since she was nowhere to be found. Clearly, she needed a distraction for something and decided this was the best one she could offer up. 

“The price of parchment is outrageous!” A dwarf growled, spittle catching at his beard as he worked himself into a proper frothing rage. “The tariffs at the harbor are bleeding us all dry. If you can’t allow free trade, I’ll…” 

“Surely the young mistress is getting a bit old to be unbetrothed.” A woman with elaborate, heavy braids sighed. “It isn’t good for a girl’s reputation to…” 

Their Sunshine was barely five and not for sale regardless. For the love of…

“There you are.” 

Oh thank fucking Andraste. Maria’s good arm slipped into the crook of his easily, her lips curved up in wicked, sinful amusement. “Having fun?” She asked, far too sweetly. 

He shot her a pained glare even as her mere presence caused everyone to wisely take one step back. Despite the elegant gown and the pretty braids in her hair, Maria’s every move screamed lethal grace. No guild seat or crown could ever quite make her reputable in the eyes of the very worst of Kirkwall. 

And tonight, apparently, Maria had no plans for appearing even slightly respectable. Her gown was nearly the same color as her hair, blazing ruby red among the dull, drab colors of the guild. It dipped scandalously low, displaying her cleavage with delicious perfection. The thin straps fell off her slender shoulders in wisps of chiffon. The silk bodice curved and clung to her wicked figure like a glove. 

Varric’s mouth went dry as he took her in and he nearly forgot how annoyed he was. Nearly. 

He dropped his lips to her ear and bit back the smug satsifaction at the nearly imperceptible shiver his breath sent through her. “This is not my idea of a good time, Princess.” 

She laughed, low and soft, the ripples sending heat right into his belly. “Come dance with me then.” She challenged, tossing her head back proudly. 

Anything to get away from this crowd of vultures, besides, he never could tell her no. “As my lady demands.” He smoothly slipped his other arm around her waist, admiring the way the silk warmed with the heat of her skin underneath it. The crowd around them parted with muttered, muted disappointment pierced with disapproving glares. 

The ballroom floor itself was full of nothing but awkward, gawking teenagers. After all, dancing was for the young. And humans, of course. Certainly not for respected members of the guild and their stolid, unimpressed wives. The ones Maria outshone without any effort. 

The youths scattered before them, ducklings before swans. Varric took Maria’s hand and stepped back, bowed over it, then placed a searing kiss on the back of her palm. Because he wanted to, (dammit he never could resist that red dress) he pressed another even more desperate one on her fingertips. 

Her lips tipped up, amused in spite of herself, and then she slipped into the space between his arms like she was meant to be there, like it was made only for her. Her hand rested lightly within his and she pressed her delectable breasts against the silk of his tunic. “There’s a disappointing number of buttons done up on this shirt, Varric.” She whined quietly. 

“Hey, you picked it. Thought you were trying to tell me to show some decorum.”

“Never.” She sighed happily. “How can I possibly flaunt you when you’re hiding your best assets?” 

He chuckled, squeezed her fingers within his and dropped his voice low. “For fucks sake, Maria, why are we here?” 

“We were invited.” She replied, gray eyes widening innocently in her face. “Ages ago, remember?” 

“I tend to block out those invitations. Makes them easier to ignore.” Varric’s fingers traced the stiff boning of the gown at the flare of her waist. “You’re not going native on me, are you?” 

“Dressed like this?” Maria asked, laughing as Varric spun her under his arm. He caught her securely and she pressed even more firmly against him, a predatory smile dancing on her lips. “The Guild wouldn’t even know what to do with me.” 

They never did. Fools, every single one of them. “You were awfully late arriving. Suspiciously late.” He pointed out.

“I was on time, actually.” She purred, delighted with herself. “You were the late one, serah. I took advantage of your appearance to extricate myself from a rather lascivious Master Dace and explore all the hidden little nooks and crannies in the garden.”

He groaned and dropped his face into the coiled braids framing her face. She smelled like honey, cloves, cinnamon. A unique and beguiling scent that clung to her no matter what. “So you sacrificed me to snoop around for something.” 

“In a manner of speaking.” She agreed, nuzzling into his neck, her breath warm against his jaw. “I read something very interesting today and this was the only way to get to the bottom of it while ensuring the guilty party squirmed a little.” 

“Nobody’s listening, Princess.” He chuckled and jabbed his chin at the empty dance floor and the disapproving crowd miles away. “Don’t spare the salacious details. I demand to be entertained if I’ve got to be shoved into this bucket of rats.” 

