#i just wanted to draw him with a guitar and a ponytail let's be so real abt this

[nightsi]

college

#rayman #captain laserhawk #his degree was in journalism imo #i just wanted to draw him with a guitar and a ponytail let's be so real abt this

[plistommy]

Eddie likes to draw a lot.

He doodles on everything, his school books, magazines, his guitars or even his own hands.

He drew his tattoos for himself before getting them.

Steve thinks he’s really talented, and loves to stare at Eddie drawing for hours, but Eddie is still a bit shy about it, so Steve doesn’t sometimes get to see what he has drawn.

But one day when he was going to Eddie’s room to get his boyfriend's hoodie for himself - thanks to winter and its cold weather - he accidentally knocked Eddie’s sketchbook to the floor.

Couple of pages dropped out of it and as they were all spread out, Steve realized they were all drawings.

Drawings of him.

He crunched down to pick them up, but couldn’t keep his curiosity at bay and before he knew it, he was going through all of them.

Eddie made him look so… pretty.

He drew his face, his smile, his eyes so beautifully that Steve couldn’t even believe that the drawing’s were of him. Eddie even remembered all of his moles.

A dopey smile creeped up to his face as he went through them all, piling them back into a neat pile to put back inside the sketchbook. But when he picked up the last one, his eyes grew wide and he felt himself going red from head to toe.

There were several sketches of him, of his nude body with ringed hands, Eddie’s hands, touching him. One was of him laid on his stomach with a soft look on his face, but then the second one was more… intimate.

It was of him, legs spread wide and dick resting thick and hard on his stomach while a finger was pushing inside him. His face was scrunched up, mouth open in a ‘o’ shape and the knowledge that Steve probably looked like that when Eddie was doing it for him made him bite down onto his bottom lip.

He flipped the paper around and a whine got caught in his throat as he stared down to a drawing of him riding Eddie.

They had never done that before. But now, he really, really wanted to do it.

”Steve?”

Steve’s head snapped up to stare at Eddie, who was staring down back at him with a worried look.

He was leaning against the door frame, hair up in a ponytail and old band shirt on, looking like a dream, but when he saw what was going on, his eyes grew wide.

”Shit, sorry!” he panicked, crunching down next to Steve. He snatched the drawings and his sketchbook away from him and hid them under his mixtapes, acting like Steve hadn’t already seen all of them.

He was letting out these small apologies and Steve had no idea what he had to even apologize for, but when he saw Eddie blushing and not being able to catch his eyes, Steve understood that he was embarrassed.

”I didn’t, um - you didn’t mean to see those… sorry.”

Steve just stared at him dumbfoundedly before letting out a soft laugh and getting up. He moved his hands to Eddie’s face and held them there.

”I dropped it accidentally and I was the one snooping around, Eddie. I’m the one who should be apologizing, not you.”

Eddie sighed. He still couldn’t meet Steve’s eyes and it made him frown.

”You’re not creeped out?”

That question surprised Steve.

”Of the drawings? No, Eds. I think they’re cool.”

Then, Eddie finally looked at him with the biggest puppy eyes ever and Steve wanted to kiss him.

”You sure? I didn’t know what you’d think about them. I know they're a bit—”

”Amazing? Incredible?” Steve smiled softly and pushed Eddie’s bangs back, ”You’re so talented, babe. I don’t think I’ve ever seen myself like the way you draw me. I like it.”

Eddie looked like he was offended and pinched Steve’s hip, ”You are really pretty, sweetheart” he reassured Steve with a smile.

”Yeah, yeah. Says you.” Steve smiled and Eddie snorted a little before leaning in to kiss him.

When they pulled apart, both out of breath, a small grin grew to Steve’s face as he tugged Eddie’s hair, letting it fall out from it’s lazy ponytail.

”I have an idea…”

”And what’s that?”

Steve grinned more.

”Can I ride you?”

Eddie’s breath hitched and Steve laughed loudly as his boyfriend looked at him like he’d grown another head.

He loved to rile his boyfriend up, and this was the perfect time for that.

”You… really?” Eddie sounded so out of breath, more than he was before.

”I think it would look pretty great, right?” Steve purred, glancing towards the hidden pile of drawings, Eddie’s gaze following his.

All Eddie could do was answer a breathy ’Fuck yeah’ before Steve was pushing him down to the bed and straddling his hips.

Eddie didn’t hide his drawings anymore after that.

#steddie #Eddie thought he was a creep drawing Steve like that without consent whatsoever but Steve’s like ’’HELL YEAH’’ instead LMAO #Is it canon that Eddie draws? #Eddie would totally draw #Always doing these small doodles when he’s bored #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steddie headcanon #eddie munson draws #my writing #hc #headcanon #text #stranger things 4 #Lemon #If typos no there isnt #LOL

[jaimetout]

I'm guilty of loving band!aus... Maybe it's not the most STS question ever, but could you force your blorbos to play in one band? What music would they play? Who would play what instrument? Who would sing? Is one of them a token manager who can't music for the life of theirs?

STS is Storyteller Saturday, one of the weekly writeblr games! There's also WBW (world building Wednesday), Blorbosday on Thursdays (I can't remember its full name lmao) and Flash Fiction Friday (organized by @flashfictionfridayofficial). If you don't want those asks, please, let me know <3 I'm trying to be friendly in my awkward way ok

Hmmm good questions... I don't know who I would qualify as my blorbos but probably Bakugo Katsuki, Aoyama Yuuga, Iida Tenya and Uraraka Ochako.

Buckle in because I like to write as much as I like to talk.

They would form the most chaotic band of all time but I feel like they might be some experimental group that mixes several genres according to each of their tastes and abilities. Bakugo would probably want to make more noise/scream music, Iida would be the one incorporating more traditional instruments (I bet he would handmake them as well). Uraraka seems like a ponytail pop listener but I think she would be the one that really resonates with strong vocals and has a good technique to create a psych sort of sound. The most difficult to define would be Aoyama, I think maybe his flamboyant nature would draw him towards more classical instruments, I can totally picture him adding a violin solo adlib to their ten minute song. The overall genre would probably fall in rock/metal subgenres.

Although in canon Bakugo is a drum player, I think he'd learn the electronic guitar and pre-record the drums so they can put in as a backtrack. Uraraka would be the lead singer, and maybe percussionist from time to time, along with Bakugo's dedicated screaming. Generally, Iida would play cord instruments such as a sort of harp but he would also like to switch it up with some wind instruments. Aoyama might add in his own vocals as add libs when he isn't playing the guitar or the violin.

Albeit they all play instruments, I feel like most of them might be good at managing duties and just share responsibilities but if I had to name one of them as the top dog it would be Iida. He's very neat and tidy so he would organise and coordinate everything. Social media would be Aoyama's treasure, he'd be filming all of them to make silly videos for their fans. Uraraka's love for financial stability would lead her to take over everything related to tickets, goodies and her friendly nature would make her the best person to meet with potential employers and volunteers. Bakugo's perfectionist habits would make him the person that sets up their instruments and the scene and makes sure Iida won't trip over the cords once they're playing and he has to take off his glasses for Aoyama's aesthetic videos.

As for your asks and friendliness they're very welcome. I'm never too sure what I can and cannot do according to societal norms so it's nice to have someone welcome me in this new world!

#bnha bakugou #bnha headcannons

[1eaf-me-alone]

Hello! May I request for a matchup? Preferably male, romantic or platonic is up to you.

Personality traits : I am an introvert. I prefer to spend my free time at home. However, I also don't have a problem going out as long as I am accompanied with someone I am close with. However, I can't stand being in a large crowd for too long when alone. I am also easily amused and laugh fairly easily. I can be outgoing with close peers, but I am more timid with people I rarely spoke to especially of a different age. I am also more of a listener than a speaker. Whenever someone asks for help, I can't refuse :'), so my peers described me as helpful. I would often overwork or overestimate my abilities because of this, but in the end I managed.

Hobbies : I draw! I also like reading when I feel like relaxing a bit more. If I feel tired, I like to listen to some music, but if I feel restless I would surf through the Internet.

Interests : Art, music, books, video editing, writing, learning new languages, documentaries (wildlife, true crime, science)

Appearance : I have medium length, wavy black hair that stretches to just under my shoulders. I would often tie it into a ponytail or a bun when I work. I stand at a height of around 5'5~5'6. I have chocolate brown roundish-almond eyes.

Additional info in my mind : let's see... I often have people telling me that I look stoic and stern due to my resting face. However it's probably because the most sleep I could get is 4 hours, 5 hours if I am lucky enough. I also find myself unable to respond with expressions accordingly sometimes, so my friends have to rely on my vocal tone to understand. Sometimes it is the other way around. I have a big appetite! I am always willing to finish my friends' meal when they couldn't (when offered, of course). I am a night owl, so during holidays I can stay awake well into sunrise. I take naps throughout the day, holiday or not. My favourite animals are cats, dogs and birds. Any types are fascinating to me. If I could, I want to pick up martial arts again and learn how to play the piano and accoustic guitar.

Phew, hope there's not too much information. Don't push yourself, have a great day and take care!

your match is…. Albedo and Yanfei

I know you didn’t ask for two but I’ll write you Yanfei for platonic and Albedo for romantic

Albedo:

Both of you are Introverts

you enjoy going out with him as you’re close to him. You love spending quality time with Albedo whether it be staying at home just to watch a movie together

Whenever you’re with Albedo he always makes you laugh and smile- you’ll find yourself rolling in bed as you giggle like a small child.

you seem to always be amused whenever Albedo does something and you love to watch him paint - maybe the two of you could draw together (and somehow end up drawing each other)

If you’re timid around new people then there’s no need to worry- Albedo spends most his time in Dragonspine where you find yourself seeing 2 people or so a year

you prefer to listen rather than speak and so Albedo speaks for you if you would so much prefer- that or you would both just stay in respectful silence.

Albedo would love to share your hobbies like drawing going on internet, listening to music, reading books, learning new languages- he might even try do them with you

loves your Resting bitchface

You have a big appetite- maybe he could cook for you

As you stay up late maybe Albedo will try persuade you to go to sleep later (as he’s worried for you) and you can’t do anything about it because you’re a big push over and can’t refuse

Maybe the two of you could learn martial arts, piano and guitar together?

— — — — — — —

Albedo looked at his drawing - making sure to encapsulate how perfect you looked in real life. With a flick of his pencil he drew your black hair which was tied into a ponytail, he looked into your chocolate- brown almond eyes. You were beautiful.

Yanfei:

For a platonic relationship I think you’re looking for an extrovert- someone who can talk a lot whilst you can just be there to listen

has a sense of humour to make you feel better and laugh (that’s what friends are for)

Someone more outgoing and helps you get confident in social interactions

never shuts up- and you don’t mind that

hence why I picked Yanfei

both of you overwork and you both know that and both try tell the other to work less (hypocrites)

Yanfei is such a fun and amazing friend to be around and she’s there in good and bad times.

both of you stopping whenever you see a dog or cat to go pet it commenting on how adorable it is

makes you feel more confident

if Yanfei doesn’t eat the whole meal she will give it to you to eat as you have a big appetite :)

both of you are there for each other whenever need be

doesn’t mind that you can’t respond with emotions accordingly as she’s used to it and can tell how you’re feeling and what you’re thinking

if she sees that your tired she will be there to make you laugh

if she sees that you’re not ok and you’re having a tough she’ll postpone her work to be with you.

she’s such a fun friend to be around and you deeply enjoy spending time with her. It makes you so happy and you’ve never laughed as much as you do with her.

— — — — — — —

“hey are you even listening??”

“huh of course I am”

(Yanfei had been talking about her recent detective case for the last hour whilst you had slowly zoned out. )

you looked back at Yanfei. Guilty being written all over you

Yanfei turned, a devilish smile on her face as she began to tickle you - both of you laughing as you fell on the floor together.

I hope you enjoyed reading this @reisteasstuff :)

well that’s all with the nineteenth ask. I am SO SORRY this took way too long to do. I had severe writes block and no motivation (also got overwhelmed by the amount of asks I got) so I’m sorry this took a while. I wanted to write something of good quality even if it took longer to get done.

I want to apologise to everyone who sent an ask a little more than a month or so ago. I had severe’s writer’s block, next to no motivation and overwhelmed by the sheer amount of asks I had received

#Albedo #albedo x reader #albedo fluff #albedo x y/n #albedo x you #yanfei #yanfei x reader #yanfei genshin impact #albedo genshin impact #so sorry #Asks #genshin #asks #ask event

[thehollylujah]

Munson?

Summary: Steve is rebuilding slowly after everything that has happened, trying desperately to ignore the looming threat of Vecna. He finally began to accept that Eddie’s gone, no matter what he realized his heart felt. Unless he’s not.

Even though this isn’t technically NSFW, I still don’t want people under 16 interacting.

Warnings: panic attacks, coming to terms with sexuality, death, brief mention of blood.

This is really just the buildup to Steddie content. I’m not good with writing slow burn, but that kinda feels like where this is going. Sorry to anyone who just wants smut. Me too.

He jerked awake, eyes snapping open, his hands reaching out to grab for anything to give some indication he wasn't wrapped in Vecna's vines. He felt his palm come in contact with a figure wrapped in a quilt, and remembered with a jolt where he was.

Robin jerked as his hand hit her hip and quickly sat up, reaching to turn the lamp on on the bedside table. 

Steve felt a wave of relief wash over him as his room at his house was illuminated, the singular lightbulb casting shadows all throughout the room.

"Nightmare?" Robin stretched, yawning softly as she waited for his reply.

Steve nodded, the adrenaline from the dream still pumping through his body.

"You wanna talk about it?" Steve turned to her, blood still rushing in his ears. Her hair was half up, half down, coming out of he ponytail and sticking in every direction. He shrugged, shifting back to rest against his headboard, head thumping against his wall, willing her to stop looking at him with the concern and empathy always etched into her features after nights like this.

"The vines one. I always feel like I can't breathe when that one happens."

Robin sighed, joining him, pressing her side to his. "I think that's what a professional would call a panic attack."

Steve huffed, the phantom feeling of the vines tightening around his throat returning for a millisecond. They sat in silence, Steve willing his heart to slow, listening to Robin's slow and languid breathing as she dozed, head resting on his shoulder.

"I need to get up and walk, I'll be back." He nudged her head up with his shoulder, throwing the covers off of him. Robin huffed, sitting up straighter before resting her head against the wall. Steve felt a rush of cold air against his legs, forcing another wave of consciousness to roll through his body.

"Won't go to sleep until you're back, but you know that." Steve nodded, blinking the remaining sleep from his eyes as he exited his room.

He found his feet leading him downstairs, mind racing back to the past two week.

He and Robin had been staying together, both for comfort during bad nights and to carpool together to the school gym to help with the community effort to rebuild. His house had remained miraculously untouched by the tears in Hawkins, so it became a place for not only Robin to stay, but any of the kiddos who needed to get away.

Dustin had taken the offer immediately, comedically crawling out of his window most nights at midnight to join Robin, Steve, and whatever kiddos were left to watch movies on the DVR and eat as much shitty food as they could to ignore the looming upside down and Vecna around them. 

Steve was rocketed back to the night the world split open, finding Dustin sitting right beside the tear in the ground, right where Eddie's trailer had stood. He had curled into a ball as he sobbed and screamed for Eddie, clutching his guitar pick necklace so hard it had begun to draw blood. Steve had had to pick Dustin up and carry him back to his house, fighting his own tears at the idea that Eddie was dead, his body still left to rot in the upside down.

It had taken them days to get everyone back where they needed to be. Nancy and Mike had to leave their house, and Lucas rarely left Max's side at the hospital, much to his parents displeasure. It had taken a day for Dustin to finally calm down enough to return to his parents, still refusing to let go of Eddie's pick necklace. But once Steve was able to finally relax for even a moment, he sat down with Robin.

He remembers the emotions roiling in his gut as he told her everything through tears, guilt and fury burning in his chest. He had broken down, the understanding that Eddie was gone finally settling on him like a thousand pounds.

He told her about his first feelings for a guy, the shame of somehow being attracted to both Johnathan and Nancy. The return of that same feeling with the 'Freak of Hawkins'. How he had tried to tamp it down, ignore it in favor of shoving himself back into dating any girl that would give him the time of day.

She had listened patiently, her normal quick banter and jabs at him disappearing like fog in the sun.

When he had finished, frozen in fear of her response, she had simply stood and hugged him, letting him breathe out a wet sob before crying into her shoulder. 

He still sometimes couldn't rationalize that Eddie was gone, body left on the ground, torn apart by Demobats. His brain could not rationalize that he was here one moment and gone the next.

He was snapped out of his morbid train of thought when he heard a soft patter of footsteps in his kitchen. He stiffened, throat tightening up.

"Dustin? That you?"

No response. A cold crept up his spine as he inched forward, hand reaching for whatever he could find to fend off whatever was in his kitchen. 

His hands wrapped around his bat, propped up at the end of his stairs, and he hefted it up as he inched forward into the kitchen. He turned the corner, ready to swing.

And came face to face with Eddie Munson.

 Steve's guard dropped for a moment, brows furrowing as he took in Eddie. Blood was smeared on his face and his hair was wild, his eyes bloodshot and a feral look etched into his features.

"Munson?"

He didn't have time to react before hands were around his chest, wrapping around his torso as Eddie lunged towards him, hitting him so hard he had to rock back to keep himself from falling over.

His voice sounded ragged and soft. "Steve?"

#stranger things #steve harrington #steddie kinda? #Steddie #robin buckley #babysitter steve Harrington #kas!eddie #dustin henderson #post s4 fix it #I’m gonna fix it. mark my words

[justheretoreadfanfictions12]

The Love You Want - Part 2

Sleep Token Fanfiction, the story begins

I hardly slept last night, Vessel's words are still in my head. "I hope you won't change me too much". What is that supposed to mean? What is he trying to tell me?

I grab my bag & head to the gym, I just want to get this out of my head. Entering the gym I immediately hear a familiar voice: "Iris, my god, what are you doing here?" I turn around & spot all three boys, unmasked, just Vessel is missing. I start getting nervous, is he here? Will I see him without a mask? They come up to me, II says quietly: "Now we can introduce ourselves without a mask, but please don't call us by band names, no one knows us here & we don't want that to change." I nod, that's absolutely understandable. II pulls me aside, he's inches away from my face. "Let me introduce myself properly, I'm Alex, III is Dan, IV is Ryle, Vessel will have to do this himself, he's extremely careful with unmasking. He isn't even here today, he never trains in public gyms because someone may recognize him one day." I smile at all of them ,I feel honoured that they share this with me. "Nice to meet you Alex, Dan & Ryle, I'm Iris" I joke & the boys start laughing, they are so pure.

