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loko4koko · 5 months

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·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ Gojo Satoru x f!reader ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

100 FOLLOWER MILESTONE CELEBRATION ✰

>fanart_credit: _3aem (via_twitter)

MDNI 18+

>word_count: 7293

>contents: slight crack (it’s a gojo fic what do u expect), established relationship, fake engagements, excessive use of “fiancé/fiancée”, satoru is DOWN BAD like ultra simp 3000 levels, kiiinda rich boy!gojo but like barely, gojo calls you “angel” and baby” a lot, cunnilingus, kinda feral!gojo too, multiple orgasms (f!receiving), multiple positions, explicit p in v, rough(ish) sex, creampie, gojo being a lil slut for you, itty bitty dacryphilia (if you squint mad hard)

there’s a standoff happening in your kitchen. a staring contest of sorts. the tension in the air is palpable, so thick you could taste it if you stuck out your tongue. your opponent is a worthy contender, giving just as good as it gets. your nose twitches with the intensity of it, eyes narrowed as you keep your gaze firm, focused.

your adversary in this battle? a red, velvet ring box.

god, it’s like it’s taunting you with it’s delicate heart shape. smug little box, just sitting on the dining table unopened. you’re not sure how long you’ve been caught in the orbit of this suspicious item, but it must’ve been quite a while, according to your boyfriend.

“babeee, i’ve been calling you! what’re you doing?” satoru appears from the direction of your bedroom, frown on his face from his belief that you’re purposely ignoring him. he slips behind you, arms around your torso as he leaves a kiss on the top of your head.

“oh,” he laughs as he fixes his eyes on what has you so engrossed, “it’s not what you think.”

this is what gets your attention, turning your head so your gaze is no longer on the little box, but on satoru instead. “what, you proposing to your other girlfriend or something?” you pout. he laughs again, annoyingly louder this time.

“baby, i’m not proposing to anybody yet. and you know i don’t have another girlfriend. it took me 3 years to get you to say yes to one date, you think i’m pulling that off again? thanks for putting faith into my game, though.” you can’t help but to roll your eyes in jest, turning in the man’s arms to wrap yourself around him.

“yeah, yeah, whatever. so…what is it then?”

“it’s a ring.”

“i thought you said you weren’t proposing…”

“okay well, technically, i am. but listen! i saw online some guy and his girlfriend went to different restaurants with a fake ring and when he ‘proposed’ to her, they gave them free food and desserts! so. we’re doing that.”

you pull yourself from satoru’s grasp, staring up at him blankly. he gives you a goofy smile in return, bringing a hand up to boop your nose when you remain silent.

“satoru….really? doing this just so you can get free chocolate lava cakes and ice cream? i’m definitely deleting tiktok from your phone, damn app gives you way too many ideas.” and there he goes frowning again, pretty pink lips downturned so dramatically.

“baby, no…i’m doing this so that WE can get free chocolate lava cakes and ice cream. what kind of selfish, evil man do you take me for? … and you’re not deleting my tiktok! how else am i going to send nanami videos he claims to not watch but always knows about when i ask him?”

a sigh leaves you as you shake your head, truly experiencing defeat. you, and everyone else that had ever met him for that matter, knew that there was no changing satoru’s mind when the words “free” and “dessert” were involved. he’d eat himself into a goddamn diabetic coma if you let him get away with it.

satoru enacts his master plan the next night, surprising you with a stunning new dress and a note that says to “look super sexy and marriageable (where the hell had he even learned that word?) as usual” left on your bed. you try your best to comply with his wishes, getting your makeup and hair as perfect as you can before slipping the very revealing dress on. you realize something rather odd while you doll yourself up; satoru hasn’t come home to get himself ready. it was almost 6pm, the time designated by him in his little note, and you were practically ready aside from some jewelry and shoes. you couldn’t imagine that he would make you wait while he showered and dressed, so you were a little bit confused, but you decide to brush it off while you pick between solid gold hoops and diamond-encrusted dangles, both courtesy of the man in question.

when 6:04pm rolls around, and your fancy yves saint laurent heels are wrapped around your feet, the front door opens. you look up from your seat at the kitchen island with a wine glass in hand, and, in the most cliché way possible, your breath is stolen right out of your lungs. satoru was always stupidly beautiful, just so gorgeous that it made you sick, but now? he looked even more alluring than usual. those inhumanly blue eyes were hidden behind his typical shades, masterfully tailored suit adorning his lanky form like it was painted on. his deep red button up, the same color as your cocktail dress, was unbuttoned for the first three (because he was a slut.) and to top it all off, he was wearing that same award winning smile that he’d dazzled you with so many years ago. if he wasn’t so set on his goddamn desserts, you’d bend over and spread your thighs for him right there on the counter.

“holy fuck,” is the first thing he says to you, grip on a bouquet of what looks like dark red carnations and burgundy roses tightening as he takes you in. he takes off his glasses as he draws in closer, pure reverence in his eyes the whole time. “angel, you look…you look fucking edible. my god. what a woman.” you’re not new to satoru’s comments and compliments, far from it, but tonight, they were hitting a little different, for lack of a better term. maybe it was the look in his eyes, some kind of compound of love and burning desire, but something else, too. something almost…determined, but you don’t know what he’d be determined to do other than put on a good show.

“so, eat me then,” you tease, though the heat in your cheeks and your eyes not meeting his gives away how flustered he’s got you. he’s still looking you over, scrutinizing every pretty inch of you with an overwhelming intensity before his steely gaze levels to yours.

“mm, tempting, but it’ll have to wait; we have to go get engaged first. these,” he holds the flowers out to you, “are yours, my arrestingly beautiful queen.” you can’t help but to laugh at his ultra-corny pet names, but they warm your heart nonetheless, rising from your stool to find a vase to fill with water.

“where were you, anyway? you show up all dressed to the nines on me out of nowhere. what, did you get ready in the car or something?” you ask, back to the white-haired man while you dig around in a cabinet.

“suguru helped me out, kept my suit and let me shower at his place..” he says, almost distantly. you can’t see it, but satoru is watching you, worshipping you with his eyes as you flit around the kitchen in your heels and your dress and your oh so seductive aura. he’s never seen anything or anyone be more mesmerizing in his life, and he knows he never will.

arriving at the first restaurant of the three satoru had planned has your nerves alighting. what if they knew you were faking it? god, how disgraceful that would be—caught in your goober of a boyfriend’s silly scheme would have you too embarrassed to show your face in public for at least two months. but then he smiles at you from the driver seat- a genuine one that eases your anxieties and soothes your concerns, one so brilliant that it instills you with the necessary confidence to go commit…whatever form of fraud this whole thing is. you give him one in return, reaching out to cup his cheek before you’re leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his lips. you can feel him smile even wider when you do.

“so, how much do you want me to sell this? ‘cause, if i cry now, it might not be so believable at the next place.” satoru’s pushing in your chair when you speak, smoothing his hands down your shoulders before giving you a squeeze. he takes his own seat, flipping the menu open to browse through the beverage list.

“best as you can with no tears. gotta save those for the last one,” he tilts his glasses down to send you a wink, and, for the millionth time within your relationship, you’re light-heartedly rolling your eyes at him. “you got it, baby. but! if you don’t share whatever disgustingly sweet, sugar-stuffed, chocolate-drizzled, candy-coated bullshit you ask for, it’s gonna be your pretty little ass.” he laughs at your threat and throws his hands up in resignation. you might be smiling when you say it, but you surely aren’t joking, and he knows it.

you both decide to keep dinner small and light, knowing you’re going to gorge yourselves on whatever insulin-raising dishes your dear boyfriend chooses to indulge in. it’s not long after you put your fork down when he gives you ‘the look.’ you have to use all of your willpower not to smile, woosah-ing yourself into the role of an unsuspecting girlfriend about to be proposed to. you paint a look of surprise on your face when he gets down on one knee, giving you a charming little speech about how he’d “wanted to do this for so, so long” and how he “could never love another the way he loves you, never want to. so please baby, will you marry me?” it’s actually rather romantic, makes you wonder how close it all is to his true feelings for you.

you and satoru hardly ever explicitly talked about marriage, but he did always talk about how he wanted to be with you forever (or rather, that he’d jump off a bridge if you ever broke up with him, but that wasn’t as eloquent.) he’d mention plans of a big house he wanted to put you in, so he could come home to you and your warm embrace every day until he was old and wrinkly beside you. so, maybe not an outright “hey, we’re getting married some day,” but it was most definitely implied.

at the end of satoru’s little scripted scene, he pulls out that same heart-shaped ring box from the table, opening it up to showcase a square cut diamond, one you’re sure must be a piece of costume jewelry for the occasion. you gasp, climbing out of your seat to throw your arms around him with a “yes! yes, i’ll marry you!” he picks you up, standing back up to his full height as he delicately sways you back and forth. you share a kiss, one you let a few secret giggles into, before you part, allowing your boyfriend the pleasure of sliding the ring onto your finger. the patrons of the restaurant that’d been watching the spectacle all clap at what they believe to be a genuine display of affection, including your waiter from his station near the kitchen. it’s a lot of attention, but being with someone that looks like (and acts like, and is) satoru means you’re relatively used to stares and whispers. he gives you one more sloppy smooch before he’s helping you back into your seat, giving a bow of thanks to the other customers before he’s sitting, too.

when the waiter comes back to offer up your grand prize, with eyes dampened from your well-acted performance, satoru keeps it simple and orders a non-nauseating plate of assorted mochi ice cream. and when it comes to the table, he plucks one of the cold, sweet little treats in between his long fingertips and reaches his equally lengthy arm across the table to feed it to you with not a lick of selfishness. fuck the dessert, he’d share the entire moon with you if it was in his possession.

“babe, we fucking killed that. that lady? in the black blouse? she was crying, like, actually crying! i almost feel bad, but that mochi was to die for, so i’d say it was a worthy crime.” you jabber excitedly on your walk back to the car, hand in hand with your stage fiancé. he’s staring down at you as you prattle on, knows he should be watching where he’s going but fuck, you’re so stunning and you go along with his admittedly very childish desires for free sweets and yeah, he really is so whipped, it’s not even funny. he’d never deny it, either—the man who carries multiple pictures of you in his wallet and as his phone background, the man who gives you massages and shares from his candy stash when you’re on your period, the one who can’t get mad at you when you fall asleep on him during a movie he really wanted to see? there’d be an ice-cold day in hell before that man—the only gojo satoru—ever denies being hopelessly, foolishly, irrevocably in love with you.

the second restaurant that you and satoru pull your scheme on is a tad bit more upscale than the first—not to say the first eatery wasn’t upscale, would never be the case with your luxury loving boyfriend—and you absorb your surroundings from your place on the man’s arm while he checks your reservation in with the maître d. for this place, as fancy as it is, you think you’ll tone down the theatrics, keep it a little classier this time around. you don’t want to embarrass yourself or satoru with some overly acted performance that screamed fake. the suited man behind the counter leads you to a table, not smack-dab in the middle of the dining area but not very secluded either, something perfect for the exhibition you were going to put on.

“you know, you’re setting me up for some very high expectations, ‘toru,” you speak from behind your wine glass, eyes on what would be his if it weren’t for the glasses he still wears. he looks up from his menu, head tilted inquisitively.

“is that so?”

“mhm. that ring you got looks nice, but you’ve spoiled me. i’m gonna need one way bigger now. and,” you pause, taking another swig from your glass, “you’ll have to really surprise me. i mean, this restaurant is really nice, but if you keep this up, we’re gonna run out of fancy restaurants for you to actually propose to me in. there’re only so many, y’know.” your tone is coated in sarcasm, but satoru doesn’t laugh. instead, he smirks, closing his menu and placing it to the side.

“don’t worry your pretty little head about that, sweet girl. you’ll be very surprised when it happens.”

the meal is delicious, as expected, and your plates are cleared soon after. satoru’s laughing at a story you have about your neighbor’s adorable little kitty cat that keeps trying to sneak into your apartment while he pours you another glass of an unnecessarily expensive wine he insisted on.

“are you ready?” he asks when you finish, and you give him a short nod, quick to prepare yourself again for the false astonishment you have to give and the onslaught of eyes that were soon to be on the two of you.

he reaches across the table to take your left hand in his, eyes peering up at you over his glasses when he leans down to press his lips against your ring finger.

“i love you,” he murmurs before he’s up and out of his seat. he approaches your side of the table but he doesn’t do his part of getting down on one knee yet, opting instead to cup your cheek with a hold so gentle you’d assume he thought you were made of glass.

“i mean it, i really do love you more than anything in this world.” you don’t have time to respond to the declaration before he’s descending to his knee, taking your hand yet again as he gives you another speech. this one is different than the last, but just as full of genuine love.

“you make my days worth living, baby. you make the sun look like a streetlight in comparison to how much you light up my life. you’re so funny, so smart, so generous, and you put up with the…less than favorable parts of my personality with very minimal complaints.” he says that last part with a little bit of disdain and it has you giggling in a way no one else can bring out of you, despite your slightly glossy eyes. “my perfect girl, will you marry me?”

and there it is, the ring box you’d been waiting to see since you stepped into this establishment full of onlookers. he opens the box and slides the ring onto your finger before he even gets your verbal answer, but it doesn’t matter because you’re nodding and smiling like a damn idiot, as if it’s real. you try not to dwell on that thought for long.

“of course i’ll marry you, satoru.” he carefully pulls you up out of your chair and cups your face again, this time with both hands, lips against yours in a kiss much more serious than the last time you did this. there’s more applause following suit, but you can’t pay attention to anyone but satoru, who’s kissing you so deeply that the restaurant could be burning to a crisp and you would be none the wiser. when you part, he’s grinning, a little bit from the wine buzz and a lot from the adrenaline of proposing to his gorgeous girlfriend, staged as it was.

your waitress is quick to congratulate you both, and when she mentions the one thing that satoru came here for—that goddamned free dessert—he lets you choose. but you’re so generous, his sweet little sweetheart, just like he said in his speech, and you pick something sugar-stuffed, and chocolate drizzled, and so fucking satoru that it makes your teeth ache. you’re always, always, thinking about him, and he loves you all the more for it.

when you get to the last restaurant/soon-to-be victim of theft of services, you’re feeling very practiced in the art of deception. the tears you were able to evoke out of the unknowing guests, and the ones satoru almost pulled out of you had you unwaveringly confident in both your own and satoru’s level of skill as thespians this time around.

this place is a far cry from the previous two and you can tell before you even step foot inside, the architectural marvel of a building radiating the energy of one of those “sorry, we’re booked 3 years in advance” kind of places. you have no doubt that satoru could get in anywhere if he wanted to, though- the man was quick to offer bribes well into the range of some people’s entire salaries. if he wanted something, he was unrelenting, tenacious even—traits you admired greatly about him.

the moment you step inside, you start to feel a little swell of anxiety. this was..intense. the lighting was much more moody, with floor to ceiling windows giving the diners a view of a beautiful garden, lush with greenery. you and satoru had dined well before, but this was something entirely different. he leads you to the reception desk where another maître d, not dissimilar to the one before, greets you with an air of extreme professionalism. satoru gives the man his name, and you’re left a little confused when his eyes widen in what you think is surprise. he gives your boyfriend a quick nod before he dashes off, and you try not to focus too much on how expensive this place must be or why satoru would come here of all places for a free dessert, but it’s hard not to. the wall behind the reception desk is practically covered in plaques of awards, the words “michelin star” and “winner of..” plastered on most of them. you know those aren’t easily earned, so you try to think less about the exorbitant cost you know your boyfriend is paying, instead doing your best to enjoy this probably once-in-a-lifetime dining experience.

the man from before returns, with another more sharply dressed man, who grins wide when he sees satoru and yourself. he shakes your man’s hand firmly, giving a nod of his head in the direction of the dining area. the restaurant is gorgeous, past that really, but a little under-populated for satoru’s plan to have it’s most effectiveness. besides, what’s the point of a fake proposal if no one is gonna see it?

you mention your previous thoughts to satoru once you’re seated, but he just gives you a smile and says “don’t worry about anything other than enjoying yourself.”

so you don’t. you reminisce on funny, and sometimes embarrassing stories about your past with satoru—sharing laughter, and food you can’t fucking pronounce, and glasses of ridiculously high-priced alcohol.

“you’re the most wonderful woman in the world, angel,” he muses some time down the line, “thank you. i don’t fucking deserve you.” his words have you putting your glass down, reaching across the table to mirror his earlier actions by taking his hand, with your face set into a frown.

“i don’t like it when you say things like that, satoru. you do deserve me..because i say you do. you’re not- you’re not hard to love, satoru; it’s actually very, very easy. and i love loving you, and i’m gonna keep doing it every fucking day that you’ll have me. okay? so none of that,” you say, squeezing his much larger hand in your own.

“what if i wanted to have you forever?” he asks, eyes still hidden behind those increasingly unnecessary glasses. the restaurant is far more dimly lit than the first two, but the urge to complain comes only from how much you miss looking into those dazzling blue pools.

“well, i’d give you forever and then some. you’re not getting rid of me, ‘toru,” you grin, taking the stem of your glass between the fingers of your free hand and lifting it to your lips. satoru follows the movement behind his shades, watches how the delicate line of your throat bobs with your swallowing with a sort of reverie that is usually described in religious texts. he’d pray for you, pray to you, anything. he’d learn how to sculpt just so your beauty could be immortalized for all of eternity.

satoru says your name and you hum, quick to swallow down the rest of your sake before giving him a sweet smile with your eyebrows raised.

“i hope you meant what you said—about forever.” you’re about to ask him what his foreboding words mean but you’re interrupted by none other than satoru himself, rising from his seat for the third and final time this evening to bring himself down to one knee. you’re about to laugh and quietly chide him for not giving you time to prepare for the show when you hear the sound of a piano, looking over your shoulder to see a man sitting at the once unmanned instrument. you turn further still and see that all of the staff has crowded around the edges of the room, all holding intricately crafted bouquets of..dark red carnations and burgundy roses, much like the one he’d given you, both granting you space but still wanting to watch the grand gesture that your boyfriend prepared.

“satoru, what’s….did you call ahead or something? this is…kind of a lot for a dessert i could make you at home..” he smiles and shakes his head at your endearing ignorance to the situation, reaching up to pull his glasses off for the first time all night. those eyes that you missed so much, they were rimmed with a faint redness. you couldn’t help but act on your instincts, reaching out to cup his face in your careful—caring—hands. you don’t get the chance to ask him what has him tearing up so much before he starts, a speech entirely new leaving his lips.

“if you think that loving me is easy, then loving you is child’s play. loving you is…one of the greatest gifts that i have ever or could ever be granted. you don’t always see it, and i like it that way, but sometimes—a lot of times—i look at you like you created the heavens and the earth. you are the heavens and the earth to me. you’re everything to me. your laugh alone could cure me of any ails. i don’t know what i did to make such a beautiful, loving, gentle, smart, hilarious, talented woman fall in love with my stupid ass, but fuck, baby, i thank the universe every day for you. you give me purpose. you give me strength. you give me the want to continue, when it feels like there’s no fight left in me.”

your eyes shimmer with unshed tears, lips parted in genuine shock that you hadn’t expected to feel tonight. you spare another glance at the staff before bringing your gaze back to satoru, voice caught in your throat and tongue heavy in your mouth.

“satoru, if- if you’re playing with me..if you’re doing this for your damn dessert, i-“

“no, baby, this- this is real. you are…the most exceptional person i know. you love me in a way that i didn’t know was possible before you came into my life. i’m so goddamn unworthy of you, but you chose me, and i swear, that for the rest of my life—the rest of our life—i’ll never let you down. please, angel. please make me the most blessed man on the planet and marry me?”

satoru reaches into the pocket of his suit pants as you stare in amazement, mascara tears fully running down your cheeks now. the ring box in his grasp is much different than the one from your faux-engagements—it’s black, shaped like an oval with silver ornamental designs around the perimeter. and when he opens it, your lip begins to quiver.

the ring is something so uniquely satoru, a thin silver band that splits into multiple vine-like channels, with little diamonds attached for the appearance of flowers. they meet at the top where the stone resides, and fuck, it’s big. it’s aquamarine, with several little prongs holding it’s marquise shape in place. it must’ve cost a fortune, and you can’t help but marvel at it as satoru takes your hand in his own again, lips against your ring finger one last time before he’s slipping the delicate piece of jewelry onto your finger.