Maria hummed lightly under her breath, her smile wicked and sharp as diamonds out of the corner of his eye. The music stopped, but he tugged her more tightly to his form and waited for the next song to strum up. As soon as it, Maria lifted her lips to his ear. “I’ll try to remember what I read. You’ll have to make allowances if it’s not verbatim. It got me rather… hot under the collar.” 

Was it his imagination, or was there a slight, breathy undertone to that statement? It of course could mean that she’d been furious by whatever she’d discovered, some nasty little guild secret. Maria’s temper meant there was a pretty good chance he’d be needing to have blood cleaned up off of some surface… 

But when she purred the words, he pictured a rather different kind of heat. One well suited to the red dress she wore. 

“I was in the study upstairs.” Maria recounted quietly, little puffs of air against his overheated skin. “Looking for that next chapter of your serial, the one that definitely isn’t based on my sister. I never did find it.” 

“That’s because it’s on the desk in the library.” He supplied less than helpfully. 

“Good to know.” She laughed. “Instead… well, I’ll just tell you what I found at your desk.” 

He made a mental note that he needed to remind the messengers, again, that guild correspondence went right into the rubbish bin. “All ears, Princess.” 

“Let me think…” Maria trailed off, her thumb lightly tracing his palm as they glided smoothly, thoughtlessly, together. Easily in tune with each other, just the way they always were. “It started…”

He waited, eager and amused at her drawing it out. It had to be damn good if she was taking such care to tell the story. 

His amusement vanished almost instantly as the words began to pour from her lips, hot and filthy in her sultry, smoky voice. 

“Mariele had many a man in her time as a bard, surely. A woman of her exquisite beauty didn’t lack for lovers on cold, lonely nights. But Viktor was no fumbling knight. It had been years since he left his sinful, boisterous exploits behind him, but his deft, practiced fingers remembered exactly how to turn a beautiful woman into a puddle of pure, uncomplicated need…” 

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. 

“Forget the steps, Varric?” His wife teased dangerously as Varric very nearly stumbled to a stop in the middle of their dance. She took over leading, eyes sparkling with danger. “Your sinful, boisterous exploits a thing of the past?” 

He was a dead man walking. She’d brought him here to torture him before she shot him. Probably with his own crossbow. “I can explain.” He protested weakly. 

“I’m not done.” Maria’s imperious voice brooked no argument. “I forget the next part. But I clearly remember this bit…” 

He groaned, tried to beg her to stop, but she didn’t heed him at all. “Viktor nearly forgot what it felt like to have a nubile young lady on her knees, but Mariele could hardly be called a lady, particularly with his steel between her perfect, plump lips. ‘Is this what you wanted?’ Viktor asked, twisting his fingers in the crimson braids she wore. The only answer was Mariele’s pleased, throaty moan…” 

Maria twitched her hips to the side threateningly and Varric pressed hard up against her to hide the effect her words were having on his own cock. His filth spilling from her lips was… sweet Maker, he hadn’t known he could want her more than he usually did. “Maria…” 

“My favorite part went…” Maria paused and brought her lips closer to his ear until he could feel their feather light touch as she whispered. “Viktor ripped the delicate silk covering her glistening mound, too crazed by her teasing grin and wicked silver eyes to do anything but plunge his sword into her snug sheathe and…” 

His breath whooshed out, leaving him dizzy. His hands dug into the silk covering her hips and he struggled to think past the liquid arousal running through his blood. “How dead am I?” He asked weakly. He could feel her wicked grin against his neck. 

“What happened to no kissing and telling, Varric?” She asked lightly. “Does Cassandra really need to know about the birthmark on my…” 

“Fuck, it wasn’t for…” Varric couldn’t think. Her perfume was too heady, her eyes sparking, mouth curled up dangerously just the way he loved best, and he couldn’t stop thinking about his cock in her mouth, her warm wet heat… 

“It was just for you?” Maria’s words sent shivers up his spine and she untangled her hand from his to twist her fingers through his loose hair. “Your dirty little secret when I’m gone? Dreaming up what Mariele and Viktor get up to in elaborate Orlesian gardens…” 

“Yes.” He confessed as she rolled shamelessly against him. He could barely hear the music over the pure, screeching need thrumming in his veins. He missed her, Maker he missed her when she was gone. All he could do was spill out the things he wanted to do to her while he waited for her to come back and warm his heart, share their bed, send his entire life into chaos and…

She pulled away and beamed into his face, flushing prettily pink under her freckles. She traced her fingers from his neck, over his jaw, down his chest and hummed thoughtfully under her breath while her eyes sparkled with mirth and… 

Lust. An inferno of roaring lust. 