We actually share a really nice workout, then we all head back home. I still have work to do that I couldn't finish last night & I spend the rest of the day in front of my laptop, planning, drawing, deleting pages of notes i scribbled down just to rewrite them. When afternoon rolls around, I grab a snack & start getting ready. Something inside of me is telling me to doll up tonight, not for myself, I want to impress Vessel. Why is he still in my head so much? He's been stopping me from sleeping or concentrating on my work. he dark silver eyes, his bright smile when we were sitting in his car last night, he is so precious, yet he's hiding something from me. He isn't opening up like the others. I push my thoughts aside, throw on a pair of black leather shorts, a tight black sweater, I make sure to wear a purple lace bra beneath that shows underneath the deep neckline of the sweater. I really want to look hot tonight, so I grab a pair of lace stockings, black with purple lace on top. Boots, leather jacket, my hair in a high ponytail, I can see every man losing his mind seeing me in this outfit but I don't care, I only want HIM to find me attractive.

I arrive at the concert hall, giving security my backstage pass, sliding through the crew until I hear quiet piano music & singing. The boys are all in one room, I can hear their voices, Alex' laugh, Dan's guitar, Ryle is screaming something, then I listen closer. Vessel is singing quietly, it sounds beautiful. I enter the room, Ryle is the first one to spot me. He breathes in, looks at me & says: "Iris, hey, wow, you look stunning. You truly are every metal fan's dream woman" & gives me quick hug. I smile at him, greeting the others with hugs, then I turn to Vessel, he is masked as always. He is still playing piano, but his eyes aren't on the instrument, they are on me. He is glued to my thighs, looking at my stockings, up to my chest, I can feel myself blushing. He looks back at his piano, sighs, stops playing & his eyes command me to get closer. I walk towards him, Dan says: "oh i wouldn't distract him now." but Vessel raises his hand, telling him it's fine. He is painted black, wearing his typical stage outfit. A black robe, no shirt beneath, black pants, I can hardly focus on anything except for his bare chest. He walks closer to me, gives me a hug, a long one, not a platonic one like his band colleagues just did. He breathes me in. He runs his fingers down my back. He kisses my cheek softly. Suddenly he pulls away, my back aches for his hands to touch it again. "Iris, good to see you. I hope you haven't been up working all night." he says. I shake my head, then I say: "well, I did work most of the night but I also got some sleep". I can see him smirking for a split second. Then he goes back to his usual serious look. "I need to get back to rehearsing, I hope you will have fun at tonight's show" he says & steps back. I don't turn back around immediately, I watch him slide his fingers over his keyboard, playing with the sounds coming from it. He looks back up, meeting my eyes through his mask. We look at each other for what feels like hours, until I can finally move my body again & turn back to the others. They all look at me confused. "Did he just speak to you, Iris? What kinds of superpowers do you have? He never speaks while getting ready for a show." Alex says. "I guess." I reply. I can feel their eyes wandering to my cheek, did they see him kiss it?

I make my way to the front row, security is escorting me there, it feels like I'm a celebrity. While walking there i catch a glimpse of myself in the mirrors hanging backstage. My cheek is black, my chest hast a black stain, his bodypaint is all over me & the thought of removing it feels wrong. I want to be covered in his paint, I want people to see it, I want to belong to him.

They open the show with their song Chokehold, as they have been doing for all shows through Europe. It's one my favourites, I let myself get carried away in their music. Time flies by, I try not to focus on Vessel too much, his slender fingers gliding down the mic stand, his bare chest moving up & down as he sings, his deep voice, the way he makes eye contact with me at least once in every single song they perform. I'm totally focused on him, who am I trying to fool? When the show is over, he bows down, looking over the crowd, then he looks at me, i can't hear the noise around me anymore, it's absolutely quiet, the room is so silent that it scares me. His mouth forms a silent "thank you", then they get off stage. I'm ready to leave, when I get a call. Unknown number. I pick up & a familiar voice says: "Iris, I hope you can hear me. We are planning on having a little afterparty with the crew, do you want to join us? Just head backstage real quick & we can talk about it." Ryle says. I make my way backstage where all of them are sitting on couches, they look exhausted. The only free space is next to Vessel. I feel my cheeks heat up when Dan says: "Come sit with us!" & points next to Vessel. All of them are masked, but shirtless. The room feels hot, sweaty, I can't help but feel a little aroused by that. I sit down next to Vessel, his body is leaning into the right side of the small couch, sweat is dripping from his chest, removing parts of the black bodypaint. He looks at me, spots the dark patches of paint he has left on my body & smiles. He likes marking me as his.

5 hours have passed, we have all had a few drinks, music is playing when Dan starts playing on his bass guitar & shouts: "Iris, let's do karaoke, what do you want to sing?" I laugh, shake my head & try to tell him off but Ryle gets his guitar & joins in. He says: "Tell us a song, you will be our lead singer tonight!" I blush, I haven't ever really sang in front of people, especially in front of a band like them. "Guys, I can't sing!" I shout. Vessel turns around, looks at me, then at the boys & says: "Bullshit, you can definitely sing." Nobody question him for knowing what my voice sounds like when I sing. So I sigh & say: "Play me The Apparition." They look at me surprised, give me a sign & start playing. I know this song better than I know myself. I start singing quietly, when all the others stop talking & listen to me. Vessel is standing in the corner of the room, not taking any attention away from me, making himself look small. Then I give him a sign to join me, he shakes his head but I walk towards him. The refrain is starting soon, I want him to sing it with me. He gives in, kneels down in front of me & shouts: "Why are you never real?" We are shaking our heads, dancing around in the small backstage room, I grab Dan's mask & pull him towards me, I get on my knees, praying to him because he is a guitar god, when he pulls me back up. I try to grab his neck, just like the boys always do on stage, being a little flirty with each other, when he says: "Sorry Iris, I respect Vessel too much to do this." & steps away from me. He respects Vessel too much? What does that mean? What does Vessel have to do with me fake flirting with other band members? I turn back around, Vessel is looking at me, he looks satisfied. He gives Dave a quick look, nods his head & grabs my hand. "Sing with me again, Iris."

#sleep token fanfiction #vessel sleep token #sleep token #sleep token iv #fanfiction #fanfic #vessel

[therapy-ghost]

Hello, thank you so much for doing this for me. Here's info about me :

My name is Gabriela, but they call me Gabby, Magik, Luna, Crazy one, Gabi. I'm 16 years old girl from Slovakia 🇸🇰, Libra and 5'9 ft tall. I am an only child.

I have brown eyes, dirty blonde hair to my shoulders, I wear black glasses and I have cute gap in my teeth. I'm tall and slim. I have little freckles.

I have Russian accent since I'm half Russian and half Slovak. Yep, Russian and Slovak are my native languages.

My personality: Introvert, calm, funny, smart, logic, hotheaded, sensitive, polite, nice, kind, loving, passionate, cold, and honest. I'm loyal to my friends and family but I have really short tempert. I'm sassy and flirty and self-confident. I'm vengeful, flirty, manipulative ( I hate when I'm manipulative). I'm a good person and a loyal friend.

My sarcastic comments just like to be notifed ya know. My biggest skill is : LEADERSHIP. Sometimes I make inappropiate comments against others.

Despite my strong personality, I still have fears that I didn't overcome, like fear from heights, clowns, dark, and when someone is raising hand on me even in a good manner, I will flinche and step away from fear.

I love libraries and chemical labs.

Meditation is such a bullshit to me.

I wear mostly Dark clothes. Black and blue and purple are my fav colors. I like to wear chokers, headbands and I love to wear my hair down or in a bun or a ponytail.

When I speak Russian and I wanna speak in English to someone, my English is messy, Idk why.

I have my black headphones 24/7. Even when I'm writing this, I have 'em on and I listen to music. Music is my happy place, my own world and I listen to musíc mostly when I want to ignore everyone. So at first, when I'm meeting someone new, I will ignore them and have sassy comments. I just don't let my trust down so easily.

I love to play on guitar and piano, sing, listen to music, read books, draw, dance. I'm a bookworm and I just can't imagine my life without book and music. I love Science and History. I love universe too.

People say that I'm just like Magik from new mutants.

People say that's it so cute when I push my glasses up and when I laugh and smile. Idk why but спасибо большое ❤️.

Why that nickname crazy one? Well I'm allergic to sunlight, and I can't go out at day only at night. I don't sleep cause of Insomnia and I don't eat because when I eat too much, I feel like I'm going to throw up. Not a best feeling. I'm literally a VAMPIRE. I have white skin and fangs.

I have one adoptive brother Casey. He's 16 and he's just like BAYMIKEY. Soo annoying but we love each other. We have separate bedrooms and we always speak in Russian

I have breakdowns cause of my grandfather. He does 4 years ago and it's do painful for me.

I have a lot of nightmares.

That's everything. Thank you so much ❤️❤️.

Hello, and thank you for doing this with me, but here is your match up.

I match you up with: Donnie

The two of you have pretty similar interest that would allow you to bound a lot easier than the rest.

Teach him a few words in Russian and he will use them, either on his family and friends, or you.

he will also like to hear you play the guitar in the background of his work shop.

sitting in each others silence is something he will enjoy, and then put some light music in the background and *chefs kiss*

please listen to him rumble too, its much appreciated by his brothers.

insomnia is a thing that is also in his life, so you dont have to be alone.

purple duo?

he is a very vanilla dude when it to physical touch, holding hands, cuddles, and cheek kisses.

but really, you to are pretty much perfect(in my opinion)

Thank you for this exchange and i hope you liked it.

#TMNT Match up #Match up Exchange

[kazewhara]

good morning, sunshine. (2)

good morning, sunshine (1) feat. kazuha

# — pairing: diluc x gn!reader

# — characters: gender neutral reader, diluc

# — summary: before dawn, at the winery.

# — warnings: mentions of blood, past injuries/scars

# — tags: fluff, waking up with diluc, physical hurt/comfort

# — notes: i can't shake this idea of waking up beside diluc. like whenever lone sojourner comes on, i'm just. i'm there with diluc. i'm gonna practice piano again so i can play the dawn winery songs. also this type of music.. does anyone else get the feeling that diluc can play guitar? no? just me? okay. anywho, as always, reblogs and reactions are always appreciated, and i hope you enjoy!

# — song(s): hide and seek ; ib ost , blind alley ; ib ost

✧ — 🔥 — ✧

what wakes you isn't the rising sun.

what wakes you is the shuffling of your fiancé as he sits on the edge of the bed as he struggles with something unseen. diluc had promised you he would be out for the night -- he's always out at night -- but that he would be back a little before dawn.

he has never, not once, ever broken that promise to you. it's become routine for you to wake to the sight of diluc resting peacefully beside you. sometimes he'd be awake, other times he isn't; but he's always there, asleep or not. you usually found comfort in seeing his blazing hair tangling itself on his pillow.

today, however, is a little different.

"luc'..?" you mumble as you blink the sleep out of your eyes. it's not too unusual for him to be up before you, but the hunch in his shoulders is as clear as day, even in the dim light. "darling, are you alright?"

diluc freezes at the sound of your voice. he's shirtless, you notice, and he's not facing you. his hair is up in a high ponytail; did he just return, then? he turns his head to face you, the ghost of a smile on his lips. "did i wake you?" he reaches back a bit to stroke the side of your face. "i'm sorry, love. i didn't mean to."

you make a noise in your chest. "s'fine, i would've been up soon anyways." you ease yourself into a sitting position, squinting when diluc's shoulders go taut as he readjusts himself. you shuffle closer to him, but he moves away. "diluc..." you say in warning. "what are you hiding?"

your fiancé doesn't meet your eyes. it's then that you notice the bloodstained bandages that cover one of his shoulders and wrap around his torso. it wouldn't be the first time that you've seen him injured, but it doesn't get any easier with time.

diluc is insistent on protecting mondstadt in his own special way. you can't deny that his tenacity is admirable, but when his heroics take such a toll on his body, you wonder where he will draw the line, if ever.

still not looking at you, diluc sighs. "there were... more abyss mages than i was expecting," he confesses. "i didn't want to wake you or anybody else, so i tried to handle this on my own."

even when he's in need, the famous darknight hero asks for help from no one; not even his lover. you crawl across the bed and switch on the bedside lamp to get a better look at what he's struggling with. it's not as bad as it seems. the bandages are loose enough for you to see the cuts and gashes that need better treatment, but they look shallow. diluc still doesn't look at you, likely out of shame.

"i know you tell me to be more careful, but i couldn't let a single one get away." he almost sounds like a scolded child even though you haven't said anything yet.

you hum understandingly as you head to the cabinet in your room that holds medical supplies. it was weird to have something like this in your room at first, but with a future spouse so prone to injury, it blended in very quickly. diluc keeps speaking as you rummage through the cabinet.

"it wasn't just abyss mages either, i... i don't know if they coordinated an attack or something, but," he hisses in pain, "they got too close to mondstadt's gates."

"is that so," you murmur absent-mindedly. he was making excuses for himself in an attempt to appease you; you had to feign disinterest in order to keep from laughing. "at least you stopped them."

diluc finally looks at you, watching as you apply some healing solution to a cotton pad. "i'm sorry to make you do this again so early in the morning." his brows furrow when you move his arm to treat one of his wounds. "are you upset with me?"

he finally asks. you press your lips together to suppress an amused smile. "a little." you're not exactly lying. you are upset, but not for the reason he's thinking. you keep your statement vague on purpose, quietly snickering at the guilt that washes over diluc's face. "move your arm, love, and grit your teeth. this may hurt."

diluc does as you say. "is there anything i can do to make up for this--?" his words are cut by a pained groan.

"well, first of all, you could learn how to patch yourself up." you click your tongue as you finish redressing his wounds. diluc murmurs a low "okay" and you giggle this time, relishing in the bewildered look in his eyes. "second of all," you sit on the bed beside him and kiss his jaw. "i'm not mad at you."

"you're not?" he frowns at you. "but you're usually upset whenever i come home like this."

you rest a hand on his bare shoulder. he's not wrong. the new and faded scars that litter his skin still make your heart twist whenever you see them. as attractive as they may be and as interesting of a story each scar may tell, you're tired of going to bed every night wondering if diluc is going to come home alive. the last thing either of you want is for a knight to come knocking at your door with such morbid news.

but as much as you hate to admit it, you share in your fiancé's sentiments; if the knights of favonius weren't going to keep mondstadt safe from the creatures that threatened the city during the night, then who will? you wish you could fight alongside him, but not only were you visionless, but your skills weren't based in combat. the most you could do was apply your medical knowledge whenever he needed it.

so your issue this morning wasn't that he was so banged up, but rather that he tried to hide it.

"the one and only thing i can do for you when you risk your life," you say, making your way on the bed to kneel behind him, "is ensure that you recover enough to go back out there and protect the city." you carefully wrap your arms around diluc's torso and rest your chin on his shoulder. "why did you try to hide this from me, diluc?"

diluc closes his eyes and leans his head against yours. he's like your own personal furnace, even when he's haggard like this. "you're always up at dawn because of me," he murmurs, resting his hands over yours. "the least i could do was allow you some more time to sleep."

"no." you pepper a few kisses on his neck, absorbing the sigh he rewards you with. "the least you could do is let me support you. i don't wake up at dawn because you're disturbing me; i get up that early to make sure you're okay."

diluc brings hie hand up to rest his hand in your hair. "still, i wish you would sleep some more."

you snort. "isn't that my line?"

"i'm being serious, darling."

"as am i." you move off of his shoulder and take his hair down as gently as you can. scarlet locks pour over his shoulders and you work your fingers through it, lightly scratching at his scalp. you chuckle when diluc makes a pleased noise. he catches the sound in his throat and you see his ears begin to redden. "you can relax now, 'luc." you murmur. "it's fine."

diluc tilts his head back to look at you. already, his eyes are begin to droop. he's completely spent; you wonder how he managed to stay up this long even after you finished treating him. "are you sure, darling? what about you?"

you lean down to kiss his forehead. "for once, diluc ragnvindr, worry about yourself. be selfish, love."

diluc straightens himself out, but you can tell he's having trouble staying upright. he must notice as well, because he fixes himself on the bed so that he can rest his head in your lap. you follow his lead so as to make him more comfortable. "then," he yawns, "would be selfish of me to stay like this for a little while longer?"

you smile down at your fiancé, who can't even keep his eyes open. "of course not. good night, diluc."

diluc merely hums his reply.

outside, the birds begin to chirp, welcoming the new day.

✧ it's 2 am,,, what i wouldn't give to have diluc walk in rn :T

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #diluc ragnvindr #genshin diluc #diluc ragnivindr x reader #diluc x reader #genshin diluc x reader #z scribbles #i feel better now .. a solid 78% at best :D

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

In My Dreams Tonight

for @chaotic-bard who asked me for some fluff!

have a soulmates that dream about each other au featuring both a modern au and the canon universe!

brought to you by “Dreams Tonite” by Alvvays

---

“You’re nothing but trouble, bard,” the tall man glared from atop his horse. He always seemed to be glaring or glowering or huffing, the man in Jaskier’s dreams. The familiar stranger wore his long white hair pulled halfway back and he had golden eyes, the pupils of which were slit up the center like a cat’s. His name, Jaskier had learned after the third straight week of seeing him every night, was Geralt of Rivia. A Witcher, apparently, whose job it was to hunt down monsters.

“Ah, but what a lovely piece of trouble I am!” Jaskier replies. And he’s rather sassy himself in these dreams. Far more clever and ready to fight than he is when he’s awake. “You would miss me if I left, wouldn’t you, Geralt?”

“Hmm.”

The stranger hums a lot. He glares and he hums. Jaskier’s heart stutters frightfully in his chest whenever the man smiles, though. The sight is rare. Geralt has smiled perhaps three times in the past two months.

“Where are we going today?”

“Werewolf outside of town. You’re staying at the inn, where I know you can’t get into… nevermind. You can get into trouble anywhere.”

There’s a lightly teasing tone to the stranger’s voice that Jaskier hasn’t really heard before. He likes it. He craves more of it. He tosses and turns in his sleep, his skin damp with sweat. The dream goes on.

“Geralt, please,” he whines, “I can’t write ballads about monsters I haven’t seen! Or fights I did not attend! That’s lying to my audience, Geralt, and I simply won’t do it. I must go with you.”

“Drop it, Jaskier,” the man snarls. Jaskier feels sad. Incredibly sad.

Rejected?

“Gera-”

“I said drop it, bard.”

Jaskier wakes up feeling a little heartbroken and he yearns to be held. His pillow holds the fading scents of leather and wood-smoke. The sight of a pine sapling at the dog park makes him tear up.

