#and dear god i suck at coin toss

[jacks347]

When you remember you actively use Tumblr now so you can cross-post all your Discord fics :o (Enjoy Hadestown Bastard Warrior)

"You're really going after him."

Faith nearly jumped out of her skin at the sudden voice, turning to see her only friend leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and eyebrow raised. She just sighed, turning back to continue packing her suitcase. "He's the love of my life, Devlin. I won't give up on him that easily." "Sister, I know you're dedicated but he walked to the underworld willingly! He saw Hades and went with him!"

Faith snapped the lid of the case shut, spinning around to face Devlin with a fire in her eyes he'd only seen a few times before. "If going to Hades and demanding him back is what it takes then by God I'll do it!"

Devlin just stared at her for a minute, as if trying to read into her soul, see if she would squirm or break under his hard stare. She just stared back, rising to his challenge and daring him to question her. He closed his eyes, sighing heavily before digging into his pocket and pulling out a shimmering gold coin. He tossed it over to Faith who fumbled to catch it. It was ancient, the engravings in a long-forgotten script. The only thing she recognized was the embossed symbol on the back. It looked like a horseshoe but Faith knew better. Omega, the last letter of a lost language, the sign of Hades. She'd never seen anything like it, it was no currency from any country she recognized. What was it? Why did Devlin have it?

What did he know?

"If you're really sure about this, I can't stop you. But I can tell you how to get down there without getting yourself killed. Unlike Albus, you won't get the easy way down on the train. You'll have to walk the tracks. That is your ticket past the gates. I trust you'll treat it with care until you come back."

Faith clutched the coin tight, feeling the cold of the metal seep into her skin. "Tell me how to get him back."

~

The air was thick with smoke and suffering, a smell that burned her nose and threatened to choke the air out of her lungs. So this was Hadestown, land of the dead, domain of death itself. It wasn't quite the fire and brimstone she'd been taught as a little girl but it was close enough. It reminded Faith of the mines she'd visited while traveling on a charity mission. Faith sucked in a deep breath that stabbed her lungs, holding it in her chest as she pushed through the slow-moving crowd. She had to find him, she would find him, she would march up to Hades himself with her love in tow and demand he return with her if that's what was required of her. Gods have mercy on her, you couldn't blame her for trying.

She waded through the sluggish worker bees of the underworld, scanning every face for the one she desperately wanted to see. How long had she been searching for? Minutes? Hours? Days? It was impossible to tell. But gods be damned, she was standing by her word, she would not return until she found her warrior.

"You are a persistent one, you know that?" A voice from behind Faith chirped, making the priestess spin around. Who stood before her was someone...different. Faith couldn't exactly tell what they were but they certainly weren't one of the dead around them. It almost looked like they were made of...stone? Was that possible? The person tilted their head at Faith, their long purple hair falling over their shoulder. "You're looking for him, aren't you? The warrior that Dad brought down.” “Y…Yes, I am. Who are you? How do you know that?” The person laughed, straightening back up with a grin. “Call me Pandora. As for how I know, it’s kind of obvious. It’s one thing for one living person to be in the underworld but two? Consider it a likely guess.”

Faith took a second to compose herself before stepping towards Pandora, attempting to look intimidating. “Take me to him or I’ll-” Pandora held up her hands in surrender with an amused smile, cutting Faith’s threat short. “Take it easy, dear Sister. I was going to do that anyway. Follow me.”

~

“Dad! Dad! She came! I told you she would!” Pandora shouted as they kicked the door open to a massive throne room of sorts. Sitting in the giant throne was an equally giant man with the same carved stone design as Pandora, white hair, glowing eyes, and a kind smile. Faith knew who he was, she’d heard stories about him all her life. “Hades…” She whispered under her breath, making Pandora pause, turning to look at her. “Hades, Tyr, Jupiter, ancient giant, whatever name you wanna give him. I usually just call him Dad.” They turned back to the man, still beaming like a child bringing their parent a shiny rock.

Hades stared at Faith for a moment with a blank expression, making the priestess squirm before he smiled, standing from his throne and gently removing a black bundle from where it was nestled in his hair to place it on the ground in front of Faith. “Is this what you’re looking for?” His voice held a hint of laughter, revealing the bundle to in fact be Albus who had been peacefully sleeping on the lord of the underworld’s hair until he was moved and was now very much awake and not very happy about it. “What the hell? Why’d you wake me up, I was enjoying that-” “Albus!!”

The man in question barely had any time to react before Faith practically bowled him over as she threw herself into his arms. She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed like he’d disappear if she let go, buried her face in his neck and cried. All the emotions she’d forced down since he left sprung to the surface, like a pressure release valve being pulled. “I thought I’d never see you again…I thought you left me…” She sobbed, her voice broken. Albus took a few seconds to recover before he very slowly and awkwardly hugged Faith back. “Faithful? I-I missed you but what are you doing down here? How are you down here?” “I could ask you the same question, you train-hopping jerk.” She sniffed, pulling her face out of his neck to look at him properly.

Hades cleared his throat softly, making Faith look up. His smile had turned sad and a little guilty. “Don’t be mad at him, little priestess. If you’re going to be mad at anyone, be mad at me. I’ve been watching Albus for a while now, he intrigued me. So when I saw the opportunity to give him a better life down here, I took it. I only realized after I heard your cries that taking him wouldn’t be as consequence free as I thought. I’m sorry I took him from you. Now I must ask, how did you get down here?”

She begrudgingly pulled away from Albus to properly face Hades. “I…was guided. In a sense. Someone told me how to get down here.” “Someone told you?” Pandora chimed in, looking very confused. “But the only person on the surface who know how to get down here without the train is…oh.” They took a second before bursting into giggles. “He really disguised himself again? Wonder how long it’s been. Did he give you the coin?” “Yes…he did.” Faith slowly pulled the golden coin out of her pocket, letting Pandora get a close look at it. Hades let out a soft chuckle of his own. “Seems Hermes has taken quite the liking to you if he was willing to help like that. Or does he still go by Devlin?” “Devlin is Hermes??” “Hermes, Mercury, maybe Odin if you squint at it, names are never consistent.” Pandora shrugged as they ticked off each of the names on their fingers.

Faith turned her attention back to Albus, her heart hurting at the thought of having to return without him, even if she knew he was safe. Would it be selfish to ask for him back knowing he was doing well here? She shook the thought away. No, she came down here on a mission, she was going to fulfill it. “Hades, my lord, I do thank you for your hospitality but I’m sure you know I don’t belong down here.” “Of course, you’re still living, you must return home.” “Then, I’ll go. But I’m taking Albus with me. If the living cannot remain in the underworld, he can’t either.” Hades frowned at that, his brow furrowing. “Dear Sister, he came down on the train. He gave up his life, he is no longer part of the overworld. The dead cannot return to the land of the living.”

Faith felt her heart stop. No, that was impossible. Sure, Albus went willingly but that didn’t mean he was dead, right? Then again, he did step onto the train. He took the dead way down. She felt sick. “No…no that’s not possible. I came all the way down here, I’m not leaving without him. I refuse! There has to be another way!” Hades thought for a moment, muttering quietly under his breath before sighing. “Fine. I’ll let you return with him.” Faith’s entire body relaxed in relief. 

“However.” 

He continued before she could start to thank him. “You must return the way you came, back up the railroad tracks. But you will not be side by side, hand in hand. If you wish to bring the dead back to life, you must lead him, standing one in front of the other. You must have faith in yourself and in him to remain behind you. If you turn back to check if he’s there at any point in your journey, he must return to the underworld and you will continue back home alone. It will not be easy, there will be those on your path that will try to make you doubt. Whether you choose to listen to them or not is up to you. That is my condition. Choose to take it and I’ll let you go. Choose not and you will return alone. Will you take this test of faith?”

Faith contemplated for a minute. A single file walk back home, simply having to trust that he would be there. Could she do it? Did she really have the mental strength to?

She had to. There was no other choice. She came all this way, she wasn’t going to leave without him.

Faith turned to Hades and nodded solemnly. “I’ll take the test. We’re going home.” Hades smiled, something encouraging but also worried. “Then let’s send you two on your way.”

~

"Think they'll make it?" Pandora looked up at Tyr curiously. His face was caught between tired and hopeful.

"I don't know." He frowned, the tired sadness in his eyes taking over as his shoulders sagged like a sudden weight had dropped upon them.

"Tyr, you let them go." Pandora looked back at the two with a worried expression, the retreating figures of the pair as they started on their journey inspiring both excitement and fear. Tyr's soft laugh had her staring up again in confusion.

"I let them try." The hope was back, a smile just barely tugging his lips up.

Maybe...just maybe...

~

Faith was terrified, she really had to admit. Her hands were squeezed together in front of her to keep them from shaking and the only sound was her heart hammering in her ears. She could do this. There was no reason she couldn't. But there was still something weighing on her, like a block of marble threatening to crush her heart if she let it hope too much.

“You really think you can do this? Bring someone back from the dead that easily?” The voice was new, lilting and dripping in honeyed sympathy. Right, this was the enemy of the return trip Hades had warned her about.

The Fates. Or Fate, she supposed in this case. He'd told her this one was called Kravatas. Believed to control the lifespans of everyone through golden strings. They didn’t much appreciate being challenged, so the path back to the surface would have them whispering in her ears the whole time, making her doubt herself in an attempt to make her break the deal and turn around. She just had to be stronger than them.

"Poor naive Sister Koria. Why do you think no one has succeeded in this before? What makes you think you're better than anyone who came before you to walk this road?" He hissed, his sweet tone doing nothing to hide the acrid venom in his words. She knew she shouldn't listen, that he was just trying to mess with her. But something in his words made her hesitate for just a second.

"Faith? Faithful, listen to me. Just keep going, you have to trust me. I'm right here, I'm still with you." Albus’s voice pierced through her thoughts, reminding her that she wasn't alone in this. She took a trembling breath, wishing desperately she could turn around and hold him or at least reach back to touch him. Some kind of physical sign that he was there. But she couldn’t. All she had was his voice and her own faith in him.

“But does he have faith in you?” The voice was back, she could practically feel his breath curling against the back of her neck. And as much as she didn’t want to think about it, his question hit her. Did Albus have faith in her? He was living the good life in the underworld, the only reason he was going back to the surface, a life he loudly expressed his hatred of, was because of her. He could turn back at any time and never say a word. She would be left all alone and not even know it until she got back.

No, I can’t think like that. He wouldn’t do that to me. Sure his life hasn’t been great thus far but he loves me. I know he loves me.

Right?

~

Faith had long since lost track of how it’d been since they started walking. The hissing doubts of the Fates becoming white noise that buzzed in the back of her head. Not like she needed them, her own doubts were far louder.

He’s still there, right? He hasn’t spoken in a while, I can’t tell. He wouldn’t have turned around without telling me, right? He wouldn’t just leave me, right?

Faith had bitten her nails down to nothing, her nailbeds aching. She couldn’t hear, she couldn’t think. She just needed a minute to process but she had to keep moving. There was nothing she could do. It was just her, the road ahead, and her own thoughts. And that was the scary part.

I just have to trust him. I know Albus. He might’ve gone down himself but he’s coming back now. And that’s all that really matters, doesn’t it?

“He already left you once. Who says he won’t do it again?”

She nearly stopped in her tracks. He was right. She hated to admit it but he was right. Faith already had to walk down into hell for him once, took him away from a life he deserved far more than what the world above was giving him. What was stopping him?

“Do it.”

I have to.

“It’s just a peek.”

Just to check.

“Prove his love to you.”

Prove that I’m not a fool.

"Turn around, Faith.”

And turn she did, looking right into the betrayed eyes of the man she doubted.

In the dead silence of their walk through purgatory, Faith could hear both of their hearts shatter.

She knew Albus didn’t cry. He just didn’t. But nothing could hide the shine in his eyes or the waver to his voice. “Missed me that much, did you Faithful?”

It was all over. She’d let the Fates get in her head. She got in her own way. “Albus…I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have doubted you-” “Don’t apologize, Faith. I’ll see you eventually, right? Don’t forget about me while you live your life up there, will you?” “I don’t think I ever could forget you, Albus York.” She laughed wetly, his face beginning to blur from the tears that welled up in her eyes.

“I love you, Faith.”

“I love you too, Albus. I’ll see you again.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

~

Devlin leaned back against the wall of the train station, flipping a familiar gold coin idly. “And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the story of Faith and Albus. Lovers torn apart by doubt and want.”

The gathered crowd burst into a mix of applause and sobs, as was the reaction every time he told this story. He didn’t blame them, it was a popular one.

His coin flipping was distracted by a small tug on his sleeve. It was a little girl, one who attended his stories quite often and he’d heard some of the Sisters call Kerano. “Mr. Devlin? Can you tell it again?” Devlin sighed, shaking his head with a smile. Kerano’s hopeful stare and bright smile were too cute to deny. “Alright, one more time. Just for you. Now, on the road to the underworld, there was a railroad line.”

#i spent way too long on this #but it was worth it #i regret nothing #suffer :D #asmr roleplay #good boy audios #gba albus #gba devlin #gba faithful #gba tyr #gba pandora #gba bastard warrior #angst #fanfic #fanfic writing #writeblr #writing #writers on tumblr #hadestown #musical theatre

[puppys-rhythm-heaven]

i recorded myself playing ds yesterday and got a superb on built to scale first try, and nearly perfected glee club and fillbots,,,

but i just ok’ed fan club and remix 1 and also can’t even superb built to scale on my primary file- honestly out of this the one that annoys me most is fan club because why is it so strict i missed like three inputs- why are all the jumps required it makes it near impossible when sometimes the emulator just goes “fuck you” and doesn’t process my flick.

#puppy rambles #rhythm heaven ds #rhds #ds #built to scale (ds) #glee club #fillbots #fan club #remix 1 (ds) #glee club i think was actually perfect but idk if a perfect campaign for glee club has the same timing leniency as normal glee club #also yeah i decided to do a playthrough of ds #and at the end of the ''episode'' i was like. showing off rhythm toys and stuff #and i tried coin toss #and dear god i suck at coin toss #coin toss fucking sucks #worst endless game #(and that's saying something cuz charging chicken's a thing dear god) #(charging chicken by itself is theoretically okay but on citra? where it sometimes just lets go of the a-button for no reason?) #(true rhythm hell)

[geraltofriviasleftbuttcheek]

It takes Jaskier three days to find out Geralt is his soulmate. 

After the whole thing with the elves, he follows the witcher to the next town, ostensibly to debut his musical genius, but also because—well. He just finds Geralt of Rivia to be the most interesting person he's ever met. Jaskier is drawn, first and foremost, to interesting people with stories to tell, and Geralt, as he'd said that first day, is just full of stories waiting to be told. 

He sings Toss A Coin to much warmer reception than he's gotten yet in backwater towns like this, and Geralt comes back from a contract for some creature bleeding out his intestines and looking like he'd rolled in every single mud puddle on the way back. 

"Did you go out of your way to jump in every puddle you saw?" he asks, face screwed up in disgust as he helps the witcher up the stairs to the room he'd rented with his new earnings. "If you were thinking to clean the blood off, you didn't do a very good job." 

Geralt just grunts, slumped against him and breathing through his nose in a way that seems very concentrated. His eyes are very black, like pitch, and there are veins spidering their way over his cheeks. He's also much, much paler than Jaskier has seen so far, and for a brief moment, he wonders if he's going to watch one of very few witchers left in the world perish on the spot from some poison or other. 

That would certainly cock up his plans to give the sod an image makeover, and he says as much as he watches, with concerned bemusement, as Geralt struggles to get his armor off to check on his wounds. 

"Do you ever shut up?" Geralt finally asks, squinting at him. He yanks a vambrace off and tosses it aside, teeth gritting as it pulls at his wound. It's too dark in the room with all of the witcher's black clothes to see just how much blood there is, even with all the candlelight. 

Jaskier huffs in offense and puts his hands on his hips. "I wouldn't have to if you weren't so silent all the time. Honestly, it's like you don't know how a conversation works." 

"I don't want to have a conversation with you." 

"Tough shit," Jaskier says, and finally steps forward to help. "Gods, maybe you should just climb into the bath like this. Might soften up the coagulating blood in your shirt to let you take it off. Here, c'mon. You're disgusting, and I might have to throw up from the smell alone." 

Geralt gives him another look but doesn't argue when Jaskier helps him up and over to the bath. The water is only lukewarm now, but it's clean, and that seems to do it for a nasty, gross, blood-covered witcher. 

He splashes in with little other fanfare, and then Jaskier jumps away as Geralt makes a strange motion with his hand and the water starts to steam. He stares in awe as the witcher settles in with a content sigh. 

"How did—what was that?" he asks, curiosity brimming. "How did you do that? Witcher magic, obviously, but what was that?" 

Geralt opens one pitch black eye to look at him. The spidery veins are starting to recede, barely. "Witcher magic," he deadpans, and Jaskier makes a face at him. There's the smallest, tiniest curve of his mouth, though—the bastard is smiling.

"Ha ha," Jaskier shoots back, sitting beside the tub. He dangles his hand in to feel the water now pleasantly, muscle-relaxingly hot. "Keep your secrets, then. I'll get them out of you one day." 

"Will you, now," Geralt teases—teases! Melitele, the man has a sense of humor. 

Jaskier just sniffs primly and stands up again, moving to grab some of his soaps and oils. "I will indeed, witcher. Now—which one of these do you like best?" 

Geralt grumbles and scrunches his nose at all but two of the soaps (the unscented ones, he should have known), complaining how they're too much for his senses right now, heightened as they are with the potion he'd taken earlier—also the reason for his current black-eyed state. Jaskier is fascinated by that, of course, and immediately starts asking him about the contract, how it went, what he'd fought, what other potions he has in his arsenal. 

He just—he wants to know. Geralt is intriguing and fascinating and interesting and there's just something about him that draws Jaskier in and makes him want to know everything. 

To his surprise, the witcher, while brief about it, does indulge him and give him a bit of a retelling of the fight as Jaskier helps him out of his shirt finally and washes his hair, combing out the gore and tangles. He gets a bit more about the mechanics of making witcher potions and what ingredients go into them, and a bit on the habits of the creatures—drowners, it turns out—and how they compare to other beasties he faces. 

Jaskier files away the thought that Geralt prefers talking about the gentle, everyday things in his life over the blood and death and fighting. He wants to keep that for himself, he thinks. 

He's so caught up in this quiet revelation that he doesn't realize he's let his hands fall to strong shoulders, fingertips brushing delicately, feather-light over scarred skin, until he notices a bright spot of color from the corner of his eye. He looks down reflexively and feels himself still, sucking in a sharp, startled breath. 

Geralt with his witcher senses notices immediately, body tensing up under his touch. "What." 

Jaskier, rare as it is in his life, can't seem to find his words. He watches, gobsmacked, as a trail of soft light blue follows the places he touches the witcher. It shimmers as he moves his fingers, like the tail of a star shooting across the sky, almost glowing, and he's mesmerized. 

It's not the having of a soulmate that's rare—most people do, in fact, and many times even multiple ones—compatibility is always in flux, after all—it's the Color Touch that most people never get to experience. One in every one hundred thousand people will be lucky enough to find the person—or persons—that will show their Color Touch. 

It's the presence of a bond so immediately strong that it manifests to the naked eye. 

"What is it," Geralt repeats, tone sharp. "What the fuck are you—"

He sits up in the bath, as if to move away from Jaskier, but Jaskier keeps him in place, sliding his fingers down to his forearm where Geralt can see the trail of color left in his touch's wake. He feels the witcher still, eyes—no longer pitch black, now back to their normal, beautiful gold color, the spidery veins gone—boring into the places Jaskier's fingers leave spots of blue as he dances them up and down his pale skin. 

"Impossible," Geralt breathes, but it sounds more like he's talking to himself. 

He reaches out and grasps Jaskier's wrist, stilling his movements, and when Jaskier gently pulls out of his hold they watch as the burnished gold color he leaves behind shimmers for a few heartbeats before fading away again slowly. 

"Impossible," Geralt repeats, just as soft, and finally, Jaskier finds his voice again. He laughs, breathless and excited. 

"Oh, my dear, I don't think 'impossible' is a word that's familiar with you," he says. 

He smiles when Geralt turns wide, wary eyes on him, full of a hidden, repressed hope, reaching out and trailing his fingers over the witcher's jaw, once again mesmerized by the blue of his own Color Touch. "I knew from the moment I saw you there was something special about you, Geralt of Rivia, and I wanted in on it." 

Geralt swallows thickly at that, throat bobbing as Jaskier's fingers caress over it. He looks away, clenching his jaw. "I'm not a fan of Destiny," he grits out. Jaskier feels him lean into his touch, though, almost instinctively. 

"Can't say I am, either," Jaskier agrees. "Doing what I'm told has never been one of my strong suits. I prefer making it up as I go, and to hell with the rest." 

It gets a snort of laughter out of the witcher, the tense lines of his body relaxing back into the warm bathwater. They'll be alright, he thinks. 

Jaskier can't help but lean in and press a kiss to his cheek, though, just to see if that leaves a Color Touch, too. 

It does. 

#the witcher #geraskier #fics. #time for my monthly reappearance on this hellsite #just to post this single fic and fuck right back off lksdjf #anyway have some soff soulmate fluff <3

[jaskicr]

for buffskier, for some reason jaskier has to wear geralt’s armour (this is like @spielzeugkaiser’s art) and geralt realises that his armour fits jaskier extremely well. and also jaskier can lift his (rather heavy) sword and can also fight with it

i love a good clothes swap and i had a lot of fun writing it, so this got longer than expected, oops! (also known as: let me see how many of my favourite tropes i can gleefully shove into this) and thank you to @spielzeugkaiser for letting me write a ficlet inspired by their art<3

“No, no,” Jaskier says frantically. “That village - it’s not a good idea. Let’s find another place to get a contract.”

Geralt frowns. “Why not? There’s a well-paying contract there.”

"Trust me, it’s better if we find another one,” Jaskier insists. 

“There are no other villages that are within a day’s ride,” Geralt points out, annoyed. Why is Jaskier being so adamant?

Jaskier sighs, pinching his nose. “I’ve been there, okay? They weren’t very - receptive towards my songs. They loathe you.”

“That’s not news,” Geralt comments dryly.

“You don’t get it, Geralt.” Jaskier rakes a hand through his hair, frustrated. “The Blaviken thing - they’re really, really set on that.”

“We need to stock up on supplies, and we’re basically out of coin,” Geralt grumbles. They could camp for the night, but it really wouldn’t be ideal. Besides, Geralt is used to the boundless hate thrown at him for Blaviken. This will just be another hateful town, and he can handle it. “I need to take the contract, Jaskier.”

Jaskier throws his hands up with another loud sigh. “Geralt -”

“I’m used to it.” It’s the truth, but familiar anger ignites in Jaskier’s eyes at the thought of the injustice directed towards Geralt, and it warms Geralt to see Jaskier so protective of him, even if it isn’t anything either of them can change.

“They truly hate you, Geralt, and I don’t want you to be subjected to that.” Jaskier’s voice is concerned, worried. “If only we could…” his voice trails off, and he murmurs, “oh.”

“What?” Geralt asks warily. There’s a glint in Jaskier’s eyes that Geralt has come to recognise as Jaskier having one of his ideas, ideas that usually end in disaster.

“What if...” Jaskier pauses, grinning, which does not bode well. “Gods, I’m a genius. They’ve never seen you, so they don’t know what you look like.”

“... And?”

“Well, they’re expecting the Butcher of Blaviken to be a white-haired, golden-eyed witcher with big fuck-off swords and a surly demeanour,” Jaskier rambles, eyes brightening. “But if we swap clothes, and I pretend to be a witcher and you can pretend to be a bard, then they won’t suspect anything!”

“That’s...” stupid, Geralt wants to say, but as crazy as Jaskier’s idea sounds, Geralt needs to take the contract, and as much as he hates to admit it, Jaskier’s idea is likely their best shot. Gods, is he really going to go along with one of Jaskier’s harebrained schemes? 

“It’s genius, isn’t it?” Jaskier says with a proud smile on his face, looking expectantly at Geralt. “We can waltz into town, me as a witcher and you as a bard, take the contract, you can slay the monster, then I can collect the payment, pretending to have killed the monster. It’s perfect!”

Jaskier’s idea is one of his better ones, though Geralt is still dubious about pulling it off. “Our clothes won’t fit each other.”

“Oh, trust me,” Jaskier reassures him confidently. “They will.”

After some needling from Jaskier, Geralt eventually gives in reluctantly, softening slightly when Jaskier sends him a triumphant grin. He doubts that this will work - after all, his armour will likely be too big for Jaskier, and Jaskier’s frivolous, vibrant clothes will undoubtedly be too small for him, but Geralt always gives in to Jaskier in the end. It won’t work, but Geralt might as well let Jaskier indulge for a few moments. 

They turn their backs to one another as they strip off their clothes to swap with each other, and Geralt can’t stop his eyes from wandering over to Jaskier. Jaskier’s doublet is strewn on the ground, and when he pulls his shirt over his head, Geralt’s mouth goes dry.

Jaskier’s back is unexpectedly broad, the strength evident in the width of his shoulders, and Geralt sucks in a breath as Jaskier bends over to take off his trousers, his firm bottom directly in Geralt’s view, and as Jaskier pushes his trousers down, Geralt gets an eyeful of thighs that are thick with muscle, built up over long hours of walking, and strong, shapely calves.

Geralt hurriedly whips his head around, his face heating up suddenly. 

Well. That had certainly been unexpected. 

Where had Jaskier been hiding all of that?

Geralt keeps his mind on taking his own clothes off, determinedly not thinking about the sight he’d just seen. When Jaskier’s clothes land next to him with a thump, Geralt tosses his own armour over his shoulder, and it takes every ounce of his willpower to not turn around and catch another glimpse of that expanse of tantalising skin. 

Picking up Jaskier’s cream-coloured shirt and sky blue trousers, Geralt eyes them dubiously, reluctant to put them on. They’re rather too bright for his taste, and Geralt fears that he might accidentally rip Jaskier’s clothing - though after what he’d seen earlier, that doesn’t seem to be the case. 

Geralt gingerly pulls the sky blue trousers on, grimacing inwardly at the way the too-bright colour stands out against his pale skin. To his surprise, his legs slide in without much resistance, and he barely has to struggle for the trousers to fit, with the trousers only squeezing his calves and his ass the slightest bit. 

He hadn’t expected to be able to squeeze into Jaskier’s trousers, and certainly hadn’t expected them to fit so well. They’re slightly short on him, though not by much, since he and Jaskier are nearly of height, and Jaskier’s trousers don’t fit that much tighter than his own. 

Less tentative now, Geralt pulls on Jaskier’s shirt. Like the trousers, it’s a slightly tight fit, particularly around the chest and shoulders, but not tight enough to be uncomfortable, and looking down at himself, Geralt finds himself once again surprised at just how well Jaskier’s clothes fit him. 

Behind him, Jaskier lets out a teasing whistle. “Well, would you look at that lovely bottom.”

Groaning, Geralt turns around. “Jaskier, why -” He chokes on his own spit when he sees Jaskier before him, decked out in black leather. “Unf.”

The armour fits well. Very well. Unlike what Geralt had expected, the armour doesn’t hang loosely off Jaskier’s body but hugs it perfectly, fitting almost as well as Jaskier's own tailored clothes. The bulk of Geralt’s armour only serves to make Jaskier seem more broad, a hulking, dangerous presence. 

Geralt had thought that his armour would hang from Jaskier’s shoulders in an unflattering way, too loose to be practical, practically drowning him in fabric. Instead, the armour clings to Jaskier’s body in all the right ways, drawing Geralt’s eyes to the wide expanse of Jaskier’s shoulders and the thickness of his biceps. Geralt’s trousers are pulled taut over Jaskier’s thighs, the strength in them clearly visible through the tight fabric. 

For a moment, Geralt sees another witcher looking back at him, broad-shouldered and strong, ready to take down the monsters that roam the Continent, but the illusion is shattered when Jaskier sends him a slow, lazy grin. 

“Well, it seems that you’re wrong,” Jaskier purrs, prowling towards Geralt, and he makes quite a sight, looming and lethal as he approaches Geralt, and Geralt has to swallow down an involuntary gulp. Gods preserve him. “Our clothes fit each other quite well. Extremely well.”

His eyes rake down the length of Geralt’s body, something almost hungry sparking in his gaze as it lingers on the way his shirt is stretched just slightly too tight around Geralt’s chest, the way his blue trousers cling to Geralt’s legs and ass, and Geralt had to fight the urge to hide himself from a look so predatory that he feels as if he’s being sized up for a meal.

“Yeah, um, yes,” Geralt stammers, and why is he stammering? He tries again, grasping for words that elude him with every second he’s graced with the sight of Jaskier in his armour. “Hm. I - yes.”

“Yeah?” Jaskier’s eyes are sparkling, and Geralt gets the distinct impression that Jaskier is laughing at him. 

“We, uh - your plan worked,” Geralt mumbles. He wants to avert his gaze, wants to duck his head in embarrassment, but his eyes refuse to leave Jaskier, desperately drinking him in. “We can, uh…”

Jaskier chuckles. “Let’s head into the village then. Better not waste any time.”

“Yes,” Geralt says faintly, watching as Jaskier heads over to where Geralt’s swords are laid out. “Uh, right. Can you, uh, lift them?”

Jaskier raises an eyebrow, bending down and reaching for the swords, and sweat beads at Geralt’s temple as the tight leather trousers pull tight around Jaskier’s ass. “Lift them? Of course I can, my dear witcher - or my dear bard, I should say - they’re not that heavy.”

He closes his hands around each sword, one steel and one silver, hefting them thoughtfully in his hands. Geralt realises with a start that Jaskier is holding his swords like he knows what to do with them, like he’s fought with swords before. Jaskier keeps surprising him today, it seems.

Jaskier slides the swords into the sheaths on his back with practised ease, then grins at Geralt. “Well, my darling bard, shall we?”

My darling bard, Jaskier purrs with a low tone that makes Geralt’s too-slow heart beat just a little too fast, and Geralt swallows at how easily Jaskier refers to him as his. 

“W - what?” Gods, he really is distracted, and Jaskier smirks at him. 

“We need to take the contract, Geralt,” Jaskier reminds him, amusement dancing across his face. “Come on, grab my lute, and we can go.”

“Right,” Geralt mutters, turning away to hide the way his cheeks are burning. The weather is really quite hot today. Reaching for Jaskier’s lute, he slings it over his shoulder the way he’s watched Jaskier do thousands of times, and heads towards Roach, getting ready to leave. 

“You look good as a bard,” Jaskier murmurs, and Geralt startles, turning back to look at him in surprise. Jaskier winks at him, and surely Geralt’s eyes must be deceiving him, because Jaskier has that glint in his eye when he flirts with young men and women that catch his fancy - now, that glint and that wink are directed at Geralt, and gods, the weather is really hot. Maybe he should go take a dip in a stream later. 

Maybe he can even ask Jaskier to join him, and watch as water drips down his body, the droplets clinging to the bare lines of his muscles, and why the fuck is Geralt even thinking this?

Shaking the tempting image from his mind, Geralt croaks out, “We should. Uh. Let’s go.” 

His face still feels too hot as he clambers on Roach, resolutely not looking at Jaskier as they set out towards the town. Despite his efforts, images of Jaskier’s body bombard his mind - his wide back, his strong thighs, his shapely ass, and Geralt has to make a concentrated effort to stay on Roach. 

Though it wouldn’t be a hardship if he were to fall off Roach and have Jaskier catch him in those strong, thick arms -

And Geralt needs to get a fucking grip. One look at his surprisingly muscular friend and now it’s all he can focus on. 

When they finally arrive at the village, Geralt is beyond grateful for something else to distract his thoughts from how they’re spiralling into increasingly inappropriate territory. Jaskier is his travelling companion, his best friend, for gods’ sake, Geralt shouldn’t be thinking this about him. 

The villagers bristle with thinly veiled hostility as they pass, glaring at Jaskier, and Geralt hunches his shoulders and ducks his head, doing his best to hide his eyes, but no one pays him any mind. Their eyes slide over Geralt’s colourful clothing and lute to rest hatefully on Jaskier, who strides on with a blank mask on his face, unbothered by their stares, looking every part a dangerous, deadly witcher. 

Geralt can practically touch the hostility that thrums in the air, his enhanced hearing catching snatches of witcher and mutant and butcher, and he grudgingly admits that Jaskier was right - had they not swapped their clothes, Geralt would’ve been chased out of the village for being the Butcher of Blaviken. While the town is clearly not welcoming towards witchers, they’re likely making an exception for any witcher who isn’t Geralt.

They head into the village’s biggest tavern, and Geralt hangs back as Jaskier stalks up to the man who’d put out the contract, listening to the details of the monster - a few nekkers, nothing too dangerous - as Jaskier negotiates payment far more skilfully than Geralt could ever have done. After a few minutes, Jaskier returns to Geralt, and they leave the tavern with distrustful gazes on their backs.

“It doesn’t sound like a big nest,” Geralt murmurs, just loud enough for Jaskier to hear. “Let’s deal with it and get out of here.”

“How did you - ah, witcher hearing, yes, silly me.” Jaskier scans their surroundings warily. “If we get changed in the forest, you can take care of them and then we can change back, collect our gold, buy what we need, and leave. No one will even suspect anything.”

Geralt frowns as Jaskier steers them in the direction of the forest. “But the nest is in the forest, it might not be safe -”

“It’ll be fine,” Jaskier dismisses, waving a hand. “We’ll just make sure to be quick.”

Geralt wants to disagree, but he keeps his mouth shut as they head into the forest, trying to tell himself that it’ll be fine. After all, it’s not like the nest will be that close to the village anyway. They’ll be fine.

“We just need to be far enough from the village that no one sees,” Jaskier says cheerfully as they wander deeper into the forest. “Then you can go do your witchering -”

Then Geralt feels a rumble beneath his feet, and he barely has the time to shout out Jaskier’s name before several nekkers burst from the ground, surrounding them.

“Fuck!” Geralt curses. He’s not in armour, his sword is with Jaskier, who’s too far away for Geralt to get to in time, and Jaskier is drawing the silver sword, what the fuck is he doing -

Two nekkers leap at Jaskier, and even as Geralt raises his hand to cast Aard, he knows it’s too late to stop them from tearing into Jaskier - but then Jaskier dodges them easily, slashing Geralt’s sword through the air, decapitating one of the nekkers, and Geralt’s jaw drops at the skill and speed with which Jaskier handles his sword.

Geralt doesn’t have much time to stare in shock, however, as he detects a few nekkers trying to ambush him from behind, and he casts Aard to blast them back. He has his signs, at least, and with the nekkers pushed away from him, he quickly glances towards Jaskier just in time to see him run his sword through a nekker’s chest, then duck under a swipe from another nekker, rolling up behind it to deliver a deadly gash to it with his sword, and just like that, Jaskier has dispatched all the nekkers that had surrounded him.

Something burns in Geralt at the sight of Jaskier in his armour, wielding his swords, easily holding his own against a pack of monsters, and Geralt pushes it to the side for the moment. He has no time for distractions.

“Jaskier,” he calls, his hands ready to cast a sign as he watches the nekkers from earlier recovering from Aard, and Jaskier, as always, understands what Geralt wants before he says it, and tosses the sword to Geralt.

Geralt catches it just in time to slash his sword across a nekker’s throat, leaving one nekker snarling viciously at him. It lunges at him, and Geralt dodges its attack, swinging his sword and managing to catch it in the throat, but he’s so preoccupied with it that he doesn’t notice the shift in the air behind him until it’s too late.

Geralt braces himself for the pain of deadly claws digging into his back, but nothing comes, and he turns to see Jaskier standing behind him, Geralt’s steel sword in his hand as the head of a nekker thuds to the ground.

