#maybe clover too? honestly i see him as a little lean with a bit of weight. i like that for him | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

littlemissayu · 8 months

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TWST Boys as ✨ PARENTS✨(Part 1)

TW: kids, pregnancy, reader is depicted as female, domestic, fluff

ft. :Heartsabyul, Savanaclaw | pt.2 ; ft. Octavinelle & Scarabia | pt.3; ft.Pomefiore, Ignhihyde | pt. 4; ft.Diasomnia

Riddle Rosehearts-

This man only has 1 kid, maybe 2 but that's kinda pushing it. I think he would be so worried about messing up his child the way his mother messed him up. He'd be strict yet dotting on his children; like he'll make sure their homework is done by a reasonable time and then praise them for doing really well on an assignment, especially if it's a subject they genuinely struggle with. If I'd say a boy dad or girl dad honestly, I think it could go either way, but I'm leaning towards boy dad.

Trey Clover-

I heavily believe he will have a big family anywhere from 4 - 7 kids. And these kids are absolutely close in age because I know the two of you are gonna get very busy, it feels like you're always pregnant with other people. Just imagine Trey with a mini him (or you) helping him crack the eggs in a bowl while they're wearing matching aprons <3. He would be a gentle parent but would put his foot down went he needed to. When it comes to girl dad or boy dad I can only think both!!

Cater Diamond-

At first he wasn't sure he wanted kids bc kids are a lot to take care of, but after the two of you being together and going through so much. He realizes deep down he did want to start a family with you. He would probably want only one or two but your first pregnancy you end up with triples; then you two said that's it until you got pregnant again with twins!!(My headcanon that Cater's special magic makes it more likely to have twins, triplets, etc come for here!!). It wasn't what the two of you anticipated but you couldn't be happier

Your pair of triplets ended up being 2 girls and a boy, then your twins were girls. He's a very fun dad always staying on top of the trends and slang. He has a hard time laying down the law with his kids sometimes, so you have to do it most of the time but when he really has to he does. *Bonus: You guys have 4 family photo shoots a year, and multiple photo albums*

Ace Trappola-

He probably has 3-5 kids, but from time to time it feels like you have 4-6 kids. He's always getting into trouble with them, playing pranks on you and others, even each other. There is no quiet in your household, it doesn't exist til everyone's asleep. Your kids are the most playful and competitive children you've ever seen, but they know to dial it back from time to time; Ace told them "When your mom says it once, she might be joking, if she says it twice she more likely serious so listen, if you make it to three....your the only name going on that tombstone". You guys are the most chaotic adorable family ever.

Deuce Spade-

He has 3 kids and not a single one of them is male, bc this man is %100 a GIRL DAD!! At first he was nervous about messing her up but after your first girl turned 3 and your second is 1, he couldn't imagine having a boy. He is the most proud girl dad you'll ever see. Is so protective of his amazing girls(that includes you btw), would fight off mosquito if it bit one his girls, no matter have stupid he looks. Spoils his little girls in any way he can, luckily you're there to make sure their not TOO spoiled.

Leona Kingscholar-

This man has 2 children and always makes sure one never feels less than the other. He knows what it's like to be stuck in your siblings shadow so he tries to make sure that never happens to his kids. While he won't always be present since he is still part of the royal family and therefore will have certain royal duties to fulfill; he will always do his best to be there for his kids. He does sleep less then he did before since his life is busier, but he always makes sure to take a nap everyday so when he's with his wife and kids he'll be able to be in a better mode to see his beautiful family. He would have one girl and one boy.

Ruggie Bucchi-

3-8 kids. His kids are the rowdiest, sneakiest kids you've ever seen. Although most of the time they're super sweet(to you). The first time you two talked about kids you agreed on only 2, but after having your first 2 rascals. You two got some more baby fever and ended up having only a few more. You did have a good paying job so you could take care of your little pack of children. The Bucchi household never has a boring day because there is always something really exciting or crazy that is happening. Overall he has more girls than he does boys. You first daughter stays a daddy's girl <3, but dw he loves all his kids equally!

Jack Howl-

4 kids, an even amount. He isn't the most expressive Dad but his kids can tell how he feels based on body language and physical acts. While to others it may seem as if he couldn't care less about his kids, it is the complete opposite. Always making sure their ok, celebrating their accomplishments, and always encouraging them to do what they love. His kids can tell through these small acts that he loves them. Your husband loves to take early morning runs, ofc but when your kids are babies he would take them in their stroller so they can get some fresh air to get them in a good mood. He does that so that maybe if their baby is in a better mood you won't have to much stress when trying to figure out what they need; it makes both of your lives easier. At first the two of you though you'd only have boys bc of your first 3 but then low and behold, your last kid was a baby girl<3!!

Heartsabyul Masterlist

Savanaclaw Masterlist

TWST Masterlist

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danses-with-dogmeat · 3 years

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could you do the anxious tics prompt with fo3 and new vegas companions? sorry, i think i’ve asked you to add characters a lot but i just really love your writing ^^”

FO3 and FONV Romanced! Companions react to Lone's/Six's Anxiety Tics

Here you are, my love. Please never feel bad about requesting more people! It's honestly what I live for, and I loooooove making content for the FO3 and NV folks, since I feel like there's a lot less written about them in general 😊

So thank you so much for the ask!

Here is the prompt with FO4 Companions!

FO3

Butch:

The flash of large red-framed letters had caught Butch’s attention as the pair stood waiting to speak to Doc Church outside his clinic in Megaton. “Whatcha got there, babe?” he had asked, before realizing that it was, in fact, exactly what he had thought. Lone blushed as they looked up at him, hiding behind the pages of their comic book. “You really kept that? After all these years?” They had nodded to him, explaining that it was a sort of security blanket for them, that they could always count on reading the same story, seeing the same happy ending each time they looked between the pages, each time they felt uncertainty or stress, they could count on Grognak to see them through it. He grinned whenever he saw them with it, often curling up beside them, or leaning his head on their shoulder to try and read along with them. In these cases, Lone had to read the pages slower than they normally would, reading the same comic book over and over for the last 10 years means you can skim through it pretty quickly, but they don’t really seem to mind. Now they get to watch as this person that they care so much for enjoys the comic book they relied on and adored for so long.

Charon:

The ghoul was curious about Lone’s tendency to nap directly after dealing with stressful situations, but he decided not to voice any inquiries. His companion would explain themself if they wanted him to know more. One day, they did. Lone had thanked him for always looking after them while they rested off their anxiety, and mentioned that it was something they couldn’t help. Charon had nodded at them, acknowledging their gratitude, before his blue eyes had narrowed in his effort to process the rest of what they had said. It seemed strange to him, sleeping off nerves... Wouldn’t that make it more difficult to sleep? He decided that the logic of it didn’t really matter, whatever it was that caused it, he would look after his partner as they took the time to rest. Soon enough, they would beckon for him to join them, leaning against his shoulder or laying their head in his lap as he kept watch over them. A scarred hand would come to run softly through their hair, or graze lightly over their arm as they dreamed away their anxieties alongside their watchful partner.

Clover:

Lone wasn't quite sure why, but it seemed to them that Clover was always so handsy whenever they became anxious. They had to admit, they didn't necessarily mind it, but she always seemed to get frisky at the most inopportune times. Meanwhile, Clover just can't seem to figure out why Lone is always casting hints her way in the middle of stressful situations. She gets it, she totally is picking up what Lone is putting down every time they draw their bottom lip between their teeth and gnaw away so suggestively, but do they really have to do that right now?! Once Clover finds out it's just Lone's way of coping with their anxiety, she feels sort of foolish… but that doesn't stop her from getting a little turned on whenever Lone does it, even though the timing is usually inconvenient for both of them. But after the trouble and stress has passed, Lone will certainly need to blow off some steam, right? If that’s the case, Clover is more than ready for it.

Cross:

Cross often noticed when Lone had trouble focusing, she tends not to miss a thing, especially when it comes to her Lone. When she sees her partner struggling to keep their attention trained on the person speaking to them, she usually will step in and ask if the person can speak to her companion again at a later time. Her direct and clear way of speaking is a relief for Lone when they are experiencing tension, as their listening becomes almost ineffective when they are being spoken to during times of high stress or anxiety. Paladin Cross understands this, and pays particular attention to speak slowly and with great care in these times. Due to her affinity for speaking this way normally, she and Lone tend to never have issues with communication; which evidently, tends to keep Lone from becoming anxious when they’re around their partner.

Fawkes:

Within his first couple weeks of traveling alongside Lone, the mutant noticed their need to constantly snack. When he decided to inquire about it, and they hesitantly explained their habit to stress eat, he wasn’t sure he understood it, but he knew that he had his own ways of dealing with his nerves, which came in the form of wringing his hands whenever he became anxious. So, if this is how Lone deals with it, he will accept it without question. It wasn’t until one fateful day, when Lone had realized they were completely out of snacking material and they were on the brink of a breakdown, that they realized Fawkes had taken their words to heart, as he reached out a large hand, filled to the brim with an assortment of their favorite snacks from one of his pockets. All this time they thought he only kept ammunition in there, turns out, their partner always had a well-stocked stash of their anxiety-repellent hidden away for cases just like these. They smiled coyly as they took a box of snack cakes, and a tin of crisps, settling down beside Fawkes as he lightly ran his hand up and down their back as they leaned into him, their breathing already beginning to return to normal with each passing moment.

Jericho:

The ex-raider always thought it was a little annoying, the way his companion would stutter at him every time something got dicey, or when they had to deal with some sort of verbal confrontation. It was painful to watch, and when he brought it up to them, and they stuttered back an embarrassed response, he realized it was well out of their control. It would still bug him, and he might make an off-handed comment about it every once in a while, but the more he saw that those comments weren’t funny to his partner, the more they glared at him as he laughed at his own rude jokes, he decided he should refrain from such talk. Lone hadn’t developed a thick skin like most wastelanders he was used to, and certainly not like most raiders; and he would have to constantly remind himself of that. After his realization, he wouldn’t say a word about their stutter again, and God help anyone who did. You mention his partner’s stutter, you’ll probably have one too by the time he’s done with you. If you still even have a tongue, that is.

FONV:

Arcade:

The doctor almost flinched at the feeling of Six’s fingers wrapping around his thumb the first time they did it, but he managed to keep his composure and simply utter a sarcastic comment in response to their sudden action. But when their stress passed, and they explained that it was a tic of theirs that they had trouble controlling, he immediately understood. Not only was he a doctor (so you know, he has pretty extensive knowledge regarding things of this nature) but he’s also had his own lovely tangles with anxiety in the past, and can’t really blame Six for their habit (despite the fact that he has absolutely no tics of his own to deal with). However, his understanding of it doesn’t mean he isn’t going to make some sort of humorous comment on the action whenever it occurs. At Six’s annoyed expression he says that he is simply trying to lighten the mood a bit, maybe distract them with his humorous musings. Six thinks he must not have a clue that he exercises his own coping mechanism (ahem, sarcasm) whenever their gesture makes him uncomfortable, so they end up trying to keep themself from grasping onto his thumb to the best of their abilities. But, to be honest, they’re relieved when Arcade begins reaching over his hand to them in times of stress, his eyes avoiding theirs, and his comments going unuttered, but his thumb extending outward to allow easy access nonetheless. This gesture usually results in a kiss on the cheek for the doctor when his partner has gotten through their bout of stress.

Boone:

He had noticed it when he first met the courier, the way they couldn't look him in the eye. Boone hadn't been sure if it was just him, considering his constant need to wear sunglasses and his somewhat stoic demeanor, or if it was the way they were with everyone, but either way, he didn’t mind in the slightest. When he found that it was a result of their anxiety, he simply nodded to them in understanding, and the pair went on their way. The sniper honestly wasn’t big on direct eye contact himself, another boon of wearing sunglasses was being able to keep your eyes trained wherever you liked, and so people tended not to notice his own habit of avoiding eye contact with them. He threw the idea out to Six one night, and soon enough the pair wore matching sunglasses nearly all the time. And though, as he said, he didn’t mind Six’s habit one bit, the knowledge that they only looked people in the eye when they felt completely comfortable and at ease with them made it all the more special when they did decide to look into his eyes when the pair was talking, or sharing a tender moment. In those little instances, Boone liked to study the details of his partner’s eyes, committing their warm and vibrant glow to memory, paying distinct attention to their unique shape, and the way their pupils dilated as they gazed back at him. He only wondered if they noticed his eyes doing the same in return as he took in the details of the one he loved.

Cass:

The caravaner always tends to offer some form of alcohol to Six whenever she sees their leg shaking in such a way. Cass is familiar with the side effects of withdrawal when she sees them, and she'll try to help her partner to the nearest drink as soon as she can. When Six finally asks her about why it is that she offers alcohol to them when they’re feeling stressed, mentioning that it maaaaaay not be the most healthy coping mechanism for anxiety, she is a bit confused. They were anxious!? Strange, she only tends to shake like that when she hasn't had a drink in a while. With the knowledge that it’s a nervous tic of theirs, Cass uses it to her advantage to better tell when her partner needs to take a load off, or blow off some steam. At the sight of their leg thrumming away, she’ll give their thigh a pat to get their attention, and then ask if there’s anything she can do to help them. As luck would have it, a stiff drink does tend to give Six the time to calm their nerves, so that trend isn’t completely abandoned once Cass has found out the truth about Six’s habit.

Raul:

"What's the matter, boss? Can’t find the right word? Lo siento, mi corazón, English isn't my best language, but I can try and help if you want." Raul is… confused at first. Whenever Six snaps their fingers, he can't seem to figure out if they're trying to find the right word to say, or if they happen to be looking for something, maybe they're trying to keep time, or make a beat? Maybe they’re counting something, trying to remember a phrase? Once they tell him it’s just a nervous tic they have, Raul looks a little embarrassed at the fact that he didn’t assume this earlier on. The ghoul tries not to pay much attention to his partner’s habit, since he knows it must make them a little self conscious when people point it out, but sometimes he can't help but snap along, trying to make a little song to go along with their own improvised rhythm. When Six does finally notice his contribution, Raul just likes to wink at them in response, flashing a playful little smile as they blush in embarrassment at the fact that he caught them doing their nervous tic.

Veronica:

When Veronica noticed that her partner had pierced ears, she was ecstatic. Ecstatic, and jealous. She always wanted to pierce her ears, to find or make her own pretty little earrings to decorate herself with, but alas, ear piercings were certainly not within the limits of Brotherhood dress and decorum. Given her interest in them, it’s no surprise that she noticed the way Six twisted the backs between their fingers, twiddling the bits of jewelry absent-mindedly whenever they became stressed or nervous. Often times, Veronica would reach a hand out to gently pry their fingers from their earring, pulling their hand to her lips so she could give it a small kiss before bringing it to settle somewhere else, to keep them from damaging the little bits of jewelry in their ears that she envied so much.

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darling-i-read-it · 3 years

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Pendent

Hannibal Lecter x reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: prison

Author’s Note: I hope you like this dear! It’s always nice to write for Hannibal, he’s such an elegant character and everything he says is so fun

Requested: by @lzzygeekk, Hi!! I just see that you still take request , so can I have Hannibal x reader. the reader visit Hannibal in prison when she remember in tender side or so specific memory. Maybe Hannibal made a quote from Chilton book know the she married the Chesapeake reaper. With the prompt that in found : " you give out pieces of yourself to people but never let them see the whole picture. I see it and I know who you are" ❤️❤️

Summary: the request

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

Your home seemed so big without Hannibal. You thought about it all the time, his absence. When you made dinner you would stand in front of the fridge for far too long, knowing that when you married Hannibal you thought you would never have to make a meal in your life. You wanted to bring food to him but Alana didn’t allow anyone to do that. You could see him but no gift giving.

Not even on his birthday. You had a stack of presents in a corner, waiting for the day he would come back home again.

You leaned against the kitchen counter, eating a cup of pudding. You weren’t really focusing on eating. Your thoughts were wandering. You had on a record of one of Hannibals’ old classical vinyls. You started to sway as you sat, closing your eyes and imagining what he would be doing if he was there.

He would likely chastise you for eating a pudding cup when you could have a full meal. Then again, he was feeding you people.

At the memory of that your eyes snapped open and you took a deep breath, shaking your head. You put the pudding cup down beside you and slid off the counter. You had the dining room windows open, causing a chill to go down your spine at the cold.

The phone rang.

You jumped but then briskly walked over to the phone and picked it up. You stood up straight, just as Hannibal would have. You didn’t really think about it as you did it. Perhaps you were just subconsciously trying to have him here in other ways.

“Hello?” you said. Your voice cracked a bit. You realized then you hadn’t spoken in hours.

“Hello, Y/N?” Alana said in her professional voice. The two of you had been friends before Hannibal went to prison but when you wouldn’t divorce him she started to drift away from you.

“Yes. Is everything alright?” You looked down at your hand, messing with your wedding ring.

“Yes everything is fine. Hannibal was asking to see you. He says that it’s your birthday today. Happy birthday.” You looked over at the calendar that was hanging up. It was your birthday. How could you have forgotten? You rubbed your eyes.

“Yeah uh, I’ll be there soon.” You hung up the phone and walked to go and get your coat.

====

You walked up to the behavioral hospital. Your shoes hit the stone as you walked up the stairs, holding your bag close to your side. You walked up to Alana’s office and she was sitting at her desk waiting.

She stood up at the sight of you, a polite tight smile on her face. You gave her a soft nod. She gestured to the door, grabbing her keys off of the desk.

“Shall we?” You nodded.

“We shall.”

She led you down the familiar hallway. The hallway that had become your constant companion when you went to see your husband.

She unlocked the door that led to his cell. She gestured for you to go in and you did. She closed the door behind you, not following. Hannibal stood up from his desk. You noted that Alana hadn’t taken away any of his things this week.

He walked over to the glass.

“Happy birthday my darling,” he said with a gentle smile on his face. You smiled back at him and eased in his presence. It was so nice to be with him. If only Alana let you in the cage. You pulled up a chair and he did as well so you were sitting as close to each other as you could get.

“I forgot it was today. I thought it was tomorrow,” you said honestly, laughing a bit.

“You did have a tendency to forget the date.”

“Clearly I still do,” you joked. He pulled something from his small pocket and put it in the sliding glass container. He pushed it toward you. You opened it up a small box. Inside was a tiny necklace with a golden heart pendant. “How did you get a hold of this?” You meant for it to sound joking but it came out in awe.

“I have my ways.”

“I have your stack of presents still in the corner of the bedroom,” you said, taking the necklace out. “It’s beautiful Hannibal. Thank you so much.”

“It reminded me of our honeymoon in Florence. I had Alana to get it for me. Do you remember the beautiful pendants they had on the street we stayed in?” You laughed a tad, reminiscing on the moment.

“Of course! I wanted to stay at your family's estate but you insisted we didn’t.”

“I didn’t want to be reminded about such sad things on such a happy occasion with you.” You thought about that trip. It truly had been magical. Hannibal knew all of the places to go and see and he was beaming the whole trip. If you thought it wasn’t possible to love him any more, that trip proved you wrong.

“Oh do you remember that street performer? The singer?” He nodded fondly.

“He sang one of my favorite songs. What luck that was. We were filled with luck on that trip,” he said.

“If you’re referencing the four leaf clover I found then you’re very right, we were filled with luck,” you said laughing. Hannibal watched as your face moved and smiled with adoration. He wished he could touch your cheek, kiss your chin, run his fingers through your hair. “It was only fitting to have such a wonderful honeymoon after a wonderful wedding.”

He didn’t want to bring it up at first. He didn’t think it was necessary but he said it anyway.

“I believe Frederick Chilton said something similar.” You scoffed.

“Chilton said ‘It was only fitting to have a crazy wife to accompany her undiagnosed husband’. In reference to eating the food by the way. I thought the food tasted amazing, perhaps I am crazy.” He smiled slightly.

“You liked the way I prepared it.”

“Everytime. You know I had a pudding cup for lunch today?”

“On your birthday? Goodness gracious,” he said, shaking his head disapprovingly. “I’ll break out just to make you a decent meal and then I’ll come right back.”

“I wouldn’t let you come back.” His face fell a tad. The fact that he was gone clearly had an effect on you. He wasn’t surprised about that but it pained him to see nevertheless.

“You’re not crazy. There’s not one thing Chilton got right in that book.” You nodded.

“Because you give out pieces of yourself to people but never let them see the whole picture. Chilton is not an exception. He got the psychiatrist Hannibal Lecter and a little bit of the cannibal but not nearly enough.”

“Do you see me?”

“Of course I see you. I know who you are.” He smiled and put his hand on the glass. You put your fingers up against his, just an inch of glass between the two of you. That inch proved to always be a nuisance.

“Happy birthday my love,” he said again.

“Thank you Hannibal.”

Alana watched and listened from the cameras. She felt a pang of guilt seeing your hands almost touch. She was tempted to open the door herself but knew better. He may not kill you but he would not hesitate to kill Alana. It was a promise he likely intended to keep.

#hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal lecter imagines #hannibal imagines

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sugar-lemons-yellow · 3 years

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“Pretty Flower”~ Choi Jongho x fem!reader smut/fluff

Warnings~~ virginity taking, Jongho being hella sweet and soft, oral(f&m receiving), unprotected sex, dom!Jongho, shy!reader, I think that’s it. Let me know if I missed any!

Enjoy!

“Flower.” You heard a familiar voice call out to you from your apartment door followed by a gentle knock

You grinned instantly knowing who it was. You ran to the door with an extra pep in your step only caused by need to be in his warm,strong embrace. You bit your lip in anticipation as you quickly opened the door fumbling on the locks from time to time. Once you finally get the locks to budge and unlock you’re greeted with the most lovely sight. Him. Jongho.

“Hi!” You say in a low but excited tone

“You don’t have to be so shy, flower.” He chuckled as he pulled you in for a hug and a long awaited kiss

You two pulled away only to stare and blush at each other.

You didn’t quite understand why you were so shy around him. You were comfortable with him of course you just couldn’t shake those butterflies you had when you two first met.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sweet sound of his voice.

“What are you cooking over here?” He led himself to the kitchen allowing you to instinctively follow

“I’m only boiling the water right now. I wasn’t expecting you to be here this early I’m not even really dressed.” You tugged at the bottom of your hoodie

“I like what you have on.” His hands slid up your arm to the neck line of the hoodie

“You know I need this back right?” He asked lifting your chin to look up at him

“Stop looking down, flower. I won’t be able see your pretty eyes.” You looked up at him closing your eyes

“Now you can’t see them.” You giggled

“But I want to see them.”

“But you can’t.”

“You’re being unfair.” You could hear the pout in his voice causing you to laugh and smile

“Just ask,stem.”

“Stem?” He laughed at my new nickname

“You always call me flower,so I’ll call you stem.” You two sat in a brief moment of silence before busting into a fit of laughter

“Can you open your eyes flower?” He managed to get out through his laughter

You opened them grinning. “Yes.”

“I still wonder how i was able to get this lucky.”

“Well maybe you should call me clover instead of flower,stem.” You grin at your own joke which you thought was funny

“Two things. You’ll always be my flower and don’t call me stem. It’s a little weird.”

“Why I think it’s really cute.”

You can’t help but laugh at his expression of seriousness.

Jongie, you can’t have a flower without a stem!” You push out along with your laughter causing him to become more annoyed

“I’m going to give you a two second head start.” He said in the plain expression ever

You only smiled at him. You couldn’t help but smile at him. He was your little stem and there was nothing he could do about it.

“You aren’t going to take your head start?”

You shook your head no still giving him the most innocent smile.

He shrugged his shoulders and unexpectedly picked you up making your shriek and laugh.

“STEM PUT ME DOWN!”

“Stop calling me stem!” He said back taking you to the couch

“STEM I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU-“ that’s all you managed to get out before being gently slammed on the couch

You hit the couch back first,with your legs slightly spread. You didn’t notice but Jongho sure did.

His pants started to feel tight and he turned to the side. He couldn’t help feeling that way. It was just the way your legs spread invitingly and the way you looked so innocent and shocked did it for him completely and it didn’t help the line of wetness he saw leaking to the outside of your panties.

“F-flower close your legs.” He said with a tone from him that you never heard before

That tone turned you on even more. That tone did something to you and you wanted to make him talk to you like that again.

“No I’m comfortable. Maybe you should sit next to me.” You spread further, biting your lip as your hands go down to play with the hem of your panties

Jongho’s head turned slowly towards you. He was extremely turned on at this point. He wanted to leave your apartment and take care of himself elsewhere but you voice was like honey and he was the bee.

He walked over to you slowly, not sure what was about to happen.

“Y/n, close them.” His voice was much lower now and you were mindlessly moaning for him to say your name again

“But I really want you jongie.” You whimpered and sat up, facing him

He looked in extreme distress. His head was in his hands and his cheeks were red. He wanted you too but it was only your 5th month dating and he knew that you were a virgin.

“Are you sure about that?” He turned his head towards you awaiting your decision

You looked down and all of a sudden your shyness came back. You still wanted him you were just scared.

“You won’t hurt me on purpose right?” You reached over and rubbed his thigh earning a low grown from him

“Never.”

Upon hearing those words you laid back and spread your legs as wide as they could go.

“I’m ready.”

He instantly climbed on top of you kissing you positioning himself between your legs. The make out session got hot pretty fast but you were craving more and so was he. You bucked your hips up against his throbbing bulge growing increasingly. The action caused you both to move and for him to get the green light to go further.

His hands slid down to the bottom of his hoodie only to lift it up and slide his hand up and down your bare sides. Continuously grinding down on you made you wetter and wetter to the point there was a small wet stain on his pants and you were about to cum.

Jongho noticed this and pulled away at the last minute making you whine at the loss of friction. He pulled his hand out of his hoodie at stared at you. Your hooded eyes; red,swollen lips; and the blush running all through your face was was like magic to him.

His dominant aura was too much for you to handle but you wanted more. You were putty in his hands, falling apart but trying to stay together. You needed him to ruin you.

“That needs to come off.” His tone snapped you out of your thoughts and you quickly came out of the hoodie revealing your bare breast

He smirked and was happy at your eagerness to comply. He unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his pants. He slid them down taking his underwear with them allowing his length to be free and spring up to hit his stomach.

You stared at it wide eyed shocked at how big it was. You licked your lips as you took it into your hands. You didn’t know how to do what you knew he wanted you to do but you were going to blow him away.

You let it go, crawling towards him slowly.

“Your going to tease me now?”

You hummed in response.

“The couch isn’t that big.”

“I know Jongie.”

You finally reached him after what felt like forever. He looked down at you, sucking his bottom lip in, thinking about how your lips would feel around and he needed to feel it.

“Flower you’re wasting time.”

You felt a huge pit in your stomach. You were honestly lost. You seen this a lot in the porn you saw on the internet. You didn’t know what to do at all and it was scaring you. You sucked in a huge breath and let it out as you took his cock into your hands.

You gave it a small squeeze gaining a hiss of pleasure from him. You smiled up at him innocently before sliding you one hand up and down along his length. You had started slow and you were moving incredibly slow and and was killing him.

“F-flower ahhh move faster.” He managed to moan out

His encouragement was all you needed and the praise washed over you immensely causing you to want to do more.

You continued with your hands as you swirled your tongue around his painfully red tip.

“Mmmm flower please do it again.”

So you did but this time you put your mouth on it. He shuddered slightly,smiling at you letting you know you’re doing great.

Still working your hands you began to move your head up and down as your tongue swirled his head repeatedly. You’re mouth was watering at this point causing some of your saliva to slide down his cock and he loved it.

Jongho was lost in ecstasy at that point and he could no longer contain himself. His hand went to grip your hair as his hips began to thrust into your mouth.

You gagged slightly making him stop.

“I’m sorry are you okay?”

“Yes it’s just a reflex. I actually liked it.” You grinned at him

You opened your mouth again as he slid his cock in. He started fucking your mouth again, Moaning and groaning loudly.

“Ahhh my pretty flower.” He pushed out

His moans and praise made impossible for you to contain yourself as well. You took your free hand and slid it into your panties. You hand explored your incredibly wet pussy. You were surprised yourself at how much was there. You began to rub your swollen, hard clit. You moaned at the amazing feeling.

Jongho on the other hand was close. Dangerously close. He somehow bought himself to a stop and pulled his cock out of your mouth. You gasped for air as you continued to rub your pussy.

Your actions we’re not ignored as you were given your next order.

“Take those panties off and lay back.” You obeyed instantly spreading your legs for him

He eyed you pussy hungrily as he pressed his thumb to your clit. You shook and closed your legs not before he forced them back open.

“Don’t close unless I say.”

Your head nodded quickly. He smiled at what he accomplished. He looked up at you biting his lip.

“Tell me flower, what do you want me to do?” He asked

“Can you do what I did to you?” You whispered

He simply nodded and kissed your inner thighs teasing. He got to your pussy after littering your thighs with kisses. He drug his finger from your hole to your clit, rubbing softly when the got to the hard nub.

“Jongie....” you let out a weakened moan

“Do you want more flower?” He whispered as he rubbed your thighs calming you down

You answered yes. He leaned his face down and licked a long stripe up your slit. You gasped at the new feeling, it was honestly wonderful.

You were so sensitive and Jongho knew that and he loved it. He licked another stripe before solely focusing on your clit. His tongue flicked all over the nub at a fast pace and you didn’t want him stopping. Your legs threatened to close but Jongho held them open.

“Please don’t stop!”

He only went faster at your request. Your moans were so loud at this point and he didn’t want to stop but he couldn’t let you cum just yet do like before he pulled away.

You whined and pouted, angry because he stop just when your high was soon to be reached.

“Jongiiieee!” Your inner brat was coming out

“Don’t be bratty flower.” He answered back opening your legs or at least trying to

“Open flower.” He smiled

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Y/n.” That stern tone was back and it made your knees go weak

He noticed this and it turned him on so much. You were so submissive and he dominated you completely. He pried your legs open to see some of your wetness spread.

He bit his lip and looked down.

“Flower I don’t have any condoms.”

You had to think of something quick. You both needed and wanted this.

“Just cum on my stomach it’s okay.” You answered putting you leg up on the back of the couch

“Before I go in are you completely sure? We can stop right here if not.” You looked deep into his eyes

“Yes Jongie completely sure.” He smiled at your answer as he began to line himself at your entrance

You bit your lip in slight fear but also in anticipation. He rubbed his tip against your soaked slit opening your lips.

“You ready? It’s going to hurt.” He asked one more time

You let out a deep breath and nodded yes. He held your hands and pushed into you slowly. You bit your lip at the pain and tears started to form in your eyes.

“You’re so tight and wet.” He groaned

He fully pushed in and he sat there letting you get use to him.

“You okay? I didn’t hurt you too bad did i?”

“I’m okay!” You smiled and wiped your tears once he let your hands go

“Can I move?”

“Yeah.”

He started to move in and out of you slowly, picking up the pace as he goes along. Moans started to fall from both of you as the pain turned into complete pleasure.

“Can you move faster please?” You asked

His only response was lifting your leg on to his shoulder allowing him to go as deep as possible. His pace picked up soon after. He was pounding into gently and it felt so good.

You were soon starting to feel an unfamiliar knot in your stomach. He was starting to twitch inside of you and you could feel it. The knot in your stomach started to grow and it felt like it was going to burst. Little did you know that knot was your building orgasm and you needed it.

“I think I’m about to come!” You moaned out loudly

He could only groan in response. Your knot got as big as it could get and it suddenly bursted making you scream in pleasure.

Jongho followed soon after. His strokes were getting sloppy and he stay in any longer. He got as close as he could then he pulled out and came on your stomach. He slid it back in helping you ride out your high.

He pulled out completely smiling down at your shocked state. His eyes followed down your body to the pool of cum sitting on your stomach.

“Let me clean this up.” He grinned at you getting up heading to the kitchen for a paper towel

You sat up on your elbows taking in what just happened. You looked around the room seeing that it returned to normal after seeing stars a few minutes ago. Jongho returned with the paper towels. He began wiping your stomach.

Your eyes met with his enjoying this sweet moment of silence. You two could only stare and blush at each other like before.

“You okay flower?” He asked throwing out the paper towel in nearest garbage can

“I’m fine just a little sore.” Your smile turned into a wince as you swung your legs off the couch

“Be careful I don’t want you being in pain.” He held your hand starting to guide you

“No no I’m okay really.” You reassured him

You started to slightly limp to the bathroom. Jongho followed behind making sure you were okay. You giggled feeling his presence behind you.

“Just to let you know the pot is burnt so we might have to order food.” You both started to laugh

“Are you still staying the night?” You asked remembering why he came to your apartment in the first place

“Yeah. Do you want me to leave flower?” You just grinned knowing how upset he was going to be at what you said next

“Of course not, stem.” He glared at you and of course you just laughed

“Let’s just shower and forget that stupid nickname.” He answer so plainly

“Fix your face stem or else you’ll be showering alone.”

He put on a fake smile eliciting a light chuckle from you. The rest of that night included movies, food, and well of course, Flower and Stem.

#choi jongho #jongho x reader #jongho #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #ateez smut #jongho ateez #ateez jongho #ateez fanfic

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nightingaelic · 3 years

Note

POODLES IN THE WASTELAND

i jest I jest

But 👀

What about pets? Either ones companions would have or a very uncommon one that someone wouldn’t think was a good pet, BUT IS. Deathclaws you can ride like a pony, mole rats that want belly rubs, cazadore’s as cattier pigeons! What are your thoughts?

Or like, Danse or Piper or Fawkes with something hilarious Idek ignore me

Oooookay, here’s my comprehensive list of companions - ALL companions, across Fallouts 3, 4, New Vegas and 76 - and their (headcanon) choices in wasteland pets. I’ll give a little explanation for each - particularly as many of these companions are transients and don’t have the luxury of owning a home to keep pets at. Also, I feel like most of the companions, while they might not necessarily like pets, would be somewhat fond or at least respectful of the pets of the Lone Wanderer/Courier/Sole Survivor/Vault Dweller, like Dogmeat and Rex.

Bighorners

Lily Bowen: Everyone’s favorite super mutant grandma is already an experienced shepherdess in Jacobstown, and she’s more than willing to tear some night stalkers apart to keep her herd safe. If that’s not love beyond the norm for wasteland livestock, I don’t know what is. She’s probably given all of her bighorners names after the characters in the television reruns she used to watch on holotape in Vault 17, like Grace and Audrey and Lucille.

Brahmin

Raul Tejada: Actually spent a decent part of his pre-war life living on a ranch, so he knows that most brahmin don’t deserve being labeled “irritable” just because people don’t know how to read their body language. I think he’d follow wild brahmin herds around a bit on a whim and keep them from coming to any harm, especially the little ones. He gives them names like the cattle he grew up with, Corazon and Gordo and Blanca.

Rose of Sharon Cassidy: Doesn’t truck with the wild herds, but she knows that part of the success of a caravan lies with how well they treat their pack animals. All of her caravan’s brahmin have names - Penny, Magic and Sprinkles - and she’s careful to pair them up with drivers who are patient and work well with their various personalities.

Cats

Butch DeLoria: While Butch ultimately decided to leave Vault 101 behind, I don’t think he would ever truly lose his fear of radroaches after what they did to his mom. Having a little friend to warm his bunk in Rivet City and pounce on intruders would probably set his mind at ease, maybe a black tomcat with one ear named Pepper. He might even gift his mom a kitten when he next comes to visit.

Star Paladin Cross: I don’t think Cross much sees the use of an animal that doesn’t contribute to the community it lives in, like most of the Brotherhood of Steel. Cats, however, are excellent at pest control, even if the rats are bigger nowadays. I think she’d give the resident cats at the Citadel some pets in passing, and she’d smile when she has to extract playful kittens from inside her power armor frame. She’s especially fond of the cat colony’s matriarch, a scarred old tabby named Gemma.

Curie: Upon her transition into a synth body, Curie is overjoyed with most animals and their new willingness to approach her for attention. She especially loves cats because she can pick them up and better feel their fur and purring. Her favorite cat is an orange stray in Diamond City that she calls Claude.

Piper Wright: A companion for Nat when she’s out adventuring, an unbiased friend to bounce the latest opinion piece off of before going to print, and a lap-warmer for when you’re typing up the latest article about the exploits of the Minutemen - what’s not to like? The Wright family cat is a slippery, elegant calico named Sugar Bomb.

Preston Garvey: While the Minutemen forts and settlements definitely lean more toward keeping dogs around for security purposes, I think Preston likes his pets quieter and less likely to bowl you over in excitement. The one most likely to sleep with him in his bunk at Sanctuary is a grumpy gray gentleman named Anchovy.

Deathclaws

Veronica Santangelo: If anyone is crazy enough to swipe a deathclaw egg from a nest and try to hatch, rear and train a personal killing machine named Izzy, it’s Veronica. This will probably just alienate her from her Brotherhood chapter even more, but I’m sure she would take special care to make sure that her usual Mojave Wasteland haunts take a peek through a scope to see if the approaching deathclaw has a human on its back before taking a shot.

Dogs

Clover: I don’t think Clover gets out beyond Paradise Falls much, so the only animals she’s used to are the dogs the raiders bring around when passing through. She probably has favorites among the usual visitors and enjoys tossing them bits of meat when she’s allowed to get away from Eulogy and Crimson. If liberated, she’d probably get at least three of her own dogs to watch over her while she sleeps: One small dog to carry with her, a Pekingese or Pomeranian descendant named Coco, and two large dogs to follow through on intimidation and protection, a mastiff named Rock and a Doberman descendant named Roll.

Jericho: Jericho doesn’t deserve a dog but he’d probably have one around anyway to sniff out caps caches and hidden loot after he’s shot everyone in the vicinity. Some slinky beagle mix named Dewey, probably.

Fawkes: I don’t think Fawkes would be picky at all about what kind of dog he’d have. He strikes me as the type who would adopt any half-friendly mutt he ran across. I do think he would have a bit of a soft spot for friendlier mutant hounds, though, and maybe view their mutated circumstances as similar to his own. He’d also be absolutely amazing at playing fetch. Just imagine how far he could lob a stick or ball. All of his dogs would have literary names too, like Byron and Agatha and Edgar.

Craig Boone: Though he’s a bit of a prodigy at sniping, Boone knows his limitations when it comes to spotting hidden enemies on the horizon. I can see him having a hound dog at his side to find the more elusive ones and help him get rid of them faster. Maybe a bloodhound mutt named Bravo.

Cait: Doesn’t like people, but she adores dogs. Having had the life where she’s been abused, exploited and forced into slavery, she’s keenly aware that those like the ones who took advantage of her treat dogs much the same. She’s very protective of any dog she encounters and is very likely to punch you in the face if you so much as look at one wrong. She’d probably name any pup she adopted Lucky.

Hancock: Honestly, he’s just a fan of any animal that is happy to hang out with you whether you’re drunk, high, fighting raiders or patrolling downtown Boston. The Goodneighbor strays know him as the guy who always has mirelurk jerky in his pockets. His favorite is a rough-and-tumble, black-and-white spotted cattle dog descendant that he cheekily calls King George.

Robert MacCready: He’s not quick to trust dogs, but once he’s sure they’re not a threat, they’re one of the few critters around which he’ll relax completely. He’s still a little wary of them around Duncan, but any dog that’s a part of his family is more or less his son’s permanent babysitter.

Nick Valentine: Dogmeat is also basically his dog. The two have a history of working cases together, with Dogmeat just turning up whenever a trail goes cold and leading Nick to the evidence he needs to reopen his investigation. Nick doesn’t know how or why Dogmeat does it, but he’s not about to ruin a good thing.

Strong: I don’t think he would turn down a ferocious mutant hound as a friend. He’d probably feed it mole rats and call it something like Killer.

Foxes

Beckett: This former raider has a love-hate relationship with a fox that keeps going through his trash. He affectionately calls him Lil’ Bastard.

Sofia Daguerre: Having crashed back to an earth she doesn’t recognize, I think Sofia would be tickled that the foxes of Appalachia have basically stayed the same despite the bombs. I can see her leaving dinner scraps out on her porch for one that she sometimes spots in the foliage, and slowly coaxing the critter to come into the light. She names her Scarlett once she finally convinces her to eat out of her hand.

Mega sloths

Settler forager: I would not be at all surprised if this man ran into a mega sloth in the Mire and decided to try befriending it. The creature, probably surprised at this old guy’s nerve, decided to accept the handful of leaves he offered and grew slowly more fond of the guy’s persistence. It doesn’t know its name is Fergus but it does know that if a human is wearing overalls, it’s probably not a threat.

Mole rats

Deacon: Alright, hear me out. Deacon has a fondness for underdogs, and mole rats are about as underdog as they come. I think Deacon thinks these little guys are cute despite their wrinkles and buck teeth, and I think he sees the value in having a tunneling pet that likes to collect shiny things. One of his deep cover hideouts is in an old tunnel system in the northern Commonwealth, where he hangs out with a young mole rat named Henry.

Owls

Raider punk: This radio operator got wind of an abandoned nest of owlets in Appalachia early on in his career and, being the nearest to the report, decided to rescue the little guys. Now he has three owls that occasionally drop in at his camp to hoot and accept handouts: Nona, Decima and Morta. While he’s still fond of them, he’s usually disappointed that they aren’t the Mothman coming to visit.

Rad chickens

Yasmin Chowdhury: Ever the opportunistic cook, she picked up the practice of raising chickens from the settlers at Foundation and has four hens of her own: Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme. The “ladies,” as she refers to them, give her a constant stream of eggs for omelets.

Ravens

Settler wanderer: This gal has an affinity with birds, who are always on the move like her. She admires their ability to be untethered and let the wind take them far and wide. Nevertheless, she likes to scatter corn when they come close to her on the road, and formed a sort of friendship with a particularly handsome specimen that she calls Tornado.