“i need you to say it, angel. say you’ll marry me,” he pleads, blue eyes shining in the dimly lit space. you can’t hold back the sob that leaves you, nodding vigorously as you caress his face.

“yes, ‘toru, i’ll marry you.” you say through the tears, pressing your salt-covered lips to his. there’s applause behind you, just like the other “engagements,” but this time, you don’t need them there. you’d have said yes to him if it was 3 in the morning and you were half asleep, you’d have said it in the car on the way to the grocery store. you’d say yes to him anywhere, at any time.

true to satoru’s word, he doesn’t bother with the free dessert this time around. he’s too busy thinking about going home and getting a taste of his fiancée to bother with some fancy piece of cake. and he almost doesn’t make it home, pressing you up against the car with his right hand on the side of your face and the other on your waist. he kisses you so voraciously, like if he tried just that much harder, he could swallow you whole.

“satoru, stop!” you giggle against his ravenous mouth, “a public indecency charge wouldn’t be a great start to our engagement, you think?”

“i can’t help it. my fiancée just looks so good, i don’t think anybody’d blame me if i hiked your dress up right here,” he says, leaning his head down onto your shoulder to leave a kiss or two on the bare skin. you gently push him away, coy look in your eyes when you meet his own.

“at home, the dress comes all the way off.”

satoru has you both in the car with the keys in the ignition and the gearshift in ‘drive’ within 14 seconds.

the front door to your apartment is solid wood, and it’s cold against your back where satoru has, yet again, found a surface to press you up against. you barely made it three steps inside before he was on you, groping and squeezing anything his reach would allow. his lips are sweet where they meet yours, kinda like how they always are, from all the desserts and wines he’d indulged himself in. and somewhere in there, a taste that’s wholly satoru resides. it’s your favorite flavor. his tongue never asks permission to enter your mouth—it just does, licking up every bit of you that’s on offer, and it never satisfies his appetite.

“what was that you said earlier, baby? you want me to eat you, right?” he says between his desperate kisses and fuck, when did everything get so hot all of a sudden? the hand you have on his shoulder slinks up, coming to find its place in the short hairs of his undercut, and when you scrape your nails against his scalp he sighs into your mouth.

“you’re not too full from your desserts?” you tease breathily but it cuts into a gasp of surprise when he yanks your dress up and shoves his hand under the bunched fabric to rip your panties off, only to find your bare skin at his fingertips.

“oh, fuck- no panties, baby? y’want me ta eat that pretty pussy this bad?” he doesn’t wait for an answer, snatching your lips up in a quick, biting kiss that leaves you dizzy. he drops to his knees—funny how much he’s done that today—and lifts your dress further, gathering the material up at your waist. the way satoru marvels at your pussy is something he’d always done but fuck, can you blame him? you get so wet and you taste like the world’s rarest delicacy on his tongue and you’re so fucking warm and tight when he digs you out—he’d sing hymns about your pussy from the top of a mountain.

“my pretty fiancée givin’ me such easy access…such a sweet girl you are,” he praises with a kiss to your mound, “so fucking good t’me.” but he’s just as good to you—especially now, as he spreads your thighs and hikes one of your legs over his shoulder, unhesitatingly dipping his tongue in between your soaking wet folds. the contact of the slippery muscle on your sensitive flesh has you mewling, eyes slipping shut as he feasts on you. his mouth is as slick as it is when he’s talking, stroking his tongue up and down from your clit to your hole, and back again.

“fffuck- satoru..” you whimper, subconsciously grinding your hips into his face. he doesn’t mind, though- actually he encourages it; he loves it when you use him for your pleasure, makes him feel good to make you feel good. and that rings especially true now, as he stiffens his tongue and slides it into your aching hole that’s been clenching around nothing this entire time. he fucks you with it, much like he does with his cock- giving you a mix of slow and fast thrusts and keeping you on your toes. his large hands smooth up your thighs before one sneaks away to aid in him pulling you apart. his thumb finds your clit, massaging the little button in circles and you almost lose your balance, your hand flying out to grip onto his snow-like hair. your little mewls act as encouragement for the man between your legs; he’s studied you—your body—for years, and how each little flick and roll and curl of his tongue or fingers brings you closer and closer to cumming all over him. and he uses that knowledge so freely, long tongue prodding and pressing further and further into you, tip of the muscle kissing your g-spot.

satoru knows you, knows that when your thighs shake and your breathing turns to panting, he’s got you right where he wants you. you confirm that for him, when you look down at him to see those sparkling blue eyes staring back up at you and you moan “god, fuck- ‘toru, please baby, don’t stop, gonna cum f’you.” he’s ever so obedient, thumb moving in faster circles around your clit and his unrelenting tongue fucking into you just as quick. he keeps his gaze glued to your face because you look so goddamn pretty when you cum that he can’t bear to miss it. and he doesn’t, watching lustfully as your head sinks back against the door, hips stuttering as he licks the orgasm right out of you.

“out of all the meals i’ve had tonight,” satoru starts, lips shiny with your release when you open your eyes again, “you’re the most delicious.” you’d laugh at how corny he is, but your mind still hasn’t come fully back to you yet. satoru rises back to his normal stature of towering over you, even in your heels, and he can’t help but to dip his head down and kiss you. all those same flavors from before are muted behind the taste of you, and you almost hate to admit it, but you like that a lot.

“i need to be inside of you, baby,” satoru sighs into the kiss, leaning down to wrap his big hands around your outer thighs, and you get the idea quickly, letting him pick you up so you can wrap your legs around his hips. he carries you off to the bedroom, laying you down on the plush comforter that covers your bed. you sit back on your elbows and toe your heels off, eyes following his movements as he takes off his blazer.

“god, you look-“

“fuckable?”

“very.”

“so, what are you waiting for? fuck me, fiancé.”

he takes your invitation with fire in his eyes, moving in close to undo whatever horrid contraptions are keeping you clothed. when he gets the zipper down, he’s practically ripping you out of the dress, tossing the expensive garment off somewhere behind him. he’s pulling his own clothes off just as quickly, and when he gets his pants down you can’t help but to feel him through his black boxer briefs. he’s so hard, and he’s leaking like a goddamn faucet, the wet spot you feel near his tip growing larger and larger. he’s groaning against your neck as you touch him, pushing his hips into your palm desperately. but then he decides that he can’t take the teasing and the waiting anymore, so he’s sitting up on his haunches to shove his boxers down his thighs. he doesn’t even get them fully off before he’s grabbing your calf and dragging you towards him, gripping the base of his painfully stiff cock to line it up with your sopping pussy hole.

“ohmy-GOD, fuck- ah! satoru, slow downnnn!!” you gasp, crying out for him as he slams into you with no warning and sets a pace that could rival a jackrabbit.

“s-sorry, baby, jus’ need you- need you so fucking bad, shit- hnnng, fuuuck,” he moans, gripping your hips tight as he keeps hammering into you. you can’t keep your eyes open as much as you’d like to—satoru always looks so angelic when he’s flushed and panting from the vice-like grip your pussy has on him—but it’s okay, because he moans like a bitch in heat when he’s fucking you and that’s all you need. your nails are digging into whatever they can find, one hand twisted up in the blanket and the other pressed against satoru’s flexing abs as if you’re trying to stop him, but you both know that’s not true.

“so. fucking. wet.” he groans, punctuating each word with a hard thrust. he’s so deep inside that you know you’d feel him if you touched your belly, and the thought has tears of pleasure spilling down to your temples and into your hair.

“y-you feel so fucking good- ah- mmm- look so p-pretty taking my cock like this,” he whines, one hand leaving your hip to find your throat. he doesn’t add pressure, doesn’t squeeze, just lets his hand rest there like he needed to ground himself. he finds himself angling his hips just a little differently, and only a moment later, he knows he’s got it when your teary eyes shoot open and you scream his name.

“right there, angel? my fiancée likes it t-there?” he teases, trying his hardest to keep some composure but fuck, it’s so hard when you clench that tight cunt of yours and suck him deeper and deeper.

“yeeessss,” you sob, “please! feels..so good…love you so much, love the way you fuck me..” satoru moans with you, snaking a hand under your lower back to arch you a little more, and the slight change of position has him hitting your g-spot head on with his merciless thrusts. you cum, wordlessly and unexpectedly, and satoru’s eyes widen as he looks down to see the ring of your cream that covers the base of his cock.

“ohhhh f-fuck yeah, angel, cream all over my dick, ‘s all yours, always- always yours,” he gasps.

he brings you fully into his lap and your arms instinctively curl around his neck, your head falling back as he bounces you on his cock that’s impaling you. you’re both covered in sweat now, and your slick, too—it leaks down around satoru’s dick and onto your thighs. the eye contact he makes with you in this moment is hard to look away from, so you don’t—eyes locked with his while you pant and moan and whimper his name. he does the same right back to you, choking out declarations of his love interspersed with your own name.

soon, the position changes again, when you use the little strength you have left to push satoru onto his back with your hands splayed out on his chest. he groans in surprise, sliding his hands up your hips to hold onto your waist. your gaze shifts between his blissed-out face and the sparkling stone that rests on your finger, grinding against him nice and slow.

“does this feel good, satoru?” you don’t mean for the question to come out as seductive as your tone does, but it has his hips bucking up into you nonetheless. his eyes open to find yours and he nods, digging his fingers into your flesh more when you ride him harder, roll your hips a little faster.

“f-fuck, feels like heaven, baby..keep- mmf, keep fucking me like t-that,” he answers, and you’re his sweet girl, his giving little angel, so you do. you keep fucking him just like that, pulling yourself up and dropping back down on the lengthy cock inside of you. your ass smacks against his thighs on the landing, and it joins your ragged breathing and satoru’s huffs as the only sounds in the room. he can’t help but to meet your hips with his own thrusts, not keen on taking the reigns back but adding to the insurmountable pleasure you both feel.

“will you cum with me? please, ‘toru- need to feel you..” god, how could he ever deny you when you ask so sweetly, one hand still on his chest and the other on yours, palming at your tit with a pinch of your pert nipple every now and then. his brow is furrowed—plush lips parted with his moans and he’s nodding in response again.

“yeah, baby, yeah- ‘m so fucking- hah- c-close.” a look of focus forms in his eyes when one of his hands slips down from your waist, nimble fingers toying with your sensitive clit. your moans rise in pitch and volume, heart pounding in your chest as you get closer and closer to the edge. you can practically feel him pulsing inside of you, know he’s almost there too, and you ride with more determination, tits bouncing with the effort. he looks so desperate from his position beneath you, desperate to cum, desperate to fill you to the brim with his hot load. you’re left gasping, shouts of his name torn right from your throat when he plants his feet into the mattress and starts to thrust up into you, fingers still pinching and pulling at your engorged nub. he fucks into you so roughly, eyes shifting between the spot where you conjoin, watching raptly as his cock slides in and out of your hole, and your sweet face, mouth hung open and tear streaks on your cheeks. both are a pretty sight to him.

“‘m gonna cum, ‘toru- cum for me, too, need it inside me so fucking bad,” you whimper, and you weren’t lying. only a few more thrusts and some circles rubbed onto your clit and you’re crying his name, creaming all over his cock again. and satoru can’t hold off anymore, doesn’t want to, and the way you clench and squeeze him makes that an impossible feat anyway. he stills his hips the best he can but they still stutter with the intensity of his orgasm, letting out rope after rope after rope of his sticky fluid inside of your needy little hole.

you roll off of him when you get the strength to do it, still panting with the exertion. but satoru is clingy, even more so after sex; so with your eyes closed, you don’t see it, but rather feel the man’s hands tugging you close. he drapes his sweat-sticky body around yours, nuzzling his face into your neck where he leaves a few cheeky kisses.

“thank you.” it’s silent for a while before he speaks, and the words have you cracking your eyes open to look at him. he’s already beaten you to the punch, wide blue eyes looking up at you.

“for what?” you respond, bringing your hand up to smooth his hair down. he practically purrs at the sensation, but he answers you regardless.

“for saying yes to me, to forever.”

the snort that comes out of you is unintentional, but you can’t help it. he sounds silly thanking you for that, so you tell him as much.

“satoru, you make it sound like you had to bribe me into being with you when you say things like that. y’know, i meant what i said, about you being stuck with me. couldn’t get rid of me if you tried, baby. this just makes it..more official.”

“guess that’s true, huh?”

“you’re damn right. and when we get married, i’m going to use my new powers for evil.”

“what??”

“oh, yeah. i’m gonna terrorize everyone. pranks galore. and i’ll tell them gojo did it. and they’ll just assume it was mr. gojo, not the kind and sweet mrs. gojo.”

satoru’s jaw drops, sitting up to gape at you. you just shrug in response, smiling innocently at your soon to be husband. he shakes his head, deep in thought for a moment before he grins, eyes hard set on you.

“what?” you ask, playfully narrowing your own eyes.

“i think i want to marry you tomorrow.”

>authors_note: WELL. it’s finally here (took me long enough i knowwwww🤫) ENDLESS THANKS FOR 100 (we’re almost at 200 now but let’s cross that bridge when we get there heheh)

>next up: firefighter!satosugu (after like 3 months of me talking about it IM SORRYYY)

>thank you for reading ♡︎

>masterlist.exe

>send a request here!

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk gojo #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #satoru gojo x reader

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honeybeezgobzzzzz · 1 month

Text

⚡ Amour

Amour: You have a long-standing history with Harrison Wells… and his many doppelgängers. From Eobard Thawne to Harrison ‘Sherloque’ Wells, you’ve had your difficulties to contend with and with the latest arrival of Harrison Wells, you are decidedly against falling for another blue-eyed devil. When the entire multi-verse is destroyed by anti-matter, and the only Wells you have to be concerned about is the barely tolerable Harrison “Nash” Wells, you might just finally catch a break. Not.

Warnings: Explicit Language, Explicit material (Unprotected Sex is a No No), Angst.

To Note: Eobard Thawne (in Nash Wells) x Female!Reader, Amour: a secret or illicit love affair or lover.

Word Count: ~5.5k

“So maybe I should start making you a fireproof suit as well?” Cisco probed, looking at your smoldering body and sooty face. Your eye twitched and both Barry and Caitlin gave you a sympathetic look.

“Barry had to spray me with a fire extinguisher, Cisco, a fire extinguisher,” You hissed at him before pinching your dirty forehead. “I get Barry needs material that isn’t flammable or combustible, but isn’t it common sense to make my suit fire proof too?”

“In my defense your power is moving things with your mind, not running at high speeds causing combustible friction.” Cisco muttered weakly, reaching for his slurpee and taking a long drink. “But I’ll get to it. You look like you spent a few too many hours in a tanning bed, set to roast.”

“Thanks for that,” You responded with a frustrated sigh. “Cait, do we have anything else to do tonight?”

“Not that I’m aware of. I was just about to head home,” Caitlin responded before glancing at Cisco. “Cisco is on babysitting duty tomorrow and should go home to sleep before he has to take care of the terror twins.”

“I’ll consider that payback,” You huffed while Cisco slouched in his seat at the mention of his cousin’s children he had said he would babysit. Barry rubbed the back of his head before disappearing in a red flash for a few moments and returning in his civilian clothes.

“I’m gonna head home. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.” You waved goodbye before turning back to Caitlin.

“I’m going to close up shop and take a shower. You two can head home.”

“Are you sure?” Caitlin asked before her eyes glanced around. “Who knows where Nash is and I’d hate to leave everything to you.”

“Nash is doing whatever the hell Nash does,” You responded crisply, your lip curling at the mention of the wayward and unruly Wells that currently plagued the lab. It was widely known that the two of you didn’t get along. You respected each other and always kept your words polite, but you would never be caught in the same room voluntarily. “I don’t know and I don’t care, I just want a quiet night after nearly being cremated.”

Cisco and Caitlin both cringed at the thought.

“Yeah, I’ll definitely get a start on the fireproof suit,” Cisco mumbled as he stood up and shouldered his bag.

“I’ll bring in some doughnuts tomorrow,” Caitlin spoke up as she buttoned her coat. “You know you don’t have to sleep here… I have an extra bedroom.”

You waved her off.

“Trust me when I say you do not want me accidentally levitating your furniture while I am sleeping. It’s for the best.” Your nonchalant shrug didn’t seem to appease her. “I’ve been doing it for years, Cait. I’ll be fine. The lab is literally my home.”

With a few last goodbyes, Caitlin and Cisco departed from the lab, leaving you to your own devices for the night. You glanced down at your ruined jacket, which was hanging from your body in tattered black strands. This was definitely going into the trash. On your way to the wing of the lab that had been converted into your living quarters, you shrugged the charred remains of the dark blue jacket from your shoulders.

Tonight’s little outing involved a meta who liked to set things on fire. Barry could have taken care of him in a matter of seconds, but he was busy working on a building fire on the other side of the city. So you had been on your own for the first part of the fight, using objects to block the balls of fire he was hurling at you.

But then some pedestrian had started screaming, and the meta turned his focus to her. Long story short, he had thrown fire at her, and you didn’t have time to locate a non flammable object so you had used your body to shield her from the fire. You had lit up like a Christmas tree before Barry, who had finally run over to help, subdued the meta and found a fire extinguisher to spray you with.

So you were covered with fire retardant, soot, sweat, and burned clothing, and in serious need of a shower. Entering your makeshift bedroom, you tossed your ruined jacket into the bin before kicking off your shoes. At least those had survived tonight’s fight. You rather liked them. You stripped yourself down to your underwear and bra, chucking your charred clothes away.

Gathering a clean towel, you padded into the bathroom across the hall from your bedroom and started the shower to warm up the water. Setting the clean towel on the bathroom counter, you pulled your braid free from its tightly bound position.

“I swear I am going to have to wash my hair at least three times to get the smoke and soot out of it.” You grumbled to yourself as you looked at your ashen and sooty hair. With the water warmed up, you removed the rest of your smoke permeated clothing and stepped beneath the spray.

As predicted, you spent a good fifteen minutes washing your hair clean of ash and soot, and by then the spray of water had gotten most of the soot that clung to your skin off. Letting out a sigh, you leaned your head back and let the water pelt your face. There was nothing more relaxing than a good hot shower after a night to flinging objects around with your mind.

You had plenty of time to brood beneath the scorching water, mainly thinking about your life choices when it came to a man named Harrison Wells.

Let’s start with the first Harrison Wells, or better yet the murdering cockroach who took the real Harrison Wells’s place and then caused immeasurable damage to your heart. You had dated Harrison Wells for a few years and through the after affects of the particle accelerator explosion. His physical impairment hadn’t bothered you one bit.

Then you found out about the whole: I can walk, I’m not actually Harrison Wells, oh and by the way, I’m the meta you’ve been trying to hunt down. Talk about an eye opener in the way of “I’ve been sleeping with the enemy the whole time”. You had almost destroyed the cortex from your emotions getting the better of you.

Your friends had made a public service announcement: Don’t Make Y/N Sad, Mad, Irritable, and/or otherwise Flummoxed.

You had learned how to control your emotions better after that to avoid another potentially deadly incident. It was safer to feel nothing at all.

Enter Harrison “Harry” Wells from Earth-2. Gruff, snarky, scowled a lot, extremely focused on one thing. Get Jesse back. Naturally you were extremely hesitant, if not a little vehemently against getting to know him. That backfired, and you developed feelings again, only this time it was for an actual Harrison Wells.

Harry ultimately left to go back to Earth-2 where he belonged after Jesse was deemed safe, but not before replacing himself with another Wells. Bring in Harrison “HR” Wells, adorable, dimpled, funny, and man alive, did he make it impossible not to care. You had felt like you were on your way back to being healed. God, that man had been a miracle.

But HR died, and left you with yet another blow to the heart.

Now at this point you were pretty raw of emotion and felt very little. But fate, as it were, threw you yet another Wells to deal with. Harrison “Sherloque” Wells, a detective from Earth-221 with a charming personality, came into your life while you dealt with the Cicada problem. You really shouldn’t have been surprised that the man managed to get you to open up to him. He had a way with words. But you let him go because it would never have worked and Renee was waiting for him.

At this point in your life, love was hopeless and emotions were becoming pointless as all they ever did was hurt you further. Which brings you to Harrison “Nash” Wells, gruff, adventurous, and absolutely infuriating. You both held animosity towards each other but had decided that it was in your best interest to simply put up with each other and try to be civil. You avoided him. He avoided you.

It was difficult when you both lived in the lab, but you made it work. You were nearly emotionless and Nash was continually trying to redeem himself for what happened with his daughter on his earth. Morose showers for you and dark brooding for him.