He starts to wear the color yellow out of nowhere and his taste in jewelry switches from gold to silver. 

When his best friend asks him about the recent changes, he cannot answer.

---

Geralt pours himself a mug of tea and shakes his hair out of his face. He’s been having odd dreams lately, things that feel familiar but manage to stay just out of his conscious grasp. Someone important is waiting for him. Someone he love and cares about and needs. 

Geralt doesn’t really buy into the concept of soulmates, but he does understand instinct. He knows to trust his gut. He knows to listen and start paying attention when the same haunting blue eyes creep into his dreams every night for six months, plaguing him in the waking hours by refusing to give up their owners’ identity. 

He wipes a hand down his face and sighs loudly into the otherwise empty studio apartment. “Fuck me, I gotta figure this shit out. I gotta talk to Yen.”

Talking to himself has always helped him calm down. He does it again, just to hear his own low voice scraping through the silence. 

“I gotta see what’s going on with my head. These dreams are… getting to be a bit much, even for me.”

He nods to no one in particular and goes to text his best friend and coworker.

---

Jaskier hops off the bus and carries his guitar case down to the coffee shop on the corner. Finally, he’s managed to get a gig that wasn’t through the university.

He sets up his stuff in the tiny alcove the shop treats as a stage and watches as a few customers stroll around near the counter, waiting for their drinks or reading through the menu, hovering just far away enough from the line to keep others from growing confused.

He loves people watching. 

Once everything is ready to go and the light outside the window has dimmed a bit, indicating early evening has finally arrived, he pulls his guitar onto his lap and strums through a few quick chords.

“Rode here on the bus,

Now you're one of us.

It was magic hour,

Counting motorbikes on the turnpike;

One of Eisenhower's.”

 “Live your life on a merry-go-round;

Who starts a fire just to let it go out?”

He watches a particularly handsome man with broad shoulders and a vintage denim jacket approach the counter. Jaskier adds a haunting, well-practiced lilt to his voice as he goes into the chorus, hoping to get his attention:

“If I saw you on the street,

Would I have you in my dreams tonight?

If I saw you on the street,

Would I have you in my dreams tonight, tonight?”

An equally beautiful woman with long, curly black hair approaches the denim-clad angel and whisks him towards a table nearby. She settles with her back to Jaskier, leaving him with a decent view of the man’s sharp, lightly stubbled jaw, glittering eyes, and severe white ponytail. He’s gorgeous.

He’s also uncomfortably familiar.

Jaskier continues to perform, trying to identify his attractive mystery man the whole time and failing miserably.

---

“He’s everywhere, Yen. I feel like I could identify him by scent if I got close enough. I can’t remember his name, though. Or the color of his hair. I don’t know his face, only his eyes. It’s driving me crazy.”

“Have you talked to Dr. deStael about it?”

“Yeah, but she said this kind of thing is normal. Recurring dreams often help us sort out our trauma or something like that. I don’t know. I don’t feel traumatized by this guy I feel… protective of him. Maybe even like I love him?”

“Hmm.”

“Hey, that’s my line.”

“Shut up for a minute, this live music actually slaps and I want to listen to it. Then we can discuss your weird possessive tendencies towards your dream boyfriend.”

Geralt takes a slow sip of his coffee and glances up at the singer off to their left, perched on a barstool with his guitar held carefully on his lap. His voice is soft but somehow bright. Geralt finds himself utterly entranced.

“On the weird guitar;

Said you'd go to work

In the waking hour.

In fluorescent light,

Antisocialites watch a wilting flower.”

 “Live your life on a merry-go-round;

Who builds a wall just to let it fall down?”

The lyrics are strange and hold a dream-like quality to them. They draw a picture in Geralt’s head, something dark and heavy and oddly hollow. He has another sip of coffee and tries to ignore the feeling of panic welling up inside him. He glances at Yennefer to see if she’s picked up on his mood, but her violet eyes are focused on the singer and his nimble fingers as he continues to play and sing.

When he glances up towards their table and their eyes meet, Geralt loses the ability to breathe.

That shade of cornflower blue was…

Couldn’t be…

Had to be…

The gorgeous, feathery tenor continues to fill the air, whirling pleasant notes past his ears and deep into his subconscious. Geralt knows that voice. He’s heard this man laugh and sing and cry and scream a thousand different times. Through a handful of different lives. Geralt knows that face, those hands, those strong legs and long arms and blue fucking eyes. He’s held this singer in his arms every night for centuries, feeling his breathing as they both drift off to sleep.

He has protected this man and been protected by him in return. He has kissed and been kissed, caressed and been caressed. The two men sitting across from each other in the coffee shop physically embody an endless cycle of love. It has been bound up in the souls of two no-longer strangers. Geralt knows that he knows this man. 

He knows Jaskier.

Petal pink lips continue to form soft words and slender hands keep plucking at vibrating guitar strings:

“Don't sit by the phone for me,

Wait at home for me, all alone for me.

Your face was supposed to be

Hanging over me, like a rosary.”

Geralt stands suddenly, startling Yennefer but not the performer, even though he’s clearly just as shocked as Geralt about this recent development.

Their mutual realization.

“So morose for me,

Seeing ghosts of me,

Writing oaths to me,

Is it so naïve to wonder…”

Geralt crosses the room to the edge of the stage in three quick strides. Yennefer is close behind him, her latte just as abandoned as his coffee at their table. She grabs her friend’s arm as if to stop him from doing something violent, but when he doesn’t struggle against her grip she lets it go again easily. 

“Geralt?” the musician asks.

“Jaskier?” Geralt replies. The guitar is placed quickly to the side and a pair of incredibly familiar arms are thrown around the taller man’s neck. Geralt hugs back just as firmly, his arms flung low around the brunette’s waist. Geralt knows that this is Jaskier’s favorite way to be embraced; he doesn’t know how he’s aware of that fact, but it comes to the front of his mind clear as day. 

“Holy shit,” Jaskier breathes, leaning back to stare Geralt in the face. One of his string-calloused fingers traces down over Geralt’s eyelid and cheek and he cocks his head to the side. “No scar?”

“No,” Geralt shakes his head. “Not this lifetime, I guess.”

“Were we? Are we- are we, you know...?”

“Yeah,” Yen beams, adding her two cents from the sidelines. “I think so. Congrats, boys. This is one of those one in a million chances and you’ve gone and done it.”

“Done what?” Geralt asks. Jaskier tosses his head back and laughs. His happiness rings out through the cafe like a struck bell and Geralt’s heart stutters frantically. He really does love this man already. Wholeheartedly and without fear. “What have we done, Yen?”

“As obtuse now as you were then,” Jaskier chides affectionately. “Soulmates, my love. We’ve been bound by the red string of fate and ta-da! Here we are. Again, apparently.”

“Yes, okay,” Geralt breathes, nosing his way along Jaskier’s jaw with giddy determination. He presses a quick and wholly welcome kiss to the bard’s lips. “That makes sense.”

 “Do you... do you want me again? This time around?” Jaskier asks, fingers fiddling with one of the ties on Geralt’s hoodie. A pair of chapped lips press against his again and he sighs into it, melting against his no-longer-Witcher. 

“Yes. And the next one, as well.”

#bouncey's sappy hours #geraskier #geraskier fluff #yen #yennefer #yenerference kinda #getting together #soulmate au #prophetic dreams #geraskier soulmate au #geraskier soulmates #shared dreams #modern au #geraskier modern au #kissing #first kiss #magically getting together #prompt fill

[n0wornever]

Loved You First - Carrie/Luke x Reader (pt. 2)

HUGE thank you to @joshy-obx​ for the help on this idea! I tweaked it a bit, but I wouldn’t have gotten to part 2 without you, you rock! 

Read Part 1

The next morning, Y/N walked over to Julie’s place a bit early before the band’s rehearsal. She opened the door and her senses were automatically drawn in to the sound of a quietly strumming guitar sound coming from the couch. As her eyes met his, his fingers stopped in their place and he smiled. He nodded her over to the couch, she shoved her hands into her pockets and walked toward him. 

“Good morning,” He said with tired eyes. 

A light smile spread across her face as she took in his features. He had clearly been up all night, the bags under his eyes visible, a light red drawing in from the sides.

“Morning, did you actually sleep?”

“No, I couldn’t stop my mind from racing after last night...” He blushed, moving his gaze to his guitar. 

“Yeah, I couldn’t really sleep either,” She said, and let the room fall quiet for a moment. His hand moved from the strings slowly, inching toward hers. He met her gaze again to confirm that his actions were okay. She nodded at him and he moved swiftly to connect their hands. Y/N looked down at their tangled fingers and felt her heart pick up a bit again. As she looked up, she found his eyes already fixed on her. Her cheeks began to flush, as she tried to control her breathing.

Their sweet embrace was interrupted by the sound of Reggie and Alex’s voices filling her air. Luke closed his eyes, scrunching his face in frustration, causing them both to giggle for a moment. He looked back down at their hands, lifting hers to his lips before winking and getting up. She followed his figure as he lightly jogged over to the boys. She pulled out her sketchbook from her backpack and drew her attention to the clean page.

“Luke, are you even paying attention?” Y/N was pulled back into the present as she heard the agitation in her best friend’s voice. She looked up to see Julie with her hip popped, eyes raised at the boy. Her eyes wandered over to the other girl and she looked back him with a smirk. “Or are you distracted by a certain someone.”

She watched as Luke’s cheeks started to burn red and he met her eyes for a quick second before diverting his gaze to his shoes. She giggled a bit to herself before shoving her sketchbook back into her backpack and standing up.

“No worries Jules, I’m about to head out. I’ll see you all later” She let her gaze fall across all members of the band, but her eyes fixed on Luke for a bit longer. He gave her a wide smile that she reciprocated, walking out the door. 

Before she was even three steps away from garage, she was met with a familiar sound. “Hey,” A tiny female voice said just above a whisper. 

She took in a very casual Carrie in front of her. Her hair pulled out of her face in a ponytail, a sweatshirt draped across her torso with a pair of black leggings underneath. She had never seen the girl less than business casual in and out of school. She approached her slowly.

“Carrie, hey.” 

Carrie kept her hands in her sweatshirt front pocket, meeting her gaze with glossy eyes. A small smile landed on her face as they stood closer to one another. Neither girl said anything for a moment, but Carrie eventually took the lead. 

“Look, Y/N, we ended on such a bad note.” 

The other girl scoffed at this statement. Bad note was such a discredit the screaming match that took place between the two when she found out Carrie had been seeing Nick behind her back. Carrie’s gaze didn’t waver, holding a sympathetic look. 

“Okay, maybe that’s an understatement.” Carrie admitted, taking a breath. “I never meant to hurt you, I just didn’t know that what we had...well that it was actually something that was going to last, or that it was even something that I wanted.”

Y/N felt such a punch to the gut at this statement. She and Carrie were both closeted at the time that their first kiss happened. 

(flashback)

Carrie had a small bonfire at her place, and as the crowd dwindled, it ended up being just her and Y/N, looking at each other in the light of the flames. They sat and talked for another hour before the fire started to die. As Carrie went to say goodbye to her that night, instead of their normal hug, Carrie took her hand. Y/N remembered the catch in her throat at the time. She hesitated meeting Carrie’s eyes, but finally let them settle on her kind smile. Carrie slowly walked closer to her and they both leaned in, letting their lips brush. The blushing girls exchanged goodbyes before Y/N walked out the door.

After that night, they were inseparable in secret. They rotated who’s house they went to each night, holding hands and cuddling in the safety of their bedrooms. Y/N really fell for Carrie, so when she appeared on her doorsteps in tears one night, she knew something was really wrong. Carrie held her hands and told her quietly about her date with Nick and admitted she’d been seeing him for weeks. Her heart sank as her girlfriend tried to reason with her. She knew she couldn’t make Carrie feel safe enough to come out, but she wished she’d told her before Nick came into the picture.

“I never rushed you, Carrie. I told you I’d wait.” Y/N had said to her, looking at their interlocked. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you lie to me?”

Carrie let tears fall from her face “I’m sorry, I just couldn’t. I knew it’d hurt too much.”

Y/N let go of her hands, saying “I need time” before shutting the door in the other girl’s face.

All these thoughts raced back to her mind as the girl stood in front of her once again. Y/N stood up straighter as she continued to listen to what she had to say.

“I’m sorry I hurt you, Y/N. It was wrong and I was scared, but my feelings for you were always true. I was hoping that maybe we could start over...maybe try again?” She chewed on her bottom lip as she waited for a response.

Y/N sighed, inching a bit back from the girl as she shook her head. “Carrie, I’m sorry...I can’t.” 

The girls didn’t notice that the band had finished rehearsing and were watching them from the doorway. Luke looked at the pair with worried eyes. 

“Last night, I had the best time with Luke. I like him Carrie, a lot. He is what I need and I will never endanger that.”

Carrie nodded, her gaze raising to see the four bandmates, increasing her panic. She quickly tucked her hands back into her pocket and brought her eyes back to meet Y/N’s. 

“Got it, I knew it was a long shot. Well, I hope that goofy guitar player understands how lucky he is faster than I did.” She gave her a small smile that Y/N returned “I’ll see you later.”

She exhaled loudly, watching the girl walk away before turning around. Her eyes widened as she saw the four sympathetic smiles of her friends behind her. Julie’s eyes wandered between her’s and Luke’s before walking up toward her and giving her a hug. 

“Let’s talk later?” 

She nodded as her best friend wiped the tears from her face with her sleeve. They hugged once more before she walked toward the house. Reggie and Alex both gave her quick hugs before following Julie, and leaving Luke and her alone. 

She walked forward to meet Luke halfway. As they stood in closer proximity, she watched as his eyes trailed across her face in concern. His hands reached out to touch her waist lightly and pull her in. She felt a shiver up her spine at his sudden touch. 

“You know, we don’t have to do this right away if you aren’t ready.” He said, fingers tapping against her skin. 

She nodded, holding his gaze “I appreciate that. I may go slow....but I know that what I want is to be with you.” His smiled widened as he looked at her, pulling her in a bit closer. 

She leaned forward with her hands on his chest and met his lips with hers quickly. She leaned her forehead against his, smiling into the embrace. They sat there for a moment before he broke the embrace, grabbing her hand and leading her back toward the garage. 

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Tag list: @xplrreylo, @lovesanimals, @anythingandeverythingfandom, @crybabyddl, @oswin05, @joshy-obx, @lukeys-giggle, @bumbleberry-pie @kiss-themoongoodbye, @anythingandeverythingfandoms, @marinettepotterandplagg, @lolychu, @bathtimejish, @dasexydevitt13@musicconversedance ,@txrii, @bestdressedandstressed, @daisiesforlacey​ @carleywhittaker @epikskool

#luke patterson #luke patterson x reader #luke patterson imagine #luke patterson fanfiction #julie and the phantoms #jatp #jatp fanfiction #julie and the phantoms fanfiction

[highstwildflower]

Highly

A/n: this is really long I’m sorry!😂

Words: 2000 ca.

The cloud that erupted from your lips vanished into thin air, reminding you of the man who used to fan the smoke away from his reach. Now the spot next to you was empty, no one was complaining and no one was bugging you about being unhealthy. The thick joint was pressed between your lips once again, sucking the poison into your lungs. The relaxing plant infected your system and everything slowed down. The stars swimming above you dripped into the moon that was filled to the brim. You finished the joint, leaning back with a heart that was aching. Moving around you found the position that allowed your heavy heart some rest, your phone was out of reach and you were too lazy to retrieve it. You wanted to shoot him a text tho, telling him all the words he never got to hear.

Instead you lay there, images burning behind closed eyes. Images of his green forrest eyes that disappeared when his laughter erupted, how you would kill to hear that laugh again. The feeling of  the vibration through his chest as he sung you a new tune. How he used to look at you, eyes searching for inspiration and the look in them the second he found it. Being his muse had been the greatest achievement of your life. Your favorite memory was from the frosty night in December only five moths prior, ditching a party the two of you had ventured off into the night. He had held you close when you arrived at your shared home, bodies moving in sync, the rhythm you fell into in the bed had been steady and slow. Intimate love making till dawn. Your bodies not craving sleep, instead you had moved to the patio. His large body had been pressed firmly against the lounge couch and he had pulled you against him. Limbs draped over each other's and low voices filling the air with words of adoration. The conversation following the flow of the wind, the chilly morning offering you an excuse to snuggle closer to your love. He had happily accepted the closeness, and soon series of laughter had erupted into the slow morning. Just the two of you, bodies pressed together and love flowing freely.

You mind had turned off to the memory of him, and next thing you knew you woke up in your lonely bed. It had never felt so big when Michael had been taking up half of it. The empty room taunting you and the long halls hunting the memories that was made here away. As days fell into night and night turned into days your speckle off hope had vanished. The hope of feeling his body once more, his lips on yours and his voice rumbling against your skins. Instead you tugged away your emotions everyday walking through life as someone else, and only allowing the emotions to take over at night. Most nights your mind raced to the loving memories, but some nights it was the burning memories of pain the pressed into your head.

Dating Michael had been fun and easy, when he asked you to build a home with him you had been ecstatic. Slowly reality dawned on you, the rockstar lifestyle being far away from the life you wished to led. His drinking turned into situations that was hurtful, a large number of girls pressing on. Wishing to enter your relationship, you begging him to change every night when he would stumble through the door.

The last time you saw him stung in the back of your mind. Just mere hours after you had told him that he had to stop with the excessive amount of alcohol and he has kissed you with a promise of doing better. You were fuming when you heard him fumbling with the front door, the creaking of the door setting you completely off. With steam clouding your mind you had entered the entrance and he had shot you a short smile. As he came close the words that left his mouth dragged your breath away, leaving your body defenseless "I though you were out with us? Who was the girl I kissed than?" He carelessly moved through your house towards the bedroom. Tears drawing pathways down your cheeks and hiccups threatening to spill passed your lips. You stayed up all night, waiting for him to sober up. Every minute of the night was spent considering the conversation of tomorrow. When he was clear in his head, he yelled out for you, his words bouncing of the walls. Your fragile body towering over him, and your voice anything but fragile. He was shunned from the house, leaving in a hurry as you yelled out your pain. Months passed where you awaited his next move, silently hoping that he would beg for you to forgive him. Instead you got nothing.  His stuff was still where he left them except from his guitars. And you knew everything but his guitars was replaceable. When Calum had turned up at your door with a sorrowful painted across his face you knew he was there to pick them up. It hurt every time you glanced at the empty room having yet to entered it, dust was covering the corners and slowly tugging the room into a dull forgotten memory.