Wolves

Old Longfellow: This guy is the epitome of the meme about dads not wanting pets and then instantly falling in love with whatever animal enters their life. He probably found an injured wolf pup in his travels around the island and took pity on it, nursing it back to health in his cabin. It’s still got a bit of a twisted paw, but follows him around and listens like any other dog and answers to the name Lamoine.

Yao guai

Porter Gage: I bet this guy adopted an orphaned bear cub and raised it by hand. Now it’s so big that even if Gage thinks he’s an easy target for other raiders due to his age, he’s much less likely to get singled out than he thinks because he has a yao guai following him around like a puppy. The bear’s name is Fuzzy Wuzzy. It has no hair.

No pets, thanks

Charon: Too likely to accidentally wind up in the line of fire.

Sergeant RL-3: Too easily corrupted by Communist influences.

Arcade Gannon: Too much time spent getting in your way.

Codsworth: Too likely to make messes.

Paladin Danse: Too many wasted resources.

X6-88: Too much of a liability.

Ada: Too easy to lose when on the move.

Solomon Hardy: Too unsanitary.

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minruko · 3 years

Note

Hey! I hope you're having a nice day! ☺️✨ May I request headcanons about being confessed to and having his first kiss for Magna from Black Clover? 🌱

magna swing supremacy😩

but i accidentally read the request wrong and i decided to keep both versions i hope you still enjoy🙇🏾‍♀️

════════════════════════════════════════════

you’re confessing:

you’ve liked him for a while but you probably never really had the chance to tell him

he would also just randomly throw his arm over your shoulders and teasing you constantly which would make you a little flustered

i don’t think he would realize his impact on you that much, he just assumed his teasing made you a little embarrassed and he took pride in that

you wanting to confess but you didn’t really know how cause it’s harder than it looks

with all the missions going on you were never really able to confess, vanessa noticed this and she decided to help you out a bit

there was a festival in town and she suggested you asked Magna to go with you as a date, you took her advice and asked him, he agreed with a smirk on his face

y’all spent the day walking around the festival going to different booths and stands

barely lets you pay for anything

on the way back to the base you two lingered in the back do you could talk

“what’s up with you? you’re all nervous, don’t tell me i have that kind of effect y/n” he leaned close to your face with a small smirk on his face

you looked him dead in the eyes and said “actually you do, and i like you a lot” the next thing you knew he kissed you softly and looked away with burning cheeks

“great cause i like you too you know.” you could see the tips of his ears burning a bright pink as he walked off with his hands in his pockets

him confessing:

he was crushing on you for a while, honestly i feel like it wouldn’t that hard to tell he has a thing for you

he would always be around you and he would always throw his arm around your shoulder or be touching you in some way

it’s pretty clear to the rest of the squad that he shows off more during battles

honestly if he didn’t ask you out himself the squad would set y’all up

but when he confesses it would be something out of the blue

maybe y’all are taking a ride on crazy cyclone and stop in a town, or maybe y’all are coming back from a mission

he would just stop and just call your name, you would turn around looking at him a little confused

he would take a deep breath and walk up to you grabbing your shoulders with his cheeks lightly dusted pink

“okay so this might sound crazy but i have a thing for you.”

he would look you in the eyes until he lets go of your shoulders and uncharacteristically walks off to the base in embarrassment

and you’re just standing there trying to process what happened before deciding to run after him

you catch up to him at the base and ask the others who were in the lounge and they all pointed towards the back

when you left they all made their way to the windows to watch the both of you while aggressively hushing one another

magna was throwing some fireballs at some targets trying to take his mind off things he was focused until you shouted at him

“i like you too you know” he slowly turned around to see you standing there with a smile on your face

he walked up to you and asked “can i kiss you?” you nodded and once y’all parted you heard the squad cheering for you with an assortment of “about time”s

#magna swing x reader #magna x reader #black clover x reader #black clover headcanons #black clover fluff #mini.writes

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doodleimprovement · 4 years

Text

CSAU :: Moonie Jericho and the Mysterious Case of the Moon-Jumper Mask

At long last, It is finished! Happy Halloween!

Below the line is a lighthearted fic taking place in the “Coffee Shop” AU (( @doodledrawsthings ))with Magic! Family fun! Low stakes! And a gratuitous cameo by my OC because of course Nell is here

Seriously though this fic is about as lighthearted as it gets. At the end of the fic are a few sketches I drew but didn’t end up coloring.

((There’s going to be an alternate ending posted separately at a later date, but its not relevant to the fic))

Enjoy!

Fall in Subcon Forest came in gently as always, and by the time Halloween rolled around, everyone was firmly in their sweaters and beanies and thick leggings and hiking boots that were only occasionally used for hiking. The leaves of the trees and the shining sun framed the town in such lovely muted colors that it looked like a picture right out of a magazine.

Not that anyone in the Horizon was looking out the window to see it - the curtains were closed in an attempt to not blind the employees and clientele.

It was that time between the end of school but before trick or treating, which meant that all of the teachers and parents were coming into the Horizon with their kids to get the new specialty drinks - well decorated and tasty, and more importantly, not hilariously overpriced. The kids in particular seemed to love the “Ghoulishly White Hot Chocolate”, and the teens flocked to the “Jack-O-Spices Frozen Pumpkin Latte”

Luka was almost certain that the pumpkin spice smell would burn itself so deep into his nose he’d never be able to un-smell it. A small price to pay for the rise in business, he supposed.

“Luka, Two Snatcher-ccinos!” Clover called from the cash register.

“I still hate that!” He responded with a light tone

“Too bad, make ‘em!” She teased back with a light laugh.

“Don’t get all testy, you two! We’re only open for another hour!” MJ called, grinning before turning back to the coffee machine, where they were effortlessly making yet another latte.

“Too long!” Clover argued, grabbing a muffin for a customer from the bakery display

“You’re telling me, and I still have to take Bow and Hattie trick or treating” Luka huffed, finishing up one of the “Snatcher-ccinos” and moving onto the next one.

“WE are!” MJ corrected. Luka just playfully rolled his eyes.

The conversation ended up dying rather quickly as the business went through its last rush, and, at long last, 4 o’clock came, and the store shut down. The three employees did a rather quickly clean up this night around - they were all eager to be anywhere but work that spooky night.

Once in the back of the store, Luka seemed to almost melt in relief, leaning further and further into the wall.

“Ugh, my limbs feel like Jelly” he commented as his voice gained its echo

“For all we know, they are,” Clover teased. “We’re meeting at MJs in an hour, right?” She stretched.

“Yeah.” Luka nodded “Have they already run off?”

“Yup. They’re excited” She chuckled “You gonna get home alright?”

“Yeah, thanks. See you later”

“Later!”

0o0o0o0o0

That stupid, cursed thing of a mask had not moved in weeks since he’d found it, and its stupid grin had started haunting the corner of his vision when ever he was in his studio.

It seems like it's decided that sitting on the desk in his art studio was its happy place. At least it was out of the way, and in a place he didn’t frequent often.

Though its eyes definitely still moved, which gave MJ hives like you would not believe. Why he kept it in his studio he wasn’t sure.

Tim had told him that the thing was mostly harmless, that it just seemed a bit… off, which wasn’t the worst thing in the world. Timmy even said that he got “good vibes” off of it, which was a strange phrase to use on something that felt at the very least mildly cursed.

Finishing with the caplet for his costume, gently clasping it, he looked in the mirror and gave himself a smile.

It was obscure, sure, but he’d put a lot of work into it! The legend of the “Lonely Man” was well known in these parts, maybe someone would get it. Someone had to.

Whether or not anyone got it, he was still happy with the tattered thing. That faux old age took forever to get right.

As he straightened out his clothes, his eyes caught the mask once more.

His hand picked it up off his desk, and his thumb rubbed on the odd surface. He couldn’t really tell what it was made of, but it was… oddly smooth, he thought. His brow furrowed as he looked at its eyes, a single pupil in its left eye, and a cascade of diamonds in the other. It was certainly an interesting and eye-catching design. He also liked the blue and reds, and that weirdly off-putting grin.

Such an odd thing.

He held it up with one hand over his face - not putting it on, but getting a look in the mirror at how it would look with the outfit.

He found it utterly bizarre that he could see clearly through the eyes despite what seemed like thick paint over it.

The mask itself wasn’t actually that scary when taken all at once. Oddly enough, it seemed to match with his outfit - at least, color wise. It didn’t even seem evil or anything. It seemed… kind.

That was an odd word to use. MJ tended to flip flop on how he feels about the damned thing

Before he could think any more about it, his doorbell rang, and the mask was left on his desk, forgotten the moment company arrived.

“Who is it?” He asked as he approached the door

“The Dread Pirate Roberts!” A little voice announced as the oak opened up.

To his absolute delight, Harriet was dressed indeed the Dread Pirate Roberts, missing nothing but the mask (The town doesn’t allow masks on minors, for some reason. A weird little policy). Next to her stood an excited Bow, grinning from ear to ear. He knew exactly who she was, but still asked-

“And who are you?”

“My name is Inigo Montoya” She said with all the faux-seriousness she could muster, holding up a foam sword “You killed my father, prepare to die!”

“Oh, goodness, the finest swordsperson in the world and The Dread Pirate Roberts have come to my home, I don’t stand a chance!” He moved out of his way as the kids ran into the apartment, and their father walked up behind him.

When his eyes went to Luka, he let out a snort. The man was dressed in a slightly silly looking prince outfit dyed almost completely purple, and his form was mostly purple as well - an energy-saving tactic if ever there was one.

“And you are?”

“He’s the ghost of prince Humperdink” Bow grinned. “This was the best costume we could find for it”

“I honestly think he shoulda died at the end of the movie so I'm cool with it.” Harriet commented as MJ moved to the side and let the group in “Is Clover here yet?”

“Not yet, I’m sure she’ll be here any minute and we can get right along with trick or treating!” MJ announced

“Yay!” the girls responded in unison, taking their place on MJs couch and turning on his old television for a brief moment of entertainment

Mj looked at Luka and grinned “Well, you’re lookin’ spooky, Luka”

“You kind of do too… what do you look like?”

MJ snorted “I’m the ‘Lonely Man of Subcon forest’. Heard of it?”

“Nope, don’t think I’ve been here long enough” Luka shrugged “Does look nice though. Very zombie-ish.”

The two chatted for a bit before there was another ring barely 10 minutes later.

“That must be Clo” MJ pushed himself off of the wall. “Can you get that? I want to grab my wallet so we can get the kids some ice cream before they go running around”

Luka nodded, giving him a grateful smile before turning to the door to greet the final member of the trio

MJ popped back into his studio, grabbing his wallet… and looking again at the mask.

He pocketed his wallet, and picked the mask up again. His thumbs rubbing against the strange texture of the mask’s sides.

He couldn’t help but admit that he was tempted. Maybe, he could just see what it’d look like, just for a moment. Who knows? Maybe this has all been anxiety for nothing and the mask is just… weird.

He looked back into the mirror, and placed the mask on his face.

There was a moment where he stared amusedly at his reflection - it added a certain air to his outfit. Maybe wearing it out wouldn't be so b-

And then his body seized

He couldn’t move, he couldn’t breathe. He trembled and a pain started from his head and traveled down his spine. It was like the worst shiver from the cold he’d ever experienced. Like ice was pressed directly against his skin. It dispersed like a fog, freezing freezing, and, suddenly-

It stopped.

Panting heavily, MJ pulled themselves back up to a standing position - when had they bent over like that? - and lifted their head, making eye contact with themselves in the mirror.

“GAH?!”

They were - blue! And - and the mask was very much not a mask!!!

When they blinked, it blinked. When they moved, it moved. When they grimaced, the mouth moved along to create the expression. their eyes scanned over the crescent shape, past their neck and then landed on their-

“H-hands!” They stared - they were missing a finger and - had claws?? They clenched their fists in disbelief, eyes catching on a glinting just under their sleeve.

.. Where had the chains come from?

“MJ? MJ are you okay?”

Clover

“D-don’t come in, its fine!!” They panicked, “I’m uh, just, finishing up and stuff with my costume!”

“It looked finished to me” Luka commented “Did something rip?”

“Y-yes?? yes! Something totally ripped“

“They’re lying!” Hattie pointed out

“Sounds like their lying voice” Bow added.

Curse these adorable, smart little girls!

“I-I’m fine!” They yelled out “Totally fine, just fine”

“... MJ I’m opening the door, be decent”

“No, Clover, I - “

But the door opened anyway

And Clover - dressed up as “Generic princess” - looked in, and … stared.

“.... MJ?”

“.... H-hi, Clover.”

“Clover, what are-” Luka cut himself off “Uh….”

“It’s me! Its MJ, I uh - “ They tried to come up with a succinct explanation for the situation, despite not having any real idea.

“The mask” Luka quickly concluded, recognizing the face after MJs unfortunately previous run-ins.

“I … yes” MJ’s shoulders slumped a bit.

“Hey, at least you still have feet” Luka commented, causing MJ to look down and see that he did in fact still have his shoes on. Thank heaven for small mercies.

“What happened, what is it?!” Harriet pushed her way through, her eyes wide as saucers once they landed on the recently transformed adult “... Whoa”

“I … I put on the mask. I was curious and - and it..” They looked back down at the pale, blue hands, nervously moving the fingers and claws. “I felt like I was freezing, my whole body and then…” They trailed off.

“Whoa..” Harriet approached him slowly “It's like, Majora’s Mask!”

Lukas put his hand on her shoulder to stop her from jumping - now really was not the time “... I suppose that's one way to describe it.” He gave a deliberate, thoughtful face towards his transformed friend.

Bow was very firmly behind the adults, staring rather intently and slightly bewildered. Sure, she had been getting used to Mr. Princeton as a parent but.. This was somehow very different.

“... We need to talk to Tim.” Clover concluded

“Tim’s out of town” Luka reminded the group with a grimace “He and Timmy had some kind of meeting thing with other magical people. We don’t…” Luka huffed, his hair fluffing up a bit “We don’t know anyone else whose adept at magic like they are”

Harriet furrowed her brow a bit, looking at the discomfort that MJ was experiencing, rubbing their hands together. Could they be stuck like that? She wanted to think that maybe this really was like the Zelda game, but who could tell? It's not like they knew anyone….

“Yes we do!” She snapped her fingers“I kinda hate that Mu was right, but there is a witch in town!”

“What?” Lukas’ brow furrowed “Who?”

0o0o0o0o0

Getting to the edge of town was… novel, to put it simply. The group was rather lucky that Luka was used to doing this sort of thing. And he was about 4 times larger than the group, so that helped in flying them around.

With the sun kissing the earth, red rays crawling into the darker sky, they didn’t have too much time, but followed Harriet and Bow as they got past the town center, and led them down to-

“Wait, why are we at Nell’s place?” Clover stared ahead at the Mint-green home, succulents hanging from pots and a radio sitting on the edge of the porch.

“Because Nurse Nell is a witch!” Harriet announced walking up the two steps of the porch.

“What- Harriet!” Luka startled.

“Its true!” Bow defended as Hattie knocked on the door.

“Kids, we’ve known Nell for a long time, she’s not-”

“She is!” Hattie argued “We saw it!”

“She made us promise to keep it a secret!” Bow added.

Said nurse opened the door as MJ tried to speak up

“I wasn’t expecting trick-or treaters,” She greeted before looking out the door, “But I do-” She paused as her eyes landed on the strange group at her front porch.

There was a rather awkward, extended silence as her eyes scanned MJ through her thick lenses with a gaze that conveyed a strange kind of surprise.

“.... Inside, now” She pulled the door open further, leaving no room for argument.

The adults shared a glance, but did as she said, entering her small living room. She greeted them with a nod as they entered, and shut the door behind them, motioning for MJ to approach her.

She didn’t say a word as they did so, and very slowly lifted her hands to their face, holding it steady as she scrutinized. “What happened? Less than 3 sentences” She half asked/half demanded. Her tone wasn’t harsh, but it was serious.

“Uh, I put on a cursed mask and it uh… did this” They tried to sum up.

“Where did you get the mask?”

“I found it in the forest. I thought it was abandoned from the spirit festival”

“And why did you pick up an abandoned mask in the forest?”

They awkwardly didn’t respond. She sighed

“I get it, hun” She responded, resigned. “Stay still”

“I am”

“Stiller”

Clover and Luka watched her with some skepticism, seeing the woman take a deep breath, and as she exhaled, her hands suddenly glowed dimly, tapping at the side of MJs head.

“Hah! See! Told you!” Hattie pointed, jumping slightly

“Shhhhhhhh!” Bow shook her “She’s doin’ magic stuff!”

“Hm…” She masterfully ignored the yelling children “Well, good news is that the magic isn’t very strong, Just… aggressive.” Nell announced. “And it's not malevolent” She let go of their face.

“... I… How can you tell?” MJ asked, their own hand tapping their blue cheek.

“.. Let's say it's a feeling” She summed up. “You can sit down. I need to grab something from my library”

And she left the room

“.... I don’t think I’ve ever seen Nell that serious” Clover spoke out “Also the uh, glowing hands? Didn’t know she could do that”

“How did you not know she had magic?” Luka asked with a rather incredulous tone

“It never came up!” Clover retorted

“How did it never come up?”

“Its cool!” Harriet jumped into the conversation

“It think its cool too” Bow agreed “I always wondered how my paper cuts at school always healed so fast…”

MJ had sat themselves down, hand staying on their head, feeling the strange curve of their forehead with a certain fascination. Nell’s words - said with so much affirmation- did make them feel better about the situation.

The nurse returned, her expression still relatively serious, but calmer as she carried an old, thick book with a rather overly ornate cover in a faded blue.

“You’re lucky I collect these old things” She commented for a moment, sitting down next to MJ. She flipped through the pages, finding a two-page spread with a plain mask listed on it, and text printed so small that MJ just could not read it. “Here we are.”

Harriet climbed up next to her “What's it say? That’s a lot of words!”

Nell chuckled a bit at her eagerness “It is, but... “ she hand rested on the book for a moment, and then she lifted it, and the text glowed, lifting and circling around her hand like a ring.

“Whoa…. It's like the unknown from the Pokémon movie!” Bow jumped, causing Nell to laugh more.

“A little, I suppose” Nell responded, and she looked over at the other two adults, mostly at Clover, whose bewildered stare caused her to laugh again “You okay there?”

“... How did I not know this about you?”

“Never came up, dear. Don’t think too hard about it. You too, “Snatcher”” The woman gave a smirk. Luka cleared his throat. “Now…”

A simple flick of her hand, and the letters were floating around MJ’s head, and some of them glowed just a little bit brighter “Hm….. Alrightie, that's a good sign” She snapped, and the letters, very suddenly disappeared as if popping a bubble. “Well, Give until dawn, and then you should be able to take off the mask. If you can’t, come to me. I don’t work tomorrow”

“Oh… Well, that uh, wasn’t so bad. I’ll be okay?”

“Of course” Nell nodded, shutting the book “I’d’ve called the Kagai’s the moment I let go of your face if I thought otherwise”

“The who?” Hat questioned.

“Another time, Hattie, another time” Nell placated. “Now….” she exhaled, putting the book on her coffee table and clasping her hands together “I just realized I haven’t even said hello to any of you”

Something about that sentence finally broke the tension, getting a laugh out of Clover and Luka, and a snicker out of MJ.

The next ten minutes consisted of Nell reassuring the group that MJ would be fine, and reiterating that they needed to come to her if the mask did not come off by sunrise.

“There’s a lot of magic in this that I can sense. So uh, just be careful.” She warned. “I don’t know a lot about that, so you’ll have to ask Tim”

MJ nodded “Uh, thank you, Nell”

She gave them a kind smile “Don’t mention it. Next time you need me though, have Clover send me a message or just call me, alright?” She looked passed them to Harriet, who gave her a sheepish smile.

“Got it” The transformed barista nodded.

“Oh and, don’t be too worried about people seeing you. Just say it's a costume” She recommended as they walked out with their family waiting just beyond the porch. “Happy Halloween!” She called before abruptly shutting the door

“So……” Bow started

“Can we go trick or treating now??” Hattie finished.

Luka looked up to MJ, who seemed much calmer than before, despite continuing to lift their hand to their weirdly shaped head.

“.. Yeah, yeah i think we can” they gave Luka a grin “And thanks for getting us the help, Hattie” MJ reached down and picked her up “Who knew the Dread Pirate Roberts could be such a help!”

The girl giggled before being put back down “Then let’s go!!”

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

MJ was initially a bit tittered when they entered the town, but the moment anyone noticed them, the compliments rolled in.

“Wow! You look like a spooky zombie!”

“What game is that cosplay from?”

“How did you get the prosthetic to look like that, damn!”

“Wow, that is a really cool idea for the Lonely Man!”

MJ was beaming at the semi-undeserved praised as they took the kids from neighborhood to neighborhood, filling their pillow cases close to brimming with so much candy that Luka kept making a face and seemed to be mentally preparing to hide all of it, whispering to Clover and MJ about taking some of the candy so that it wasn’t all in his apartment.

“Seriously, all that candy?? They’re going to get cavities and I cannot pay for dental work like that.” The father aggressed. MJ just laughed a bit, looking ahead at the two girls who were trying to run ahead to the next house.