Maybe she’d kill him, but it would be the best kind of death. 

She twisted her fingers with his again and turned, hiding his bulging cock strategically with her skirts while she dragged him off the wooden dance floor. Varric chuckled breathlessly as he followed her right through the crowd. Several guild members attempted to approach, but thought better of it as the Viscount and his wife slipped into the evening air of the gardens. He couldn’t see her face, but he’d seen Maria march into enough battles to know exactly what it looked like. 

He wouldn’t get in her damn way either when she was a woman with one thing on her mind. 

Thank the damn Maker that one thing was him. 

She shoved him into a dark nook, one she’d clearly scoped out for this purpose alone. It was hidden by a tall hedge and the soaring walls of the mansion behind them. As soon as the shadows enveloped them, Varric reached for her like a man starving, pressed her hard against the stones looming above them. “Minx.” He growled against her lips. “You’re a menace, Maria. You brought me here just to…” 

She brought her one arm up to her generous bosom and pulled something from the bodice, something dark and…

Lace. A lace mask just like the one in his filthy smut. Varric’s cock doubled in size and he reached out with unsteady fingers to pluck it from hers. Her grin was as smug and self-satisfied as a cat who’d eaten a canary, but his imagination was already on fire. “Turn around, baby.” He directed softly. 

“Is Viktor rather bossy, then?” She asked, but she turned and he gently fit the mask over her eyes, tying it with a simple knot over her braids. He dropped his hand to gently run his knuckles down the line of her neck, lower over the dip of her spine. He dropped his mouth to kiss down her right shoulder, tracing the scars that were left there, the remaining marks of the anchor that nearly…

Nearly, he reminded himself. But she survived, she was here, and she was warm, willing, pliant under his large hands when they settled over her waist. She tipped her head to the side to look over her shoulder at him, silver eyes shining in the moonlight, framed to the best effect by the black lace just like he knew they would be. 

She fluttered her lashes, the perfect imitation of an Orlesian coquette, and smoothly turned, dropping to her knees in one sinuous motion. His stomach knotted itself as her fingers reached to undo his laces with one efficient tug. 

“And what information am I trying to seduce out of you, my lord?” She asked in an almost flawless Orlesian accent, ruined only by the hint of her reckless laugh under the surface. “I couldn’t quite glean…”

“I’ve got to admit, Princess.” He saw stars, fought to keep his voice even, as her nimble fingers circled his cock. “The plot was secondary.” 

“Oh really?” She stroked him with her one hand, nothing but a light, teasing touch. “You know, some people read for the plot and skip these steamy scenes.” 

Those people must not have a damn pulse, but before he could retort, her lips opened and the sheer anticipation made him groan, thoughts fleeing as his mind was erased by warm, wet, sweet, sweet bliss and…

“Shit.” He swore, one hand steadying himself on the stone above her, the other twisting in her elaborate braids. He watched her mouth stretch around his girth obscenely, her eyes flicking from the task at hand to meet his and hold them as she worked to take his cock into her mouth inch by torturously slow inch. 

The sight alone was almost enough to make him cum. He ran his thumb over her cheek, voice unsteady, praise falling from it effortlessly. “You’re so beautiful. I love my cock in your mouth, baby. Sweet Andraste, Maria…” 

She laughed, a little bubble of it that brought something warm and bright to life in his chest. She pulled back, cock slipping from her swollen lips, eyes wicked and teasing. “She may be sweet.” She answered pertly. “But I’m sweeter.” 

His cheesy line from his smutty story. He laughed as well, but it tapered off into another long moan as she resumed her work. She slid him almost to the hilt inside her mouth, fingers wrapping around the last inch or so she couldn’t quite fit, slicking him with her saliva as she began to bob her head. 