Just as you scrubbed nonexistent dirt from your arm the lights flickered before turning off, and then a second later the back up red lights came on and an alarm started going off.

“You have got to be kidding,” You growled as you reached up and turned the shower off. Harshly yanking the towel from the countertop, you haphazardly wrapped it around your body and stomped out of the bathroom.

First things first was to turn the alarm off and get the lights back to normal, then you could troubleshoot why the lab had suddenly decided to glitch into emergency mode. Your bare feet left wet footprints as you headed the shortest way down the hall to one of the access computers. Coming to a stop in front of it, you tapped the screen, bringing it to life. Low-power mode flashed at you on the screen.

Swiping the notification away, you opened the lab’s main security and settings and pressed the button to turn the alarm off. Music to your ears. Letting out a relieved breath, you scrolled through the list of options until you reached the lights section. It only took a few more taps of your finger to get the lights to switch over to their normal setting.

Rubbing your damp forehead, you closed out the settings section and locked the screen. That was the second time the lab had had a weird glitch in the last two weeks, and this lab did not glitch. You were going to have to get Cisco to look more into this, but in the meantime…

“Nash!” You yelled out, taking a few steps back. Appearance be damned, you needed to know if Nash had been messing with one of his toys again, and inadvertently caused the glitch. If he was in the lab, he would hear your shouts. You only had to wait about ten seconds for the messy haired adventurer to appear.

Turning on your heel, you stared him down across the end of the hall. He blinked at you before looking you up and down. You sighed and pushed your wet hair back from your face.

“You got any ideas why the lab is acting up?” You questioned him. “Have you been playing around with an electromagnetic project again?”

“No,” He responded after a few moments, slowly starting to make his way over to you. “And even if I was, this building has electromagnetic shields in place, none of my projects put out enough energy to pass through the shields.”

“Well, that’s wonderful,” You sighed out in frustration, digging your fingers into your scalp. “More work to do around here. As if I don’t have enough to do already.”

He was only about a few paces from you now, his eyes lingering over your bare skin. You shifted your weight from one foot to the other while narrowing your eyes.

“Dream on, Wells,” You snipped at him underneath your breath before taking a deep breath and voicing your concern. “I need to know if the pipeline containment system is still stable.”

“The pipeline will be fine,” Nash answered shortly before his mouth twitched as if he was enjoying something.

“Great, and since I have you over here, you can put the filter in the bathroom back into place. It fell out… again.” You told him before turning around and walking back towards the bathroom. It was one of the few perks of having him around you could come up with. He could reach the filter in the bathroom that made sure that none of the electronics in the lab came into contact with moisture from the shower. You couldn’t reach it, but he could.

Walking back to the bathroom, you heard Nash follow and upon entering the bathroom, you leaned against the wall and watched as he easily reached up and clicked the filter back into place.

“Thank you, now get out.” Rather than his usual scoff, scowl, and prompt exit, Nash turned on his heel and set predatory eyes on you. Your internal alarms started going off. Something wasn’t right, but you didn’t know what. Then his head started tilting to the side, and his face morphed into one that sent shivers up your spine.

You knew that look, and it scared you.

Your hand flicked out, and you were immediately sending the soap bottle at his head, followed by the heavy metal plate that held a few bottles of lotion and creams. Eobard easily ducked out of the way and lunged forwards. Scrambling out of his reach, the metal fixtures in the bathroom started rattling as you pulled on every hard and sharp object you could see to send at his head.

You didn’t know how Eobard had managed to get into Nash, but you needed to figure out what the hell you were going to do.

Seeing as your smaller projectiles weren’t doing much damage to him, you went for something more substantial. You threw him. Sending Eobard crashing back into the bathroom countertop, you made a run for the bathroom door. Hands snagged you around your towel covered waist and yanked you back into a hard chest. You’re let out a screech of outrage and separated your bodies with your mind. Holding your arm out to keep Eobard back with your powers, you leaped for the door.

“I don’t think so, Queenie,” Eobard muttered before something cold was snapping around your outstretched wrist. Immediately you felt the pull of your powers disappear and whipping your head back, you saw a meta cuff dangling from your wrist and the very smug face of Nash.

“I can still throw a punch!” You hissed, bringing your other hand back and throttling it to his face. Eobard ducked to the side and grabbed your wrist, wrapping his fingers around it before yanking your arm across his body. He jerked you forward and your immediate reaction was to take a great big swing at him between the legs.

He might not have his speed while being in Nash’s body, but his reactions were still faster than yours. Eobard angled his leg so your kick was rendered useless. You tried to swing at him with your meta cuffed arm, but he swerved out of the way of that throw too. Next option, use his larger body against him.

You slammed your entire body weight into him, knocking him back towards the shower. Eobard grunted as you elbowed him in the stomach, and in return, you left out a small yelp when your towel slid.

No. You would not allow a towel to be the reason you didn’t kick Eobard Thawne’s ass.

Yanking yourself in his grip, you viciously stomped on his foot and twisted. It seemed that despite your self-defense training you could not beat out Eobard, and he seemed to quickly grow tired of your struggles. While you were still thrashing in his hold, you found yourself swung around and shoved up against the side of the shower. Squawking out as your towel slipped down, you watched in horror as the second meta cuff looped through a metal handrail and your free wrist was trapped with the remaining cuff.

“No, no, no, no, NO!” You gasped out as you harshly yanked on your wrists, ignoring the cutting pain the metal caused when it dug into your skin. Towel and nakedness promptly forgotten, your panic became all too clear as you fruitlessly and helplessly yanked on your locked wrists.

His body pressed up against yours and arms wrapped around your waist, holding you so you wouldn’t writhe and wriggle around. You felt his lips brush against your neck.

“Calm down,” He murmured softly in your ear, slowly brushing his fingers across your stomach. Your teeth sank down into your lip from his touch and despite how much you wished to buck him off and obliterate his face, you forced yourself to calm down. “That’s it.”

“Go to hell,” You hissed back.

“Still a spitfire, Y/N,” Eobard chuckled, breathing heavy from your struggles. Your own pants were joined with the rapid racing of your heart. You slumped in his hold and shot a scathing look over your shoulder. “Oh, don’t give me that look.”

“I have every right to give you this look. You are lucky I’m not trying to take your head off!” You snapped at him. “The only reason I didn’t snap your neck is because you are somehow in Nash’s body!”

“Yes, I’m quite curious why you didn’t go in for the kill the moment you realized I’m not Nash given your hatred for him.”

“I don’t hate Nash,” You muttered, your eyes burning with fury. “I don’t like him because he reminds me of everything I’ve lost and most of all, you.”

Something flickered in his eyes and he was soon reaching out to slowly push a clump of damp hair that had fallen over your shoulder, behind your ear.

“And stop touching me,” You added venomously, trying to jerk away from his touch. “I’ve already had to deal with enough Wells wrecking my life. I don’t need you messing it up further when I’ve finally gotten things settled.”

“I’m not here to cause you any more distress, Queenie.”

“Then why are you here?” You hissed as your cheek was pressed against cool shower tile.

“That… is an excellent question.” Eobard spoke out before you felt his forehead press against your back. The man himself couldn’t even answer that question, which only grew your confusion. Why was he here, and what did he want? Eobard drew his hand over the curve of your hip, his fingertips stroking your skin like it was the finest silk. “I think… I’ve missed you.”

“You do not get to come in here and say that, not after all these years.” Your voice was now quiet and strained, maybe even choked. Anguish was stabbing at your heart like a knife and you knew whatever he had to say would probably be cruel and hit you like bullets, adding to your already disparaged state. Miserable and alone.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, for every slice of hurt that has ripped at your heart, for every moment I stole from you when you could have been happily living with someone else. I was selfish and only focusing on what I wanted. I never wanted to hurt you—”

“Well, you did,” You cut in viciously. Eobard sighed before lifting his head and placing a kiss on your shoulder blade. He was slow with his movement, pressing his lips firmly against your skin and inhaling the scent of coconut from the shower gel you had used to rid your skin of smoke. He moved up an inch and repeated the slow and agonizingly pleasurable kiss. The meta cuffs jangled as your fingers curled into tight fists and you sank your teeth into your lower lip.

The rough material of Nash’s shirt pressed into your skin as he pushed his body further against yours. With every gentle touch and brush of fingers, you could feel your body getting laxer. How traitorous was your body being at this moment? In essence, very.

“You were never a joke or distraction,” Eobard murmured against your shoulder, now moving his hand up your stomach. His fingertips brushed the curve of your breast and through that electric touch you felt him draw a line with a finger. “You were never a toy or a companion,”

Your stomach muscles clenched as the scruffy jaw of Nash scraped against your neck and lips started nibbling on your neck. Your breathing was heavier now and even had a hint of tremble to it from work-roughened hands caressing your body. You let out a shuddering breath that betrayed what you were currently feeling. Eobard was no fool and he would know that you were still just as reactive to his touch as you had been when you were dating.

“You were mine.” Those three whispered words sent a bolt of electricity straight through your body and caused you to let out an incredibly soft whimper you could not control. “And that was all I truly wanted.”

You found it difficult to breathe with all the intense emotions that came welling up, bursting from your shriveled and damaged heart.

“Stop it,” You breathed out as torrents of hurt, combined with longing and suffering, overwhelmed your damaged being. You teeth clenched together as hot tears welled behind your tired eyes. “Please just stop it, I can’t do this again.”

You were practically begging now, an all-time low for you, but you were too hurt and defeated to care. Your body fully slumped into an awkward half kneeling position on the icy floor. Did everyone take pleasure in yanking your heart around on a leash? Or was it just a Wells/Thawne thing?

“No.” Eobard’s simple one-word answer was deafening, and cut through your body like an ending stroke. Your eyelids closed and released more tears that had been clinging to your eyelashes. The hot droplet raced down your skin before dripping from your chin. But before the little drop could fall to the floor, a finger caught it and brushed away from your jaw. “We need to address this. Who did you fall in love with, Y/N?”

That was the million dollar question now, wasn’t it?

Your lips trembled as you pressed them together. Who had you truly fallen in love with? One name came to mind, and it was not the one you were expecting. While you were mulling over that name in your head, Eobard brushed his thumb across your damp cheek ever so gently, lovingly caressing your skin, and prepared to catch any more tears that might streak down from your lashes.

You opened your eyes, honesty reflecting in both your eyes and heart.

“Eobard Thawne.” His name came from your mouth in a dead whisper, like the very action of uttering his name would bring down the world. You waited for a reaction, some sort of retaliation like laughter, a smirk, or even a snort. He never once mocked you or laughed, instead choosing to press his lips against the side of your head while fully embracing your body to his.

“I fell in love with Eobard Thawne.” You spoke again, your voice stronger this time, as you opened your eyes and stared at your trapped wrists. “And I don’t know what to do with myself because of it.”

“Who said you had to do something?”

“You are joking, right? I’ve spent the last three years surrounded by Wells’ that didn’t stick around or keep their promises. Can you please just leave so I can get back to my pathetic life now that you’ve made me admit my darkest secret?”

“You aren’t getting it, Y/N,” Eobard said, yanking your towel completely from your body and pressing his body flush against your naked one. You stiffened when he settled a hand on your stomach and the other above your right breast. “I don’t intend to let you go ever again.”

“And what about Nash? It’s his body!”

“I asked, and he said yes,”

“Do you always have a comeback?”

“Usually, I enjoy being ten steps ahead.” Your head twisted around while a scowl bloomed on your face.

“And to think I nearly forgot how insufferable you sometimes—“ He was leaning down and cutting you off with his lips before you could finish huffing out your berate. Silenced by lips. He always knew how to shut you up. It had worked then, and it certainly worked now. He could make blood rush to your face like none other. You had always been an open book to him, and he could read you like he had memorized your pages. Just like how he knew to twist your tongue with his so you couldn’t think, bit at your lips until you were whining. Eobard knew you better than yourself. You were getting an uncomfortable crick in your neck from twisting your head like this, and it became apparent when your neck muscles twinged and you pulled back with a wince.

“Are you going to behave?” Eobard questioned while dragging his fingers across your body. You sent him a scathing look over your shoulder.

“You’re the one that got me worked up. If you don’t finish, then I’ll misbehave.” You snapped over your shoulder, making a point to tug on your captured wrists.

“Just for that attitude I won’t give you the satisfaction of going slow.”

“Not like you have much of a choice. You are in Nash’s body,” you retorted back, reminding him of the ever present obvious. He lacked his speed.

He only released one of your wrists from the meta cuffs as he yanked you up and shoved your body up against cold tile. You splayed your hands out on the icy surface with a small grunt, not particularly appreciating the manhandling, but far too distracted by the electricity that was now running across your skin just from his touch.

You growled underneath your breath at the smile that tugged at the edges of his stupidly hot mouth. Shooting a scathing look over your shoulder, you were soon letting out a gasp when one hand descended on your breast and the other floated down to wiggle itself between your legs. Arching into his touch, your head dropped back while breathing heavily in anticipation. You didn’t have to wait long. When Eobard said he won’t go slow, he wouldn’t, and not having his speed made no difference.

Eobard only let his hands have their pleasure for a few seconds. He, after all, was a calculating man who knew patience often won out. He knew he would have other chances to torture you with slow, methodical touches. But right now, you were fairly sure that all the two of you wanted to do was to fuck all of your frustrations out of your bodies so you could have a non-sexually charged conversation about what to call your relationship.

With quick and smooth actions, you could Eobard stripping himself of Nash’s clothes. Leaning your forehead against the slightly wet tile, you took a few deep breaths as slowly, inch by inch, Eobard started pressing naked skin against yours. So close. So hot. So perfect. He was exactly what you wanted. Exactly what you needed.

“You sound so needy,” He breathed in your ear while giving you just a hint of his controlling personality by thrusting his pelvis against your backside. “Did you allow anyone else to touch you, Queenie?”

“Stop being a teasing bastard and just fuck me already!” You howled at him. He sharply yanked your body to his, holding you there as he brushed his lips against your ear.

“Answer the question.” He demanded.

“No one!” You cried out, your body trembling with intense need and jacked up on adrenaline. “I haven’t been with anyone since you!”

“Not even the other Harrisons?” Eobard probed. Your scowl was back on your face, along with impatientness.

“What do they have to do with this?” You hissed out, your nails curling to sharp points.

“Answer the question!” Eobard was more forceful with his demand this time, snaking one hand around your waist and up your chest to grab your neck. “Did you let the Harrison Wellses touch you?”

Letting out a heavy gasp at his hold on your neck, you shook your head in urgent response.

“Use your words, Queenie,”

“No! No one has touched you but me, okay!”

“And it stays that way.” You didn’t have a chance to question why he was suddenly being so possessive when you hadn’t been in a relationship in years. Eobard was kicking out one of your legs and slipping right into your quivering body. You shuddered in place, and while lips descended on your neck to attack your skin and set deep possessive marks, Eobard set a rough pace that sated both of your hungry desires.

Fingers were gripping your neck, occasionally applying just enough pressure to briefly make breathing difficult. A hand was holding your hip in a slightly painful grip that only increased the pleasure that was picking away at your mind. Teeth were grazing your neck. You were nearly overwhelmed and lost in euphoria that made your head swim and your knees weak.

The meta cuff still locked around your wrist jingled as you dragged your fingers down the tiled wall with a whimper. You were so hot now, dizzy, and with your heart beating as fast as it was, your brain was threatening to shut down. Letting out a throaty moan, you pushed back against the repeated action that nearly pinned you to the wall.

That earned you a delicious grunt from Eobard. He released the spot on your neck which he had been tugging on and tightened his grip on your neck a little more. You started gasping for air.

“I never knew you liked it so rough, Nadia.” Your strained gasp that came next only had him chuckling further against your ear. Eobard pushed your head back to run his lips along your jaw. “You need to accept that I am the only one who will make you feel this way.”

He slammed into you so his cock brushed up against a certain spot in your body that had your entire body jerking from an erotic zap of pleasure that ran from your toes all the way to your fingers.

“Who will fill you just right,” He did it again, and you started scratching at the hand around your neck, your lungs burning from the lack of oxygen. “Who can draw these delicious sounds from your throat?”

Your nails dug into his wrist, futility trying to pry it from your throat. Eobard’s neck thrust nearly sent you over the edge, causing a burning fire to flood your veins until you were squirming against Nash’s hard body. With your nails raking hard tile and tanned flesh, your eyelids started to flutter, and your lips parted in a soundless whimper. Just as little specks of light glittered at the edge of your vision, Eobard made one last territorial demand.

“I am the only one allowed to make you feel this.” He released your neck, allowing oxygen to flood back into your airway just as the crippling fire reached its peak performance and set off a chain reaction that left your legs boneless and fingers twitching. Legs folding beneath your body, muscular arms held you up as heat and wetness ran down your inner thighs.

While you were wheezing and dangling in a haze of delirium, Eobard held your body close to his as he growled his own pleasure. Heat which has been leaving, suddenly flooded your body again. You twitched once more, rasping out a puff of air as lips buried into your neck.

In your semi state of shock, you were vaguely aware of Eobard swinging your body up into his arms and moving throughout the labs. It was only when you were dressed in underwear and one of your oversized shirts you had stolen from Eobard when he was pretending to be Dr. Wells that you were fully cognizant of your surroundings.

You were laying down on your bed in your makeshift bedroom with blankets partially covering your aching body. Blinking, you shifted your hurting body while groping for your phone. Your fingers found it and looking at the screen, you saw it was just after one in the morning. You let out a groan and flopped back against by bedsheets. So much for getting out frustrations and then having a proper conversation.

“We were supposed to talk about this,” you mumbled quietly, your throat feeling a little raw.

“No, you wanted to talk about this,” Eobard, who had been doing what he did best, lurk, said as he emerged from the shadows in fresh clothes. “I made myself perfectly clear, you don’t seem to grasp the fact that you are mine.”

“They aren’t going to like this.” He gave you that Wells smirk that had always got you hot and bothered along with a half-hearted shrug.

“Who says they have to know?”

Date Published: 8/5/21

Last Edit: 8/5/21

Eobard Thawne Masterlist

The Flash Masterlist

#eobard thawne x y/n #eobard thawne x reader #eobard thawne #the flash x reader #the flash

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wiw3 · 1 year

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Four New Holes in my Face

Good early, early morning to all of you! This probably takes the cake as my earliest entry, but hey, I need it, and I can’t tell if I’m high or not, so it’s the perfect time to sit down to write something, before the sun has even risen.

So I went to get me wisdom teeth removed yesterday. They had long roots, and were really fascinating to see on an X-ray. I would’ve liked to have stuck around and actually seen the teeth, themselves, if they’d been washed. Apparently, I was a bleeder.

So I kept gauze in for the first several hours after surgery, and replaced it every 30 minutes like a good boy, taking care of my mouth the way the dentists told me to. I was prescribed a handful of different fun little pills that are mostly going to be saved until my post-op, as a reward.

You know, like a junkie.

It just seems like my only opportunity to try Oxy in a safe, and comfortable environment, so I’m taking myself up on it. I don’t have enough to nurture an addiction to opiates, and even if I did, my friends can’t get their hands on it. This is just a little classical drug experimentation.

That’s besides the point, though. They’re special-occasion only, and I’m sharing with my roommate, so I’m not a total monster, at the end of the day, just a drug guy.

I woke up about thirty minutes ago because due to my detoxing off pot for the sake of this surgery, I’ve gotten so much of my hyperactivity back, my energy back, needless to say, I got my mojo back.

I don’t feel nearly as charming off of pot as on it, I can definitely speak, orate, gyrate, and medicate better with it, than without it.

Everyone has something, whether it’s a hobby, gambling, drugs, alcohol, cigarettes, TV, sex, rock & roll, or just a good ol’ fashioned Bible, we all need to distract ourselves from being alive just long enough for it to be over.

Do we really, though? Must we really contend with this reality? Consume and distract ourselves perpetually until a single slip from the banana-peel of mortality cleans us off of the surface of the Earth?

Maybe, it’s hard to say. I’m just a kid who is happy to have the teeth out of my face, with an unforgivingly-complicated post-op instructional paper.

They gave me that look when I told them I drank a bottle of water to calm my nerves before surgery, along with a little cranberry juice. Apparently, you’re supposed to fast for at least 8 hours before surgery, including water. They made a note of it, though, and still went through with the surgery, even after I updated my medical records to reflect that I consumed an average of a 1/16th of an ounce of weed every day for the last three or so months.