“You’re welcome,” Jaskier says, only sounding slightly out of breath. “Well, wouldn’t you say that this contract has gone rather swimmingly?”

Geralt can’t answer, unable to formulate a response as he stares at Jaskier, standing before him with a triumphant smile, Geralt’s sword in his hand and Geralt’s clothes on his body, and well, Geralt had always been rather attracted to competence, and what Jaskier had done…

“You can. Fight?” Geralt stutters dumbly, tongue like lead in his mouth as his mind replays the last few minutes of Jaskier swinging his sword with an expertise that few can match, of how Jaskier had managed to hold his considerably heavy sword far longer than most humans can, of the way Jaskier’s thighs had tensed underneath those tight trousers when he’d crouched before lunging at the nekkers.

Jaskier shrugs, the movement drawing Geralt’s gaze to the breadth of his shoulders as he slides the steel sword back into its sheath in one smooth motion. “You sound surprised.”

“I… didn’t know,” Geralt says slowly. Since when has Jaskier been able to fight?

“I never told you, because you never asked,” Jaskier admits with a rueful smile. “It was worth the look on your face, though. You still look rather dumbstruck, my bard.”

Geralt opens and closes his mouth a few times. “I…”

Jaskier’s eyes gleam, and he stalks towards Geralt with predatory intent, mouth curling in a lazy grin. “Why, Geralt,” he purrs, stopping just in front of Geralt. He reaches out and captures Geralt’s chin in one hand, forcing his gaze up from where it had been wandering down Jaskier’s body. “You like this, don’t you?”

“Like what?” Geralt manages, held in place by the force of Jaskier’s gaze, their faces too close together for Geralt’s brain to work properly.

Jaskier laughs. “You do,” he murmurs, and for a moment, Geralt holds his breath, waiting for something -

But then Jaskier steps away, releasing his grip on Geralt’s chin, and some part of Geralt mourns the warmth. “Let’s go,” Jaskier says, casual as ever, like he hadn’t been pressed close to Geralt just a moment ago. He starts walking back to town, leaving Geralt staring after him, frozen in place.

He doesn’t move for several moments, blinking at Jaskier’s retreating back, and his eyes involuntarily wander downwards, appreciating the way his own tight trousers do wonders for accentuating Jaskier’s thick thighs and firm ass. It’s only when Jaskier turns his head back to look at Geralt with a raised eyebrow that Geralt is pulled out of his trance, realising that his mouth had fallen open rather embarrassingly when he’d been ogling Jaskier’s assets.

“You coming?” Jaskier calls, and there’s something teasing in his voice, a quirk in his smile that hints at a promise of more, a whisper of later, and Geralt’s breathing stutters.

And as he stumbles after Jaskier, who’s still clad in Geralt’s armour and looking unfairly good as he struts in front of Geralt, all he can think is, gods, he’s going to kill me.

dkjfgn i made geralt very, very thirsty. this was so utterly self indulgent and i just threw in a bunch of my favourite tropes lmao

update: here’s the sequel!:)

#geraskier #jaskier #geralt #buffskier #mine*

[honklore]

is nothing sacred? | quackity

(4.6k+ word count, prince!alex, augur/seer!reader, gn!reader, angst, alex has a sucky dad, reader has a sucky family, karl appears as a time traveler ofc, neg and pos religious themes, deification is the belief that when a monarch dies they will become a god, the rapids is a kingdom in this but it isn’t an smp au)

listen to: evermore by taylor swift, foreigner’s god by hozier, (the end) by levi weaver, exile by taylor swift

There’s a warm spring just outside the monastery. It’s hidden in the mountain, a few miles away from the castle walls and yet you find that it’s too close for comfort.

Every bright and loud fanfare that announces the prince’s coming and leaving echoes off of the hills and pours through your peaceful respite. It’s just enough to make you grumpy.

It’s one of those mornings again, and you find yourself floating in the hot spring, eyes open towards the sun, wishing you had more patience with the dear prince you call your best friend.

Your robe is heavy across your torso, floating around your bare legs as you ponder your plans for today. That is, if the prince doesn’t come visit you.

That would be wishful thinking, though. You don’t have to close your eyes to know that someone has blocked the sun. With a sigh, you sink your body beneath the warm water and submerge, blinking the water off of your lashes. “Alex, this is sacred ground.”

“I know,” the prince replies, squatting down to see you. “I tied my boots around my neck, see?”

You stare at the boot he’s proudly holding up, then shift your eyes to his bare feet. “Why are you here? This is my day off.”

“Excuse me for wanting to see my best friend,” Alex sneers mockingly, rolling his eyes. “Listen, are you coming back to the castle tomorrow?”

“We literally have an augury lesson at one in the morning,” you say. “So, yes.”

“Good, I’m going to disprove all of your theories.”

“They aren’t theories, Alex. I read patterns for a living, alright? I know what I’m talking about.”

“It’s not science.”

“Neither is your father deifying your grandfather,” this time you mock him.

He holds a steady gaze, lips quirked into a cheeky smile. “You’ll tell me about the night of my coronation again, right?”

“Because it warned of extreme change,” you say, voice level. “Yet I can’t figure out what’s going to happen. There’s something the stars aren’t telling me, and I have to figure it out to protect you and the kingdom.”

Alex’s eyes are a deep brown that you could probably get lost in, if he wasn’t such a little shit. “Protect me, you say?” He’s flirting now, eyes alight with the thought of annoying you, and if this spring wasn’t so important to you, you would’ve yanked him in already. “Didn’t know you cared that much about me, Y/n.”

Your robes are clinging uncomfortably to your body, accentuating the lines and curves — or lack thereof. “Hand me my towel and look away please.”

Alex closes his eyes and turns his face away, holding out the towel. “Learn anything divine from your swimming trip?”

Alex holds the towel out like a makeshift screen, and averts his eyes while you dry off and change into the clean robe he brought you. As annoying as he is, the prince is thoughtful, and he fills in the places where you lack.

“I was reflecting,” you say, buttoning the front of the robe. “It’s good for you; clears out your soul.”

Alex tosses the towel over your head and ruffles your hair. He chuckles at your protests; taunts you with warmth in his eyes. “You’re so spiritual.”

You glare at him. “I’m an augur.”

“Right,” Alex says, holding the now-wet towel close to his chest. “But you take it so seriously, sometimes.”

“I hate you,” you say, no venom in your words.

“I love you, too,” Alex says. He leans forward, almost as if to kiss your forehead, and then remembers that you’re on sacred ground, and kissing is forbidden.

Still, the very thought of what he might’ve done sends an unwanted flutter throughout your chest.

Wax drips onto the closed letter. You dip the silver stamp into the dark purple puddle, leaving the royal seal behind.

Inside is a letter to your family. It’s a prophecy you’ve received just for them. Despite them disowning you for your gift, you still find it important to warn them of upcoming woe. Like now, for instance, when you wish to warn them about the upcoming rainstorm that could ruin their crops if they don’t take precautions.

You rub your temples and blow out the candle, leaving you in silent darkness.

Your room is on the highest tower of the castle. The turret is small; a circular room with a circular bed and a circular desk and a glass, circular ceiling that showcases the stars to you each night. There’s a telescope standing against the window, a chest for your clothes, and the writing desk you’re seated upon. However, your bathroom is a few stories down, near the bottom of the tower and closer to accessible plumbing.

The door behind you bursts open, and you know it’s the young prince and his lack of basic manners when it comes to privacy. Your privacy, anyway. “What is it, Alex?”

“I’ve been waiting for you in the tower for an hour now, silly,” Alex’s words get softer as the light from the corridor pours in, and he can see what you’ve been up to. He stills, smile faltering. “You had another vision of them.”

“I wish they would stop,” you mutter. If you clench your eyes tightly enough, you can will any tears to suck back into your head. Then you can suffer through a headache, like you always do. You’ve had this “gift” since you were a little kid; you know the ups and downs of using it.

Not that it gives you much choice sometimes.

“Are you drinking the–“

“No,” you snap at Alex. “Look, suppressing them only makes it worse. Prophecies become... darker. I see things I can’t unsee. I have to allow them through.”

Alex has a hurt look on his face, but you can’t tell if it’s because you snapped at him or because he doesn’t want to see you in pain. You selfishly hope it’s the latter.

“We can talk about something less harsh on the mind.” Alex sits on your chest, avoiding your bed. It’s another sacred place for you, same as the monastery grounds. Alex knows the rules of being a seer; the ancient laws you practice. He’s read the same books as you — if just to understand you better. He’s the most loyal friend you can think of: the only person in the entire kingdom who has never questioned your beliefs.

“I can’t stand the thought of them getting hurt,” you admit. “And with the vision about your coronation... I’m so scared this kingdom is going to crumble and it’s going to be because I couldn’t prevent it.”

Alex fiddles with his necklace. It’s a rune, one for protection. You used to wear a similar one beneath your robes, but with your fear of something happening, you’ve made Alex promise to wear it.

“It’s not your job to keep the kingdom from crumbling,” Alex relays. “All you need to do is tell me what you see. Then I hint to my father ways to change the kingdom. After that, it’s up to fate.”

You bite your lip. “Fate has a tricky way of playing its own hand.”

“Then it was never in your hands in the first place, yes?” Alex speaks honestly, but there’s a bit of cheek to his voice that eases your nerves.

You smile sadly. “Your father is too prideful, Alex. I can see it; the ravens, they flock the castle whenever he makes a speech. He wants to become a god. He wants something that’s impossible.”

“He deified Grandfather,” Alex quips, no emotion backing his voice. “Like you said earlier. It’s just to start the tradition, so that when he dies he’ll become holy, too.”

“I told him it was wrong. I told him that the stars foresee ruin if he stays on this trail of pride.” You cast your eyes down to your family’s letter. “No one believes me.”

“I believe you,” Alex’s soft voice urges you to look at him.

He’s quiet. The rune is resting on his outstretched palm and he’s looking at you. “Do you think I’d take these lessons and wear these trinkets if I thought you were wrong?”

“Maybe you do it because we’re friends,” you say. You're well aware of the fact that the prince is the only person in the entire kingdom who advocates for your beliefs. But with the rest of the realm against you, you can't help but think that deep down, he's making fun of you, too.

"You sure do worry a lot for someone who can foresee the future."

You choke out a laugh and run your hands down your face. "I'm sorry, Alex. I'm so sorry. I just– I feel like if I can't prevent every bad thing I predict, then it's my fault when they happen. I wish I was ignorant to omens."

Alex tuts. He pouts at you, dragging his lower lip between his teeth and holding it there for just a beat too long. “Let’s skip lessons today. You should rest.”

“Alex—“

“Ah!” Alex stands up. He begins to unclip his cufflinks from the hem of his sleeve before he passes you a coy glance. “That’s Prince Alexis to you, and if I say you should rest, then you should rest.”

You grumble, but inwardly you’re thankful.

There’s an altar, rectified in the middle of the castle courtyard. Though it was once a place of healing — a place seers would go to cleanse their minds — it is now standing in ruins.

You lay down your offerings anyway. Dried rose petals, and a few copper coins saved up. You wait with the objects until a few crows come to diligently take them away. To where? You don’t know. You’ve never asked.

Alex’s father plans to take down the altar and replace it with a shrine of himself. The knowledge of change reeks the air with a foul scent only you can smell.

It’s as if the entire kingdom is rotting and you’re the only one who knows.

You lift your hood off of your face and continue your walk throughout the court. Those you pass politely ignore you, though some choose to sneer at your mannerisms. The king has them wrapped in his prideful rule, and your heart aches for them.

There is no freedom in serving man. This much, you know.

You find yourself in the tower, waiting for the prince to come in time for his lessons.

“Father says he wants me to study more practical subjects,” Alex relates to you.

He’s lying across the balcony floor, and you are perpendicular, with your head on his stomach. You feel every breath he takes, and something about the closeness comforts you in a way you refuse to analyze.

“I’m not sure what else you could learn,” you say. Your eyes are stuck on a chip in the balcony railing. Stone that hardly cracks, and of course your foundation is crumbling quicker than your resolve. “You have lessons from dawn till dusk.”

“And you’re the only tutor I care for,” he says with a flippant sort of tone. “I don’t know what I’d do if I saw you less. I already wish I had more time with you.”

You’ve spoken to nuns and monks and those who swear off love in servitude to the one they worship. Most admit that it’s a lonely existence, and a torture to make up for their sins. You understand that true love must be as sacred as an old god, and to worship another person would be the greatest act of devotion. For how else do you serve a creator than by worshiping the created?

You don’t think kings are meant to be worshipped. No one with that much power should be revered with such ignorance.

But a prince is different. To worship a prince alone, in secret, for just yourself... perhaps that is the most spiritual devotion of all. Perhaps it is the most torturous.

Hearing Alex’s words makes your heart yearn for a future that can never be. You don’t need a vision to tell you that his father will soon grow tired of you. Of course you will soon be sent out of the kingdom, and Alex will forget about you in time.

You know this without a doubt in your heart, and yet Alex still clings to these moments with you.

You’d do anything to keep him safe.

“Where will I go?” You ask. “Where will I be accepted?”

Alex’s breath hitches; you feel it. And you know what he wants to say — you know what lingers at the tip of his tongue.

With me.

Your family sends back the letter, unopened. You try not to cry about it, but the truth is that you feel more alone than ever. Surely you are the last of your kind, and no one cares in the least about what you have to say.

Except maybe Alex. Lovely, beautiful Alexis. He could no sooner harm a butterfly’s wing than deny you your beliefs.

But Alex is not king. He is merely a prince, and the king does not like you. It’s a miracle you’ve lasted this long.

“You fill my son’s head with nonsense,” the king paces back and forth in front of his empty thrown.

You hide your hands in the sleeves of your robe. “Your Majesty, I only relay what I see. I fear your kingdom is in danger.”

“And you think it my fault? Tell me, what if the stars told me to deify my father? What if I am following my own visions?” The royal cackles. “You have no sensible argument. All you have are silly dreams and lies to propel your own agenda. I will not have you spoiling my son’s brain.”

“Your Majesty—“

“I forbid you to speak on anything of the sort from hence forth. The altar will be torn down, and any peep from you regarding these readings will result in instant banishment.”

The sentence hurts more than it should, considering you aren’t being willed to die. You’re quite lucky in this sentence, considering you can still see Alex. Though, a part of you cracks and splinters to think of suppressing your visions.

The vision of Alex’s coronation still remains. You fear for the prince’s life. You fear the king will have something to do with it.

How do you tell the boy you adore that his father may be his downfall?

How do you get him to believe you?

The warm spring only gets hotter as the seasons change. You sink your head under, and the heat of the water burns your closed eyelids. Your head is killing you; pounding from holding back your emotions: your tears.

The monks don’t even worship the same as you. They lend you their springs and advice, but they aren’t the same. There are no other augurs in The Rapids, so no one else really knows how taxing the job is.

More visions come to you when you’re stressed, so you try your hardest to calm yourself. The water scalds your skin, but it distracts your mind enough to keep the visions away.

It’s all the same. All the visions are the same — Alex gets crowned king and overturns the deifying decree. And only days later, he’s assassinated, and the regent — his father — takes back the throne.

As the old proverb goes: pride cometh before a fall, and the king certainly has enough pride. You just don’t want Alex to get caught in the fall.

“You’re so predictable.” Alex’s voice is warbled.

It takes a minute for the water to release from your ears.

Surfaced, you can see Alex crouched by the bank, careful not to fall in. He’s got that same gentle smile — thin, rouge lips and eyes that seem to shine when they look at you. Alex never judges. He never makes fun of your methods. He’s simply there for you, and your heart longs to be there for him as well.

“This place is sacred,” you blurt. Seeing Alex’s face in the light of the sunset just makes you think of your visions. What would a world without Alex even look like? You aren’t sure you want to find out.

You start to cry, and Alex holds a hand out silently.

He helps you out — holds out the robe for you. His boots are around his neck, and you focus on the thinness of his ankles while you clothe yourself.

“You can’t hold me.” You say plainly.

“I know,” Alex’s voice is watery. “Let’s get you back to the palace, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you sniff. “Okay.”

“I’m not dead.” Alex lightly scratches your arm. Up and down. Up and down. “I’m not going to die.”

Your shoulders are braced against his side. You keep your gaze on the white smoke rising off of his incense cone.

This is his room, and his bed, because those aren’t sacred. His bed can be slept in and snuggled in and kissed in and loved in. He has scratchy cotton sheets and incense that is too old to really smell like anything.

He’s a prince with messy documents surrounding his desk and curtains that haven’t been dusted in days. Some days you wonder if the entire castle has forgotten about him. You don’t want to bring it up — don’t want to ask — but it flummoxes you.

You reach for his hand and stop its motions. “I’m sorry I bring you into all of this.”

“I want you to bring me into everything,” Alex slurs. He’s staying awake for you, and you know it. He rests his temple against your head. “I don’t want you to keep anything from me.”

You hum. His body is warm against yours. Too warm, to the extent where you know you’ll wake up in the uncomfortable sort of sweat that comes when a child falls asleep on you, or when you fall asleep without the window open.

Something heavy squeezes your chest. It feels like your ribcage is sentient — hugging and pressing into your lungs until it’s nearly impossible to breathe without an uncomfortable stutter.

Alex falls asleep quick, so you don’t worry about him noticing.

You settle against him and breathe through your nose. The feeling will pass — it always does. You feel this way whenever Alex reveals something so vulnerable to you. You reckon it’s something to do with the tenderness of his voice, or the earnest squeeze of his hand.

There’s a need to protect him. You want to be there for him, more than anything else in the world.

Stripped of your job — the altar torn down — you resort back to your first and foremost activity: Alex’s best friend and (unofficial) advisor.

In this position, you’re confident in your abilities. You know just as well as anyone that you’d rather die than see the prince harmed in any way.

You’re kicked out of the tower, and your telescopes are left to dust. The king locks the door personally, ardent in his attempt to keep you away from any visions that might harm his reign.

You stay in Alex’s room, on a spare bed mat near the fireplace.

Of course, Alex has offered his bed, but you refuse to bother him any more than you have to. And now, with your rituals forbidden, you need a place to privately gather your thoughts.

The flames lick the stone furnace and you lie still. You watch them dance and close your eyes, hoping to rest without any visions or nightmares.

But the nightmares come, and they’re always the same.

When you wake in a fervent sweat, you know that only one thing will keep you from fearing Alex’s death. So, you crawl beneath his scratchy sheets.

You don’t snuggle into him or bother his slumber. All you need to do is know that he’s here. You rest your smallest finger against his bare arm and fall asleep to the sound of an owl hooting outside the window.

On the morning of Alex’s coronation, fog rises from the earth. You see it as a sign: this day will be confusing and blurred.

Alex is just excited to have cooler weather. The blistering heat has been plaguing the kingdom for days, so to have a day of fog and hollow wind sounds like heaven to the prince.

You wear your runes beneath your robe, and the weight of them is less than the weight of knowing you’re dead if you’re caught. But you need them; need this day to come and go without blood and tears.

Alex cannot see you. He’s far too busy with final rehearsals and receiving guests from far and wide.

You stray beyond the castle, into the square, where traders and travelers have set up shop in the hopes of making a profit.

There’s a sign. Fortunes Read Here. It’s tacked over a purple curtain, and you can see amber light shining through a thin slit. Like maybe someone is in there. Like maybe you aren’t alone.

You walk in.

Disappointment smacks against your ribs like a heavy wave against jagged rocks. It’s a scam. A boy no younger than yourself is sitting behind a table, with a green sash tied over his forehead. There’s a mystical rune of some kind that looks like a portal, and it’s tacked to nearly every surface you can see with dripping green paint. The place looks like that of a madman, and you fear you’re about to be mocked.

“Hello,” he says. He doesn’t offer a name. The blues of his eyes flicker from time to time with a shimmery purple, and you think it’s a trick of the light.

“Are you going to laugh at me?” You sit across from him. “Once I leave, are you going to think of me as just another gullible customer?”

“Can you not tell the future?” He says, and he grabs the crystal ball and tucks it under the table. “I can sense it. You want answers, genuine answers, not some promise of success.”

“Who are you?”

“Karl,” he says. “I’m from the village of The Rapids, but you know, magic is looked down upon. I doubt anyone would believe me if I told them what I know.”

You trace the lines of the rune. Your brain fogs, but as you repeat the motion, it clears up, and you suddenly see Karl, clear as day, standing in a crowd and watching Alex make a speech. “You’ve been there? You’ve been to the future?”

“Look closer,” Karl mumbles.

So you focus on the details, and you can see the black banners of mourning, and the redness of Alex’s eyes. “Oh. This is his grandfather’s funeral. This is the year before I became Alex’s tutor.”

“Walk closer.”

Unsure what he means, you continue to trace the rune, and imagine yourself walking through the crowd. Only Karl moves instead, so you pause your tracing and look at Karl.

He’s got his eyes closed, and his eyebrows furrowed. “Why did you come here? What did you want to see?”

You brought me here, you think of saying, but you wonder if this is what Karl can do. If he can travel to the past and show people what he sees. “I- I suppose I want to know why he was deified. Was it a plot?”

You trace the rune again, and Karl walks over to the king, where he stands apart from the podium. Even though his son is giving a heartfelt speech, he’s not listening at all. Instead, he’s talking to one of his trusted advisors.

“I will make a wonderful god.”

“Prince Alexis hates the new creed,” the advisor observes. “Surely he’ll overrule it once he is king.”

“Yes,” the king says. “Well, I suppose we’ll just have to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

You gasp, and even Karl seems winded as you stop tracing the rune.

He places his palms on the table. “So that’s what you wanted to find out. A regicide plot.”

“I have to find Alex,” you mutter. You stand and rip one of your runes off of your neck. Intuition. “Here, take it. You should go.”

“I can’t go into the future,” Karl warns. “I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

“No,” you think of Alex’s words. “None of us can predict fate. I have to go.”

You run out of the tent, and when you look back, it’s gone, left with nothing but a dirty sign labeled Fortunes Read Here.

Perhaps it’s past tense now.

Your purple robe billows behind you as you rush into the castle in search of the prince.

The staff says they haven’t seen him, the lords are already drunk off of mulled wine. His own tailors are running around, fearing they won’t be able to dress him in time.

So he’s gone, and that means you’re too late.

Or rather, maybe Alex is smarter than you give him credit for, and he’s gone to the one place his father won’t go.

You head up to the tower.

He’s there. Of course he’s there. And he’s in only part of his ceremonial clothes, leather pants and a cream-white collared shirt. He’s leaning his palms against the stone railing and staring out against the wind, like he’s waiting for it to speak to him. Tears slip down his cheeks and drop into the air.

“Alex…” You wrap your arms around his soft waist, squeezing tight to try and convey how thankful you are that he knew to get away. “Your father… He’s—”

“He poisoned my breakfast,” Alex whimpers. He grabs blindly for your arms, and at the touch of your skin, he folds in on himself; shifts around to face you, and buries his face into your neck. “My taster… He thought my taster was out. But he wasn’t. Now he’s dead, and the counsel are trying to figure out what to do with my father.”

“Alex, I’m so sorry.”

He cries harder, and you think your hug must feel weak compared to the comfort he so clearly needs right now. “I have to go tell the lords and the staff. We have to postpone the coronation until everyone involved is apprehended.”

You think of what he does when you feel alone. He visits your spring, and he takes off his shoes. He takes you to his bed and scratches your arm. He kisses your head and hums old lullabies from his childhood until you fall asleep.

So you grab his hand, and you pull him down the few stairs where your old bedroom lies. And you bring him toward your bed, but he stops you.

“It’s sacred to you,” he hiccups.

“You’re sacred to me,” you finally decide, and you let him crawl under your sheets.

You untie his boots and pull them off of his feet, along with his socks. Then you take the blanket and pull it up to his chin. You kiss his forehead and crawl in next to him. And you scratch his arm, up and down, and you hum old lullabies from your own childhood until he falls asleep.

While he’s asleep, you trace the moles across his cheeks and close your eyes. Suddenly, it’s like Karl’s tent, only you can see into the future, not the past. And you aren’t Karl, you’re Y/n.

The sun is bright on Alex’s back, skin tanned and warm. You’re swimming with him in the spring, and all that is sacred to you is him. All that matters is him, so he can float in the spring, and he can kiss you on holy ground, and if he can’t be deified in the kingdom, he can be deified in your soul.

And when you stop your motions, you’re back in your bed. Alex is there, sweet Alex, snoring softly and snuggling into your warmth, like you keep him safe. Like your visions aren’t the ones he believed in at all.

He has always believed solely in you.

#quackity fluff #quackity fanfic #quackity scenarios #quackity angst #mcyt fanfiction #quackity x reader #quackity x you #mcyt x reader #pixiecap//

[comfyswitcherblanketfort]

hi! can I request a good old There Was Only One Bed fic, geraskier or any of the other witchers, maybe with a scary thunderstorm to spice things up? <3

Ya know I was gonna throw Eskel into the mix here but the idea grabbed me by the greasy messy bun and took off. Might do something with a forced witcher/bard cuddle puddle later but this demanded attention lol 

Thank you for the prompt! I hope you like it! 💖💖

Warnings: the thirst is real with this one fam, some pining, some idiots misinterpreting things, but all around pretty tame, kinda...

__________

Two weeks, four days, and about twelve hours give or take, had passed since Geralt and Jaskier had kissed. They were drunk off their asses and arguing and Jaskier couldn’t stop thinking about it. He almost wished he had been blackout drunk.

Geralt’s lips wouldn’t leave him in peace. They had been warm and a little wet with whatever it was he’d just taken a shot of and fuck his stubble grated against Jaskier’s chin in the best way. He’d been about to tackle Geralt and try to get him in a headlock, for what he couldn’t remember, but the witcher had grabbed him by the front of his chemise and held his head in his other hand, soft but firm. Just thinking about it made Jaskier’s head spin, he’s really not sure how he survived. 

He couldn’t tell if Geralt even remembered. Jaskier was the one to haul his ass up to their room at the end of the night and throw him onto one of the twin beds. He’d made a remark about how stupid drunk he must have been, emphasis on stupid, and that was that. So Jaskier didn’t mention it and kept his distance, more for his own sanity than Geralt’s comfort. 

They hadn’t shared a room, let alone a bed, since, but it was bound to happen again sometime.

Geralt had headed upstairs in the middle of Jaskier's set, thank gods, and Jaskier had found a few minutes of distracted bliss where he wasn’t fighting with his conscience… or a hard-on. It wasn’t his fault, Geralt was gorgeous. And it had been far too long since the bard had seen any action. 

He gladly took a shot, maybe two, from an appreciative barfly before heading upstairs to their room, doing his best to keep his head on straight. 

Geralt was already shirtless and unlacing his breeches when he came in, “Good crowd?”

Jaskier nodded, swallowing hard and regretting the shots as he felt the warm liquid already making his eyes heavy. He tossed the bag of coin on the dresser and snagged a loaf of bread out of his pack. He did his best not to think about it as Geralt readied for bed but the room was small and they were constantly bumping into each other as they fussed over their respective packs. 

Geralt’s skin was hot, or maybe Jaskier was just hyper-aware of it as they brushed past each other. This wouldn’t have been as much of a problem if the witcher didn’t sleep half-naked. Jaskier could have just taken a deep breath, like he had been doing for the last two weeks, and will his mind and body to behave. But the way Geralt’s muscles moved under his scars and those sinful little lines of muscle pointing down to his smalls had the bard hypnotized and now that he knew what he tasted like? He was well and truly fucked. 

Jaskier jumped in bed as soon as he could, forgoing his usual nighttime routine in favor of curling up to face the wall (providing cover in case his body decided to rebel against him at some point). He was angry at himself, this was something he would have expected out of the pubescent Jaskier, not a grown man with self-control. About his best friend mind you! But it was understandable if his best friend had kissed him… and looked like that… and made him feel safe… and almost wanted… right?

Geralt slid in bed behind him not long after, shoulder firmly pressed to Jaskier’s back as if it wasn’t causing the bard’s heart to pick up pace.

“Jask?”

“Geralt?”

“Are you mad at me?”

Jaskier sighed, twisting his shoulders to look at Geralt, “Why ever would I be upset with you?”

Geralt frowned, still looking at the ceiling, “You’ve been quiet… and avoiding me.”

“Just feeling off, dear.” the bard was surprised to see genuine hurt cross Geralt’s features when he finally looked at him.

“Then you’re scared?”

“Oh, Geralt,” Jaskier almost felt a lump in his throat as he turned to face him, making sure he knew he was absolutely serious, “I will never be, and have never been, scared of you. Never.”

“Then why is your heart doing that?” Geralt’s voice was the highest Jaskier had ever heard it.

He closed his eyes, pushing the taste of his bedmate’s lips out of his mind as best he could before he lied, “It’s nothing Geralt.”

The witcher looked close to tears as he fixed his gaze on the ceiling once again, “I’m sorry for kissing you. I would have said something sooner but I didn’t think you remembered… I’ll- I’ll sleep on the floor tonight.” 

Jaskier’s hand shot out and held his shoulder down as his mind caught up, “You remember?”

Geralt cocked his head to the side, “Yes.”

Jaskier’s heart was racing in earnest now as he propped himself up in his elbow, “And you thought I was upset over it?”

Geralt nodded, looking for all the world like a kicked puppy.

“Shit, we’re stupid. Come here,” Jaskier trapped Geralt’s chin between his thumb and forefinger, leaning down till their noses were almost touching, “kiss me, you idiot.”

Geralt tilted his chin up to connect their lips and oh that was so much better sober. Or mostly sober. 

Jaskier brushed the backs of his fingers along Geralt’s jaw, drawing a soft sigh from his witcher that made his whole body sing. Geralt’s hands found his waist and pulled him on top of himself, running his hands up and down Jaskier’s back, making sure to dig his fingertips into the flesh of his hips. 

“Mm!” Jaskier pulled back when that grip sent a lightning bolt straight to his cock, “You’re-” he gasped a little when Geralt busied his lips by placing tender kisses along his chin and neck, “didn’t know you were into men.”

“M’into you.” Geralt hummed, sucking on a patch of skin over Jaskier’s pulse point and quickly licking the spot to soothe the sting.

The bard laughed cupping Geralt’s face with one hand, propping himself up on his other elbow to get a better look at his face, “So when I tell you I’ve been avoiding you because I can’t stop thinking-” he paused to give his witcher a quick peck, “-about your lips…”

Geralt grinned and leaned up to press their foreheads together, “Neither could I,” he whispered.

Jaskier had no choice, he had to wipe that look off Geralt’s face before it killed him. He bracketed the witcher’s hips with his knees and trapped Geralt’s jaw between his hands, pulling him in for a deep kiss loaded with every bit of yearning and desperation he could muster. Geralt was the one to swipe his tongue along Jaskier’s lips, but the bard was most definitely the one to take full advantage. One hand snaked into that snow-white hair as their tongues danced and fought for dominance, ending the struggle with a light tug that had Geralt moaning into Jaskier’s mouth. 

“Oh? Enjoying yourself wolf?”

Geralt gripped him around the waist and flipped them over almost effortlessly, grinding his hips down over Jaskier’s “Immensely,” he breathed, leaning on his elbows on either side of the bard’s head, “Now shut up and kiss me.”

#geraskier #there was only one bed #😱 #geraskier fic #only one bed geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #the witcher #the witcher fic #idiots to lovers #god these boys are stupid

[innaminitus]

Lake

Pairing: Geralt x reader

Request: so Geralt saved y/n’s father many years ago and he called the law of surprise?? The surpsise being of course y/n and Geralt comes for her may years later when she is an adult and a sexy woman? and smut? or somethign like that THANKS! (from anon)

Warnings: smut 

Word count: 2221

A/N: toss a coin to your witcher is my new jam also i am very proud of poland finally having a decent witcher series (ale żebrowski na zawsze w naszych sercach) 

You were kneeling on the ground and just staring at him. That was basically your favourite thing to do since he called the law of surprise and took you from your home on your 23rd birthday two weeks ago. Just in time, as it turned out, since a day later the entire town you’ve lived in was slaughtered.

You just liked to look at him, that’s all. He was very handsome, after all. It was the only selfishness you could allow yourself for.

“Why are you staring at me?” He asked, his eyes still closed.

Your body didn’t even bother to blush. You weren’t intimidated by him.

“Because I can.”

A ghost of a smile showed on his face, but he still didn’t open his eyes.

“See anything interesting?”

Lots of things.

“A bug in your hair.” You reached to his silver, tangled hair and picked up a beetle that lost its way from the grass. The bug run away to the bushes. “I’ll go pick up some berries.”

You stood up and fixed your dirty dress.

“I’ll go with you,” he sighed and began to stand up, but you stopped him.

“I’m an adult, I can take care of myself,” you said, already turning away and walking to the berry bushes.

“Hmm. I doubt that…”

It wasn’t a long walk, barely five minutes away from the clearing you stopped on for the night. Last evening you’ve seen them almost bursting with juice and couldn’t stop thinking about them since.

Once you’ve reached them you kneeled and started to pick them up, carefully, not to squash them with your fingers. One after another they landed in your basket, which was soon full. You stood up, stretching your back, hurting from bending too long.

“Are you done?”

You didn’t hear him walk, so, naturally, you got scared from the sudden voice behind you. You jumped, and, naturally, tripped, falling with your face right in the bushes full of berries. And, naturally, throwing your basket at the man.

With a squeak you turned, trying to sit up, and when you managed to do so, you took the hand Geralt offered.

“I’m sorry, you scared me–“

A short laugh escaped your lips when you saw him; his hair tinted purple from the berries that you threw on him, with parts of the fruits on his face and clothes.

He wasn’t having as much fun as you, even though you were whole in berries and for sure had twigs in your hair.

“We need to go,” he just said, his jaw clenched as he wiped his face with a hand.

“I need a bath.” You wrinkled your nose. “And you, too.”

“We’ll stop at some lake or something, but now we need to go. I don’t want to spend another night here.”

*

The lake wasn’t very far, but it was far enough for the both of you to start stinking like fermented fruits and sweat. It was hot, not a single cloud on the sky, and even the protection the trees gave you wasn’t enough. Roach was barely walking in the heat, so you haven’t had the heart to ride on her.

You almost smelled the water with your senses, and run to the direction of the small lake as soon as you saw it, kicking off your shoes on the way.

The water was clear and inviting, and you forced yourself not to jump in it fully clothed. You tugged on the ribbons of your dress, but couldn’t manage to untie the corset-like back. It must’ve tangled at night.

“Geralt, can you help me with this?” You looked behind at the man guiding the horse to the water.

He silently walked to you and began to work with the ribbons. The feeling of his breath on your neck made you shiver. It seemed as if the day became even hotter.

You were trying to seduce him ever since you saw him, but he seemed not to notice it. You just weren’t sure if you were that bad at it, or if he just wasn’t interested in you. You very much hoped for the first one.

“Done,” he murmured, freeing you from the last ribbon and you didn’t hesitate to grab the material of the dress and throw it over your head, leaving you as naked as the gods have made you.

Your long hair almost touched your bottom, still leaving a nice view at it while you walked to the lake. You haven’t heard him move and the thought that he was watching you made the hotness between your legs more noticeable.

Cool water soothed your sunburnt skin, and you dived into it whole, sighing with relief, watching the berry stains melt into nothingness. The lake was shallow, in the deepest spot the water reached only your shoulders. You turned in the water to Geralt.

“Are you coming or what?” You asked, flicking your wet hair from your face.

“I’m fine.”

“You stink and have berries in your hair.”

“And I wonder whose fault is that….” he sighed and rolled his eyes, but eventually started to undress.