And then Bow’s foot caught a crack.

“Ah, Bow!” MJ startled, hand reaching out - but there was no way they’d reach her before she fell-

And then, she just stopped falling, stuck in midair as if floating.. But she wasn’t.

Upon closer examination, she was held up by a variety of red strings, connected to MJ’s clawed fingers

“... Uh”

“Whoaaaa” Hattie gaped “Magic! Cool!”

Bow pulled himself up to a standing position, and MJ put their hand down, the strings disappeared

“.. Thanks” Bow cleared her throat “That was really cool”

“It kind of was... “ They commented, looking down at their hands “I’m gonna be having a heck of a long talk with Tim when he gets back from wherever he is”

“Yeah, definitely” Luka nodded in agreement.

Lucky for the group the rest of the night went without incident, with MJ joining Luka at home and the two of them staying up until the sun started showing through the windows.

“Ready?” Luka asked him, the being no longer human shaped, as he’d finally reached his limit

“Yeah.. I think so” MJ took in a breath “She said it can just… come off like how I put it on…”

“Alright….” Luka’s voice trailed off as MJ reached their hands up to their face, thumbs by their cheeks, but then - wait! The edge, the mask! They felt it.

Barely bothering to breath, they mentally counted… 1… 2… 3!

they pulled it off and gasped as that icy feeling went through them even faster than last time, trembling and nearly falling over as Luka kept them up with their tail.

“Hey, hey! You okay MJ?”

MJ looked up, nodding “Yeah, uh, how do I..?”

“You’re back to a nerd, if that's what you’re asking” Luka lightly teased

Their hands went back up to their face, and gasped when they felt their regular skin, and their glasses (Where had they gone? Didn’t matter)

“Oh, thank god” The tired barista flopped onto their partner, “That was exhausting. Thank goodness the Horizon is closed today…”

“Hah, ready to sleep?”

“Oh, definitely” MJ commented, looking down at the mask still in their hand, its smile seeming not nearly as spooky than before.. “Hm..”

“What?”

“.. Why’d it choose me, I wonder” They muttered, sitting up and placing the mask by the window sill “But… we’ll see about finding out more, hm?”

“.. Yeah, we will” Luka confirmed.

MJ gave him a smile, hugging his partner with a slight nuzzle “Come on, we need to sleep. Hattie and Bow-”

“Oh, don’t remind me. We’re in for a hell of an afternoon” Luka groaned, but he was still smiling.

Saying that things were “back to normal” was never correct with this group, but things were still pretty okay. Maybe better, even.

Moonie figured they’d just have to wait and see.

BONUS::

Costumes! I wasn’t able to finish these in time, but I hope they suffice!

#doodledrawsthings #coffee shop au #ahit coffee shop au #ahit #a hat in time #ahit moonjumper #moonjumper #ahit snatcher #snatcher #ahit hat kid #hat kid #ahit bow kid #bow kid #ahit florist #florist #ahit oc #ahit nell #csau nell #nell

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itmighthavebeenintentional · 3 years

Text

We've Got Tonight - Ch 6

Summary: “It’s not your job to do this, Andy. You make people happy. I was in the diner all of ten minutes, and you knew exactly how to get me to smile. You do normal, real things like garden and sing karaoke. Saving the world is my job, Sam’s job. Sometimes it’s even Cas’s job, but it’s not yours.”

Inspired by Bob Seger’s “We’ve Got Tonight”

Warnings: Major Character Death, More Major Character Deaths (sort of?), higher than show level violence, blood, light smutting, language, demons, apocalypse, inferred suicide, cult activity.

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT PROCEED

Author’s Note: Image and major edits by the incomparable @there-must-be-a-lock . Heavy editing and cheering by @thoughtslikeaminefield . Thank you both so much.

The next chapter is the last part. I'm truly sorry.

In case you missed it: Chapter 5 ItMightHaveBeenintentional’s Masterlist

We’ve Got Tonight

Chapter 6

“Cas, you’ve got to listen to me.”

“I’m sorry, miss, I think you have me confused with someone else. My name is Agent Michael Jagger.” Castiel’s bewilderment is so endearing and familiar that Andy nearly loses her composure.

She grabs his hand, pulling him uncomfortably close, and she can see suspicion dawning amidst the confusion. She tows him to the back area of the restaurant, technically for staff only, but she doesn’t figure petty rules like that matter just now.

“Listen, Miss, you’ve shown interest in my partner and scheduled time to socialize with him later. While I do understand that you are traditionally attractive, I really-“

“I need you to listen, and then I need you to look. Do you understand?”

“Not even a little.”

“That’s okay, hun, neither do I.”

And then she tells him everything. He can only stare at her silently afterwards, his mouth working as if he’s lost the ability to speak.

“Read me, Castiel. You can see if I’m telling the truth. Hell, go deeper and see what I’m telling you. Please, it won’t hurt anything if I’m lying, and if I’m telling the truth, you and I can save them. Please, please, I’m literally begging you. Just look.”

Castiel gingerly slides his fingers into her hair until the heels of his hands are resting on her cheekbones and his thumbs rest on her temples. His eyes slide shut, his face going just a little slack, and then he’s there with her in the memories, memories that faded with the sunrise but seared themselves permanently on her brain the second she saw the three of them again. She knows the moment he sees his own death because his body convulses ever so slightly, but he holds on until the scene plays out and she takes her last breath in the dream.

His eyes snap open and unerringly find hers.

“How is this possible? Who are you?”

If she didn’t have those weeks of memories, she might be afraid of him right now.

“Cas, you know who I am. You saw me. I have no more idea why this is all happening than you, but we’ve got this second chance, and we have to take it.”

He eyes her cautiously, but his mistrust is beginning to fade. “I’ve been fooled before. You could be hiding something, I suppose, but...I don’t think you are.”

Relief floods over her, though a bitter tinge underlies the sweetness.

“You believe me?”

He nods reluctantly, his dry lips thinning unhappily. “I saw your plan. Are you certain this is what you want to do? Do you think it will work?”

“Well, Cas, you can see I don’t have the best track record with plans. Can you think of anything better that leaves the world intact and you, Sam, and Dean all standing?”

Even though she knows what his answer will be, her stomach still drops a little when he shakes his head.

“Yeah, me neither. It was worth a shot.”

He searches her face without suspicion this time, only a deep, genuine sorrow. “I wish I could have had those weeks with you, Andrea. In the vision, you were a good person to spend time with.”

“Call me Andy, Cas. I swear, I never could get you to call me Andy.”

“But your name tag-”

She cuts him off with a kiss to the cheek. She holds back everything else she wants to say to her friend-that-never-was. It wouldn’t make any sense to him now, on this side of their non-existent time together, and it wouldn't make either of them feel any better. She hands him a piece of torn paper from her order pad, this one larger than the one she gave Dean.

“Check the memories you read off me to be sure, but I remember the ritual starts at midnight tomorrow night. They took me from the Brass Monkey not long before then. You can investigate if you need to, but I would bet that they’ll be at the first address I gave you a few hours before then, say eight or nine o’clock, getting everything set up before they come to snatch me. You know what you and the guys will need to take them out; without my blood and the ritual, they’re still dangerous, but they’re only human. Tell Sam and Dean whatever you need to get them there, but...I don’t think you should tell them what you saw. I think everything would get too muddled, and we’d end up right back at the same crossroads with Crowley.”

“Are you sure it’s wise to still meet up with Dean tonight? What if-”

“Everything has happened the same way so far, Cas, down to Sam nagging Dean about vegetables. And I’ve got to give myself something,” she says, her laugh a little more desperate and hysterical than she intended. “I can’t just...Look, just give me this one night, okay? I think I deserve that. I think Dean deserves that.”

He glances from her to the scrap of paper in his hand. She notices that his lips move a little when he’s reading, and she thinks that little quirk suits him just fine.

“Why is there a second address?”

Thanking whatever higher power gave her this second chance and the ability to keep the fallen angel out of even a few of her thoughts, she turns away from Castiel, moving towards the sink to start on some dishes that someone has let pile up. She’s under enough strain right now that she can’t disguise her expression anymore, and she honestly doesn’t think she can handle the sadness in his eyes for one more second.

“I’m going to keep myself out of the way this time; I have no intention of starting another apocalypse. I’ll stay in tomorrow night and triple lock every entrance to my apartment until you tell Dean to call me and give me the all clear. That’s where you’ll find me when the job’s done. And, Cas?”

He pauses in the doorway, looking back at her with a tortured expression she never sees.

“Remember, we can’t leave any loose ends this time. That’s how you get more apocalypses.” ...

She’s ready and waiting for Dean when he walks in the bar. She can tell he’s taken a little effort with his appearance: his hair is freshly styled, he’s wearing a button-up that isn’t a flannel, and - wonder of wonders- he actually shaved. Having spent an extra minute or thirty on her own primping, she is pleased when his eyes go a little wide as they rake over her seated form.

“I already know I look good, but damned if you didn’t just make me feel edible,” she quips.

She is rewarded with the warmth of his smile as he takes the stool next to her. She’s pleased (but not surprised) when he brushes a kiss on her cheek in greeting. She sips her drink as he orders one of his own, and then they turn on their stools to survey the crowd. He leans a little closer to say something, and she hears him inhale when he gets near.

“You smell amazing. What is that?”

She grins behind her glass. Dean Winchester is not one to comment on a woman’s scent, at least, not in such an innocent, non-sexual way. And yet, both times around, he does just that.

“Lavender and clover blossoms from some boxes on my balcony. I clip some fresh bits sometimes and rub them on instead of perfume. Smells cleaner, less suffocating.”

“I like it.”

They talk about little nothings and nonsense for the next few minutes, favorite bands and movies and foods and anything she can think of just to listen to him talk, to experience him a little more. She doesn’t remember being able to make him laugh this much before, and she thinks maybe she’s doing just a little better time around.

“So, what’re you gonna wow me with?” he asks, gesturing towards the stage with his half-full glass.

“I was thinking ‘Making Love out of Nothing at All,’ but you could probably talk me into ‘Lonely Is the Night’ or even ‘All out of Love’ if you get me tipsy enough.”

He laughs, a bright, weightless sound that cracks her heart in half. She can’t help leaning in and kissing him then, and he leans right back, blissfully unaware of the burden she’s struggling more and more to hide. She pulls away, and he opens his mouth to say something, but she pecks him on the lips again just long enough to stop him speaking.

“You don’t. But you could.”

There’s that smile.

They sit in companionable silence for several songs, sipping their drinks and listening to the other singers. She’s just about to go put her first song request in when he looks over at her, freezing her utterly with one side-long glance.

“How long?”

She can’t have heard him right.

“I’m...I’m sorry?”

“How long have we got? Do you turn into a pumpkin at midnight, or can I keep you out later?”

Oh. Oh, God, Dean, why?

“You know what? I think I might actually go for some Bob Seger. Come help me pick one out.” ...

Chapter 7 (end)

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jaskiersbow · 3 years

Text

Make You Happy

(again, housekeeping and moving things to the new blog. Ignore me!)

Explicit, Warnings: knotting, virgin Jaskier, sex slave Jaskier, a/b/o. Geraskier.

Anonymous asked: Virgin Sex Slave Jaskier to the Wolves. Maybe his first introduction to fucking a Witcher and their MASSIVE cocks after his purchase? Dubcon to oh fuck yes. So, learning about sex, breeding and lots of cum? A/B/O or knots (don't have to be combined) for flavour if you'd like. (age is up to you, but since you didn't mention it, 18+ is perfect.)

Anon, I have to apologize a little here. I went off script. I can definitely be talked into writing a follow up where Geralt shares his slave with the other wolves, but I felt like he needed to take what was his first. Have 2k of sassy Jaskier who has absolutely no idea what he’s getting himself into. I wrote this picturing him as 18, but didn’t state it so let your mind go wild.

---

The omega is quiet as they walk back to Geralt’s campsite. How the fuck does he get himself into these situations? Who wins a sex slave in a game of Gwent? He honestly hadn’t expected to win that game, but that obviously doesn’t matter now.

“Do you sleep outside all the time?” the omega asks quietly, breaking Geralt out of his thoughts.

“Not all the time, but towns aren’t often kind to me,” Geralt informs him, adding a rushed out “sorry” to the end of it.

“I like the stars” he says with a shrug, “Besides, whatever you want I want. That’s kind of how this works.”

“Sorry if I’ve never owned a sex slave before,” Geralt scoffs out, cringing when the boy looks a bit heartbroken at that. He hadn’t asked for this, to be tied to a witcher of all things. Geralt vows to be a bit nicer if he can help it.

“I just want to make you happy,” the omega mumbles, pouting a bit. Geralt realizes he never actually got his name, which is probably bad form, but to be fair he was shocked at having won a slave in a card game.

“I’m sure you will. This is just...a lot to take in. What should I call you?”

“My name is Jaskier, but the ones who trained me called me Pet if that pleases you more?” Jaskier replied. Geralt thought it over for a moment, decided this was odd enough without adding that element to it.

“So Jaskier, unless you’re an idiot, you’ve noticed I’m a witcher. Did they train you for that?” he asks, already knowing the answer.

“I was trained to be displayed at court, so no,” Jaskier says, frowning. “Do I displease you?”

“Not at all,” Geralt rushes out. “You...you look nice. I just want to know what you’re ready for. Alpha witchers can be a bit much. What did your last owner do with you?”

“My last owner lost me in a card game on my first night with him, so I’m still fresh from training.”

“Fresh as in...virginal?” Geralt asks, his voice cracking over the word. This is too much. No matter how sweet and eager the boy seems, there’s no way he’s ready to take a witcher cock. He’ll have to find a place for him, maybe set him free somewhere nearby.

“Only my ass. I’ve had lots of practice with my hands and my mouth,” Jaskier says with a saucy wink. “Sometimes they even let me get myself off afterwards if I was good enough with my mouth.” Geralt can picture it, the boy taking his tiny omega cock in his own hand and fucking his fist to orgasm. A shiver runs through him, and he has to push another wave a lust away and focus on setting things straight.

“No use in being modest, but witchers - especially alphas - are more well endowed than most. We might not be a good match,” he says tactfully.

“You don’t want me,” Jaskier sobs out, shooting Geralt a doe-eyed look.

“Look. I travel alone normally. I’m not good with people. I have wanted nothing more than to fuck that tight little ass since I saw you in that tavern, but I don’t think it’s possible. I’m not about to hurt you, and you can’t want this,” he waves a hand around at the campsite around them. No reasonable omega would want to live in the fucking woods and trail a witcher around. It’s ridiculous.

“Well that’s great, because I’ve thought of little else than you taking me since I saw you. Now let me show you something and maybe it will change your mind. Because I’m not about to lose two owners in one day,” Jaskier huffs out before stomping over to his bag. He roots around for a moment before pulling out a rectangular box. He kneels down in front of Geralt and presents it to him, grinning up at him.

“What this?” Geralt asks as he opens the lid. His eyes go wide as he takes in the contents; a set of wooden plugs of various sizes. The largest is as thick around as he is. “You’ve taken these?” he asks as his blood rushes south.

“All but the largest. I’ve not been properly fucked, but they wanted to make sure I was able to be. They’re also for if my owner wants to...keep me open for them. I’m made to serve, made to be ready. Now can we please get to the part where you stick your cock in me? I’ve been wet since we left town,” he whines and chews at his lower lip, drawing Geralt’s attention to it. And there’s no reason to say no, no reason to deny himself this pleasure, so he just nods and sets the box aside before moving to his bedroom.

“Strip. Let me see you,” Geralt orders, his voice lower than normal. Jaskier smirks at him and makes a show of undoing his doublet and sliding out of his trousers. He hadn’t lied, Geralt can see the slick on his thighs and it sends a wave of need through him. Geralt tugs his own clothing off and sinks to his knees. “Come here, darling,” he whispers.

Jaskier slinks over to him and drops to his knees, hands reaching out as if he’s afraid to touch. Geralt makes the decision for him, leaning forward and running his own hands down his arms, fingertips reveling in the impossibly soft skin. He smells so good like this, sweet and cloying like honey and clovers. Geralt bends down and nips at his skin, right below the black collar wrapped around his neck. There’s a hoop there, meant to carry his owner’s mark, and Geralt has to bite back a moan when he pictures a silver wolf pendant hanging there.

“Do I please you?” Jaskier asks breathily. Geralt meets his gaze and realizes the boy is unsure of himself. He has no idea how much Geralt is fighting the urge to just sink into him, fuck him and take what’s his. He shivers and runs his hands over Jaskier’s hips before cupping his little omega prick in his hand. Jaskier cries out and goes limp against him, whining, “no one’s ever…” against his chest.

“Fuck. No one’s ever touched you like this?” Geralt asks in shock. Jaskier nods, trembling as Geralt starts to pump his hand, slowly working over his little cock. He’s red and leaking, just a mess of pre-come, and Geralt just wants to worship him. For all his training, the omega is falling apart, just shuddering against Geralt as he fucks into his fist. He’s gorgeous like this, and Geralt can’t fault him his pleasure, just speeds up his hand and watches in awe as Jaskier comes.

“Geralt!” he shouts, nearly sobbing as he spills over Geralt’s hand. He’s shaking, clearly overwhelmed with it all, and Geralt just works him through it, milking every last bit of come that he can. Geralt ducks down and noses at his scent gland, drowning in his strong smell. He’s never smelt an omega this sweet before. It’s like he was made for him.

“Can I fuck you?” Geralt asks, and Jaskier just laughs at him.

“I’m yours to do what you please with, but if you’re asking if I’d like it, yes. I very much would,” Jaskier murmurs against the side of his neck. Geralt can’t wait any longer, just grabs Jaskier by the hips and sets him on his hands and knees. His thighs are glistening with slick and Geralt has to squeeze the base of his cock to keep his mind clear.

But then Jaskier leans forward so he’s resting on his shoulders and reaches back, grabbing his cheeks and parting them. He’s fucking <i>presenting</i> like a bitch in heat and it’s too much. His hole is pink and dripping slick, and Geralt growls and is lining up and sinking into him before he can think about it. Jaskier whimpers and it goes straight to his dick, throbbing as he slides deeper.

“Fuck, you’re so gods damned tight,” Geralt growls as he gives the omega a moment to get used to the feeling.

“I’m so full,” Jaskier shudders, struggling to get back up on his hands. He sighs and rocks back, sucking Geralt even deeper into his wet heat. “Didn’t know it would be like this,” he pants out.

“Didn’t know you’d be perfect. Like you’re made to take my cock,” Geralt says quickly. He pulls back and slams his hip home, loving the way the smaller man whimpers and clenches around him. He’s not going to last long, hasn’t fucked an omega this tight in years. Every thrust of his hips is sweet agony.

He knows in the back of his mind that he should be going easy on him because it’s his first time, but he just can’t help it. Jaskier is gushing slick now, the sounds of their joining echoing around them. His hips move on their own, finding a ruthless rhythm as he plows into Jaskier. The omega - his omega - is taking it so well, a chorus of breathy gasps and moans flowing from his mouth as Geralt fucks him.

“Please, oh please,” Jaskier whines. “Am I good? Can I come when you do? Am I good for you?” he’s babbling mindlessly, begging for a release that Geralt won’t deny him. He’s too sweet, too perfect, his hole too hot and tight around him. For a split second Geralt wishes he could breed him, see his belly round and full with pups, and the thought makes him move faster.

His knot is growing, catching on Jaskier’s abused rim with every slam of his hips. He leans down, bracketing Jaskier’s body with his own, rutting into him like a man possessed. There’s a fire burning in his gut and he starts to lose his rhythm, hips stuttering as he chases his release. He thrusts once, twice more before his knot takes hold and he falls over the edge, emptying his seed inside Jaskier’s sweet little body.

“Come for me,” he hisses.

Jaskier sobs out his name and the scent of his release fills the air. He gets even tighter, body gripping Geralt’s knot so fucking tight that his eyes roll back and he can’t do anything but grind into him, fucking him with his knot. It’s rough and sloppy and everything Geralt’s ever wanted. He scrapes his teeth over Jaskier’s scent gland, a promise of what’s to come, and shoots burst after burst of come into him.

They collapse to the bedroll and Geralt rolls them to their sides. Jaskier is shaking, whining deep in his chest as he reaches back and clings to Geralt. “I’ve got you,” Geralt says, voice hushed and rough. He runs a hand over Jaskier’s belly, pleased to find it bulging just a little. He wonders how many rounds it would take to make him ache with it.

“Nothing prepared me for this...I didn’t know it would be so good,” Jaskier whispers. Geralt reaches down and takes him in hand again, tugging him into another orgasm just to feel his hole tighten around him again. He bites Jaskier’s shoulder as another rush of seed flows into him. He’s never liked being locked to another, stuck with them for far too long, but he feels like this won’t be long enough. He wonders if the boy has another round in him tonight; how many times he can make them both come before morning light.

“I think we’ll like travelling together,” Geralt promises him. Jaskier just shudders and presses back against him in agreement.