I’ve learned from watching House M.D. that you never lie to the medical professionals in charge of taking care of you, and if you can get within fistbumping-levels of friendliness with your anesthesiologist, they’ll give you the good shit and not kill you. I was hooked up to oxygen for a good and long time before I was put under, telling my doctors stories and listening to theirs.

Maybe my honesty was fueled by the fact that I could’ve died if I lied. The low blood pressure spike that can come without eating solid food or smoking weed in the same regularity that I had, could’ve caused a heart attack, but I’m fine, because I was honest. I told them about the weed, and they accounted for it.

That’s the best part about the United States’ abysmal healthcare system:

They don’t care if you do it anymore, they just want you to be safe.

#writing #blog post #kind of a drug guy #drugs #drugs and society #society #written word #sorry for the rant #dental #dentist #dentists #dentistry #wisdom teeth #wisdom tooth #wisdom tooth removal #wisdom tooth extraction

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capseycartwright · 3 years

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“Okay hear me out… What if we have sex?” for buddie please!

send me a prompt from this list

“Okay hear me out… What if we have sex?”

And okay, Eddie’s completely baffled look was probably justified, but Buck actually had a sound logic to back up his suggestion - really, he did. Shifting so he was lying on his side, looking intently at Eddie, Buck spoke again, the space between them in Buck’s double bed feeling positively cavernous as he scrambled to explain himself.

“You’re my best friend,” Buck said simply, gesturing vaguely around his loft apartment - an apartment they shared with Hen, and Chimney, most of the time, their friends working an opposite shift that day, giving Buck and Eddie some time to breathe before the loft was packed to the rafters again. “And in case you hadn’t noticed, we’re living through an actual plague right now.”

Eddie still looked suitably confused, nestled under Buck’s navy duvet. Buck hadn’t realised how much Eddie craved comfort, and cosiness, until he’d arrived at Buck’s door with a suitcase in hand and his eyes red raw from crying the whole way from abuela’s to Buck’s, not sure when he’d see Christopher next. “And that led you to propose we have sex how, exactly?”

“Because we’re best friends, and neither of us have exactly been getting any, lately - and even if we wanted to, there’s the whole global pandemic to contend with,” Buck continued in a rush, doubting himself now. Had he read the situation all wrong? No - no, surely he couldn’t have. He and Eddie had always been comfortable with each other, and sharing an apartment, a bed, during lockdown had only served to break down every last boundary left between them. Buck wasn’t even slightly concerned when Eddie barged into the bathroom looking for his toothbrush when Buck was in the shower, anymore - sex wasn't an outrageous jump. “So, who better to have sex with than each other?”

Eddie’s nose scrunched up adorably. “Buck,” he said, voice soft. “You know I can’t do meaningless sex.”

And Buck knew that - of course he did. Right back when lockdown first began, and quarantine hit, and they had nothing to do except lie in bed at night and talk, he and Eddie had plenty of conversations about life, and love - and their sexualities. They’d talked about how Buck had always felt like the bisexual label fit him perfectly, and they’d talked about how Eddie had never really found a label that suited him, because he didn’t necessarily look at an attractive person and want to hook up with them - not in the same was as Buck did - and how he needed there to be an emotional connection, first, and Buck had done some Googling and proudly presented his best friend with the definition of demi-sexuality and Eddie had finally found a label that fit.

The point was -

Buck knew Eddie didn’t do meaningless sex.

“That’s the beauty of it being between us, Eddie - it wouldn’t be meaningless, because you’re my best friend,” Buck nudged. “You’re probably the healthiest emotional connection I have, actually.”

Eddie was quiet, for a second. “I’ve never been with a guy before,” he admitted, clearly considering Buck’s proposal a bit more seriously than Buck had expected him to, given how doubtful he’d seemed a few minutes previously.

“The mechanics aren’t actually all that different,” Buck said, thinking of the practicalities of it all. People made a fuss about nothing, if you asked him - a body was a body and everybody looked and felt and reacted differently, regardless of gender. “And maybe I can finally teach you something, Diaz.”

“Don’t call me Diaz,” Eddie rolled his eyes, poking Buck’s side, making him squirm. “It wouldn’t - it wouldn’t make things weird between us, right?”

Buck shook his head, shuffling closer to Eddie - close enough that he could hear the steady rise and fall of Eddie’s breathing, feel each puff of breath against his cheeks. “No, never,” he said, firmly - fiercely. “Nothing will ever change the fact you’re my best friend, Eddie. I love you - like honestly an embarrassing amount. You’re my favourite person.”

“Don’t tell Christopher that,” Eddie teased, quiet again for a minute or two. “So we’re just going to platonically have sex because we’re both horny and living through a plague?” he questioned, raising an eyebrow, and sure, okay, when you phrased it like that, it seemed a bit ridiculous, but the stay-at-home order was mind-numbing, and lockdown was boring, and Buck liked sex, okay, and he missed sex - and whatever unhealthy relationship he had with it in the past wasn’t the point, not anymore, not when Buck was craving the intimacy of sex, the famiiarity of the way iot felt to have someone elses body move against yours.

(The problem had never been the sex, really - it had been what Buck was using sex to try and ignore.)

“That’s about it, yeah,” Buck confirmed. “The best sex - in my experience - is with the people you’re already able to communicate with. You know? The people you can talk to, and be honest with about what you want, and don’t want - the people you’re not trying to impress.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “You’re not going to try and impress me?”

And listen - Buck 2.0 was a different man to the one he’d been when he first started at the 118, sure, but if there was anything he was still spectacularly good at, it was sex. Easily, Buck maneuvered them so he was stradling Eddie’s hips, enjoying the way Eddie’s eyes widened in shock as Buck easily pinned his wrists either side of his head.

“Oh, I’ll be trying to impress you alright,” Buck said smoothly, getting close enough to kiss Eddie, but not quite committing to the embrace yet, giving Eddie a chance to bow out and they could forget the entire conversation.

Instead, Eddie angled his chin slightly, body slack and pliable in Buck’s grip. “What are you waiting for, then?”

And fuck, if that wasn’t a clear invitation to kiss Eddie, Buck wasn’t sure what it was.

(The somersault Buck’s stomach did when he finally kissed Eddie felt like a revelation - a very ill-timed revelation, considering Eddie’s tongue was halfway down Buck’s throat when Buck realised he didn’t want to have sex with Eddie to help a friend out. Oh, no - no, Buck was fucking in love with his best friend.

Shit. Fuck.

This was going to end up being weird, wasn’t it?)

#911 fox #evan buckley #eddie diaz #in which i ramble #in which lorna writes fic #i know this is ridiculous as a concept but enjoy

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keyofjetwolf · 2 years

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For Love Of A Felt Angel

You know, I’ve been good and pissed at Holligay more than once in our years. While it’s true that I’ve never suspected her of spying on me for a shady corporation of dubious genetic interest, and it’s also true that I never had revenge sex with her wife in a Volvo, still, I feel that even at my angriest, if I saw her being strangled to death by a garbage disposal, I’d, you know. HELP HER.

There’s an alternative, though. The path of NOT helping, where your best friend slowly dies while you stand there and watch, definitively choosing not to reach out and flick the power switch a couple feet away that would save her. This is the path chosen by Alison, our high-strung Earbud Suburbia, and I am FASCINATED.

I didn’t see it coming. I would have lost every cent I theoretically placed on that bet. Coercion, yes. Some meaningless confession extracted under torture and duress, sure. But Suburbia clearly didn’t want any of that, didn’t even TRY for it. The moment her hand hesitated over the switch, everything was set. There was no way out for Aynsley, but Suburbia had plenty and chose to ignore every single one of them. This was a choice began in the heated passion of the moment, but with ample opportunity to course correct before things went too far. Even when we’d passed that point, the episode makes sure that we know Suburbia still very much has her wits about her, going back to the door, wiping the knob of her fingerprints, and closing the garage door behind her.

There’s no wiggle room in this: Alison may not have actively murdered Aynsley, but she is 1000% culpable for her death.

All of which, as I said, fascinates the shit out of me. This same outcome as the result of an interrogation gone awry, absolutely could see happening. But why this LIKE this? I don’t know that I’ve hit on a precise answer I’m completely satisfied with, but let’s noodle a bit, shall we?

Actually, before we noodle on that, a moment to noodle on this: ALISON WATCHED HER BEST FRIEND DIE IN A SLOW AND HORRIFIC MANNER AND WAS FINE WITH IT. She was more offended at Aynsley insulting her handmade felt angel.

(Sidebar: if the felt angel was indeed the tipping point, I’m laughing for a week.)

Their relationship was over, sure, and messily so, but STILL. That takes something I’m not sure I possess, to slam the bulkheads down like that on feelings you felt not so long ago. I suspect we’re nowhere near the limits of where Suburbia can go, and my experience with the show so far tells me the lack of those limits won’t come without consequences. That my Patreon is having to end and we won’t be able to watch this unfold together is one of my greatest regrets. BUT ANYWAY.

So we know Aynsley’s death wasn’t accidental (functionally), and that it wasn’t the purchase price for information or some other security. I’ve come around to the idea that it wasn’t for Suburbia at all. A strong contender when I first started thinking on it was that she needed to KNOW Aynsley wasn’t still out there, watching her. There’s no way this is going to bring her more peace, though, it’s just another thing to be super fucking paranoid about, besides the fact that the baddies can just put a new watcher there in Aynsley’s place. Which they could, of course, do anyway, no matter what they claim is happening and what their contracts and agreements supposedly bind them to. I’m not super familiar with contract law in general – even less so in Canada – but my gut says it’ll be a little difficult to bring the shadowy organization that’s cloned you to court.

There’s really no way Suburbia can stop the bad guys, at least not at this point in the story, but getting them out of her life is also the only thing she really wants. They have all the power here, all the control, and the best she can get from them is their PROMISE and signature on a worthless piece of paper. That’s what’s eating away at her. Going from there, then, I’ve narrowed down what I think is the most likely reasoning (however subconscious) behind Suburbia’s actions, or at least the ones that for the moment make the most sense to me.

Aynsley is a message. I can’t stop you, but CAN stop HER.

And the twisted brilliance of this is that as a message, it works independent of if Aynsley was ACTUALLY Alison’s watcher or not. Suburbia thought Aynsley was, and EVEN IF they were once best friends, she still let Aynsley die before her eyes. It’s absolutely fucked up, and how do you reason with Absolutely Fucked Up?

So send someone else if you want. Leave the one you already have, go ahead. But Suburbia’s not fucking playing, and when that’s the scale by which you’re measuring, it’s tough to think of a way to be more clear and succinct.

Cosmic, you can entice. Prime, you can threaten. Suburbia? THE FUCK DO YOU DO WITH SUBURBIA. Bitch strangled someone to death with a scarf in a garbage disposal, I have absolutely no idea where you go from there.

Your move, ~*~NEOLUTION~*~.

#jet wolf watches orphan black #orphan black ep 10 #yay i got something done today!#and i've managed to remain conscious for many hours in a row #success is mine

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crhinge · 3 years

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Breaking Down The Classic Rom-Com

I feel like I haven’t written a fun post in a hot sec so lets talk about one of my favorite subjects: Rom Coms

According to wikipedia, a Rom Com, also known as Romantic Comedy, is “a subgenre of comedy and slice-of-life fiction, focusing on lighthearted, humorous plot lines centered on romantic ideas, such as how true love is able to surmount most obstacles.” In the past, Romantic Comedies have also been called “Chick Flicks” but I think this is devaluing of both women and the romantic comedy genre.

The other day, I woke up to find that the most wholesome rom-com couple of all time reunited: Matty & Jenna (Aka Mark Ruffalo & Jennifer Garner). This got me thinking about the beauty of the Rom-Com and how unappreciated they can be. It has been years since we have seen a rom-com with the cultural impact of 13 Going on 30, and I would like to petition for more of them after a sad and painful year.

I can already hear the millions (in my head this blog is extremely popular) of comments “What about To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before?!?” “What about The Kissing Booth?!?” And too that I say, "Good Riddance!” If you’re rating your rom coms on a TATBILB scale, or even WORSE The Kissing booth, I feel sorry for you. Truly I do. So let's dive into the best Rom Coms of all time, but first...

What makes a Rom-Com good? Well let's start with a relatable as hell main character. I am talking a girl (sometimes guy), who has many flaws, but the audience can see themselves within her/him. Let's use Jenna Rink from 13 Going On 30 as an example. Well, she's literally a 13 year old in a 30 year olds body, but don’t we all still have a preteen hiding inside of all of us? She is 100% willing to be herself at every step, even if that means dancing thriller all alone. She touches on all of our insecurities, while teaching us how to break down our walls.

Rom-Coms also need characters to make realistic choices. This does not mean that the movie itself is realistic, but rather than you can understand the choices the characters make. Again, 13 going on 30 does a fabulous job of this. Obviously, Jenna traveling in time because of wishing powder is not realistic, but the choices that her and her past self make are. Due to the insecurities of her childhood and a need to feel included, relevant, and powerful Jenna pushes important people out of her life, which happens to so many people in the real world. These decisions force her to miss out on the love of her life, and ultimately, the story ends sadly: the love of her life marries someone else and she is left with tears, wishing powder, and an old doll house. That is until she is able to travel back in time and change the course of her life.

Lastly, Every classic Rom-Com couple needs to have chemistry. There. I said it. Hollywood loves just casting random famous actors without giving them a proper chemistry read. One great example of this is Julianne Hough and Josh Duhamel in Safe Haven. Both fun, famous, Hollywood actors who have zero chemistry. Mark Ruffalo and Jennifer Garner had more chemistry throwing back Razzles than those two did during an intimate sex scene.

Alright, now that we have broken down the requirements of a Romantic Comedy, let's jump into the best and worst of all time.

Best: When Harry Met Sally. 9/10. A classic. A tale as old as time. Both Sally & Harry are very flawed, yet relatable characters. Sally is too picky and particular, while Harry is a player. They both suck at relationships, but make rational decisions based on their motivations. We all have friends like these two and their chemistry is on point, both on a friendship and romantic level. They bounce off of one another splendidly.

Worst: Sleepless in Seattle. 1/10 I know, this is a strong take, but this is a terrible movie about a stalker. Meg Ryan (I don’t even remember her character's name) is the stupidest most unrelatable character I have seen in a long time. She is extremely unlovable, cheats on her SO emotionally, and flies across the country to stalk a man that she has never met before. And then you’re telling me that Tom hanks FALLS FOR HER? Nope. No. I refuse to except this. Plus, their chemistry in this is pretty mediocre (You’ve Got Mail is Way Better) and we only get to see them together once.

Best: 10 Things I Hate About You. 8/10. I was tempted to leave all high School Rom-Coms off this list, but Heath Ledger is my exception. Talk about likability. Kat is a strong, powerful, independent woman who learns how to be more vulnerable while still being a feminist badass. We all wanted to be Kat growing up. Meanwhile Heath Ledger is the classic bad boy with a soft side, and who wasn’’t into that? Both characters grow into new people throughout the movie making them relatable, complex, and realistic. Not to mention the angel that is Joseph Gordon Levitt, who keeps the audience up beat and smiling throughout the course of this Shakespeare tale

Best: My Big fat Greek Wedding. 10/10. Have you seen this film recently? Because it is an absolute DELIGHT and so relatable. It dives into the difficulty of family expectation and cultures merging. It also has the cutest proposal of all time with a realistic couple that fights for one another on a daily basis. You laugh. You cry. You get a dynamic cast with wonderful chemistry. You feel invested in the family and the relationship. Just a joyful wonderful film.

Worst: Something Borrowed. 0/10. If you’ve never seen this movie, don’t. Ginnifer Goodwin sleeps with her best friends fiancé and we’re supposed to be okay with it because she liked him first. Hard pass. And she ignores John Krazinski who is right in front of her. She is unlikable, unreliable, and makes dumb decisions that no one else would.

Best: He’s just not that into you. 9/10 I will go to bat for this movie. It follows several realistic storylines in a Love Actually manor, except they actual seem legit. A woman realizing her boyfriend is never going to marry her. A girl facing the fact that maybe some guys just aren’t that into her, and she isn’t an exception to the rule. A man slowly making the decision to cheat on his wife as they are growing apart. A woman realizing that she is worth way more than her bastard husband. A woman realizing that the person she’s sleeping with will never leave his wife for her. It's compelling, has realistic characters that we can relate to, and still warms your heart in the end.

Best: The Big Sick. 8/10. Okay to be fair, this is based on a true story so it automatically has realistic characters and decisions. Maybe I should leave this off of the list, but I wish this film got the recognition it deserves. Two lovable main characters who make mistakes that are understandable. Wonderful chemistry between Kumail and his girlfriend as well as her family.

Best: About Time. 11/10 This is hands down the best Rom-Com of all time and Potentially the best film of all time as well. If you don’t cry in this movie you do not have a heart or soul. The characters are SO insanely likable and adorable.It touches on the importance of family and valuing time and how little of it we have. The chemistry within the whole cast is palpable, and we can all relate to at least one character, whether it is the protagonist Tim, his wife Mary, his sister Kit-Kat, or his father.

Well it is important to point out the obvious here: this list is lacking diversity in a huge way. All but one of these movies follow a cis, straight, white couple, and that is extremely concerning. People have attempted to make more diverse rom-coms over the past few years, but they all seem to be lacking one of the three core components of what makes a rom-com great: Relatable, realistic, and great chemistry. For example. Crazy Rich Asians was a fantastic film, but the high level of wealth that Nick Young comes from, made his character difficult to relate to, and I’m sorry but the chemistry just wasn’t there for me. Always Be My Maybe’s characters fell flat and it’s not a film I would want to watch more than once. Love Simon made some huge waves for LGBTQ representation in the media, but that ending kiss was unrealistic along with his friends reaction to fining out he was lying, which left the movie anti-climactic by the end.

Now, the most recent film on this list was made in 2017. And before that 2013. So where have all the Rom Coms gone? Why don’t we see more of them. There are a few Rom Coms that could be contenders on the “Best” list from the last couple of years that include a small amount of diversity:

Yesterday 7/10. The big question here is does this count as a romantic comedy? The love story isn’t the main plot, but is definitely a large sub-plot. This movie features an interracial couple and is highly re-watchable. The main characters are entertaining, relatable, and have pretty good chemistry. We will see if it stands the test of time.

The Broken Hearts Gallery 7/10. This movie has gotten NO recognition. The main character, Lucy, is an extremely likable 20 something, not unlike our Ginnifer Goodwin in He’s Just not that Into You. The plot is fun and predictable but keeps you watching. I don’t know if this one will stay on my list long, but it’s definitely up there.

But here is my challenge to Hollywood: create some new, beautiful Rom Coms that celebrate diversity but that don’t throw away the relatable, realistic, and high chemistry characters that we are just waiting to fall in love with. It’s got like 16 ideas up my sleeve, so just give me a call Hollywood.