One layer after another the leathery parts of his clothes were abandoned on the ground, and when he took off the shirt you could shamelessly admire his muscly chest and arms. Gods he was so handsome… How could every part of him be so perfect?

“Turn around.”

It took you a second to realize he was talking to you. You blinked and your sight fell on his hand, untying the leather trousers.

“Did you turn around when I was naked?” You raised one eyebrow and immerged almost whole into water, leaving only your eyes and nose above the panel.

A smirk was all you got as an answer, but it was enough to tell you that he did not turn his gaze away.

“Y/N…” His voice was warning, but the smirk was still on his face.

“Fine.” You turned away, waving your hands in the water. “But that’s not fair.”

You heard him walk into the water and excitement overtook your body. That was probably your biggest achievement in the art of seducing; to have him naked not so far away from you.

“Can I turn now?”

“Yes.”

He was much closer than you expected him to be, but still what felt like miles away. You rinsed your hair, frustrated, doubting there was any way to actually be closer to him.

“You have leaves in your hair…” He smiled, watching you try to wash them out. “I’ll help you.”

He swam closer, and you hoped he didn’t see your blush. The clear water was transparent, and you could swear you saw him stare at your breasts for at least a second.

His fingers were more delicate than you would expect them to be when he took out the twigs and leaves, but it was the closeness of his warm chest that made you shiver. You wanted to kiss every bit of his skin, lick every scar and pain.

Your fantasies took too long. He already moved away.

Shit.

You immerged into water completely, hiding your frustration away. It was never going to happen, you had to face the truth. He wasn’t interested.

Unless he was.

You stood straight and swam a little further from him.

“Toss a coin to your Witcher,” you started to sing a song he hated so much. “Oh Valley of Plenty…”

He turned to you with anger.

“Stop it.”

“Oh Valley of Plenty, oooh.” You were swimming further and further.

“Y/N, I’m warning you, stop singing this cursed song.”

“Make me.” You smiled cockily and turned to swim. “Toss a coin to your–“ You squeaked as he swam to you incredibly fast and grabbed your waist from behind, his fingers on your lips silencing you.

“Shush.”

You could feel his scars on your stomach as he was holding you this tight. One step you could blame on clumsiness was enough to have your back fully pressed on his wide chest and his chin in your hair. You froze like this, afraid that any movement would cause him to let you go.

You were blissfully aware of every inch on your bodies touching; from the hand on your lips, his face in your hair, the hand on your belly, your back against his chest to the hard length pressed to the small of your back.

Hardlengthhardlengthhardlenght. Keep calm, Y/N.

His breathing was heavy, as if he was fighting with himself. You wanted him to lose the fight.

He twitched and quickly let you go. Only you didn’t plan on giving up.

You turned, put your hands on his shoulders and lifted yourself up, to press your lips onto his. Then again. And everything would be perfect if he only gave you the kisses back.

“Geralt–“

“Stop it,” he said, but didn’t push you away.

“Why?” Your faces were still so close your lips were touching when you talked.

“This is wrong.” He moved slightly, but you moved with him. “I am your guardian.”

“I don’t need a guardian. I can take care of myself.”

“Y/N–“

“Say you don’t want me and I’ll never touch you again,” you said, backing just a millimetre to be able to look him in the eyes. He just watched you, his jaw clenched, muscles working. “You can’t.” You smiled for a second.

“I can’t,” he admitted in a husky voice.

Your insides twirled.

Dear gods…

“Then why fight it?”

His lips captured yours, surprising you. You had to throw your hands around his neck not to fall deeper into the water when he almost sunk into you, arching your back with his strong arms around you. You sucked his bottom lip and received a groan before he pushed his tongue into your lips, and you didn’t bother to fight for dominance; this fight was already lost.

His hands slid down to your thighs and he lifted you up as if you weighed less than a feather, and walked out of the water, your lips still joined. He laid you on the grass, his lips travelled lower, to your jaw and neck, leaving wet trails to the valley of your breasts.

The ground felt as the finest of beds when he kissed you this way and flicked his tongue over your nipple just to caress another with his skilled fingers. A sigh escaped your lips when you pulled his white hair and forced him to kiss you again. His lips were so perfect on yours…

He positioned himself between your legs, lifting one of if by the crook of your knee and straightened slightly. He was eating you with his sight, every inch of you. Without taking his eyes from yours he kissed your leg just above the knee and with the other hand firmly held your hip to drag you closer. Your pussy was throbbing, you needed him to fill you or else you would probably gone mad. Thankfully he wasn’t going to keep you waiting any longer. He leaned to kiss you as he thrusted in you hard, causing you to gasp. He smiled cockily, biting your lower lip.

His member was dug deep inside of you, stretching your walls to the point where it hurt, but it was the most delicious pain of your life. He pulled off and thrusted back in, hand on your hip still pressing you onto the hard ground, but you didn’t mind, you almost didn’t feel it; the only thing you were able to feel was his cock reaching so marvellously deep and his lips on yours.

Your fingers got lost in his hair as he pounded wildly, fucking moans out of you. You kissed a silent curse from his mouth when he pressed on your leg, forcing it to spread even wider. Your muscles clenched at the new angle, you weren’t able to hold back his name as pleasure started to spread hot spots all over your body. Butterflies overtook your mind, you couldn’t think, you couldn’t speak, all you were able to do was to move your hips to his pace, to clench your muscles and shake when orgasm hit you like a wave and a loud moan woke probably every bird in the forest.

He wasn’t long behind; your movements brought him to the edge, he thrusted hard and gasped into your mouth, spilling himself deep inside of you.

Only when he let you go you could feel how indelicate he was with your body; and how much you’ve liked it. He collapsed next to you, panting.

“If I knew this damned song was enough for you to give up already, I would sing it days ago.”

“What?” He turned to you, resting on his elbow.

“Did you really not notice a thing?” You sat up and squirmed at the pain of sore muscles.

“Believe me, I noticed,” he snorted. “Only I never thought that was what you meant… It took my whole strength not to claim you.”

You lied down, laughing.

“Men truly are clueless…”

He lifted himself on his elbow and leaned over you.

“I can show you how I am everything but clueless.” A smile ghosted on his face as you kissed him.

And this time you didn’t have to sing.

 ___

tag list:

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#geralt x reader #witcher x reader #geralt x you #the witcher smut #geralt smut #witcher x you #geralt x y/n #witcher x y/n #geralt of rivia x reader #witcher smut #the witcher #witcher

[valdomarx]

so i kno everyone in fics loves to make jaskier like super chatty during sex b/n him and geralt which i get but i think since a majority of geralt’s sexual partners are sex workers who’s job is to please and titillate their company, he would have picked up some really good dirty talking skills? and before their first time together, jaskier assumes sex w/ geralt will be a fairly quiet affair (for the witcher @ least) but then geralt is dropping the filthiest lines in the bard’s ear

It’s a night like any other: a small town tavern, a rambunctious crowd cheering for his filthiest songs, a little more ale than is strictly advisable. With his performance complete and coin collected, Jaskier heads over to join Geralt at the table in the corner.

Except this night is not like any other, because on this night, for some utterly unknown but most definitely welcome reason, instead of letting him sit on the bench Geralt pulls Jaskier into his lap, fingers digging into his hips with just a touch too much force to be called playful. Jaskier barely has time to huff out a little oh of surprise before Geralt buries his face into his neck and inhales, possessive and carnal.

“You smell goddamn intoxicating,” Geralt growls, and it’s just as well Jaskier is sitting because his knees go watery at that. “Want me take you to bed?”

Jaskier’s mind comes screeching to a shocked halt, but luckily his mouth has never needed his brain’s input to function. “Hell yes,” he answers, far too fast to pretend he hasn’t been dreaming about this for fucking years. He has no idea where this has come from but he isn’t going to waste this opportunity. “Posthaste and with great enthusiasm, my dear witcher.”

Geralt growls, and Jaskier feels the reverberations through his chest. He stands and practical drags Jaskier up the stairs to their room, and Jaskier has never been happier to be manhandled.

Jaskier is expecting – well, he’s spent more time than he’d like to admit fantasising about this, so he has quite the variety of scenarios plotted out in his head – but broadly, he’d expected Geralt to be as taciturn in sex as he is in every other part of his life. He’d imagined coaxing soft gasps from Geralt’s mouth, little choked-off moans, perhaps, grunts of effort as they fucked.

He had never imagined Geralt tossing him onto the bed like he weighs nothing, pinning him down, and moving to whisper in his ear: “I’ve been waiting for this for a long time, bard.” Geralt grinds against him, and he’s obviously both huge and hard, and Jaskier counts his blessings. “Do you know what is does to me, watching you perform those dirty songs? Listening to you sing about all those filthy things?” Geralt nips at his ear and Jaskier hisses. “I’ll give you something to sing about.”

Jaskier is going to come back with a witty response to that, he really is, but Geralt precedes to ripping both of their clothes off and Jaskier is thoroughly distracted by all that muscle and, looking down, all that cock. “Gods, Geralt,” is what he manages, his voice shaky.

Geralt chuckles, the smug bastard. “Silver tongue deserted you? No matter. I bet we can find another use for your mouth.”

They do. Jaskier nearly chokes a few times, but let it never be said he isn’t willing to fully commit to a challenge once dealt. As he licks and sucks, Geralt tells him how much he wants this, how good it feels, how he’s thought about this so many times as he’s brought himself off, and Jaskier is clearly no blushing virgin but the words coming out of Geralt’s mouth make even his cheeks heat.

“Such a talented mouth,” Geralt says, heaving Jaskier back up to face level and wiping a thumb along his bottom lip. “Now I’m going to open you up, wait until you’re good and wet and loose and begging for it, and then you’re going to ride my cock like the hungry slut we both know you are. Sound good?”

Jaskier’s throat is raw. He makes a noise like mgnnahhh which they both know means abso-fucking-lutely yes.

And while he sets about his task, Geralt keeps talking. “Is this what you wanted?” he asks as he teases at Jaskier’s rim. “You’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you?” as he twists a finger inside, making him clench and moan. “Taking it so well, you’re going to feel amazing around my cock,” as he slides a third finger in, and all the breath leaves Jaskier’s lungs in one great huff.

By the time Geralt deems him ready and pulls him into his lap, sweat is pooling on Jaskier’s brow and fire is racing under his skin with the need for it. “Are we ever going to get to the action?” he pants, doing his best to wrestle back some control of this situation. “Or are you just gonna talk me off all night?”

Geralt shows his teeth. “Little bard, what makes you think I can’t do both?”

#geraskier #geralt x jaskier #the witcher #*heavy breathing* #u really... got me with this prompt anon... u got me good #anonymous #my writing #nskf #let filth night commence! #george replies

[yoondoze]

coin toss | jjk

you and jeongguk go way back, even before you were the menacing duo many knew you to be, even before he brought you into the mafia and left you there to join the city’s detective agency. a call for cooperation comes out of a common enemy, requiring the two of you to reconcile for one last mission.

pairing: jeon jeongguk x reader

word count: 25.4k

genre: soft and hard angst, mafia/detective agency au, complicated exes (?)

warnings: language, violence, blood, character death, sexual implications, little bit of gore, jimin has a weird hatred of yoongi idk don’t take it seriously, mentions of torture, grief, too many italics

a/n: long time no see everyone, hope you’re doing well! this story was inspired by my favorite anime, bungou stray dogs (it’s got a soukoku type beat & you’ll recognize some structures). it’s my first back in a while, and it’s also the longest piece i’ve written, so i hope you all enjoy it! <3

To be called to the Boss’s office for a quick word is almost always a sealed exit ticket from this world. One, because regular meetings of necessity are always held in the boardroom and discussed amongst the executives. Two, one on one meetings mean no witnesses. You’ve been there once before and barely made it out alive. To make it out a second time? The chances are practically nonexistent. 

The room feels less like an office and more like an 18th-century study, a dark academia dream with the coffee-toned furniture and ceiling-high shelves stacked with books. The only sign of modernity is the pristine silver laptop sitting perfectly on his desk. The guards to the side of the room look straight ahead, no indication of how this will end for you.

“My dear, good to see you,” The Boss purrs, eyelids falling into tender crescents as you place yourself gently on the cushion of his ornate bergère. Typically there are two of a kind that sit across from his dark oak bureau, but at this moment one has been removed from the space so yours could be positioned parallel to his own chair. 

The Boss has an intimidating air about him. From the gentle yet feline-like movements that look like they mask something sinister, to his signature verbosity that’s almost professorial, he’s the perfect paradigm of a godfather.

“And you, Boss. It’s been a while.” You maintain a cool tone, not breaking his eye contact. He was a dog that could smell fear and would drag it out of you if he thought it could sate his twisted desire for control.

He sighs as his cheshire smile fades. “I don’t like beating around the bush, as I’m sure you know. You... must have heard the rumors of a third party organization stepping foot in this city, yes?”

The whispers started only days ago, and the most you heard was only an assumption from another underling at the bar. Considering how much people loved to gossip and how boring it got around here, you were just going to brush it off. However, if it was enough to bring you here, it had to be something worth your attention.

“Yes, it’s been floating around.” You clear your throat. “Is it something to be worried about?”

He puts his elbows on the table and clasps his hands together, sucking a breath through his teeth. “This has happened before, when a new group tries to disrupt our hold on the functioning of our territory, and we have always squashed them from the picture quietly. But unfortunately, those who call themselves the Syndicate play dirty.”

It seems as if things were not heading in the track you imagined when being escorted on the long walk here. But then he orders the guards at the sides of the room out, and your heart jumps to your throat.

As the large doors close behind them, he resumes talking.

“Last week, twenty-two of our men were killed and one taken during a weapons exchange with a western group...who we thought were a western group. All they left behind was a handful of playing cards.” His wrist flicks up suddenly, a black card tucked between his two fingers. The shine on the back glints under the dim lamplight. He stares in disdain.

The nervous habit of jumbling your fingers started up in your lap, asking, “Who was it?”

“Underlings of the Syndicate,” he brushes past, holding up a single finger before continuing, “The key is that the missing one was a trusted man in our central intelligence unit. He was carrying knowledge of our expansion plans within the next year. When backup came, he was gone. Intelligence then reported that the Syndicate was also responsible for the crisis of our allies in the Midwest, Fox Lodge, two years ago. And a year before, the Federacy in Europe. They crumbled in a matter of weeks.”

The man sweeps his dark hair from his forehead, an undetectable motive flaring in his eyes, the one person you could never read. 

“Simply,” he shrugs, “this fish is too big to fry on our own.”

You couldn’t help but swallow. “And that means…?”

“I’ve spoken to the director of the Detective Agency. A temporary ceasefire has been agreed upon... Similar interests, a common enemy, you see.”

Existed an extensive list of things that did not have the capacity to surprise you anymore in this life. But a ceasefire? That was impossible; The Detective Agency and the Mafia had always been at odds like a fated grudge of the gods above. The fighting had been continuous for all your time spent in the organization.

“I know,” he nods, “It is a miraculous thought. But they have the resources and we have the manpower. While it would be great to let Syndicate take them out for us, we would ultimately be next on their list. Cooperation is our best bet.”

And the thought of what this conversation may be coming to strikes you like lightning on waiting sand. “I thought you didn’t approve of betting, Boss.”

“Hmm… I see you’ve caught on,” he says pensively, a smile rising on his face as fast as it disappears. “This gamble is one I have much faith in. It used to be our ace in the hole, you remember?”

Weakly, you mumble, “I do.”

“You must realize that our situation is grave. I would not suggest it if there was another way. In the kindest manner I can put it, dear, your willing partnership is required.”

And there’s the kicker, the whole reason why. A sick feeling seethes in the pit of your stomach, makes you want to gag or throw up or pass out. You have a choice, of course, but not a real choice. To clarify, it was agree, or be squashed out quietly, as Boss liked to say. On the off chance you would choose death over discomfort, he had to call you to his office for safe measure. 

“I understand, Boss,” is all you could manage. 

“I’m glad,” he smiles. “Though we have all turned a bit sour since Jeon’s departure, I’m sure you are capable of uniting for the sake of our city. I wouldn’t mind if you killed him after the mission is complete, either, but I will leave that up to your judgment.”

The name is awkward coming off his tongue, even with the chuckle he throws in to lighten the mood, implying an air of distance and estrangement. 

Jeon. That bastard. The thought of working with him… incredible. It was silly of you to think that you’d never see him again while fighting for control of the same city, but there you were, awestruck and in embarrassing shock. “Thank you, Boss. I’ll do what is needed.”

“Get some rest. I’ll be calling a meeting tomorrow with the other executives and we will talk about the plan. You are excused.”

With an obedient nod, you are lifting yourself from the chair and heading toward the door, the sound of your heels muted on his burgundy carpet.

“Oh, and dear?”

You pause, turning your head over your shoulder and clearing your throat. “Yes?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you watch as he traces his thumb along the blade of his knife, glinting in the dim glow of the moonlit window. “You know I trust you.”

“Yes, sir.”

Without a falter in his expression, he makes a swift movement with his wrist. Before you can blink, the blade flies past your ear and lodges itself in the door in front of you. “Don’t make me regret it.”

A threat not to be taken lightly.

“Of course.”

As you tread down the hallway on your way out, you can't help but chastise yourself. How dumb could you be? Of course he would try to intimidate you like that. Any other day, you could have sensed it and caught it before it even parted with his palm. That was how it was supposed to be, as the renowned Scorpion, right? Was the thought of Jeon and having to see him again so debilitating that you let your guard flounder like that? Pathetic.

Hopefully he’d only take it as a slip-up. Take it as a respectful allowance and understanding as opposed to weakness. If you were losing your skills, your value was lost, as was your privilege to live.

The ride back to your apartment is the worst you had in years. Even the radio station you listen to regularly for mind-numbing background noise has you wanting to burst. The traffic lights make you want to scream, the sound of the air pushing past the open window has you bubbling with fury, the blinking advertisements circulating building perimeters driving your mind blank. Somewhere in a moment of clarity, you know it all starts with fear. 

Truth was, you and Jeon were partners once. In crime, the trump card the Mafia put down to play dirty, no way to get around you. In tandem, a menacing duo, the bold and the lethal, the Lion and the Scorpion. In the sheets, from time to time, after a few too many drinks or a few too many flirty looks on a sober night. Two sides of the same coin. But that was then, in a different time and a different world, and in a way that you hated how your mind had retained him so perfectly in his bitter absence.

☆☆☆

To be honest, the atmosphere of the first meeting really couldn’t have been any better than expected. It’s the furthest thing from civil, of course, but it can be considered a blessing that everyone participating was still breathing.

For protective purposes, office space had been rented out for a few hours for the intents of the meeting. There were only eight of you gathered in the small space; From the Mafia, the four top executives and from the Agency, the VP and three head advisors. One of them, none other than Jeon himself. The president and the boss stayed out for this meeting in an attempt to lower the tension, which was certainly an effort taken. Personal affairs mixing in would have resulted in at least one dead body within the first thirty seconds.

While there is some sort of discussion occurring around you, you are only focusing on how pathetic you feel in that you’re actively avoiding Jeon, as well as the discomfort in the pit of your stomach that appeared as soon as he did. You always thought that you’d be strong and bold the next time you met, but now that the time has come, you’ve let yourself down. Seeing him face to face after all this time is a reminder of everything you’ve been pushing to the back of your mind for years.

Meanwhile, Jeongguk isn’t sure what the playing field looks like just yet. He’s resting his head on his fist, sneaking a glance at you when he can and wishing you’d speak up so he’d have a good reason to look at you for longer than a blink, but you’re awfully quiet. He hates to think it might be because of him.

“We received an anonymous tip this morning about an underground base in the Coral District. Supposedly, there are multiple entrances from bars in the surrounding area, creating a tunnel system.” Namjoon, the VP, pushes his glasses up and closes the manila folder in his hands he had been referencing. “As our only lead, I think it is in our best interest to take a look.”

Namjoon is by far the most uptight man you had ever met. A little pretentious, of course, but in a way that almost made him cute. His calculative nature made him a good asset, but you couldn’t imagine how much of a bore he must have been in his daily life. You could bet without a doubt that he had been the most opposed to collaboration - if not by the countless moments he had spent sighing in your past encounters, then surely by how his condescending tone went into overdrive the second he sat down.

Yoongi, one of your fellow executives, states plainly, “That means nothing.” He seems more focused in the dirt tucked beneath his fingernails than the meeting at hand.

“It’s anonymous. For all we know they’re trying to trick us,” adds Yeji, personality plagued with suspicion. She doesn’t want to be here as much as you do, but she’s trying. Yeji is scrutinizing and not impressed by the image of naivety that stems from such a simple deduction, and that’s on top of her personal problem with the righteous narrative of the detective agency. You don’t blame her.

“And for all we know, it could be useful. The people of this city are our eyes and ears.” Jimin shoots back, stare unwavering. “It’s not like we should just ignore it. Do you have anything better?”

The strain in the air is almost unbearable, pulling up the hairs on your arms with all the tense energy circulating. It’s as if lightning was about to strike any second. No one says another word, only dirty looks being exchanged between headstrong personalities until a defiant knock comes to the door, startling the aggression into temporary submission. Taehyung raises an eyebrow at you, the only movement he had made this entire time. You only shrug at him.

“Who is it?” Namjoon asks, standing from the table.

“Just clean up. I’m here to take out the trash.” Silence engulfs the space like a dense fog hanging in the air, until the man behind the door calls again, “It’ll only be a second.”

Hesitantly, Namjoon makes the call for him to come in. All eyes flick over to the man, who cautiously enters the room with a nervous laugh. He is clueless to what he’s walking into. He waves a hand of greeting before fetching the bin from the corner of the room, taking it to the main dump on wheels in the hallway. After a few shuffles and plunks, he comes back in to put it in its place.

Namjoon adjusts his tie and clears his throat as he sits down again, resuming the meeting.

“I don’t care what we do as long as we can be done with this,” Taehyung mumbles, resting his head on his palm with half-mast eyes. He’s practically falling asleep, like a cat resting in the sunbeams pouring through a window.

Wendy, another advisor, rolls her eyes at him, responding with a scoff, “Of course you don’t care…”

“Oh, like you’re such a saint.”

The boardroom erupts into yet another argument, different groups spitting words at their own personal targets. All you can do is sit and listen, your hope for this mission decreasing exponentially as the seconds tick by. At least if it didn’t work out, you won’t have to see Jeon again after this.

“Creep,” mutters Yeji under her breath from the chair next to you. She had been removing herself from the argument like you save for a few special dramatic sighs and trivial insults that you didn’t condone, but didn’t exactly scold her for either. After all, she is the closest thing you have to a best friend.

“Huh?” you inquire wisely. “Who?”

She tilts her head to the hallway. Your head whips around to see the janitor through the walls of windows walking away with a peculiar bounce in his step, one he most certainly did not arrive with.

“What’s his problem?” you whisper, leaning in.

“I don’t know, but he was laughing to himself while they were arguing. He’s probably just another weirdo,” she snubs with a sigh. “You know how people are in this city.”

Though you had a slight feeling of discomfort from the commencement of the meeting, since stepping foot in the lobby of the building even, you simply brushed it off as paranoia, or nervousness from who you were about to see. But it just seems too strange to ignore anymore. Wasn’t the building supposed to be completely empty today, aside from those in the conference taking place right now? Your instincts scream at you through a closed mouth, wariness freezing your limbs, but why?

You hold your hand up discreetly as you stare at the simply dark grey bin across the room. It’s the only thing that seemed out of place - besides the meeting table and chairs, the room is completely empty. The pristine board room, black and grey and sparkling clean. And then, the cheap plastic bin.

The argument settles when Yeji whistles, getting their attention. 

“What’s wrong?” Wendy asks obliviously before you shush her with a raise of your pointer. All focus zeroes in on the bin… and that barely noticeable line trailing from it to the door handle.

One tick is all you need to hear.

“We gotta go, now,” you state, standing up hurriedly from your chair. Chatter and confusion ensue again as you drag it behind you over to the floor-length window. You pause, narrowing your eyes at the distance down from the second story. Considering there were no other exits from the room and you suspected that no one here was a part of the bomb squad, it was the only way to go. You drawback, hands gripping tightly around the armrests and hoist it up, swinging it around your side. it effectively shatters the glass, the piercing noise as shards clatter to the floor making you squint. 

“Woah, woah, what are you doing? Do you know how much that’s gonna coast?” Namjoon shouts, becoming frantic as you further knock the glass out from the surrounding area.

“They knew where we were. Look at the bin,” you explain quickly. Their surveillance of you averts to where you had been looking moments before, realization dawning as their sight finds the transparent cord set tight.

“Taehyung, you first.” The boy trails to the make-shift exit without question, blond locks bouncing in front of his face as he hurries over. Carefully, with a hand on the frame, he peers out to see what he’s working with. He’s made do with worse before. He lowers himself out onto the ledge one foot at a time, cautious not to cut himself on the jagged glass poking out. With a deep breath, he commits to the jump and launches off, landing cleanly on the flower beds below.

He cranes his neck up to you with disgust written all over his features.

“It’s new still,” he complains with a frown, toeing the dark mulch which must be fresh and with a rotten stench. You don’t have the time to admonish his behavior as you usher the others out, keeping an eye on the bin and the hallway. Yeji is out next, hitting the ground lightly with Taehyung’s guiding arms.

You fish a compact walkie from your pocket, tossing it down to her. “Find the janitor. Evacuate anyone else you see. Channel Six.” She catches it with ease, only providing a nod before sprinting off around the corner, ponytail whooshing behind her. Namjoon, now on the ground with Jimin, spares a word with him before Jimin takes off after Yeji to catch up. 

“You run a well-oiled machine, Y/N. I’m impressed.” Jeon’s voice from beside you grabs your attention, to which you can only hold his eyes for a moment before breaking it off. He stands smugly with his arms crossed in front of him.

He immediately cringes internally at the way it comes out. It was just supposed to be a compliment, genuinely, but the tinge of complacency in his voice took it all away. The way you don’t respond clamps his heart, but only pushes out more awful dialogue with an inappropriately playful tone.

“What, you’re just gonna ignore me?

Swallowing your nerves, you insist, “Get down.” Now, of all times, he chooses to chat you up? The chipper attitude had your nails imprinting half-moons to the base of your palm.

But he can’t stop himself. Even as he reads your growing impatience, he acts like a whiny toddler, emphasizing, “No, no, ladies first of course.”

“Get down.”

He’s trying not to let your firm edge get to him, playing it off with, “God, so cold. You’re hurting my feelings-” “Get down, Jeongguk!”

The once fluid movement of the world slows as you shout at him, your own voice becoming muted as you listen for it. A blinding light bursts from across the room, ripping through the walls and bursting the glass like balloons, growing brighter and brighter as you watch. In a split second you’re falling, tearing through open air while barely sensing your entanglement in something soft before hitting the ground with a blunt stop.

He had pulled you into him instinctively as the blow forced him off his feet, but the regret is instant in Jeon’s mind as he struggles to move. Not for grabbing you, but for the stupid words he couldn’t close the dam on as they poured out. The threat completely left his mind in the effort to get you to respond to him. He wants to smack himself, but his body hasn’t had the chance to recoup yet. 

You groan, body practically frozen in ache. Rolling off of him, you rub your lids and scratch the hair out of your face, looking up to see smoke pouring out of where you just stood moments before. Jumping to your feet, you brush the small shards of glass from your clothes and ignore the dizziness, aiming to put as much distance between the building and you as you could, but not before pulling a disoriented Jeon to his feet to take him with you. He’s coughing and clutching at his rib, your weight hitting him as an extra beating once he had landed.

Collapsing on the curb out front, you try to catch your breath. That bastard. If it weren’t for his necessity to uphold such a jackass mentality, you wouldn’t have needed the extra painful push out of the building. Without even needing to look, the sound echoing alone let you know that the building was collapsing in on itself. While you can’t feel it now because of the adrenaline, you know you’ll be hurting later.

A muffled noise comes from the walkie in your back pocket. It’s Yeji, who is suspiciously breathing fine as her heavy footfalls transmit as loud as her voice, reporting, “Finally caught up to him. It looks like he’s heading to Coral District, we’re on his tail but we don’t know what we’re going into!”

The device jumbles in your shaky hand as you scramble to get back to her. “We’re on our way, don’t worry. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t.” 

You bring yourself to your feet, your fleeting moment of recovery already gone.

“Namjoon, can you stay behind for cleanup? Rest of us will catch up to Yeji. You heard her, right?”

He nods solemnly, and you suppose the blast to the building also was one to his ego. His notorious calculative nature had failed him this time around with that poisonous hatred in the way. Maybe he’ll reference it next time.

You think that Jeon is going to come up with another snarky comment to make, but all he does is pinch his nose bridge and massage his temples. He chooses to stay behind also as you, Wendy, Taehyung, and Yoongi follow in quick pursuit. It’s no surprise that Yoongi, one of the most sloth-like yet efficient strong suits of the Mafia, is already pulling over a civilian vehicle to take. 

“Yeji, current location?” You ask into the radio, trying to keep up an acceptable trot behind the group.

It only takes a second for her voice to crackle back through. “Corner of Park Ave and Third. It’s weird though - he’s not just running away from us, he’s running to somewhere.”

Up ahead, Wendy is pushing Yoongi aside as she shows her ID to the astonished woman floundering for words, admirably commandeering the car rather than stealing. No surprise, but smart nonetheless. One less lawsuit to worry about.

It only takes a second to envision a mental map of the city. The Corner of Park and Third is heading toward an unfamiliar side of town. What was even over there? The subway station, a shopping center? No place plausible for a bar, and definitely not near the Coral district. There was no place you could think of he might be leading them to - unless, of course, he was leading them away from something.

In fact, his direction is almost exactly opposite from…

“Tae!” you shout, just as he’s getting into the car. “Corner of Park Ave and Third. Get on your walkie, I’m taking a detour!”

He tips his head back in understanding as he jogs backwards to the car, soon ducking in slamming the door shut behind him, the car speeding off with a squeal. The thought of being in that car with them makes you shudder, but it’s not like where you’re off to is any better.

The location is printed on the backs of your lids in vermilion red ink. You had to know it regardless of whether you were a frequent visitor or not, because being aware of your surroundings when doing the kind of work required for your job was just as necessary as the job itself. You couldn’t be making arms deals in the alleys behind the Detective Agency unless you were aiming to spend some time behind bars.

Your heart drops as you round the corner to see the building absolutely sacked, your sprinting pace coming to a standstill with disappointment. A small crowd of people have surrounded the area, phones out to snap pictures and take videos. The windows lining the building are smashed in violently, and small plumes of smoke wisp their way out of what remains, the alarms that alerted no one still ringing. 

Light footsteps approach from behind you as your own step carefully over the glass to get a closer look. He’d been in his head for only a few minutes after you left, but when he saw you crossing back over to the other side of town, while he was stuck pathetically on the curb, it sparked his brain back up into working condition.

“Huh. Smart cookie,” states Jeon, seeming to finally be back to reality. Enough to make it here, anyway. In less than a second your blade is against his neck as a firm warning. All he does is smile cheekily, raising his palms up so you could see them.

“No need to be hostile,” he tries, hiding the way he gulps when you look away. “Just a compliment.”

“We are nothing more than work partners. I advise you to drop the act now,” you spit, sure you’d break your jaw with how hard your teeth were pressed against each other, hearing the sandpaper sound grinding in your ears. You lower the blade and tuck it away, exchanging it for your gun in hand as you approach the entrance.

It’s a mess inside. The walls are dented, desks broken, drawers and filing cabinets sprawled all over the floor. Random papers make a muddle of everything visible. The computer screens are cracked and wires mangled as if someone with a bad temper had taken a baseball bat to them. Even the potted plants had been bashed in, fragments of terracotta and clumps of dirt spread out everywhere. 

“Was anyone working?” you ask, fingers tracing over the splintered edges of the welcome desk.

“No,” replies Jeon, in awe of the state of the office. “The President doesn’t come in, and two of our teams are off carrying out other tasks. We sent our office staff home to keep them out of danger.”

Not one thing untouched. Such great care was taken to ruin every piece of the space - but when no one was home. If the office staff were here, would they have hurt them? Or was it a purposeful decision in favor of the empty building?

Jeon’s shoulders slump, bottom lip jutting from his pout. Upon your questioning brow, he says, “They took my octopus pen.” He stares longingly down at what you assume is his desk, or what was his desk.

You squint in confusion, about to prompt further explanation, but Taehyung comes in through the radio. “We caught the janitor. Don’t know anything yet, but he’s being taken into police custody. We looked for the tunnels, but there’s nothing so far. I think it was a misdirect.”

“I think it was too,” you sigh. “The DA was ransacked.”

The waves flatten into grey static. You can picture the confusion that was rising among the group with Tae’s relay of information. When it comes back on, it is a different voice.

“Ransacked, you said? How bad?” It’s Wendy, the panic blatant on her tongue.

“Everything in it was destroyed…” you say, knowing this was just as much a loss for you as it was them. “They knew where we were and bombed us, and then led us on a chase so they could eliminate one of our bases. Let the others know and we’ll regroup later.”

“Copy that,” says Yoongi shortly, and that ends the exchange.

One of your strongest pieces was impressively knocked off the board. There was no way to get the building back in operating shape in the time span you had to eliminate the threat. While you still had their people and outside resources, the building was essential to the functioning of the agency, and the city along with it. If they had already taken down the home base of the detectives, wouldn’t the Mafia be next? Granted, there was no one set base, but things would surely get fishy if you didn’t act fast. Like Boss said, Fox Lodge crumbled in mere weeks. Whatever your opinion was, you couldn’t deny the Mafia was integral in monitoring the underground of the city, and letting control fall into the hands of such self-serving villains would be far worse than anything already occurring. 

Jeon sighs loudly from across the room, spinning on his heels to catch your gaze. He tsks and sweeps a stray strand of hair behind his ear with a delicate hand. “What are you thinking?”

You hum in thought. “It’s a warning,” you conclude, observing the rows of overthrown furniture. “They wanted to show what they’re capable of. Intimidation.”

He purses his lips innocently. “...What next?”

“I don’t know everything, Gguk,” you snap, sending him a fierce glare. “The Agency has to figure out what’s missing, if anything, and then we’ll go from there. Try to figure out a motive or something.”

You’ve been asking for a challenge for years, always unsatisfied with the ease it took to get your way. Laying in bed wide awake all night wanting things to be different, wanting things to have meaning. But with the high stakes, with so much at risk, this was certainly not what you intended.

You have to reassure yourself that you’re capable regardless. Once you get in the rhythm, surely things will be fine. Surely you’d get yourself together and pull through for the sake of the town. When you’ve been biting your nails and staring blankly at a ripped magazine for who knows how long, Jeon interrupts you again.

“Y/N?” The way he speaks your name is gentle and soft, a fondness to it that never failed to pluck at your heartstrings. It’s that special quiet tone of his that you haven’t heard in so long yet could always recall so clearly. It’s a sign of candor coming your way. “It’s good to see you.”

And it boils your blood.

“The park by the marina. Tomorrow at five. Don’t be late.”

☆☆☆

Penny has already started making dinner when you step through the door, just about to slump against the hardwood floor and resign yourself to the eternal slumber. Though she’s only ten, her palate is more tasteful that yours was last year. In times like these, you are grateful for the way she takes care of you sometimes. 

“You look tired,” she observes, sparing you a welcome look over her shoulder as she stirs the contents of her pot.

“That would be because I am,” you breathe a huff of laughter, slowly and carefully sliding off your jacket as to not irritate your sore muscles more than necessary. Taking a peek into the pot, your brain allows you a taste of serotonin that you welcome with open, starved arms. “Fettuccine alfredo? Pen, that’s my favorite.”

A small smirk appears on her face at your amazement. “I know.”