#jb fic #jb knotting #jb a/b/o #jb sex slave #jb virgin

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lordoftermites · 3 years

Text

The Fox & the Thornbush | Part 3

Pairing: Roiben x Kaye Rating: M for violence and bleedy bits Summary: This is it. The Undersea Attack. Maybe eventually I'll go back and do more with it but. This took... a lot to write and honestly I can't even write a summary for it. I'm sorry in advance.

part 1. // part 2.

Faerie is a deadly place, he had told her once.

Kaye hadn’t believed him then—or, more despairingly, she had believed him, and was just far too willful to listen.

Even after the coronation in Elfhame, when Balekin had slaughtered near to every member of the royal family in a coup to usurp the throne, Kaye had persisted. She left her coffee shop, her dreams, abandoned her life in the light of the mortal world to live with him in the damp darkness of the Palace of Termites.

For her sake, Roiben had tried to convince himself that it would be a good change. That it was true—he had grown weary of having to steal away like some thief in the night to see her so sparingly, only to come back to a cold bed under a cold hill, alone.

After a while he began to believe that, perhaps, now that Kaye was at his side, within his reach at all times, that the frigid ache in his chest would abate—that he could finally be content.

Perhaps faeries couldn’t speak a lie with their own mouths, but Roiben had been telling himself untruths for longer than he could remember.

Kaye rolls over onto her side, burrowing farther beneath the coverlet. Her wild hair splays in lush, green tangles over the pillow. She sleeps soundly, verdant lips parted, once in a while letting out a small sigh here or near-inaudible word there. Roiben watches her from his place on the bed—their bed, he reminds himself—as though if he were to look away, she might very well disappear with one of those sighs.

He’s been awake for hours now, ripped from yet another nightmare, his chest heaving, his stomach threatening to upend the acrid bile in the back of his throat, while morbid death stares burned behind his eyes. They were the spectres of his sins, reminding him the blood on his hands has not, and shall not, wash away.

At least, this time, there had been no screaming.

A lock of deep green hair lies across Kaye’s face. It flutters slightly when she exhales, only to fall back against her lips. Her nose crinkles in her sleep, disturbed and perhaps dreaming of something else. Roiben reaches to brush it away but stops himself short, his fingers hovering mid-air. He ought to let her just sleep, he knows.

Yet, before he can convince himself not to, he’s leaning down, brushing the hair back with his mouth instead.

Kaye stirs and makes a light, disgruntled noise, until she seems to realize what’s happening. Then she’s lazily kissing him back, pressing her lips against his, parting just enough for him to sweep her mouth. One of her hands comes up to rest on the nape of his neck, her long fingers tangling in the hair there. Roiben sighs against her lips at the feeling; it’s light and comforting, warming that chill in his bones she alone has ever been able touch.

As often as he scorns himself for giving in to her decision to stay here permanently with him in Faerie, it’s selfish moments like this that he wouldn’t have her anywhere else. He can face the demons waiting in his nightmares—so long as she’s with him.

“Well, good morning to you, too,” Kaye says drowsily, black eyes fluttering up to his, lidded with sleep and something else. Roiben hovers over her, grinning. “What was that for? I mean, not that I mind or anything.”

He shakes his head, still unused to the lightness of his newly-cropped hair. “A compulsion, I suppose,” he answers, and lowers himself again to bury his face in the crook of her neck, breathing deep the scents of moss and clover. He can’t quite bring himself to admit aloud that it was more to solidify her presence—to give himself physical reassurance that she isn’t part of a cruel trick his mind so often played on him.

Kaye strokes the back of his head gently, as if she already knows, as if perhaps she too needs the reminder that neither of them are made of phantoms and longing. Roiben kisses the column of her green neck, an arm curling under her, pulling her closer and yet still not close enough. She tilts her head with a soft hum of encouragement. “Whatever it is, I could get used to waking up like this.”

Her hands slide over his shoulders, down his bare arms, along his spine. Roiben shivers and shifts his weight, caging her body beneath him. His mouth drifts along the line of her clavicle to the base of her throat. One of his hands slips under the coverlet to the silklike flesh of her thigh, drawing it up to bracket his hip, while his lips brush against the flushed swell of her chest. Kaye’s hushed sighs as he arches against her spark a flame behind his navel, galvanizing him into urgent desire.

What he wouldn’t do to just simply stay here with her forever, to revel in her touch, her warmth, her love. Let the crowns decay. Let the duties and the demands and the courts crumble to nothing; let him be only a knight and a man again, to be content. Unburdened.

As if the fates decided he needed reminding of his reality, a light rapping at the door to his chambers breaks through their intimate solace.

Roiben ignores it at first, tells himself whatever it is will go away. Surely a herald, one of his knights, or even his chamberlain can handle it—not every small thing ought to be a king's concern, especially not when his council members are already far more inclined to do his duty for him. He doesn't cease his kisses, and instead channels into them the denial of obligations and the desires of his soul. His fingers grip Kaye's thigh tighter in desperation, attempting to tether himself to her and this moment alone. Leave us, his mind pleads. Find another doorway to darken.

But the knocking comes again, this time carrying a touch more confidence and urgency.

Suddenly furious, unfulfilled, and ultimately defeated, Roiben growls against Kaye's skin before pushing himself up. She watches him with heady eyes, seeming just as exasperated at the interruption as he. Her hand lingers on his arm. "Just tell them to fuck off," she suggests, though it's half-hearted. She knows as well as he does that it's very seldom anything he can simply wave or wish away.

"If we're fortunate," he sighs, bending down to give her one last kiss and then forcing himself to rise from the bed, "it will be nothing but our breakfast.” In a moment, he’s crossed the room and wrenched the heavy door open. Ruddles himself is there, hand raised as though he had just been about to give another, less-timid knock; he lowers the hand, and himself before Roiben, bowing low enough that his nose might brush the floor if given another half inch.

“My King,” the hob greets in his usual rasp before straightening. He seems to realize his king’s half-naked appearance and forced even breathing, but carries on. “I apologize for the disturbance at such an early hour, but I assumed you would want to be informed we’ve had a messenger come and go without our receiving him.”

Propping an arm against the door, Roiben barely suppresses a roll of his eyes. “It is not an uncommon thing for a courier to go missed.“ He knows his tone is clipped, but he doesn’t bother to correct it. “Why does this time require my chamberlain coming to my private rooms, when clearly whatever message left was not of enough import to be received in the first place?”

That seems to bristle the hob, who takes a rather deliberate, offended breath through his sharply-pointed nose. “Because, the message was left while the entire hill slept,” Ruddles answers gruffly. His brows are furrowed as if there really is something to be worried about, and his sovereign is, as usual, too unconcerned. “No one saw the messenger arrive, nor did they witness his departure.”

It’s Roiben’s turn to frown. That couldn’t be right: since the rebuilding of the Palace of Termites, they had sentries posted through dawn and dusk, and as many guards patrolling the hill. Surely someone ought to have seen this phantom envoy. Foreboding gnaws at his gut; he doesn’t like mystery, and he likes even less when that mystery involves his playing the part of the ignorant fool.

“What was this message? Did you bring it with you?”

Ruddles shakes his tawny head and wrings his hands. “It was a parcel, a large one, addressed to the Lord of the Court of Termites. We left it where it was found—” he pauses, the troubled expression on his face doing nothing to quell the rising uneasiness Roiben feels—”in the throne room… more pointedly, on your throne.”

A deliberate act, and a bold one. The thought of it sets Roiben’s teeth on edge. “I see,” he says, scrubbing a hand over his jaw, deliberating.

From behind him, Kaye yawns. Roiben turns back to look at her, where she’s stretching and rubbing the sleep from her eyes, green hair falling over her shoulders. Just the sight of her, wrapped in his spider silk coverlet and little else, makes him ache with longing. It takes everything he can muster not to bolt the door in Ruddles' face.

She squints at him, as if attempting to focus her vision or read his thoughts, tilts her head in a question. Roiben tries a casual smile and holds up a finger, before turning back to his chamberlain. “Gather Dulcamara and Ellebere,” he instructs. “See if either of them know anything. I’ll meet the three of you in the throne room presently, and we’ll see just exactly what gift our shadow messenger has left us.”

The hob gives a shallow bow and backs away before turning on his heel and setting back off through the corridor. When Roiben closes the heavy wooden door, he leans against it momentarily, breathing a long sigh that does nothing to relieve any of the pressure in his chest.

How exhausted he is of intrigues and suspicions, of forging treaties that seem as stable as a thread stretched above a candle flame. Roiben himself feels like that thread—fraying at both ends while trying to hold his kingdom between his teeth, at any moment about to burn up with the burden of it all.

Take this from me, he had once thought, after his coronation as the Unseelie ruler. I do not want to be your king.

Now, he had two crowns, each heavy as a boulder on their own. Together, they are a mountain, and may very well crush him beneath their weight.

“What was that about?” Kaye’s voice calls from the bed. Roiben moves from the door and crosses the room to sit beside her. When he goes to kiss her cheek, he takes a selfish moment to breathe in the smell of her again, something to take with him. “I’m not entirely sure,” he replies, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I expect nothing but trouble, as usual. But I won’t be gone a moment—” he leans in again, grazing his lips against her neck with a promise—”and when I return, we can forget them all again.”

Before he can lose himself, Roiben pushes off of the bed. He pulls on a fresh set of clothing—a simple black tunic with trousers to match, and a pair of boots. From the chair beside his bed, he takes up his curved sword and straps it to his waist. Its weight is one he is used to, cold and secure at his hip.

With an apologetic glance back at Kaye, who shoos him with a small wave before shuffling back under the coverlet, he slips through the door.

Dulcamara is perched on the dais when he arrives in the throne room, clad in her beetle-black armor, polishing a dagger while her pink glare remains fixed on the throne. She stands when Roiben enters, however, and gives him a small bow of her head; as reverent a gesture as he likes, if he must be revered at all. “The hob is off searching for Ellebere,” she tells him in her gravel-scraping voice. “Must we wait for our curiosities to be sated?” Her head bobs in the direction of the throne.

As proficient a knight as Dulcamara is, her impatience often wills out, even when it comes to the one she serves.

Roiben shakes his head with a snort. “I suppose it isn’t a requirement,” he admits, stepping up onto the dais. “Though I doubt Ruddles will be much pleased when we solve the mystery without him.” Even so, eyeing the parcel, Roiben finds himself every bit as curious as he is wary.

As Ruddles said, what’s been placed on his throne is no small thing: it covers nearly half the seat itself, dome-shaped and wrapped in a cloth of deep blue velvet, tied together at the top with golden string. It certainly looks like a gift. Yet, as Roiben reaches out to take the small slip of folded parchment resting beside it, his title addressed in a dark blue flourish across the front, an icy dread seeps into his bones. When he opens the letter, he has to clutch the arm of the throne as the dais pitches up to meet him.

From behind him, Dulcamara’s voice seems distant, distorted. “What does it say?” Without turning, Roiben holds the note out to her, suddenly finding it difficult to swallow—or tear his gaze from the parcel. His hand trembles as he reaches to undo the string, to look upon what he already knows lies inside the elaborate wrapping.

“‘Let us see how easily you unwind the wire of your own cage’,” Dulcamara reads. “What sort of riddle—”

“It is no riddle.” He's clenching his jaw hard enough to hurt. His hand goes to grip the blade at his hip. “It is a threat.”

Unwrapped and glinting in the candlelight, just as he remembers, is the gilded birdcage that once held his friend and subject, Lutie-Loo—the very one he freed her from in Balekin’s office less than a year ago. Roiben had made a fool of the would-be king then, promising fealty when he’d already sworn to Prince Dain. Now it would seem his trickery is finally being repaid.

“Dulcamara,” Roiben starts, whirling around, “we need—”

An eruption of sound outside the throne room cuts off whatever order might have given. Before either of them have time to move, Ellebere barrels into the hall, sword in one hand, the other covering his side. Blood and dirt streak his pale face, only adding to the intensity of his frantic expression. “The Undersea,” the knight stammers, “they’re here. They’ve been here.”

Ruddles’ words echo dully in Roiben’s mind. No one saw the messenger arrive, nor did anyone witness his departure.

As Ellebere clambers up onto the dais, Roiben is reminded with a turning in his stomach of the last time he saw the knight in such a state, when Silarial made her move on the court. They had nearly been destroyed because of his underestimating and overconfidence. Has he once again brought ruin to his people? To…

“Kaye.”

The brugh swirls around him. His breath is trapped in his lungs.

As a swarm of bodies pours into the hall, the sharp clashing of metal against metal resounding through the hollow hill, Roiben can see none of it; only Kaye’s face, bloodied and lifeless.

Dead, because of him.

Something solid shoves into him, nearly knocking him to the ground before his legs catch him. Jolted back to the present, he jerks his head up just as Dulcamara brings her blade down in an arc across the front of an advancing selkie; the faerie crumples at her feet, black blood spilling onto the already gore-stained floor of the dais. It had gotten that close, and Roiben hadn’t even seen it. Dulcamara whips around to look at him, pink glare ablaze. Before she can scold him, he shakes his head and grips the sword he can’t remember drawing.

“I have to get to Kaye,” he shouts above the skirmish, already retreating down the other side of the dais, cutting through another Undersea soldier as it hurtles toward him. He is already charging down the hall before she can protest or follow, fear propelling his steps and his blade.

The battle seems to be more focused on the throne room, thankfully; Roiben is stalled only once, by a selkie warrior wielding a longsword of shark bone. Though he takes a slash to the thigh, the other faerie is not nearly as fortunate. He falls to his knees, clutching the gaping hole in his chest when Roiben withdraws his blade.

Biting through the searing pain in his leg, Roiben pushes on, repeating silent pleas that he not be too late.

As he comes to the door of his chambers, a fresh wave of glacial panic seizes him; the door has been thrown wide open and is hanging from the hinges. From the other side he can hear crashing, breaking. A struggle, and then a scream.

Kaye is screaming.

Roiben never feels himself move. He sees nothing but the flash of his sword, slicing through the gray-blue neck of an Undersea knight; hears nothing but his own cry of wild rage, his own deafening heartbeat in his ears. In less than breath, both Kaye and her attacker lie on the floor in a pool of mingling black and crimson.

It has happened, yet Roiben cannot shake the fog of unreality that strangles his breathing, weakens his legs, clouds his vision. His sword falls from his hand, and he collapses to his knees beside Kaye. He stares down in horror at the deep red gash from her throat to her sternum. Someone is sobbing. Blood streams from the wound—too much. There is too much blood.

He pulls her into his lap, holds her gently, covers what he can with a trembling hand. Dark, ruby warmth spills through his fingers and over his wrist. “Kaye,” he chokes, reaching to touch her cheek. His fingers are wet with blood and he has to brace against the sick twisting of his stomach.

Her black eyes are wild and unfocused, but she finds him. Grasps his arm desperately, gasping. She opens her mouth to speak, the beginning of his name on her ashen lips, but it comes out a fearful, small sound, and she doesn’t finish. Roiben strokes her hair and hushes her softly, bringing a kiss to her cool, damp forehead. When he pulls back, the unhinged terror in her eyes burrows like a dagger into his heart. “It’s...“

It’s going to be alright, he tries to tell her. The words will not form.

He cannot force back the sob at realizing why he can't say it. It could be a lie, and Kaye might die right here, in his room. In his arms. Dead before their life together had barely begun. Dead because he hadn't been fast enough. Because he had allowed it—because he had caused it.

Roiben can console himself no more than he can console her.

Faerie is a deadly place, he had told her once.

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owletstarlet · 3 years

Text

water, sunlight (tender mercy)

“You’re full,” the spirit insists, eyes round and steady. “This will help.”

(also known as, owlet’s ill-advised spin on hanahaki. CW for Natsume’s Terrible Childhood, as well as a bit of a CW for symptoms of Vague Anime Illness during this our extended plague year.)

Ao3 link in the notes.

***

Four days.

He was twelve years old.

Twelve years old, and about to look after his aunt and uncle’s house during their long weekend trip north. He didn’t mind, had looked forward to it, honestly; he’d be on school break himself, and the quiet of the empty house had sounded more than appealing.

His cousin, two years older, had been tasked with leaving the spare key where Takashi could find it, under the potted yuzu tree on the porch.

Except she never did.

He tried and failed to find an unlatched window to shimmy through. He’d had enough change on him for a payphone, but the name and number of the hotel had been scrawled down on a pad left in the kitchen.

He contemplated the police station, next. But by now, so late in the day, his guardians would have reached their destination hours away. He’d head off the potential fallout from troubling them; they weren’t the warmest of people but Takashi was provided for, didn’t mind his school, and he hadn’t managed to step out of line just yet.

Four days couldn’t be so long, surely.

But then he’d misjudged some things. Namely, how much food that pocketful of change could get him at the hundred-yen shop, how cold it could still get at night even in early March, and how no 24-hour convenience store or café would let him in for long to warm up if he couldn’t pay for anything.

And it hadn’t been that bad, all things considered—the park he’d stayed overnight in was near enough to people’s homes that the larger youkai steered clear, and then on that last night when a chilly rain had driven him indoors the lady from the convenience store gave him a bento she’d been prepared to toss out, even heated it up for him.

And when his aunt and uncle returned to him dozing off on the porch, all it took was a quick lie about having locked himself out that morning and they were none the wiser to the whole ordeal. He even got to keep the food money, having tucked it away into his pillowcase the night before they’d left.

And yes, it’d been uncomfortable, and inconvenient. But definitely not worth waking up in a frigid sweat over, four years later.

It’s not just the once, either.

He’s otherwise had a nice week; there’d been a school trip to the botanical garden for everyone in their year. Touko had sent Takashi along with cranberry muffins for everyone to share on the train, and Nishimura hadn’t stopped rapturously singing their praises for the rest of the day. They’d made a sort of competition out comparing their mandatory sketches of the different plants to see whose bush clover was the very worst, and bickered a bit over what the prize ought to be while Sasada, their de-facto judge, just rolled her eyes at them and told them they ought to at least try. Takashi had dozed off for most of the train ride back, a dreamless nap, while Kitamoto and Taki took it upon themselves to steer him by the shoulders back from the train station to the bus stop. Takashi had let himself be led, in a pleasant twilit daze, all the way back to the Fujiwaras’ front door.

He woke up crying out, that night, heart hurling itself against a chest that felt brittle and thin.

***

Three days later finds Takashi crouched in the moss of a little forest clearing, riding out the wave of dizziness as a name swirls through the air above him. Its owner gives him a smile as it sinks through their skin—no flickers of Reiko this time, no associated memory for Takashi to absorb in turn. And there isn’t always, that’s not unusual, but what is unusual is the way they lean forward towards him once the process is complete, to place a cool finger right between his eyes. Once Takashi stops seeing double, he thinks hazily that the youkai looks rather like an heirloom doll—glossy straight hair, round apple-cheeks, blush-pink kimono—but their mouth is pinched, as if in passing concern.

“You’re full,” they tell him.

Takashi just blinks at them.

“Care to elaborate?” Beside him, Sensei’s eyes narrow. “Or don’t. We were just leaving.”

“You’re full,” the spirit insists, eyes round and steady. “This will help.”

They slide their fingers downwards across his face, his neck, to rest at the hollow of his throat. Takashi feels the pop, the sudden chill sinking through his flesh.

Sensei forces his way between them, then, poking at Takashi’s skin with his paw. “What was that?” he demands.

“A nudge,” the ayakashi says, simply. Seconds later, they’ve vanished.

***

Takashi doesn’t notice straightaway. He’s bleary-eyed and yawning through his Civics assignment after dinner, but he’d returned a name just hours before, so it doesn’t exactly raise an alarm bell. Neither does the tickle in the back of his throat, not when the weather’s chilly and half the school is sneezy and runny-nosed at the moment. He drinks the honeyed tea Touko brings him and has all but forgotten about it as he climbs into his futon that night.

He’s twelve years old. He wishes he’d taken a coat, before they’d left.

Touko offers, in the morning, to keep him home from school; he’d been coughing last night, loud enough that the sound carried down the hall. But Takashi can’t remember it, the only apparent trace of it in the persistent tickle that has him clearing his throat every now and then, so he accepts a mask and a thermos of tea and her pat to his cheek, then leaves as usual.

He’s not feeling truly dreadful until lunch the following day; throat prickling, chest too tight, stomach roiling too much to handle more than a few bites of rice. Nishimura walks him home, looping their arms together and resolutely waving off Takashi’s worry that he’ll just get him sick, too. They stop twice, Takashi left winded and red-faced from the deeper, heavier coughs that had begun just hours before.

Touko makes him tea again that night, when he feels bolstered enough to make his way back down to the kitchen for okayu that hurts to swallow. But the thick cup slips from his fingers seconds after she presses is into his hand. It cracks into three neat pieces when it hits the floor, its contents splattering his socks and the toes of Touko’s slippers.

He’s barely opened his mouth to apologize—

Cracked porcelain. Scalded fingers going red. Heartbeat in his throat.

He was seven years old.

“I—”

Whatever he was about to say is snatched away by a low, deep cough, colliding with the sudden urge to be sick.

He manages to keep his dinner down, just barely, after some not-so-deep breaths through his nose over the toilet he’d bolted to. But he’s leaning over anyways, moments later, hacking and spitting and something just beneath his sternum rips itself free.