“Maker I miss this when you’re away.” He continued, watching with worshipful zeal as she licked and sucked. His voice trembled with lust and awe. “It’s all I can think about at night. All I want. It isn’t enough to imagine your lips around me, isn’t enough to think of warm and wet your sweet cunt gets…”

She moaned around his length and the vibrations had him seeing stars. He curled his hand against the stone into a fist and watched her, the great rise and fall of her chest, her shining eyes on his framed by the sexy black lace. She sucked eagerly and his heart thumped unsteadily, liquid heat pooling in his groin. He tugged gently at her braids. “I want you. I want all of you, Maria baby please…” 

The wicked glint in her eyes resurfaced and she hummed around his length. Varric’s hips bucked in spite of himself and he tried, valiantly, to fight the urge to do it again and again until he spilled down her throat. She was ruthlessly driving him insane, playing into his fantasies, his desires, and he couldn’t…

She squirmed, shifting on her knees, and Varric knew she had to be as affected as he was, knew she had to be as needy and desperate. Perhaps more, in fact, since she’d been planning this little encounter all damn day without his knowledge. If Varric thought this would happen every time they came to one of these dinners… 

“Did you touch yourself?” He asked in a low growl. “Reading all that smut, knowing how bad I wanted you, what I wanted to do to you? How hot under the collar did it make you, Princess?” 

He could just picture her on their bed, legs spread, ass in the air and fingers dancing between her legs while she brought herself off to his words. 

She pulled off of him with an obscene plop, her lips shimmering with saliva, his cock shining the same way. She smirked up at him, that crooked little smile that belonged only to him. “Maybe a little.” 

Too far gone to be gentle, he grabbed her by the upper arms and hauled her to her feet, shoving her roughly back against the hard stone. Her fingers grabbed for the fasteners of his tunic, undoing them, sending at least one of them snapping, a button falling to the ground as she whimpered, his mouth devouring hers. She nipped his lip in sweet revenge and he began to pull up her skirts, rucking them around her hips and lifting her by her spread thighs. 

“Yes.” She keened, nails gouging his shoulder as she arched her back, pressing the creamy tops of her breasts to his greedy mouth. He wanted them out of the bodice, wanted her naked and in their bed begging for him as a fair turnabout for this little trick, but first…

First, he was going to fuck her thoroughly against this wall. 

His fingers felt the sopping wet lace of her smalls and tore through them in a moment, the shredded fabric falling in pieces to the grass. She laughed again, but he captured it with his mouth and her arm twisted around his neck, holding him to her as he thrust smoothly inside her. 

Her cunt clenched down on him, muscles rippling with his sudden entrance, but her thighs curved around his waist, scrabbling for purchase, the hard heels of her boots urging him on as they pressed against the small of his back. 

“Tease.” He growled, moving from her lips to nip lightly at her exposed throat as he started a bruising pace, making sure to thrust right into the spot he knew she loved so much. “Wanton little…” 

“You love it.” She bit the lobe of his ear. “And you deserve it. Writing that terrible, amazing smutty…” 

One particularly brutal thrust made her words drop away into a pure, animal moan of need, one that changed into his name as he tightened his grip on her ass. “Strong criticism from someone who wanted to reenact it.” 

She giggled, caught out, pressing an almost sugary kiss to his jaw. “I had a thing for Viktor.” 

Be still his heart. This woman. This amazing, wonderful, insane woman of his. He captured her lips with his own again, tenderly this time, even as his furious pace continued and Maria shuddered in his arms, muscles tightening, body going rigid. 

“Wait.” He muttered against her lips, liquid heat pooling in his spine. “Wait, baby. Wait for me, please Maria…” 

“Varric…” She half sobbed his name in desperation, but that was all it took. His movements became stiff, wooden, his cock swelling inside her. This tipped her over the edge and she half wailed her approval, milking him of his seed and burying her head into his shoulders, trembling against him. He thrust deep one final time and pressed his lips against her temple, mind going hazy at the edges as he spent inside her welcoming body. 

He lowered Maria back to the ground, both of them leaning against each other, too drained to stand. The garden was quiet. No sound but their ragged breathing. Varric wondered exactly how many of the Merchant’s Guild illustrious members had heard them. At least, he thought smugly, it had been a fine performance. 

And since they’d made a brief appearance at an event, they were free and clear of the guild for months.

“Do you think they’ll finally kick us both out?” Maria asked quietly with a satisfied giggle. 

Varric huffed weakly in return. “Doubtful. They’d never risk making us so damn happy. Poor Sunshine’s gonna inherit both those seats and spend the rest of her days cursing us both.” 

Varric bent to retrieve the scraps of lace on the ground, but she stopped him. “Don’t.” She ordered, eyes shimmering with mischief. “Leave them. I want to hear about their reaction tomorrow.” 