#rom com #romantic comedy #13 going on 30 #when harry met sally #sleepless in seattle #my big fat greek wedding #10 things i hate about you #something borrowed #he's just not that into you #the big sick #about time #yesterday #The broken hearts gallery

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theringers · 3 years

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V-card anon: hi sorry about that first ask i kinda went into a fugue state (spelling?) altered state of reality maybe when i wrote that and damn near outlined a fic in your inbox

The way we played hot seat was either part of a larger drinking game when a certain card was pulled from a deck, or just on it's own. You sit in a circle, everyone has a drink, usually a beer or cider. In the card pull version, the one who pulls the card gets asked a question by every person playing and if they refuse to answer they drink from their drink. In the standalone, you do that but everyone gets a turn being asked until people get bored and leave. Fun way to find out shit about people. Usually the unwritten rule is that you can't lie. I imagine everyone sitting on shitty chouches and chairs in a semi circle around a table full of cups and bottles playing it

Questions i have been asked: are you a top or bottom? Do you like anal? Wheres the weirdest place you've fucked? Body count? Favorite position (sexual)? Fuck marry kill/ignore people in this room (EVERY TIME I PLAYED I GOT THIS QUESTION)? Tits or ass or other? Favorite non sexual body part ex. Thigh? Ideal fuck buddy? Sex regrets? Etc

Also more weird details i have head cannoned out for some drivers and most likely does not fit with irl personalities, do with this what you will, use it or don't i just have feelings. Also everyone is like compressed in age to like 20-27ish except for some of the grid who i will just think of as younger alumns who come back:

Danny R: social chair, owns a jeep he takes the doors off of in the summer, walks girls home at night to make sure they're ok, tries to DJ house events and is rebuffed by literally everyone, has like 30 pairs of vans you trip over in his room, stolen roadsigns everywhere, masters in something arigcultural or physiological, cutoff frat shirts for days, fuckboy but nice, a bit cringe, will drive around with you at night so you can scream, met reader bc she had a band tee on and wanted to talk to her about it (no gatekeeping)

Charles: some kind of engineering or math degree but no one has any idea how the fuck he's gotten so far, 4.0 never studies, games with other house members, will show up at events randomly you will have no idea how he gets on your couch but he is there, the best and worst taste in clothes, is the only one allowed to play the piano in the house, sweet, cannot help you with studies but is always down for helping you out after, has to be reminded to clean stuff, disaster bi, reader met his gf first and they probably met through that

Pierre: good fashion and music taste, shirt is gone halfway through the night, also fuckboy but wholesome, actually studies, plays a sport for sure probably soccer in some way either club or Division he's too good for rec, will hold your hair back so you can throw up, will tell you your outfit sucks, good at math, also part of the squad that games, econ major, workout buddies with reader anday have taken a math class together

Max: is part of the hockey team he will go pro, also actually studies, got into gaming because of Charles, has the nicest car, is serious until he gets a couple drinks in him, he and Daniel are close and roomed together at some point, owns like 30 sets of the same outfit a white tee and jeans, knows reader through Dan and they get dragged by him to some of the same stuff

Lando: is a pledge or new member his big is Carlos, undeclared major, just happy to be here, gaming squad, used to play lacrosse or something equally obscure, king of knowing where the good snacks are, weirdly good at beer pong, growing into a fuckboy wholesomeness level tbd, probably sweet with reader as she helped him through a blackout or something, met her because she's basically house mom for some of the new boys (the kind of mom who will teach you to do laundry or iron ONCE)

Carlos: hockey flow but does not play hockey, actually studies and is smarter than what people give him credit for, came from a private high school and uni really opened his horizons, also good study buddy, gets along with most people, goes to office hours the most out of the actually studies gang, fun at parties, owns the frat dogs, he and reader met at Office hours (they were the only students) and found they had mutual friends too

Lewis: is/was president of frat, great grades greater bod, did full evolution from fuckboy to good man, has the back tests and the moral support, up for late noght talks about life, definitely was a D1 athlete, best fashion game, implemented no hazing policy, fits into notable alum or PhD category

Mick: undergrad like Lando, also plays soccer or something, too sweet, also walks girls home/holds your hair back etc, cleans parts of the house that aren't his responsibility, higher alcohol tolerance than you expect, everyone is bizarrely protective of him, legacy member (his dad was a legend), drives a motorbike around campus and can't decide between law and psychology, actually studies, met reader through the frat and she would die for him, brings her to class on the bike sometimes because the bike is faster

George: business major, frat treasurer, three ring binder business casual in class kind of guy, nice enough, shirt comes off when drunk, runs marathons and a podcast about investments, best notes in the game and great study partner, actually studies, is drinking monster at 6AM but not because he stayed up late, he and reader met through the frat and sometimes drink wine and bitch together

Lance: hockey player, legacy member, studies sometimes, sarcasm on point, great at stack cup, very chill, knows every good nap spot on campus, also has high alcohol tolerance, is the kind of person who does well in the cold but does not like it, wears headphones so people don't talk to him, great one on one but not in crowds, business major and minor in computer science, probably also met thru Lance's gf but vibe as more introverted people and will cover for each other if one does not want to go out

Nicky: a good boy, part of the walks people home squad, sets up designated drivers for parties, good snack game, future in medical field, good listener, pretty good study buddy, midnight snack enabler, met reader through frat and his gf he and reader are on babysitting duty together sometimes when others get too drunk/high

Yuki: also a pledge or new, majoring in games or computer science as they gave me the same energy as him, games squad, bit of a mad lad, has several stolen street signs, good, met reader through frat and Yuki is the only one patient enough to explain some games to reader, they cuss people out on mic

Esteban: good man, has a full ride scholarship, actually studies, also good study buddy, Dan's little, plays soccer but maybe on a rec team because he prioritizes school, very sweet guy as well, probably chose a really practical major/dual major, met reader through Dan and are also dragged similar places by him

Antonio: manbun, philosophy or classics major possibly business dual, generally good natured but can be seen supplying his own wine at parties, used to be really into metal but kept the hair, does not know that people find him attractive, soccer boi, met reader through frat and she's the only one who will (pretend) to listen to him rant about philosophy

Alex Albon: another full scholarship guy, somehow gets along with everyone, switched majors due to an asshole professor, electrical engineering or computer engineering, actually studies, helps with frat pets,will show you pictures of his cats at home, sweetie, another contender for will hold your hair or walk you home, probably met reader through a class or club and found they had mutual friends and that reader is friends with his gf

Notable alums:

Checo - dad, successful in finance somehow (he looks like an really successful accountant of CFO to me idk why)

Kimi - dad but people forget he is, holds the record for most drinks in 24 hours that will never be come close to by anyone else, shows up on random alum weekends with 2 kegs, legally cannot tell you what he does or he would actually have to murder you

Valterri - was good at a sport when he was there, now a very effective lead engineer at an architectural firm

Seb - environmental or mechanical engineering, all around good guy with someone the best grades in frat history

Alonso - legendary for sexual exploits (consensual)

Anyone I put as actually studies is probably the type reader would hang around for more serious stuff/schoolwork and would probably be closer to, with the exception of Dan bc I feel like he'd be like we're friends now :)) we shall hang or Charles bc he will just show up. I also imagine she has a pretty good friendship with any existing gf, however if a driver does have a gf and he is the love interest sorry bb girl u gotta go for the purposes of this fic

Sorry this is so long hahaaaaaaa glad you liked my Charles thoughts ilu

i honestly wasn’t going to share this like the rest of the anon asks i’ve gotten that i keep close to my heart but this was just too good to keep to myself.

LOOK! AT! THIS!

f1 drivers as frat bros/college students headcannon

i’m writing a series - each “chapter” will be a smut with a different frat bro and i’m hoping to post a sneak peek this week some time but here’s something to hold you over and give you some ideas

to my vcard anon - i appreciate this so much. my inbox is always open for ur thoughts bc they are SO GOOD !! can’t wait for you to read the first part of the series bby

PS if some of this doesn’t make sense to u feel free to send in asks (i know a lot of this is focused on american college culture so if u don’t get it i’m happy to explain)

#f1 smut asks #headcanons #f1 imagines #vcard anon #f1 blurb #f1 headcanon #f1 as frat bros

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clarythericebot · 3 years

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potential internal conflicts/character arcs for nhie s2

(based on the table read, news, and things that i personally just want to see :P)

- Devi learning to see others as ends of themselves instead of means to an end. No-brainer that this is going to be a theme next season (especially with that pros and cons list of her love interest), but I’m so excited to see how the show’s going to handle it. As I rambled about on this post, one of Devi’s biggest developments as a character was to stop treating Ben as an extension of herself (either as boxing him into the role of Antagonist/Nemesis in her own narrative or as a hateful mirror that points out personal traits she dislikes) and as an actual person and friend, and it’s that which sparks the small epiphany of her feelings towards him. From the table read and the stills, though, it sounds like she might be putting him in a new, albeit prettier box: Love Interest. The same box that she puts in Paxton, who at this point also does have genuine feelings for Devi. She’s looking at them as experiences, not people, and it’s all going to inevitably blow up in her face.

- The Devi/Fabiola/Eleanor friendship changing somehow. I had this impression that all season 1, the three of them have been hanging on to a dynamic that just doesn’t work anymore, in light of Devi’s grief, Eleanor’s abandonment, and Fabiola’s identity conflict. While Devi is definitely in the wrong of blatantly choosing a guy’s inconvenience over her best friend’s weightier problems, I think the larger problem here is that they don’t seem to know how to be there for each other for difficulties larger than to do with school, although the care and concern is there. It actually takes a third party to push them towards solving the overarching issues in their friendship, and even then only briefly. I’d really like to see this explored as a conflict shared between the three of them, instead of it being sidelined completely as Devi being selfish.

- The narrative that Devi will tell Princeton + the parts of herself she’s willing to take to college. (These are technically two conflicts, but I feel like it would make sense to intertwine them, especially since they’ve already been intertwined in the Ganesh Puja episode.) Devi has expressed her intention about leaving her Indian-ness completely and utterly behind her, as well as all the other embarrassing and painful parts of her identity (her grief and her insecurities). She’s come to terms with her father’s death to an extent, but she doesn’t seem to have yet accepted how his death has shaped and marked her. I think this is going to extend with how she deals with her Indian identity, and perhaps how she deals with her relationships.

- The double-standard between Kamala and Devi. On one level I understand Nalini probably treats them different because of her differing relationships with them—one’s her niece that only came to live with them and the other is her only child, her whole family. On the other hand, from the narration Devi has never really experienced her mother expressing such a blatant double standard in favor of Kamala before (about her secret boyfriend); she fully believed her cousin would get into trouble. It never did get addressed.

- In the first season, we experienced how Kamala’s western ideals influenced the part of her life still infused with tradition (her relations to other Indian people and her arranged marriage). The still of Kamala in a labcoat makes me hopeful for the inverse this season: how Kamala’s arranged marriage and traditional ideals affect her career as a scientist.

- Paxton engaging in the fact that he likes someone who is smarter than him (at least in a bookish sense). I’ve never seen this conflict delved into before—most writers just ignore it, focusing on what the love interests have in common (and don’t get me wrong, I’m looking forward to Paxton engaging Devi in this way, either by trying new things or revealing some hobbies or interests we haven’t made privy to). This insecurity is so close to his chest, though, and as much as Devi seems to make a point not to make him feel bad about it, it would be fascinating friction since Devi is very rightfully proud of her intellectual prowess. I imagine this will only be accentuated with knowing that his competition for Devi’s affections is someone razor-edge smart.

- Ben’s anger, and it being dealt with in constructive and destructive ways. I think one of the (numerous) things that I love about Ben and Devi is that they have different approaches to their internal and external conflicts. Devi runs away internally, refusing to face grief and sadness, while she delves head-first into external situations (e.g. asking Paxton to have sex with her, going to a Model UN trip with absolutely no prep and being willing to steal alcohol, talking to her friend’s estranged mom in other to get back into said friend’s good graces). Ben, on the other hand, has remarkable emotional intelligence underneath his high school immaturity (he can read Devi beyond her words actions, he doesn’t deny the isolation and loneliness that he feels, he is prepared to be vulnerable in certain situations) but he doesn’t do anything about it (he stops himself from telling his parents how abandoned he feels, he gives in to his girlfriend essentially using him as a prop, he is ushered into dining in his nemesis’ house by her concerned mother). Then Devi kisses him, and suddenly he’s willing to put his eggs in one basket. He stands up to his parents and demands that they spend family dinner together—because of her, he claims. He breaks up with his girlfriend, finally admitting that what they had wasn’t real, and earnestly informing Devi that he thinks what they have is. “I’m all in,” he tells her, thus crushing my heart. Because what’s strongly being implied, at least by the first part of the first episode, is that Devi’s either going to choose Paxton or neither of them. I imagine that Ben, used to being abandoned time and time again, will not react well to that. (This is expanded in this really awesome meta by @catty-words). There’s potential for the show to frame this as sexist entitlement, but I’d like to hope that the creators will be more compassionate to Ben’s conflict, as they have been in the past. It would genuinely be hurtful for someone you’ve displayed a lot of vulnerability to suddenly turn tail and say it didn’t mean as much to her. My guess is that he’ll lock into their nemesis status quo from before and lean into it hard, and it will likely hurt him badly. What I’d also like to see, though, (if only to assuage my own heartbreak) is him taking steps to deal with this a little more constructively, in addition to the inevitable self-destruction. I’d love to see him get back in touch with his ride-or-die middle school friends or even make new ones. In fact, I suspect that’s who the character of Aneesa is going to be, regardless of whether she becomes a contender for his love interest.

Aneesa is described as someone whose confidence and radiance will pose an immediate threat to Devi. I doubt that means she’ll be another academic rival, at least not completely; Devi already has Ben for that. As for romantic rivalry, it is likely not going to be Paxton Aneesa will be paired with, since it’ll only be a rehash of Devi’s insecurities of Paxton liking ‘hotter’ girls like Zoe and vying for his attention. (There’s a possibility she and Paxton will have history together and that threatens Devi even if she’s already in a relationship with him, but for me, that’s a less interesting choice than letting Devi focus on the challenges that will be inherent with Paxton being her boyfriend.) I think Aneesa will be another mirror for Devi—who she could have been if she pursued friendship and openness and maybe even a relationship with Ben, and that’s likely going to make Devi bitterly jealous. If this results in friendship and openness and maybe even a relationship for Ben (a deeper, more genuine one than his previous), I’m completely here for it, even if I am still hoping for a Bevi endgame.

(Low-key theorizing that Ben's smiling at Aneesa here, btw)

#clary scribbles #nhie meta #ben gross #devi vishwakumar #devi x ben #nalini vishwakumar #kamala nandiawada #paxton hall yoshida #never have i ever

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pseudofaux · 3 years

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Why did Ranamun enter the harem? It was stated that he probably wasn't going to unless his father forced him bc of his pride but it turns out that he actually entered the harem on his own free will. why do you think he had a change of heart?

Oooh, thank you for asking, that’s flattering! Ranamun is a character that we get a lot of information about from other people in the story. I think it’s important to keep in mind that Ranamun himself doesn’t say a ton. Still waters can run very deep! These are just my takes and theories. I’ve only read the freely available episodes on the Webtoon app, so while I am tagging this as spoilers (just in case I’m right! 😳), this post is NOT me revealing what I know to be coming, only what I think from what I’ve seen in the story so far.

My take was that Latil’s retainer thought Ranamun would not want to enter the harem because he’s known to be reclusive/not very social. Duke Atraxil thinks to himself that the institution of a harem must be damaging to Ranamun’s pride (because some people viewed Ranamun as the likeliest husband for Latil), but Ranamun himself doesn’t say anything like that, that I remember. He was not obviously interested in Latil when his father introduced them once the Atraxils backed her claim to the throne. He doesn’t even have to be asked to join the harem, though, he says he wants to (like you said), and then he yanks the harem application paperwork out of his father’s hands and signs! those! damn! documents!

Ranamun does seem quietly, uh, NOT THRILLED that there will be a harem. But there are a lot of ways to interpret those panels! I don’t remember any thoughts or dialogue from Ranamun about how he felt about likely being a consort before the harem was announced.

>> There is (was 💀) definitely SOMETHING going on with Ranamun’s family and Latrasil’s half-brother Thula (and likely his mother Anatchka). When Duchess Atraxil was urging Duke Atraxil to back Latrasil, she made a face when she mentioned but trailed off something about Thula, and MY THEORY is there was bad blood between Thula and Ranamun— I think a conflict with Thula might have been the reason Ranamun was such a reclusive person when we first hear about and meet him. And if that’s true, I think Ranamun could be some silent combination of furious at and grateful to Latrasil for having Thula executed. Maybe this was the point at which he went from passive grump to interested contender.

>> I don’t know if this is super meaningful yet/at all, but when Latil’s courtiers are kicking up a fuss about her wanting a harem, she points out that it was Duke Atraxil who suggested her father take consorts (in part “to keep the empress in check”)… which I’m sure Latil did not fail to notice was how they got Anatchka in the first place.

If Ranamun’s pride was damaged, then I think he entered to prove he was the damn best even in a contest of other people the Emperor approved for the harem. He tells his father he wants to be a consort. He only asks for the books on sex and so on AFTER he decides to apply to join the harem. He declares that the emperor WILL name him the royal consort within a year. Though he be but bookish, he is dick proud… gotta wonder if Guesta is the same way, not so deep down?!?? Maybe he wants to establish himself as royal consort and be so good at pleasing the Emperor so he can work to make sure there are no more Anatchkas/Thulas? Get the empire away from harems altogether.

More, possibly related theory! This is totally conjecture, though: I think Ranamun’s mom, who seems to have a brain, might have been a big supporter of the Empress (Latrasil’s mother, who is at a temple or something like that— it’s implied this is because Anatchka was making the empress’ life difficult? Man, FUCK Anatchka), and Ranamun values and aligns with his mother’s position more than his father’s. Originally Duke Atraxil wanted to wait and not support Latil, but his wife very openly and directly encouraged him to back her.

#men of the harem spoilers #men of the harem #men of the harem theories #men of the harem ranamun #he’s clearly M O T I V A T E D y’know?!#pseu ’sponses

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moviegroovies · 3 years

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confession time: for someone who (semi) actively runs a movie blog, i really haven’t seen a lot of classic movies.

(i know this comes as a shock for those of y’all who have been subjected to nothing but my half-baked thoughtpieces on bad 80′s horror for the past couple of years, but bear with me.)

to be honest, even this review doesn’t REALLY represent me making an active choice to remedy that so much as it does me pulling a long con where i endear myself to marilyn monroe by watching her movies to get myself excited to watch the miniseries blonde (2001), for abnormally pretty, young jensen ackles purposes*, but let’s not dwell on all that. the practical result is the same; i watched some like it hot (1959). now, i hope y’all are ready for a few some like it Thoughts™:

first, idk how much attention y’all have been paying to the loose bits of personal lore i occasionally scatter within my reviews, but one thing about myself that i feel i’ve been pretty open about is the fact that i’m trans. this being so, and knowing not a whole lot about the movie beyond the very basic premise “1959 extended man in a dress gag,” i can’t say i went in with the highest of expectations. imagine my surprise, then, when the gender aspect of this movie was... actually pretty good? i mean, full disclosure, it’s not exactly gender studies, but it’s passable! it’s tolerable! there were even a few moments where i felt inclined to say the words “oh, GENDER?” out loud!

perhaps most impressively, i’d say the Cis Creator Cringe Factor of some like it hot was actually impressively LOWER than a lot of modern moves with genderswapping premises tend to be. like, i know that one definite explanation for that would be the fact that trans experiences are more widespread today, so modern filmmakers don’t feel comfortable playing with ideas like this without at least giving lipservice to them, while the era that bore some like it hot didn’t face the same “pressure,” but, okay. listen. compared to another movie i watched recently--freaky (2020), in which a teenage girl swaps bodies with serial killer vince vaugn, featuring one incredibly anvilicious scene where, upon being informed by a gay boy that she’s in the men’s bathroom, the girl’s best friend retorts, “she [vince vaugn]’s got a dick in her hand, and you’re wearing chanel no. 5. i think we’re past labels.”--some like it hot, a movie older than my father, was wayyyy easier to watch**. actually, you know what? yeah. listen to me. cis content creators? movie producers? i’m talking to you. DON’T EVEN BRING GENDER (or gender “identities”... which is an incredibly gross term, anyway) UP IF YOU’RE NOT PLANNING TO DO SOMETHING WITH IT. sincerely, this particular bad taste corner of the trans community :).