Your high ponytail was swinging from side to side as you strutted down the sidewalk. The pep in your steps were just a reminded to yourself that you had the power to move on. When you spotted him at your favorite coffee shop, your steps came to a halt. His eyes meet yours long before yours meet his. He saw you and froze. Your smile telling him that you were doing good but your eyes spilling your secret. Awkwardly you walked over to him "hi stranger" your voice was a pitch higher than usual and you mentally scolded yourself for the preppy outburst. His voice was darker than you remembered but the impact of his words stronger than you expected "Hi. How are you?" The concentration on your face told him that you were trying your best to stay cool "I'm good , yeah very good. What about you?" The forced smile made his heart ache and his guards grow weaker. "Im glad you are doing good y/n. Im getting through day by day. 4 months sober yesterday" His voice grew with pride as he told you about his sobriety, and his smile grew even larger as he saw the proud look on your face. Without thinking twice you leaped into his arms, hugging him tightly against yourself "Im so proud of you Micky." Your cheeks grew red as you realized that this wasn't what was normal for you to do anymore. The break up meant that you had to sacrifice being close to him and just watch his life from afar. You knew he was sober, his instagram had told you so. But to hear the words leave his mouth made you ache with pride. When he felt you draw back he pulled you into himself again, not ready to let you slide through his fingers once more. Your smell was filling his nostrils and he wanted to keep you wrapped in his arms forever. When he let go of your body, you stumbled back and took him in. He looked better than ever, more fit and more alive. The silence laid as a blanket making the air hot and thick and just as you were about to say your byes he spoke up "Do you wanna catch up some day? maybe drink a cup of coffee?" you smiled shyly at him, and the fact that he had cheated on you was forgotten, "Yeah I would like that." Just like that you had a date with him, your body felt like yours for the first time in months and the pep in your step were no longer forced.

The knock at your door alerted you that he had arrived. You opened the door and smiled at him a laugh followed shortly behind "Quite weird having you knocking on your own door" he smiled back at you before he spoke "Thats ok, you look absolutely beautiful love" he handed you the flowers in his hand and you felt oddly embarrassed, such gestures never fell naturally to Michael. More a man of words he would praise you, shower you in physical affection but stray away from gifts. The ride in his car was longer than you remembered it, the small drops of sweat that was collecting at Michaels hairline let you know that you weren't alone with the crippling feeling of anxiety that started to form the second you woke up. His hands were both clutched to the steering wheel and as he turned into the coffee shop your stomach turned with anticipation. "I was thinking we could do to go? And then go to our spot?" You smiled at his idea, that he remembered how much you enjoined your spot.

The car came to a halt at the empty parking spot. Michael was quick to climb out of the car and open your door for you. Slowly you made your way towards the spot. Surrounded by nature you felt your breath become easier. The large stones that leaned against each other offered a place to take a seat. He came prepared with a blanket and a packed picking. Like so many times before you took place next to each other, the still warm air clinging to both your bodies as the sun continued it's decent. The ocean reached the stones and splashes were sent into the sky. His legs rested and made contact with the firmness of your other thigh. Slow conversation filled the space between you and drew you closer. Coffee was sipped and sandwiches shared. The sun came into contact with the ocean and Michael dived into the cruel conversation that was awaiting you. His body turned to yours "I'm sorry" his words were low but you heard him, your eyes meet and you signaled for him to go on. He took deep breaths of fresh air, worried that his fragile words wouldn't be enough "I'm sorry for everything I put you through. I've realized that I was so far out of line. All my decisions fell back onto you. And I'm awfully sorry about kissing another woman. You are truly the only one for me. I understand if you aren't interested in being with me ever again, but I've changed y/n. I'm still working on myself, but you are my motivation every single day and I want to make it up to you." You mind was clouded by his words, the mentioning of his infidelity was like salt in wounds but you wanted to give him a chance. "Yeah you sucked" you tried to lighten the mood but you both knew that, that was a light way to put it. You continued while gripping his hand " I want to be with you Mickey. But it is definitely going to be difficult for me to trust you" you smiled a careful smile at him and he moved even closer, desperate to feel you. His hand moved to your face as he silently asked for your permission to press his lips against yours. You nodded your head, eager to feel the movement. The world stood still, birds chirping became louder and the intensity of the small gesture made you dizzy. Michael was right there with you, you soft lips sending him into a feeling of ecstasy.

Silent promise between lovers who had been torn apart filled the now colder air. Sun kissing the ocean and dancing in warm colors. Pulling one another closer, and thinking of each other highly.

#5sos #fanfiction #5sos calm #5sos fandom #5sosfic #ashton irwin #calum hood #fiction #luke hemmings #5sos fanfic #5sos michael #michael clifford #Michael rec #imagines 5sos #imagines #oneshot #5sos preferences #preference #writing #5sos fluff #5sos x y/n #y/n #5sos blurbs #5sos angst #angst #please read this #I’ve spent forever writing this

[king-finnigan]

these four walls (supposed to save you from yourself)

part 1, part 2, part 3. also on AO3. requested by @dibsonsmth

When Jaskier gets invited to play a few songs for the patients of the mental health ward his best friend Triss works at, he doesn't expect much of it. After all, he's just a music teacher with a guitar, the most he can do for these people is to entertain them for a short while.

But then he finds out about Geralt, who's spent the past few months in the ward without even leaving his room, and Jaskier realizes that he might still be able to make a difference, after all.

“It’s not too late to turn back, Jask,” Triss says softly, big, brown eyes regarding him with concern.

He sighs, carding his hands through his hair as he looks in the rearview mirror, trying to fix the tangled mess at least a little bit. Eventually, he gives up and leans back, hands falling limply into his lap where his fingers start drumming a quick staccato on his thighs.

“I know,” he says with a nervous smile. “But it’s just a little bit of stage fright. Nothing to worry about.”

“Are you sure? You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“No, I want to.” He opens the passenger door, getting out of the car and retrieving his guitar from the backseat, carding his sweaty hand through his hair one last time.

It had been Triss’ idea to begin with. At the time, he’d wholeheartedly said yes. Now, though… now he’s not so sure anymore. After all, he doesn’t really know what he can do for these people. They’re all here because they form a danger to either themselves or others. And Jaskier? Well, Jaskier’s just a guy with a guitar.

But Triss takes care of these patients day in day out, surely she wouldn’t have invited Jaskier to come sing for them if she didn’t think it would help.

He sighs again and takes a leap of faith.

The mental health ward occupies the top floor of the hospital, and the lift ride up is quiet and uneventful, though the nervous twang in Jaskier’s stomach only grows as he fiddles with the strap of his guitar case.

Finally, the lift doors open and he and Triss step out into a bright yellow hall, two closed sliding doors separating them from the actual ward. He watches as Triss scans her badge and types in a code, and hurries forward when the doors slide open and she ushers him inside. He watches again when she closes the doors right away.

“Safety precautions,” she clarifies when she sees him looking. “To make sure no one who’s not allowed to leave actually leaves.”

“Ah,” he says sheepishly, shifting from one foot to the other as he turns around to look at the room.

It’s a large, round space, the walls painted yellow and white, large windows letting in the bright sunlight from outside, spilling over the grey linoleum floor and the green couches and chairs that litter the room in small groups, gathered around low coffee tables. There are people sitting here and there, some sharing a table and playing a board game together, others sharing a table as well but sitting in silence – merely enjoying each other’s company, and others sitting all alone, but seemingly content in their solitude. Some are younger, some are older.

And it’s… peaceful. Quiet. Comforting.

He knows that the image people have of mental health wards is quite different from reality, but still, it catches him off-guard.

“It’s still quite early.” He startles at Triss’ voice behind him, breaking the soft lull in the room. “The group therapy sessions start in a few hours, so you’ve got their attention for now.”

He turns back to the room. “And this is everyone?”

She crosses her arms, leaning her shoulder against his. “No, but it is almost everyone. There’s three people missing. Ciri, who’s been restrained because she keeps scratching open her wounds and we don’t have enough staff to keep an eye on her all day. Dara, her best friend – he won’t leave her side, so he’s in her room as well. And Geralt.”

“Right, I’ll pay them a visit as well afterwards.”

She smiles at him. “I’m sure Ciri and Dara would love it, but don’t waste your breath on Geralt, buttercup. Don’t take it personally, he’s not fond of people in general. And he’s quite stubborn in his hatred of others.”

“Really?”

“Hmm. He’s been here a few months already and he’s yet to join a single group therapy session.”

“Well, I’ll see what I can do.” He nudges her, giving her an overexaggerated wink. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll be the one to melt his frosty exterior.”

“Doubt it,” she deadpans. “Now go on, get ready for your performance, maestro. We’re wasting valuable time here.”

---

It goes surprisingly well, the whole thing. Some of the people gather around him as he sings, others content to just stay where they are and listen. He gets a few requests, even, which he is very happy to fulfil.

And before he knows it, two hours have passed, and people start to file out of the room to attend the group therapy sessions.

He doesn’t put his guitar back in its case just yet, though, as he remembers the promise he made to Triss to check up on Ciri and Dara and the ever-grumpy Geralt.

“Knock, knock,” he says, quickly rapping his knuckles against the doorframe, a big smile plastered on his face as he carefully inches into the room. “Am I interrupting?”

There’s a boy and a girl there. The girl is half-lying in bed, her back propped up with several pillows, blonde hair fanning out over the white linen. Her lower arms are wrapped in bandages, the restraints around her wrist binding her to the sides of the bed. The boy is sitting in the chair next to the bed, playing with the sleeves of his too-big shirt, face slightly sunken. Jaskier can’t help but notice how thin his wrists are, and he doesn’t doubt for a second that he could easily fit his thumb and forefinger around them.

Their eyes turn to Jaskier.

“No, it’s fine.” The girl – Ciri, presumably – is the first one to speak. “Are you a new nurse?”

He shakes his head. “I’m Jaskier, I’m…” he lifts his guitar “…I suppose ‘entertainment’ is the word that fits best here. I just played a few songs in the common room, but I didn’t want to leave you guys bereft. If you want, I can sing something for you.”

Ciri’s smile widens. “Sure! I would love that.” She turns to the boy. “Dara, is that alright with you?” The boy nods.

Jaskier pulls a folding chair from the wardrobe – something Triss told him he would find there – and sits down, gently strumming his guitar once to make sure it’s still in tune. “And what would you like to hear?”

She grins at him. “Happy Together by the Turtles!” she says gleefully, and God, she’s truly precious. Jaskier gets the sneaking suspicion he won’t ever be able to say no to her.

He starts playing.

---

Half an hour later, he finds himself in front of another doorway, this time leading to a darkened room, the sunblind pulled down completely to shroud the space in darkness, casting thin strips of sunlight across the walls and floor. Still, Jaskier can see well enough to spot the man sitting at the far end of the room, in front of a table with a chess board.

“Knock, knock,” Jaskier calls, rapping his knuckles on the doorframe. “You must be Geralt, right?”

The man doesn’t look up but simply lifts his hand to move a chess piece, slowly turning the board around afterwards.

Jaskier clears his throat to break the awkward silence, taking a few steps into the room. “I’m Jaskier. I’m uh… entertainment. I’ve got my guitar with me and I can sing a few songs for you if you want. You just need to ask.”

Now that he’s a bit closer, he can see that Geralt has stark white hair, falling in soft, barely-there waves down to his shoulders, tied back into a half-ponytail. Jaskier resists the urge to check if it’s as soft as it looks.

But from here, he can also see that the man doesn’t even grant him a sideways glance. Quite the opposite; Geralt even seems to turn away from Jaskier the closer he gets, giving him the cold shoulder.

“Are you sure there’s no song you want to hear? If you can’t decide, I can pick out something for you, perhaps.”

There’s no movement from Geralt, he’s as still as a statue as his eyes keep drilling holes into the chess board. It’s too dark for Jaskier to see the colour of those irises, but they’re certainly light, and in the back of his mind he ponders how splendid they would probably look in the sunlight.

The silence stretches on. Geralt moves a chess piece. Turns the board.

“As uh… charming as you are, my dearest Geralt, I do wanna know what type of music you like, so I can sing something for you.”

Geralt balls his hands into tight fists on the table. His shoulders grow tense.

He still doesn’t say a word, but Jaskier gets the message: Fuck off.

He laughs nervously, fingers drumming on the wood of the guitar. “Right!” he says, forcibly bright. “I see you’re busy, so I won’t continue to disturb you. I’ll be back next week.” He takes a few steps backwards. Geralt still doesn’t acknowledge his presence. “Alright… Bye, then.”

He turns around and walks out of the room, letting out a long breath once he’s back in the bright hallway. That really didn’t go well – but then again, Triss already warned him it wouldn’t.

Doesn’t matter. If Geralt wants to be a grumpy boor, then who is Jaskier to stop him?

But, as he teaches one of his students how to strum a few chords correctly that afternoon, he can’t help but let his mind wander back to that mysterious man with white hair, sitting all alone in that darkened room, playing chess against himself.

---

He’s back two days later. He knows the deal with Triss was that he’d be there once a week, but something draws him back to the place – whether it’s his captive audience, Ciri’s bright smile, Dara’s quiet gratitude, or Geralt’s unreadable silence, Jaskier doesn’t know. He supposes it doesn’t matter.

He takes the elevator back up, shooting Triss a quick text to ask her to open the door for him as he fiddles with the strap of his guitar case, letting his nail dig a path in the soft leather.

Triss greets him the second he steps out of the lift, arms crossed in front of her chest, eyebrow pulled up, eyes glinting with something annoyed and fond she saves especially for Jaskier.

“You know you’re not expected until next week, right?”

He shrugs, scratching the back of his neck. “I know, but I don’t have any plans for the morning, so I figured why not, you know?”

She purses her lips, narrowing her eyes at him before she sighs and relents, waving him inside. “Come on, mister Impatient. Let’s go, then.”

---

“Knock, knock.” He quickly raps on the doorframe, taking a tentative step into the darkened room.

Geralt is sitting at the table again, hunched in on himself as his eyes remain fixed on the chess board. Slowly, he lifts a hand, moving a piece before he slowly turns the board around, propping a fist under his chin, the other arm laid across his lap. Jaskier knows that, were he a drawer or artist of sorts, he would draw Geralt exactly the way he is now: sitting in a dark and empty room, still as a statue in front of the chess board as the sunlight filters through the blinds, painting him in black and white, casting dark shadows and yellow highlights on his face.

But he’s not. He’s a musician, and though he likes to consider himself quite good at what he does, he knows he could never do this image justice.

For now, though, he takes in every little detail and commits it to memory, imprinting it on his mind.

He takes another few steps forward. He’s halfway across the room now. “I know I said I’d be back next week,” he says softly – his normal volume too loud for the stillness of this room. “But I’m back now. Did you think of any songs for me to sing to you?”

Geralt ignores him. He moves a chess piece. Turns the board.

Jaskier sighs, leaning against the wall, idly plucking a few random notes. “Well,” he muses, “if you can’t decide, I suppose I’ll have to decide for you.”

Geralt’s hands ball into fists, his shoulders grow tense. Once again, he’s telling Jaskier to piss off without really saying anything.

This time, though, Jaskier decides to ignore it. If it angers Geralt more, then so be it – as long as he doesn’t outright tell Jaskier to go away, he’s not going anywhere.

He strums a few chords. “How do you feel about ‘Big Yellow Taxi’?” The man on the other side of the room doesn’t answer, doesn’t even deign him worthy of a sideways glance.

So Jaskier starts to sing.

And still, throughout it all, Geralt doesn’t say a word. He moves a chess piece once or twice, turning the board right afterwards, but his head doesn’t even incline towards Jaskier. He doesn’t give him any acknowledgement, any sign that he’s aware Jaskier is there at all.

Jaskier keeps on singing as if Geralt isn’t there, either.

And then the song ends. Jaskier strums the last chord on his guitar, eyes glued to Geralt’s silhouette, tracing the line of every highlight and shadow, following the movement of his muscles and tendons as Geralt lifts a hand, sliding a chess piece across the wood before turning the board again. His face is still, oh so still, the dim light and the bright rays of sunshine streaming through the blinds making it seem as if he’s been hewn from marble, as if he’s a work of art come to life, an ancient Greek statue from the hands of the old masters themselves that’s been granted a beating heart by the gods.

Jaskier could drown in the vision before him.

Light eyes quickly dart to him, the first acknowledgement of his existence since he stepped foot into the room, and suddenly his mind slams back into his body. He’s hyper-aware of every single little thing – of the frantic pounding of his heart, the rushing of blood in his ears, the breath that catches in his lungs when their gazes meet for a split second, the twitching of his muscles as his body desperately tries to tap out his nervousness on his guitar.

For only a second, the world stops spinning.

Geralt looks away again and Jaskier takes a few steps backwards, heat rising to his cheeks and ears as he swallows around the lump in his throat.

“R- right, then,” he stammers. “See you around, Geralt.”

He practically flees from the hospital room.

---

Hours later, his fingers are still trembling with the sheer force and weight of Geralt’s eyes on him, even if it was just for a second or so.

He retrieves the old, square box from the attic of the house his parents left him – it’s still where he remembers stashing it, years ago. He opens it on his desk, shaky hands setting up the pieces before he types the question on his phone.

How to play chess.

---

He’s back on Sunday.

Triss snorts when she greets him at the doors, rolling her eyes at him. “You know,” she says, “I won’t always be around to let you in, if you’re going to keep showing up all the time.”

He smiles sheepishly. “What can I say? I just really like it here.”

She narrows her eyes at him, smiling mischievously. “You like Geralt, you mean. I could see you last time, coming out of his room while blushing like a comely maiden. What happened?”

He shrugs. “Nothing. I just sang a song for him.”

“And he let you?” She huffs out a laugh. “Well, who could’ve seen that one coming? Come on, let’s get you inside, lover boy.”

He sputters a bit, but follows her through the doors all the same.

---

“Knock, knock,” he says, tapping on the doorframe a few times before he takes a few steps inside the dark room. “I’m uh… I’m back.”

He fiddles with the strap of his guitar case for a few seconds before pulling it over his head, setting the instrument against the wall.

Geralt is once again sitting on the other side of the room, still as a statue, eyes drilling holes into the chess board as he completely ignores Jaskier. But he won’t be able to much longer – Jaskier will make sure of that.

Whether his actions will anger Geralt enough for the man to start yelling at him, he doesn’t know. But as he looks at Geralt’s face, at the way the sunlight peeking through the blinds makes parts his hair shine in a white-golden halo around his head, he decides that it’s a risk he’s willing to take. If only so that Geralt will at least look at him.

He crosses the room in a few steps and snatches two pawns off the board.

And that does catch Geralt’s attention.