He laughed and settled on doing his trousers back up while she leaned against him, unsteady as a drunk. He kissed her forehead sweetly and wrapped his arm around her waist. 

“I unlocked the gate back here.” Maria snuggled into his shoulder. “And I told the kitchen staff to leave the side entrance open.” 

“You think of everything.” Varric murmured, smoothing her gown back over her hips. 

“Not everything.” Maria smirked in the moonlight, rightfully smug. “This was, after all, your idea.” 

Varric softened, pulling her tightly to his side as they wandered down the pristine garden paths in the darkness.  “But you, as always, are my muse.”

#varric tethras #varric romance #inquisitor x varric #inquisitor cadash #cadash x varric #non-canon romance #shameless smut #fluffy as hell #dragon age inquisition #dragon age #post dai #post trespasser #cadash is a bit of an exhibitionist #varric digs it #varric and maria keep trying to get kicked out of the merchant's guild #the merchant's guild sucks

[violentmouths]

The Sweethearts 💌

This Valentine's day gift is ten days late, but hey, better late than ever!

This gift goes to my lovely friend @clevermentalitybeliever hope you like it,

And if you haven't heard of this song yet, do listen to it, it made me think of them big time!

💘💘💘

Step one

You must accept that I'm a little out my mind

Grima sat infront of the coffee table cutting out and making origami hearts and roses,"Not enough," she said to herself, holding her face, her eyes went around in circles. "Not enough, not enough, not enough..." She repeated over and over again "They're gonna hate it- no, more hearts, more roses!" She started to shout, pointing at every single one of her plants and turned them into red, white and pink roses or bleeding hearts.

"More Roses, more bleeding hearts!" She shouted as the flowers began to bloom out of control. She heard the apartment door being unlocked, she scooped them up in her arm and took a deep breath.

The door opened, and in came Lanea and V, who were conversing with each other. V stopped mid sentence and widened his eyes at the livingroom being filled with flowers, Lanea gasped when she saw an eye twitching, messy haired Grima who holding her paper creations.

"Happy Valentine's Day!" Grima shouted, tossing the origami in the air. The spider plant laughed as she dropped to her knees, slamming her head into the coffee table and leaving a huge crack in the wood. "Grima!" The pair shouted, running over to her to see if she was okay.

Step two

This is a waste if you can't walk me down the finish line

Lanea looked at the cook book, trying to figure out how to make a certain dish, at first, she became confused by what she was reading. "Need a hand?" V asked, looking over her shoulder at the cook book "Sure." Lanea replied, moving out of V's way as he began to read "First rule, wash your hands." Grima advised, walking behind them and using the sink to wash her own hands.

The monstress' lovers went over to the sink and washed their hands, coming back to the book, Lanea and V looked at Grima, who reached for a kitchen knife. "V, get me the seasonings. Lanea, I need oil in a frying pan." Grima instructed, the two walked away from her as she read the name of the recipe.

"Shrimp fettuccine, Lanea?" She whispered to herself, putting the hand the held the knife on her hip and the other on the counter, she looked over her shoulder at her lady friend who was putting oil in the frying pan.

Step three

Give me passion, don't make fun of my fashion

Grima and Lanea waited for their other lover on the couch, the two stared blankly at the tv as it wasn't really their thing unless it involved video games.

V quietly stepped out of his room fixing his shirt, he cleared his throat to make them look in his direction, the girls were unsure what they were looking at, they both faced each other then looked at V again.

He was wearing a purple Hawaiian shirt that had red lips all over it with black pants and sneakers, he had on blue tinted shades, and a dangly earring in his left ear.

The girls smiled nervously at him, "Interesting... Outfit." Grima started, Lanea looked at the monstress then at the bard "Interesting indeed." She agreed, V looked down at his outfit. "What's wrong with it?" He asked unbuttoning the top buttons, "Nothing, it's just new..." Grima said getting up from the couch, Lanea got up with her. "It's cute." The demoness finished, hugging him from behind as the sorceress hugged V from the front, all sharing a moment of embracing.

Step four

Give me more, give me more, more

The couple sat in a cafe looking out the giant window infront of them, sharing an extra large strawberry milkshake.

Under the table, they held hands, playing with each others fingers as they spoke about their day, telling each other secrets, and sharing stories of their past.