...anyway.

some like it hot, by contrast, did it right. YES, the premise of the movie was two presumably cis men in disguise as women. i’ll put that in the open. however, there was a certain... i don’t know if “respect” is the right word, but there was an avoidance, at least, of the usual predatory tropes. in fact, the worst behavior by far from either main character comes when joe manages to take off his female disguise, donning another, male persona and using things that sugar (marilyn’s character) confided in “josephine” to create a nonthreatening, desirable “millionaire” in order to trick her into sex. okay, like i said, it’s not gender studies, but, the humor in some like it hot comes from generally the right place. joe and jerry don their female disguises in a matter that in quite literally life and death for them (and it’s more than the creators ever thought of, i’m sure, but there IS an interesting analysis to be had of them needing to pass to live), which to a degree removes the usual pitfalls of male to female crossdressing as a gag; they’re neither doing it for lecherous reasons, nor to parody the female experience. this being a comedy, there is a degree of humor found in the situation, but it’s directed at jerry and joe, the characters, more than their disguises. the general assumption is that they both pass without question, as long as they’re wearing their ladies’ clothes; jerry once comments that he’s “not even pretty,” but it’s never an issue to contend with.

wrt the crossdressing, the worst moment for me, personally, was a scene on the train when jerry prepared to take off the disguise in order to sleep with sugar, and even this ends up comedically averted at jerry’s expense.

and speaking of jerry.

jerry is actually the most compelling part of the movie for me, especially viewing it through the lens of gender. while joe, who gets the girl and manages to spend large chunks of the latter part of the film in his second, male disguise, never thinks too much about what they’re doing beyond the survival aspect of it, jerry is the one who, erm, “gets into character.” joe’s female name is simply josephine; before they get on the train with the woman musicians, it’s assumed that jerry will be going by “geraldine.” however, when they give their introductions, the duo becomes josephine... and daphne.

as the movie progresses, this distinction grows more pronounced; when joe has to remind a smitten jerry on the train that he’s a girl, referring to their disguises, jerry miserably repeats the affirmation: “i’m a girl. i’m a girl. i want to die. i’m a girl.” later on, however, as joe’s relationship with sugar develops, “daphne” becomes acquainted with local horndog millionaire osgood, who he at first dislikes, but comes around to after being forced on a date as part of joe’s plan to trick sugar. after seeing jerry excited by the prospect of marrying osgood, a bewildered joe has to remind jerry why it’s an impossibility, and in the same miserable tone as before, jerry/daphne muddles through a new affirmation, one that definitely didn’t ring false to my trans ears: “i’m a boy. i’m a boy. i want to die. i’m a boy.”

hm. actually, now i’m thinking about a trans male reading of joe. he was the one at first resistant to taking the job (with the all-female band), when they only needed money, and not a place to hide from an upset mob boss, but also the one who seems to know more about the role when it comes time to get into character. while jerrydaphne gets increasingly comfortable with femininity as time passes, joe never performs it in anything but a perfunctory, necessary way, and sloughs the costume EVEN WHEN the danger of being found out has not yet passed, because pretending for such a long period of time is just untenable. something about passing for female being a safe haven and a burden for both closeted (re-closeted, in this case) trans men and out trans women?

anyway. by the end, though both osgood and sugar do find out the truth about the disguises, sugar seems to instantly forgive joe for his treacherousness (again, referring more to his actions as the shell millionaire than his escapade in drag), while osgood appears unbothered by daphne’s truth, leading to an ambiguous ending for the futures of the characters, and any realizations that might come later.

no, it’s not the “real transgender experience.” it (thankfully) never claims to be. BUT, being trans myself, there were some moments that made me feel linked to our protagonists, and relatively few, if any, that made me feel alienated. all in all, that’s a lot more than i hoped for going in, so that’s what i’m happy with.

watch some like it hot, y’all. it’s a good movie in a timeless way, and, as modern movies appealing to short-lived trends that will feel outdated next week (if not by the very time of their release) will show you, that’s more than it needed to be.

*since my original draft of this post, i DID watch blonde, and i don’t know if that’s technically fair game for this blog (not exactly a movie) or what, but 6/10. fairly well done piece of art but just BEATINGLY tragic, so proceed with caution. jensen ackles literally is THAT PRETTY though, so the jackles cut i give a strong 11/10. i am a homosexual. **i would like to clarify that this isn’t me telling you not to watch freaky. yes, some of the dialogue is tragically riverdaleian, but there’s also a scene where vince vaugn makes out with a teenage boy. so,

#some like it hot #text post #freaky (2020)#link #jerry/daphne #joe #transgender

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jlf23tumble · 3 years

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I’d love to know you’re very most favorite 1D/Harry fics! Like the ones you’ve read over and over. Or if you’re not a re-reader, the ones you think back to often! Your ride or die fics, as it were.

You’re so sweet!! I am definitely a re-reader, mainly because I’ll see a picture, and it just makes me want to at least skim a fave fic, but this one’s a tough one, mainly because some of my faves have been deleted and/or their authors have left the D terrordome, which is fine, I have the PDFs clutched tightly to my chest, it just skews my final tally. It’s also hard because if I loved a fic, odds are I loved at least three other fics the author wrote, too, and none of us have that kind of scrolling time (well, clearly some of us do, lmaoooo, amirite?). Back to your question, though! To keep it under control, I created my own “21 Club,” but I cheated a bit and made it represent authors who have a lot of other fic I love, too, so you can’t go wrong digging in deeper. Puttin’ it under the cut!

No Control, thegirlwthekittentattoo, 2.6k, harry/louis. Anytime I see Harry's latest Rolling Stone shoot, I think of this fic, it has THAT level of power over me, plus it really makes me want to name my bra and give it the respect it deserves.

nobody knows like me, enbyharry/ @non-binharry, 3.5k, harry/louis. The tenderness and angst and sunshine and vintage summer of this fic!! Asia has a gift of making any of their fics feel a certain ~way, all of them different, but the vibes in this one, the gender of it all, truly next level.

all my lies are safe beside you now, HappyPrincess, 3.6k, harry/zayn. If you want to ACHE over fic, Nin's your author, any pairing, but there's something about this one, this Zayn, the way it makes you want to weep, so much beautiful ouchhh (a motif across a lot of their fic, gorgeous gorgeous gorgeous).

sensitive to pressure, momentofclarity/ @gaycousinlarry, 4k, harry/louis. Whew, my god, do I want to read so much more of the sweat and pube kink in this fic, @pubefest2020 had so many GREATS, but this one stuck with me for days.

mon petit, little one, publunchesownmyass, 5.6k, harry/louis. Big win for fans of recreational drug use and that chicken sweater! This author *delivered* last summer, and a lot of their fics are disappearing, so run don’t walk!

Only Thing That Can Quench My Thirst, eyesofshinigami, 6.5k, harry/louis. This is THE pube fic of all pube fics, I think about it all the time, it actually inspired @pubefest2020, and I personally begged the author to write more for it, but she was tied up (and very lovely in general to chat with). God, I love it so much.

Desperate Measures, sulkingroom, 6.9k, jeff/harry/glenne. This one hits different after all those great pictures from the wedding in Santa Barbara. That bathrobe!! I've actually read another tremendous Jeff/Harry/Glenne, but I'm gonna give it up for my fellow Pisces because I just love anything Melissa writes.

Are You Gonna Be My Girl? LoadedGunn, 7.5k, harry/louis. Everyone seems to have a specific fave of this author’s, but this one’s my eternal fave, Harry role-playing as Louis's first girlfriend.

One day to believe in you, mediaville, 7.7k, harry/louis. The way the dynamics in this story are written feels so very 2016, but the entire concept of Louis being cursed to tell the truth is just god-tier.

call me anything you like, but my name is, wishforwishes, 9.9k, harry/chasm. I rec it all the time, but I stg, I stare at the wall about it all the time, too, so there's that! The way this begins and ends with Zayn really does it for me.

give you my fever, beautlouis, 10k, harry/louis. I want to say this was one of the first fics I read in this fandom, and on one hand, it's so wildly outlandish but on the other it's so incredibly GREAT. I really struggled about which beautlouis fic to pick, so let’s just go with some firsts on every front, lol.

it ain't trickin' if ya got it, sarcasticfluentry, 10.7k, harry/louis. God, i wish this fic still had the pictures/tweets embedded, but no matter, I will rec this for every remote reason I can ever possibly think of, it’s that high on my list.

Tuxedo Dress-Up, Blake, 11.9k, harry/louis I swear, THIS is the fic I'd save in a fire, just the way they're both characterized is spot on, plus all the houses Louis shows him are so specifically SoCal, it just feels like home. Louis's exasperation does it for me, too.

Take Our Bodies Higher, @littlelouishiccups, 21k, harry/louis. LISTEN, I love phone sex operator Louis with every fiber of my being, but phone sex operator Harry? The way the client becomes the talker? HOO BOY, the last chapter, too, incredible.

precious little thing, mercutionotromeo, 21k, harry/louis. There he is! Phone sex operator Louis, at your service, but honestly the number of kinks covered here, nicely done (and another author whose work made this a truly tough call, heh).

Nothing You Can Do..., Teumessian, 28k, harry/louis. aka, the Pinterest fic, an eternal fave and so far ahead of its time in so many ways.

hush., Wankerville, 41k, harry/louis. I always struggle to think about which fic would be THE fic at the top of my list, and let me just say, this one's an eternal contender.

Tied Down, @ham-palpert, 48k, harry/louis. I will never stop rec'ing this, I also loved the author's moodboard for it, everything about it is so incredibly cinematic! A movie I'd watch!

Harry Styles Cooks..., sunsetmog, 61k, harry/louis. Yes, it's still a wip that hasn't updated in a year, and yes, this author has written the lourry fic of my dreams, but I don't care, I love this story, it’s the best crack fic ever.

Time Passed, coffinofachimera/ @belialsmiracles, 66k, harry/louis. DEAR GOD, read this fic and see if you can listen to Fine Line or see photos of Tokyo Harry the same way again, a MASTERPIECE.

Turning Page, purpledaisy, 67k, harry/louis. Harry's filming Dunkirk, and Louis's a scarred football star, and this reads like a goddamned movie, it sounds like a song.

(I truly do have way too many other fics and authors I love, but I had to keep this down to something manageable, and these were top-of-my-head ready!)

#fic rec #one direction #i have a lot of thoughts about scrolling and exhaustion and anxiety and general fandom shitcannery #but this is not the place for it nosiree!#i even kept one of my faves from my fave off this list #because she's dealing with stupid fandom shit #but these are great i promise! ;)#when i say thoughts i mean hot takes #unpopular ones too!

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let-it-raines · 4 years

Text

your wonder under summer skies (8/?)

Summer in Storybrooke, Maine means one thing for its residents: tourist season. This year, for Emma Swan and Killian Jones, it means relationships ending and friendships changing all the while they attempt to figure out just what their relationship is. It’s somewhere straddling the line between friends and lovers, and there’s no guarantee of a soft landing if they fall into new territory.

rating: mature

ao3: beginning | current

tumblr: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 |

-/-

“What time are we supposed to be there?”

“Six,” Killian shouts across the apartment, “but it’d probably be nice if we managed to get there early.”

“It’s your party. They can’t start without you.”

Killian runs his hands through his hair and brushes the front strands back before combing a small amount of gel through it so it’ll stay in place. “It’s a barbecue that I think they realized they were hosting on my birthday at the last minute. It’s not my party.”

“It’s your party, little brother.”

Killian clenches his teeth before he swallows his pride. He’s not going to start something, not now. They’ve had a good day together, and the last thing he needs is to have Liam being passive aggressive to him all night long. He’s been cross for a week now, ever since Killian didn’t come home and asked Liam if he’d let Skipper out in the morning for him.

“Where were you?” Liam asked.

“I was with someone,” Killian mumbled as he pushes through the apartment door. “I’ll try to plan better next time.”

“Next time? So you’ve found your seasonal woman then?”

“Shove it, Liam.”

“If you want me to take care of your dog, you at least owe me some answers.”

Killian turned on his heel and narrowed his eyes. “My personal life is my own. Question it again at your own peril.”

“Oh, so maybe you didn’t find someone. You’re usually cheerier after a night like that.”

“Fuck off.”

He’s got to figure out some kind of plan for Skipper if that’s how Liam is going to be every time Killian doesn’t manage to get home before dawn. That night he’d been sitting in a service station parking lot until seven talking with Emma and had lost track of time, but he’ll have to be more careful.

Or get Emma one of those rope ladders in order to climb out the window.

She’d murder him.

Then again, it’d be better than sending her falling out the window.

The rope ladder, not being murdered.

“It’s a barbecue,” Killian sighs as he grabs a flannel shirt off the hanger and pulls it on. It’s too hot for it now, but it won’t be later. The summer heat fades away as soon as the sun goes down, and he’s certainly not going to complain about it when it’s the best part of any late June day. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah, I’m ready. We’ve got to pick up Elsa on our way there.”

“Her apartment is on the other side of town.”

“She’s at the country club with Emma. We’re picking her up, too.”

“Oh?” Killian raises his brow.

Liam furrows his in response. “What?”

“Nothing,” he lies, not wanting to push anything. “Let’s go. You can drive. It’s my birthday, and I’m not about to be the designated driver.”

“Consider it my gift to you.”

Emma and Elsa are waiting for them in the driveway of the club. Elsa’s in the shorts and polo she wears to work, the only thing missing the apron that keeps the ice cream off of her. Emma, however, is in a form-fitting black camisole tucked into a white patterned skirt that’s nearly see-through in the sunlight. He’s got no bloody clue how she got away with wearing that to work unless Regina wasn’t around, but he’s certainly not going to complain.

Except for the fact that they’re about to be in an extremely public place where he can’t enjoy her attire as much as he’d like to.

“Hey,” Elsa greets as she hops into the back of the truck. “Happy birthday, Killian.”

“Thank you, love.” Emma’s door opens behind him, and she slides in. “Do we need to take you by your place so you can change?”

“What? My uniform doesn’t scream birthday barbecue to you?”

“You have a giant ice cream cone on your shoulder.”

Elsa’s eyes roll. “I don’t need to change. We can go.”

“Aye, aye Captain,” Liam sighs, his lips pulled into a bright smile as he stares in the rearview mirror. Elsa chuckles and returns his smile, and Killian looks away. He’s not intruding, but it damn well feels like it.

Elsa and Liam monopolize the conversation on the drive to the Nolans’ as Elsa fills Liam in on everything having to do with the wedding. The thing isn’t for three months, but as he’s been informed over and over again, that isn’t a lot of time when there’s still so much to be done.

(There are pictures of flowers spread out across his kitchen counter with notes written on all of them, and he has no idea how that is going to help come up with a bouquet or arrangements when there are at least fifty options that will lead to endless combinations and possibilities.)

It’s nice to see Liam involved, though. He’s usually so wrapped up in work that he rarely does anything outside of that.

But this is Elsa, and Liam would do anything for Elsa.

He gets that trait from their mum, Killian thinks. She was always beyond loyal to the people she loved even when that was to her own detriment.

They pull onto the road that leads up to the Nolans’ townhome, and Liam finds a spot behind Ariel’s car. She’s already texted him three times today to tell him how excited she is for it to be Killian’s birthday, and he honestly doesn’t think he’s known a singular person to have so much enthusiasm.

Liam and Elsa fall into step ahead of him, Liam’s arm wrapped around Elsa’s shoulder, and Killian feels Emma’s hand brush against his as a shiver inches across his skin. He looks down to see if it’s still there, but it’s not. She’s got it pushed into the pocket of her skirt, and when he glances up, he can see that she’s looking in the opposite direction.

Is she avoiding him?

“Did you have a good day at work?”

“It was fine. Regina was the worst, but otherwise it was fine.”

“Oh? Regina was there today?”

Emma finally turns to him with an arched brow. “Why would you think she wasn’t there?”

“Because she’s rarely there, and I know for a fact that when she is, you have to be a little more uptight with your clothes.”

Emma stops in front of the Nolans’ open front door and crosses her arms over her chest. “What are you saying about my clothes, KJ?”

Killian raises his hands in the air and takes a step back even as he curls his lips into a smile he knows is his most earnest. Well, in a way.

“You cut quite the figure in that outfit, love, but I can also see almost all of your figure in the natural light.”

Her eyes widen and the sunlight glints across them to illuminate the green. “You can what?”

Killian gestures down to her skirt. “I can see the outline of your legs through your skirt, Swan.”

“Can you see my underwear?”

“Eh.” He scratches his ear. “Possibly.”

“Well, shit. I’ve been walking around like this all day. When is the sun going to set so I can stop flashing people?”

“In a few hours.”

“Great. So I’m about to flash all of our friends?”

“Every single person here has seen you in the small scraps of fabric you call a bikini. I think you’ll be fine.”

She tilts her head back, elongating her neck, and groans. “It’s fine, I guess. It’s too late to change now unless I want to wear Mary Margaret’s clothes, and I like this outfit. Happy birthday, by the way. Did you get the cupcakes I sent you?”

“Aye. I had the lemon one. I saved the chocolate one for you. I figured you’d picked that one out for yourself anyway.”

“I am neither confirming nor denying that.”

“I don’t tend to eat chocolate, and you sent me one chocolate cupcake in a group of otherwise nicely flavored cupcakes. It’s pretty clear.”

Emma shrugs, but her lips curl up in the corners. “I’ve got something else for you, too.”

“Oh? Is that so?”

“Mhm.”

Killian sways closer to her and cocks his head to the side. “Do I get it now or is that happening when you come over to get your cupcake?”

“It’s for now.”

“Why, Swan, so close to all of our friends? That’s risky.”

She presses up on her toes, and he swears her lips brush over his. “I’m not having sex with you for your birthday, but I do have you tickets to a Yankees game in August.”

“Bloody hell. Really?”

“Really.” She presses forward and brushes her lips against his cheek. “Happy birthday, KJ. Feel free to take whoever you want to the game, but if it’s not me, I’m gonna be pissed.”

Killian throws his head back and laughs before leaning forward and wrapping his arms around Emma. “Will is going to fight you for it, but you’re definitely a contender.”

“Good. Now let’s go inside. A whole host of people are waiting inside to celebrate you.”

“I think they’re here for the food.”

“Eh, don’t get into the specifics.”

Emma’s right. There is a host of people waiting inside for him. It’s rare for all of them to have off on the same day, especially a Saturday night, and even if he is not one to want a big celebration for himself, it’s nice to get to catch up with everyone. Though, he does remind himself that this was never intended for him, but that doesn’t matter when the food is good and the beer is cold against his lips.

Ruby and Will are currently arguing over the best way to make a margarita, Mary Margaret is offering to set up a competition between them, and David is insisting that doesn’t happen because Mary Margaret and tequila are not a good combination.

“Oh come on,” Elsa sighs, “let’s do the competition. I want to relive Mary Margaret’s bachelorette weekend.”

“Can’t that wait until your own bachelorette weekend?” David groans.

“Mine is hopefully going to consist of a weekend at the spa and the exact opposite of Mary Margaret’s because Anna is planning it instead of Ruby.”

“Hey,” Ruby scoffs, “what the hell does that mean?”

“I think it means that if anyone is going host a party with gummy dicks, it’s going to be you.”

“I did for mine,” Ariel adds in.

“Wait? What?” Eric looks over at his wife, and Killian hears Emma snicker in the lawn chair next to him. “You had those?”

“I did. They were really good. I think I still have some of the packets stuffed away in a closet somewhere.”

“Ruby can get you some more,” Mary Margaret says. “She’s got a contact at the company who makes them.”

“Liam, it seems like we’re all set for your party then.”

Liam tosses a cube of ice at Killian, but he misses him as it skims behind him. “I might let you plan it, or I might let Rob takeover. He’s less likely to get us arrested.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means law enforcement finds my face kinder than yours,” Robin sighs. “And you do have a tendency to, well, get yourself in trouble.”

“I’ve never gotten myself bloody arrested!”

“Okay,” Will claps, “I think we can all agree that I will be the host as I am the only one of the lot of you who knows how to have a good time.”

“Oh, why don’t we do one together,” Elsa suggests. “We can take out one of the big boats for a day and just hang out. Like this, but better because we’re out on the water. We can find a day where Anna can come down.”

“I think that’s a brilliant idea, darling. Maybe we could find a house and get out of the city for a weekend.” Liam leans over and kisses Elsa’s forehead. “We’ll even let Ruby get the dick gummies if she really has to have that.”

“I do. I also want birthday cake, so birthday boy, can we please finally cut in before I have to take the entire thing for myself?”

“Let’s eat cake,” Killian demands. “And have the margarita contest.”

David slumps down in his chair and covers his face with his hands.

They don’t actually hold a contest, deciding that no one actually wants to see Will and Mary Margaret argue for the rest of the night, but Ruby does get her cake. Killian’s body has to be made up of fifty percent sugar at this point in the day, but he honestly doesn’t care. The sun sets and the backyard is lit only by the string lights hanging above them and the lights shining through the windows in the houses across the street. Rob’s left to meet up with Regina, her son, and Roland, and Eric had to leave to tend to the restaurant but left Ariel behind. She’s taken that as a sign that she has to talk his ear off about next week’s Fourth of July beach festival.

“Don’t you remember when you first moved here and you thought it was the worst thing in the world?”

“I still think it’s the worst thing in the world.”

“But it’s so much fun! The city brings in rides and games, and the firework show. My God, it’s like magic. Plus, Eric makes a killing at the restaurant from all the extra people that come in. Oh, Emma!”

Killian glances behind him and sees Emma walking by with half a hot dog in her mouth. “What?”

“Don’t you think the carnival is so much fun?”

She covers her mouth and keeps chewing as she walks over to them. “I think it has the potential to be fun, but it usually ends with some kid throwing up on my shoes or me having to go into work because Regina is fuming over the festival we do for our members not being as lavish.”

“Oh, come on, the two of you need to lighten up. It’s going to be fun!”

“I will try to muster half of the enthusiasm that you have, love.”

“That’s all I ask. Are there still hot dogs?”