You plant a chaste kiss at the top of her head. “You need a trim soon, kiddo. Can barely see your eyes anymore.”

“That makes me look more mysterious though, doesn’t it?” She allows herself a giggle before turning off the heat, giving the pasta one last mix before transferring it to the two identical bowls on the counter. Her technique is a little awkward as her arms reach up to maneuver the tongs, but that’s to be expected of a kid who hasn’t fine tuned her motor skills just yet. Your mouth is absolutely watering as you fumble through the draws for two forks and some sort of napkin.

She hops up on the stool next to you and digs in, splattering sauce all over her chin nonetheless, but as long as she was fed and having fun.

Taking Penny in was by far the best decision you had made with what your life had come to. It was about two years ago when you stumbled upon her crying in a back alleyway during a job, her parents' lives the casualties suffered in a drug trade gone wrong. Further than that, you didn’t pry. You had those moments, too, the ones that felt better tucked inside a secret place in your heart.

Your only option was to take her with you. While he was incredibly beneficial to the Mafia, Yoongi was also hopelessly cold-blooded. He wanted to kill her to end the trail, to avoid suspicion directed at the organization. You ultimately made the call, because while what you did for a living was in no way guided by a moral compass, you still had your boundaries. Fortunately, it was just when you had gotten your current executive position and started making your fair share for the work you did - and while the both of you knew what went on outside of the apartment, inside was a safer space with more love than you could ever afford to show anywhere else. 

Housing people was one of the organization’s biggest costs. Most who joined did so out of necessity, whether they were out of work or a place to feel welcome. As long as you took care of her, it was an unspoken rule that they’d go easy on her. Occasionally they made her run errands and do deliveries, as children were an easy way to escape qualms from authorities. More often they used her for bait and leverage over those they needed the upper hand on; There’s no better way to manipulate someone than pretending a little girl’s life depends on their next decision. Usually it worked out the way they wanted and she was sent home, but there were times when you noticed bruises or scrapes adorning her thin arms, or hidden beneath her bangs. At least you could provide her with hope.

“So what went wrong today?”

Were you too obvious, or could she just read you inside and out?

You twirl the pasta on your fork before downing a big bite. 

“Got stuck in a pickle for the first time in a while. There’s a lot more on the table than I expected there to be.”

“Obviously,” she says, still shoveling her food down her throat. “I mean what happened?”

You sigh, letting yourself sink into your chair as you recount the order of events that unfolded today. Trying to simplify it as best as you can, you settle on, “I can’t say too much because I don’t want to get you in trouble, but it’s not just the Mafia and the Agency running things around here anymore, so there’s some collaboration going on right now that is getting tough to manage. And these new people moving in on the city… they’re smart. They led us on a goose chase today while they took out the DA.”

“Well, you’re smart too. You can manage it. You always do.”

“I know I’ll have to. It’s more the teamwork thing.” Mindless fingers tap at the countertop. “It was a little bit of a curveball they threw at me.”

“Is the curveball what caused all the bruises?” She looks at you slyly, a teasing simper just begging to make an appearance.

Your eyes roll breezily. “Yeah, it is.”

And all of a sudden the air turns quiet, her demeanor more timid. She looks to you for encouragement before she can even get the words out. With a small prompting nod, she asks, “Is… is it your old partner?”

An awkward chuckle bubbles its way out of your throat in surprise. “Um, yeah. How- how do you know about that?”

It’s a little bit of a shock. You don’t want to make her feel bad, but having this conversation is not one you are completely prepared for. Jeongguk, though his existence in your mind is stormy, is one of those things you always wish you could just keep to yourself, like a small love letter sealed in an envelope and tucked away under a mattress for you to pull out when you want to reminisce, but unfortunately everyone has read that letter and its contents seems to perpetuate underground gossip wherever you walk.

The atmosphere returns to normal when she shoots you a playful look, correcting it to the way it should have been. “I don’t just go to work and come back, you know, people talk to me. Especially some of the other kids my age. They sometimes mention how it’s so cool that I’m living with this legendary assassin, and they tell me supposed stories of… what was it, the Lion and the Scorpion? Yeah, and that he left.”

You bob your head along as she explains, somewhat in awe of her level of awareness of who you were outside of your relationship with her. The observant and lethal disposition you take on at work is a rude juxtaposition to the looser, lively personality you allow out at home. Above all, you wonder if she still thinks you’re cool.

“And what do you say?”

That she laughs at. “Well, it depends on the person who’s talking to me about it. Sometimes I say that you’re really scary and strict and sometimes if I like them I say that you’re really nice… I’m careful about it though, don’t worry. As long as you’re cool, I’m cool.”

Bingo!

“Hey, I trust your judgment,” you state through a mouthful of food, “I condone messing with people sometimes, and if it can harden my reputation around the place, I’ll take it.”

Lighthearted laughter ensues as you eat. The topic fades away and relief starts to take its place, but nothing good can ever last, can it?

“But Y/N…” she trails back, “Why is the Lion a curveball if you worked with him in the past?”

You click your tongue, tapping your fork at the bottom of your dish trying to stitch together the splinters of words floating around your mind into a cohesive answer.

“I’m sure some kids told you about the rumors,” you say, propping your elbow on the table to support your head as you looked at her. “But he and I… weren’t really just work partners.”

“You were dating?” She exclaims loudly, eyes widening. 

“Shh! No, no… well, kind of. But not really. Things were just a little bit more than work-related, that’s all. Listen, it’s not all black and white, and you’ll understand what I mean by when you start to care for people like that.”

“Well did you love him?”

She says it casually and straightforward, as if it didn’t weigh the emotional turmoil of years spent heartbroken and yearning. As if it’s that easy.

Penny’s expression floods full of curiosity. She is so investigative and eager, you wish she could be going to school and learning from real teachers that could give her a real education, not just snippets from your memories that you pulled up for her from time to time. If this wasn’t her life, you can’t imagine what she’d be doing because there’d simply be too many possibilities.

“Yeah, I did.”

And yet, as the words spill, you can’t not remember the pain of his desertion. You can’t not remember the one morning you woke up and he was gone, panic floating through the hallways about him, confusion and worry swirling in your head. Just to find out he had defected without giving you a clue. Not considering what it could mean for you. Not even a goodbye. 

“Do you still love him?”

You purse your lips, meeting her eyes softly. “That’s why I called him a curveball.”

Penny grasps on to the fact that that was the most she’d be getting from you today. It was a lot more than most days - you blame it on your tattered spirit from today’s tiring occurrences. She leads in the kitchen clean up, scooping the leftovers into tupperware for tomorrow’s meal and tossing her dishes in the outdated washer.

You pass behind her in the tight space, carrying your own empty dish with you. “You don’t repeat a word, got it?” you whisper.

She visibly sinks in vexation, head coming to a tilt as she stares at you. “C’mon, you just said you trusted my judgment! I’m almost insulted you feel the need to say that.”

You let yourself indulge in another laugh. The credit of her sharp vocabulary character no doubt belongs to your influence. “You know I have to.” Nuzzling the top of her hair, you add, “Don’t stay up too late. I love you.”

And for leading a life that was so cruel and devoid of light, crowded with guilt and regret, lacking most that makes you human, nothing ever felt more like home than when she says, “I love you too.”

☆☆☆

The next meeting is only better because of the fresh air separating both sides and the imminent fact that last time’s events have everyone so weary they can no longer think about arguing. It has started to sink in that this is no longer a piece of cake, or maybe that it never was to begin with. As well, a park full of citizens going on walks and taking their day slow is no place to expose yourself. It’s warm for spring, one of the nicest days you’ve had in a while, and you’d hate to ruin it.

There is a large circular expanse of white concrete with different pathways branching off into the park, green shrubbery lining each walkway. Pillars on both sides of each one hold up an awning providing much-appreciated shade. You no longer have to squint and can see everyone clearly.

Namjoon, sulking on a decorative cement bench, kicks off the meeting with a depressing statement on the Agency. “They didn’t take anything physical, but we traced their footsteps back through our computers. It looks like they downloaded a lot of our reports from the past few years and files on both our members and yours.”

“What do you mean?” Yeji’s eyebrows furrow deeply in confusion. “What kind of information was in the reports?”

“A lot of profiles. Skills, incidents you’ve been involved with, current standing position… things like that. On nearly every important person in the Agency and in the Mafia.”

“Why though?” asks Jimin, leaning back against one of the pillars beside Namjoon. “Can’t they find that information anywhere? A lot of it isn’t a secret. Ask anyone around here and they’ll tell you Min Yoongi is a lazy bastard that-” Jeon gives him a light punch on the shoulder, his disappointed grimace almost saying, “c’mon, man.” Yoongi looks like he couldn’t care less.

Taehyung, who has been pacing the narrow concrete walkways, speaks up. “Get to know your enemy better, I guess? Can’t hurt.”

“To be honest, I don’t think they really needed it either. It looked more like it was meant to be taken as a threat. They probably just did that because they could and they had the time,” You say, recalling the attentive wreckage of the Agency.

“Well, I don’t know about that. We know that they’re tricky, obviously, but they can’t know everything. I think they were also trying to get a better idea of what they were up against. Plus, it’s always intimidating when you come into contact with someone and it seems they know every detail about you when you don’t even know your name.”

Namjoon’s take makes sense. His frustrating attitude is an easier pill to swallow if he’s able to make conclusions like that. Not much could scare you off, but if a random person approached you in a fight and began talking about your past, or your personal life, or mistake you’d made, you’d definitely be unsettled, maybe just enough to slip up. With this group, you’re sure that a slip up is all it takes.

Wendy looks like she has something to add, but there’s a frog stuck in her voice box. She gives a shy look to Namjoon and then continues, something perhaps he was planning on leaving out. “To be specific, there were multiple traces of the words “Lion” and “Scorpion” in the information they stole... It makes me think they’ve heard of your, um, past reputation and wanted to see what they could dig up.”

“Oh, great.” You’re unable to help yourself from rolling your eyes. 

“Wow,” Jeon muses, “Didn’t know we were so famous.” His playful regard meets your own, but you’re too down to react with anything else but a blank stare before flicking your eyes away as soon as they meet.

He looks good today. You hate how much your brain keeps begging you to take another experimental glance as if one wasn’t enough. His button-up drapes gently over his shoulders and is tucked loosely into his trousers, sleeves folded all the way up to his elbows. Not that you’re paying such close attention.

Namjoon clears his throat. “I wasn’t going to say anything because I didn’t want to alarm you without any pretense, but…”

You raise an eyebrow at him, crossing your arms over your front. “Well, I’m glad she spoke up. What if they target us because they think we’re a threat? They already know we’ve been working together.”

Wendy offers a small smile of appreciation, but it is not to ignore how the agents all share looks of hesitation toward each other, visibly uncomfortable with Namjoon’s secrecy.

“Yeah… that seemed kind of important,” Yoongi says, squinting into the sunlight as he tilts his head up. “You can’t keep things from us if we’re working together. I hate this just as much as you do, but we aren’t gonna win if we aren’t honest.”

Jimin sighs. “He’s right. If one side tries to get an upper hand it’ll just cause a rift that makes us easier to pull apart.”

“Okay. That’s fair. I... apologize.” Namjoon is stiff, refusing to look anyone in the eye. He wants to avoid further questioning, but for the time being, you won’t press it. There’s enough on your plate right now.

“Anyway… what’s our next move?”

Yeji’s question goes unanswered. It sits under the afternoon light, the peaceful chirps of birds and casual chatter and boat horns filling in the blank space that no one knows what to do with.

“We don’t have a lot to go off of. The investigation is still looking for identification factors, but it could take time, which, as I’m sure you know, we don’t have a lot of. The most we can do is conduct some interviews with witnesses and passersby, but…” the Vice President looks up at you, “we are counting on them slipping up somehow.”

The dejection in the air is hard to ignore. Everyone feels it. Regardless of how impossible it might be for the two sides to see eye to eye, they can see how hopeless the fight has gotten in a span of mere days.

With the DA out of the picture, all of their employees are either working from home or in last-minute rented offices with limited resources. Never in a million years did any of the executives think they’d see the building that represented their struggle go up in flames. Yet the day it did, they couldn’t be happy about it. It only struck fear.

“So there’s really nothing we can do?”

No one needs to answer for you to know.

“Okay. Let’s wrap this up then. Just be careful from here on out. You know, be cautious of what you say, where you say it. They might be monitoring radio waves, might have bugged places you think are safe.”

 In times like these, you have good reason to be a little paranoid. They already knew where your office space was and the time it had been rented. The Syndicate was skilled and definitely had their reach online, and you didn’t doubt it extended to the personal world. There’s nothing money can’t bribe.

It’s disheartening to see how downcast the group is on a day so bright. Everyone begins to mobilize, though slowly, but they get a move on, going back to wherever they need to be or where they want to be. For now, you decide you want to be here.

Waving goodbye to Yeji and the others, you find a nice spot under some shade on a well maintained wooden bench. It faces the water, today clear and calm, and out in the distance is the gleaming modern drawbridge that closes off the port. To the right, the port terminal stretches out long into the river for the large ships that come in, the marina docked with boats of all shapes and sizes tucked in closer to the city behind it. The boats flood in and out, passing you by, the sails floating in the breeze so temptingly you can just see yourself hopping on one so easily and going along to wherever it may take you.

The dream is short-lived, because Jeon’s presence beside you tugs you from your imagination.

“What do you want?” You can feel him looking at you, but you can’t pull your eyes away from the ships drifting by.

It’s a hit to the confidence he strode over here with, but he continues. “What, we can’t make small talk? We’re partners for this, Y/N.”

Any opportunity he sees to make contact with you, he’ll take. He knows why you’re the opposite, but he’s dying to see you, and not just from across a meeting table or a park.

“Partners don’t need to make small talk, they just have to do the job they’ve been assigned and be done with it.”

He exhales tiredly, disappointed in your lack of engagement, like he expected at least a small something more. “Listen, I just wanted to talk to you. I know how things are, and-”

“No, Gguk, you don’t know how things are,” you snap, finally facing him. “You had the past three years to talk to me, but you didn’t. You don’t get to come and take care of things now while it’s convenient for you.”

“It’s not like that.”

“It sure looks like that.”

“Well it’s not.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s me wanting to talk to you. Because it’s been a long time and I miss you.”

You make a sound caught somewhere between a scoff and a laugh, feeling even more let down than you thought you could be. “Yeah, okay.”

It sounds like bull to you. Does he really think you’re that gullible? Does he really think you were going to see him again and run into his arms like a bride who's been tying yellow ribbons around an old oak tree? The anger you felt at the agency yesterday returns, for what happened in the past, for what’s happening now, for all of it. How he can say he missed you when he had all the time in the world, when he was clearly happy after running away from what he had with you, you can’t understand.

Meanwhile, Jeon feels his heart palpitating as he waits for a reply. The explanations want to roll right off his tongue, but he knows this is not the time and place to bring up the subject matter he’s really urging to talk to you about. That conversation will be held soon as he finds it possible. He thought it might be worth it to just start the build-up with trivial chatter, but it’s not working, and probably never will with you.

He picks at his nails, scraping the minimal dirt out. Should he say it? A part of him wants to go for it, and another wants to wait in fear of scaring you. Unfortunately, he thinks it will either way.

“I heard you’ve been taking care of a girl.”

Unbeknownst to you, he’s right.

It steals the breath from your lungs, that residing anger booking it to make room for fear. Though you try to conceal it, you’re sure he’s seen through it, already felt how the atmosphere has shifted. He shouldn’t know about Penny. In fact, no one outside the Mafia should. You can’t meet his eyes, taking more interest in trying to count every strand of fine hair on the space between your knuckles.

It feels just like what Namjoon had talked about, and though you’re sure deep down he wouldn’t try to hurt you like that, it plants a seed of dread in you. In any other world, it might be similar to someone asking, “How are the kids?” and there would be nothing out of the ordinary about it, just a friendly gesture. This instance, however, is layered with a cocktail of warning and concern.

 Penny can fend for herself, she’s responsible, of course, but no one is invincible. It’s only up to a certain point, especially knowing that she’s only a child. 

“How do you know about her?” 

“I still get around,” he says, letting the pause marinate before adding faintly, “Don’t worry. No one that’s gonna try anything knows. I made sure of it.”

The way he still knows what you’re thinking makes you shiver. Or want to throw up. You pass over the slight relief of his last statement in favor of the bliss that comes with ignoring it.

When you don’t reply because you simply don’t know what to make of it, he continues. “It’s honorable. But that’s dangerous for you. To have someone important to you.”

“I know that,” you admit.

It wasn’t like you were stupid. Sure, you were an executive, but what did that mean when Penny made you so vulnerable? The same way they used her against their enemies could be used against you in a heartbeat for tenfold the amount they wanted. She was your weak spot.

“You have to be careful.”

“I know that.”

Jeon winces at your icy inflection. He’s like a child being scolded by his mother. His eyes squeeze shut, thoughts circling back to all the words that were just aching to pour out of him.

“Listen, Y/N, maybe we can go get some coffee? Or-”

You have to cut him off before he gets too out of hand, palms hitting your thighs. “I think that’s enough for today, Gguk.”

He wants to object to your leaving, but he doesn’t want to push you. Your deep sigh is proof of the distress he caused in the past and still continues to leave behind.

So much for some nice quiet time on your own, huh? You stand up and turn from him, heading down the exit path. Realistically, you’re glad he doesn’t call out after you, because you know it would just get you worked up and that was the last thing you needed. When you were around him, you felt the piercing image your reputation had created crumbling to ruins. It pains you to think of the consequences of an emotional err during times like these.

Yet still, it breaks your heart to leave.

☆☆☆

“He’s been really getting to you, huh?”

Yeji’s voice is quiet above the cacophony of clinking silverware and incoherent conversation, but intelligible enough for the both of you to hear in your own space. 

You smear some whipped cream on your forkful of waffle, placing it in your mouth and letting both the fluffy texture and immaculate taste sweep you off your feet for a moment, as brunch is everything good and great in the world. Or at least in your world, at this very moment.

You swallow before answering, your usual temper tamed by the sedative of a certain portmanteau of breakfast and lunch. “Of course he has. He won’t leave me the fuck alone.”

“Well, he does have to work with you.”

As you chew, you shake your head in wide, dramatic arcs. “No, I mean he keeps acting like we’re old friends. After the meeting he asked me If I wanted to get coffee with him!” you exclaimed, “Like no, I’m not getting fucking coffee with you, who do you think you are?”

Yeji flashes her pearly whites at your short fuse, the one she’s versed in remedying. Deft hands lift up her mug for a thoughtful sip.

“Maybe his intentions aren’t that bad. He’s always been happy-go-lucky like that and he’s probably just too oblivious to think about the consequences of what he did. Yeah, pretending like it didn’t happen hurts, but because of what’s going on right now... it might be a blessing in disguise.”

Despite her intimidating appearance, Yeji was an exceptional conversationalist and particularly thoughtful in her advice. It feels more like a talk between two childhood friends catching up over some food, gossiping about people from high school and boy drama. Though it’s not quite that simple, it lets you take a back seat for a little while. Yeji is one of the only people you’d consider a friend.

“What, like making it easier for the mission?”

“Yeah, 'cause if you can push that issue out of the picture temporarily, you can get the job done and either deal with it after or forget about it entirely. And hey, you’re the Scorpion!” Yeji leans across the table in an enthusiastic whisper. “Scorpions are badass and vicious and don’t spend their time getting worked up over men. In fact, Scorpions reel men in and then kill them, especially you.”

You know she’s trying to encourage you, but the thought is spectacularly unappealing. While she was right in what you did, it’s not like you enjoyed it or were proud of it. You hate to be described that way. Perhaps that is your character among the mafia and the image you spread to protect yourself, and perhaps it’s even true when you get in the work mindset, but is that really you? Talk about an identity crisis.

You reach for your water, the condensation slippery on the glass. “That’s just my reputation.”

She sighs, slumping back into her side of the booth. “Okay, scratch that then. What I mean is that, besides the people you’re close to like Penny and I, you’re this astute, intelligent, skilled executive. You’ve accomplished a lot to get where you are. Why are you letting him get under your skin and uproot that?”

Yeji wouldn’t let someone make her feel like that, and she wishes you wouldn’t either. As much as she secretly admires you - for both that reputation and the real you - she cares about you all the same. Maybe one of the only people that does.

“I guess you have a point.”

“You know I have a point.”

“It’s not that easy though, Yeji,” you say weakly, staring down into your glass. “Every time I see him, I don’t know whether I want to kiss him or beat his ass.”

She laughs at your comment, making you crack a smile too. “It happens, Y/N. Love and hurt go hand in hand.” When you look up at her, she reaches a slender hand over the table and interlocks her fingers with your own with a squeeze. “Just tolerate it for now.”

A troubled exhale leaves you at the prospect, but you squeeze back nonetheless. 

“I can do that.” 

☆☆☆

It's two days later when you get a call from none other than the Lion himself. The time has been passing unbearably, slower than a soul train passing an ambulance. You and Penny relaxed by bingeing an ungodly amount of shows and movies, even delving into your weekly budget for a stockpile of snacks and drinks. But with every laugh that tumbled out of you and blended into the live audiences’, the nervous thoughts of the situation lingered in the back of your mind.

But hopefully, this call will have some good news.

“What’s up?”

“Good news.”

Eureka! For once, you’re happy to be speaking to Jeon.

“Like Namjoon said, they slipped up. Someone wasn’t wearing gloves and left a fingerprint in the DA. Intelligence was able to track it down to a random guy living in the Gambling District. I’ll tell you more about him, but I’m coming to pick you up now.”

You to your feet from your seat on the couch, wedging the phone between your shoulder and ear so you could throw your stuff together. Penny pauses the show for you, sending a raised brow. In silent conversation, you shrug.

God, it’s too early. You’re rummaging around the room for your wallet and trying to process cohesive thoughts simultaneously, and it’s not working out.

You stop to let your hands rub at your eyes. “Okay, but how do we know this was an actual slip up? We don’t have footage to check… it might have been on purpose to lead us somewhere.”

The one thing you had learned in all your time was to play like your opponent. Never underestimate them - especially the Syndicate, who clearly wanted that message to reach you. But if you were trying to get the upper hand on the people you were trying to eliminate, it wouldn’t be far fetched to give them a false lead the same way you had before.

“It’s all we got. And if we are led somewhere, we’ll figure it out.”

“Okay. Talk to you in a bit. I’ll meet you in the parking garage?”

“No need. Already walking up.” In the background, you hear Jeon’s keys jingling as he strides. “Also, we’re stopping for food first. Bye.” A blunt click signals the end of the call.

Shit. He’s coming to your apartment? The current state is an indescribable mess - hopefully he wouldn’t call CPS on you. More importantly, you are still in your pajamas, and there is no way he can see you like this.

“Was that the curveball?” Penny asks with an impish interest.

Your eyes squint. “Take a guess.”

Hurrying down the cramped hallway to your shared bedroom with Penny, you trade your sweats for some comfortable jeans and, with the time ticking down, throw a moto jacket over your hoodie. As the knock on the door sounds, you’re gathering your hair into a ponytail.

When you reach the living room, Penny is already pulling the door open. You hear a greeting, and then Jeon’s head appears around it comically, peeking into the apartment.

“There you are,” he says, looking at your current state with confusion. Not exactly what you might wear to base, but it got the job done. He snickers. “What, did I catch you off guard?”

Trying to hold back your minor pants from running around so much, all you can muster is, “Yeah, a little bit.” You turn to the mirror and pluck a bobby pin from your lips, tucking it into your hair to keep the flyaways down.

“Okay, let’s hit it. Penny, super sorry about this, I’ll finish watching with you later when I get home. There’s food in the fridge, you know where the money is, and I’ll call Yeji to check in on you if it gets late, okay?”

She pouts. “Okay.”

“Hey, you remember the safe word?”

Penny nods dramatically, her dark bangs bouncing, standing on her tippy toes to whisper in your ear, “Cherry-cola… also, he’s really cute.”

You pull away laughing, giving her a light noogie with your fist as her nose scrunches up. She wasn’t wrong, of course. Your time apart did him well, and you assume he must have gotten tips on how to dress because of how effortlessly put together he looked these days. But that's beside the point.

“Love you, Pen. Bye. And make sure your ringer is on.” With a small peck on the top of her head and bidding goodbye with a promise to return, you’re pulling away and leading Jeon out the door, being careful in locking it behind you.

“What’s with the safeword?” He asks, starting down the hall to the elevator. An uncomfortable tilt to his lips fixes on his face. “Isn’t that… kinda inappropriate?”

You roll your eyes, swatting at his shoulder. “Ew. Not that kind of safeword, dumbass. It’s so she knows who she can trust and let inside. There’s a lot of people that I trust that she doesn’t know, so if I have someone swinging by I tell them so she knows she can trust them too.”

He makes a sound of understanding, slipping his hands into his pockets. The way he ambles is spirited yet composed, shoulders relaxed with purposeful steps. Jeon always came and went like low tide in the morning, a calmer view of his personality considering his notorious “devil may care” attitude.

“Can you tell me?” Once he sees the disapproving expression on your face, he continues, “Listen, I already know about her. What if something happens and you need me to get her and you’re too busy dying to tell me?”

Crossing your arms in front of you, you shake your head. “Hopefully that will never happen in the first place, but god forbid…” you cautiously lower your voice, “Cherry-cola.”

“Cherry-cola?” he repeats casually.

You shush him loudly, glaring and speaking through gritted teeth. “The point of a safeword is that not everyone knows it!” 

“Sorry,” his lips purse as you press the button and begin waiting for the elevator. “Why that one?”

“It’s our favorite drink. Goes with anything.”

“Well...”

You cut him off with a hand as the thick metal doors slide open and the two of you step inside. “Not a matter of opinion. I don’t want to hear it.”

He raises his hands up in defense. “Okay, okay. I will respect that, but you know...”

It’s then that you see him giving you a look, an impish smile adorning his cheeks. The dimples that gently poke his skin are the kind that make you feel lucky.

“What?”

His eyes avert, head shaking as he turns away and exchanges his view for his sly reflection in the metal. “Oh, nothing.”

“Gguk.”

A teasing tone coats his tongue as he speaks. “Well, I don’t know, it just reminded me, you know, just pulled the thought from the deep recess of my brain, that.... we used to have one too.”

You almost couldn’t believe your ears, even considering asking him to repeat himself.  The arch look in his eyes told you everything you needed to know. “Yeah, we did,” you agree. “Not like I ever had to use it...”

He faces you with a disbelieving breath of laughter leaving his open mouth, astonished. “What, did you want to have to say it?”

You shrug nonchalantly, raising your voice to say, “No, no… you were always just a little soft about it, that’s all.”

You can’t help the grin growing on your face as his lips part in offense, one corner slowly turning up in a knowing open-mouthed smile. His lids drop in the slightest manner, barely noticeable if you didn’t pay such close attention, and you have to turn away before your face starts to blaze too unbearably. “Oh, you know I was not soft.”

Both of you are thinking the same thing, no doubt about it. Memories roll back like pristine tapes on a projector, ones that most definitely prove his point.

You clear your throat, unsure of where the conversation is going and not bold enough to let it brew. “Anyway, about the guy…?”

He’s disappointed in your choice to change the subject, the tell in the way his head drops and chews at his lower lip for a split second, but abides nonetheless. “Twenty-six years old, been working at lots of casinos around as a dealer but his most recent job was three months ago at King’s Crown. After that, no record. Unfortunately, we have to take him alive since the investigation has the police involved.”

“Unfortunately?”

“Well, kind of. It’s just limiting when there’s a stipulation.”

“Okay. I will respect that.”

Your callback is the cause of a smile taking over his face. You’re glad he doesn’t mention your attitude - if he did, your dignity wouldn’t let you continue. Maybe it’s your good mood paired with his unexpectedness, maybe it’s Yeji’s advice telling you to tolerate him, but regardless, you won’t deny that it feels better than the anger. With hope of a lead comes hope that this could work out.

“By the way, what’re you in the mood for?” Jeon asks casually, turning to you. “We can do fast food, we can do Firehouse...”

As soon as he says the word, memories from long ago that almost don’t even feel like yours resurface. Firehouse was always your and Jeon’s go-to pizza place on lunch break or for celebration after a job well done. Though you haven’t been there in years, the delectable taste of their pies is still fresh in your mind. It’s tempting, but you don’t want to make the decision. You weren’t that hungry, anyway. Jeon stares, awaiting an answer.

At your shrug, his patience runs out and he fishes his hand into his pocket. “Okay, I’m flipping a coin. Firehouse is heads, tails is the nearest drive-thru.”

He says it naturally, but you know he’s testing the water by the way his gaze lingers, measuring your reaction to see if you’ll be angry with him. Not one, but two fond tokens from the past, all in the span of thirty seconds? At one point, flipping a coin was an everyday occurrence to settle disagreements, whether it be where to eat, what time to close up shop, or whose plan to follow. You know he’s trying to jog your good memories, but maybe it’s not such a bad thing.

The metal flings from his thumb and lands with a muted tap in his opposite palm. He slaps it over to the backside of his hand.

“Heads. Firehouse it is.” His eyes flick up to yours, an eyebrow raised in curiosity.

You grin. “Sure. Wanted that anyway.”

He rolls his eyes. A shy smile crawls up his face, the faint hallmark scar at the edge of his cheekbone shifting. “Yeah, alright. Tell me next time before it lands on something you don’t want.”

The elevator doors open with a ding, freeing you into the open world. If you let the resentment subside for a few minutes, it feels just like it used to when things were okay - you and Jeon against the world.

☆☆☆

“So this is it?”

You’re staring up a beat down brick building four stories high. It’s dilapidated and nearly falling apart, in contrast to the virgin casinos, modern and flawless with intricate architecture and an ambiance of expense just half a mile away. Supposedly, your guy was somewhere in there, and it was your best bet that he had something of value to give you.

Jeon slams his side of the car door, still licking at pizza grease on his forearm, and comes around to stand next to you. “Yeah. Floor two, apartment two.” You laugh to yourself incredulously at his casual antics, but he doesn’t seem to care as he walks right up to the door.

He finds that no buzzer is needed for entry, so with your guns at the ready, you take slow steps inside. Jeon leads, you trailing to the side of him. It’s eerily quiet, not a single person out to encounter, none of the hustle and bustle a usual apartment would contain, not even the sounds of footsteps or moving furniture. Did anyone actually live here?

The floors of the hallways are decorated with faded forest green carpet, stains and dust covering the washed-out fabric. There is an ugly floral strip of wallpaper at the top of the beige walls that are dented and scraped in random places.

You’re careful to keep down the volume of the creaking stairs as you shift your weight over them, but it’s nearly impossible. Upon further inspection, the door frame of apartment two was covered in scratches and markings, thin cobwebs joined in the corners. The door itself looks cheap and it has what seems to be a few drops of blood splattered near the knob. You and Jeon share a look of uncertainty, those gut instincts kicking in to let you know that something was off.

He begins to count down, and on three, you’re pushing in the door. He rushes in first with you on his tail to scope out the sides. The apartment is empty, except…

“Well, that’s fucking fantastic.”

There’s a dead body occupying the chair in front of the television. It’s the man, alright, but his throat has been slit, red coating his neck and clothes, head hanging back over the seat. There’s no smell, though - it couldn’t have been that long since others were here, especially due to the slight glisten of blood not yet dry on his skin.

They didn’t bury him, either. Just left the body out in the open for you to find. One alarming step ahead, just like last time.

“Covering their tracks. They knew he fucked up and took care of him before we could,” says Jeon, scouring the rest of the beaten-down unit. No signs of a struggle, no mess, no nothing. A dead end.

When you pat the body down, reach into his pockets, there’s nothing. When you move to his bedroom and start to search through his nightstand, it strikes you that there might be something invasive about rustling through a dead man’s belongings, but you’ve done it too many times to still be sensitive to it. You peer around his closet, look under the mattress, filter through his drawers, until a certain glint of light catches your eye.

On the side of his bed closest to the window, a small card lies on the carpet beneath, hidden by the frame if it weren’t for the shiny sticker on the back. You bring it up for a closer look in the light.

It’s got his name, picture, and contact information as well as a barcode at the bottom. Not a driver’s license, but an ID card for the Belvedere Casino. The sticker in the top corner makes out a small icon of a spread of playing cards.

You’re about to shout out to Jeon, but stop yourself as soon as you open your mouth.  You take a slow once over around the room. Namjoon’s words echo in between your thoughts - Could the place be bugged? They were here not so long ago, and considering how they kept seeming to be a step in front of you at all times, it wasn’t a far stretch. There was no way to be sure, but you had a hunch.

Walking back to the main room, you catch his attention from where he is snooping around the shelves. 

“Didn’t find anything. I think we’re out of luck.” When he turns to look at you, you widen your eyes and make an intense gesture with your finger to your lips before pointing a finger from your ear to the ceiling and directing your eyes around the room. You’re grateful when he understands immediately.

“Seriously? Nothing?” he asks timidly.

“Yeah. They got us. We should head back and call for cleanup, see if they can find anything.” You start for the door, pulling it open.

He hums, eyeing the item in your hand as he walks out behind you. “Good idea… I don’t really want to be here anymore anyway. Feels too weird.”

It’s silent all the way down. Was it too obvious? Was the dialogue too strange, too choppy? The two of you reach the street, careful of your surroundings, before getting back in his car. 

“What was that about?” he asks, shutting the door as he slides into the driver’s seat.

You hold out the card for him to take. “Look. You know how you said there was no recent record of employment besides at King’s Crown? He’s been working at the Belvedere the past three months.”

He looks at you incredulously. “And?”

For whatever reason, he makes you doubt yourself. Suddenly, that solid idea you had in mind that made you split from the apartment is no longer so solid.

“The Belvedere has to have something. That’s our new lead!” Pulling your seatbelt over your body, you reach for your phone to give the Boss an update.

“He could have just been working off-record and gotten involved with the Syndicate some other way.”

You turn to him seriously. “Jeon. If it’s separate, why bother? Why would he be working for the Syndicate when he has a stable source of income as a dealer unless the two come hand in hand? They have to be hiding in plain sight.”

“And you’re willing to bet all your cards on that?” You almost find the doubt in his voice offensive.

You exhale deeply, trying to push down your temper. “The people in the Syndicate who killed him made sure there was nothing left on him to tell us who he was. No wallet, no keys, no license, no nothing, because they wanted his identity hidden. If he was working for them separately, why would they bother to do that? They would have just killed him and left. But it was about who he was and what he did. Which was dealing at The Belvedere.”

The car goes silent, and Jeon doesn’t reply. He only looks at you blankly, his poker face hard to break through, but not impossible. You know when he lets a hand slip up to tug at the strands at the nape of his neck.

“Good job,” he grins, hooking the key in the ignition and rumbling the car to life. He pulls out of the parking spot and onto the road casually. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You cross your arms in front of you protectively, glaring at him from the side.

“Oh, come on. I never actually doubted you, I was just messing around.”

You scoff loudly, turning to the window. “You’re such a fucking liar, Gguk. You didn’t get the connection until I explained it and the fact that you can’t even admit that you’re wrong, the fact that you have to act like you always knew, blows my fucking mind!”

He makes a left turn, looking out at the road, clearly avoiding you even though you’re stuck in the same damn car a foot away. “Calm down, Y/N. It’s not that serious.”

“But it is that serious! It was going so well, Gguk. We were finally acting like regular partners on a job. You always have to ruin everything, don’t you? It always has to be about you, and how much of a hero you are-”

“I never said I was a hero.”

“But you sure act like it.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“Oh, I’m being ridiculous? Comes from the guy who claims he was ‘just joking around’ during a serious case like this when you know it’s not like what it used to be.”