Light eyes flicker up to look at him, making his breath catch in his lungs with the intensity of that gaze, with the anger slowly budding on Geralt’s face. But Jaskier doesn’t step back or turn away. He simply puts his hands behind his back, switching the pieces around a few times before holding out his fists, a pawn in each one.

“Choose,” he says. Geralt’s eyes stay glued to his face, eyebrows slowly drawing together, hands curling into fists.

Jaskier sighs. “I’m getting tired of having to see you play chess all by yourself. It’s quite sad to watch, really. So, pick a colour and we’ll play together.”

The silence in the room is almost palpable, unmoving to the point where Jaskier can almost taste it on his tongue. His head grows light, dizziness setting in as he keeps holding his breath – his lungs won’t cooperate as long as Geralt’s still looking at him.

And slowly, ever so slowly, the man in front of him lifts a hand, eyes never leaving Jaskier’s face as he softly taps a finger on Jaskier’s left fist.

He opens it, presenting the white pawn to Geralt.

He sits down on the other side of the table, setting the pawns on the board, rearranging the black pieces into two neat, little rows. Geralt does the same, although more slowly, as though he doesn’t quite believe what’s going on. Jaskier watches the man move the pieces, watches sure and strong hands delicately hold those little, fragile things and put them on their assigned square. He imagines how Geralt’s fingers would twitch slightly as Jaskier would hold his hand palm-up, trailing his finger over his skin lightly. He imagines how those scarred fingers would curl around his, hand warm in Jaskier’s.

And then Geralt’s done. Light eyes look up at Jaskier, catching the sunlight streaming through the blinds, and suddenly he can see that they’re amber. A rich, deep amber that holds soft golden and brown flecks, the colour of sunflowers in a summer field, the colour of honey dripping down a finger before it’s licked up, the colour of ambrosia and the nectar of the gods.

It’s a colour Jaskier would gladly lose himself in.

“All yours,” he says breathlessly, feeling as though the words have been punched from his chest.

Golden eyes flicker down to the chess board and a strong, scarred hand moves up to slide a pawn across the wood. Geralt’s gaze shifts back up to him, and for a second, it feels like Jaskier might die from the intensity of it.

He swallows thickly, quickly looking at the board and moving his own pawn. He barely even remembers the things he learned about chess the past few days – hell, he barely even remembers his own name, as if Jaskier’s entire life threatens to wash away whenever those golden eyes look at him, as if every moment has been meaningless up until this point.

Geralt moves a chess piece. Jaskier follows suit.

Slowly, as the minutes tick by one at a time, Jaskier starts to relax bit by bit. His focus shifts from the man in front of him to the chess board and the soft melody that’s starting to build at the back of his mind.

After a while of having it stuck in his head, he starts humming it.

Golden eyes meet his.

“Oh, you don’t mind, do you?” he asks, concern knitting his eyebrows together. Because as much as he loves music and loves making it, he doesn’t want to risk shattering the fragile bond he has with Geralt, doesn’t want to lose this just yet.

Geralt’s gaze drifts back to the board. He moves another piece. He doesn’t say anything.

Jaskier takes that as encouragement and starts humming again.

He loses the game in thirteen more moves.

He grins up at Geralt as they both move the pieces back into place. “Well, that was a disaster. Forgive me, I’m not really that familiar with the game yet, but maybe I’ll learn if you give me a chance?”

He phrases it as a question, a gentle hope igniting in his chest. He probably won’t coax Geralt into talking just yet, but if he can just get a reaction – anything other than silent glances – it will make everything worth it.

Please give me a chance.

Geralt looks up at him, face as perfectly still and unreadable as ever as the silence stretches on between them. Eventually, he looks back down again.

He lifts a hand and moves a pawn forward, starting a new game.

Jaskier can’t help the grin that spreads across his face.

---

“Jesus, buttercup. Back again, already?” Triss asks him on Tuesday, furrowing her brows at him. “I think I’ll put in a request with the admin to get you your own badge. I really can’t be here to let you in all the time, you know.”

“I know.” He smiles at her before slipping inside the ward, blowing her a kiss as he walks backwards towards the hallway that leads to Geralt’s room. “I owe you one!”

“You owe me several, buttercup!” she shouts back at him.

---

“Hmm, what do you think is better, Geralt? ‘Gorgeous garrotter’, or ‘lovely garrotter’?”

Golden eyes flicker up to his, before looking back at the board. Geralt moves his bishop.

“Yeah, you’re right. Just ‘garrotter’ would work best,” Jaskier mumbles as he uses his knight to take Geralt’s bishop. He continues humming the melody, muttering lyric ideas under his breath, trying to find a good rhythm to the words.

Geralt moves his queen. Jaskier blanches as he realizes he’s been lured into a trap yet again, and knocks over his king.

“You win,” he sighs. “Again.”

He doesn’t miss it when the corners of Geralt’s mouth pull up in self-satisfaction as he starts to reset the board.

“Again, I suppose?” Jaskier asks. Geralt moves his pawn forward. “I assume that’s a ‘yes’,” he mutters.

---

What was supposed to be a once-a-week thing turns into an everyday thing as soon as Jaskier gets his badge from the hospital. Most days he doesn’t even play for the other patients – though he does reserve an hour for them at least twice a week and obliges whenever they ask him for a song – but spends his time in Geralt’s room, chess board in front of him, guitar in his lap.

He doesn’t know what it is about the room, but something there calms his mind down, makes him see things clearer and from a different angle, gives him the quiet and peace and inspiration he needs to finish the songs he’s been working on for years, now, and gives him the spark he needs to write new songs.

He supposes that the ‘something’ might be Geralt himself, but there’s a part of him that fears that if he admits that out loud, even to himself, it will become too serious – that it will become a riptide that will sweep him off his feet and push him under water.

He looks at Geralt, at the man sitting in the sunlight, the white halo around his head making him look ethereal, the bright light highlighting the scars and birthmarks and freckles on his skin – the tiny imperfections Jaskier commits to memory every time he gets the chance to see them. The past few days, Geralt’s begun to lift the sunblind up a little bit, the room suddenly not so dark anymore. It’s probably to see the chess board better, Jaskier supposes.

“So,” he says from the doorway an hour later, his guitar put back into its case and slung onto his back. “See you tomorrow, then?” It’s the same thing he says every day, and just like yesterday and the day before that and the day before that, he doesn’t expect an answer.

Geralt never answers.

He’s halfway out the door when he hears a soft “hmm” behind him.

He looks over his shoulder, golden eyes glancing away when he meets them, and he has to try his very hardest not to cry out his joy for the entire world to hear. Because Geralt just gave him an answer.

He nods once, and heads to the lifts.

---

“Young man.”

He startles slightly when he’s greeted at the doors by a woman in a doctor’s coat, her raven hair falling in waves over her shoulders, her violet eyes drilling into his.

He swallows thickly, fiddling with the strap of his guitar case, nail digging into the leather. “Yes?”

“I’m doctor Vengerberg,” she says, extending her hand for him to shake. He obliges before quickly letting go, wiping his sweaty palm on his jeans. “You’re the man that sings songs, are you not?”

He nods once. “That would be me, yes,” he mumbles, going over everything he’s done in the past week, trying to find what might have sparked her ire.

But her face softens, causing Jaskier to frown in confusion. “And you’re the one who keeps visiting Mr. Rivia, are you not?” He nods again. “What is it that you do in there all the time?” she asks him.

He swallows thickly. “Oh, we just play chess. And I sing to him. We don’t… don’t do anything… inappropriate, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

Her lips curl upwards. “It is not, but thanks for clearing that up anyways-“ she squints at his badge “-Julian. But… is that really all you do in there? Play chess and sing songs?”

“Yes, doctor.”

Her brows knit together slightly. “Huh. Who would’ve thought?” With that, she pushes past him, out of the doors to the ward, leaving him confused in the common room.

He shrugs it away and turns around, heading to Geralt’s room.

The blinds are halfway up, but today there is no sun to illuminate the side of Geralt’s face as Jaskier goes to sit on the other side of the set chessboard. The rain patters against the window, the dim light outside projecting the rivulets onto Geralt’s skin – it’s a sight to behold, and Jaskier finds himself following every drop as its projection slides down Geralt’s cheek.

Amber eyes flicker up to his and Jaskier is shaken out of his reverie, plucking two pawns off the board, switching them a couple of times behind his back before he holds his fists out. Geralt’s gaze never leaves his as he lifts a hand, a single finger tapping Jaskier’s left fist.

He opens it. It’s the black pawn. He hands it to Geralt, before setting his own white pawn where it belongs, turning the board so that the right side is facing him. He waits until Geralt’s set his piece down before he makes the first move.

As Geralt contemplates his, Jaskier picks up his guitar case, taking out the instrument and setting it in his lap.

Geralt moves a pawn. Jaskier moves his knight. He leans back and idly starts plucking a melody, muttering lyrics under his breath. Golden eyes meet his.

“Oh, you don’t mind, do you?” It’s the same question he asks every day. Usually, Geralt will just ignore it and turn back to the game, but this time, as golden eyes flicker down to the chess board, he lets out a soft hum.

“Wh- what?” Jaskier stammers, guitar strings twanging messily as his hand goes limp.

“Hmm,” Geralt hums again as he moves a pawn.

“R- right. Of course, thank you,” Jaskier mumbles, excited blush rising up to his cheeks as he starts plucking the melody again.

---

He startles when he’s greeted by a mop of brown curls and two arms throwing themselves around his neck the second he opens the door to the ward. He laughs in confusion, returning the hug Triss gives him quickly.

“What did I do to deserve that?” he asks her. “Not that I mind, of course, but still…”

She holds him at an arm’s length, smile bright enough to light up the whole room even more than it already is, rivalling the sunshine streaming in through the windows. “Thank you,” she says. “I don’t know what it is that you do in there every day, but please keep doing it.”

“Wh- what are you talking about?”

“Geralt, of course!” she says, as if it’s completely obvious. “I don’t know how you manage, buttercup, but…” She shakes her head, and he doesn’t miss the light sheen over her eyes as she smiles at him. “He slept six hours last night.”

He blinks. “And… that’s not normal?”

She grins, her curls bouncing around her face as she shakes her head. “No, it really is not. Most nights he doesn’t sleep at all, and if he does, well… it’s only for a short while.”

She pulls him closer, rubbing their noses together playfully, just like they’ve always done since they were little kids. It makes him giggle, a wave of nostalgia washing over him.

“Thank you,” she whispers to him. “Whatever it is you do, please don’t stop.”

“Not planning on it. Speaking of, I should probably go now, he’s expecting me.”

“Alright. Oh, are you up for drinks this weekend?”

He nods. “Sure. The Kingfisher?” he asks as he starts walking backwards to the hallway that leads to Geralt’s room.

“Meet me at ten!” Triss half-shouts at him, making a few patients look up in annoyance.

Jaskier gives her a thumbs-up and turns around, practically skipping his way to Geralt’s room.

The blinds are halfway up and Jaskier takes a few moments to look at Geralt as he sits in the sunlight, hands folded in his lap, golden eyes drilling holes into the chess board. Now that Triss has mentioned it, Jaskier does think he notices that Geralt looks a little less tired – the shadows under his eyes aren’t as deep, his shoulders aren’t as slumped, his cheeks even hold a slight dusting of pink, their usual pallidness suddenly lost.

Golden eyes flicker to him, and Geralt lifts his left eyebrow slightly; he’s getting impatient with Jaskier standing in the doorway and staring at him.

Jaskier shakes himself out of his reverie and shrugs his guitar case off his shoulder as he crosses the room, quickly performing their little pick-the-pawn ritual – where Jaskier ends up with white – before he makes the first move, unpacking his guitar as Geralt stares at the board, the heel of his hand under his chin, his fingers resting against his lips.

He sets his instrument in his lap as Geralt makes his first move. Jaskier counteracts it by moving his knight, before he starts plucking at his guitar.

“Are you sure there aren’t any songs you want to hear?” he asks softly, afraid to break the peace and silence in the room by talking too loud.

Geralt moves a pawn. Shakes his head minutely.

Jaskier half-shrugs. “Right, guess I’ll have to pick something.” He sighs. “Don’t feel particularly inspired today, so I don’t think I’m gonna be composing much.”

He moves his bishop. Plucks a few notes. He looks out the window, at the trees in the parking lot and the city park that lies beyond, at the small, green buds on the branches and the crisp green-white of the grass as the night’s frost begins to thaw in the sunshine. He looks at the children playing in the field, at the man throwing a stick for his dog to fetch, at the young couple that sits on the bench, one of them getting up to pick a budding flower from the bushes, handing it to the other.

He imagines what it would be like to sit there in that park, to have the remnants of last night’s cold nip at his fingers and nose, to bask in the sunshine as it warms his back, to pick a flower from the bushes to hand to his lover. His lover, whose hair resembles the frost that coats the grass, whose eyes rival the brightness of the sun, who gives him a crooked grin as he takes the flower without a word-

“How do you feel about ‘La vie en rose’?” Jaskier asks.

Geralt quickly looks up at him before he looks back down at the board. “Hmm.”

He can’t help but smile softly at that, strumming his guitar a few times as he starts to sing. “Hold me close and hold me fast. The magic spell you cast. This is la vie en rose.”

Geralt moves a pawn. Jaskier moves his bishop.

“When you kiss me, heaven sighs, and though I close my eyes, I see la vie en rose.”

The couple outside stands up from the bench, holding hands as they walk through the park, disappearing from Jaskier’s view as they turn a corner.

“When you press me to your heart, I’m in a world apart, a world where roses bloom.”

Golden eyes meet his for half a second, and his breath catches in his lungs, heart beating in his throat painfully. He looks away, Geralt’s gaze too much to bear.

“And when you speak, angels sing from above. Everyday words seem to turn into love songs.”

He wonders what Geralt’s voice sounds like. Sure, he’s already heard him hum out a reply a few times, but it’s never loud enough for Jaskier to get a proper idea of what he might sound like. Maybe one day, he’ll hear Geralt speak. Or maybe he won’t. It doesn’t matter to him – as long as Geralt allows him to stay by his side, Jaskier’s content.

“Give your heart and soul to me, and life will always be la vie en rose.”

He finishes the last few chords of the song, his voice trailing into nothingness. Geralt moves a pawn.

Jaskier clears his throat, setting his guitar against the chair, leaning his forearms on the table. He moves his knight. Geralt moves his queen. Checkmate.

He huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. “Christ, how do you always manage to beat me at this? One day, Geralt, I swear that I’ll win one day.”

The corner of Geralt’s mouth quirks up ever so slightly. He might as well be rolling his eyes at this point.

“Alright, fine, you’re right, I probably won’t. But that won’t stop me from trying.”

He starts moving the chess pieces back into place, Geralt following suit. Jaskier reaches for a black pawn that’s halfway across the board at the same time Geralt reaches for the white one right next to it.

Their hands brush.

Jaskier’s breath catches in his lungs, head spinning as the side of his hand grows hot, even as he jerks it back – as if Geralt’s touch has burned him, has left an everlasting mark on him whose heat Jaskier will feel for years to come, his touch a brand that’ll claim Jaskier for the rest of his life.

He clears his throat and ignores it.

“I, uh…” he says softly. “I won’t be able to be here on Sunday. I’m going out for drinks with Triss on Saturday so I will probably be too hungover to drive. And I can’t be here on Monday, either, since I’ve got a couple of older students who have class in the morning. But I’ll come back on Tuesday, if that’s alright?”

He looks up. Golden eyes drill holes into the chess board as Geralt moves a pawn. He doesn’t hum a response.

Jaskier sighs and turns back to the game.

---

“Thank God you’re here, buttercup.”

He stops right inside the doors to the ward on Tuesday, clutching the strap of his guitar case as Triss hurries towards him, eyes wide and filled with something he’s too scared to identify.

“What’s going on?”

“It’s Geralt.” She grabs him by his arm, dragging him across the common room before he can even think to protest.

“W- wait, what? What’s wrong with Geralt?”

“He’s having an episode. A bad one.”

“An episode- Triss, what are you talking about?”

She sighs, suddenly stopping, pulling him to a halt as well, her hand around his upper arm like a vice. “The past few days, his mental health has been declining. Badly. He hasn’t slept, he’s barely eaten anything, and he just… sits there. Or he paces. It’s really not going well, buttercup.”

He feels something ugly and fearful claw at the inside of his chest. “Triss, I have to ask, what exactly is he having an episode of?”

“He’s got PTSD, buttercup. Hasn’t he told you?”

He shrugs, scratching at the back of his neck. “Well, no. We don’t exactly… talk a lot. But is there anything I can do to help?”

She sighs again. “I don’t know. Maybe. He’s been doing a bit better the past two weeks, ever since you showed up, so I don’t know what you do when you’re around him, but maybe it’ll help today as well. As long as he can get some sleep, buttercup – he really needs to sleep, he can’t go on like this much longer.”

He nods once. “Right. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you,” she says softly, pulling him into a quick hug before letting go. “Press the alarm button if anything happens.”

He snorts incredulously. “Like what?”

She levels him with a look, her eyes flat and tired. “There’s a reason why he’s here, buttercup.”

The words settle in his stomach like stones – even though he has a hard time deciphering what exactly she meant by them – but he nods again, turning around and setting off to Geralt’s room, his heartbeat thudding in his ears.

The blinds are pulled down completely and he has to stand in the doorway for a while to let his eyes get adjusted to the darkness, slowly blinking as he starts to distinguish shapes and silhouettes.

Unlike all the other times Jaskier’s been in this room, Geralt’s not sitting at the table by the window, looking at the chess board. No, this time he’s sitting at the foot of his bed, hands resting loosely in his lap, eyes wide and unseeing as they stare at the wall in front of him – glassy and flat yet full of something Jaskier can’t bring himself to recognize.

Geralt’s hands ball into tight fists, blunt fingernails undoubtedly pressing crescent-shaped bruises into his palms, before they let go, uncurling until they’re relaxed again. And then it repeats. And repeats. And repeats.

Like waves rhythmically lapping at the shores, Geralt’s hands curl and uncurl, tighten and loosen, tense and relax. Over and over again, as his eyes never leave the wall in front of him, as his face remains perfectly still – but not still in the same way as it was when Jaskier first met him. Geralt’s face is not a perfectly sculpted mask he put on himself, not carefully blank and even as to hide any emotional response he’s having at that moment.

No, the best way Jaskier can describe Geralt’s face right now is slack. As if he’s not even aware he has a face to control, as if he’s far, far away from his own body, reliving things that are already in the distant past. As if there is no emotional response to hide.