“A few more, but you’re going to have to fight David for them.”

“Oh, I can definitely take him. I’ll be right back.”

Ariel leaves them, and Emma plops herself down into the chair next to him before propping her feet up on his lap and kicking off her sandals while she continues to eat her food.

“Were you not considering a plate for that?”

“Nope.”

“Classy.”

She shrugs. “I do what I can. So, how’s your night been? I thought you were going to hurl yourself at Liam earlier.”

Killian’s brow raises. “Pardon?”

“When he made that joke about you likely getting them arrested at his bachelor party you looked like you were getting ready to murder him.”

“Did I?”

“I mean, you pretty much always look like you’re going to murder him, but your jaw did that thing where it clenches and moves all broody and angry like.”

He swallows and blinks at Emma, letting his eyes adjust to the ever-darkening night. There must be clouds in the sky for how few stars are showing, and maybe if he stares at it long enough, he won’t have to have this conversation.

He could really use another beer right now.

“For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’d get anyone arrested. You like to play scoundrel, but I’m pretty sure you’ve always been the type to play by the rules.”

“Swan, we both know that’s a lie. Even when I was a buttoned-up Naval lieutenant I still hated not being the one in charge. So many of the damn rules were ridiculous.”

“Like what?”

He draws his finger to his neck. “I would be reprimanded if I had a hickey on my neck. The damn things are unattractive, yes, but I don’t think I deserved to be punished for it.”

“That happen to you a lot then? Your women couldn’t keep their hands off of you? Well, their mouth.”

Emma’s laughing at herself, but he feels his stomach sink with her words. But she doesn’t know. He’s never told her.

And now certainly isn’t the time.

“I think you’d be surprised with how I was when I was younger.”

“Yeah?”

“Aye. I mean, I was still this handsome and charming, but I could keep a woman for longer than a summer.”

“I’m sure you could.”

She shifts her foot on his lap and Killian’s hand falls to her ankle. Her skin is as soft as it always is, and he starts aimlessly drawing on her skin. Does no one believe that he’s capable of more than one-night stands and summer flings?

Though, he doesn’t blame them. He doesn’t exactly believe that about himself. It’s been a long damn time since he was capable of more than that.

A long time since he’s wanted to be.

“But seriously? You two okay?”

He shakes his head and forces a smile. “We’re fine, darling.”

“Superpower, Jones.”

“Can’t it be wrong one time?”

Emma shrugs and takes the last bite out of her hot dog. “It’s probably wrong all the time, but I like to believe in it.”

Killian sighs.

Damn perceptive woman.

“Liam has been a little cross with me since I wasn’t home last week to let Skipper out. He does this. He assumes I’m with some woman and gets irritated because he can’t understand that I’m not like him and can’t find someone like Elsa who I want to marry and settle down with. I don’t know. He’s thought of himself as my father for most of his life, and I know he means well, but his intentions don’t always translate.”

“Was that when you were with me?”

“Aye.”

Emma’s foot moves to shift off of him, but he grabs it and keeps it in place before looking up at her. She’s chewing on her bottom lip and has her head twisted to the side. Light reflects off her cheekbones and illuminates the angles of her face and reaches up into her hair. It’s usually golden like threads from a fairytale, but right now it’s a translucent white that matches the smile he’s usually lucky enough to be graced with.

He’s known many beautiful women in his lifetime, but there is something so undeniably different about Emma Swan.

A yellow wildflower in a garden full of red roses. Some people prefer roses with all of their petals perfectly lined up, but he’s always been a fan of flowers showing up in a place they otherwise do not fit and becoming beautiful all the same.

He’s always preferred a wildflower to a rose.

Emma Swan is undoubtedly a wildflower.

“If I’m coming between you guys…” She trails off and worries her bottom lip. “I don’t know. I don’t want that.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

She motions over to where Liam is sitting at a table with Elsa, David, and Mary Margaret. “You and Liam. I’m the woman you’re sleeping with. I’m the one who is keeping you from having this stable relationship you so want. And we both know he would implode if he found any of this out.”

“You are not keeping me from anything. If I wanted something stable, I’d have it.” Killian pushes her foot off of him and leans forward until his face is within inches of hers and he can see the green of her eyes and the freckles on her nose. He likes that there are more nearly every time he sees her. “And last week I was with you because you needed me as a friend. I’m always going to be here for you like that. That’s rule one, isn’t it?”

Emma huffs and blinks up at him before she finally stops chewing on her lip and smiles. “Hey, it’s your birthday. We should be having more fun than this, shouldn’t we?”

And he knows it’s a conversation change. He’s not blind. But he also isn’t in the mood to push Emma right now. She will push back, and it doesn’t always end up being pretty.

“What do you suggest we do then, love?”

“Do you feel like an old school classic with some drinks involved or should we go raid David and Mary Margaret’s game cabinet?”

“Oh, classic, definitely. You want to do the cereal box one?”

“Is that the one where we all have to pick it up with our mouths? That’s kind of unsanitary.”

Killian’s brows raise. “Your mouth has touched many places on me, so I think you’ll be okay.”

Emma scoffs and pushes against his shoulder. “Don’t be gross. We’re going to do ‘Never Have I Ever’ because this is your twenty-eighth birthday, and we’re all super mature.”

“Obviously. We should have let Mary Margaret and Will do their margarita contest in preparation for this.”

“Mary Margaret’s would have won. “

“If you tell Will that, it will devastate him.”

She shrugs and stands up, stepping into her shoes. “I’ll let him keep his pride. Now, c’mon, it’s time to ask each other very pointed embarrassing questions in the spirit of celebrating your birth.”

-/-

@qualitycoffeethings @mrtinski @klynn-stormz @scarletslippers @jonirobinson64 @snowbellewells @therealstartraveller776 @thejollyroger-writer @sherifemma @shardminds @captainsjedi @galaxyzxstark @galadriel26 @idristardis @karenfrommisthaven @teamhook @spartanguard @searchingwardrobes @itsfabianadocarmo @jamif @shireness-says @ultimiflos @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @onepunintendid @bluewildcatfanatic @superchocovian @killianswannn @carpedzem @captainkillianswanjones @mayquita @jennjenn615 @onceuponaprincessworld @a-faekindagirl @scientificapricot @xellewoods @ultraluckycatnd @stahlop @kmomof4 @tiganasummertree @singersdd @tornadoamy @cluttermind @lfh1226-linda @andiirivera

#your wonder under summer skies #cs fic #cs ff #cs fanfic #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #captain swan fanfic #captain swan

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terresdebrume · 4 years

Text

The Witcher - Favorite Reads Masterpost

So, the previous one was getting really super long and Tumblr refused to save the latest update three times, which I’m taking to mean I’ve reached some kind of length limit. In view of that, and with a poke to @nyliekeo who asked to be tagged, here’s the second volume of my Witcher fic-reading adventures!

(Pretty much all Geraskier, because I’m only a multishipper in the sense that I have many ships across many fandoms.)

Volume 1

Last updated: April 10th, 2020.

Non geraskier fic

Her Current Is Pulling You Closer - TheMarvellousMadMadamMim

Specs: 1 900 words - Teen & Up Audiences - Eist/Calanthe - Swimming, shameless flirting

Summary: After nearly three years of marriage, Eist Tuirseach realizes there are still things to learn about his wife.

Becoming Water - Orockthro

Specs: 3 456 words - Mature - Trans woman!Geralt, curses, happy ending

Summary: When Geralt was a child his mother kissed his forehead, wove flowers in his hair, and let him dance around the campsite they shared with the other druids. He loved dancing, the way his body moved and flowed; he was like water.

And then she left him in the road, spilled water on his feet, and a faint trail of dust where she and the cart were no longer. And a man came and took Geralt and made him into something new.

“Were you short? Waifish? Did those witcher mutagens turn you into, you know, the hulking sexy man that you are? At least they gave you such male perfection, what with the stubble and the jaw and the--”

“Shut up, Jaskier.”

(Or, Geralt is cursed with a female body during their travels. Only it's not so much a curse as a gift she didn't know she so desperately desired until now.)

of cockroaches and men - Potrix

Specs: 1 442 words - Teen & Up Audiences - Yennefer & Jaskier, Getting to know each other, BAMF Jaskier

Summary: As if being stuck waiting for her supplier in this sorry excuse for a town full of narrow-minded, superstitious simpletons isn't already frustrating enough, the first familiar face Yennefer spots when she walks into the grubby tavern is that of her least favourite bard.

Or, alternatively; sometimes you misjudge people, but there's nothing some badassery and booze won't fix.

all cooped up - alittlebitmaybe

Specs: 4 205 words - Mature - Polyamory, Pandemic 2020, Non-explicit sex, instigator Yen

Summary: Geralt's old university roommate, Jaskier, needs a place to ride out the pandemic. Geralt and Yennefer conveniently have a couch and Geralt, inconveniently, has a crush.

Cover it over and write it out - TheArcheologist

Specs: 3 214 words - Mature - Dyslexia, implied child abuse, Dandelion is a noble

Summary: There is something Geralt has noticed, after traveling so long with Jaskier. It is nothing major, nothing world ending or even warranting bringing up, but it is there, nonetheless, a funny little habit he can’t unsee.

“You’re better at this stuff than me, Geralt, you read it.”

Geraskier fics

pride - Besully (Briar_Elwood)

Specs: 737 words - Teen & Up - Trans Jaskier

Summary: Geraskier Week Dealer's Choice

He only manages to get the shirt untucked from the bard’s trousers when Jaskier’s smile disappears, and he scrambles backwards, holding the edges of his shirt down.

Do It Again - thisgirlsays22

Specs: 6 771 words - Explicit - Time Loop

Summary: By the twentieth time Geralt has gone through the loop, he decides to just throw himself off the cliff’s edge after Borch.

He wakes up to his twenty-first attempt.

“Fuck.”

Interlude; The End of All Things - TabbyCat33098

Specs: 3 496 words - General Audiences - Growing Old Together

Summary: Geralt realizes Jaskier is growing old and tries his best to return the rest of Jaskier's life to him. If only Jaskier would cooperate and take it.

How much longer will Jaskier be content with weathering the elements and contending with the uncertainty of mercenary work? How long until Jaskier realizes that in devoting himself to crafting a legacy for Geralt, he has forgotten to create a legacy of his own?

After all, he does not have a wife or children, for their nomadic lifestyle is conducive to neither. He has no home to return to between stints with Geralt, whether a sprawling mansion vaunting his wealth or a comfortable cottage replete with souvenirs from his varied exploits. How many experiences has Jaskier sacrificed because some contract or irate nobleman drew them elsewhere? How many untouched fields of snow has Jaskier never seen; how many harvests at Novigrad has he yearned to celebrate from halfway across the Continent—

“You’re staring,” Jaskier points out.

“You wanted to go to the Kovirian coast,” Geralt responds.

a tapestry of scars - splendidlyimperfect

Specs: 7 688 words - Mature - Modern AU, Birpolar disorder, self harm, references to previous suicide attempt and car accident.

Summary: Jaskier comes into Geralt's life on a sunny afternoon in May - wide smiles and baby blue eyes; breathtaking stories and half-written song lyrics. He's mesmerizing and full of life, and Geralt can't look away. But sunshine doesn't last forever, and when Jaskier disappears, Geralt learns that beautiful things have dark and broken pieces, and even damaged people can help fix them.

Summer Mornings - The UnamazingTrashKing

Specs: 3 241 words - Mature - Fluff

Summary: Geralt and Jaskier are sort of a couple. They definitely wake up together and talk about spending the rest of their lives together.

An Incomplete Happiness - BlossomsintheMist

Specs: 22 497 words - Mature - Serious injuries, injuries recovery, unresolved sexual tension, unresolved romantic tension

Summary: Jaskier is traveling with Geralt when a hunt goes badly wrong and Geralt ends up injured. Geralt soon realizes that the bard can take care of Geralt better than he'd realized, in his own way.

Hide Behind The Mound of Dead Bards - Bones (Doctorbones)

Specs: 17 296 words - Explicit - Temporary character death, Graphic depiction of violence

Summary: Jaskier is really bad at two things: shutting up and staying dead. Luckily, he can do both at the same time...for a while.

faith in transience - unconscious

Specs: 12 532 words - Explicit - Monster of the week, Service top Jaskier, attempted mind control.

Summary: “I learn stuff about you to enrich my songs, thanks very much.” Geralt starts.

“Like what?”

Jaskier strums a chord. “Plenty of things. You always ask the contractor if they want the head or not instead of just showing up with it, because you don’t want to shock people. You eat normal amounts of food when eating in public, instead of your usual awe-inducing giant amount. You sleep more when you’re hurt, but that’s the only way I’d ever know. You’re a bit weird about your potions and you count them a lot.” He glances up and grins. “Shall I continue?”

A handful of contracts go sideways. Recovering is easier with Jaskier there.

when midnight breaks their sleep - SummerFrost

Specs: 16 736 words - Mature - Modern setting, polyamory, polyamory negociation

Summary: The first Snapchat that anyone ever sends Geralt is a picture of his own irritated face.

shrike_princess: can u believe this dumbass finally got a snapchat bc a cute boy asked him nicely

"It wasn't even that nicely," Geralt says flatly.

AKA: The one where Geralt is a bartender and Jaskier sings karaoke.

he, who i love - kinneyb

Specs: 1 279 words - Teen & Up Audiences - Established relationship

Summary: Jaskier looked forward to these nights the most; he was playing in a rundown tavern in a small town near the coast, coins gathered at his feet, knowing that at any moment Geralt would come bursting through the door.

He spun on his heels, strumming his lute with nimble fingers, the mark of a practiced player.

Jaskier had thought he’d reached his peak when he was younger. He had been proven wrong, of course, practice truly did make perfect. He was getting more attention than ever, and only half of it probably had to do with his new songs, all depicting the Witcher’s love story with a bard of the human variety.

He never directly mentioned himself, but the people had made the connection fairly easily, anyway.

Near the Coast - IantoPace

Specs: 2 164 words - Teen & Up Audiences - Dresses

Summary: Geralt finds out some of the feminine things Jaskier likes. This is inspired by the images of Joey Batey & Madeleine Hyland in the woods wearing each other's clothes.

Shoot First, Ask Questions Later - Ladivviniatravestia

Specs: 3 427 words - Teen & Up Audiences - Defining the relationship

Summary: Geralt and Jaskier fuck, then try to define their relationship. Too bad Geralt has no idea what he really wants and Jaskier has been hiding something.

parry, riposte - plutoandpersephone

Specs: 5 230 words - Explicit - Established relationship, competence kink, power dynamics

Summary: "How about it?"

Geralt looks at Jaskier like he’s just started to speak in some long lost, foreign tongue.

"You want to take me on in the sword ring?"

Jaskier challenges Geralt to a bout in the fencing ring. They both get more than they bargained for.

The Coast - NinjaSniperKitty

Specs: 1 856 words - General Audiences - Established relationship, overly protective boyfriend!Geralt

Summary: Geralt takes Jaskier up on his offer to get away and go to the coast for a while. While Geralt sees danger hiding everywhere along the coast, Jaskier hasn't been to the sea in years and only sees a good time!

Sweet, Silky, Soft, and Shiny - Girl_in_Red_Crossing

Specs: 3 251 words - Mature - Inappropriate use of candy

Summary: Just a couple of bros, sucking on sweet things... sharing silky things... lying in soft beds together... (kissing)...

The Witcher Wolf 2: Geralt’s POV - im_fairly_witty.

Specs: 15 338 words - Teen & Up Audiences - Animal transformation

Summary: It's been two weeks since Geralt drove Jaskier away from him on that mountain top and Geralt's been doing his best not to think about it by accepting every contract he comes across. But when a job goes badly he find himself cursed into the form of an injured wolf and is then saved by none other than Jaskier himself, who has no idea that the animal he's taken under his wing is his own witcher. Geralt must now try to alert Jaskier to his real situation and adjust to his new life traveling with the bard, learning several hard but very much needed lessons along the way.

Shadowplay - sospes

Specs: 26 539 words - Mature - BAMF!Jaskier, Espionnage

Summary: Geralt returns to Oxenfurt on a bright May morning to find flowers laid outside Jaskier's rooms and a fresh grave in the cemetery.

Except, as Geralt is about to learn, in Jaskier's world things are never quite what they seem.

An Old Man’s Tale - NotebooksandLaptops

Specs: 1 448 words - General Audiences - External POV, Old age

Summary: At the edge of the village, in a house surrounded by wild-flowers and weeds - re-built from its former crumbling foundations – there lived the Old Man. He’d earnt the rights for the capital O, capital M off of the rest of the villagers barely a week after he’d moved into their humble world. For he had not grown up here, like everyone else did. Yet he settled and settled as if he had always been there. He wandered the cliffsides, the beaches, the streets. He strung shells together and gifted them to the ladies of the village with a wink that betrayed the charming young man he once must have been. He bought the little ceramic pots Alicja sold on the market, and he filled them with weeds as if the weeds were flowers worth showcasing. And – most importantly – he sang.

-///-

Or, Jaskier settles in a costal village towards the end of his life.

For The Joy Of It - vvitchering (Witchering)

Specs: 848 words - Teen & Up Audiences - self esteem issues, body image

Summary: After spending years on The Path together, Jaskier and Geralt finally settle down. Jaskier notices one day that his new sedentary lifestyle has changed him in ways he fears Geralt won't accept.

The Silence Between Heartbeats - anarchycox

Specs: 7 969 words - Teen & Up Audiences - Jskier knows Geralt better than anyone

Summary: Geralt faced off with a sorceress, only instead of her magic killing him, it stole his voice. But this should be an easy fix, he knew many women who could heal this. But that would mean anyone noticing something wrong. He knew he was quiet, but seriously, did no one wonder why he wasn't saying a single thing? Months he traveled silent, no one noticing and it was driving him mad.

Until he runs into Jaskier, who notices immediately that something is wrong.Because of course it is Jaskier.

Who else in the end would it be, who properly saw the White Wolf?

tailored - jeannie_tangerine

Specs: 4 874 words - Explicit - Geralt has a kink and Jaskier is absolutely into it.

Summary: in which Jaskier finds out that Geralt has a kink and is more than glad to indulge it.

oh darling please be mine - kickassfu

Specs: 749 words - General Audiences - Introspective, fluff

Summary: Geralt’s head turns to him just as he’s jumping into his arms. Obviously, he catches Jaskier, in his very strong, very big arms. Still probably processing what’s happening, Geralt’s body is tense, unmoving. Jaskier doesn’t care.

New Monsters Stories - Kathkin

Specs: 20 209 words - Explicit - Urban fantasy, mutual pining

Summary: “So do you have a name?”

“Yeah.” The man who had saved his life less than an hour ago – the white-haired, absurdly buff, weirdly sexy man Jaskier might have called taciturn if he was feeling charitable and surly if he was feeling less so – dug into his second burger.

Jaskier waited. “Are… you going to tell me what it is?”

The man paused mid-bite, and looked at him reproachfully as if to say how dare you. How dare you interrupt me. Can’t you see I’m enjoying my cheeseburger. Can’t you see this cheeseburger is the most important thing in my life right at the moment. He swallowed, and said, “Geralt.”

It turns out almost getting eaten by a werewolf can make your whole life go careening off in a new, terrifying, wondrous, artistically flourishing direction. Who knew?

Professor Pankratz - martistarfighter

Specs: 1 147 words - Teen & Up Audiences - Established relationship

Sumary: “Come teach my class with me tomorrow.” He whispers in the witcher’s ear. He’s sporting a neatly trimmed beard these days, and it tickles Geralt’s neck in the most tempting way.

Geralt chuckles dryly, but the lack of an immediate quip tells him that Jaskier is serious. It’s a little scary how often they can read their minds by now.

“Don’t think so. You’re the teacher, Jask. I’ve got nothing to tell them.”

“But you’re the reason I’m still alive and teaching in the first place. Besides, you can just sit there, look pretty and answer some questions. My students have heard a lot about you, they’ll adore you.”

As someone pointed out, there's too much 'witcher watching out for his idiot' and not enough 'the witcher is a himbo who loves his college educated bard husband, who is qualified to teach' content out there. So I'm fixing it with a self-indulgent ficlet!

and i plan to be forgotten when i’m gone (yes, i’ll be leaving in the fall) - Stockholm_Syndrome

Specs: 18 083 words - Mature - Discussion of assisted suicide, discussion of suicide, depression, curse, no MCD

Summary: “That was more emotional than I expected.” He finally said “I didn’t think I’d have time to share this with you, and I.” Jaskier interrupted himself, as if unsure if he should continue. “I suppose I didn’t think it would upset you so.”