“Okay, fine!” He shouts, hands slamming down on the steering wheel. “I did doubt you. I thought it was far fetched.” Jeon's voice booms as he rambles quickly in aggravation. “And then you explained it and I remembered that you’re really fucking smart and I wouldn’t have made that connection myself. And I lied because I didn’t know what else to say. I’m sorry, okay? Are you happy?”

Jeon’s free hand, which had been jerking around as he yelled, finds itself gripping the wheel again regretfully. Silence fills the car, hanging in the air as heavy and solid as concrete. You’re almost scared to breathe in face of all the tension. He looks like he’s about to say something else but stops himself before the words fall out. 

The way you were fuming brings tears to your eyes. When your parents died, all you had was Jeongguk. But Jeongguk’s heart had been rooted in the mafia since he was young. The two were mutually exclusive, and your best option was following after him. It was hard to believe the boy you put your trust in so blindly all those years ago had grown into the man sitting next to you now, bringing you to tears with the way he infuriated you. Where did it all go wrong?

“No. I’m not.”

☆☆☆

You’re tired when you go to bed that night, and you’re tired when you wake up. Though you’re barely awake, you can feel Penny nestled into your side, body rising and falling as she breathes. It’s a small comfort, especially after the rough day you had. Last night had been a mess as you tried to hold it together for her, but simply couldn’t. 

Today, you’ll be heading over to a motel in the Gambling District to stay at indefinitely with Jeon while you work on the case. You have no clue how long it will take - you’ll be taking a look at the Belvedere, but what comes after that, you don’t know.

It was important to note that somehow, the two of you had moved up to the faces of the mission, even though both sides were working tirelessly in the search. 

The last thing you want to do right now is see him, but you have no choice. The sooner you start working and get it done, the sooner you can get home. But for now, you have to start packing. You take another moment to lay with Penny, because when you’ll next feel this safety and comfort again, you can’t be sure of. Then, you carefully unlink her from you and begin laying things out.

Something nice to wear for the casino, clothes to sleep in, essentials for hygiene, an extra pair of socks… 

Eventually, Penny stretches out and groans to inform you of her awakening while you roam around the room. Her feet shifting under the comforter push a t-shirt off the bed.

“Sleep okay?” She rubs her eyes. “Yeah, you?”

“Eh. Could have been better.”

While you are away, Penny will be home by herself. The Boss said that she wouldn’t be required for work while you were gone - she could stay home and safe, for your reassurance. It still makes you nervous, of course, but bringing her with you isn’t an option. Yeji promised she would stop in from time to time, and you would be leaving her with a sum of money in case she needs it to order food or something of the sort.

“When are you leaving?”

“I have to be there by one, so probably in an hour or so.”

“Can we make waffles then?”

You sigh, letting your arms go limp at your side. Waffles were a hassle, and the cleanup could be a nightmare, but… something told you it was worth it over the potential mess.

“Sure, go get the machine set up and I’ll come out in a sec.”

It takes a few more minutes to get everything packed, take a few extra bottles of soaps and gels just in case, quickly zipping up your duffle bag and tossing it down onto the bed for when you return later.

Out in the kitchen, Penny has gotten more of a move on. She has already retrieved the ingredients from the pantry, even started measuring amounts out accordingly with the instructions on the back of the box.

You let her have a little fun and crack the eggs this time - though some shell gets in there, it’s nothing you can’t pick out. She makes jokes and you can’t help but laugh, and something about it has its way of calming you down. It reminds you of how precious moments spent together are. Something about the girl just makes you let go of the burdens you carry.

But it’s much too soon that you’re cleaning up. A small ending for a small fragment of your day bound to be filled with things much larger than you’re ready to handle. 

The rain falls like feathers when you pull into the lot, plunking consistently on your windshield. You turn the key and take it out, shutting down the vehicle’s rumbling engine, the lights dimming out all around you. You should get inside sooner than later, before the weather worsens, but you can’t seem to bring yourself out of the car. Jeon’s is already parked, meaning he’s inside waiting. But there’s no other choice you have. You’ll have to see him at some point, anyway. Postponing will only anger you further.

You push open the car door quickly, grabbing your bag and darting up the stairs as they clang under your shoes. The droplets smack against your skin and drip down relentlessly. It could be worse, but it is certainly not pleasant. Once you find shelter under the awning, you raise your hand in preparation to knock, but Jeon is already yanking open the door and stepping aside to make way for your entrance.

Inside, you dab at your hair with your sleeve carefully, fixing it in the mirror opposite to you. As clued in by the backpack and laptop already set up on the right side of the singular bed in the room, you deduced he had already claimed it. Therefore, you take the initiative to place your own bag on the left side, closest to the wall.

“So… how are you?”

“I’m fine.” You reach into your bag to begin unpacking a few of your essentials, feeling his eyes glued to you as you move around the room. Even as you plug in your charger, toss your computer on the bed, you could sense his firm yet uneasy presence behind you.

“Have you started yet?” you ask, brushing back the hair that had fallen forward onto your face. You’d prefer to start your work instead of floating around the elephant in the room awkwardly. 

He tucks his hands into his pockets. “No, I was waiting for you.” Jeon has been stuck to the same spot near the dim lamp beside the door since you stepped through the threshold. It inclined you to think that maybe he’s as nervous as you are, but you’re sure it’ll pass over in a matter of minutes once he gathers himself. 

“Okay.” You exhale in thought, sweeping yourself into a comfortable position on the bed. “I’ll start doing background on the casino and it’s ownership records. You can look into workers or people associated with the man who was killed. Or call the agency, I don’t know. You do you.”

He makes a small noise of agreement, flipping open his laptop. However, with the slow movement of his fingers across the keyboard, the air void of purposeful clicking, you can tell he’s not getting much done. In fact, you can see in your peripheral his stillness, as if he’s waiting to make a move.

When you spare a glimpse over to him, he offers an expression of deep thought, only to say, “There are snacks, too. In case you get hungry.”

Your scampering flow of typing pauses. “Okay.” All you can offer is a brief, tight pull of your lips, what you could barely define as a smile.

Luckily, he seems to receive your message loud and clear, turning back around in his chair to start up whatever he was planning on. You know what you want to get - the information most valuable to doing what you needed to do and confirming what you already suspected, which was in the past records of the proprietorship. It would also be helpful if you could find current workers and see what they were doing; Maybe even more helpful if you could find nothing at all.

The records you stumble upon are nothing short of interesting once you finally break down that barrier. Ownership of the casino had been consistent up until three months ago, when the deed holder - a healthy man of only fifty-six years old - made a business deal and swiftly moved out of the country, only to be found dead in his home a month later. The new owner’s background appeared without even the slightest scratch. The lack of suspicion is suspicious in itself - you don’t think the Falcon would have the place under his own name, but having it under someone who is pristine as a newly minted coin is dubious all the same.

It’s the shut of Jeon’s laptop that sucks you back into the reality of the motel room from your online sanctuary. He stands up to stretch and makes a move for the bathroom. The room is shrouded in the darkness of nighttime, save for the moonlight streaming in through the windows and the sorry excuse for a lamp on your night table. It wouldn’t kill you to call it a night either.

When he emerges, you take your turn, bringing a change of clothes with you so you won’t have to face the tension that might arise if you came back out in just a towel. The shower is pleasant; For a second, if you close your eyes, you’re no longer in the same space with him and can enjoy the time for yourself. 

Your heavy heart can’t be kept at bay for too long. Outside the bathroom is a surprisingly accurate reminder of old times, when scenes just like this were the regular, and the feeling was the same. But at this moment, the way you’re avoiding his eyes while you braid your hair in the mirror is a show of just how much things have changed.

“Why are you looking at me?” you pipe quietly over the steady padding of your feet on the carpet, his watch following you hesitantly.

Jeon sits back at the head of the bed, not sure where to direct his gaze anymore now that you’ve verbally interrupted it. His constant attention, and especially the way he doesn’t deny it even in the face of your attitude towards him, leaves you with a weary ache that you’re quickly getting tired of feeling all the time.

A charming, shy smile fixes on his face as his head tilts endearingly, testing the waters. “What, I can’t look at you?”

“Not like that,” you mumble, barely above a whisper, lifting up the sheets to crawl in, leaving as much space as possible between the two of you. When you turn your back to him to look at the wall, you think he might make another teasing comment, but he doesn’t.

“It’s the braid,” he elaborates, as if it’s some sort of excuse sufficient enough to play flirty and cool with you when the situation is anything but. “It reminds me of when we were kids… you used to wear it like that every day.” 

It’s almost as if to say, do you remember? But of course you remember. Afternoons spent at the playground, your hair in a loose braid thrown over the front of your shoulder. Mornings spent in the courtyard, scribbling down answers to work that was due in ten minutes. Evenings spent wandering around town, laughing and joking together as kids should. But nothing offered by the times of the past could dismiss the times of the present.

You lean over and tug the chain on the lamp, darkness enclosing your small room.

“Go to bed, Gguk.”

He doesn’t make another sound that night.

☆☆☆

The storm has proven its resilience yet continues to torrent, horribly testing the aging logs of trees and endlessly splattering your windows. Even still, it has something to say, residing anger it wants to make you feel, trapping you inside your room and limiting your options. It’s a deep pain, but perhaps if you were a storm, you’d let yourself drain out every ounce of deplorable wrath until there was nothing leftover, too.

Jeon sits at the small table near the door. He’s been there for who knows how long, flipping through pages, making phone calls that connect no dots, wasting his time. There is nothing that can be done at the moment, not with the state of the weather at least. Weather, a trivial matter, the most popular topic choice for insignificant conversation, heeds your course of action without a known resumption.

In the meantime, you enjoy yourself as much as you can. You make popcorn in the less than appealing microwave and settle in to watch whatever piques your interest in the slightest, meaning there is not a wide selection. Right now, you’ve got on a show about the aliens who have supposedly visited ancient Egypt and other societies bygone, and have been consistently present throughout the timeline of human history.

“Y/N. Let me ask you a question.” Jeon rubs his forehead, slumping over in his chair. “Did you come here with the intention of helping this case, or just to vacation?”

You nod in thought, humming. “Good question. I’d say the former, but I don’t think your question was intended to have an answer. Let me ask you a question then.”

His tired face turns to you expectantly. 

You take a pensive breath before raising your hand and asking slowly, “Do you think that aliens provided advanced technologies to the Germans to build new weapons for the Third Reich?”

He stares at you blankly, meeting your still and inquisitive expression for just a moment until he cracks, shaking his head and looking away toward the window, as if he’ll find something better to say out there.

“No, I’m serious,” you insist as you toss another kernel into your mouth, hoping he takes your biting satire to heart. “Because, this guy is saying that the Germans built a flying saucer. A whole fucking flying saucer, called the Haunebu, and no, wait, listen, it was said to use mythical technology from old Indian texts.”

You stare, intent on waiting for a response. Jeon pinches the bridge of his nose, the way his fuse was quickly shortening keeping you bitterly entertained. “You have to work with me, Y/N. Can you please just work with me?”

The joke dissolves and you blankly turn to flip through the channels. “I am working with you. There’s just nothing to work on.”

He puts his head in his hands. “For God’s sake, can you stop? I know you don’t care for me, but if you could just cooperate-”

Your eyes widen in surprise. “Care for you?” you repeat, your smile fueled with gallons of flammable offense, sitting upright on the bed. He spins in his chair to face you again, eyebrows knitting together before confirming, “Yeah, care for me!”

A sour laugh escapes you, arms folding over your front. “I don’t care for you? That’s rich, Gguk.” 

“No, you don’t! And I don’t think you ever have, quite frankly, because you’re acting like such a bitch to me and can’t even give me a chance!” Jeon stands now, leaning into his words as his hands stretch out in dramatic gestures.

You jump to your feet. ”Why should I give you a chance? What good has that ever done me?”

Jeon’s jaw visibly clenches, his hand shooting up to meet his chin as he eschews your scrutinizing eye. You feel your nails digging into your palms as your fists clench, but you’re sure you’ll swing at something if you stop.

Your throat begins to sting, masking your cracking voice with a low tone. “I almost died for you, Gguk. And a week later, you left me.”

The room collapses under the weight of the elephant. It’s everything you’ve wanted to say for years bubbling to the top.

As soon as the venom leaves your mouth, you know he remembers. The guilt washing over his features says it all, awful clips of the last mission you ever went on together passing through his vision.

It was supposed to be an easy interception of a deal, but Jeon’s inability to differentiate between necessary risk and recklessness cost you your covers. He got away. You were captured.

It was torture at the expense of his safety. Excruciating pain in order to protect him from his own mistake. Your blood spilled, your tears cried, your body hurt. Yet at the end of every video, every call, every threat, your only message to him was that it was okay.

They were the worst you had ever encountered. They wanted leverage over the Boss; They wanted Jeon. And the only way to him was to you. At the time, it was worth it. You wouldn’t give him up, you wouldn’t let yourself become a part of an exchange for his life. You put his over your own in a heartbeat.

And where had that gotten you?

Your depth of a breaking point had provided that desperately needed time to organize a plan of attack, and even though you hadn’t been there quite yet, even though you had been trained and it was far from your first rodeo, it wasn’t anything less than scarring. 

Even though the mafia infiltrated and rescued you successfully, the inner turmoil never fully recovered. Though you moved past the nightmares and the flashbacks that hid in your damaged subconscious, the memory never stopped hurting. Especially when he up and left you to deal with it on your own.

“I know,” is all he can muster. 

A thrilling laugh of spite rips from your throat. He hates it.

“What? That’s all you can say? You can’t even give me an explanation?”

“I… I was out of options for us, Y/N. After the mission, I knew it was me making you vulnerable. People were hurting you over me, and I didn’t want that for us anymore. I made a plan to leave, and I thought that you could come with me… but I was stupid and in a rush and the deal was only for my cooperation if the Agency helped me out. They wouldn’t let me take you.”

Your usual crisp verbosity fails you now, everything you need to say stuck in your throat. A stabbing anguish falls like bullets in a downpour, a storm born only in the bitterest winter. 

“I know I fucked up, Y/N, I know I did. And I’ll always be sorry and I’ll always regret it. And I’ll spend every second of my life trying to make up for it.” Jeon’s lip quivers through his shaky breaths, his eyes now soaked, the ache in his heart unforgiving. “And I know I can’t ever take it back, but you hate me so bad…”

A pained upturn of your lips feeling the grudge of a thousand wrongdoings phases over your expression, for him, for you, for everyone you’d ever known in this sickening lifetime.

“I don’t hate you, Gguk,” you sob through your teeth, wiping furiously at your eyes, “I hate… I hate that I love you regardless of what you do.”

He winces. “Please don’t do that to me.” “Do what?”

Hot streams of tears trickled down his supple cheeks, voice cracking as he whispers, “Say that you love me when you know how I feel.”

“Oh shut up, Jeongguk!” you yell, wet rage prickling your veins as it courses through you. Your cheeks are now just vessels for a dam breaking loose. “I have always loved you!”

And it hurts so bad to say it. The way he makes your stomach flutter feels like a betrayal to yourself. But that smile he wears like a medallion, those eyes that are always searching for you, that golden heart that loved you so well - everything you hate is everything you love. Even when you want to ignore the truth for everything it’s worth and all the weight it heaves on its shoulders, it’s impossible to escape the way you love him even when you wish you could just hate him.

You calm yourself with a shaky breath. “I loved you before, and I loved you after, even when you left and I knew you weren’t coming back.”

“That’s not true,” he sputters, taking a step toward you. “I was always going to come back. Every day, I begged for help to get you out. But the deal I made with the agency was only my rescue for my cooperation, and it didn’t include you, no matter what I tried to do.”

It stings your chest. You have to turn away when your head drops to your palms, but he’s quick to reach a hand to your shoulder for your attention. 

“It’s been over three years, Gguk,” you whisper, sniffling as you wipe your running nose with your sleeve. Your voice is clogged in disappointed acceptance. “Don’t lie. Just say my relevance to you faded and you forgot.”

He grasps your arm gently, beckoning your eyes to meet his. While your tears are slowing from tire, his are an endless faucet left on in negligence.

“No,” his tone softens, “No, I was waiting until it was safe.”

You shake your head, the soreness in your chest present as ever as you try to hold it all in. “It was never going to be safe.”

“Maybe. And maybe it won’t ever be. But you have to let me make it right.”

“How do you intend on doing that? Putting snacks in the fridge doesn’t do shit, Gguk.”

He inhales deeply as his lips press together. Jeon takes a careful glance around the room, eyebrows furrowing as he silently pleads with you. 

“I made a plan to get you out after the mission is completed. The higher-ups at the Agency agreed just in exchange for you to give a private report with as much as you know for future reference. From there, it’s you going wherever you want, no strings attached, no extra deal you have to make.”

“That won’t work,” you scoff.

“Yes, it will! I promise it will! Listen, everything is already planned. My friends are taking extra care because they trust me. You’ll have new records, a new passport and a license, new everything, and even…”

“Gguk...” You whisper as he continues rambling. “Gguk. Jeongguk!”

He takes in a sharp breath as his words are cut off mid-stream, feeling his heart drop to his stomach.

In a quiet, calm whisper, you explain, “I can’t. I have Penny and other people here that I care about. For god sake, I have money I've been saving for years in that apartment, all our stuff is there, I can’t just leave and not come back.”

The desperation in his voice is now out in the open. “I know. I wasn’t expecting that, but I’m working on her now, too. You just have to trust me.”

For a second, he lets himself swell with hope, but your deep, despondent sigh crumbles him right back down to where he started. 

“Gguk…” you start, but he can’t bear to hear it, leaning down to meet your hesitant eyes straight on. Distress clouds his watery pupils as he implores you with every ounce of sincerity he can muster to the surface for you. He doesn’t know how else he can make you see he’s being more honest now than he ever has been in his life. 

“It’s okay if you can’t forgive me. I understand, and I’ll never stop being sorry. And, and I’m sorry for how I acted when I saw you again, but I was just so scared.” His lip trembles as he searches for eyes for something, anything. “I didn’t know what I was supposed to do because I was so scared of what you’d say and how you’d feel and I thought if I acted like it was fine, it wouldn’t hurt as bad.” 

He swallows on a dry mouth, trying not to stammer but his heart denying him that ability.

“I, I thought about you every day. Every day. And I knew it was complicated and everyone told me I should just let go and, and I just couldn’t! I just knew it was you. It was always you. And I am so, so sorry I made you feel it wasn’t.”

By now, you can’t restrain your tears, no matter how hard you clench your teeth or comfort your face. In a moment of deep affliction, there’s no other place to turn but him. The second you pull him to you is relief synonymous with the feeling of when a battered castaway finally spots a plane coming for their rescue; it is joint. 

“I wish I could trust you, Jeongguk,” Sobs muffled by his comforting chest, you cry, ”But I don’t know if I can do that. I want to believe you so bad, but I… I don’t know if it’s worth it.”

The comforting warmth of his body is a mean juxtaposition against the harsh sobs that rack through it. Jeongguk smells of something sweet and nostalgically familiar, like sunny beach days spent down by the salty water, plucking seashells from the sand and digging for hermit crabs once the waves pull away from the shore. Light sunscreen and grainy memories that flash by as your brain slides through like film.

“That’s okay,” he mumbles into your hair. Your will splinters in his arms. “Just think about it. That’s all. Just think about it.”

Though you nod against him in shaky assent, it’s not a promise. 

☆☆☆

Not the next day, but the day after, is when you decide to make your move. 

The casino is a home base, hidden in plain sight. Not even that - crowded by the public eye, and yet not a suspicion raised despite its astronomical numbers being reported over the past few months. Sure, it was bustling full of rich men in need of something to spend their money on, but not enough to sustain those incredible reports.

And under that brittle, flimsy assumption comes your similarly brittle, flimsy plan. Go in, see what you can see. Scout for suspicious activity, chat up drunk patrons and loosen their lips, explore the building a bit. See what you see.

Your fingers are nimble, but your prickling nerves make them fumble as you try the clasp on your necklace. The nail on your pointer can’t seem to hold the small lever down for long enough, even when you twist the chain around so you can lean forward to do it in the mirror. You even consider just tossing it to the side and going without the necklace.

Jeon, standing awkwardly to the side and already having fixed his sleeves in place countless times, glances over to you in the mirror briefly. You sigh when you catch his hesitant watch in the reflection - his shy offer goes unspoken, just a reminder that it’s there if you want to take it. All it takes is a minuscule top of your head to give in.

 Resisting Jeongguk is like resisting gravity. It pulls you down sooner or later, no matter how high or far you push yourself off. But at the end of the day, it keeps you grounded.

His footsteps are barely audible on the carpet as he approaches timidly. Light on his feet, as always. You surrender the ends of the necklace to him and tug the pendant back around to the front. The pads of his fingertips are rough as they drag lightly across your skin in the exchange, igniting a flaming feeling in their path. You can feel the hairs on the back of your neck prickle as he pushes them out of the way with the back of his hand. Considering his extensive training and incredible eye, you’re sure he notices it, but you’re grateful he doesn’t say anything.

You try not to let your eyes wander in the mirror for too long. For your excursion tonight, your dress is one of the best you own - a simple, dark satin gown with a generous leg slit to steal some eyes, but not enough to make you uncomfortable. The deep cowl neck is flattering in its pristine v-shape, especially with the way the pendant hangs itself just above.

Jeon is sporting all black. His shirt is ironed smoothly, fitting well over his shoulders and tucked with care into his trousers and secured with a sturdy belt. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows to reveal his skin, tattoos peeking out in a shamelessly appealing way, and the collar…

Okay, too much. You’ll go into sensory overload if you look any longer. He’s caught onto it, the way a smirk creeps onto his face. He lingers a second longer after he’s clasped the jewelry in place. The Gguk you know flicks his eyes up quickly and throws a small, short smile your way, hands reluctant to pull away as they take the time to drift over your bare shoulders.

You clear your throat, taking the initiative to get on your way. He hides the way his spirit dips at the rejection, but he knows he can’t expect more. Once you’re outside and have locked the door behind you, the night air hits you, cool and fresh and promising. But for what exactly, you can’t be sure.

☆☆☆

The Belvedere is one of the most expensive-looking places in the city - in the months since you’d last worked a case around the gambling district, it had certainly been renovated. At the very front, the casino’s name glows light blue in a thin font while large ivory columns hold up a wide intricate ceiling to shade the pavilion. A wall of luxe glass doors lines the entrance, so sparkly and reflecting you think it can’t be just glass. 

As inviting as the front entrance seems, it is not your way in. Too many scrutinizing eyes, too many cautious cameras, too much security for your type of job. That leads you to the side of the building, a small alley between buildings with one side entrance. The agency already looped the footage twenty minutes ago just to be safe.

But of course when you try it, it’s locked.

“And… what now? They’ll notice if we just break in.”

Jeon shrugs. “Maybe not until a little while. Besides, we’re covered.” His pointer finds the camera up above the two of your for reference.

“I’d rather hold off on the damage we do.”

As he racks his brain for another option, your brain tunes in to the muted sound of shoes on linoleum. He raises a question just as you put your ear to the door but your shush quiets him immediately. The footsteps are coming your way.

Just as you feel the door about to open, you tug Jeon to the side next to the door’s hinge, pulling him down by his collar into a kiss. The door opens loudly and his hands, after his initial shock dissipates, find themselves on your waist as your own snake their way around his neck. You make sure one hand covers the side of his face generously and that your hair masks your own, meanwhile Jeon can’t help himself from getting swept up in you.

A guard, you think it is, halts when he sees the two of you, but takes it off his radar when he can no longer stand to watch your shamelessness. Or rather, Jeon’s shamelessness. His lips persistently press themselves to yours, nipping and pulling all the while his large hands push into your waist. Something about it makes you think it’s not just for a distraction.

The man shakes his head and turns the opposite direction, walking out toward the street. Before the heavy door falls closed behind him, you reach an arm out to grab the handle. Jeon pulls back slowly, blinking dumbfoundedly. He never thought you’d do such a thing - but clearly, it wasn’t such a thing to you by the way you were grinning like you’d only told a joke. He swallows, mentally slapping himself in a note to get himself together. You’re already stepping inside, and he picks up to follow suit.

You follow the hallway down the main room, and no one raises any concern, probably unable to sense suspicion in their state of inebriation. The two of you weave your way through crowds of people with too much money to spend, quietly thinking of how easy it would be to pickpocket them - but that’s for another time. 

A quick scan of the room provides you with the bar, rows of slot machines, pool tables, and a large lounge area filled with the sounds of mindless chatter and glasses clinking. You order drinks to blend in, nothing alcoholic, because as much as you wish you could get drunk and have fun in a casino, that wasn’t the reason you were here. Jeon hands you your coke with a practiced movement.

In a cheesy sort of cheers, he says, “To… the Lion and the Scorpion? Or is that too soon?” He purses his lips, half scared you’ll agree its too soon. It’s relief when he hears the laugh he missed so dearly.

“Not too soon, just a little embarrassing.” You clink your glass to his and take a sip. Jeon leads you over to the dartboards in excitement, one of his favorites to partake in. He chooses the one at the end of the row so you can stand beside him, supposedly to be impressed by his skills and praise him.

“God, this reminds me of Macau,” he sighs out contently. His coffee eyes roam around the large expanse of the hall, seeming to glitter under the crystal chandeliers hanging above you as he walks back from the controls, darts in hand. He gets into position and throws his first, landing for two points in the ring of red. As if you didn’t already know, he adds, “I loved Macau.”

You scoff. “What, because of the way our covers were blown and we had to massacre the lobby, or the sex?”

“Why not both?” He shrugs, smirk creeping onto his face. Another dart leaves his grip, expert aim leading right to the bullseye.

You take another sip of your drink. “Careful,” you warn, “Can’t be too good at this. It comes with questions.”

He hums, and you wonder if he’s even listening. “And you still had blood on your chest. Weirdly sexy.” His eyes narrow jokingly as he speaks just low enough so only you can hear it, and the reaction it pulls from you is exactly what he wanted when he starts to laugh. He lets go of his last dart with a shake of his head, either at the memory or his bad throw that says he’s going fishing.

He turns back to you. At your annoyed expression, he takes another swig of his drink and leans down to your ear. “Seriously though. That was hot.”

You roll your eyes before sending a scowl his way. “I’ll make sure to be extra messy tonight, just for you.” Your eyes crinkle peevishly. The sarcastic tone doesn’t escape him, but he does look hopeful.

“Hey, speaking of, this could be my New Macau. If you’re feeling frisky after the mission.” He throws you a flirtatious wink. While your poker face implies disinterest, your stomach is somersaulting head over heels, and you have a feeling he knows it by the way his eyes linger on you when you raise your glass to your lips. 

The phone in your purse vibrates. It’s a text from Yeji - need to get a move on. Jeon already has your gaze when you look back to meet him, but he knows it’s time from your expression alone. With a small nod, he goes up to end the game on the machine’s screen. Instead of coming back to you, though, he subtly taps your arm as he walks past and heads off to the door of the main floor, disappearing from your sight. You wait for a good thirty seconds, let people pass across the camera view at random, before hopping down from the barstool to follow in his footsteps.

You find him waiting in a secluded hallway, away from crowds or casino-regulars. He looks solemn, back pressed against the wall, and you have a feeling that what he has to say might upset you. He thinks so, too.

“Listen, you have to make a decision now. Before we split up, because there’s a chance I might not see you after this.”

You shrug. “I haven’t decided yet.” His eyebrows draw together as he gives you a pleading expression. His eyes flick to both sides of the hall before coming back to you, releasing a deep breath before pushing his hair from his eyes.

“I gave you the time, Y/N. You have to before it’s too late.” Jeon gulps, fumbling for the words. “Just come with me, please. I know it’s a lot to ask and I know you’re scared but you can trust me. I can help you.”

“No, Gguk. You don’t get it - It’s not possible. It’s not an option.” You sigh in resignation. A depleted smile surfaces as you shake your head. “Not in this life.”

“I’m not leaving you.”

“You did it once, you can do it again.”

“I’m not… I- I won’t. Y/N, please…” His lip quivers, his eyes glossing over.

He can’t accept the answer your silence provides. It’s not enough, not something he’s willing to endure. If it’s going to be a no, he has to hear it loud and clear.

He purses his lips tight. “I’ll flip a coin then.”

“...What?”

“I’ll flip a coin. Heads, you come with me. Tails, I’ll go,” he says shakily, swallowing, “...and I’ll never speak to you again.”

Before you can stop him, he’s wiping away the tears that have not yet had the chance to escape and aggressively fishing a quarter from his pocket, placing it on the tip of his thumb. Desperation burns in him, but you’re paralyzed. All you can do is stare, a fish out of water being held in the grip of an angler who just can’t let go. Or maybe one that’s urging you back out to sea.

His thumb flicks and the coin flies, the sound barely audible in this corner of the building but piercing to your ears. It flips in the air, every rotation executed with purpose - in that moment, as its arc nearly completes, the thought strikes you like lightning and without a second thought, you hand reaches up and snatches it midair.

Jeon is awestruck. He searches for something to say as his fountain of hope runs dry.

Weakly, you mutter, “Okay.” Its compliance, but a strange relief that makes you feel guilty the second it washes over you.

“Okay?”

“I’ll come.”

A tight-lipped smile spreads on his face - it’s the best he can do after such stress. In a heartbeat, he embraces you tightly, broad shoulders enveloping your form. His grip is familiar and only full of good things, even if it might suffocate you. His long, wavy locks brush lightly against your jaw as he buries his face in your neck. For once, you let yourself have that rare moment of comfort. 

“I won’t let you down,” he says, a vocal assurance for himself maybe more than for you. He thinks that maybe he shouldn’t say it, but he has to. “I promise.” 

It’s his first small triumph tonight. If nothing else, it is a debt repaid. He won’t push for more. He pulls back, lets you fix your hair and readjust your dress.

“Let’s get a move on. I’ll search the main floor, you take a look around the building. Keep in touch.”

You’re about to turn away from him, but his arm catches your wrist at the last second. When you look back to see what he has to say, he has trouble finding the right words.

“Listen… Y/N, I don’t know what it is, but I have this awful feeling. And I’m trying to ignore it, I know I’m probably just nervous, but I just want you to know in case. You don’t have to say anything…”

The hair framing your face bounces as your head begins to shake, trying to deny him before he can even say it. “No, Gguk, I know-”

“No. I...I love you. And you gotta know that, no matter what happens.” His thumb traces small circles on the patch of skin where yours meets your index. Before you have a chance to respond, he gives your hand a tight squeeze and plants a chaste kiss to your cheek, lips plush and sweet against your dimple, his last action as your token of remembrance. 

He doesn’t know why he feels so frail as he walks away, wiping away the wetness leaking from his eyes as he tries to calm himself down. Maybe it’s the lack of information, maybe it’s you possibly being in danger again. He tries to push it down as he struggles to resist the urge to look back at you; He’s just all up in his head, right? You can defend yourself, you’ll be fine without him, he reassures himself. You can make rope from kitchen twine.

You’re stuck on your own as the distance between you grows, heart racing as your time to say it back runs out like sand in an hourglass. In less than seconds, his figure has already disappeared around the corner.

A delicate finger reaches up to press the small button on the spyware piece tucked behind your ear. The whisper is low but you mean every syllable, regardless of the leftover turmoil that has consistently tempted you into anger the past few years - “I love you, Jeongguk.”

It’s a shot in the dark for you without his physical presence, but he hears it. It’s barely audible, but he hears it, and rings in his mind for moments after. It makes him feel right, like the moment when everything sifts into the bowl perfectly, no clumps of doubt left behind in the minuscule metal crosshatches. Even if just for a few seconds, the feeling of relief stays frozen in time.

You’re on your way back to the main hall when a buzz from your purse alerts you to an unknown number calling your phone. Typically you’d let it ring, thinking it was spam - but considering this was an agency phone, that wouldn’t make much sense. Your finger hovers over the green accept button, hesitantly pressing down and lifting it to your ear. 

The response is immediate. “The Scorpion,” a man on the other end addresses you, sounding much too enthusiastic for your taste. His voice is masked with a changer, the tone fluctuating as he speaks. “I’m glad you could make it tonight. I’ve spent a lot to make this place nice.”

The theatrics elicit an impatient eye roll from you. “Who is this?”

“Who do you think? You’re a smart cookie. There’s a reason they call you the Scorpion, isn’t there?”

He lets the pause marinate and continues, “I actually wanted to meet with you. I need to discuss something vital to you in person, but you’ll have to do some things for me first.”

You begin to turn around, spinning on your heels and intent on heading to Jeongguk downstairs, but the voice on the phone stops you. “Where do you think you’re going?”

You freeze, an eyebrow raising at the voice’s inquiry. Keen eyes scan quickly, landing on the faceless lens of a security camera - 

“It’s my casino. Of course I can see what you’re doing.”

A skeptical breath escapes you, squinting at the camera focused on your position. “...What do you want?”

“I just want to talk.” It’s casual.

“How do I know it’s not a trap?” “You don’t. But you don’t have any other option, really. If you need convincing… why don’t you check your home security?”

The dubious persona falters as your heart stops. It couldn’t be. You exit the call and open the app on your phone right away, and a sinking feeling hits you like a truck on the freeway, full speed and with reckless abandon. The view from the camera, grey and grainy, displays the apartment in pieces, furniture overthrown and papers scattered. The dread crawls up your spine as your worst nightmare, the one thing you always prayed for despite the lack of faith, comes to life; Penny is gone.

You call the number back.

“What now?” you say, jaw clenched. trying to calm your breathing.

“Take out your earpiece, toss it to the floor, and crush it. I need to protect my location somehow, right? Just a precaution.”

You slowly remove the receiver from its spot nestled in around your ear, thumbing the tiny matte black tech. It’s your connection to the outside, to safety. It’s your connection to Jeongguk. But the Falcon has played his cards right, leaving you with no other option. It falls from your fingertips, clatters to the linoleum, and you crush it underneath your heel.

“Now, your weapons. My guards will come to escort you - hand over your gun and any knives you may have on you. I know you’re sneaky, but now… really isn’t the time. I’ll see you in a bit.” A cold click ends the call and he’s gone.

On cue, two masked men dressed in all black emerge. They don’t frighten you, you know you could take them if you needed to. However, the priority is Penny, so you have to. You surrender your weapons and phone to them, and then they begin to shuffle you away to wherever the Falcon had made his nest.

Despite the nerves prickling like electric shocks, uneasiness itches in the back of your mind. Something about the phone call - was it the strange familiarity that made you feel so nauseous? You couldn’t quite place your finger on what was so off, on what about it pulled the alarm, but something besides the obvious situation at hand was wrong.

☆☆☆

Jeongguk doesn’t have much to go off of. He’s looking for something, anything, that can clue him in. He finds a creepy looking stairwell and decides to take it down. That’s how you find everything in need of being found, right? By following what feels off?

He comes to a storage room full of dusty metal shelves, all lined with boxes upon boxes. He takes a quick sweep of the room, shrugging to himself before delving into one. It’s just piles of text he doesn’t understand, pages and pages of orders and receipts dating back years and years. Maps of the building, information of repairs and inventory and renovations. It doesn’t mean anything useful, until he sees orders under names that ring a bell.

But from where? People he went to school with, maybe? For the life of him, he can’t remember where he knows them from.

He’s frantically flipping through pages, pulling boxes from the shelves and trying his best to read under the dim light. It’s not making any sense, until he lands on orders filed under the name… Jeon?

He freezes, all alone in the middle of a storage room full of thousands of documents, a sickly feeling washing over him.

A trembling hand reaches up to press the button on his earpiece.

“Y/N? I think I just found something.”

He waits, and no response from you.

“...Y/N?”

☆☆☆

The penthouse is in the heart of the city, just a few blocks away from the Belvedere. The view is enough to tell it to you - it overlooks miles of blinking lights and busy streets with which you have an archetypal love-hate relationship with. 