He sets his guitar against the wall gently, kneeling by the foot of the bed, bringing his hands up to ghost over Geralt’s face – he can’t touch, he can’t. Geralt hasn’t said he’s allowed yet and Jaskier’s afraid he’ll never be able to let go if he does.

“Geralt?” he says softly. “Geralt, it’s me. Jaskier.” Golden eyes stare at the wall blankly, looking right over his head as if he’s not there at all. It’s exactly like the first time he met Geralt, except now it feels worse, because it doesn’t feel like Geralt’s doing this on purpose. It feels like he really doesn’t realize that Jaskier’s there.

“Geralt? Can you hear me?”

His hands curl into fists. Unfurl. Curl again.

He gets up slowly, walking over to the chess board and snatching two pieces from it, switching them behind his back before he goes to stand in front of Geralt, fists outstretched.

“Choose,” he says, ignoring the way his voice wobbles slightly.

Golden eyes stare right through him, unmoving, unseeing.

“Choose.”

Hands curl into fists. Unfurl. Curl again.

Jaskier puts the pieces back where they belong, opting to unpack his guitar instead. If he can’t coax Geralt back into his body with chess, he’ll annoy him into coming back.

He leans against the wall, a little bit to the left of Geralt, where the golden eyes don’t look right through him, but from where he still has a good view of Geralt and his blank expression. And he starts playing.

He plays everything that comes to mind, from half-finished songs to old lullabies to pop hits from the eighties. If it drifts into his head, it drifts into the room. He plays, and plays, and plays, until his fingers are aching and painful, until the callouses on his skin start wearing away, until his voice becomes raw and his throat dry.

He plays, as seconds turn to minutes turn to hours. It slowly grows darker outside, bit by bit, and he takes a five-minute break to drink some water for his parched throat and to lift the blinds. It’s raining. Big, heavy buckets of it pouring from the skies, fat droplets pitter-pattering against the glass.

Jaskier moves back to stand against the wall. He starts playing again.

And bit by agonizing bit, ever so slowly, almost imperceptibly, Geralt’s face turns from slack and empty to something entirely different, something Jaskier’s never seen before. He looks… peaceful. Calm. Content.

Golden eyes slip closed.

Jaskier keeps on playing. He remembers the park outside the window, remembers the couple and the flower one of them picked for the other, remembers the children playing and the man throwing the stick for his dog.

“I see trees of green,” he sings softly, smiling to himself as he remembers the song he used  to hear on his nan’s old radio, back when he was a kid. “Red roses, too.”

He looks up to cast a glance at Geralt. He’s still sitting at the foot of his bed, hands limp in his lap – but they don’t curl and uncurl anymore. They just lay there, calm and peaceful like the rest of him.

“I see them bloom for me and you.” He grins, looking down at his guitar as he strums the chords. “And I think to myself: what a wonderful world.”

There’s a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye, and before he can lift his eyes to look at it, his head hits the wall painfully, dizzying him, making him drop his guitar – which lands with a loud and dissonant twang – and he’s sure he would’ve fallen over if something wasn’t holding up.

Something is holding him up.

He blinks the fog out of his eyes, Geralt’s face growing into focus. Golden eyes – angry golden eyes boring into his, intense in a way Jaskier’s never seen on anyone before. The word feral shoots through his head at the snarl that bears Geralt’s fangs, at the quiet growl being pushed from the back of his throat.

Throat. Jaskier’s throat hurts.

There are two hands around it, blinding pressure pushing him against the wall – the thing, the thing holding him up.

And suddenly everything snaps into focus.

He gasps for breath, trying and failing to get air into his lungs as Geralt’s hands squeeze his throat shut, furious eyes glaring at him as Jaskier’s hands come up to pull at Geralt’s wrists, feet kicking uselessly against the wall.

“G-“ He gasps, wheezes as he tastes blood at the back of his tongue, heartbeat pounding in his ears. “Geralt-“

The golden eyes don’t recognize him.

“P- please, Geralt-“

He gasps and pants and coughs, a useless sob wracking through his useless chest, dark spots dancing across his vision, obscuring all but golden eyes as oxygen runs out. His hands abandon their attempts at pulling that merciless grip away from his throat and slap against the wall.

His fingertip hits something plastic, jutting out of the drywall. The emergency button.

He stretches his arm as far as he can, muscles aching and joints creaking in protest as his fingertips graze uselessly against the button and he’s running out of air and it won’t be long until his lifeless body hangs limply in Geralt’s hands and all he can see is angry, golden, unseeing eyes and the button the button the button the button the button.

He stretches his fingers as far as he can. He smashes the emergency button.

Nothing happens.

He cries out his frustration, though it’s nothing more than a pathetic, little whimper by now, and he smashes the button again. And again. And again. And again.

His head grows fuzzy. His heartbeat thumps in his ears. He can’t feel his fingers anymore. All he sees is golden eyes.

Shouting.

Screaming and shouting and someone is calling for help. Geralt’s hands jostle him around like a cantankerous child with a ragdoll as people try to pull his arms away from Jaskier.

Golden eyes. Golden eyes and Jaskier goes limp, hands hanging by his side uselessly as Geralt’s merciless hands around his throat hurtle him towards death with each passing second.

A needle glints in the light shining in from the hallway.

Geralt’s hands grow looser, bit by bit, and Jaskier desperately gulps in every bit of air his abused throat allows him to. He sobs. He can sob. The fact that he can makes him cry more loudly, face contorting as he grimaces, tears streaming down his burning cheeks. Parts of his world come into view again.

Golden eyes. Confused, golden eyes as eyebrows knit together slightly. Golden eyes, holding a glimpse of recognition.

Golden eyes, rolling into the back of Geralt’s head.

Geralt drops. Jaskier drops with him. Several panicked voices fill the room and there are hands on his body, turning him around, feeling his neck, his pulse and he lets them.

He closes his eyes as consciousness slips from his grasp.

#the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #jaskier #geralt of rivia #geraskier #tw violence #requested #king writes #overuse of the words 'golden eyes' #also one or two very pretentious descriptions that i'm very proud of

[defenderrosetyler]

Short Straw

Prompt from @flamencodiva​ : “Right, who’s drawn the short straw this time?”

Beta: @wonder-cole​

A/N: I love Gen, and I love the couple that she and Jared make, but this is a pure act of fiction and they are not together for the purpose of this fic!!

A/N 2: The song in this fic is Burn it to the Ground from Nickleback.

“Come on Y/N, just go over and talk to him! He’s cute, and attractive, he may even buy you a drink,” one of her friends pestered her. Y/N rolled her eyes as she tugged at her ponytail and tightened it. She’d been keeping her hair pulled back a lot during the Texas heat. She and her friends had been called out to Texas to be extras in the new reboot of Walker the TV show with the one and only Jared Padalecki. Jared was attractive in his previous role of Sam Winchester in Supernatural. For his new role as Cordell Walker, the widowed Texas Ranger? Damn he looked smokin “Drawing of sticks?” Y/N asked.  

Out of the three friends gathered extra straws they had asked for and each took their own, before revealing who had the shorter of the two…. “Right, who’s drawn the short straw this time?” One of the friends said before Y/N’s face lit up bright red. The other two girls giggled, moving to push Y/N towards where Jared had been hiding and not recognized much by the fans in the area. The western cowboy hat was helping conceal who he was. Most Texans had a cowboy hat in this area anyway, so hardly anyone noticed.

Gathering her courage, Y/N grabbed her own brown western hat, swallowed the lump in her throat, walking over toward Jared’s tall shadow. She politely tapped him on the shoulder and he turned and y/c/e met Jareds and Y/n felt whatever words she was going to say to him fall right at the tip of her tongue. His eyes were beautiful, they reminded Y/N of  a mosaic, each sliver of his iris a different color - blue, green, gold, brown. 

“Let me guess, you were the loser of rock paper scissors.” Jared says seeing Y/N in stunned shock and amazement and knew this was common when fangirls approached him. Blinking as she registered what he’d said to her, Y/N nodded embarrassed as her cheeks flushed a bright red color. 

“Is it that obvious?” Jared nodded with a chuckle. 

Of course Jared knew this game. He and former co-star Jensen Ackles, did this all the time; well, in character anyway. Jared and Jensen, aka Sam and Dean Winchester, always won their arguments over a game of rock paper scissors. To which Sam was usually the winner, only on a few rare occasions did the younger brother let the elder win. 

Y/N let out a breath, hearing him laugh, so she wasn’t making a total fool of herself anyway. That was good at least. Rubbing the back of her neck, Y/N tried to feel less awkward. “Can I buy you a drink?” “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” Jared says, his tone could almost be taken as a flirt. “How about this, I buy you a drink, and you owe me a dance out on the floor?” 

It was a compromise. One all y/n could do in response is nod. She did have a drink at her table, but she wasn’t about to turn Jared down. After looking at Y/N for what seemed like forever, he smiled, placing her order to the bartender. Placed in Y/N’s hand was a jack and coke. Something simple, yet not too strong for her; Thank goodness there were such services like Uber and a taxi that could take her home if she needed it. She sure as hell wasn’t driving after all the alcohol in her system. “So, what brings you to Texas?’ Jared asks, trying to start a normal conversation with Y/N. 

After the first round of drinks were completed, Jared held out his hand for her, leaving the woman to blink as she heard the guitar of a song kicked on followed by its bass. Y/N paled. “Jare, no.” 

Jared laughed as he kept pulling Y/N to the dance floor where there was a group gathering to dance with the tune. She’d had enough drinks in her to definitely not be coordinated enough for this. Having looked up the song when she was on her way down, and the dance, Y/N knew she was in a world of trouble.

Well, it's midnight, damn right

We're wound up too tight

Wasn’t that the truth, it wasn’t midnight, but it was damn near close…. Y/N watched the steps for the first round and tried to talk it aloud to herself. Jared was already in the line and kicking up his leg and clearly having fun.

We're going off tonight

To kick out every light

Take anything we want

Drink everything in sight

We're going till the world stops turning

While we burn it to the ground tonight

Y/N took a deep breath and moved in step with the crowd. The steps weren’t difficult per say, but it wasn’t the easiest thing to do. Thank God her boots weren’t terribly high heeled. Her eyes widened when it came to the kicking portion of the dance, and Jared’s leg went as high as his collar bone. When Y/N tried, all she could do was kick as high as her hips. 

The more turns performed, the more Y/N started to let loose around Jared. On one of the turns, Y/N lost her footing and ended up tripping into the taller man's arms, his muscles holding her to his chest. As he helped her stand, Jared’s lips inched toward hers, pressing against hers gently.

The house door slammed as Y/N was pinned against it. She and Jared had shared a few soft kisses in the cab seat of the Uber they’d ordered, using Jared’s card, as much as Y/N had insisted she pay, since he’d bought most of their drinks. Y/N’s panties were soaked, and she hoped Jared knew it. The man had run his hands up to her legs and had stopped at her knees. Damn her for not wearing a skirt. Then again, with that leg kicking, flashing underwear would not have been the smartest choice.

“Jared,” Y/N gasped and moaned. Jared’s kisses were down her neck and nipping at the flesh of her collar bone, his cock hard against his jeans and clearly he needed attention too. “Shh,” he whispered, kissing her, pulling Y/N with him towards the bedroom. While walking, Y/N tried to tug at his shirt, how the hell did he manage to keep that hat on? Oh that's right, he wore button down shirts. The button down shirt was torn open, buttons flying across the wood floor, causing Y/N to giggle.

Jared sits Y/N down on the bed and makes quick removal of her jeans and her black lacy thong, all in one movement. “Hold on tight baby girl.” Jared says as his Cordell Walker accent kicked in and it took all Y/N had in her to not cum on the spot with his words

Before Y/N could let out her next breath, Jared had her legs over his shoulders, his mouth mere inches away from her pussy, blowing warm air just across her sensitive clit. Goosebumps prickled Y/N’s flesh, causing her to shiver, causing Jared to smirk at her. Moans filled the bedroom as Jared continued to work her clit. “You like that don’t you, you little whore” he says. Fingers curled inside Y/N, looking for that ultimate sweet spot inside her, the spot that would leave her cumming all over his fingers and possibly making a mess of his bedding. Oh well, it needed to be washed anyway.

“Jared, please, don’t be a tease.” Y/N begged, toes curling, back arched up as she let out a breath and came over his fingers. She hadn’t gotten a chance to warn him that she was about to be sent into her orgasm, which Jared seemed to be pleased with judging by the hot ass smirk on his face. 

“I never said I wasn’t going to be a tease baby girl,” Jared smirked as he took his mouth and began to kiss her wet pussy lips. Y/N moaned, gripping and tugging at his flesh. He’d chosen to keep the cowboy hat he'd worn at the bar after removing his shirt and damn, could he look more like a country god? Jared’s kisses were slow and gentle, Y/N didn’t mind slow and gentle. What she really wanted was that hot kind of sex you see in the movies.

“Jared, Oh fuck.” Y/N gasped as he brushed her sensitive clit, his tongue swirled inside her trembling walls as she shook as she came against Jared. Moans left her mouth as a half chant and her panting breath. The taller man didn’t give Y/N a chance to fully ride out her orgasm before shifting his position, his cock hovering at her entrance. There was a moment of him rubbing his rock hard cock against her juices. He let out a moan as he eased inside her, pushing all the way inside her till his hips were pressed against her. 

“You like that don’t you, you little cock slut. You knew where the shorter straw was, you knew you wanted me to take you here and fuck you in my bed and make you scream my name didn’t you?” Jared pants in her ear, tugging at her ear lobe, “You just wanted to be my little whore didn’t you?” Y/N was in a state of bliss, wanting to reply to him. Was he a ‘Sir’ kind of man? Or was he a ‘Daddy?’ There were so many kinks running through her head she didn’t know what to think. He was hitting places inside her she’d never had a man hit before. Then again, Jared Padalecki was a lot thicker and larger than any man she’d slept with. Jared’s movements were as smooth as a choreographed dance. Y/N wrapped her legs around his hips. Attempting if it was possible to send him even deeper inside her. “That's right baby, take all of my cock,” He grunted with each thrust, panting as he pushed himself to the edge. Truth be told, Jared had been rock hard seeing her walk into the bar hours earlier. Y/N’s jeans hugged the curves of her hips, ass, her whole body perfectly. The top she’d worn was low cut, it was clear she hadn’t been wearing a bra, could have worn one but with the size of her breasts? She had every right to show them off. 

The bedroom was filled with moans and groans from both parties occupying the bed. Cries of Jared’s name as Y/N worked through each orgasm. Positions changed every so often, Jared even asked her to ride his cock cowgirl style, to which Y/N had no problem taking his hat and smirked as if she’d been riding a mechanical bull at the bar. Jared’s cock twitched inside her as he was nearing his own orgasm, wanting to paint her walls with his white hot cum he’d been holding back for what seemed almost too long. 

Jared had nearly came in her mouth as she’d sucked him off. On her knees in between his legs, her pussy soaked from the orgasm he’d given her before they shifted to Jared receiving a blowjob. Jared was intent on pushing Y/N as far as she was able to, but she looked like she could swallow his entire length. He’d pushed gently to allow her time to adjust to his size, but holy fuck when she had the ability to push past her gag reflex? Damn it was the hottest thing he’d ever seen.

“You gonna cum for me Cowboy?” Y/N smirked as she noticed Jared’s change in rhythm. He was slamming a lot harder now and yet it was slower for a few minutes before resuming the pounding of her pussy. “Where do you want me, you little slut? Want me to cum in this little pussy and let my cum run down your leg so people know you were just fucked?” Jared pants. All Y/N could do was nod, rubbing her over sensitive clit as she’d cried out his name and pulled his mouth to hers as he cried out her name, warm ropes of hot cum exploded from the tip of his cock. As promised, as Jared slowly pulled back, white cum slowly eased out of her pussy, Y/N tried desperately to keep all of it inside her. His cum was so warm, it made her feel giddy inside. 

Jared moved to collapse on the bed, his breath heaving as he attempted to catch his breath. Both of their bodies were covered in sweat. Once able to move, Y/N moved to spoon herself into Jared’s arms. 

“Best sex we’ve had in a while,” Jared says with a smirk.

“Agreed, stranger foreplay made it more fun. I actually was glad I didn’t wear a dress, if I flashed my pussy to anyone else, you’d have gotten jealous and started a brawl then where would we be?” Jared chuckled and kissed her head, brushing away her sweat soaked hair. 

“Once we’re able to move, I’m making you a large ass breakfast.”

Jared leaned up to look down at Y/N, “Is that before or after I ask you to marry me?”

 Tags:

 @simsadventures​​ @mummybear​ @impala-dreamer​ @holylulusworld​ @snffbeebee​ @saxxxology @akshi8278​​ ​ @deansmyapplepie   @luci-in-trenchcoats @samskia-writes @winchester-fantasies​​ @talesmaniac89​​ @stusbunker​​ @idreamofplaid​ @cherrypiebbyblog​​ @cleighwrites​​ @jxackles​​ @flamencodiva​​ @wonder-cole​​ @msmarvelouswinchester​​ @downanddirtydean​​ @janicho88​​ @lacednleathered​​

#jared x reader #spn smut #pwp #request

[starlight-vixen-emiko]

Lukanette June 2021 Day 22 - Sacrifice

@lukanettejune <3

Oh god this is probably the longest one I ever written.

This was originally going to be obvious Marinette and Luka giving their lives for each other but someone else beat me to the punch on that so I decided to do something different....I hope this counts as sacrifice.

This fanfic also contains Adrigami, but just a little.

Enjoy lovebugs!

Marinette was nervous out of her mind right now because Tikki once again encouraged her to confess her feelings to Luka.

In fact, everyone introduced the idea to her. Alya, Kagami, Adrien, even her parents hinted it to her.

But Marinette was understandably nervous.

They were good friends. Luka always said the sweetest things to her, and he was always there for her. But at the time, she thought she was in love with Felix.

But everything didn't go as Marinette planned initially. She came to realize she was blind by love and Felix was a jerk. He even played with her briefly while also flirting with Lila.

Marinette got out of the phase, kicking and screaming. At the end of it, Luka made her smile while playing his beautiful guitar music.

Ok, maybe she should tell him she likes him. She has finally realized it.

But she couldn't shake this guilt of how she chose Felix over Luka a few times and even loudly declared that Luka was a friend, but only because others annoyed her about it.

Marinette heard the sound of Luka's guitar on the school campus, and her heart sang as well. She wanted to run to Luka this time and give him all her attention. But she heard someone else as she turned a corner.

"Your music is very exquisite, Lukakins!"

Marinette's heart stopped, and she saw Chloe sitting next to Luka on a bench.

The bench was facing away from Marinette, so Luka didn't see her. He was just hunched over with his guitar in his hands, and Chloe was busy ogling him, even touching him a few times. It made Marinette's face heat up a bit.