“Jaskier” Geralt growled, not able to express how ludicrous that idea was.

“Yes, I suppose I was wrong there.” Jaskier replied with a helpless shrug.

---- Or, Jaskier is cursed to turn into a monster. He doesn't think this is important information to mention.

Chopsticks - thisgirlsays22

Specs: 12 175 words - Explicit - Piano teacher!Jaskier, friends to lovers, modern setting

Summary: “Yennefer sent me a check for eight lessons for you,” Jaskier said the following weekend, wearing a beige button-down with--

“Does your shirt have owls on it?” Geralt asked, caught somewhere between amusement and horror.

Jaskier looked down and tugged on the front of his shirt as if he had to remind himself what was on it. He beamed at Geralt. “Yeah! Do you like it?”

“Not particularly.”

The smile swiftly disappeared.

“It’s not terrible,” he amended, stepping back to let Jaskier inside the apartment. Then Jaskier’s initial words sank in. “Wait. Yen did what?”

Hanging up on Yennefer was always a mistake.

what’s in a (pet) name? - janie_tangerine

Specs: 1 415 words - Teen & Up Audiences - Fluff, pet names

Summary: "So," he clears his throat one evening, having just rinsed Geralt's now clean, soft white hair, and damn how he wishes the man would just take care of it somewhat decently, "I was wondering."

"What?" Geralt says after he doesn't go on for a bit. It didn't sound particularly annoyed. Right on.

"This is a very broad question, but I was just curious, no need to answer if you don't want to -" Jaskier starts, having learned that giving the man a way out is always a good bet.

"Just get on with it, won't you?"

Jaskier clears his throat, leans down, puts his elbows on the rim of the tub. "How do you feel about pet names?"

Or: in which Jaskier has a question for Geralt. It doesn't get answered the way he had assumed.

As Long As You Were Mine For A Little While - whisperedstories

Specs: 12 815 words - Explicit - Friends with benefits, mutual pining

Summary: It starts with Jaskier offering a helping hand when Geralt needs to let off some steam. The thing is, Jaskier likes taking care of Geralt—however he can—and Geralt lets him, so he just keeps doing it.

And as long as they never talk about how he's in love with Geralt, they're both happy with the arrangement, right? Right.

Of Debt and Debtors - sp_oops

Specs: 5 136 words - Explicit - Semi-public sex

Summary: Two bros, chillin' in a ta-vern, five feet apart ‘cause they—fuck, they really missed each other, not that Geralt will ever admit it—and anyway, in a minute here, they're gonna have to get closer than they ever thought possible. (Or, sometime after Episode 6, they meet again, Jaskier’s in trouble again, and Geralt saves them. Again.)

This One I Shall Choose - DorkMagician

Specs: 3 751 words - Teen & Up Audiences - Quiet pining, the exact moment Geralt falls in love

Summary: Geralt falls in the river fishing for a djinn and winds up soaked. Jaskier sees the opportunity to do as his mother told him a long time ago and takes the first step when he offers Geralt his handkerchief.

Skin Deep - Sospes

Specs: 8 935 words- Teen & Up Audiences - Fluff, getting together, non consensual tattooing, implied/referenced rape, implied/referenced childhood abuse

Summary: “What’s that?” Geralt asks.

Jaskier blinks. “It’s a tattoo,” he says. “Have you never seen a tattoo before, Geralt?”

Geralt fights the urge to roll his eyes. “I know it’s a tattoo,” he says. “What’s it a tattoo of?”

They say there are 5 ways to show your love (and I don’t know any of them) - Mayathelittlebee

Specs: 5 989 words - Teen & Up Audiences - Fluff, humor

Summary: May be if Geralt stopped being so dramatic for a moment he'd finally realize that loving Jaskier is not as hard as he thinks.

I don’t mind if I’m with you - janie_tangerine

Specs: 11 152 words - Explicit - In which Jaskier has to quelle his murder instincts concerning how much Geralt’s life sucks

Summary: or: five times plus one in which Jaskier finds out that Geralt is missing on good life experiences and promptly sees to fix it.

Fill Me Up - Mysticmajestic

Specs: 402 words - Teen & Up Audiences - Romance

Summary: Geralt only knows how to give, and give, until he's empty. What is he to do with Jaskier, who only wants to give back to him?

Little Things - QueenForADay

Specs: 3 315 words - General Audiences - Domestic fluff, Ciri ships it

Summary: In the first few months of knowing the Witcher, he experienced first-hand how shut-off Geralt could be with the world around him and those within it.

At some point, and he can’t pinpoint where, that shroud started to slip away. He saw how much Geralt could, and does, actually care. It’s as fierce as the way he fights.

They spend a great deal of time watching each other; when they finally fell into a bed together, they spent most of their nights learning what the other liked, mapping the plains of skin and muscle underneath the other.

But it’s the other things, the little things, that Jaskier thinks about the most.

O, Empathy - almostnectarine

Specs: 32 624 words - Mature - Body swap, friends to lovers, questfic

Summary: “How did you manage,” asked Geralt, with infinite patience and only a desire to know the facts, and not at all a little meanhearted glee, “to insult a sorcerer while his tongue was down your throat?”

“Don’t make me recount the entire sordid affair, Geralt,” said Jaskier, with a surprising note of desperation breaking through his gruff monotone. “I’m already having a rather shit day and all I’ve done so far is wake up.”

“In my body,” said Geralt.

“Yes,” said Jaskier, with the insolent cadence that was unmistakably Jaskier’s, but in Geralt’s voice, emerging from Geralt’s face and frame.

“And I’ve got yours,” said Geralt, from Jaskier’s.

and for that love to be with men - sebviathan

Specs: 6 734 words -Mature - Emotional constipation, self discovery, self acceptance, geralt is a whole ass gay man who doesn’t know what being gay is

Summary: Something's not right about what I'm doing but I'm still doing it—living in the worst parts, ruining myself. My inner life is a sheet of black glass. If I fell through the floor I would keep falling.

The enormity of Geralt's desire disgusts him.

at last, at last, at last, oh I thought you’d never ask - elegantwings

Specs: 15 040 words - Explicit - Arranged marriage, slow burn, trans!Jaskier, in this house we love Yennefer of Vengerberg

Summary: Geralt is given firm instructions from Vesemir: He is to get married to a Redanian noblewoman in the hopes of improving relations between witchers and the rest of the world. Once the ceremony is over, he plans to drop his new spouse off at their new home and carry on with his life as he always has. Little does he know, his future wife is not a woman, and not so easily left behind. He's not really sure he'd like to get rid of Jaskier, either. Over the next several years, they learn to navigate their new relationship, first while Jaskier completes his degree, and then when Jaskier insists on accompanying him on the road. And no matter what anyone else has to say about it, Geralt is absolutely not in love with his husband.

it’s what my heart just yearns to say - chasing_the_sterek

Specs: 1 071 words - Teen & Up - Slice of life, Jaskier: what if I found a way to make Geralt admit when he needs things

Summary: "If you could have one blessing," Jaskier says, eyes lit green by the fire between them, "What would it be?"

Geralt looks at him. The whetstone is smooth and friction-warm in his palm, edges rounded from use. It's been with him for a long time: almost four years.

Jaskier has been with him for even longer, but he's never done this. Geralt squints at him, but only thing different to this morning is the yellow firelight changing the colour his eyes appear.

"What," he says.

not a goodbye, a thank you - Potrix

Specs: 2 915 words - Mature - Graphic depiction of illness, near death experience, talk about death, found family

Summary: Somewhere further in the courtyard, Lambert yells out a colourful curse while Ciri cackles maniacally. Eskel is taunting the former through his laughter, and Vesemir’s voice joins in with barked commands and corrections once the clang of steel against steel continues. Somewhere above them, on one of the balconies overlooking the yard, Geralt can hear the scratch of quill against parchment as Yennefer works on her correspondence, interrupted every now and again by the tapping of nails against an inkpot.

He realises what’s wrong an instant before everyone else grows suddenly, eerily still; Jaskier is quiet.

After Summers of Fasting (I Feel Hunger At Last) - Artemis_Unbound

Specs: 3 793 words - Teen & Up Audiences - A six pack you can see is not a good thing, Jaskier tricks Geralt into Not Being Starving anymore, Love confessions

Summary: Defined six-pack abs are a sign that someone has been starving and dehydrating themselves, not a sign of incredible strength. It's just not healthy.

Jaskier sees Geralt shirtless for the first time, sees all that defined musculature, and is Horrified. He's slept with enough warriors and soldiers to know what that means. And he decides, this stops now.

Tunes Without Words - foxy_mulder

Specs: 22 021 words - Mature - Self-esteem issues, past abuse, miscommunications, misunderstandings

Summary: The plan is this:

He will note all the things that annoy Geralt, and he will stop doing them, and then Geralt will want him around. It will work.

It has to work, because Jaskier cannot be left behind.

The Path Not Taken - sospes

Specs: 40 149 words - Mature - Extraordinarily bad misunderstanding, Idiots in love, Explicit sexual content

Summary: Jaskier comes across an injured witcher in a backwoods town, months after the events of the dragon hunt. It all just sort of escalates from there.

#The Witcher #Geraskier #Geralt of Rivia #Jaskier #My Posts #Witcher Fic #Fic Rec #Masterpost #100n #150n #200n

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ears-awake-eyes-opened · 4 years

Text

The Gift

(I’m giving some January weather ❄️ to the characters in my July ☀️. This prompt is incredibly sweet, and I realize it didn’t include a request for *coconuts*. That said, sexual content slipped into this fic regardless because ...Hayffie 🔥. Anyway, I hope the ending feels sweet enough to offset other intensities.)

***

After years of hiking up her skirts and unzipping bodices, loosening corsets and slipping them down just enough, unbuckling garters and sliding thongs to the side, they were playing now with nakedness.

Total nakedness.

It had happened a few times, and Effie was still adjusting to the sensations. The vulnerability of her skin fully against his was one thing. Her heart open to him was another.

Their first time face-to-face, unencumbered by clothing was intense. They started kissing and didn’t stop until they came, moaning into each other’s mouths. It was almost too much. The eroticism, the intimacy, the deliciousness all broke down her boundaries. Effie was definitely on board with nakedness DURING sex.

The textures AFTER still felt awkward to her. His body became a furnace, drenching her in sweat, especially when he’d been on top. And she loved having him on top. With her legs wrapped around him, she could take subtle control of the pace, the depth, their closeness.

Complete nakedness was freeing; it was also messy and overwhelming. Having sex with Haymitch had always been contending with chaos, but now...

Now.

“I need to breathe,” she gasped as the pulsing slowed inside her.

He thrust once more, milking the last drops of pleasure, then rolling off of her.

“Fuck. That was...”

“I know. ...God.”

Catching his breath, he slid his hand along her sternum, down to her waist where he curled his fingers around her side.

“Honey, don’t touch me right now. Your hands are sopping fire.”

He let go, still panting. “You’re hot too, sweetheart.”

An anxiety she didn’t understand crept over her. “EVERYTHING is wet. I need to take a shower. We need to change the sheets.”

He chuckled, “I’d say loosen your corset, but I already took it off.”

“Haymitch, don’t tease. You know this is new for me.”

He did know. “It’s kind of like taking your virginity.” He grinned. “Can’t help wanting you wet, and can’t help wanting to touch you when you’re like this.”

Effie scoffed at the notion of herself as a virgin. “That ship sailed over 20 years ago.” Lying apart, she’d cooled enough to reach for his hand and interlace their fingers. “But the sentiment is charming.”

He pulled her knuckles to his lips. “I’ve been a lot of things, but *charming* isn’t one.”

Effie shivered as the moisture evaporated from her skin. She went from hot to cold in body and emotions faster than he could flip a coin. He’d stopped trying to figure her out long ago.

“I’m going to go take a shower. Will you turn up the heater?”

“About that...” Haymitch hesitated, knowing she’d be pissed. “The heater wouldn’t turn on this morning.”

Effie sat straight up, dropped his hand and glared. He tried to stay focused on her eyes rather than the beads of sweat dripping between her breasts. His attention was divided.

“It’s January! There’s snow on the ground, and your heater is broken?! Couldn’t you have mentioned that detail BEFORE I got on the train? You could have come to my apartment instead, then we’d be warm right now!”

“We warmed up real good on our own, honey. ...Besides, the train was already halfway here by the time I woke up today.”

“So he says — an hour before we die from hypothermia!”

Haymitch reached for her waist again. His hand was still warm, and this time she welcomed the touch.

“Let’s take a shower and talk about all the things we can do tonight to prevent hypothermia.”

“You think this is amusing!”

“We have a fireplace, wood in the shed, a forest next door, and a town full of coal. This is 12. We can manage a weekend without a furnace.” He spoke gently, tracing circles on her hip.

Her anxiousness lessened, but she was still vexed at him for not waking up before noon and for not knowing how to repair a furnace. Though in all these years, annoyance had never stopped her from wanting more of him.

“The water better be warm.” She reached for his hand and pulled him up with her.

***

Effie’s teeth chattered later as she rummaged through her bag with towels wrapped around her body and her hair.

“I brought nothing warm to wear!”

Haymitch lazed on the edge of the bed, avoiding the spots where the sheets were still damp. “What about the 5 layers of clothes I took off when you walked through the door?”

“That’s outside attire.” Effie was miffed by his unyielding ignorance regarding even the most basic matters of fashion. A pair of leggings was the best she could find. “I wasn’t exactly planning on wearing much inside.”

“Sorry the furnace fucked up such a fine plan.” He was enjoying the view of her wearing nothing but towels, but he didn’t want her shaking, at least not from cold. “Let’s get you warm. Look through my drawers and wear anything you want. I’ll go make coffee and build a fire.”

Effie looked wary. She was all too familiar with the limits of his wardrobe. Though she did slip on his shirts when he left them at her place. They smelled like him and felt like him and, though she wouldn’t admit it, they helped ease the loneliness she always experienced after he’d gone.

He caressed her ass through the towel. “...Or you can just wear this all evening. You choose.”

She turned her head and kissed him as he passed her on his way out. She just got here, and she hated the loneliness she was already anticipating at the thought of leaving tomorrow. She refused to waste this time together fuming about a broken heater.

She closed each drawer quickly after opening it. “All your clothes are grey!” she hollered downstairs, “Grey is not even a color!”

He muttered under his breath, “Grey is too a goddamn color.” Then he hollered back up to her. “Feel free to stay in the towel!”

She opened the drawers again and dug deeper, determined to find something she hadn’t seen at first glance. A white sleeve poked out from between layers of grey. Effie pulled out the shirt and recognized it immediately, though she hadn’t seen it in years. He’d worn it the night before the third Quarter Quell — the first time he kissed her, as she was falling apart.

She slipped it on now over bare breasts and snuggled up in the memory and the scent of him. The shirt was soft and thin. She needed another layer, a sweater maybe. She kept digging.

In the back of the bottom drawer she felt something velvet and silky. A blazer perhaps? Reaping Day attire? Why would Haymitch of all people hold on to something like that? As she pulled it out, she realized it wasn’t a jacket but a shawl — a red velvet shawl, embroidered with swirls of golden thread and trimmed with silk. The fabric was old, smooth and beautiful. It smelled like cedar laid over memories.

Effie felt a degree of reverence as she slipped the shawl over her shoulders, hoping it wouldn’t fall apart. The construction proved to be sturdy, clearly hand-sewn by a talented seamster.

What meaning did this have for Haymitch to keep in a dresser in his bedroom? “Look through my drawers and wear anything you want,” he’d said. Could he possibly have meant this glorious piece of art? Effie intended to find out.

A pair of his thick woolen socks completed the ensemble with her leggings, his shirt, and the shawl. Effie blow dried her hair, and applied light layers of mascara and lipstick. Then she followed the fragrance of coffee downstairs.

The house was already warming up from the fire burning in the hearth. Haymitch was mixing their coffee with shots of bourbon and spoonfuls of honey and cream. With his back to her he asked, “Did you find some color?”

“That depends... Is this okay?”

***

He turned around and saw her.

He flashed back to winter mornings in the Seam when coal burned in the stove of his childhood. As the house grew warm, his mother would take off her shawl and drape it across the back of the rocking chair. His little brother would toddle out in footed pajamas, climb up in the chair and wrap up in the shawl.

“Careful, dear, that’s precious to Mama,” she’d say, “But not as precious as my boys.” She’d kiss Haymitch on his forehead as he brought eggs in from the goose house. “Wipe that snow off your boots before stepping off the mat. This house may not be much, but we don’t need to be entirely uncivilized. Then she’d sit with his brother in her lap and rock him a few times until the griddle was hot enough to fry the eggs.

When these kinds of memories showed up, they usually kicked him in the teeth, but Effie looking all beautiful softened the blow. A swallow of bourbon helped too.

“I wasn’t sure...” Seeing the pain now in his expression, she felt she’d made a mistake. “I can go change...”

He crossed the kitchen in three steps, kissed her forehead, then buried his face in her hair. He held her tight, and she returned the pressure of his embrace, feeling how much he needed this connection. She held him in silence, asking no questions.

“This is precious,” he said, not letting go of her.

“The shawl?”

He pulled back just enough to see her face, and nodded. “...But not as precious as my girl.”

My girl?... My girl... The words echoed in her chest. She felt them pushing and drawing out something new. “...Me?”

“Nobody else, sweetheart.”

For once in her life, Effie was speechless.

“No expectations,” Haymitch clarified, “I just don’t wanna feel this shit and pretend like I don’t.”

She’d loved him from her earliest memories, all the while pretending with other words and fucking other men who didn’t matter.

“I don’t want to pretend either.” She tasted the whiskey on his tongue. There was nothing simple about this. “I don’t want to be naked with anyone else. I don’t want anybody else inside me.”

He wanted to be inside her again, right now, on the sofa in front of the fire, but there was more to consider. “Are you warm enough? Did you eat on the train or are you hungry? Peeta brought over some fancy things.”

“Come here,” she said, easing away from him and moving toward the counter. She added a few items to the platter of Peeta’s croissants: butter, a knife, and the jar of honey. “Bring the drinks and follow me.”

Haymitch put the bottle of bourbon in the crook of his elbow and held the mugs of coffee in his hands.

She led them to the sofa. Mind reader, he thought.

She pulled an end table between them and the fireplace and laid down the platter. Before he could set the drinks beside it, she chastised him. “Coasters!”

“Coasters?” Fuck. She always did know how to delay a mood. “Not sure where they are.”

Effie went back to the kitchen and searched the cabinets for saucers. Those would substitute in a pinch. “We might be without central heating, but we don’t need to be entirely uncivilized.”

The coffee was still too hot to drink, so she curled up next to him on the sofa. He traced the golden swirls down her arm, caressing her through the velvet. “This shawl was my mother’s.”

She rested her head on his shoulder. “I wondered.”

“She sewed all of our clothes.”

“She was an incredible seamstress. This stitching is remarkable.”

“Nobody’s worn that in 30 years. ...I wrapped up in it once, after they were killed. But the memories were too painful, so I put it away. Never took it out again.”

“Haymitch...” She covered his hand with hers. “If I’d known, I never would have... Should I put it back?”

“No, honey. Such a pretty thing shouldn’t be in a drawer. You’re giving it life again.”

“Life has these ways of sleeping, you know? Sometimes I think there’s nothing left, and then suddenly it’s filling me up again.”

I feel it when you’re here, he didn’t say.

I don’t want to leave tomorrow, she didn’t say either.

They weren’t pretending, and they weren’t being entirely open either. Nakedness takes time to reach its full expression.

***

The next day Effie folded the shawl and laid it at the foot of the bed. She dressed in her layers of *outside attire* and took the train back to her heated apartment and her sleeping life.

She unzipped her bag and found inside a brown paper sack, haphazardly crumpled shut. On the outside, Haymitch had written, “Stay warm.”

Effie opened the sack more carefully than it had been closed. She pulled out a piece of notepaper folded in half. On the front he’d written, “For my girl.” She flipped the paper open, and the note within read, “It’s yours. Thanks for making me feel alive. — H”

She knew what she’d find at the bottom of the sack. Red velvet swirling with gold. She could barely see it through her tears. It held fragrances now of coffee and whiskey, croissants with honey, and Haymitch’s hands on her. She slipped the shawl over her shoulders. It was almost too much.

It was perfect.

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