You’ve stepped fresh off the elevator into an open room that is in dire need of an interior decorator, or at the very least some basic furnishing. It’s basically empty, the dark hardwood floors even coated with a light layer of dust. Nothing except the moon and the fireplace at the other end of the room illuminate the space.

There’s shuffling, and the guards on either side of you are grabbing firmly onto your arms.

“What the fuck are you doing?” You struggle against them, fighting to get out of their grip, but one of them mutters how it’ll be better for you if you cooperate. You strain against the instinct to escape, every bone in your body screaming disgusted by the forced submission. Handcuffs click into place, and pressure on your shoulders pushes you to your knees. Then, they resign themselves to the back corners of the room.

A door creaks open at the far side of the room. The man sports a dark coat that obscures his figure, and long, dark hair hangs over the man’s face. His steps are slow and calculated on the wooden floor as he makes his way to the fire. Slender, practiced fingers grab onto the poker and stir the fire, glowing orange embers soaring in a blizzard of an inferno. A silver ring glints in the moonlight - one you’d recognize anywhere.

The details flood back, chains of connections like dominoes tipping over the edge of gut-wrenching betrayal - 

“...Boss?”

The man pauses, followed by a sudden clasp of his hands in… delight?

He spins on the heel of his oxfords to face you, hair sweeping back as he smiles at you.

“Keen as ever, my dear. You truly are the Scorpion. I know how you feel about your title, but you’re deserving of it.” 

A shaky breath leaves your throat, eyes stinging as you make out a low, “What is this?”

At the sight of your panic, the boss hurries over to you, making a show of how he takes your jaw in his hands. Though you flinch, he wipes the escaping tear with a calloused thumb.

“No, dear, no need to cry! This doesn’t have to be difficult. You are just leverage - you won’t be hurt as long as what needs to happen, happens.” The way he shakes his head, the twisted compassion in his eyes, makes you sick.

“Then where’s Penny?”

His sigh is accompanied by a sad smile. “Penny is the leverage over you. In case you get any funny ideas.”

“For what? What is this about?” you press, “What about the Syndicate, huh? Aren’t you gonna tell me what this is for?”

A rush of air, and then a sharp pressure on your throat. The Boss’s blade creeping up your throat - a small burn as he nicks your skin. 

“I’d watch my mouth if I were you. You should remember where your loyalties lie.”

You swallow thickly, and he continues.

“The Syndicate is real. Their presence in this city is real - but we are on good terms with them. I help them, they help me. They sacrifice a few men because they do what’s needed for the terms of the agreement, just like us.”

He blew up a building, ransacked the agency, led you on a wild goose chase in search of a threat that didn’t exist? There was always something psychotic about the Boss, that’s why he instilled so much fear in you - his lack of empathy, the lengths he’d go just for a show of power, but a ploy like this?

“And what’s that got to do with me?”

He scoffs. “It’s not about you, my dear. It never was. It’s about your connection to who it is about…”

His grin grows inverse to your pained frown, lips quivering as the realization dawns on you. “Jeongguk.”

“You’re the link, Y/N. I know how much you hate to love him. Only if you were forced to for the sake of the city. The reconnection wouldn’t be easy, but that boy is persistent, and the moment he heard you say those words back, it was sealed.”

You’re choked by the weight of his words crashing down on your throat. It’s horrifying, the way the tears well up and spill recklessly, finding it hard to breathe with your arms restrained. You focus your hardest on the effort to stay conscious, but the nausea is eating away at you.

“He was honest, too. He’s tried multiple times to fish you out of here. And it always rubbed me the wrong way. He’ll leave me behind, but not you? You’re my best, Y/N, but I despise you simply because of what your existence means.”

“You’re going to kill him?” you bite your lip to hold back the sob trying to crawl its way from your chest.

The Boss blinks, tilting his head in a faked compassion. “Only if he makes the same mistake again.”

An alert sounds out from his pocket. He fishes out his phone and holds it up to show you a map with a green dot steady on a location, seemingly yours.

“And it looks like we’ll find out right about… now.”

The elevator behind you opens, and the guards point their guns straight at the figure stepping off. His gun is held up protectively, but he has nowhere to go, face falling as he reads the situation - reads the pain on your face as you stare back at him on the floor.

He lowers his pistol, glaring at the man waiting smugly in front of him.

“Nice to see you again, Jeongguk.”

His lip turns down in disgust, spitting rancor - 

“Can’t say the same for myself, Dad.”

☆☆☆

The tension in the air is tight, like a thousand strings of yarn pinned wall to wall and floor to ceiling and impossible to maneuver. The Boss tsks at the cold reunion, more bitter than he had hoped. 

“What, you didn’t miss me all these years? I raised you, after all.”

“Raised me?” Jeongguk scoffs incredulously. “Try training me into your personal pawn, like some fucked up trophy for you to flaunt.”

“It was only so you could someday take my spot, son. I treated you the same way my father did me.”

The bitter timbre of his voice is laced with venom, so uncharacteristic of the Jeongguk you know. “Well, I worked out my daddy issues with a therapist. Maybe you should give it a shot. You should also probably mention how fucked up you are to plan a scheme like this just to bring me here.”

“You left, Jeongguk. I’d do anything for my son.”

“Oh, please-”

A loud click, and cool metal pressed against your forehead. Jeongguk freezes, and he knows the stakes. His blood boils from the blatant manipulation. There was a reason he left - he hated feeling this exact moment, and he hated reliving it even more. It was a place he thought he’d never be in again.

The Boss rolls his eyes again. “Always with something to say, forgetting I’m your elder, your father no less. Plan on letting me speak soon?”

His eyes are as cool as Jeongguk’s now. Dark, disappeared from dramatic frills or drawn-out tones. The resemblance is stunning, strikes fear in your heart, both physical and the mannerisms long-buried by time now resurfaced by each other.

When you meet the Boss’s eyes, they show no remorse for someone he claimed thinks of as his best.

Jeongguk’s eyes flick down and back up. Cooperation.

“Thank you.” He pulls the gun away, letting you catch a breath. “It’s simple, son. You agree to come back, and everything goes smoothly. If not, you won’t be leaving this room alive, and neither will she. Can’t have my trump cards playing against me.”

“Leave her out of this.”

“She’s the reason you’re here, how could I leave her out of this?”

“This is you and me. Not her.”

His father muses the idea, chews it up, spits it out. “Okay,” he grins. “Just us. I’d say go until one surrenders, but that’s not how us Jeons do it. If you can kill me, you’re free to do what you want.”

The guards lower their weapons, leaving the room at a snap of the Boss’s fingers, and Jeongguk’s grip on his tightens, knuckles turning white as he nods sharply in agreement. He’s been caught, a three-year-long game of cat and mouse finally come to a standstill. The man he looks at is just another cruel, cold-hearted crook on a power trip. The last thing he wants to do is fight him, because as skilled as Jeongguk might be, his father is equally such. He also has the upper hand: No feelings of remorse.

But he sees you on the floor, and when it comes to your life on the line, he knows he’d do anything. No matter the risk or the cost, he’d play a losing hand if he had to, if just to keep the fear from your mind. He steps past you, eyes speaking of reassurance when they meet yours, but it’s not a promise. 

Once Jeongguk has made his way around you to the center of the room, the Boss’s attention falls to you.

“Hear that, dear? This is a family issue. But in case you need any more convincing…”

The same door he creaked through minutes ago flies open, and in shuffles two people. Penny’s figure mirrors your own, arms tied behind her back. Her eyes are red and puffy, hair mussed and clothes wrinkled. There’s no blood or bruising visible, but it kills you the second you lay eyes on her. Your chest heaves silently, panic rising as she is brought in front of the fireplace, led by… Yeji?

The sleek, dark ponytail is unmistakable, and her cat eyes flick over to you in guilt as your words confirm her presence.

“I’m sorry,” she mouths, tears clouding her eyes. “I didn’t know.”

It was impossible to believe how easily everything was collapsing. Maybe your foundations were not as strong as you once thought. Wasn’t it just a week ago you had last spoken to her, taken her advice on working with Jeongguk?

“Again. No need for anyone to get hurt as long as you don’t interfere.”

But would Yeji hurt Penny, even at the Boss’s command? Was she that scared of him? Penny finds you, and you try your best to communicate reassurance, but you fall short. She trembles in fear the same as you.

Without warning, the Boss’s blade flies across the room. Jeongguk side steps, but the red gash sliced along his cheek taunts him for being a second too late. He reaches up a finger to dab at the blood in awe.

His anger fuels him forward. He raises his gun, ringing out shots that bury themselves in the drywall as he closes the gap. The Boss dodges each one. Slender fingers pull the gun from its holster, firing back immediately, glass shattering behind the younger.

Jeongguk zig zags on his feet, blade swinging up viciously at his father while he pulls the trigger in his left hand. The Boss is quick despite his age, no hesitation to his wide, ruthless swings. Jeongguk ducks and spins, changing their positions, knocking a knife from his grasp.

The man laughs. “That was good, but you can do better!” he yells, evading Jeongguk’s relentless swipes. As he taunts, a shard of glass reaches your vicinity. “Or are you too scared to hurt your old man?”

Your fingers bleed hot as you force the shard into the keylock, lifting up the metal lever.

It only fuels Jeongguk’s fire. A firm kick to the chest sends the Boss stumbling back. Jeongguk progresses, his knife dropping around in his grip, taking the slim moment to drive a sharp ice pick stab to his father's shoulder.

His eyes flick to you, and he doesn’t have the time to pull it back out. His father parries his left wrist outward and the gun is knocked from his fingertips, skidding to the floor, arriving kindly right in front of you. A single shot blasts out and Jeongguk lets out a clipped yelp. Your wrists free from the lock and reach for the solution just inches away.

But it’s already checkmate. The Boss’ blade is pressed up against Jeongguk’s throat, who is on his knees as he clutches at his thigh, crimson seeping through his fingers.

“Has the Lion been tamed since I last saw him?” The Boss mocks. There is nowhere for Jeongguk to go. “I’m disappointed, son. Love has made you weak.”

It steals the breath from your lungs. His eyes dart to your figure, mirroring his son’s actions just moments ago. He dares you to make a move. With his play, you can’t.

But that’s where the Boss is wrong. The man void of love sees it as a shot with a predetermined course from point A to point B, easily interfered with by the right tools, by the right move. However, love should not be mistaken for something meager. It’s an ever-weaving thread, crossing and connecting each and every way. Love does not have to be star-crossed and dire, it is not always a fated, tragic romance. There is no one love to outlast all others - not when it can be one you choose.

Yeji meets your eyes from across the room. The Boss has only a bluff catcher against her, the mistake of expecting loyalty before knowing for sure. It’s a twisted collusion that you never would have chosen, but it’s not your hand to play anymore.

Her vision is blurry through her tears. Yeji takes a breath she’s sure will be her last and releases it shakily. She has to do it now. She thinks of every other woman roped into his scheme, every future Penny that will be taken if it doesn’t end here, and she knows you can do it, because she was never strong enough to.

“Forgive me,” she croaks. 

An enraged bellow leaves the Boss, but all too late. She has already fired, breaking the lock that has held you captive all these years. A scream rips from your throat as Penny’s body falls forward and collapses to the hardwood.

Yeji is shredded by the entourage of bullets ripping from the Boss’s gun. She stumbles back, hits the wall, sinks to the floor.

Your hands instinctively reach for the weapon in front of you, hands fumbling as you pull the trigger with the weight of a thousand lives behind your index alone. The Boss falls, knife slipping from his fleeting grip, the third and final seal to the game.

The silence is stunning. Nothing feels real. It’s all shock before the pain rushes in, the inability to breath, the feeling of drowning. It’s utter anguish as you fight to the other side of the room, but Jeongguk holds you back. Pushing past him, only for him to spin you around and make you look him in the eye.

“We have to go,” he says through gritted teeth, voice cracking. His eyes plead with you as they blink away tears. Blood coats his hands, urgently dripping down his wrists as they grip yours. “Y/N, we have to go.”

 It dawns just as the day on the glowing horizon behind him that it’s over, but there is no victory in sight.

☆☆☆

The coming days are a whirlwind. Most of the time you’re numb, finding yourself stuck in your mind replaying memories over and over, and wincing to pull yourself out of them to the real world that is not much better. The funerals are a blur, long and tiring processions of black and sympathies you are not capable of accepting that leave your head pounding by the time you finally can sleep. But the dream world is not as kind to you as you would have hoped. 

It isn’t the memory of her death. It’s the memory of her smile, bright and tender, that could not see another day to shine. You haven’t stepped foot in the apartment yet. You will at some point, but not yet.

Yeji is another story. It’s a moral dilemma of what your inner compass tells you is wrong and your love for the only friend you ever had. Yeji was not bad, you know that. But it was murder, and perhaps that was why it did not go unpunished. Were her actions the results of weakness, or strength? Of personal desire, or wide-scale consideration? You could spend hours wondering whether things might have been different if she hadn’t done it, but at the end of the day, you would never get the chance to know. 

In the meantime, the mafia is collapsing. Those who wanted to leave took their chance the second the news of the Boss’s death came in. Ran away to other cities, shelters, anywhere they could to get away from the struggle of the organization. Others who had nothing else are stranded picking up the pieces. They won’t be able to make a comeback, you know that. They’ll turn to other forms of crime, maybe even those that you’ll have to face again in the future.

You can get away from it all for a few moments of peace, but not much more.

Jeongguk’s apartment is close to the marina. He’s lucky for such a beautiful view. This early in the morning, the world is silent, relaxing without the mindless bustling of life. Boats float calmly across the harbor, sails reaching up to the sky streaked with blossoming pinks and clement oranges. Daybreak’s retiring light glitters as it touches the surface of the water with a gentle hand.

The glass door slides open slowly behind you, and Jeongguk’s presence enters to calm your thoughts. The slight limp in his step is barely visible, and he’s lucky that his father’s bullet avoided his femoral artery. If it did, he’d probably be in a much more dire situation than he has now. Since that night, rumors have surfaced that the Boss missed due to nervousness, or fear. Jeongguk knows that his father’s aim was too sharp to miss, and also that he was a hypocrite.

He takes a seat in the chair beside yours. His hair is mussed from a long night of tossing and turning, the same as yours.

“Couldn’t sleep,” you mutter, tongue coated with exhaust.

He hums. “Me neither.”

The flux of air from his sturdy chest is a comfort that relieves the pain for just a little while. Lifts it away like a fog being cleared, and the weight falls off your shoulders so you can breathe again. His eyes swim with affection, and you’re sure that a thousand particles of stardust must be locked away behind his irises.

It never fails to amaze you how Jeongguk always seems to know what you’re thinking. “It’s not your fault,” he says.

“I know.” It’s weak, barely a whisper. Your head drops to your palms despite your claim. “But it really feels like it.”

He takes a deep breath, atmosphere placid and unassuming. “You did everything you could. Some things are just out of your control, no matter what you do. It’s not fair, but just because you couldn’t stop something bad from happening doesn’t mean you caused it.”

You swallow blearily. “I just don’t even know where to go from here. It’s never going to be the same. So what do I do now?”

“I don’t know,” he speaks gingerly, “Maybe you should get out of here. Start again, somewhere else. I’ll probably do the same eventually.”

Your head begins to shake at the thought.

“I don’t want you to go,” you pause. “I told you that.”

Jeongguk softens. “Oh… okay. I, I won’t then.”

Finally, your head raises to see him properly. His calm guise masks the need of reassurance beneath. “I mean it. Do you remember when you said to tell you the next time so it didn’t land on what I didn’t want?”

He nods slowly.

“When it was in the air, there was just this split second watching it that it hit me. I knew what I wanted. Despite everything,” the corners of your mouth upturn, but not all that happily, “I wanted to choose you.”

Dark, wavy hair falls in front of his eyes, brushing at the healing cut that will certainly leave a scar. His gaze is tender and soft and all that’s good in this world. He looks at you like you’re the only thing he’s ever wanted. And if you asked him, he wouldn’t hesitate to agree.

“I forgive you, Jeongguk. For everything, I don’t care. I’d go through it again and again if I had to.” A fleeting smile pushes the tears from their deep wells. “‘Cause I need you.”

Jeongguk suffered the subtle heartbreak of unknowing for years on end. He’d sit on his balcony just like this, mild evenings under the setting sun, knowing you were out there living under the same sky as him, yet so far apart. He thought of you crossing city streets, breathing the air of the home you loved and hated simultaneously, maybe even sitting out on the fire escape of your own apartment. You were within a radius of just miles, which sounds like nothing compared to how far he’d go for you. 

He saw you everywhere. Saw you in every crevice and crack of the city. When the sun was shining brightly, when rain poured like bullets. From the window of the train, from the coffee shop. Retracing his routine steps was hard when he always saw your footprints right beside his own.

It was the feeling he’d been waiting on. At last, he feels contentment in his chest. It’s all he’s ever wanted. His pulse stutters as he thinks that he might just be dreaming, but when he reaches out to touch your clasped hands, steady fingers curling over yours, he knows it’s real. You’re real. It’s pure, unadulterated sunshine splintering over his soul.

Jeongguk stands, holding out his hand for you to take. He pulls you up with care and tugs you into his embrace, warm and kind. His arms around you are safe and sound, and the gentle beat of his heart eases the noise in your mind. It’s the heart that wouldn’t quit on you, the one the angels must either admire or envy. It’s the only thing that feels okay.

One day, things will be better. It’s far away and hard to grasp, but it’s there, waiting for you. Things that are meant to be will find a way, no matter how long it takes, just as Jeongguk and you found your way to this very balcony. But for now, sharing the weight of a heavy heart soothes the lonesome burden of loss, and what it means to love.

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook oneshot #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook angst #btsguild #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts oneshot #bts angst #jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #bts fluff #bts x reader #jungkook scenario #jungkook x you #jungkook fic #jungkook imagine #bts imagine #yoondoze

[jaskierswolf]

Hello, dearest Wolfie 💜 I come before you with this prompt: hair stylist Jaskier (netflix) with Dandelion (book). Maybe they’re strangers at the salon, maybe they’re friends or roommates in the house bathroom or home salon? Dandy’s particularly sensitive to touch/hair pulling and might accidentally moan while Jask is massaging his scalp 👀 Can get as horny you as you want it to

This fic comes to you courtesy of vodka... so apologies for errors? I did try and proof read.

1.5k of smutty bards.

CW: 18+, masturbation, hair pulling kink, talks of blow jobs and anal,

Dandelion squirmed in his chair feeling strangely nervous. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust his roommate, because honestly if anyone could cut hair well it would be Jaskier, but he’d never let anyone except his hairdresser cut his hair before. Unfortunately with lockdown rules, that was no longer an option and Dandelion’s hair was getting ratty at the ends, despite his meticulous hair care routine. It was making him irritable and he’d kept snapping at Jaskier over the smallest of things. He knew he was being a bastard but it wasn’t his fault. He missed people and going outside. He missed their gigs and even their shifts at the coffee shop. Fortunately, Jaskier seemed to know him better than he knew himself at times and the brunet had marched him into the kitchen and pushed him down into one of the chairs, demanding that he sit still whilst Jaskier got the scissors.

Dandelion pouted whilst he waited. He didn’t appreciate being told what to do but Jaskier was right. He desperately needed a hair cut. His hair was now halfway down his back instead of sitting just below his shoulders. He whined and covered his face with his hands.

“Right, got everything!” Jaskier announced as he bundled back into the room, arms full of bottles from their bath room. “I’ve always wanted to play at being a hair dresser.”

Dandelion sighed and raised an eyebrow at his friend. “If you want to wash my hair then we’re going to the bathroom. You can put those back,” he gestured to the shampoo bottles with a flick of his wrist. “I’ll go for a shower first.”

Jaskier snorted and put his hands on his hips, tossing his fringe from his eyes. “We are doing this properly! I get to wash your hair too.”

They stared at each other for a moment, almost identical blue eyes glaring at each other across the room, until Dandelion sighed dramatically. “Fine, but afterwards I am cutting your fringe. It’s driving me mad! You keep messing with it!”

Jaskier pouted back at him. “You. You don’t mean that.”

“I do, now come on my dear, before I change my mind.”

The move to the bathroom did nothing to calm Dandelion’s nerves. If anything it made it worse. Jaskier kept fiddling with the edge of his shirt and moving the shampoo bottles about as Dandelion sat at the edge of their bathtub.

“Let me know if the water is too hot or too cold or. or… whatever,” Jaskier muttered as he pulled the hose off the wall.

Dandelion nodded, leaning awkwardly back so his head was mostly over the tub. He heard the spray of water running and Jaskier ended up squatting awkwardly in the bath behind him, trying to avoid the water beneath his feet.

“Maybe I didn’t think this through?” Jaskier stammered with an awkward laugh.

“Jask,” Dandelion sighed. “Get on with it.”

The water was hot, prickling against his scalp; just how he liked it. He hummed happily at the sensation and he felt the weight of his damp hair shift as Jaskier made sure his whole head was wet through. God he’d missed this. Yes it was more awkward with the weird set up they had in the cramped bathroom instead of the specially made sinks at the hair dressers but he’d always felt pampered. He enjoyed the luxury of someone else washing his hair. It felt intimate, almost sensual.

It didn’t help that his scalp was unbelievably sensitive, always had been, great in the bedroom, less great when getting his hair done, but he’d always managed to keep his reactions under control.

Until now.

Jaskier’s fingers dragged along his scalp, working the shampoo into the roots of his hair. His entire body immediately felt like it was on fire and he let out a low moan.

Jaskier froze.

Dandelion’s eyes flew open.

Nobody said a word for what felt like forever, until Jaskier started to massage his scalp, slowly, tugging gently at his hair to run the shampoo through to the ends. It felt heavenly, Dandelion closed his eyes once more and let himself enjoy the sensation. Jaskier had long musician’s fingers, just like him, and they were magical. It was less of a hair wash and more of a head massage now and Dandelion couldn’t help the breathy moans that escaped his lips.

He was hard by the time Jaskier turned the shower back on to rinse out the shampoo. Neither of them mentioned it but Dandelion knew that Jaskier had noticed. It was too obvious how much he’d been enjoying it for Jaskier not to have noticed.

Jaskier repeated the process with the conditioner, spending more time running his hands through the tips of Dandelion’s hair this time, making sure the conditioner had properly covered them, but the gentle tugs at Dandelion’s hair were like sweet torture. Until he felt Jaskier’s fingers back on his scalp, firm pressure on the most sensitive parts of his scalp.

Dandelion moaned again, unable to help himself. “Jask,” he gasped, voice hoarse “please.”

Jaskier hummed. “Please what, darling?”

“I… I want.”

Jaskier chuckled and his fingers brushed the tips of Dandelion’s ear. He shivered and squeezed his eyes shut tight. Jaskier just pressed a kiss to his forehead, the bastard was really taking advantage of the situation but… Dandelion had been lusting after his roommate for months so he wasn’t complaining.

“What do you want, sweetheart?” Jaskier cooed, pulling a fistful of Dandelion’s hair just hard enough that he could feel a shiver of pleasure down his spine.

Dandelion just whined, his tongue heavy in his mouth, words but a distant memory. He just needed, wanted, desired…

“Do you want my hand on your cock?” Jaskier asked, his voice a husky whisper in Dandelion’s ear as he fingers continued to press against his scalp. “or perhaps you’d prefer my mouth?”

Dandelion moaned, a low guttural moan that should have been embarrassing in its desperation but he was too far gone. “Yes.”

“Touch yourself for me,” Jaskier’s breath tickled his ear “imagine how good it would feel to have my mouth, warm and wet around your cock?”

Dandelion scrambled to unzip his trousers. He gasped as he finally managed to get his cock free, spitting on his hand before slowly starting to stroke his length. It wasn’t nearly as good as having Jaskier’s pretty pink lips around him but with Jaskier’s voice in his ear and his fingers rubbing into his scalp, Dandelion was a wreck. Every time Jaskier’s fingers moved in his hair he felt like the room was on fire, his heart was thundering in his chest and his skin was itching with the heat of his arousal.

He thrust up into his hand with a gasp, biting his lip.

“How long would it take before you’re begging me to fuck you?” Jaskier nipped at his ear, a sharp pain that only heightened his pleasure as he ran his thumb over his slit. “Or would you prefer to cum in my mouth?”

Dandelion could picture it so clearly, Jaskier kneeling at his feet, Dandelion’s cock in his mouth, the contented hums as he sucked and licked at the dick, every sound vibrating around Dandelion until he came down Jaskier’s throat, the brunet would swallow up every last drop, and the smirk on his face, so bloody smug like he’d won the fucking lottery.

God he would be so beautiful.

Dandelion keened, fucking into his own hand, wishing it were Jaskier’s but not wanting to lose the sensation of Jaskier’s fingers running through his hair. He pumped himself harder, feeling the familiar pull as his orgasm draw near, warmth flooding his body, moans and wordless cries falling from his lips.

“That’s it, darling, cum for me…” Jaskier purred in his ear, another tug at Dandelion’s hair.

Dandelion whined as he came all over his hand, collapsing forwards, his clean hand pressing against the cool tiled floor. Jaskier’s voice coaxed him through his orgasm, cooing praises in his ear, hands still loosely in Dandelion’s damp hair.

“Bloody hell…” he muttered as he came back to his senses.

“Fuck, Dandy, if we could record the noises you make, we could make a million pounds over night,” Jaskier whispered, sounding almost as fucked out as Dandelion felt. “You’re so beautiful.”

Dandelion hummed, feeling rather too blissful to answer.

“Let’s finish rinsing your hair then I’ll cut it for you,” Jaskier pressed a kiss to his temple “and then, well, I’d like to take you to bed?”

The last part came out as a question, a slight crack in Jaskier’s voice. Dandelion shook free of Jaskier’s grasp and turned to face his friend. Jaskier’s cheeks were flushed, the pink trailing down his neck and beneath his t-shirt where there was just a tease of dark chest hair peaking out at the neckline. Dandelion grinned and pulled his friend into a kiss, licking into Jaskier’s mouth and biting at his bottom lip as he pulled away. “I would like nothing more.”

______

Tag list: @frances-the-red @thecomfortofoldstorries @elliestormfound @honeysuckletook @bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher @hailhailsatan @dani-dandelino  @artistsfuneral  @kittynannygaming @selectivegeekwithstandards @thecomfortofoldstorries @fontegagrilledcheese @anythinggoesfandoms @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde @veritasrose @trickstermoose67 @nonegenderleftpain @kueble @justjess94 @skai6 @damatris @wherethewordsare @dapandapod @mayastormborn @jaskierslastbraincell

#the witcher #jaskilion #jaskier x dandelion #jaskier/dandelion #nsft #wolfie's witcher writing #suddenly-a-twilight-blog

[canid-slashclaw]

The Outliers - A Guild Wars Love Story

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9,  Chapters 10 and 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16 , Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20,  Chapter 21, Chapter 22, Chapter 23,  Chapter 24, Chapter 25, Chapter 26, Chapter 27, Chapter 28, Chapter 29, Chapter 30, Chapter 31, Chapter 32, Chapter 33 Chapter 34

The airship was abuzz with panicked passengers who ran about desperately across the decks. Several of the brigands brandished muskets and rapiers threatening to disembowel anyone who did not comply with their demands.

Kaleb ran up several flights of stairs while frisking his pockets, trying to find the keys to their honeymoon suite. Amalthia shook her head and groaned.

"You would lose your head if it weren't attached to your shoulders, you know that don't you?" She said to him in a patronizing tone.

"Hey. Cut me some slack, will ya? I thought I kept them in my pants pocket," Kaleb retorted.

"You thought wrong," she chuffed as several scared passengers ran down the stairs, some tripping over their own feet.

"I think this is the right hallway. Let's go!"

The husband and wife bounty hunters made a mad dash though the narrow passageway as Kaleb recognized the number to their luxury suite.

"This is it!"

"Still no keys, huh?"

"Well, don't you have a blowtorch stuffed somewhere under your garter?"

Amalthia looked at him and smiled as she gave him a lick on his cheek. "As a matter of fact I do."

She lifted up her skirt, revealing a small butane torch that she always kept with her in case of unseen emergencies.

"I'll just kick the door down. It's much faster," Kaleb said as he gave the sturdy wooden door a full-forced kick. To his chagrin, it didn't budge.

"Nice try, but you don't have the leverage. I'll just cut the hasps. The dummies who installed these doors forgot to put them on the inside."

Once the torch was lit, Amalthia began slicing through the door hinges. It took less than two minutes for them to be cut. After the doorway was weakened, they pulled it aside and rushed into their suite hoping to find their luggage. Moments later, the couple they had run into earlier at the dining hall appeared through the now gaping door frame.

"My gods! It's you two... did you not hear that there are..."

Amalthia cut the husband off in mid sentence. "Pirates. We know. Love, any luck with our suitcase?"

Kaleb rummaged through some smaller bags until he found the right one. "Got it!"

The woman interjected. "Harold. These are the same annoying people who were making all that racket last night."

"I think that's the least of our problems, dear. Hey guy. Leave the luggage. It's not worth your life," the woman's husband said.

"Tell me you have the key to our luggage. I hear more than one pair of unfriendly footsteps coming up fast," Amalthia said as she snarled in frustration.

Kaleb fished his pockets for a moment before locating what he needed to find.

"Key! Got it!"

With a quick twist of the locks, the suitcase opened revealing an arsenal of weapons. Kaleb reached for his two pistols while Amalthia quickly assembled her folded sniper rifle. Each of them also took a short sword then promptly strapped them to their hips.

"Oh my gods... just what kind of people are you??" The woman said just as Kaleb pointed his guns in her direction.

"The good kind. Duck!"

He unleashed two rounds that blew the heads off of two pirates who were just about to accost the newlyweds. Drenched in a spatter of blood and brain matter, the couple screamed in sheer terror as Amalthia calmly tried to wipe them down using a towel she had grabbed from the linen closet.

"Sorry for my husband ruining your dress. But don't worry, bleach should remove most of the stain."

The shocked couple did not budge.

Kaleb reached into his coat pocket, pulled out a couple of business cards then handed the cathartic husband and wife one each.

"We are the Outliers - Kaleb and Amalthia Grimwald-Steelblade - professional bounty hunters at your service. We specialize in undead, uncouth and unruly. Our prices are reasonable..."

"Kaleb. I really don't think they are interested in hearing our entire spiel at this time," Amalthia said as she glanced at one of the business cards. When she noticed something was printed in error, she snatched one of the cards from the hand of the still-as-a-statue man then showed it to her husband.

"Shit! They forgot to put a hyphen between our last names. After we just spent all that coin on these extra glossy..."

"Incoming!" Kaleb shouted as he unloaded more rounds into some oncoming brigands.

Amalthia's keen hearing allowed her to track the pirates' clanky weaponry from behind walls. As soon as several of them converged in an optimum spot, she loosed a high-powered round from her long rifle.

The sound of brief grunts followed by the thud of falling bodies echoed through the corridors.

"Load me up, love!" She said as Kaleb tossed her some extra magazines while she loped on all fours across the hall checking to see if the coast was clear.

"I promise I'll contact the print shop and have 'em print us up some new cards," Kaleb said while providing cover for his wife.

"You'd better!" Amalthia playfully snarled.

Kaleb stowed his revolvers then offered his hand to the cathartic couple. "Come with us if you want to not die."

"What kind of people carry stockpiles of weapons on their honeymoon?" The man asked in a panicked voice.

Amalthia backtracked upon hearing the comment then replied; "the kind that want to stay alive."

"You heard her. Hey honey... you should have let me bring Bob."

Kaleb's wife growled and shook her head. "Bob was over the size limit. So stop grousing over it and use what ya got."

He, then, pulled out his shortsword and grimaced. "This thing isn't big enough to skewer a skritt. Besides, I haven't even given it a name."

"Fine, call it Chuck."

"Chuck? Why that's a horrible name!" Kaleb shook his head in disagreement.

"It can't be much worse than Bob." Amalthia countered then stuck her tongue out at her husband.

"Oh Harold. This has turned out to be such an awful trip. This couple that happens to be just as weird as they are rude, just ruined our romantic getaway. And now that same weird, rude couple is in the middle of fighting a bunch of pirates who are hijacking our ship. ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME HAROLD??!"

Shaking in fear, her husband just hunkered down and said nothing.

"Warning, newly minted spouse about to lose it," Kaleb said as he deftly wielded his shortsword against some oncoming brigands by quickly felling them with swift strokes to their kneecaps.

"Make yourself useful, woman, and carry our luggage," Amalthia stated as she tossed the heavy suitcase to Harold's wife.

Deck by deck, the human-charr husband and wife team began clearing each hallway of scoundrels. Once they were finished, no less than twenty of the pirates lay dead. The remainder retreated from the ship using makeshift gliders.

In spite of the Zephyrites' philosophy of non-violence, the commander of the vessel thanked both Kaleb and Amalthia for their heroic deeds. For the remainder of their honeymoon, the pair was treated to free dinners and full use of the travel amenities.

On the final day of their trip, Kaleb and Amalthia were enjoying complimentary free massages as they sipped on a tall daiquiri that was shared between them.

"So you promise to get the hyphen added to between our names?" Amalthia asked as she took a big slurp from the frozen glass.

Kaleb took a long suck from the straw as well. "Promise. In fact, I'll shred every non-hyphenated name business card in our inventory."

"Good! I love you, you know," his wife said as she relaxed her muscles and purred in contentment.

"And I love you too. Hey. Look at the normal couple over there. I'll bet this is a trip they'll never forget," Kaleb said with a wide grin.

Amalthia reached over then took his hand and held it tightly. "That's the kind of effect we have on people. We are odd."

"We are bold," Kaleb said as he leaned over to kiss her.

The human and charr - who were now husband and wife - looked into each other's eyes and said in one chorus.

"We are Outliers!"

...the beginning.

(All chapters have been posted to AO3. Chapter 34 is posted here.)

#gw2 fanfic #guild wars fan fiction #tyrias-library #the outliers #kaleb and amalthia #charr and human

[croonerboy1965]

Shag- “I think I love you too”-BuddieFic

Buck unlocked the door to his apartment loft and turned back to Eddie with a look.

“You okay with this?” Buck Said “Uhhh... Yeah,” Eddie said Eddie followed Buck through the door and took in his surroundings.

“Nice place.” Said Eddie Buck turned to Eddie before he could ask how much the rental was on it...

“So. Howffhhh” Eddie mumbled his lips now smashed up against Buck’s desperate mouth. Buck practically swallowed Eddie whole. He gave Eddie’s Bottom lip a tug and Eddie grunted and pulled his head back.

“Whoa... whoa... Slow down there, cowboy. We have all night.”, Eddie grinned at Buck, tousling his hair.

“I was just—uh— sorry.”, Buck flushed red a little and looked down at Eddie’s buttons and imagined himself, biting them off of his shirt, one by one.

“Want a beer or some wine?” Buck managed to wiggle out of their embrace, pulling himself away from Eddie enough to turn toward the kitchen.

Eddie firmly pulled Buck into himself again, and they both walked together as one to the refrigerator. Buck could feel the firmness against his rear-end and this made him tighten his buttocks involuntarily with a little twinge of excitement. Eddie nibbled on his ear as he and pulled open the refrigerator door...Buck giggled. nothing but the light coming from inside to illuminate their faces.

Buck grabbed a couple of beers and popped the cap off of one and handed it to Eddie. Then he opened his own, and they both took a swig. Buck held the beer in his mouth and kissed Eddie full on the lips, letting the liquid run down between them.

Eddie pulled back—“Hey!”, he said.

Buck laughed, his face looking half shy, half with intent, “oh...Sorry... Well, I guess we will have to take that off then.” , the corner of his mouth curved up in a wry smile.