"Not exquisite enough for a gala," Luka said.

"Don't be silly. Your music will be perfect at the gala!" Chloe said.

Just then, Chloe noticed Marinette behind them. Still, Chloe said nothing as she gave a devious smirk at Marinette and placed her hands on Luka's shoulders.

Marinette wanted to get angry, but she realized that she shouldn't start a fight. And that perhaps she had her opportunity to be with Luka, and she missed it.

It hurt to see Luka with Chloe, but maybe this was all her fault.

Marinette turned away, not wanting to see this any longer. Besides, if she truly loved Luka, she would let him be.

He'd probably be happy with rich girl Chloe anyway.

Chloe gave one last smirk as Marinette walked away. Luka finally got out of his sullen state and turned around.

"Who was there?" Luka asked.

"No one!" Chloe cried, but then she realized she was too brash and took Luka's cheek to turn him away. "No one, sweetie."

Chloe smiled at Luka, but Luka couldn't help but think about how he caught a short glimpse of Marinette as she turned a corner.

~~~~

Marinette sat in her room in the dark. There were photos of Felix with black X's painted on and red devil horns drawn taped on her wall.

And at her desk, Marinette was drawing her and Luka in anime chibi form. She thought she would get over this with maturity.

Then there was a knock on her door.

"Come in!" Marinette said as she put her drawing away.

Her big father peaked through the door. "Marinette, how are you doing?"

Marinette chewed on the end of her pen. "I'm doing fine…."

Her father was as optimistic as ever. "Well, can I ask you a favor, Marinette?"

Marinette would mope in her room all night, but she felt maybe she should get over Luka by being preoccupied. "Sure!"

Marinette followed her father down to the living room, where her mother was also waiting.

"Marinette, this is very exciting!" Her mother said.

Marinette was wondering what this exciting thing was going to be.

Tom placed his arm around Sabine. "We were asked to cater for the Paris Gala," Tom said. "We were wondering if you want to cater with us, Marinette," Sabine said with a smile.

Tom winked. "They could use plenty of workers to help feed the masses!"

Marinette was mortified. The Paris Gala would have the mayor present, and Chloe would be present as well. And she would probably bring Luka as well. She wanted to leave Luka be and show support to him with a smile.

Marinette shifted nervously. "I'm not sure…."

"Marinette…" Her father gave her puppy dog eyes. "It would be super helpful."

"And you could make some extra money, my dear," Sabine said.

Marinette then realized her parents wanted her to do this the entire time, and at this point, she couldn't say no.

The night of the gala was on the top floor of the city hall building. Marinette wore her maid waitress outfit and had a slightly sullen look on her face as she helped prepare everything. She tried to reason with herself that tonight would probably just be a mundane night as she prepared the fancy stack of macarons. There were pistachio, strawberry, mint, passionfruit, and other flavors.

Marinette hummed a song to herself as she finished stacking the tower of macarons.

"Well, this looks delicious!"

Marinette shifted around to see Chloe alongside Luka. Luka looked blank-faced, but there was a glow in his ocean blue eyes that Marinette couldn't read, and Chloe looked triumphant. 

"You did well, Miss Waitress," Chloe said in a charmingly mocking tone that caused Marinette to raise her eyebrow.

"Yeah," Luka's voice made Marinette's heart stir. "The macarons look delicious," Luka gave a small smile.

"May I?" Luka asked.

Marinette couldn't speak at first, her face was glowing red, and she couldn't stop it.

"Yes, enjoy!" Marinette said as she got out of the way so the guests could pick their macarons.

Marinette imagined how seductive it would be to feed Luka a pistachio macaron while wearing her maid outfit, but that daydream was shattered when she saw Luka trying to eat a pistachio macaron only for Chloe to place a passionfruit macaron in his mouth.

Marinette couldn't take this and walked away to the dining area to take care of napkins and cutlery. Sure she wanted to put her foot down and protect Luka, but there was technically no one to protect. He was clearly her date.

Soon the guests got in their seats, and the lights were starting to dim for the entertainment. 

"Our first performance will be by a young talent named Luka Couffaine," said the announcer.

Marinette's heart leaped. Chloe must've agreed to get him a performance spot.

"Oh, Luka…" Marinette thought. His singing and guitar playing always caused her own heartstrings to play music.

"Everyone be seated as the performance is about to start," the announcer said.

Marinette almost mindlessly poured water into the guests' glasses until the sound of two voices caused her to snap out of it.

"Marinette?"

Marinette blinked and nearly spilled the water as she noticed she was at a table Adrien and Kagami sat at. Both of them had stunned looks on their faces, and Marinette tried to compose herself.

"" Good evening," Marinette said. "Can I get you two anything?" She really did mean what she said since Adrien and Kagami were some of her best friends.

Neither Adrien nor Kagami were phased by Marinette's act.

"Why are you here, Marinette?" Kagami asked.

"And why is Luka with Chloe?" Adrien asked with a bit of disgust.

Marinette could only bring herself to shrug as she turned around at the sound of guitar tuning. She couldn't get her eyes off him as the blue spotlight shined on him, and he started playing a gentle tune. Everyone in the audience almost completely had undivided attention for the young guitarist.

"What day is it? And in what month? This clock never seemed so alive."

Marinette smiled to herself as she went back to serving the guests. Luka's song caught her heart even if she was trying to move on, but his song still comforted her.

"I can't keep up, and I can't back down. I've been losing so much time."

Now Marinette couldn't help but glance at Luka, and she started to wonder if he was looking at her. Marinette just tried to look away dutifully as she placed plates of food on tables.

"Cause it's you and me and all other people with nothing to do…."

"Nothing to lose."

"And it's you and me and all other people…."

"And I don't know why...I can't keep my eyes off of you."

Adrien and Kagami held hands while they listened to Luka's romantic song. But they both gave each other knowing looks after glancing at both Luka and Marinette.

"There's something about you now. That I can't quite figure out!"

"Everything she does is beautiful!"

"Everything she does is right…."

Marinette walked out of the dining room and into the hallway. She leaned against the wall and clutched her hand on her heart, trying to ease her pain before going into the kitchen.

"Marinette!" Kagami cried.

Marinette nearly had a heart attack screaming as she realized Kagami and Adrien followed her.

"Marinette, we need to get you in a ballgown!" Kagami cried as she took Marinette by the hand.

This was a drastic change in plans Marinette wasn't anticipating.

"Wait!" Marinette cried as she tried to resist. "If I leave the job, my dad will ground me until I turn 18!" She cried.

"I'll handle it. Just go!" Adrien said as he gave Kagami and Marinette a gentle shove.

Kagami quickly dragged Marinette to get dressed, and Marinette nearly fell over a few times trying to keep up.

~~~~

Luka stood with his hands around him as it was almost about time to dance in pairs. Honestly, he'd rather just be a wallflower for the night. Luka watched the pairs spin round and round. Eventually, a young lady in a gown and a ponytail smiled at him again.

"May I have this dance?" She said with her hand outstretched to him.

Luka took a breath and then composed himself. "Sure," he said as he gave her his hand.

Chloe had her hands on his strong chest as he spun the both of them around. Luka felt the world spin as they spun around along with all the other dancing pairs.

Soon Kagami entered the room, holding Marinette by her arm. Marinette wore a sparkling sleeveless pink gown and wore a mask, so hopefully, her parents wouldn't spot her.

Marinette grimaced at the sight of Luka and Chloe dancing as a pair and Chloe enjoying every moment of it. She felt discouraged now because she saw they were together, but Kagami gave Marinette a gentle shove on the arm.

"Don't worry, you can do this!" Kagami said.

"Do what? Make a fool of myself?" Marinette thought bitterly.

Just then, Adrien also made his appearance wearing a butler outfit and holding a serving tray in one hand. He expertly held some drinks on top of the tray.

"At your service, ladies!" Adrien said with a wink. 

Kagami smiled at her dorky boyfriend, and Adrien's eyes gleamed as he stood by Kagami's side.

"Oh lovely Miss Kagami, how may I be of service?" 

Kagami giggled. "Try to give Marinette some encouragement."

Marinette found herself walking away from Kagami and Adrien's tomfoolery. She felt she could use the other exit and leave Luka be.

"Don't worry! Just dance like there is no one else in the room!" Adrien said. "I do it all the time!"

Marinette sighed to herself and got a glance at Luka dancing with Chloe again.

Even though she sacrificed her own feelings for him, for some reason, she couldn't stand to see him with Chloe anymore. She got glimpses of Luka's blue eyes and didn't see their usual light.

Maybe she should at least let her feelings be known.

But Marinette tried to walk closer to them, but she ended up bumping into a few dancing pairs.

Marinette yelped a few times, and some of them loudly told her to watch where she was going.

This was undoubtedly going wrong!

"Sorry!" Marinette cried.

She promptly ran out of the dancing area to avoid more collisions, but then she ended up falling down. Marinette sat on the ground in her dress, thinking she couldn't possibly look more ridiculous.

"Wait!"

Marinette looked up and saw Luka trying to break away from Chloe's grasp. Chloe had an excellent hold on his wrist, but eventually, her fingers slipped, and Luka moved toward Marinette.

He then held out his hand to her. His blue eyes glowed, and he gave her the most adorable smile.

Marinette took his hand and felt his warmth as he helped her up.

"If I can ask, have we met?" Luka said.

Marinette blushed and couldn't bring herself to say anything.

"Luka!" Chloe cried. Her eyes were fierce. "I thought you agreed to be my date!"

Luka seemed a bit irritated now. "Chloe, I thought you only wanted me to come as a friend."

"Oh," Chloe moved a step closer in Luka's personal space, shadowing Marinette. "We could always be more." She said as she was about to reach for Luka's cheek.

"No!" Marinette cried. 

Chloe gave Marinette an icy stare, and Luka's mouth dropped.

"No!" Marinette repeated. "Because I like Luka…... And I should've told him a long time ago." Marinette hung her head.

This is the exact opposite of what Marinette intended to do, but at least the truth finally came out.

And Luka gently took her hand, causing Marinette to lose her breath for a brief second.

Chloe groaned. "Fine then! Date that plain Jane! See if I care, rockstar!"

Chloe stomped out of the room, and Marinette couldn't help but smile as her presence was finally gone. Luka took a moment to squeeze her hand, but then a twinge of guilt returned to Marinette, so she released his hand.

"Luka, I'm sorry!" Marinette cried.

Luka's eyes went wide as he tried to comfort her with his touch again, but Marinette still refused.

"I wanted to confess to you, but I wondered if I was too late after all those times I put Felix over you like a lovesick idiot, and then I saw you with Chloe and felt your happiness should come first."

Just then, Luka placed his hands on Marinette's shoulders and pulled her closer. Marinette couldn't help but wrap her arms around him and find comfort from him.

"I still love you, Marinette," he said gently. "I just thought I should put my feelings to the side because you liked Felix."

Marinette held him tighter. "No!" She cried in his chest. "I realize now I was obsessed with Felix! It wasn't love! I love you, Luka! I love you so much and…."

She was so happy to have him in her arms now.

When the gala started slowing down, Luka and Marinette sat at a table with Kagami. Kagami gave a pleased approving look.

"There is much better energy when Luka is with Marinette," Kagami said.

Luka gave Marinette such a loving look to Marinette with his ocean blue eyes that made Marinette bashful.

Adrien walked to the table holding a tray. He took one of the plates and set it down to Marinette and Luka. It was a plate of pasta noodles and sauce.

"For you two!"

Adrien turned to his girlfriend. "And for the lovely Kagami-Sama. The chef's special strawberry shortcake." He placed the other plate down next to Kagami.

Kagami blushed. "Thank you, Adrien. You still look like a handsome prince in that waiter outfit."

Adrien blushed back as he held the tray close to him. "Aw, thanks! It was fun too! Even if some of the guests were like 'Mr. Agreste! What are you doing serving tables?!'"

Kagami and Adrien took a moment to laugh, and Marinette and Luka took a moment to eat the pasta.

"Marinette!" 

Marinette and Luka nearly choked on the pasta when they saw Marinette's father looking a bit disappointed.

"Papa!" Marinette cried. "I can explain!" Marinette nearly hid under the table cloth in panic.

Tom shook his head. "You walked out on being a waitress to dance at the gala!"

Marinette bit her lip, and Adrien stood up. "Mr. Dupain! I took care of catering for Marinette! Please don't be mad at her!"

"I should ground you, Marinette," Tom said sternly.

"I convinced Marinette to do this!" Kagami cried. "Please don't ground her."

Tom turned around and threw his hands up. "And you got your friends involved as well. I would ground all of you if I could."

Adrien and Kagami were unphased by that remark.

"You'll never ground me as badly as my mother does. When she grounds me, she throws me in the dungeon!" Kagami said.

"And when my father grounds me, he places me in a soundproof room with no technology for 6 hours. Sometimes 10 hours for good measure!" Adrien cried.

Marinette was trying to stifle her laughter, and then Luka took her hand.

"At least allow me to take Marinette out to dinner and a movie before you ground her, Mr. Dupain," Luka said.

Suddenly Tom became less angry as his eyes widened by the revelation.

"Marinette, you are finally dating Luka?" Tom said.

Marinette smiled and shrugged, and Luka wrapped his arm around her, smiling.

But after a pause of happiness, Tom spoke,

"Well, your mother and I should still ground you, so no movie dates for now."

Marinette sighed in defeat.

Adrien and Kagami, however, managed to convince Tom to let Marinette stay a bit longer. The dining and ballroom area was nearly empty as the gala was over. Adrien and Kagami sat at the piano.

The fancy ballroom was so tranquil with just the four of them.

"This one's for you two," Adrien said as he prepared his fingers. "Congrats on finally dating."

Adrien played a piano version of Luka's song, and Luka happily offered his hand to Marinette.

The two of them danced as if they were flying. A dance was so much more energetic and magical when feelings of love were shared. They both made significant sacrifices that led to misunderstandings. Still, it was even bigger proof of the love they had for each other.

Author’s Note: Oh god...This fanfic nearly killed me, I just wanna go back to writing short fanfics but I kind of like this one.

The song I used for this fanfic is “You and Me” by Lifehouse, possibly one of my favorite romantic songs ever! I may have dedicated this song to guys I liked in the past.

Again I hope this counts as sacrifice with both Marinette and Luka putting each other’s feelings first...That counts as a sacrifice right?

Anyway, I hope you lovely lovebugs enjoyed and I will see all of you next prompt. It’s going to be a treat!

#lukanette #pro lukamari #otp #adrigami #my writing #my fanfiction #lukanette june 2021

[niksixx]

New Generation: Meet the Kids

I know many of you have been waiting patiently for anything New Generation related, and I am happy to say I have finally completed a list of the NG kids! I hope you enjoy reading about my little characters, and I can’t wait to write a few little stories about them. 

A few shoutouts first. To all of you who have contributed to the characters’ personalities by sending in messages to my inbox, thank you. You have all made this series possible. I did my best to incorporate my own vision of the NG kids as well as your ideas to create something fun for us all. Second, a big shoutout to @pepeu-stuff for inspiring me. They have gone out of their way to draw a few characters (Farrah, Ezra, etc.) with their own interpretation and have inspired some of the traits for my characters. I truly cherish all of you, and I hope you enjoy the NG kids as much as I do.

A/N: Also, this is just a fanfiction. I tried my best to incorporate Crüe’s and GNR’s personalities into their ‘children’ but we all know kids can 100% be completely different from their parents. 🤗

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Meet the Sixx Kids

Nash Sixx 

Nash Sixx is the nineteen-year-old son of Nikki Sixx. He has dark hair and blue eyes with specks of green and a jawline most men would kill for. Like his father, he has an outgoing personality and a killer smirk that’s manipulated people into giving him what he wants more than once. He’s a college student that is studying music education, as he would like to be a music teacher. One of his best friends is Declan Rose, and he’s taught Declan a few tips and tricks when it comes to schmoozing the ladies. He’s also a big partier, and loves having his friends and cousins over to his college apartment. Nash’s favorite pastime though is sitting around the bonfire, glass of whiskey in his hand, while his father tells him stories of life on the road with Mötley Crüe.  

Harlow Sixx 

Harlow Sixx is the six-year-old daughter of Nikki Sixx. She has dark brown hair with clear blue eyes and free-spirited energy. Harlow and Penelope Lee are a package deal and will go nowhere without each other. She’s creative by nature, and sometimes will paint during rainy days. For a six year-old, Harlow is ridiculously intelligent. And just like her father, she has interests in photography and art.

Colby Sixx

Colby Sixx is the two-year-old son of Nikki Sixx. He has Nikki’s natural light brown hair and light blue-gray eyes. He loves finger painting with his sister, playing with toy cars, and putting together puzzles. 

Meet the Lee Kids 

Penelope ‘Penny’ Lee

Penelope ‘Penny’ Lee is the five-year-old daughter of Tommy Lee. She’s a little girl with wavy brown hair (usually in pigtails with little bows attached), big brown eyes, a love for bright pink tutus, and has a bubbly, outgoing personality. She’s the spitting image of her father, and she has him wrapped around her tiny little finger. Penny Lee enjoys her dolls, her teddy bears, and tea parties. She’s been raised to be an independent child and loves exploring nature and making pretty flower bouquets. Penelope can be friends with anyone, and at five-years-old, she’s already shutting down the bullies who make fun of the other kids at preschool.

Meet the Mars Kids

Dillion Mars 

Dillon Mars is the seventeen-year-old son of Mick Mars. He’s tall, lanky, with soft brown hair, blue eyes, and a sarcastic attitude. He’s not as quiet as his father, but he has his moments. Dillion tries not to take life too seriously, which is why he and Isaac Stradlin get along extremely well. Dillion has no interest in school, although he’s extremely smart in math and science. He’s president of his school’s mathletes club though he was pressured by his teachers and hates disappointing others. Most of his time is spent on the living room aimlessly playing his guitar,  Luckily, Dillon did not inherit his father’s bone disease, but he is a huge vodka drinker and occasionally will smoke cigarettes with the Stradlin twins and Ryan McKagan.

Meet the Neil Kids 

Katerina ‘Kat’ Neil 

Katerina ‘Kat’ Neil is the eighteen-year-old daughter of Vince Neil. Kat’s thin blonde hair is usually styled straight or into two space buns on the top of her head with a few pieces framing her face. Green eyes the color of emeralds, she’s the chick every girl wants to be, and the girl every guy wants to be with. Katerina is friendly to all, but she’ll never let anyone take advantage of her kindness. As a senior in high school, she takes pride in being the captain of the cheerleading team, a lead choreographer in the dance club, and the president of the drama club. While the most popular girl in high school could have any boy she wanted, there’s only one boy that Katerina has ever been interested in. Unfortunately, that boy is Declan Rose, the son of her father’s arch enemy, Axl Rose. 