"So that's why you like to dance, because of your mom." Lanea said as she stirred her straw in the frozen beverage, Grima nodded her head as she sipped away, V watched the plant demon before looking at the milkshake "Perhaps you could perform for the both of us, Ms. Li." V suggested looking at her again, Grima shifted her upper eyes at him "I will." She replied, taking her lips off the straw and smiling.

The bard stared at the witch, who smiled at him, both smiled at the demon who didn't stop smiling, V held up three fingers, dropping them slowly before they all put their lips to their straws, drinking the milkshake together.

Step five

You can't be scared to show me off and hold my hand

For Grima going outside was usually not her favorite thing to do, as everyone either stared at her with eyes filled with awe when she had three eyes closed or in fear when they were open.

As she walked down the street with Lanea and V, she hid in her hair so people wouldn't look at her. But this didn't fool the bard and the witch, V, who was in the middle, moved Grima to the middle and held her hand.

The monstress looked at him with shocked eyes, while off guard Lanea to Grima's other hand, the monstress looked at both of her lovers and wondered why, it took her some time to realize what they were doing but when she did it made her smile at the ground.

She wasn't going through anything alone anymore.

Step six

If you can't put in work, I don't know what you think this fucking is

The couple could be lazy at times, but when it came to planning dates it was all Lanea, and boy did she get tired of it. She couldn't understand how Grima and V were fine with her continuously planning things, did they not want to go to places they wanted to?

"Lanea dearest, where should we go next?" She heard V asked, pointing at an almost completely marked map, "We've been almost everywhere in Red Grave." The sorceress groaned before rolling her eyes.

"Alright guys," she started, looking up from her book, the bard and the spider plant looked at her and blinked "it's time for you two to plan a date." Grima closed two eyes and stared at him "U-um" "Well then..." the two stammered, putting their gaze to their map.

"How about uh...?" V started off "We go to this café?" Grima asked, pointing at a piece of the map "Yes, yes and how about a movie?" V added, pointing at another piece of the map.

The two stared at their other lover "So, let's go to the cafe at three, then see a movie at five." Grima advised holding up a few fingers "So, why don't we freshen up and leave in twenty minutes?" The rhymester advised, they both got up and quickly ran to their rooms.

Bickering about who takes a shower first while Lanea continued sitting on the couch, shaking her head at their banter.

Step seven, this one goes to eleven

If you cheat, you will die, die

"Stoooooop, I'm blushing." The spider plant giggled on the phone, she curled into a ball so no one could see her face, "What? It's true!" The voice on the phone said, the sorceress rolled her eyes in irritation; it was Dante.

He called every here and there just to flirt with the walking plant, practically begging her to come over, Grima never did though. They'd go back and forth about what they'd do to one another, flirting as if V and Lanea were not there, and this bothered them greatly.

"Grima, can we talk?" Lanea asked, closing her book and walking over to the spider plant, she took the phone out of her hands and hung up on the demon hunter, Grima uncurled herself from her ball and stared at the witch. Out of the blue, V sat down next to the sorceress, not saying a word.

"Do you love us?" She said after everyone was in the room "Yes, yes I love you,"Grima answered "what gives you that idea-?" "Then why do you flirt with Dante?" V intervened, leaning forward.

Based on his posture, he was getting serious "We're curious as to why you treat Dante with far more care than you do with me, when you're both together you act as if we aren't there." He explained, looking at Lanea then at Grima.

"...It's a demon thing, I can't help what he says, I keep him close because he's half of me." She admitted as she reached for her toes, playing with them.

The pair suddenly got it, Dante was closer to her kind than anyone else, making her feel more comfortable to talk to him about damn near anything, not only that she always felt like they were going to leave her rather the other way around.

"I see, so you're not going to leave us." V implied, Grima nodded her head at him before climbing into their arms.

"I also saw what you did there, Ms. Li, you excluded me out when you said I love you..."

If you can't handle a heart like mine

Don't waste your time with me

If you're not down to bleed, no, oh

If you can't handle the choking, the biting

The loving, the smothering

'Til you can't handle it no more, no more

Go home

💘💘💘

Colorful lyrics: High School Sweethearts by Melanie Martinez

#dmc vitale #dmc v #dmc5 vitale #vitale #dmc5 v #my friend's oc #my oc #her oc lanea #lanea #oc grima #oc; grima #ms. li #v x oc x oc #grima x lanea x v #lanea x grima #v x grima #v x lanea #sorry it's late #valentine's day gift