With that, Buck pushed Eddie up against the granite countertop and tore his shirt wide open, revealing the smooth, olive skin underneath. He kissed Eddie again, this time more intently, and more gently. The soft tangle of their kiss rolling back and forth, top to bottom, each one following the others moves, over and over, the kisses getting deeper as they went. Tongues lightly darting in and out, lips gently pulling at each other, pulling apart and coming together, more firm with each press.

Buck kissed Eddies neck softly, tracing his way along it’s length, lettings breath raise gooseflesh, as he made his way over Eddie’s Adam’s apple, moving deftly, grazing his collar and then flicking his tongue as he passed Eddie’s right nipple—before taking it into his mouth.

Eddie leaned his head back and fumbled his beer on to the countertop, letting out a low moan. “Oh my God... that feels amazing.”, he said.

Buck flicked and suckled for a minute, before kissing his way to the other now hard and waiting coin of prickly flesh on Eddie’s left pec.

Eddie tangled his fingers through Buck’s hair, pressing on the back of his head, driving buck in deeper. As his did so, buck sucked harder until Eddie could not take any more. He grabbed Buck in Both hands and Pulled him up into another kiss, before yanking at Buck’s shirt, tugging it over his head and tossing it to the floor. The Buck helped him wrestle out of his own shirt. They were so close now, they could feel the heat between them, radiating off their torsos. They wrapped their arms around one another, skin on skin and then went in for another lingering kiss.

Slowly, they parted and Buck fumbled with shaking hands as he went to undo Eddies belt and pants. He struggled a bit, but was careful to open them just enough so he could push them down, tugging at Eddies briefs, barely able to get them past the hardness of Eddies raging boner. At last they clattered to the floor, and buck wrapped his arms around Eddie’s bottom and hoisted him up onto the counter. Eddie let out a little gasp as the cold granite pressed against his undercarriage.

Eddie winced at the cold counter under him, and his sack tightened.

“Aw.. Let me warm that up for you.” Buck said. A sly smile curling at the corners of his mouth. Buck got down on his knees and took Eddie’s manhood into his supple mouth.

“Uhhhgh..” Eddie moaned in delight. His eyes rolled back and he caught himself on his forearms, leaning back into the wave of lust that now washed over him, as Buck’s velvet lips engulfed him. He could feel the tip of Buck’s

tongue trace around his foreskin as Buck pulled it gently back with one hand. Buck traced his tongue around the crown of Eddie’s cock and then opened wider to take in its length all the way down to the base, whetting the underside of Eddie’s shaft with drool as he went. Buck relaxed his throat and exhaled, pausing for a bit, letting the full size of Eddie’s prick swell to fill his eager maw. Eddie pushed Buck’s head down on it firmly and let out a manly animalistic noise.

Buck raised his head slowly and Eddie’s gently pressure followed. Up and down, up... and down. Buck felt his own hardness press against his shorts. After several strokes, Eddie said, “God damn you’re good.” Between heaving breaths. Buck came up for air long enough to reply, “I know.” With a smile and a mischievous wink. Eddie let out a chortle, but it contorted into a groan in his throat as Buck went back to work. Buck started in more frantically now. Eddie could not believe the sensations he was feeling. “What is he doing with his tongue?” Images flashed through Eddies mind. All the times when they were in the locker room, all the longing looks, the friendship, the closeness. He realized then that it was not just sexual tension. From minute one, he had really loved Buck. He pushed back the thoughts as the waves of pleasure crashed into his mind, growing more and more intense with each passing second. He felt himself getting close to coming, and said, almost too loudly, “Wait!”. Buck stopped and lifted his head and looked up at Eddie. His face was wan and almost dejected looking.

“Did I do something wrong?”, Buck said.

“Oh dear God no.” Eddie flashed an encouraging smile, that made Buck’s face brighten. “It’s your turn.” And with that, Eddie pulled buck up to him and pressed their lips together as he wiggled out of his pants and shoes. He feverishly pulled at Buck’s jeans, never breaking the furious kiss. Hungrily, they pulled at each other, mouths in a battle for supremacy, each one following the other in a lusty back and forth, driving each other mad with craving. Once their clothes were tossed aside, Eddie scooped Buck up in a fireman’s carry and took him up the stairs into the bedroom. He tossed Buck down on the bed and loomed over him. His eyes were ablaze with deep amber fire, a look that filled Buck with so much longing, he felt—no... it’s just lust. This is just a hookup, he told himself. Though for just a second there, he could’ve sworn Eddie was looking at him like he was about to say he loved him. He was sure of it. He himself had seen the same expression on a few women in his time. A look which said ‘I want you’ and ‘I love you’ at the same time.

“God you’re beautiful.”, Eddie said, his eyes locked with Buck’s. Time stood still as Eddie stared deeply into Buck’s crystal blue eyes, searching for an answer to a question he dared not to ask. “Do you love me?”, he thought to himself. “Is the what love between two men feels like?” He had no earthly idea. He almost said the words he had not had the courage to say back at the bar. He managed to stammer out “I-I—Lo-“, but Buck lifted his face to Eddie’s and kissed him hard, jamming his tongue into Eddie’s mouth before he had the chance.

This re-ignited their lust, as Eddie kissed his way down the length of Buck’s torso, working from side to side in a zig-zag pattern as he went. He paid special attention to the ridges in his abdomen, lighting the tip of his tongue along each indentation, until he reached Buck’s belly button and flicked at the indentation, and this drove Buck crazy.

“Oh my God”, he called out. And as Eddie continued, Buck’s hips angled up almost involuntary as Eddie mouthed his way up and along none side of Buck’s cut, then back down, nibbling his way across the crown of his closely shaved pubic crown, to the opposite hip and back again. He made sure to let out light exhales of warm breath as he dotted all around the perimeter of Buck’s crotch. The sensation was almost unbearable. Almost ticklish. And definitely a turn on.

As he neared the base of Buck’s now throbbing member, it over, undulating as it pulsed with growing desire. Eddie kissed and flicked his tongue all around it, occasionally coming so close, it literally jumped with expectation. Eddie lifted his eyes and froze at the sight of Buck’s stiff and throbbing man meat. Even in the dim light from the window, he could see it. Hot pink. Almost an angry red. And huge. At the tip of it’s bulbous head, he could see the beginnings of a pearl of glistening pre-cum.

Buck opened his eyes, not realizing he had squeezed them shut, and looked down in Eddie’s direction.

“Please.”, he pleaded. “Please don’t stop.” Eddie’s eyes glanced up at him and back to the glittering prize. All at one Eddie engulfed the head of bucks cock and sucked the dew drop waiting there. His lips made a satisfied shaking sound as he did so and and Buck yelped with pleasure in spite of himself. This spurred Eddie on and he opened his mouth wide, driving Buck’s cock deeper and deeper into him with each dive. Buck grabbed Eddie’s head with both hands and lifted his ass off the bed so he could shove his hard cock even further into Eddie’s hungry throat.

“Fuuuuck, take it!”, Buck said as Eddie forced out a puff of hair against Buck’s pelvis. Eddie pushed his head against Buck’s strong grip, but Buck only let him up long enough for him to take a desperate swig of air, before forcing him hack down. Eddie nearly gagged, but then relaxed and let the full reach of Buck’s monster practically pierce his skull once again. Eddie coughed and Buck released his grip, allowing Eddie’s head to pop up and take a big breath. Eddie sputtered a few more times and let the spittle escape his lips and curl down and around Buck’s rock hard cock.

“God dammit that thing is a monster.” Eddie croaked, wide-eyes watering from the sheer mass of the thing he’d just taken down his throat.

“You like that, don’t you, you little cum pig?”, Buck said.

He spoke with such authority, all Eddie could do was nod.

He did love it. My god. He would keep the memory of it for the rest of his life, tucked away in his spank bank. His

cock was just so damn beautiful. “Can I just—“, Buck nodded and grabbed himself at the base of his cock and pointed it at Eddie, before Eddie could finishes thought. Eddie took his lead and went back to work. He sucked and stroked Buck’s giant fuck stick, lubing it up until it was glossy with spit. Then he crawled back up to Buck so they were face to face, then maneuvered himself so he was straddling Buck. He reached behind his back and guided Buck’s boner down along the divide of his buttocks to his waiting pink pucker. He lowered himself down, until he could feel Buck’s manhood pressed against him. Buck pressed himself up against the tight opening almost automatically.

“Go slow... slow...”, Eddie instructed. He knew Buck was already pretty close. He could feel it when he was taking him in his mouth earlier. Could see it in the way Buck’s face, neck and shoulders blushed red as a sunburn. So close. But he wanted this to last.

Eddie lowered himself carefully, relaxing his sphincter muscles as he slid down onto Eddie’s pulsing shaft. They both let out a gasp as their bodies joined together as one, and their faces winced. Buck’s in pleasure and Eddie’s with a touch of pain, as every nerve in his body electrified with want.

“Ahhh—yeah!” Eddie’s voice whined in a higher pitch than he expected. This made Buck open his eyes and smile up at Eddie.

“There ya go.”, Buck encouraged Eddie, as he grabbed him with both hands around his waist, gently guiding him down until he was fully inside Eddie, filling him all the way until he could take no more.

Buck moved his hips, working Eddie slowly up and down on his shaft, watching his expression go wide on the downstrokes and soften as each one in succession increased in speed and sensation.

Eddie could not believe this was really happening. He had never felt so vulnerable, yet so intimate with another person, much less another man, much less Buck of all people. Soon he was taking Buck like a champ as the up and down motion caused his own dick to bob like a diving board, slapping up against his abdomen occasionally as it got caught up in the tide of their ecstasy.

“Don’t stop! Don’t you ever stop, you fucking stud! Oh my god! Ahhh ahhh ahh ahhh!”, screamed Eddie as Buck drove himself in and out of his body, like the hot piston of a freight train. Eddie now knew why his name was Buck. It was like riding a wild bucking bronco.

Buck plowed Eddie’s insides over and over, and Eddie was so turned on and so alive with excitement he could barely stand it. He was so into it now, everything was a blur of emotion and animal desire. His mind was filled with a hurricane of random thoughts. Some of the women he had, things he forgot to pick up at the store, and Buck, every inch of Buck.

“Oh my God, I’m gonna come so hard!” Buck said, snapping Eddie back to reality. With that, Eddie involuntarily clenched his ass and the grip took Buck over the edge. The come rocketed out of Buck’s dick like a geyser. He growled like a bear, the grunts matching the waves of his orgasm to its full.

Eddie took everything Buck had to give and still wanted more. He lifted himself carefully off of Buck’s still throbbing cock, and leaned forward for a kiss. Then he collapsed in a heap next to Buck.

“You’re still hard”, Buck said. “We’re gonna have to do something about that.”, Buck whispered in Eddie’s ear as he reached down and gave Eddie’s stiff member a tug.

Buck made a beeline straight to Eddie’s junk and gave him one of the most long, slow and luxurious tongue lashings Eddie’s cock ever had. The intensity brought Eddie to such a mind scrambling frenzy, he accidentally screamed, “Oh Fuck I love you so much!”

Buck swallowed hard and nearly choked on Eddie’s huge load, at those words. He gingerly lapped up every last drop, and then crawled back up next to Eddie, and whispered warm in his ear—“I think love you too.”

But by then, Eddie was fast asleep.Buck wrapped himself around Eddie’s warm, muscular frame, nuzzling his face into the crook of Eddie’s neck and drifted off as well.

After a couple of hours, Eddie startled awake as Buck’s alarm clock went off. He looked around bleary-eyed, unsure of his surroundings. He found the source of the annoying repetitive buzzing sound, and pulled it off the night stand and out of the wall socket on to the floor.

#buddie #9-1-1 fic #9-1-1 week

[mor3tti]

Boy Wonder & The Young Goddess -Part Four-

Dick Grayson (titans) x Reader

(Dick Grayson GIF not mine)

Uhhhhh, surprise? I’m back, I think.

I owe each and every single one of you an explanation for my absence. When I finished and posted the third chapter I thought I was going to be able to keep caught up with the oncoming chapters but the problem was that they weren’t written yet. I kept coming back to try and write the next chapter and with each try I fell out of the motivation to write it. After how many months and FINALLY finishing my exams I am now back and ready to go. Love you all, I missed Dick Grayson.

This will be a series! So stay tuned for more chapters to come!

The plot: When Y/N gets a sign from the gods to go after a troubled girl, she stumbles upon and reconnects with a dear friend from her past.

Warnings: the use of the word ‘fuck”

Taglist: @nightshade7117 @yetitty @affection-rabbit @drabby-abby @caitsymichelle13 @caswinchester2000 @peterunderoos96 @sataninsatin @chewie-redbird @bad-bitch-khaleesi @peqchynero @bookish-and-shy @kokofri14 @bluexangels @multifandoms916 @blue-and-yellow-jjk-pjm

Some usernames didn’t work so I’m sorry! You might have changed your username without me realising!

Masterlist for Boy Wonder & The Young Goddess

Even as an Amazon you still somehow got migraines, and yeah if you’re wanting to know they’re still a mega pain in the ass. The tea session with Gar had sparked some suppressed emotions which is probably a positive thing but damn did they mess with your head, literally. The best option was to swallow yourself in the mattress that was very much calling your name. Your knees were close to your chest as you tried to wait out the pain. Surprisingly in an apartment full of vigilantes there were no painkillers, then again Dick is more of the ‘brooding and ignoring the pain’ type of guy. 

Another bolt of pain shot through your temple as your fist grabbed the sheet which followed with the rest of your body clenching in pain. A quiet “fuck” left your lips as you smacked the bed trying to get the frustration out without blasting out the windows with an energy tantrum. As the storm moved from where Dick was in town it settled over you and surrounded the tower with a hollow shower of rain, thankfully no lightning and thunder. The calming rhythm of the droplets gave you something to focus in on instead of the pressure that was clouding your mind.

You stretched your hand out from under the pillow and held it above where you and Dick once laid this morning, slowly lowering it onto the still crumpled bedding. It was an odd feeling. The bed felt uneven without him even though your whole life had been balanced this entire time. You couldn't start wanting him now, especially after the mini lecture you had given him this morning about Kory and putting her first. You sharply retracted your hand and slid it back to the pillow before anyone noticed, even if the apartment was just about empty. 

As you were settling in bed Gar was settling into the corner of the couch watching the rain fall. He thought that he might as well take this moment for granted. There was no one after him, no one currently fighting their way into the apartment and especially no one to interrupt him. It was just a silent conversation between his open thoughts that still danced around your prior conversation and the rain’s simple song of serenity. Unknown to him, that serenity wouldn’t last long. 

-

Kory and Rachel were ahead of Dick as he finished paying for the small lunch they had. His hand was struggling to fit in the tight pocket as he was desperately trying to push the coins away somewhere. As he looked up from the change dilemma he noticed how far ahead the others were and jogged to catch up. The concrete was still covered in a thin film of water as it released the remaining smell of rain and the city noise around him cut into his ears. You would be surprised at how deafening the city can be but as his phone bleeped a passing car honked. His phone rattled around in his jacket pocket as the screen lit up with a stoic message from Donna.

Donna-Received at 12:48pm

I’m coming to the apartment. Don’t be alarmed if you hear a knock at the door.

The screen slowly dimmed and got ignored as the notification got sucked away by the soundtrack of the city streets.

Sure, Dick hated how loud the city was but after this he would loathe it. Soon the cars and busy people would be replaced by your screaming and tears.

-

The screen close to the door lit up with a message of ‘intruder’ which caught Gar’s attention. The tiles were cool against his feet when he turned to go wake you, motivated by his state of panic. As he reached for the doorknob he pulled himself away biting his lip as he tossed up whether he should wake you or not. The alert rang through the apartment again but was interrupted as the elevator doors slid open. As Gar’s eyes made contact his stomach dropped. This wasn’t good. And it wasn’t bad. His calming afternoon quickly turned into a nightmare. A pair of leather boots stood in front of him with a very particular rope attached to their hip. 

“With that look on your face I’m betting you didn’t know I was coming?” Her smile pressed into her dimples as she flicked her dark hair from her eyes. Gar got caught back to the situation in front of him and coughed out a chuckle trying not to look at your bedroom door in hopes of keeping your presence a secret. 

-

Rachel had bounced into the passenger seat as she gulped down the remainder of her second coffee of the day. She went to jam it into the cup holder but it was occupied by Dick’s phone. He was too focused on trying to see the oncoming traffic as the car pulled out so she grabbed it and played with it. She missed having a phone, having some form of property other than her clothes. She tapped her boots together as she threw the thought around of trading her boots for a walkman but it was interrupted with an ear piercing siren coming out of the phone’s speaker. 

“I SWEAR IT WASN’T ME!” Rachel screamed as she tried shutting the noise off. Dick’s head whipped around to see a red flashing notification come across his screen. It was a security camera image with the word ‘intruder’ pasted along it. There stood Donna looking up at the camera with a disgruntled expression across her face. He slapped the steering wheel and pushed the gas pedal down as Kory and Rachel sat confused and alarmed. 

“You know it’s just Donna right? Not some psycho killer maniac.” Kory pitched in as she leant forward to see just how angry Dick was but she didn’t see a face of anger. She saw a face that was caught up in the many flashes of childhood memories between the two of you, a face laced with fear. She lowered herself into the back seats and knew it involved you.

Really? As soon as she steps into the city Donna has to show up. Here we go again, around the twist. Two Amazons in the same apartment, wonder if it’ll even be standing by the time I get there. “Fuck!” This launched out of Dick’s mouth without his intention. Two pairs of eyes met his but he knew he had to focus on getting back to you before Donna did something to ruin it all, again.

-

Plan of attack: keep Donna in the lounge room and keep it quiet. If one of you knows you’re here then I’m stuck dealing with two Amazons. TWO!!! 

Gar wanted to squeal and rip his hair out but he knew he had to try and keep a calm facade for the fate of this building. He had explained that they didn’t have phones so there was no way of Dick letting him know she would be coming, she just shrugged and agreed on how having no phones was probably their best bet at not being found and captured. That’s one topic off the checklist. Donna had taken the same position he had earlier on the couch as he offered her a tea which she gratefully accepted. His breathing had become shallow as he was silently praying for Dick to get his ass home now. 

As he turned from facing the kettle back to the rest of the apartment he scanned the area for any remnants of you being there. It was a bit of a saviour that your armour melted back into you even though it was entirely weird and kinda gross. No belongings means no clues. He crossed his arms up and smiled to himself at what could be a successful plan of attack but as he stared out the windows his smile wavered. Donna wasn’t exactly paying attention to him but that damn calm facade had to stay up. 

Looking back at him was your sword in all its glory lying along the outside coffee table. He heard you out there last night with Dick, talking and silencing the giggles you shared. You would definitely kick yourself later for leaving it out there. The kettle was reaching its boiling point and so were his ideas.

Click. 

As the water settled from its boiling point so did his momentary worries. If she can’t see it then she won’t know. New plan of attack. Distract. Gar rushed and made her tea as he smoothly asked if she would want to sit at the kitchen island bench, his excuse? It was right under the heater. Her face twisted and she hummed but came over to him anyways. Lucky for Gar his suspicious attitude was overrun by what she thought was a boyish charm. 

The elevator doors couldn’t open fast enough as the trio stumbled into the apartment with all the groceries immediately hitting the ground. The clambering footsteps alarmed them both as they were met with three other huffing faces. There was no fire. No damage and most importantly no you.

“Okay, what is going on around here? First the apartment doesn’t let me in and then you guys act as if you’ve seen a god damn ghost!” Donna’s voice was raising higher as the seconds passed by. Gar stared past Donna’s shoulder right into Dick’s eyes. I know. Dick’s eyes twitched as he read what Gar’s face was saying, but the reality was that he didn’t actually know the truth. 

-

You shifted beneath the covers as your senses came to, immediately hearing a full apartment. Hey, more food in the house makes me happy too. As you got up off the mattress you listened in and it wasn’t exactly joyful talk, you could feel the anxiety in the household. 

Danger. 

Dick.

You flew across the room and swung the door open, nearly ripping off the hinges. Your fists were glowing ready to fight but you were met with something much worse than a fight. You heard Dick sharply inhale a breath as Kory got in front of Rachel. She didn’t know your history but she knew two Amazons in the same apartment meant trouble.

“What the he-“ She turned from facing the elevator and her frame shuddered. Donna’s sentence got caught in her throat as she stared at you. Her chest was crumbling and you could feel it. She tried swallowing her breath but her dry throat wouldn’t allow it. Instead it came out as a single sob. 

Your stance hardened as her gaze turned cold, glazed over. You knew if you fought her that you would win either way. Each muscle slowly relaxed as you returned to a standing position. This isn’t a time to fight. 

“Donna just listen don’t start jumping to any of the ideas going through your head.” Dick was stepping towards her trying to settle anything, something to stop this. There was an eerie silence filled only with the sound of breathing. Her eyes didn’t stray from yours.

Dick looked as if he was trying to approach a wild animal with his hands up and a calm but shaking voice. His boots squeaked against the tiles and it all broke as if a pin had dropped. 

A gold stream of light ripped through the apartment. “Y/N!” There was immediate screaming as everything broke loose. It was as if the sun had entered the room, light was streaming everywhere as they had to shade their eyes. Dick shut his eyes, trying to get through to you with his thoughts knowing you’d be able to hear them, pleading for you to stop. He had the wrong impression. 

Inside the ball of light wasn’t a battle. Every strike Donna threw you blocked. This isn’t a time to fight. You would let her beat you to a pulp, pummel you into the ground but you wouldn’t lay a hand on her. Another blow came but it burnt. You back jolted as her heel came into contact with your chest. The fibres from the rope dug themselves into your neck as your knees dug into the floor. The light faded but the rope continued to glow. 

Rachel gasped and clung onto Kory as the air was withering it’s way out of your lungs. She had you trapped with the rope around your neck and everyone sat there watching you choke. Now the tables have turned and you look like the intruder.

This isn’t a time to fight. Your hands came up to tug the rope and pull her closer to you. Her boots skidded against the floor and as you looked up to her eyes, they were no longer cold. Instead they reflected you in the pool of tears. Another sob worked its way from her chest and her body struggled to hold it together. She was shaking her head not being able to process who was in front of her. Dick could feel her betrayal and confusion from the other side of the room.

As you tugged the rope again she came that one step closer. A hushed sentence came from her trembling lips. 

“You’re alive?”

As her breath left her body you left the building in a spark of light and her rope puddled on the floor. She couldn’t take her eyes off where you once were as everyone else kept still in the remaining silence.

It was as if she’d seen a ghost.

#dick grayson #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson imagines #dick grayson x reader #gar logan #kory anders #rachel roth #titans #titans imagine #beastboy

[thearvariblues]

The Bard and The Wolf - Chapter Four

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

The fourth chapter, in which Jaskier deals with his terrible and well-deserved hangover, with a bit of help from someone he definitely didn’t expect.

You can also find the fic on AO3. :)

The masterpost for this fic can be found HERE.

4 – There’s a Monster In My Pants

Geralt must have hung down the phone before Jaskier finished throwing up, because when the poor hungover bard crawled back to the bedroom, Geralt wasn’t on the line anymore.

Jaskier knew he probably should call him back, but he was too exhausted to deal with whatever Geralt wanted to say to him now. Probably that he was out of the band, for good, with no chance of ever returning.

Jaskier took his phone with him, just in case, and very slowly made his way to the living room, where he stretched on the sofa and covered himself with a blanket. He refused to stay in bed, but he also refused to function.

He was feeling like hell. Partially it was the hangover. His stomach still felt queasy, his head was spinning and the dwarf in his skull abandoned his hammer and grabbed a power drill instead. It was a purgatory, and Jaskier was pretty sure he absolutely deserved it.

Oh, dear God. Trust him to blow his chance to have something good in his life. No, not good. Something great.

“Stupid, stupid Jaskier,” he muttered, closed his eyes firmly and decided to spend the day wallowing in self-pity.

He must have fallen asleep soon after making this decision, because all of a sudden, somebody was banging on his door, and quite loudly at that.

“Oh, fuck off,” he muttered and tried to hide under his blanket, but the horrible sound just wouldn’t stop. Jaskier struggled into a sitting position and groaned. “Who the fuck is that?!”

The banging stopped, but what came after was even more horrible.

“Who the fuck do you think, Jaskier?” said a deep, husky voice he recognized after the first syllable.

Jaskier swallowed.

“This is not Jaskier!” he called in a voice much higher than his own. “This is his flatmate… Alfred! Darling. Jaskier went to visit his poor sick grandmother who lives in Siberia!”

“Nice try,” Geralt chuckled. “But you’ve told me you lived alone. Open the fucking door, Jask.”

“No way,” Jaskier replied. “I’m too young and pretty to die!”

“I’m not here to kill you. But I will the next time I see you if you don’t open the door right fucking now.”

“Ugh, fine,” Jaskier groaned and stood up, very slowly and carefully, huddled in his blanket. He made his way to the door and opened it. The first thing he saw were two golden eyes and an amused smirk. “What?”

Geralt raised his right hand, which was holding two paper bags.

“Belgian fries, tartar sauce, chocolate cake,” he announced. “Also, there’s a Monster in my pants. And I mean the energy drink, not what you’re probably thinking right now. All tried and tested hangover remedies.”

“Jesus Christ, I love you,” Jaskier moaned and stepped away from the door.

It was entirely possible that Geralt was lying about not being here to kill him, but he brought fries, meaning he’s bought his way into the flat.

“Not Jesus Christ, last time I checked,” Geralt chuckled. “And your affection is way too easily won, Bard.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I’m a whore. Please come in, excuse the mess, gimme the fries, the cake and the Monster from your pants.”

“We are still talking about the drink, right?” Geralt asked, shutting the door behind him.

Jaskier let his body fall onto the couch.

“My dearest wolf, I wouldn’t be able to get it up even if I wanted.”

Geralt smiled and handed him the bags and a can of energy drink he took out of his back pocket.

“Good. That’s what you deserve for being so damn stupid.”

“Yeah, I know. I definitely should have stopped drinking after the fucking video,” Jaskier muttered, digging in the bag that was a little bigger than the other. “But I felt like shit, and I wanted to forget, and… Oh, you mean I deserve it for the video. Right.”

Geralt sat down in an armchair and watched Jaskier hungrily stuff a few fries into his mouth.

“Don’t you?” he asked as Jaskier popped open the energy drink.

“Absolutely. Is that why you’re here, Geralt? To act as my voice of conscience? You could have saved yourself the trouble, my conscience’s been nagging at me ever since I woke up.”

“I came here to make sure you were okay, you moron,” Geralt grunted. “I would gladly let you die, but as Ciri pointed out, if you did, we would have to find a new singer, and I don’t think I’m ready for auditions.”

“Oh, how loved and appreciated I feel right now.”

“Hmm...”

Jaskier sighed and closed his eyes.

“Okay, okay,” he muttered. “Look, I’m sorry, okay. I’m sorry for the video, it was a stupid idea and Ciri definitely should have stopped me. And I’m sorry… I’m fucking sorry for outing you.”

“You didn’t know I wasn’t out.”

“Precisely. I didn’t know, I should have kept my big, stupid mouth shut. Fuck. I know how it feels, I’ve been outed by a friend before, and now I do it to somebody else?”

“Jaskier...”

“I mean, the friend outed me to my parents and he did it on purpose, but it doesn’t matter if it’s on purpose, does it?”

“Jaskier.”

“The result is the same, somebody who didn’t want to be out is out now, and they have to deal with the consequences–”

“Jask.”

Jaskier blinked.

“What?”

“It’s fine. As Renfri would gladly tell you, I’ve been talking about doing this for months, I just never gathered the courage to say Look, fans, I know you all think I am this big bad manly wolf, every woman’s wet dream, but I’m kind of also into guys, please don’t hate me. It’s almost a relief that someone did it for me.”

“You don’t have to do this,” Jaskier muttered.

“Do what?”

“Try to… convince me that my mistake was actually a good thing.” He took a sip from the drink. “How the hell did you even know the normal one was my favorite, and not one of those disgusting sugar-free fancy ones?”

“I didn’t,” Geralt shrugged. “I just took my favorite.”

“Oh. Thanks. I mean it. You’re a dear heart, Geralt.”

“I know.”

Jaskier uttered a tiny laugh.

“And so humble… What do your fans think about your bisexuality, by the way?”

“No idea. Haven’t checked the comments yet.”

“You haven’t?”

“Have you checked them yet? After all, you outed yourself, too.”

“Yes. As bisexual, but everyone already thought I was gay, so it’s no big deal.”

“Hmm...”

“Oh, stop it with the grunts. By the way, how was I supposed to check anything? I was barely conscious. Well, not even barely, most of the time. I’m only coming back to life thanks to this heavenly goodness you’ve brought me. Those fries were amazing. And now for the cake… Oh, dear lord, I’m starting to think I did die, and I ended up in heaven!”

“Well, it’s obvious you really feel better,” Geralt smirked.

“Physically, yes. Though it would help me tremendously if you checked the comments, so I can stop feeling like shit for… you know.”

“Why don’t you check them yourself?”

“Because, my dear Geralt… Oh, yes, this is fabulous,” he moaned as he put a plastic fork full of cake into his mouth. “My dear, dear wolf, I’d hate to have to throw up the feast you brought me.”

“Jask...”

“Please?”

“Ugh, fine,” Geralt muttered, taking his phone out of his pocket. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Someone’ mentioned it before. Several people. Many, many, many people.”

“I’m only doing this for you. Not because I want to know.”

“Of course.”

“I don’t.”

“Of course.”

“I really… Oh, fuck.”

“Good fuck or bad fuck?”

Geralt took a deep breath, scrolling through the comments on his phone’s screen.

“Well, the good news is, not so many people noticed the bit about my sexuality. Most of these comments are about you.”

“Fuck,” Jaskier sighed. “Okay. Gimme. I’m ready for them to tear me apart.”

“I saw that yesterday,” Geralt smirked. “As you wish. So… Oh, yes, that’s a good one. Oh, boy. This bard looks like a pure cinnamon roll, acts like a pure cinnamon roll, but in reality he’s just a feral bitch who’s out for blood. I mean, I’m not sure what it even means, but it sounds good, right?”

“It is good. Please, please, don’t let it be the only one.”

“Dear God, this guy’s chaotic energy is off the charts. I wasn’t sure about the whole thing, but I can’t help it, I love him already.”

“Oh, yes, baby, yes!” Jaskier groaned.

“I’m definitely getting old, I didn’t understand a word of it,” Geralt muttered. “Oh, this one I understand. Am I the only one who’s been humming Toss a Coin To Your Witcher for the past ten minutes? Well, since the comment has more than a hundred likes, he probably isn’t the only one.”

“It’s a catchy song,” Jaskier said.

“Yeah, though that bit about a humble bard definitely wasn’t inspired by you,” Geralt chuckled. “Oh, God… I am a heterosexual guy, but seeing those blue eyes, I understand why Geralt would let him suck his cock. And the reaction to that is… Man, I’m a lesbian, and I would gladly let him suck my cock. And then… Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Jaskier had closed his eyes, but now he opened them and focused on Geralt.

“What?”

“And Geralt’s not even heterosexual. He probably stood no chance.”

“And here we go,” Jaskier said and pushed the cake aside. “But this is good. It’s great, Geralt. they’re taking it as a fact, that’s the best–”

“Guys. Guys, are we really ignoring the fact this adorable bard said that Geralt, our mighty White Wolf, was bi? I mean, we knew it already… How the fuck did they know?!”

“Hate to break it to you, dear heart, but I knew it, too, even before Lambert told me,” Jaskier shrugged. “You just have this… bisexual energy.”

“Bisexual energy,” Geralt repeated.

“Kinda, yeah.”

“The important question – when he’s with a guy, is Geralt a top, or a bottom?”

“Oh, I know the answer to that, too!”

“I doubt that,” Geralt muttered. “Don’t know about Geralt, but this Jaskier guy is definitely a power bottom.”

“Wrong. Absolutely, completely wrong,” Jaskier commented.

Geralt shook his head.

“I can’t believe… Just yesterday, they were calling you a twink and a fairy and...”

“Cocksucker,” Jaskier prompted.

“And now they… speculate about my sexual preferences? And they believe you sucked my cock to get in the band?!”

“Oh, no, they don’t. Fret not, dear heart, they’re just… playing along. It’s a joke.”

“Am I the only one here who just loves how absolutely smitten this guy is with the rest of the band, Lambert included? So fucking adorable!”

“Oh, I’m gonna start blushing.”

“So, are we giving this puppy a chance? All those in favor, say Aye!”

“How many Ayes?” Jaskier asked, biting his lower lip.

“Way, way too many,” Geralt smiled. “It seems you got lucky, you feral bitch. Congrats. You’re a new fan favorite.”

“Oh, thank fuck,” Jaskier grinned. “I’m gonna make you famous yet, Witcher!”

“I doubt that. You haven’t made Dandelions famous, did you?”

“It’s hard to make a band famous when no matter what you suggest, they tell you Nah, Julian, that’s stupid, I’m not doing that.”

“Don’t worry. We’d never call you Julian, Jask.”

“Very reassuring,” Jaskier chuckled. “Why do you call me Jask, anyway?”

“Shorter than Jaskier. But if you want me to stop…”

“No, that’s not… I don’t mind. I like it. Just don’t call me Julian. I hate being called Julian. Only my parents call me Julian, and only when I do something they don’t approve of. Which is like… all the time. I haven’t seen them in years, but I’m sure that when I see them again, they’re gonna be like… Oh. Julian. You look… healthy. Which basically means I got fat, by the way.”

“Fat? Where?” Geralt blinked.

“Oh, darling. We’re talking about my mother, so… everywhere.”

“Bullshit,” Geralt grunted. “You’re not fat.”

“I do tend to get a little chubby if I let myself go too much.”

“Bullshit,” Geralt repeated.

Jaskier smiled and got back to his cake.

“I didn’t say I minded,” he said. “But thanks, anyway.”

“You’re… welcome?”

“Would you like a bite?” Jaskier asked. “I’m not giving you my plastic fork, but there’s a normal one in the kitchen. Maybe even a clean one, if you’re lucky.”

“Well, I’m not gonna say no,” Geralt laughed and got to his feet.

“And in the meantime, you could tell me what you think about Toss a Coin To Your Witcher.”

“Fuck,” Geralt muttered. “I knew this was coming…”

*

They were just in the middle of discussing their favorite metal bands (well, Geralt’s favorite, and Jaskier’s I really liked them ten years ago) when Geralt’s phone rang. He answered it with a little apologetic smile.

“Yes, what is it, Ciri? … No, I’m pretty sure I haven’t been gone for two hours already. … Right. I have. … No, I’m not trying to find a place to bury his body. … No, we’re not in a hospital. … No, Jaskier is fine, we’re just… talking. And I kind of lost track of the time. … Yes, I know I have a client in an hour. … Yes. … Yes, Ciri. … Yeah. See you at home. Love you too.”

He ended the call and sighed.

“Gotta go?” Jaskier asked. He was looking way better than he had upon Geralt’s arrival. His face wasn’t deathly pale, for a start, and his eyes were much brighter and clearer. He still looked tired, though.

“Yes. Because I’m an idiot who takes clients on Saturdays,” Geralt muttered and got to his feet. “Will you be all right here?”

“Absolutely, thanks to you,” Jaskier smiled. “You saved my life, Wolf.”

“You’re welcome, Bard,” Geralt nodded. “Will you make it to the rehearsal tonight, or should I call it off?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be there.”

“Good. See you there, then. Take care, Jask.”

“See you, Geralt.”

Jaskier waited until he heard the door click behind Geralt before he let out a long, deep breath. He fought the wide smile that threatened to make its way on his face.