He peers into the water, at the white scraggly thing, half curled in on itself, that he’s somehow just choked up.

He blinks, flushes it down. Heads straight up to bed, dazed, wondering with a sudden icy pinprick of fear just what he’d been about to say to Touko.

He wakes again that night, throat searing, the sight of blistered fingers and tea-darkened wood floors burned into the backs of his eyelids.

Sensei’s eyes narrow. “A chrysanthemum?” He prods at the damp crumpled thing lying on Takashi’s pillowcase, this one’s petals shot through with burgundy.

Takashi stares at it, knees drawn up beneath his chin, chest aching like something’s been torn loose from him.

***

Two nights later and he’s curled on his side, cheek pressed against the cool whorls of wood where Sensei had deposited him on the doorstep of the Yatsuhara Temple. Hauling himself upright to reach the doorbell is beyond him. He gets a shaky fist up to knock, somehow, unsure who will answer the door. Tanuma had said something about his dad and a business trip, maybe, but the details are like water through a sieve in his mind.

Nothing happens. He’s at the bottom of a lake, pushed down and down and when the sound of a doorbell drifts through his ears a nebulous moment later, it’s beyond him to wonder just how on earth Sensei managed to do that.

He senses the light of the opened door through shuttered eyes. A sharp intake of breath, a dull thunk of knees dropping to the floor beside him that he feels more than hears.

“Natsume?” Tanuma’s voice has gone low with fright, one tentative hand on his shoulder and another, seconds later, lighting on his forehead. It makes his skin prickle, and he feels his face screw up.

“Wh—is he hurt?”

“He asked to come here,” Sensei says, obliquely.

Takashi finds a thready sliver of his voice then, opens one eye to Tanuma’s face washed bloodless by the porch light, gaping at him. “Sorry,” he starts, but the word ends jagged on a cough.

And another, and another, and then he’s spitting mouthful after cloying mouthful of bruised petals into his own shaking fingers.

Before he’s opened his streaming eyes he feels cool hands uncover his mouth, a thumb swiping across his chin.

“What…what is this?”

***

Takashi has no real awareness of how he got inside, or even what room he’s in; just that they’re on the floor, that Tanuma’s got him gathered up in his arms.

He tries to lay him out flat, but an odd, reedy sound shakes loose from Takashi’s throat and he feeels his own fingers scrabbling at Tanuma’s sleeve. Tanuma stops halfway to the floor, a panicked question in his eyes, holding Takashi in place awkwardly half-cradled against his chest.

“Hurts,” Takashi manages, breathlessly, by way of explanation. He can’t elaborate. He watches frantic, imploring eyes flick to Sensei instead.

“He’s cursed.” Takashi can’t see him but there’s an edge to his voice. “Some busybody got it into their head that they were doing him a favor. Now he’s choking up flowers every minute or so, as if that’s at all useful. He’s got a soggy little garden in there now.” Takashi feels a paw prodding his ribs. “You could see them, couldn’t you? Out on the doorstep.”

Tanuma nods, slowly, and Takashi watches a dozen questions flit through his eyes. But he must see that Takashi can’t spare the breath for the answers, so instead he says, “How do we stop it?”

Sensei sighs. “Seems like it’ll resolve itself, sooner or later. The brat’s just selective about his audience for it. And your house was closer than the Taki girl’s, so here we are.”

“‘M sorry,” Takashi repeats, through a wheeze. “B-but Touko-san and Shigeru-san, they can’t…” It’s true, and it’s urgent, but the words escape his grasp like slippery minnows so all he can do is look up, dazed and panting as though he’d sprinted here.

“…maybe you shouldn’t be talking right now.” And with that, Takashi feels himself being gently turned and positioned so his back is against Tanuma’s chest.

“That’s the trouble, isn’t it,” Sensei mutters, even as Takashi’s pressing both hands over his mouth again while his chest, or his stomach, or some elusive in-between place, has begun to turn itself inside out again.

His fingers come away cupping a tattered flower, yellow now with splotches of red that stain his skin where the petals touch, and Tanuma sucks in a breath.

“What’s happening to you?”

He finds out, soon enough.

***

A water bottle with a cracked lid. His homeroom teacher, her kind face taut as she asked him to open his bento. He’d figured if he tucked himself in the corner and let it sit on the edge of the desk, nobody would ask. He was dizzy, his limbs felt like they might evaporate into the stuffy air. He wondered if she’d let him put his head down until the period ended.

He was thirteen years old.

Sensei rolled in an empty wastebasket, at some point. Takashi’s got his arms locked around it, head lolling halfway inside it. Tanuma hadn’t interrupted, hasn’t said a word other than the whispered assurances beside his ear every time something rips inside him, leaving him hacking and teary-eyed and trying not to whimper. The words, when they come, are drawn out like some unspooling thread, from the dustiest corners of his mind that he never looks at too closely.

Knees pulled up to his chest in the dark, perched on a musty stack of futons. Clutching at his stinging cheek, ears pricked for heavy, meandering footsteps.

He was eight years old.

Tanuma started tracing slow circles into his shoulder, at some point, while he spits bits of himself into the wastebasket.

“If you can stand, I can—my bed…”

“Doubtful,” Sensei says. He’s pressed lengthwise against Takashi’s thigh.

Scraped arms wrapped tight around a branch that feels weak, precarious in the breeze. The creature gazing up at him, amused, blackened blood on its lips. Thunder rolling in, far off still but the air already thick and charged.

He was ten years old.

It takes a bit of time to come back to himself, to slip back into his body from the spaces between. It’s not over, he knows, but Tanuma’s pressing a glass of water into his hands now, helping lift it to his lips when it’s clear his fingers have all but gone wooden.

The long look Tanuma gives him once he’s set the glass aside makes Takashi feel pinned down like an insect to a corkboard. It’s an odd crooked angle to look up at him from; the side of Takashi’s head is braced against his collarbone. But Tanuma’s jaw is locked, and his eyes are red and wet, seem like they have been for awhile but Takashi doesn’t have the presence of mind to recall when that had started.

He’s carding back Takashi’s damp fringe while Takashi wishes he could just squirm away, fingers endlessly careful even as his voice turns steely.

“It isn’t right.”

Takashi pushes the “sorry” out on a wheeze; it feels like an exercise in futility when there’s that itching promise behind his ribs of more to come, that stopping it would be like trying to swim straight up a waterfall.

Tanuma shakes his head, fingers coming to rest on Takashi’s cheek, where there must be dried-up spittle and bits of plant matter and blood coating the skin.

“It’s not—“ he starts to say, then lets out an unsteady breath. “It’s not what you’re telling me. I mean. That’s not right, either. And you shouldn’t ever believe it was. But you…” he trails off again, like he’s trying to parse out the proper words, and Takashi’s suspended, hovering right on the edge of something vast and formless and ready to snap him right up.

“These things…” he waves his hand vaguely at the wastebasket. “You never would’ve told me any of this, if that spirit hadn’t forced you, would you.” It’s not a question, but it’s not an indictment. Takashi says nothing.

“You shouldn’t have had to,” he continues, softly. “Ever, if you didn’t want to. It should have been your call.”

The sound that escapes Takashi’s mouth then is a bitten-off, ugly thing. He’s not sure when his eyes closed, but he feels the careful pads of thumbs swiping away the at the hollows beneath them.

“I meant that, but I didn’t mean to make you cry.” A pause, and Tanuma’s pinched face finally swims back into view above him. “You should try to finish the water, okay?”

He does, but there’s the sensation of tacks pressed into his throat when he swallows.

A sound of shuffling, then Sensei’s poking his knee. He’s dragged in a cushion that Takashi thinks came from the sitting room. “Just put him down here, if he can take it,” he huffs. “It looks like you’ve been trying to cradle a cooked noodle for the past hour.”

He ends up on his side with his cheek squashed against the cushion, a scent of stale incense clinging to the fabric, Sensei firmly sandwiched between his stomach and his arm.

Tanuma sits cross-legged in front of him, one hand resting on Takashi’s upper arm. His eyes are still puffy but he looks thoughtful, now.

“You know that Jizo altar in the garden?” he asks.

Takashi blinks, manages a nod.

“So, um. Yesterday I was out there sweeping and pulling the weeds around it, and I went around the back side and there was a swallow’s nest… I mean, I think that’s what it was, it looked like it was more mud than sticks and it was wedged up where the wall meets the roof.”

“Too early in the year for swallows, isn’t it.” Sensei’s voice is muffled by Takashi’s forearm.

“I thought so too. I haven’t seen any out there yet, but Dad said I could use his camera to try to get some photos anyways. He’ll put them in the monthly newsletter. And I’d like to get up there to see if there are any eggs inside, but…”

“It’d make a decent snack, if there were,” Sensei drawls. Takashi can’t muster much force, but he manages to flick Sensei in the ear hard enough to elicit an indignant squawk.

“I’m a little afraid that the swallows are gonna come back while I’m there and give me a hard time about it,” Kaname says, a rueful quirk to his lips.

“D-do swallows even…” Takashi has to stop halfway through to muster the breath, to gulp hard past prickling that’s morphed into burning. “Would they attack people?”

Sensei’s head pops up then, chin resting on Takashi’s arm. “Hah. If they do, I hope you record it.”

Tanuma’s hand migrates to the top of Sensei’s head. “Well you could just come see for yourself,” he says, fingers seeking out the spots around the bases of the ears Sensei likes best. “I was going to ask Natsume if he wanted to help get the photo. Once you’re feeling up to it,” he adds, to Takashi. Takashi manages a bare nod.

“Oh, and,” he goes on, with a considering glance towards the darkened window, “I’d thought it’d probably be a good idea to put a box on the ground underneath, with some newspaper inside? In case it falls.”

Takashi can feel another cough mounting behind his sternum, the wrongness clamoring to wrench itself free; knows he’s about to be swallowed up by another place and time. His lips twitch anyway.

“Kind of you.” The breath behind the words is rattling oddly, and judging by the tightness around Tanuma’s eyes, he doesn’t miss it.

“Well, I mean,” Tanuma says, after a beat of silence, with a thin smile of his own. “It’s probably pretty bad luck to let a bunch of of baby birds die right beside a Jizo, or bad form at least, but. Thanks. You can help with that too, if you want.”

Before Takashi can answer, the words have fallen straight out of his head and bled through the floor. And he’s tipping backwards, down, down until he’s nine years old again.

A bus stop in the rain, a rapidly darkening sky. His aunt was an hour and a half late, now. He’d just walk, if he knew the way.

Hungry yellow eyes, glinting out from between the bush and a vending machine.

***

Tanuma’s not there when Takashi wakes. He doesn’t remember falling asleep. But the sheets on Tanuma’s bed smell like his uniform, tatami and detergent and incense. The curtain’s closed, but he can see the light peeking through the edges.

He doesn’t try to sit up. His chest feels scraped hollow and his brain skitters away from the thought of the mouthfuls of blood that had come up with the flowers. Sensei’s nowhere to be seen.

He’s staring at the ceiling lamp, drifting, when Tanuma appears in the doorway with a tray in hand. He opts not to flick the light on, setting the tray down to lean over the bed and draw the curtain halfway back. Takashi doesn’t need to ask if he got any sleep at all, not when he looks for all the world like he got punched in both eyes. But his smile had been real and relieved when he’d seen that Takashi was awake.

“I brought tea,” he says, perching on the edge of the bed. “But you’ll probably want water first, right?”

He does—he ends up chugging down two-thirds of the offered bottle like he’s dying, one of Tanuma’s hands behind his head and the other steadying his elbow, until Tanuma gently pries it from his fingers to keep him from being sick.

“Where’s Sensei?” he asks moment later, in a sandpaper voice, while Tanuma helps prop him up on the headboard.

“He said something about going back to the Fujiwaras’, pretending to be you long enough to come down for breakfast and tell them you were headed here for the day.”

Takashi grimaces, and the look Tanuma gives him is sympathetic and only slightly amused. “It’s better than making them worry, right? I’m glad it’s not a school day, anyways.”

They’re silent for a moment, after that, while Tanuma pours him the tea. Takashi smells lemon and honey. He stares down at the cup warming his chilled fingers, watches the steam curling towards his face. It’s good, but he feels torn open, still, like the whole of him is an exposed nerve.

“I—”

“If you’re trying to apologize, please don’t,” Tanuma says, abruptly, meeting his eyes. “You already did. A lot.”

“Oh.” He takes a sip of tea, not sure what else to do.

“Sorry. Just. You didn’t need to, is all. None of that was my business, if you didn’t want it to be. I told you that.” Takashi watches his jaw clench and unclench. “It just…made me. Really angry, at some people I’ve never met.”

“You don’t need to be,” Takashi murmurs, more to the blankets on his lap than to Tanuma. “It’s, um. It was long enough ago that who knows how much of it I was even remembering right.” He shrugs, and the movement makes his ribs ache. “And the Fujiwaras are kind, anyways. I’m lucky.”

Maybe it’s the wrong thing to say, because Tanuma’s face does something odd. Then his cup is taken out of his hands, and there are arms wrapped around his back, and a face buried in his hair. He’s shaking. Maybe they both are. Takashi goes still for all of two seconds before his arms are coming up too, of their own accord, and he’s clinging right back like his life depends on it. Like he could sink right through Tanuma’s skin, if he could just hold on tight enough. He’d be alright with that, he thinks. He’s lucky in more ways than one.

Beside them, the tea grows cold, dappled light falling across their knees.

***

#not great but i’m tired of looking at it #about the illness cw it’s a lot of coughing so 🙃#which makes everyone and their dog anxious right now #natsume's book of friends #natsume yuujinchou #tanunatsu #tanuma kaname #natsume takashi #cw child abuse #cw illness #owlet's fanfic #natsume yuujinchou fanfiction

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xbreezymeadowsx · 4 years

Text

A Telford Tea Party

A/N: Pure, unadulterated FLUFF. Inspired by my favorite thirsty Flanagan obsessed girls and what’s said in our chat.

Chibs x Reader

This has not been proofread and therefore may contain spelling or grammatical errors. Oops.

TW: Nothing should be triggering unless you hate daddies having tea parties with their little girls.

PREPARE YOUR OVARIES!

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(this gif just seemed appropriate somehow. Not mine, credit to the maker.)

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Dada... Chibs grumbled burying his face in his pillow. "Dada." He cracked one eye open and squint, scanning the bits of room he could see when a little face was suddenly taking up his whole view. "Daddy." The four year old girl said firmly, letting him know he wouldn't be going back to sleep. He smiled sleepily and moved an arm from under his pillow to tuck some of her silky brunette hair from her face. "Mornin', Tilly." He graveled. Her hazel eyes lit up and she giggled. "Goo monin'!" She smiled brightly. Chibs groaned as he rolled to his back again and stretched as his daughter knelt on the bed, the empty half of the bed. "Where's yer Ma?" He asked with a yawn, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Da movie place." She told him. "Aun'ie Lyla as'ed her fo' sum'tin. Baby Mal wen', too." "Oh, okay." He thanked her for explaining it further. "Daddy, can we have a tea party?" She begged, giving him puppy dog eyes. "Do we hafta?" Chibs grumped. "Pweeeeeeease?" The little girl plead and clasped her hands in front of herself. He sighed, it didn't take much for the little one to get her way with him. "Fine." He huffed, scoffing at his lack of will power. "Lemme take a shower quick, okay?" "O'tay!" "Go ge' yer sissy an' set up in the playroom." He told her, tickling her side and making her squeal and jump off the bed. "BRINNNNAAAAAAA!!!" She hollered as she raced out the bedroom door. After showering and quickly dressing in black jeans and black SAMCRO t-shirt, Chibs went into the kitchen to grab a jug of sweet tea and tin of shortbread. However, as he turned the corner, he was greeted with the sight of his six year old standing on the counter next to the fridge, the four year old standing on the chair they'd pushed over there, and their six year old brindled shepherd mix Jameson prancing excitedly in place watching his little humans going after something near the treats he couldn't reach and hoping they'd knock the container down. The pajama clad girls- the pair looked nearly identical save for the elder being a head taller- froze in place and stared wide-eyed at him. "Sabrina Rose. Matilda Mae." Chibs said sternly, setting his fists on his hips. "Uh-oh." They gasped in unison. Chibs scooped them up and set them on the hardwood floor. "Couldn' wait ten minutes, eh?" He asked in amusement. He shook his head, chuckling and ruffled their long hair. He reached on top of the refrigerator and took the blue tin the girls had been after, handing it to his oldest. "I'll get the tea." Y/N opened the truck door and reached in to get the three month old out of his carseat as he babbled and waved his orange rattleball around. The neck of his green dinosaur onesie was covered in slobber and drool. "Yes, yes, yes. We're so happy, aren't we? Yes, we are." Y/N cooed as she picked the baby up and held under his butt as he leaned into her shoulder. "Auntie Lyla and the girls spoiled you, didn't they? I saw them sneaking you whipped cream. All that damn sugar's got you wound up." She slung the Harley Davidson diaper bag over her shoulder and grabbed the bag of groceries she'd picked up on the way home before heading to the front door. Once inside, she set the bags on the kitchen table and shift her son to her other arm. "Now, where's Daddy and the girls, huh?" She asked the baby. He looked at his mother curiously before letting out a shrill scream of joy. Y/N cringed. "Malcolm Robert Telford, you're gonna make my ears bleed." In the playroom, Chibs shift uncomfortably in his tiny, tiny pink chair. He would've liked to have sit on the floor, but his girls insisted he had to sit at the table like a proper gentleman. He watched Tilly- a sky blue fairy costume on over her pajamas including wings with an Anna from Frozen glittery tiara- pick up the little plastic pink teapot in the middle of the round white table and pour nothing into a mismatched tiny purple teacup in front of one of their guests. "Mo' tea, Mr. Bear?" She asked the large teal teddy bear. She turned to her other side and poured some into a large blue teacup for her sister's yellow lab, Jax. "May I have more tea, Daddy?" Brina asked in a horrible attempt at some kind of European accent. While her younger sibling was clearly a typical girly-girl, Sabrina wasn't. She, too, wore a costume dress but her's was black velvet with gold trim. She looked like a regal witch or vampire... if it weren't for the mini felt top hat and the headband that made it look like she had an arrow through her head. "Of course, sweethear'." He replied warmly and picked up the larger stainless steel teapot. Clinking came from inside from ice cubes sloshing around as he poured iced tea into her cup which was actually a black enamel camping mug. "Can I have a'nudder cookie?" Tilly asked sweetly, not bothering to fake an accent. "Haven' ya already 'ad three?" Chibs asked, raising an eyebrow and already knowing the answer. "Nooooo." His younger daughter trailed off not looking her father in the eye. Sabrina cackled at her sister's bad acting. Chibs pretend to wipe his face to hide his smirk. "How abou' we split one?" He compromised and picked up a shortbread from the Santa platter the girls had piled them on. Tilly nodded eagerly and held out her little plastic Disney Inside Out Joy dessert plate. Chibs broke the cookie in two pieces as even as he could and set one half on her plate and the other on his red Elmo face plate. "Daddy! Your hat!" Sabrina exclaimed realizing Chibs had taken it off at some point without them noticing. He reached up and felt his head. "Oh no! It's gone!" He cried, faking shock. "Someone stole it!" He shout, so clearly upset at this revelation. Tilly started frantically looking behind the plushies and lifting plates up as if the rainbow striped pinwheel hat would be hiding under them. Brina searched in the nearest toy chest, suspicious. The last two times the hat went missing, that's where it was. She slammed the lid shut hopelessly when her search came up empty. "Sissy, look'it!" Matilda ordered pointing a little index finger across the room. Chibs internally cringed and prayed the hat was destroyed by now. "Jamie, no!" Sabrina rushed the dog and began tugging the hat from him. He growled lightly and tugged back, wagging his tail and thinking she wanted to play. Unfortunately for the mutt, he'd done enough damage already that one more solid yank and the fabric seperated with an audible rrrrrrrip. The little girl flopped on her behind with a thump. "Bad dog!" She reprimanded him. Jameson spit out his half of the rainbow and whimpered, approaching the little girl and snuffling around her head. He licked her cheeks and she scrunched her shoulders, shrieking with laughter at his tickly whiskers and unable to stay mad at the innocent beast. "Wha's Daddy supposed to wear now? He needs a hat!" The young toddler declared before scurrying to the dress-up closet. Chibs whistled and called the dog off his daughter, her face having been slurped on enough. "Go lay down, ya mongrel." He chide goodnaturedly. He helped his daughter wipe her face off with a napkin. "I found a hat, Daddy!" Matilda proclaimed, emerging from the closet and holding something up triumphantly. Chibs face feel momentarily at the sight before changing his expression to something neutral. "Maybe no' tha' one, princess." He denied gently. The green plastic bowler hat was missing a chunk of hat and the white ribbon with four leaf clovers that usually wrapped around it was dangling over the edge of the rim like a graduation cap tassel. The little girl frowned and studied the hat. "I guess not." She agreed sadly and chucked it in the small trash bin between the girls' drawing tables. Seeing her sister on the verge of crying, Sabrina hurried over and ushered her back into the closet to help her find a more suitable hat. Y/N stood in the doorway watching her husband interact with their girls. Malcolm was quietly sucking on his thumb, head laying on her shoulder. It melt her heart every time she saw them all. Filip was always so good with his children and the girls had him wrapped around their little pinkies most of the time. He was stern when he needed to be, but honestly the girls were rarely brats. She swooned when she saw Matilda run to her father and hold up a plastic gold crown with colored jewel beads adorning it. Chibs gushed at how perfect the item was and scooped the girl up, standing her on his knees so she could place it on his head. Thrilled, Tilly set the crown atop his head and declared him king of the tea party. She hopped back to the carpeted floor as Sabrina joined her and the pair curtsied before their king. "Greetings, my liege." Chibs snapped his eyes up and found his wife and baby boy watching them from the doorway. A loving smile gracing Y/N's face. "Miladies," He addressed his daughters. "Look! Tis my Queen returned from her travels!" The girls curtsied to her. Y/N curtsied back with a soft giggle. "I do apologize for missing tea time. I needed to acquire more covers and a rash tincture for Prince Malcolm's royal fanny." Her daughters roared with laughter, falling to the floor in a pile of wiggly court jesters. The baby picked his head up and watched his big sisters before giggling sleepily. Chibs groaned as he stood. He pressed his hands to his lower back, leaning backwards to stretch his aching bones. He carefully skirt around the flopping sillies on the floor and held his hands out with wide eyes and big smile. "There's ma'boy!" He cheered. His smile threatened to split his face in two when he saw the baby boy excited to see him. Malcolm screeched and giggled, trying to fling himself from his mother's arms towards his father. "Hiya! Were ya good fer yer Mama?" He questioned in a voice he reserved for babies. "Didya go see Auntie Lyla? Was she filmin'?" He heard Y/N scoff as she fixed the little one's cotton shorts. "Ha! No. Say we didn't see any of that naughty stuff, Daddy." Y/N told her son to say knowing he'd just babble or blow a spit bubble instead. She looked to her husband as he kissed the light haired, blue-grey eyed bundle of joy all over his head and cheeks. "They were on lunch... brunch, I guess? when we got there. Everyone in robes, dirty bits hidden from innocent eyes." "Tha's a shame." Chibs joked earning a backhand on his free shoulder. He snickered and winked at Y/N before leaning in for a kiss. "Missed ya." He muttered against her lips. "Mm, you missed sleeping till noon." Y/N teased. "Tha', too." He agreed with a cheeky grin. "Daddy, can we go to the park?" Matilda asked, the girls' laughing fit having subsided finally. Chibs turned to his wife. Before Y/N could answer Malcolm started grunting, his face going red before the unpleasant sounds of a much needed diaper change filled their ears. "EEWWW!" The girls exclaimed, faces scrunched up in disgust. "We can go later, okay?" Y/N told them. "It's lunchtime now, then naptime." The girls started whining. "Hey, no whining." "No nap, no park." Chibs said, backing up his wife. The girls scowled, knowing it was too late to try to persuade him otherwise now that he showed he was with Mom. "Keep makin' tha' face an' it'll stick like tha'." He threatened, a sideways glance to Y/N who gave him a mischevious half-grin. "I'll ge' the lad changed an' down fer his nap." He told her, kissing her cheek. Y/N sighed softly, leaning into his lips. "Okay. We'll clean up in here and get lunch going." She decided, stepping aside to let the boys out of the room. "Come along, ya wee bug. We'll get a fresh nappie, read tha' book abou' a wee mouse an' a biscuit, play some o' tha' Celtic lullaby music ya love, an' have a bit o' dreamin'. Sound good?" Chibs spoke softly to his son as he moved down the hallway to the baby's room. Y/N turned to her daughters, taking out her phone and snapping a picture of the dressed up pair before smiling at them. "Shall we have chicken fingers for lunch?" She quiered. The girls nod enthusiastically. "Anything else?" "Neeps an' tatties!" Chibs called down the hallway. Y/N rolled her eyes, but the girls were already getting more excited. The girls loved her homemade mashed potatoes and turnips. "Alright, then. I think we have some mash leftover from dinner." She sighed. "Start cleaning and I'll get the chicken in the oven." She told the girls. "Okay, Mama!" They agreed as she turned and made her way to the kitchen. Once the food was warming up, she was jotting something down on the grocery list on the counter when the sounds in her house distracted her. Sabrina and Matilda were giggling with each other, toys and make believe sets were clattering here and there as the siblings no doubt were throwing everything haphazardly into random toy chests, the rumbles of Chibs' Scottish brogue float down the hallway as he read a bedtime story to their baby, and the sounds of yipping and collar tags jingling were heard from the living room as Jameson dreamed of chasing squirrels. Y/N breathed deeply and sighed, content. This was her favorite thing in the world. The sounds of home.