Carson Neil

Carson Neil is the fifteen-year-old son of Vince Neil. Carson’s shoulder length blonde hair resembles his father’s, and he was gifted with a singing voice that could cure the world’s problems. He’s mature for his age, which is why most of his friends are a few years older than him. Carson can be a bit stuck up though and a bit of a prima donna. When he’s not busy rehearsing lines for his school's theater productions, Carson is confined to his room blasting Aerosmith, Ozzy Osborne, and writing his own lyrics to songs he’ll never share. 

~~~

Meet the Rose Kids

Declan Rose 

Declan Rose is the eighteen-year-old son of Axl Rose. He’s the spitting image of his father, except with shorter ginger hair with longer pieces framing his freckled face. Declan is unique in the fact that he refuses to follow in his father’s footsteps. While he enjoys listening to rock and his father’s old vinyl collection, Declan prefers hip-hop and rap music, much to his father’s dismay. Like Axl, Declan is extremely intelligent, and would decide to major in philosophy or psychology in college. He also does have his father’s temper, and while sometimes his father was misunderstood, Declan is lucky to have Katerina Neil around. She calms him down and supports his true personality, even if they have to keep their relationship hidden from their parents. 

Easton Rose 

Easton Rose is the eight-year-old son of Axl Rose. Easton was lucky enough to inherit his father’s hair color, but instead of the long locks, Easton’s hair is shorter and usually styled with gel. The eight-year-old is as stubborn as they come with a hyper and fiery personality to match his hair. He’s an athletic young boy who is also extremely personable and will talk to anyone. He’s impatient, especially when he wants his older brother Declan to help him with homework or play baseball in the backyard with his best friends Logan Adler and Hunter McKagan. Easton is a little flirt and has no problem charming ladies of any age. Easton also has a big crush on his brother’s girlfriend, Kat. 

Calla Rose 

Calla Rose is the five-year-old daughter of Axl Rose, and she is the queen of the household. Calla is the only child with blonde hair, but every now and again Axl dyes pieces of her pink (with temporary spray on hair color of course) to match the large gemstone on the tiara she wears around the house. Calla Rose is quite shy around other people, and it takes her a good twenty minutes before she’s able to muster up the courage to play with other children in preschool. Axl Rose is fully wrapped around his daughter’s finger, and it’s not shocking to catch them in the midst of coloring, ballet dancing, or playing with dolls. 

Willa Rose 

Willa Rose is the four-month-old daughter of Axl Rose. She’s a chubby baby with ginger hair and big hazel eyes. She loves making faces at her big sister and listening to her daddy as he sings her to sleep at night. 

Meet the McKagan Kids 

Ryan McKagan 

Ryan McKagan is the sixteen-year-old son of Duff McKagan. If teenage girls could use one word to describe this boy, it’s this: heartthrob. He’s tall with wavy blonde hair and a welcoming smile, it’s no wonder the girls in high school drool over him. Ryan can be found exercising (as he’s a hockey player) or running around his neighborhood five days out of the week. Ryan does smoke cigarettes and drinks on occasion, much to his father’s disapproval. Ryan tries not to take life too seriously and would have definitely picked up on some of his dad’s lame jokes. Around his neck is the letter ‘F’ attached to a gold chain as it’s the first initial of his girlfriend’s name, Farrah. Even if they have a rough relationship (thanks to Ryan being a typical flirt around other girls) he’s confident Farrah is the girl for him, so he never takes the necklace off. While Ryan didn’t necessarily inherit many of his father’s traits, what he did receive is the ability to sing. His father has taught him how to play guitar, and they’ll sit on the porch outside in the fall, singing and strumming to Guns N’ Roses old songs.

Hunter McKagan

Hunter is the seven-year-old son of Duff McKagan. Hunter’s hair is darker than his older brother’s, but lightens up in the sun. The seven-year-old boy loves to swim and skateboard (lessons are provided for free by Dillon Mars, Issac Stradlin, and Ezra Hudson), and he’s an absolute terror when he chases his family around the house shooting Nerf gun darts at them. He’s also the reason Duff cannot find his cowboy hats, as Hunter will usually steal them and wear them throughout the day. 

Meet the Hudson Kids 

Ezra Hudson 

Ezra Hudson is the eighteen-year-old son of Saul ‘Slash’ Hudson. Ezra is a bit shorter than his father, and yet could be his brother. Ezra was blessed with the most beautiful curls, and unlike his father he usually keeps them out of his face with headbands or ponytails. Ezra doesn’t have just one style, either. Somedays, he’ll dress head to toe in leather. Other days he prefers flannels and jeans, or button ups and khakis. Ezra is definitely a gamer. He also enjoys hiking, fishing, and hunting. He’s also into music, but is still learning how to play acoustic guitar. College is not in the cards for Ezra, as his dream is to form his own band. As for Ezra’s love life, he’s a total chick magnet. Unfortunately, he’s invisible to the only girl he wants: Isabel Stradlin. 

Mali Hudson 

Mali is the six-year-old daughter of Saul ‘Slash’ Hudson. She and her sister Maya were also blessed with their father’s glorious curly hair, and they’re damn proud of it. Mali’s hair is only to her shoulders, which is how you can tell twin from twin. At just six-years-old, little Mali has a plethora of hobbies such as origami, bracelet making, and flower pressing. Many of her crafts are given to either her parents or Farrah Adler. 

Maya Hudson

Maya is the six-year-old daughter (also the oldest twin between herself and Mali) of Saul ‘Slash’ Hudson. Maya has no problem wearing identical outfits with her sister, but their personalities couldn’t be more opposite. Maya loves to wrestle with her older brother and cousins (especially Declan who refuses to wrestle back for fear of hurting her) as well as having interests in dinosaurs, rock climbing, karate, and reptiles (she convinced her family to adopt two snakes and a lizard). 

Meet the Stradlin Kids 

Isaac Stradlin 

Issac Stradlin is the seventeen-year-old son of Izzy Stradlin. With dark shaggy hair, bright eyes, sharp jaw and toned body, Isaac comes off as intimidating at first glance. He can be intense about the things he is passionate about (music, poetry, history) but more often than not Isaac is laidback and easygoing. Isaac’s musical knowledge comes from what his father has taught him through the years, and he’s incredibly talented when it comes to playing instruments such as guitar, drums, keyboard, flute, and trumpet. He doesn’t particularly enjoy his father’s dark and gloomy style of dress that includes black jeans, black button ups, and even black hats, as he feels more comfortable in sweatpants and tank tops. As Isaac is the only boy that doesn’t mind babysitting and playing with the little girls, he has accidentally found himself a fan club whose members consist of Penny Lee, Calla Rose, Harlow Sixx, and twins Mali and Maya Hudson. 

Isabel Stradlin 

Isabel Stradlin is the seventeen-year-old daughter of Izzy Stradlin and the younger of the two between her and her twin brother, Isaac. Isabel marches to the beat of her own drum and has what most would call a ‘bone to pick with the world’ attitude. Isabel has had many different styles, but her current wardrobe is grunge. Isabel considers herself a humanitarian, constantly joining in protests while simultaneously volunteering at homeless shelters and soup kitchens. Because of her compassionate heart, it’s no secret that she and Farrah Adler are inseparable. Isabel would inherit her father’s artistic ability, but her art would range from pottery to graffiti portraits. 

Meet the Adler Kids 

Farrah Adler 

Farrah Adler is the sixteen-year-old daughter of Steven Adler. Her blonde hair is mostly straight with a few layers here and there, and she has the same vibrant and playful eyes as her father. Farrah’s style is mostly hippie influenced (but on occasion she can rock a leather jacket and bandana), and she has more of a laid back personality, something she absolutely did NOT get from her dad. As someone who treasures the beauty of the Earth and its creatures, Farrah would join in rallies such as ‘save the sea turtles’ and volunteer at animal hospitals, where she discovered her calling as a veterinarian. Oh, and she’s 100% vegetarian. Farrah has a peaceful aura, so it shouldn’t come as a surprise that she enjoys yoga, astrology, essential oils, journaling, and smoking weed. She also has an on-again-off-again relationship with Ryan McKagan, who she drags to many wildlife rallies.

Logan Adler 

Logan Adler is the nine-year-old son of Steven Adler. He has wavy blonde hair past his neck, playful gray eyes, and a love for drumming. Logan inherited his father’s happy-go-lucky spirit, and loves to meddle into his sister’s business when he’s not playing sports or building legos. He definitely is the class clown and loves being the center of attention, which usually results in him being sent to the principal’s office. He’s a jokester, a prankster, and loves getting into trouble.

#niksixx new generation kids #motley crue fanfiction #guns n roses fanfiction #motley crue imagines #guns n roses imagine #nikki sixx #vince neil #mick mars #tommy lee #axl rose #saul hudson #steven adler #duff mckagan #izzy stradlin #gnr fanfic #motley crue fanfic #80s fanfic

[sleekervae]

The Neighbour [1.6]

Masterlist

Trigger Warning: fluff, just lots of fluff, and Emerson being a cranky bitch in the morning 😅

Water spattered across the ground, collecting soap suds and bubbles and taking it down the brief journey to the waterfall down the sewer grate. Remington gripped the nozzle of the hose, grumbling to himself when he saw sparing spots of dirt left in the crevices of his car wheels. He squeezed the spring on the hose, unleashing another blast of cold water that ricocheted off the metal and splattered over Eva while she relathered the mitt in the soap bucket.

"Hey!" she nearly jumped out of her skin from the shock, and despite the heat the cold wasn't a welcomed surprise.

"Sorry, babe," Remington chuckled sheepishly, continued to spray down the tires and aiming the nozzle away from Eva, "I didn't think getting dirt off tires was going to be a chore in itself,"

Eva shrugged, wiping the droplets off her skin and she started lathering the roof of his 69 Mustang with the wash mitt, "Well, you wanted to try hand-washing the car instead of... you know... taking it to a car wash," she pointed out, "The big spinny brushes and rollers make it look easy,"

"But this is a classic car!" he replied, "All the experts say you have to hand-wash classic cars. They're too delicate for the big machinery. Besides, this is a fun summer thing to do; wash a car on our own,"

Eva smirked, "You also just like seeing me in a bathing suit. That's why you asked for my help, right?"

"Obviously," Remington nodded with a smirk of his own, "But you didn't get the memo," he motioned to her grey t-shirt and shorts.

"Well, why aren't you in a bathing suit, then?" she asked, pressing against the driver door to reach the middle of the roof.

Remington glanced at his own muscle tee and shorts, shrugging nonchalantly, "These are my swim shorts. Would it make you feel better if I took my shirt off?"

Eva rolled her eyes, "Wash the dirt out of the tires, Rem," she shook her head, grinning regardless.

He did as he was told for a brief moment, waiting until Eva came back around with the bucket before "accidentally" splashing her with the water. She froze at the impact, the mitt splattering across the ground and her jaw fell open from the shock. Remington feigned innocence, tittering under his breath.

Annoyed, Eva grabbed the soapy mitt and tried to whack him with it in retaliation, sparking an all out water fight between them. More water splashed across the road and the soap bucket was within an inch of its life from being knocked over, and the echo of their laughter carried through the normally quiet and distant neighbourhood.

A woman a few houses over had popped out to hang her laundry on her clothes line, and upon hearing the commotion glanced down the street, in shock and awe to find a young couple goofing off with a hose and a soap mitt. She smiled with endearment, the infectious and overwhelming joy the two of them radiated was something that was definitely missing from this tragic year.

Remington dropped his hose and made a grab for Eva, sweeping her off her feet and placing her on the hood of the car. Her excitement had drained into quiet, nervous giggles, her hair and clothes near fully soaked in water, and surely he looked just as much of a mess as she did. He brushed her wet hair from her face with his cold fingers, her lips still radiating warmth as he kissed her, neither of them caring that they were packing the PDA.

"You bitch, I just washed my hair," she chuckled against his lips, trying to feign annoyance and failing miserably.

He smirked in that devilish manner that he knew drove her wild, "I'll just have to clean you up,"

There was a sudden loud scraping noise, and from the front window upstairs Emerson stuck his head out, clearly having just rolled out of bed as his hair was a messy nest and his eyes were heavy.

"Hey!" he called down to them, "You're supposed to be washing the car! Not each other!"

Remington glared up at him, "Well, that's going to come after!" he called back.

"Rem!" Eva smacked his chest.

"Did you just wake up?" Remington asked his brother, "It's after eleven!"

"Why are you surprised at this point? You should be worried if I don't sleep in," Emerson rolled his eyes, "Just don't have sex on the car! We don't want to be those neighbours,"

Eva's face went bright red, "Go back to bed, Emerson!"

The younger drummer shrugged, going to close his window, "You don't have to tell me twice,"

Remington just shook his head as the bedroom window was shut and the curtains drawn, "That kid sleeps more than a fucking koala,"

Eva chuckled as she jumped back onto the road, "Well, c'mon. Break time's over and the tires won't clean themselves,"

The Mustang was finally cleaned -- and Remington made good on his promise to help Eva "clean" up. It went without saying that Eva was a little more open to shower sex after that afternoon. She finished tying back her wet hair into a short ponytail, blushing in the mirror when she saw the faint discoloration spots on her neck. It wasn't just the hickeys that put her in a good mood, it was the sparkle in her eyes, the flush in her chest, the all around happiness that exuded through her from the folds of her ears to the ends of her toes.

Her phone began to vibrate on the counter where she'd left it, and she rolled her eyes once again when she saw the Blocked Caller ID pop up. She declined the call.

Her bare feet swept across the cold hardwood floor as she ventured back into the bedroom. Remington was sat on his bed, his guitar in his lap and his phone by his leg. The curtains were drawn back, letting in a beautiful hue of natural blue and white light that filled the atmosphere. When he heard her just outside his door, Remington quickly closed the Notes app on his phone and shoved it under his leg.

Eva sauntered in, glowing as she usual in her now dried shorts and top that had tumbled in the dryer earlier. She took a brief glance out the window, smiling at the sparkling visage of the 69 Mustang on the boulevard.

"Sick ride," she commented.

Remington grinned, "You'd think it was cleaned by professionals," he replied, shifting over as she came to sit beside him. He smelled of his rich shower gel and shampoo, the pink now fading in his ever growing hair, unspiked and swooping just over his forehead. She reached up to run her fingers through the back, scratching gently at his scalp and he closed his eyes and leant into her touch.

"It's getting longer," she smiled warmly.

"I think I'm gonna' grow it out," he said, brushing his own finger through the front, "Last time I had long hair, the school made me cut it off or they'd kick me out,"

Eva rolled her eyes, "Let me guess, you went to Catholic school,"

"Christian. But close enough," he nodded, "How do you feel about vampires with long hair?"

"The same way I feel about vampires with pink hair," she said, reaching up to kiss the tip of his nose.

Remington brushed his fingers through her own hair, the ends coming to stop at the edge of her jaw, "Would you ever grow your hair out?" he asked.

Eva shrugged, "Maybe. But I like it shorter, anyway. It's easier," and she glanced over at the guitar, quick to change the subject, "What are you working on?"

"Just practicing," he plucked dully at the tight strings.

"No new songs?"

"Not yet," meanwhile, the phone under his leg seemed to burn a hole through his shorts, "You ever play the guitar?" and she shook her head, "You want to learn?"

"Sure," she smiled. Remington sat up against the headboard, moving the guitar so she could sit comfortably in his lap. Resting the guitar on her crossed legs, Remington placed his hands over Eva's, kissing her shoulder briefly and he started running through basic chords.

By the better part of half an hour, Eva had the novice knowledge to play the chorus to Ma Chérie. She played with admirability, despite the growing pain of blisters on her fingers. And she certainly wasn't as skilled at Remington or Sebastian, drawing out wonky melodies with frequent pauses in between. Remington found her all the more adorable with every whispered curse that flew out from her lips when she messed up or missed a note.

"You make it look too easy," she whined, pouting as she set the guitar down.

Remington chuckled as she moved out of his lap, curling up on the pillow and staring up at him with her big blue eyes, "You giving up?" he asked teasingly.

"I don't give up," she replied, "I just bitch and complain until I'm motivated enough to try again,"

"Just let me know when you want to try again," he smirked as he pulled the guitar back into his lap, strumming a random chord before glancing at her jovially, "Any requests, my darling?"

She shrugged as she thought it through, tucking her knees to her chest with a giddy smile, "I want you to play me the most romantic Palaye song you can think of," she decided.

"And here I was about to tear into Massacre," he chuckled again, not having to think on the request hard as the perfect song came to mind. Eva watched with intrigue as he readjusted the guitar and the soft twanging melodies drifted from the pass of his fingers over the strings, clearing his throat as he sang in time with the gentle, familiar tune of Stay.

And Eva couldn't have picked a better song.

"I see you for what you are

It's something in your eyes That look past my scars So where do you go when you leave in the night?

'Cause I see those teary eyes"

She stayed still as a stone, just listening, feeling, get lost in his baritone that struck her ears and whittled into her bones, shuddering against the cage of her heart. Her eyes climbed the expanse of his chest exposed by his unzipped hoodie, tracing the ink of his tattoos as sure as she would with her fingers, memorizing him from the drawl in his voice to the small dips in his muscle.

"I am the only hope for you

You are the only hope for me too I just wanted you I just wanted you

So stay this time

So stay This time

This time"

Remington couldn't bring himself to look at her while he sang. He had done it before, at the album party, in the car, he had sung to her plenty of times. This felt different somehow, the promise of a song he wrote well over a year ago striking an important chord with him. Just being with Eva felt like hope, like he had certainty that he would never have to stray back into the dark places his mind would burrow so long as he was drawn to her light. As long as she would stay with him.

Eva lifted her head from the pillow, watching him with those stormy blue eyes and that stunning smile that made his heart rattle within his chest. The music went quiet as they locked eyes, the guitar forgotten entirely as he pulled her into his lap and caught her in a searing kiss, her fingers twisting in his hair and her lips tasting of her sweet lip balm. He could never let her go, for surely he would never be the same if he lost her. And when he pulled back to stare into those beautiful big eyes of her, the adoration, the sheer love reflecting back was enough for Remington to know that she wasn't going anywhere.

They belonged to each other...

#palaye royale #Palaye Royale fic #Palaye Royale imagine #palaye positivity #remington leith #Remington Leith imagine #emerson barrett #sebastian danzig #stay #the bastards #fluff #fluffy #boy bands #emo boys #band imagines #band imagine blog #band blog #original story #original female character