Fuck, he was enjoying Geralt’s company way too much. That wasn’t good. That wasn’t good at all...

Continue with Chapter Five

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

[queensdivas]

Hidden Blade Chapter 3

Okay. This is one long ass chapter so be prepared. It’s about 5k if that shows you how much fun I had with this. So. Have a blanket, cheez-its, some water, a shot of absinthe and ready to have some good ass writing! Jk my writing sucks but some of y’all like it for some reason? 

Also! I’m going to be writing a Eugene Sledge fic if y’all haven’t heard yet. Please message me directly if you would like to be tagged it in. It’s gonna be good and I can feel it in my soul that this one is gonna hit home. (If you don’t believe in my historical fiction writing. Read 39’ and The Great Mazzello). 

ALSO! Never drink absinthe straight up! It’s way too strong for the human body. Here’s an article. www.absinthes.com/en/themag/the-absinthe-ritual/how-to-drink-absinthe-4760

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

Dear God he looks like he snorted about 5 grams of cocaine and thought it would be a good idea to turn into Susan! Does he have a tennis ball in his crotch? Dear God what the flying fuck is going on? At Least two looks somewhat natural in her role while three just looks, he looks like a California surfer douche who thought the new trend of the year was tennis! Okay I’m done for now. 

So. Now for the plan of action. One is heading to the track to listen in on the conversation with the Generals and the dealer. Once they get done with the trade, four and I followed him to wherever he’s keeping the gas, kill the supplier, destroy the supplies, and then come back to the hotel for a long time in the jacuzzi! 

We sat in the parking lot of the race track with the engine off waiting for one to give us the cue. We needed to fit in today, so one bought a Hennessey Venom GT, while Four and I looked like something you would see on the cover of Afar Magazine. Yet we sit here in our usual clothes of sports pants, thin shirts, tennis shoes, and a crap ton of water and Powerade in the back. Ready to go kill an arms dealer! 

I read over the binder again as these instructions we’re becoming a little more easier. Let me give you the spark note version. So you pop the hood off the chamber of where the gas is stored. They put the gas into a very fragile glass tube so if we break the glass we’re kind of fucked. But anyhow. You have to disarm the tube it’s around so that it will dispense the gas.

Remember the really cool scene in Jurassic Park where that dude was putting the Dino DNA or whatever into the bottle of shaving cream? Basically that except we have multiple bottles of shaving cream to move, a very small window before more people show up to kill us, no park to keep the power running, and no threat of dinosaurs. Just people with really big guns! 

So after moving the gas from the compound to the desert, which is where five and seven come into play. We found an abandoned bomb shelter from where the US Government was testing in the 50s all the way up until the 90s. One obviously bought it so we toss it down there and destroy it. 

That’s the plan. Disarm the gas, take it from the compound, throw it in a bunker and keep Turgistan away from their gas attacks. Sounds pretty easy doesn’t it? But if Florence turned into the shit show that I read on Google then we’re totally fucked! 

“You ever wonder why rich ass holes have to have loud race cars?” I asked as I closed the binder. 

“I mean. When you truly think about it, a lot of old rich white dudes have tiny penises. And what do tiny penis people do?” He’s got a good point. 

“They cause world wars and bomb their own country.” One butted into our conversation as we saw the dealer begin walking out of the track. 

“You guys got a lock on him?” One asked as Four turned on the car. 

“Yup. He just got into his SUV. Meet ya in the desert, over and out.” I pressed the button for the convertible hood to move back on top as Four revved the engine a little bit. He licked his lips as he was so damn eager to floor the accelerator. We waited for the SUV to almost get out of sight. 

“Just don’t be stupid because I get kind of CAR SICK!” He floored it leaving a trail of smoke behind us and the smell of burned rubber. OH god I get car sick and this is a very smooth ride! 

He had his five minutes of glory till we caught up to the SUV but being a few cars behind him. Trying not to look suspicious obviously which is easier than it sounds because we were behind two other very big sport cars. My stomach on the other hand is not have it’s five minutes of gloRY! Four made a sharp turn off the strip as I felt my stomach turn into more knots. Oh dear god. You’re on a smooth ride in a plane, with slight turbulence because a bumpy ride is a fun ride! A bumpy ride is a fun ride! 

“Why don’t we turn on the radio.” I nervous laughed as I turned on the radio to get a blast of Elvis Presley through the speakers! TOO MUCH VIVA LAS VEGAS! Quickly changing the station to first classical music, then Mexican rap, and then finally a regular radio station. Which lead to Four turning it off because absolutely nothing good was playing. 

“Well shit. Sadly nothing good is on. Do you do any pregame music for this or just go head on in?” I asked him as we began leaving the Vegas strip and out into the desert. One couldn’t find a house layout of this dudes place which is kind of shocking because I thought a billionaire could get anything! Four slowed down as the last car that was blocking us disappeared. 

“Usually I’d rather just go head on in.” He was taping on the steering wheel with his leg really shaking hardcore. Is he getting nervous? Didn’t think anyone in this squad gets nervous since about all of us are hardcore killers! Well he is a thief so that kind of makes sense because I imagine killing people isn’t something he usually did in his career. 

“Hey. I imagine this isn’t the first time you’ve broken into a dangerous compound, wanna know what I do before I get nervous?” He turned his head to me as I reached into my bag to pull out a bottle of Absinthe Eichelberger and two shot glasses. 

“Takes the nerves away. Once we make it to the compound we’ll have a shot so that the Green Fairy will give us great fortune.” The SUV turned into what looked like a large fortress as we continued on, so we didn’t look suspicious towards them. We kept going until we were about a mile away as I pulled out my binoculars to watch them enter in the code to open the gate. Damn it! Can’t get a good look from this far. Get to it in a minute after a shot. 

I poured us a shot then added some water to make sure we get the full affect. I handed him the glass as we clink our glasses together then down the hatch! Ah that’ll do it! We climbed out of the car to open the truck for our bags. He threw on his satchel as I for my book bag. I looked through my binoculars again to start the counting of the security cameras. 

One..three..seven..nine..twelve and it looks like the only side the cameras that is somewhat accessible is the west side of the compound. There’s some type of tree that easily blocks one of the cameras. So. There’s about two ways we can do this and be successful. We can either A, we climb on the south side of the fence and find the gas. Or B, we try to get through with our car and possibly get shot since we don’t look familiar whatsoever. I’m going to with Plan A. 

“So the westside has the least amount of the cameras and the best point of entry.” I told Four as he popped open the back of the trunk and threw his book bag on as I reached for my bag. Throwing it on my shoulders as he closed the door and locking it. 

“You ready?” I asked as we began doing some quick stretching and loosen up the tension. 

“Always.” We looked over at each other for a split moment as he looked a little scared. Me? Totally not shitting my pants over the fact I’m robbing a toxic compound. 

We darted towards the west side as he followed the direction of the security camera. It began turning towards the opposite direction towards one of the other cameras. We made it to the wall as it turned the other direction. Just in time. Phew. I looked straight up as I got into my bag for the chalk powder, pouring a little on my hands then passing it to over to Four. 

“So how do you scale walls then?” He asked as I looked straight up the wall. This place is definitely old so the walls have the knocks and crannies for an experienced climber to do their thing. 

“Quickly yet carefully. You first.” Telling him as he didn’t move an inch up the wall.

“No you.” I don’t wanna go first! I’m new to the team! Newbies go last! 

“No you!” We stood in front of each other till he reached into his pocket and pulled out a penny. 

“Heads you go first. Tails I go.” He flipped the coin, caught it, then showed it before us. Tails! 

“Yes! Have fun. Don’t die.” I chuckled at him. He groaned as he began climbing up the wall as I began planning my scale up the wall. He reached the top, looking over the wall to then motioned for me to follow up. I began climbing as he hopped over the wall to land in bushes. 

“OW! Pointy!” As I looked down to see him crawling out of the pointy bush. I looked to make sure no guards were looking over in our direction. I climbed then fell straight into the bush for a not so soft landing. 

“Gaaahh.” I whispered as I quickly crawled out then behind the massive palm tree. A few people came out of the SUV then more out of the house. A fat man came walking out with his hands opened wide to the dealer himself. 

“You made the deal!” One of the men cheered as the dealer clapped his hands.

“Tell ya what. We finish some of the work then we head back to Vegas for a trip.” They laughed amongst themselves as we began moving towards the back of the compound. If this is where they make it, then I’m assuming they’re storing it in the basement of the compound because there’s no way this dude lives here, it’s not nice enough and it’s right outside of Vegas.

“Okay. So the gas is either in the basement of this building or it’s even back more of the compound.” He pointed to the side where it kept going way more. 

“Alright. You check this house, I’ll head further back to see what we got.” We nodded till we noticed more people were coming out of the house, music started playing, and even a mariachi band came out? Two guards came walking by where we were then stopping a few feet away from us. 

“So they got all the gas down in the cellar of the shed?” What a coincidence! Glad to know they got all the gas down in the cellar of the shed. Seems kind of rushing don’t you think? But ya know whatever makes my job easier than it needs to be. 

We made our way over to the shed as a pack of women were standing around the balcony, talking, looking half naked, and doing cocaine off each other? Hollywood really needs to nail how these bitches do cocaine. Four stopped for a second as one of them tossed over the top of her shirt as her titties appeared before him. 

“Four stop looking at the titties!” I ordered as I continued sneaking to the shed. I double checked to see if Four was following me, he’s still looking at all the now naked ladies on the balcony.

“Just a few more seconds.” I rolled my eyes as I grabbed his ear to start pulling him towards the shed. 

“We’re dead and have a free night in Vegas. Just go on pornhub and watch your titties when we get back to the hotel!” I told him as we made it to the shed. He took one last look then got back into the game. 

Four opened the window slowly as he climbed in as I quickly followed suit. I then closed the window as quietly as I could as Four busted open the cellar where the gas was being held. A foul stench of chemicals came out of the cellar. He reached into the bag to pull out two gas masks for us just incase something goes wrong. 

“Got our shaving cream?” I asked him as he pulled out one of the bottles as I shined a flashlight into the basement. Nodding as we placed the mask over our faces then down into the dark hole of death. 

The only light was my flashlight so no one would notice the lights or us moving around in the cellar. There were tables around the room with the materials they’ve been remaking the gases with. So they’re not in the bombs which is nice and makes us skip a whole bunch of steps. The only light besides my flashlight were tiny little windows that let only a little sunlight entering the room to show us the outline of the shelves. They haven’t started the production of too much gas so we hopefully have enough room for everything. 

“One we made it in the cellar where the gas is. Starting our extraction.” I told one as I slid off my bag to start pulling out the bottles of shaving cream. I screwed open the bottle as we began shoving the chemicals into the bottles as quickly as we could. 

A weird chirping sound began ringing throughout the cellar as four was too focused on trying not to drop any of the chemicals. It sounded like a mixture of a dying bird and a baby. It’s cries sound very familiar of one of a tiger. I grabbed my flashlight and began following the sound of the chirps. I was lead to the corner of the room where this little ball of orange, black, and white was curled up in the corner of the room. It lifted it’s head up and the poor thing look so malnourished oh my god! 

I took off my jacket as the cub tried getting up, but it’s legs we’re so skinning that it could barely hold its own weight. Should I be taking you home? Yes. I wrapped it up in my jacket as the door above us busted open and what sounded like elephants running upstairs. 

“Eight what are you doing?” Four asked as the cellar door opened as we both scurried around to hide behind the tables. Okay this is a horrible idea but the only way I’m going to get myself out of here is putting the cub in my bag. Dear God please don’t hate me little one, but you’re gonna have an endless amount of meat when this is over. 

The guards came running down the stairs as I looked to see my book bag was only a few inches away from me after finding a table to hide behind. I put the cub on the ground as it stayed in the hoodie so I could try to reach for the hoodie. 

“Hey! Who's been touching the goods?” One of the guards barked as they turned off the safety of their guns to start scoping out the cellar. I slowly rose from behind the table to see more of them coming down the stairs. Shit shit shit! Getting down as I turned the corner to just snatch my bag. I shoved the hoodie into the bag, leaving it opened at the top as the cub stuck it’s head out. I then put the bag on my shoulders as I began crawling through the cellar. 

Ya know. If you take a bottle of ethanol and basically treat it like a Molotov cocktail, you can burn down a building much nicer than any regular whiskey and fire. Four was ready to kill one of the guys as I motioned him to stop, then pointing at the bottle of methanol. He nodded as he pointed to the cellar stairs as a cue for us to go up, Molotov those fuckers and kill a little birds with one stone! 

On three I grab the bottle. One..two..THREE! I snatched the bottle almost knocking over a bunch of dishes. Shit shit shit! Four made his way up the cellar stairs as I crawled as quietly as I could to the stairs as the guards were beginning to come in my direction. Just stay calm..no need to panic! Just run up the cellar stairs and dump the ethanol! RIP IT OFF LIKE A BAND AID! 

A very loud crash happened as one of the guards accidentally fell over one of the shaving cream bottles which gave me the cue to run up the stairs. I climbed up the stairs then popped open the bottle of ethanol to start dumping down the stairs. Once it was soaked into the wooden stairs, I kicked it down the stairs as Four pulled out his lighter then launching it downstairs. He then slammed the cellar door shut as we made a break towards the closest wall. 

“Well not exactly according to plan.” He threw off his gas mask as we hid behind bushes. I think at this point we’re just waiting for the place to go BOOM! And I’d really like to see it go absolute boom because that means we just saved so many lives! The tiger chirped as four looked over to the back of my bag. I didn’t move at all as it’s head popped out of the bag which made Four almost scream. 

“Why do you have a tiger in your bag!?” He whispered yelled as I turned to him. 

“Why don’t you have a tiger in your bag hm?” I asked him as he rolled his eyes then just stared me down. 

“We can’t bring a tiger back into the airfield! One will get rid of it!”

“I plan on raising it! I’ve worked with big tigers before!”

“Oh really!?” 

“Yes real..” The shed exploded as we ducked down covering our heads as the explosion was beginning to ring through our ears. FUCK THAT WAS LOUD OH MY GOD! 

The heat felt like it was going to melt our skin off our body and that's when we decided to make a break for it up the wall. I was the first climbing up as quickly as we could as the guards began yelling behind us! Crap crap crap! 

“FOUR HURRY YOUR BUTT UP!” He was right behind me as they began shooting at the wall. I made it to the top then just jumped for it hoping that I don’t break my legs! I landed on the ground. Four landed right behind me as we made a mad dash towards the car. 

“ONE PLANS CHANGED! WE BLEW UP THE SHED!” I yelled as he started the car as the place began catching on fire. 

“What do you mean you blew up the shed? What the hell is going on?” I threw the bag into the foot area of the car as Four ran to the otherside of the car as he didn’t even close the door, just slammed on the accelerator then shifting into the fastest gear. 

“I’m not much of a driver as six was, but hopefully we can get far enough away from this place.” 

“Who was six.” He got quiet as he shifted gears as we slow down a little bit as we got close to Vegas. 

“Six was a good friend before he got killed in Florence.” Before he could finish his story, one yelled straight into our headsets wondering what the heck has happened. 

“Four! Eight! Are you two done having fun?” He yelled as I moved the ear bud out of my ear so I wouldn't go deaf! 

“Well we destroyed the gas by burning the whole compound down. So mission accomplished on our end! Meet you back at the airbase in the morning. Four and eight over and out.” I yanked off the radio as I dove into the bag to pull out the cub. 

“Four. How much do you think a few pounds of ribs are in Vegas?” I asked him as the cub was dead asleep in my hands. 

“Ten pound ribs?” He asked as we turned towards Vegas. 

“Make it fifteen. With a side of mashed potatoes.” Great minds think alike! The Tiger cub woke up a little as she began yawning. 

“I think I’ll call you Anya.” Her beautiful yellow eyes opened wide as she tried licking my hand a little. 

“That’s adorable oh my god.” Four commented as we were pulling up into the hotel. Damn right one got us a room at the Bellagio. I also think two and three are somewhere in here with us but on different ends obviously. He reached into the back for one of the bottles of water, pouring it into the empty shot glass from the absinthe. I held it up to Anya as she began slurping up the water from the glass. 

“Tomorrow I’ll find some sort of wildlife sanctuary. As much as I would love to take care of her and turned her into a fighting machine, I’ve seen what control does to animals for most of my life. We’re just going to get ya to a bigger place with better help. Sound fun Anya?” She was so focused on the water she probably didn’t even hear me. 

I know I focus on dealing with the horrid people of the world, sexual predators, corrupted Government leaders, and drug lords. But from this moment on. My ass will be going after poachers who hunt animals for money. Just now have to add them to the list which will make it ten times larger. Worth it so that one day Anya and her cubs can run around Russia in their natural habitat. 

We made it to the bedroom as I put Anya down on the bed as she began sniffing around the room. Four immediately threw off his shoes and jumped onto his bed, picking up the phone to order room service. 

“So we’re doing ten pounds of ribs, potatoes, and?” He asked as I grabbed the large glass so I can put some more water in it for Anya. 

“See if they have any cheesecake. Make it an oreo cheesecake.” I poured the courtesy pitcher of water for Anya not to drink too much water. 

“You wanna finish your story about six?” I asked him as I threw off my tank top I had on to reach into my bag for my hoodie. 

“Six was a drag racer from somewhere out east who didn’t make me feel so out of place with the rest of them, till you joined the team.” My cheeks feel a little funny. They feel like they’ve been twisted a little bit as I tried to focus on Anya. 

“Well. I’m glad I’ve made your experience on this team a little more relaxing because I can imagine being in this doesn’t have it’s relaxing or happy moments. Now order the food so we can stuff our faces and make One’s bank have a heart attack.” I told him as he dialed for room service then noticed something on the tv. 

“Eight! We can go do a sky jump from Stratosphere tower!” Say what? I looked up from Anya to see an ad on TV about a bungee cord thing over by the tower. 

“You in?” 

“I’m in.” We’re two unknown people in this world and now declared dead. Let’s go have some fun then! 

~~

Now how do dead people usually have fun? Rob a bank, destroy a multi million corporation? Nope. You got bungee jumping and use the money to close it for the two of ya. Gotta love one’s money and how much can persuade two college students for the rest of their career. 

“Ya know after the amount of buildings we’ve both jumped, dangled, and even fallen from. Yet I still am a little scared that it’s going to snap and I die.” Trying to calm myself down as we made it to the jumping area. 

“Think of it as that jump oh my god this is going to be fun.” He was getting excited as he was the first to be put in the harness. He complained about jumping over a wall into a compound but now he’s dying to jump from a very tall needle thing in Vegas? Of course. 

“See ya at the bottom.” He got a running start as he made the jump. I could hear him screaming in joy the entire way down. Is he doing flips? Oh my god it’s like being back home again. My body began to relax as it has before when I used to fly through the air when a time was much more simpler and full of color. 

I was strapped into my harness as I made the running start just as four did! When my feet jumped over the edge it felt so damn freeing! The wind was rushing through my hair as I could hear the trumpets, trombones, drums, and the entire orchestra of a life before my true colors came into play! 

“HELL YEAH!” I yelled as I finally did a front flip as I was getting close to the bottom. Four caught me from my jump as I tried to regain my balance from the jumping rush. He took a step back away as the kid came to help me out of this 80s tracksuit. 

“Oh my god that was so much fun! I forgot how much fun that was oh my god!” I laughed as the other college student helped me get out of the yellow and blue jumpsuit. 

“When we’re done with the whole turkistan mission. I think we need to take a climbing trip.” Four made the comment as I climbed out from the jump suit. A climbing trip? 

“As in climbing a mountain?” I asked as we began walking off the target zone. 

“Something a little smaller. Why not go scaling something in Wyoming or even Utah. I’ve heard there’s a lot of rock wall climbing out there.” Is he asking me out on a nature date? Or just a date in general? Although I’ve heard the southwest of America definitely has some beautiful views that is definitely worth the climb. 

“Sure. Haven’t done a nature climbing thing in a very long time.” Well. Guess I have a date after we kill a Government leader. 

How romantic. PFt hahahaha!

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#ben hardy #ben hardy fluff #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy x oc #ben hardy x female reader #6 underground #6 Underground Four #6 Underground Billy #Ben Hardy 6 Underground #Four/Billy #Four #Four x Reader #6 Underground Fan Fic #6 Underground Fiction

[justjessame]

If Only Someone Looked At Me Like They Look At Guns 5

I woke up with the sun streaming through the two windows flanking my bed. Feeling far better than I had that morning, at least I hoped it was that morning, I started to stretch. The realization I was only clothed in my bra and panties came rushing to the forefront along with the knowledge that I had kicked away the sheets and quilt. Hearing a gruff chuckle, I turned and struggled to see which one was laughing. Squinting, I felt my glasses being placed on my nose. Murphy stood next to my bed, a grin on his face.

“Yer lookin’ a bit worried,” he whispered, sitting down on the bed as I groped for my sheet to cover myself. “Do nah worry, ya did it yerself.”

I choked on my words as Connor joined us. Well, fuck. “Ah, yer awake.” He smiled at me and sat on the opposite side of the bed from Murphy. “Yer a bit of a chatter in yer sleep, ain’t ya?”

I felt my blush burn. Jesus. I cleared my throat and fought to find words. “Can you two give me a minute, so I can get dressed?” I asked, my voice quiet.

An echo of chuckling greeted me. “Bit like closin’ da gate after da horse gets loose.” Connor answered, not getting up.

“Yeah,” Murphy agreed. “Came in when ya firs started jabberin’. Ya were tossin’ yer clothes off like de offended ya.”

God, just let this bed swallow me already. “You say I was talking in my sleep? Do I wanna know what I said?” Looking between them, I noticed they looked almost as embarrassed as I did. “Guys?” I don’t know why I was pushing, obviously anything that made these two uncomfortable would horrify me. Curiosity though.

“Nearly didn’t ‘ear ya at firs.” Murphy answered, his voice as quiet as I had been.

Connor nodded, leaning in. “Yeah, da firs was more like a moan.”

“What was a moaning?” Jesus, Tess, stop asking.

“My name,” Connor answered, of course, I nodded.

“Den ya started tossin’ yer clothes off.” Murphy added to the tale. Clearly they agreed to tell me it fully now. “An’ my name came outta ya.”

Shit. Fuck. “Oh.” I replied, hoping that was the end of it.

“My name again.” Connor went on, “I tried ter cover ya, but ya were fightin’ like a hellcat against da blankets.”

Murphy leaned forward, “Last ting ya said was my name.”

Well, great. Now I can never look them in the fucking eye again. “Wow.” I said, picking at the quilt I’d tossed away.

“Hey.” Murphy said, trying to draw my attention back to their faces. I fought against it, my burning face stayed focused on the blanket in my fingers.

“Don’ be embarrassed.” Connor whispered, daring to touch my hand with his left.

I finally looked up at their faces. “Ya tink yer da only one tinkin’ dos tots?” Murphy asked, reaching out with his right hand to brush my braid back over my shoulder.

“Sweet heaven, woman,” Connor breathed. “Been tryin’ our damndest to keep our ‘ands to ourselves since ya invited us in las night.”

“Den lettin’ ya check for scars.” Murphy’s voice sounded gruff. “Tot I was gonna burst wit ya runnin’ yer ‘ands all over us.”

I licked my lips and gave them both a shy smile. “Oh.” I said, simple and not nearly articulate. Maybe a change of subject would work. “How long have I been asleep?”

“Couple ‘ours.” Connor said, sitting back.

I nodded. “I should get dressed and go relieve Romeo.” They shook their heads. “He doesn’t know where my extra key is.” I argued.

“Da one in yer office?” Murphy asked, eyebrow raised. “Not dat ‘ard to find.”

“He’ll drop it ‘ere later.” Connor agreed. “Ya need a rest.”

“Doc tol us ya keep doin’ it all yerself.” Murphy nodded.

They were teaming up against me. And making good fucking points. This sucked. “Still need to get dressed and make us lunch.”

Another round of knowitall grinning. “Done.” Connor said, smug as shit.

“Picked up da stuff on yer list on my way back.” Murphy looked just as fucking pleased with himself.

“And some sliced meat, fer sandwiches.” Connor added.

Taking care of me. I nearly burst out laughing. My dad was worried about these two hurting me and they were grocery shopping and watching over me while I fucking slept. Jesus.

“Thank you.” I smiled. “I still need clothes.” They looked aghast. “I am NOT eating in my underwear.”

“Be like dinner an’ a show fer us.” Connor pouted.

I rolled my eyes and stood from the bed. Screw kicking them out, apparently they’d had an eyeful while I was out. I grabbed my jeans off the floor and stood back facing them while I put them back on. Ignoring their groans, I pulled my t-shirt over my head. Facing them again, I told them it was time to eat.

HOURS LATER

Romeo had shown up right around the time I normally would have. He handed me my key and grabbed a sandwich and a beer that the boys had added to my shopping list. Since they’d obviously paid, I didn’t care. They sat laughing while Romeo regaled us with the day he’d spent in my shop.

“Then this chick, I shit you not,” he was telling us, mouth full of sandwich, and barely chewing, “asked me where Austin was.” He rolled his eyes. “Texas, duh.”

I groaned, wondering how many sales I lost today. “She meant Jane Austen, Romeo.” They all looked at me. “She’s the author of the classics ‘Sense and Sensibility’ and ‘Pride and Prejudice’.” Christ, I thought, there are a fuck ton of movies based on the books.

“Ah, shit.” Romeo sighed. “Thought she laughed cause she thought I was hot. Fuck. I think I saw one of those movies too. My aunt loves that sentimental, romantic bullshit.”

I rolled my eyes. “So aside from that, how was business?”

“Really fuckin’ good.” He said, finishing his sandwich and tossing back the beer. “Never knew books were that fuckin’ popular.” I fought back a snort. “And the coffee? Fuck those people drank that shit up.”

“Good.” I said, smiling despite myself. “I’ll go in a little earlier tomorrow. Make sure everything is ready to go.”

I heard sighs from both sides of me. “Do ya have ta?” Connor asked, as though I was taking away a new toy. “A break is jus wat ya need.” Murphy agreed.

I shook my head. “No, it’s my business. I have to get back to it.”

“Tink yer can sleep t’night?” Murphy asked, voice low and rough.

I fought against squirming and nodded. “Sure.”

Romeo watched the three of us and drained his beer. “Welp, gotta get back to Doc’s.” They barely glanced at him. “Let me know if I can help ya again, Tess.”

I nodded and thanked him. The door clicked behind him and I stood to go lock it. Connor stopped me, heading that way to flick the locks as Murphy wrapped his arms around me from behind.

“Let’s get ya ready fer bed.” His breath played against my ear and I fought from moaning at the warmth.

It was barely seven o’clock. I had a feeling I wasn’t heading to bed for sleep. Murphy picked me up, much like his brother had that morning, and carried me to my bedroom. He’d barely set me down beside the bed, before his mouth claimed mine. Good lord. I stood on my toes, reaching to slide my hands into his hair. Holding him against me, I could taste cigarettes and beer on his tongue. I didn’t partake in either in pure form, but combined with the taste of him, it was becoming a favorite.

“Started witout me?” Connor admonished from behind his brother.

I felt Murphy chuckle against my mouth, and he pulled away. “Couldn’t ‘elp myself. Look at ‘er.”

Connor stepped to my side, and drunk me in. “Aye, she’s a beaut.” He ran a finger along my cheek, and down my neck. “Tink I can ‘ave a taste?” He asked, and I nodded, releasing my hand from behind Murphy’s head and pulling him toward me.

Still wrapped in Murphy’s arms, Connor’s mouth took mine. They tasted similar, but Connor’s mouth was more insistent. He pulled me from Murphy and yanked me to him. Our bodies pressed together, as I fought to keep up. Cigarettes and beer, but so much better. Dear fucking God. I was going under with these two.

I felt Murphy pressed against my back, and I felt that ground rules needed made and fast, before my entire resolve crumbled. I pulled away from Connor’s mouth and held up a shaking hand.

“Stop,” I gasped for breath. “Give me a second. I think I have to let you guys know my rules for this.”

They stopped, but didn’t release me from their grasp. I felt Murphy nod into my shoulder, where he’d been pulling down my t-shirt to taste. Connor nodded as well.

“I’ve never,” shit, this was awkward. “I don’t do two at once.” Dear God, was I blushing again? “I want this, both of you, but I can’t have the two of you together at once.” Shit, how do you tell two very hot Irishmen you don’t do double penetration? “I mean-”

I felt them lightly chuckle against me. “Ya don want us to be inside ya at once?” Connor said, putting words to my inability. I nodded weakly.

“Dat’s fine wit us,” Murphy said, his hot breath playing against the slight dampness he’d made on my skin. “Not much fer feelin’ one ‘nother.”

I released a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. “Then, it’s ok, if I want both of you?” I was curious, but I didn’t want to choose between them. It was like picking one side of a coin.

Another light laugh. “Been waitin’ ferever to fin’ a girl who understood dat we’re together.” Connor said, his breath playing against my lips.

“Not many girls understand,” Murphy said, his teeth nipping at my skin lightly as I moaned. “Dey tink it’s a one off.”

“Usually want wat ya don’.” Connor finished. His lips brushing mine.

I let his lips claim me again, while feeling Murphy’s taste my shoulder. Dear God, if I had them both at once, like this all the time, I’d fucking die. Luckily I knew this was simply foreplay. They were getting me revved up, so one or the other would get first dibs. Fuck.

“So-” I wanted to ask, but wasn’t sure how.

Another shared chuckle. “Which one is firs?” Murphy asked, and answered my issue.

Connor pulled away from where his lips had traveled down the other side of my neck. “Me brudder, he saw ye firs.” Ah, made sense, I suppose. “Dis is just cause we need to taste ya.”

“Like we need air.” Murphy agreed from the other side of my neck. “Taste like apples.”

“An’ strawberries.” Connor murmured against my skin.

Dear God, I was on fire. I needed them, one of them, now. “Murphy,” my mouth moaned, and I felt them both chuckle against my skin.

“Already?” Connor asked, flicking his tongue against my pulsepoint. “Tot we was jus gettin’ started.”

I arched against him and he nipped at my skin, as Murphy’s hands ran down the length of my body, tugging at the hem of my shirt. “Don tink we can keep dis goin’.” His voice was gruff against my shoulder. “She’s almost crawlin’ outta her skin, Connor.”

I felt his brother nod, and then, Connor moved. He lay down on the opposite side of the bed from where we stood. Oh, not inside at the same time, but together nonetheless. Watching the two of us, I noticed that he was staying clothed.

“Can’t take ‘em off, girl.” Connor’s voice was raw and low. “If I do, won’t be able ter stop meself.” I gave a shaky nod as Murphy moved to stand in front of me.

“Let’s get ya ready for bed,” he repeated, and even in the dim light of the street lamps filtering through my lace curtains, I could tell how dark his eyes were. His hands moved back to the hem of my shirt, rough fingertips sliding under and grazing my skin. Then he pulled it up and over my head, tossing it at the chair close to my bed. “Fuck, yer beautiful, Tess.” His fingers scraped over my skin, setting me on fire. His fingers found the waistband of my jeans, sliding along the route to the front, he had them unsnapped and unzipped faster than I thought possible. Kneeling in front of me, he slid them down my legs and I felt my breath leave me. Shit, he was on his knees in front of me with his head bowed and suddenly I understood the Saint moniker. I bit my lip, letting my fingers slide through the rough strands of his hair. I lifted each foot, letting him strip me of my pants. Feeling his hands slide back up my legs, I felt my arousal grow. I wasn’t naked yet, and I wanted him so bad I could beg.

I felt his breath against my damp panties, and moaned. “Murphy,” my voice pleaded. I felt him sigh and then his lips brushed against my wetness through the lace. My hands clutched his shoulders as my knees shook.

“Bes’ lay ‘er down, brudder,” Connor’s voice sounded raspy. “‘Fore she falls.”

Murphy chuckled, the vibrations against me felt like heaven. “She’s nah ready fer bed yet, Connor.” HIs fingers hooked the waistband of my panties and slid them down my legs. “Can nah have ‘er half undone, can we?”

My eyes closed, and I was panting. Half undone? Fuck, I wouldn’t survive one brother, much less two. I felt his hands roaming back up my body as he rose to his feet. Far more graceful than I had, I imagined. I opened my eyes to see him staring down at me with such affection and need that I almost stopped breathing entirely. His hands moved around my back and unsnapped my bra, the one remaining piece of my clothes standing between me and my sanity. And then it fell away and I heard his gasp. “So fuckin’ beautiful.” His voice was raw and gruff, and I wanted to hear it forever. Biting his bottom lip, he tilted my head for another kiss, and lifted me in his arms. “Ready fer bed?” I nodded, and felt his smile against my lips. “Good, cause so am I.”

He laid me down next to his brother and stepped back. Murphy didn’t even seem to notice Connor, but I could feel the heat of his skin, even as my eyes never left Murphy’s. I watched as he tore off his own clothes, and my eyes fluttered as he crawled over me. “Touch me, Tess.” He pleaded, and as though I couldn’t help, but do as I was asked, I did.

Running my hands over his shoulders, down his arms, I pulled him toward me. Skin to skin, as his lips claimed mine. “I can’t wait any longer, Murphy.” I begged, my voice a breath against his lips. His answering smile, curving against my own, was the only affirmation I got for my request. The next movement had him filling me and I lost words and thoughts, as the feeling of completion took over. Jesus, I thought, feeling him still inside me, what had I been nervous about? I arched against him and his moan was like choral music. Fuck. I bit my lip and rocked my hips, urging him to move. And then he did.

Holy Christ, I thought, thanking goodness I didn’t voice it out loud, because hearing “Lord’s name” being admonished at this point would wreck my tiny shred of control. Murphy set a slow, torturous pace. Sliding out so I could feel every fucking inch of him and back in just as slow, dear heaven I’d know every vein, every twist, ever bump by heart at this pace. My head was pressed tight into the pillow, and I was fighting against everything to keep from screaming. “Don’ hol’ back,” he growled against my neck, nipping my skin. “Let us ‘ear ya.” Us, them, dear lord. And that made me moan, whimper against his pace, begging without words for him to move faster, to give me MORE.

Connor spoke, and my hips lurched against Murphy at the reminder that he was watching. “Tink she wans yer to move faster, brudder.” Fuck, he could tell just by watching. “Torturin’ ‘er ain’t doin’ either o’ya a favor.”

That did it, Murphy bit my shoulder and snapped his hips against mine. My interior walls clamped against him and he groaned at the feeling. Suddenly he was everywhere, inside of me, running those harshly calloused hands down my body, digging into my hips, his lips kissing and teeth biting my skin, as he drove himself in and out of me at a frantic speed. And I was a mess, my hand clutching at his hair, one tangled in the sheet beneath me, crying out with every feeling he was building. I felt Connor take my hand that was gripping the sheet, and that did it, I screamed as I came, undone, clutching at the two of them, inside and out.

Murphy’s thrust stuttered, as he started his own climb. His movements were less driven, more needy, as his mouth found mine and he kissed me, bringing me along with him. He swallowed the next scream even as he fed me his own moans. I felt him spill inside me, and I wrapped my legs around his hips, holding him to me. I wanted to keep him inside of me for as long as possible. Him inside, Connor anchoring me to the world with his hand, I felt fuller than I ever had. Murphy’s head found the crook of my shoulder and he pressed his full weight on top of me. I sighed in contentment, running my fingers through his sweaty hair, smiling at the feeling of him.

As I drifted off to sleep, I wondered if this could work. Could we work? I never considered the work they’d come back to Boston to do. What they’d run away after doing before, didn’t matter. All that seemed to matter to me was now. Them and me. I slid into sleep feeling protected and loved.

#Connor MacManus X OFC X Murphy MacManus #Boondock Saints 2 #no twincest #Smut #alternative universe