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chrisrainicorn · 4 years

Photo

Fair Game Week Day 6: Atlas Ball

Posting a little late than usual but it’s for a good reason!

Ok so, my original plan for this was to make a comic of a short scene that I had in my mind, but when I was typing out the dialogue to plan it, I realized wow this is going to be so big and a pain to draw in just a few days, I wish I could just write it instead :/

And then I realized there’s nothing stopping me from doing exactly that lmao. So yeah, I wrote it, and it allowed me to go waaay further than I would go with the comic! So you can read that short fic under the cut (warning for extremely cheesy fluff bellow):

The music coming from the ballroom was dulled by the passing breeze flowing through the spacious balcony. It brought him an immediate feeling of relief, he was already getting sick of the same lifeless background waltz playing in an endless loop anyway.

Qrow leaned his elbows against the marble rails, it felt cold to the touch and he appreciated the sensation. He had ditched the coat on his way up already, and now away from being surrounded by Atlas elite, fake laughs, boring music and trays of expensive drinks, he had to have some serious self-control to not jump off the railing and fly away from there.

He didn’t though. His nieces had been so excited about the ball and helping him pick his clothes, not being there when they would want to leave would break their hearts. And it’s not like the event was that bad, but he could only cause a certain number of waiters to stumble and see nearby couples stepping on each other's feet during their dance for so long before feeling like he needed to get out of there.

Yet it seemed he wasn’t going to be alone for long.

“Getting some fresh air?” He had heard the footsteps approach, only turning to look at the newcomer after the question. Clover stopped by his side, leaning against the railing in a position similar to his.

“Yeah, you could say that.” His lips curled up as he spoke. “This kind of thing can get boring real quick.”

“Tell me about it.” He let out a sigh, throwing his head back. His hairdo was slightly messier than usual, a few strands of his bangs refusing to stay up like the others, maybe he had been dancing… Qrow diverted his eyes away the moment Clover spoke up again. “The kids seem to be having fun though.”

“Yeah.” He chuckled lightly. Before leaving the main area, he had caught a glimpse of Yang and Blake on the dance floor and he would bet they would stay there for a while. Jaune, Oscar and Nora had been obsessing over the huge chocolate fountain, and it didn’t take long for them to drag poor Ren into their taste testing. Ruby had been by Weiss’ side, trying to distract her partner from being that close to people she previously was associated with - she also needed some support to walk on her stupid lady stilts so guess Weiss was there for that too. “It’s good to see them loosing up a bit.”

Clover didn’t say anything for a moment, Qrow looked over at him, finding him staring in that way that made the bottom of his stomach cold. “Don't you think that you should be trying to loosen up yourself?”

“I am-” No he wasn’t, if the way he had already had messed with his hair, taken off his coat and rolled his sleeves up, and he still felt like he needed to escape from something meant anything. “These events aren’t really my style.” Not a lie. “What about you? shouldn't you be charming the guest down there instead of acting like you're on patrol duty?”

“Ah, well...” Clover took his eyes off him a bit too quickly. And it took Qrow one more second for him to realize he had just used the word charming to describe his ways. “You can only put up polite smiles for so long before you need a break. And it's not like there's a lot to do…” He drummed his fingers on the marble for a moment before continuing, “I'm not much of a dancer.”

“Really?” He raised an eyebrow, sending him a sideways glance. He could honestly imagine him as being a guy who would sweep people off their feet on a dance floor…

“Yeah.” Clover let out a bashful chuckle. “Good luck can get me to not trip on anyone's foot, but it doesn't make me good at it.”

“Well, that's hard to believe.” He scoffed.

“Why?” Clover gave him a lopsided grin. “Want me to prove it to you?”

“Hm, what.” He snapped his head back to his direction, Clover stepped away from the railing.

"C'mon, we don't need to go on the dance floor though, it would be a disaster." He chuckled as he took his arm in a swift gesture, turning him away from the snowy landscape beyond the balcony. And Qrow followed without a word, without thinking, without resistance, just blinking as he was led towards the middle of the open space.

The music was still muffled by how far they were from the actual ballroom, and the sudden thudding inside his ears didn't help. They stopped in the center of the balcony, only a few feet apart, Clover switched the grip he had on his wrist for an offered open palm, and he waited.

Only when he started to look unsure because of his lack of response, Qrow's brain decided to respond - after all, it was pretty rare to see the lucky charm himself to act unsure about something.

Clearing his throat, he adjusted his hand over the one that had taken his arm. Clover's smile brightened up in such a way it almost caused him to choke on his works before they even came out. Still, Qrow managed to speak up. "It sounds like it will be a disaster one way or another…” He grinned with an eyebrow tilt, as if he was just exchanging playful jabber before a mission instead of being pulled close for a dance. “I don't have any luck stopping me from stepping on your feet."

"Well, you'll have to endure my terrible rhythm.” His tone was light as his laugh as Clover watched his own hand settle against Qrow’s side. Their eyes met then. “So I guess we are equal."

Equal. He said it with the same tone as his lucky you at the mines - he could tell because that single line had bounced inside his head for too long. And, of course, he ended this sentence with a wink as well.

“We’ll see about that, Lucky Charm.” He managed to splurt before it got too awkwardly late to add something to the conversation, diverting his gaze down at the same second, watching their feet so he could at least try to avoid stomping on his shoes as they tentatively started to move to the rhythm of the far-away music.

"Let's not turn this into a contest for who will do worse, okay?" He laughed lightly, and Qrow lifted his gaze up instinctively just to watch. "With my luck, I might win that one."

"Of course." Qrow rolled his eyes. And in that second, they tripped on each other's feet, the weird thing was that he wasn't sure who was the cause of it.

"Sorry." Clover scrunched his shoulders, giving his hand an apologetic squeeze.

"It's alright." He brushed it off with a lazy shrug. Just some time ago, he would have said something like it wasn't your fault, or any other comment about his semblance instead. But he knew his dance partner would probably lecture him if he did that, so he just let it slide - they were both not perfect dancers, so it happens.

"Let's just try again then." They tried to match the rhythm of the waltz one more time. He was warm, Qrow noted. Or he was the one too cold from his time outside enjoying the Atlas icy wind. The contrast was jarring nonetheless, there was still an inch of space between their bodies but he could more than well feel the heat coming from the proximity - the touch he had on Clover's shoulder and palm might as well be burning.

Every time he took his eyes off their feet there was some kind of misstep, followed by apologizing chuckles and quiet affirmations about them being okay. He had imagined Clover being the type of person to charm people away on the dance floor, yes, but he hasn't actually considered he would do that with him. Well… he had, because he was the one imagining those kinds of things in the first place, but he didn't take it seriously! And he would have never guessed clumsy waltzing and sheepishly smiles as being part of his routine.

But here they were, not even on a dance floor but in an empty balcony just for themselves instead, taking overly careful steps while completely ignoring the beats of the background music, after a quick conversation that had consisted in, as his nieces would have put, a lot of gross flirting.

This was stupid. Because he had to admit those noisy brats were right. He couldn't deny anymore that that had been flirting. He couldn't pretend to not notice Clover's attempts to be closer. He couldn't just not say there was some real interest in there.

Especially with how he could feel Clover’s eyes locked on his face as they danced. He didn't know why he had been so hesitant from looking up from their shoes to meet them - they were adults for gods' sake! He was sure he was acting like a teenager right now.

Yet they were doing a slightly better job at keeping up with the music, until the point when it picked up as it arrived close to its end. Their steps became wider, and he was sure he was about to cause them both to fall when Clover decided to be risky and pulled him along for a swift spin.

He only noticed he had been holding his breath and had his eyes wide when they resumed to slow and steady side to side steps as the final and calmer seconds of waltz reached his ears.

"Looks like we're doing pretty good." Clover tilted his head knowingly, and Qrow finally relaxed and looked back at him.

He opened his mouth to respond, just to immediately trip on air and step on the edge of his shoe, making his leg bent in a weird way and bringing him down, exactly on the final note of the music.

He held back a curse as Clover held him in place, letting go of his hands to hold him by the waist with both his arms, pulling him closer and pressing their chests together as Qrow's hands instinctively acted to get a firmer grip, lacing themselves around his shoulders. The music in the ballroom faintly continued its endless loop. He let out a huff. "What were you saying?"

Clover dared to chuckle, and now they were too close, being able to watch the way his eyes curved with his smile and feel the puffs of air from his breathing. "I still think it went well."

"Hm, I didn't know stepping on feet and falling were part of a good dance now." His voice came out raspy and he had to clear his throat. They relaxed their position a bit, allowing Qrow to fully recover his footing, yet neither of them made a move to restore the previous distance they had between them. Clover’s arms were still around his waist and Qrow maintained his own around his shoulders, as if they had done this numerous times before.

"You know… I prefer that over any boring dance I just managed to go through it because of luck." Clover started, pausing for a second to run his tongue over his lips. “I had fun… with you. Can’t remember the last time I felt that way.”

Qrow let the single note escape after a moment of silence. “Oh.”

He had nothing else to say, because the implications from Clover’s words weren’t lost by him. He preferred a waltz full of missteps over a perfect one, he preferred to be with him.

“I… I had fun too.” He didn’t like how quiet he had sounded, so Qrow let go of a breath, letting out a chuckle before continuing. “Can’t remember the last time someone endured a full dance with me.”

“That’s a shame… You’re a good dancer, Qrow.”

“You have some messed up standards.” He had to hold back an incredulous laugh. “But, hm- Thanks, for all that.”

He had expected Clover to smile at his words, but not the way he had beamed, brightening up the entire balcony and making his heart skip a beat.

“Hm, what?” He was definitely not used to people staring at him like that, or holding him like that, or talking at him like that - just being with him like that. Gods, how long they had been flirting while hugging?

“You’re not dodging compliments anymore...” Clover’s words came out in a quiet breath, his eyes flickering all over his face.

“Ah.” He swallowed dry, he hadn’t even noticed… “Well- I guess... I know I would be up for a lecture if I did, so… yeah.”

“Good.” Clover’s smile was too close to a smirk now. “Because that means I can do that more often.”

Qrow just blinked, squinting at the smug, too confident, handsome bastard he had his arms around. He opened his mouth to speak. Nothing. Tried again right after, success. “... Why are you like this?”

“Like what?” He diverted his eyes for a second, Qrow could see he was holding back a bigger smile.

“You know-” He could feel his face burning.

“I don’t.”

“Clover...” It almost came out as a hiss.

“Qrow.” He bit his lip to contain a laugh.

“For gods’ sake- Just...” He let out a growl of frustration, bringing a hand to rub over his eyes with his thumb and forefinger.

“Yes?” Clover was having fun by seeing him get flustered, he could tell that very well.

“Just-” Stop? Keep going? What could he want?

What do I want?

He had the answer to that.

Taking his hand off his own burning face, he returned it to the back of Clover’s shoulder, sent a last challenging stare at the green eyes that shined a bit too mischievously for his liking, before closing his own, and pulling him in.

Clover kissed him back. Without even a split second of hesitation, not even giving a chance for Qrow to second guess his decision. And even if he knew that was probably the most probable outcome considering Clover's actions, it still blew his mind in the best way possible. It started just as clumsy as their dance. Maybe because he wasn't used to kissing someone who was smiling so much. What was the last time he did that anyway? What was the last time he was sober for it?

He only wondered that for less than a second, because that wasn't the time for it. And he didn't care. He was warm, Qrow noted. And he also sighed against his lips, and pulled him even closer, and breathed him in and tasted like mint and pineapples, he recognized the taste from the non-alcoholic beverages they had served downstairs.

They only pulled away when breathing became extremely necessary. Qrow kept his eyes shut for some lingering moments, he would think he was dreaming if he couldn't feel the warm puffs of air hitting his skin as Clover recovered his breathing.

And when he did open his eyes, he was rewarded by Clover's own staring back at him, with that softness that had taken him a good while to get used to, and now he didn't want to live without it.

"So, hm- another dance?" Qrow blurted. Because he didn't know what else to say in moments like these. Yet what he did know, is that he didn't want it to end.

Clover let out a quiet laugh, resting his forehead on his, the sound light and lively, just like the stare he had on him. "Thought you would never ask."

They got better as they went, there were still some missteps here and there. Yet, they paid no mind. That was what made their dances perfect, and they wouldn't have it any other way.

***

Hope you liked it! I might actually post this on ao3 later after I have more time to do some revising without having to worry about the deadline lol. So if while reading you found some awkward sentences, feel free to let me know! English is not my first language so it helps a ton! :D

#fair game #fairgameweek2020 #clover ebi #qrow branwen #rwby #my art #fics #my fics #sometimes i forget that im technically also a writer #bc it still feels too unreal lsdgj #i can type words and turn into a coherent story and people might like it? *screams*#still pretty happy with this for a first real try at fg

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sanshineaus · 4 years

Text

it was acceptable in the 80s

MARK LEE 80s AU

warnings: none

type: bulletpoint au, fluff

word count: 2383

a/n: first post! i just hope you enjoy :D

mark is just a regular coffee shop worker by day; a polite boy who serves clumsy smiles and a small cookie with each black coffee.

and he’s not remarkable in the slightest, really.

he’s lost to his sea of coworkers, all equally polite and eager.

mark’s fresh out of college, really. he majored in music, much to his parents’ chagrin, and to his own dismay could only land a job in said coffee shop.

but by night, mark spends hours practicing bass in a shed he rented with his ‘bandmates’, yuta and johnny.

they’re not so much a band because of how rare it is they’re together to practice a song, even if they write separately often and manage to harmonise their thoughts well.

sometimes, he feels as if it’s not worth it; yuta is constantly busy trying to finish his master’s, and johnny makes mark laugh way too much when he’s not practicing solo because his long limbs just seem to always be in the way.

but mark’s persistent. his bass playing is amazing (despite his insecurity in it, the practice is most definitely not for nothing) and his vocals are getting better too.

however, those pesky vocals just don’t make for a very compelling rock band, which is undoubtedly their sound.

they did book a bunch of gigs last summer, ‘83. it was pleasant environments, bars that needed a performer and a niche for a night. none of them minded, but not because they needed gigs. it was simply nice to play, and have people come up on stage to try their best at aiding them in singing when they figured out that johnny wasn’t quite exactly too good a vocalist either.

mark even had a great companionship going with a bar owner, taeil.

either way, mark still lives with his parents- his gigs only paid so much, and he instead helped around the house and worked his quaint little coffee shop job to aid as much as he could.

his parents absolutely nag his ear off lmAOO

mark’s fine with living like this. he doesn’t really brood often unless it’s when he’s sitting in the rented shed.

enough about his musically inclined nature though.

you’re absolutely not a regular in the coffee shop. matter of fact, you have no clue where it is.

or that it even exists, really.

you’re just a chill person, absolutely vibing! and you’ve pierced your ear three times, your sister almost fainted when she saw you.

you ride a motorbike, too.

and you honestly might look a bit intimidating with your permed hair and black collared jacket with red stripes running down your left sleeve.

and suuure, a grandmother on the street has told you that you might end up in hell, and you said ‘alright’ and just left.

but you’re a very sweet person.

and you know what? it’s summer ‘84! and it feels as if there’s a change in the air and you get to live in a new way.

but a new way isn’t what you’re used to, and so your first late june visit is a bar with a couple of your other buddies.

you all park your motorbikes outside, and one of your friends points out that the bar seems unusually full.

and sure, it’s a pretty famous bar in your town, but? not to the degree it’s currently packing.

there’s permed, layered hair everywhere, colourful two pieces, matching and annoyingly vibrant tracksuits.

you’d run your hand through your hair had it not been meticulously hairsprayed twenty minutes prior.

the first unusual thing as you approach the counter is that there’s a stage set up to the left of you.

so you order a drink and crane your body towards it.

idly sipping, you’re met with two guys setting something up on it.

an amplifier and a mic stand, and someone’s impossibly tall back in attire suspiciously similar to yours.

the dude facing you is also dressed in mostly blacks and leathers, but with an obnoxious neon green shirt. he’s handsome, too!

his cheekbones are so very high, and his eyes seem so innocent.

he’s really cute!

it takes them about ten minutes to set everything up, and by the time you and your friends are all done with your drinks, the cute guy’s mic tapping catches the attention of the buzzing bar.

“good evening, we’re nct. let’s have a fun time?” he says with an equally cute grin and he seems so proud of himself for simply introducing the band.

he looks back to the tall guy, and the new addition of a strawberry blond, before they begin playing a familiar song.

the reflex by duran duran fills in for the chatter and people are overjoyed.

even the boys seem to be enjoying themselves immensely, they’re performing with a vigour you can’t quite explain.

and damn do bassists hit different.

they play a couple more songs spanning from 78 to now, and even sprinkle in some original songs.

apart from one song, you felt yourself throughout all of the performance.

around what you think might’ve been 11:30, they decided to bring patrons of the bar onto the stage.

it was then that you realised your town truly lacks the talent these three boys had.

and your friend nudges you.

“go on on for the next song.”

and you’ve had a couple drinks already. there is most definitely courage from everywhere, so when the strawberry blond asks if there’s any takers for crimson and clover, you stand up and make your way to the mic as swiftly as possible.

and holy hell do you belt your little heart out.

crimson and clover might just stay an evergreen.

the band plays behind you naturally- and you feel very comfortable. but the song ends and you decide that maybe someone else should have the opportunity to get applauded like you just had.

the rest of your night is going great, even though your group of friends thins and you stay with a much closer circle until 3am, when they finally stop playing.

you know you just have to talk to the cute guy, or you’ll end up suffering long time bassist longing.

and so you stand up while the bar begins to empty out.

it’s very unprofessional how the owner has the bartender be the one to hand the three boys cash.

but you mingle in between the parties easily, offering to help the guys carry their equipment.

to which the strawberry blond one smirks and gives you a considerably heavy box, where they most likely stashed the amplifier.

“i’m yuta. this is mark, and that’s john.”

“johnny’s fine.”

“just john.”

you giggle at this, but you help them to their car.

the breeze of the night air is very refreshing as you place the heavy box into the open trunk of a benz w210.

once johnny closes the trunk, he’s the first to pull yuta into the backseat and help himself to the driver’s, sending you a smile.

and mark seems very uncomfortable while standing next to you.

“uhh...”

what a riveting conversation.

you lean on the trunk, hoping johnny wouldn’t mind, and you send mark a reassuring smile.

“you play real nice, you know?” you begin, and his sheepish little smile is enough to send a puppy running for its cuteness title.

he thanks you quietly with a slight bow of his head, sucking in a breath of air right after while scratching the back of his neck.

and you take in a breath of your own before simply asking, “can i see you again some time?”

at this, he seems to lighten up with confusion.

but he nods eagerly. and 4am just seems a bit less cold.

mark takes out a visit card from his jacket pocket, and basically places it in your hands before slumming on about having to get into the car before johnny kills him.

and before you know you’re in a stupor in a parking lot, smiling ear to ear while a friend of yours snickers from the entrance of the bar.

you walk home with your bike in tow, which takes you until 5:15. you simply don’t feel stable enough to drive, and your eyes might as well close with how much you’re smiling.

imagine your surprise when you’re finally home, in bed, and you look at the card only to realise it leads to a cafe and not to a smiling funny band boy.

but by the time you’re actually in bed, you’ve had to shower, take off your makeup, take the hair gel out, and so on, so it’s way too late (or... early?) to think about it.

you drift off to sleep until 1pm, and you’re woken up groggy and confused. the visit card sits at your bedside table still, though.

so you get ready, and you don on your usual attire and favourite jacket to go along.

it’s a great day outside, and very, very warm compared to the morning.

you check the card again and on the back of it is a small, monochrome map of a part of town you never really quite drove through.

(the speed limit was too just small)

it takes you a very short time to actually get there but the parking is hellish; the streets are bustling and although that’d be fun if you were on foot, it notably is not.

however when you finally walk into the cafe, you’re greeted by many a people chatting, the atmosphere groovy and the jukebox in a corner reminiscent of the 50′s playing today’s tunes.

the chairs are pink and green, the tables annoyingly checkered and covered with see through cloth.

and behind the counter sit two people.

it’s where you head first, and you order a drink, the worker’s certainly aiding the pleasant atmosphere.

you slip a question of “does someone named mark work here?” to the two people, to which one of them nods.

“i’ll fetch him for you.”

you situate yourself on a free table right across the counter, gazing at the vinyls and pictures lining the walls.

suddenly, mark’s standing near it with your cup in hand and a small plate with an even smaller cookie on it.

his smile is still adorable.

meanwhile, mark is trying to keep calm behind said expression.

he found you exceptionally attractive- and when you offered to help him and the boys, he completely felt himself soar to new heights.

you had an aura which made mark feel renewed, in a sense, and his shift just got ten times better.

your visit to the cafe didn’t go unrewarded, really.

because it’s the way you acquire his number, and you get to call him each night from the house phone.

he’s sometimes unavailable- and you get a certain amount of fear when it’s his mum that picks up the phone.

really, the woman’s very sweet, but you can just tell she’s growing annoyed by her son’s consistent talking to you (not to mention he must be hogging the phone, as last time you checked it was 12 when you started the call and 3 when you ended it).

it develops quickly; you just... click. and soon you’re visiting him in the cafe.

showing him how to ride your bike while he grips your waist in fear at the sheer speed of the custom thing.

watching him play in bars.

gradually coming to watch him in the rented shed.

it’s one night that you two are sitting together in the shed, his hand lazily wrapped around your shoulder and playing with your fringe, while he attempts to strum his bass. you laugh at a dumb joke he says.

and then you realise- he’s still very cute. even from the downside angle you’re looking at him from.

so you lean up to press a kiss to his cheek- something he’s become used to you doing- before asking if he wants to officiate it.

mark blushes first, and the red really suits him. maybe you’ll try and convince him to put some of your makeup on him, just to see.

but then he nods, and sits up only to kiss you.

from then on, not much changes; you’d already established a comfortable, flirty relationship, and you’ve developed crushes from the day you’ve met.

but a romance with mark, and for real, is fresh each day.

be it him taking you to the arcade, or him showing up to your house to ask you to help pierce him, or design a tattoo with him.

or be it him dedicating you a song, which he plays the night after much to the dismay of johnny and yuta, who are already tired of the constant love songs.

mark is just a comfort- he feels like what sweet tastes.

you even get invited to sing with them a couple times. it’s all good fun, really, but you stop once the boys get their first actual offer.

a label, which wants to sign them, sponsor them, and within a year they have a concert in your hometown and a record.

you couldn’t be prouder when they truly achieve such a status to be invited as an opening act to another, more famous group’s tour. and although you don’t tag along, and miss mark immensely, he spends most of his coin on payphones to contact you.

when he does come back, you’re overjoyed. and mark is, too.

he kisses you with such reverence and longing that you can almost feel his soul on your tongue.

but mark doesn’t stay; and soon, neither do you.

tour after tour as an opening act, it’s the summer of ‘87 that you’re truly at your happiest when nct get a tour of their own.

you and mark? continue to be happy, to flourish by each other’s side.

they say it’s within couples to fight. but your years together prove that this isn’t true, and the timid, sweet boy from a band who stole your heart and you, his burst of confidence and a ray of sun, have never once fought.

you drink, you cry, you laugh, all together and by each other’s side. as he grows in fame and maturity, you truly know:

you fell in love with the man.

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afterthelastreset · 4 years

Text

Rules Of One’s Soul Ch 7 Realizing Feelings P3

(Mak belongs to @coffincrawler )

He felt strangely numb for the rest of the day. It didn't matter how much he tried to strain a smile or look happy for Lancer's sake, he just felt....numb. Well, maybe numb wasn't the right word. He felt more like he hadn't slept in a whole year....Maybe part of that statement was true, he couldn't really remember the last time he got a good night's sleep since....Yeah. Better not dig up any old memories right now. Better focus on Jevil giving who was him a worried glance every so often. Honestly, he didn't know what the Jester used to do before he was locked up or what he would do now that he was rehired and pardoned by Lancer, but he was pretty sure hovering behind them and following the duo around the castle was taking care of royal business was not it. Rouxls was starting to become really uncomfortable with all the stares they were getting from everyone else around them, most were terrorfied with shock or confusion at seeing the crazy joker floating behind the Duke and King Lancer. Even the other kings were wary, except King Heart. He had too much of an open heart it seemed. It made him even more tired from the amount of emotions that waved through his mind, which he really shouldn't be focusing right now.Right now was the time to focus on doing as much as possible to prepare Lancer for the ten days of his absence. He's barely be able to clean up his room, let alone run an entire kingdom by himself.

But he still couldn't help but have that small voice in the back of his mind say it wouldn't be so bad. He would use some space and a nice vacation was overdue.....But he made a promise to her and himself to take care of Lancer. No matter what. Did he really trust this jester just a few days after he was sent loose? Yes, answered a silent voice ringing from the back. Not much, echoed another. He groaned again and tried to shake those feelings off. Right now he needed to focus. Focus!

He had to shake his head and refocus his skattered mind into the conversation at hand-

"- s-so anyways, to help lift our subjects spirits in this new era of reconstruction I'd thought we should open the castle more to our loving subjects," the King of Hearts brought a tentacle arm to rub at the back of his neck sheepishly.

Oh...right. Did he miss that much of the conversation? He straightened his back up and tried once again to focus his attention into this conversation, or at least what attention he had left. Lancer was sitting at the table next to him looking a mixture of bored and confused to what the adult kings were going on about, while Jevil was being awfully quiet just hovering above near the ceiling, he would've chuckled if he wasn't already trying to pay attention to something else at the moment.

"Don't you think that'll cost a whole lot?"

"There he goes again with the 'I don't like spending attitude'."

Oh, please. He really didn't want to deal with another fight between the Clubs and Rudinn right now. The two could go on for hours on end if no one stopped them. But someone must've heard his silent prayers because that wasn't what had happened. Instead the Rudinn gave the multi-headed king a look and spat out-

"No! I mean it'll cost a lot to put together something for hundreds upon hundreds of subjects and we don't even have enough to cover even a third of that amount. And don't you forget we're still trying to piece together what's left of what Spade left behind?"

"Of course I didn't forget!," one of the heads barked back, "I'm just saying you usually worry about your money problem!''

"Oh, so now I have a money problem-!"

"Gentlemen, Please! Not in front of the child." The poor Heart looked exhausted already and the meeting's only been-....Actually he lost count of how much time had passed, but the other two kings at least respected the poor hathy's words enough to not fight right now at least. Thank goodness. "Thank you." He breathed out a sigh. "Now I know we can't invite all our subjects but we should at least encourage others to celebrate one of our oldest customs."

"I'm bored-"

Rouxls hushed Lancer before giving a nervous smile back at the other 3 kings. "Children. H-He's just a bit tired-"

"But it's boooooriiing." The small spade slapped his hands onto the table and stood onto his chair. "Let's make it more exciting!"

Rouxls groaned but King Heart chuckled at the child's action and asked, "Oh, Really? Well, why don't you tell us what you think would make this event less 'boring' to you?"

Lancer paused for a moment and gave that famous confused look with his tongue stuck between his front teeth before looking back up at him. "Um.....How about food!? Food's always good."

"What kind then?"

It was clear that by the smile on the giant hathy that he was enjoying asking the little child what he thought about this. It was kinda cute to watch in all honesty, but the little boy didn't see it that way as he beamed at the notion of being asked his own ideas.

"We need to...How did Susie say it was-..Make it POP! We need something fun like-...Like...Uh..."

Rouxls leaned next to him. "How doth fireworks sound?"

His face lit up immediately. "Yeah! Fireworks sound awesome! Oh, oh. And lots and lots of food and music! I can play splat noises from my ipod!"

"Young, Sire. I thinketh thine noises wouldn't be appropriate for a romantic evening for a mostly adult audience." Lancer gave a small pout which made the Duke roll his eyes. "We can invite thou's friends if you oh so wish."

''....But I don't know where Susie and Kris live....But Ralsei practically lives next door!"

"Well, since thou has made up his mind, we shouldst really focus on the topic of the dungeon conditions-"

"Now what a second," the Rudinn king leaned across the table and gave a look, "We still need to discuss the budget of this whole thing-" One of King Clubs's heads groaned while the others gave various looks from confusion to 'I'm so done', Making Diamond give a hiss back. "Not like that! I mean, our funds are limited towards rebuilding and our subjects as it is. How are we going to fund all this food and fireworks?"

"...We could make it a potluck charity ball?," the Heart meeakly suggested, "We could have everyone bring a dish and donate a miniture wage?"

"That's a brilliant idea!" "Hey! I would've thought of that too!" "You wish!" Honestly, can his heads ever agree on something?

"Now that is out of the way, doth I may request that we-"

"Can we have a chocolate fountain?!" Lancer's voice suddenly skyrocketed in new excitement. "And cake and...and ...and whatever that noodle dish is called?!"

The heart chuckled. "If someone brings it, sure."

Lancer gave a babble of delight before turning to Rouxls, "I gotta go tell the cooks! And have someone go tell Ralsei! This is gonna be the best mushy party ever! HO HO HO!! "

"What!? Lancer wait-" The small spade didn't give another thought as he jumped down from his chair and pushed past his legs. He once again tried to call out to the excited child to stop him but the small spade excitedly bounced his way out the door doing his tiny impression of a Santa Claus. The worm sighed and reached up a hand to rub his face. He really didn't have the energy to keep up with a child like this.

"Well, I guess this meeting is over." "Good! I want to see Clover! Right now!" "I'm pretty sure she's asleep by now?"

The other three kings mumble among themselves and stood up from the large table. Looks like he wasn't going to get to actually talk about security today.

"Tired, tired you look." He didn't look up from his hand as Jevil casually floated next to him, giving him a questioning look. "Why not, not just turn in?"

"I'm still angry at thou's antics," he slowly turned from his hand to give the imp a tired disgruntled look, raising a brow, "And I will do no such thing until mine king sleeps, and he's nay asleep or tired."

Jevil hummed and nodded in agreement with his statement. "Understandable, understandable-...But he's a king now, he can handle a little nap time." This made Rouxls raise his brow higher as if to say, 'Art thou serious?' and Jevil giggled at the reaction. "I'm more than capable of putting, putting the younge child to bed and spinning a tale good enough to impress, impress the sandman himself.~"

"Thou? Put Lancer to sleep? Bah!" The tired worm stood up on tired legs, giving the gremlin a frown. "I shan't heareth it! Mine boy is-"

"Growing up, up and needs to learn how to be king without the interference of a mother hen." He tutted and shook his head at the worm's constant worrying again, "I do hope you do not act, act like that when our children are brought into our world.~ It'd be a bad influence on the poor child.~"

The worm's face went from a comical expression of confused, to utter shock, to a deep purple. He seemed to go blank for a moment and just gave out a few angry sputters at the jester's innocent smile before he just turned around dramatically-...Which did nothing but set off another series of giggles, and in a moment worthy of his title, the Duke gave off a flustered growl and stomped his way out of the room..Too bad the laughing imp followed right behind him, telling him "R-Rouxls, Rouxls. D-Don't do that. Just think about all the cute little memories, memories we'd make."

"N-NAY! I don't need this! I-I shan't hear of it!" He sped up his long strides towards where he suspected Lancer had bounced off too, too bad Jevil was able to keep up easily. "L-Leave me you...you ghastly worm! I'm too tired to dealest with this."

"Rouxls. I'm sorry, sorry. But please let me see your blueberry face.~"

"Nay!"

A couple others had stopped and took a look at the strange duo walking past, giving them strange looks. Honestly looked more like an old married couple than a royal Duke being trailed by a Jester. And to be honest Rouxls didn't like what must have been going through their heads at this point, seeing the crazed jester float around him giggling and following like a lost love struck puppy and how blue his face must've been at the moment didn't help his cause either. A force sudden made itself known on his head and two arms snaked their way around his neck. A purr sounded out as something snuggled into the shiny hair on his head, he ended up freezing and turned his eyes upwards towards the imp nuzzling into him. Jevil sighed and purred out some mumbled about him being 'cool and soft to the touch.' His normally cool face heated up a purple hue and he let out a small squeak. Jevil giggled hearing that and laid his head flat against the top of Rouxls's head. What followed was another weird noise from Rouxls before the worm man waved his arms up and above his head in a sort of flailing like motion startling the jester and whoever was left watching. The worm whirled around and gave the startled jester a flustered look, Jevil gave a startled look back and blinked.

"...T-Thou needst t-to calmeth thineself down."

"Oh....Why? Do you not like, like physical affection?"

"I...I..." His eyes went around to the few surrounding watchers and gulped. "N-N-Nay in public."

Jevil continued to stare at the flustered worm before a realization came over him. "Oh, I see. Bwahaha. Keep things, things professional at work. I understamd, understand perfectly." He let off another purr before giving those same pink eyes from earlier this morning with the pink hearts. "More on the professional, professional when needed. Perfectly understandable. We have, have a whole ten days to make up for it.~"

The tone he used plus the wink he gave after sent a shiver up Rouxls spine plus a throb from his soul. He decided to cut losses and just turn and leave to go find Lancer. Not surprisingly Jevil wasn't too far behind. Like he suspected, he eventually found Lancer stuffing his face with leftover food in the kitchen, making a mess. The child looked tired though. Hopefully enough to go to bed. It took Rouxls a while to convince the spade stuffing his face that he should head to bed, but luckily Lancer was complient and agreed to his bedtime. Now all that was left to do was deal with the purple stalker he had on his tail. He just wanted to go back home and sleep already. He made it about halfway down the hall from Lancer's room before a clawed hand grabbed onto his shoulder and the smiling face of Jevil came into view.

"Let me take, take you back."

"N-No thank you....I'm more than capable of going home."

"In the rain?" He pointed his other hand towards the window near them where rain could still be seen pouring down. "You still look tired,tired. Allow me to help, help."

"N-No-"

"I know you're too exhausted, exhausted to work magic right now." Rouxls froze but eventually gave off a sigh to Jevil's happiness.

"Fine. B-But only once-"

No sooner had he said that than Jevil suddenly shot his hand out and grabbed his, making him flinch and look at the smiling purple face. Jevil gave off a series of giggles as his only warning before the room around them suddenly darkened and a compression feeling squeezed his chest. He clamped his eyes shut at sensation of the air being forced out of his lungs and his body being stretched out like some rubber toy, it was quite the uncomfortable feeling to be honest. Would not recommend traveling like this. His way of teleporting was a lot more peaceful, all it took was a few ideal moments of senseless non-motion and then some sparkling light. Not this compressed madness. None the less, it all ended almost as soon as it began when he suddenly was slapped back down onto his feet. His body stumbled and nearly fell over but Jevil still had a hold of his hand and quickly pulled Rouxls back up into a standing coughing fit of a man. His vision swirled and his lungs felt like they were underwater as he sputtered and forced himself to gulp down oxygen into his poor body. Jevil patted his back and continued to sorta encourage Rouxls, strange but appreciated. When he was finally able to blink past the blurred scenes, he was able to make out a table of some kind he was leaning against. Dust covered the top and when he slowly removed his hand it left a print...Oh. That'll explain the excess couching and fire burning in his lungs. Jevil's teleportation must've made some of the dust fly into the air when they popped in.

"I don't suppose you two are done for the day?", a soft voice called out a little ways from them. Their sudden pop in had startled the cat, but he quickly calmed down once he recognized the two. Rouxls's looked over at the cat sitting on the bed, a book in his paws. The worm rose a brow and gave Seam a look.

"W-Was...Was thou sitting here reading all day?"

Seam chuckled before closing the book and setting it on the bed before standing up. "Only since you all left me stranded here seven hours ago. I'm afraid I'm not too fond of going home in the rain. But I do enjoy the peace and quiet of reading while listening to the rain outside." He gestured to the store window and the water running down it.

Rouxls gave a groan and straightened himself up. "Well thou can now leaveth with thine gremlin over here-" he nodded towards Jevil '' -without the worries of getting rained upon."

"Oh, come now. Come now." Jevil's face popped back up to his side vision. "It's your time to relax-"

"Which would be when I'm sleeping without disturbance from thou."

".....Oh. Right. You do need, need to recover from no-sleepitis.~"

Seam rose an eyebrow and gave Jevil a curious look. "No-sleepitis?...Aha..Hahaha. I'm pretty sure that's called insomnia Jevil."

The imp shrugged and giggled a bit more. "All it took was just a little, little child encouragement and common sense to the rules.~"

Rouxls gave a grunt and pushed Jevil's face away from his own. "I think thou shouldst leave now, it's getting rather late as it is."

"Aw. No fun, no fun.~"

"Come on now, Jevil. We should respect the Duke's sleeping condition."

Surprisingly Jevil listened to the old cat and floated over towards him, but not before giving the worm another purr and wink. Rouxls scrunched his face up but his face flushed a blue again. He really wished it would stop that. Seam held out his paw to the floating Jevil who took it without question, Seam took one last look back at Rouxls and gave a small wave before his shape was suddenly whipped. Literally. His form whipped back along with Jevil and in an instant, the two weirdos vanished without sound. Rouxls stood there blinking for the next couple seconds at where the two used to stand, before shaking his head and turning his back towards the area where they were. He just needed to lay down and have a small moment to himself for a while....And try to sort out all these thoughts and emotions zig zagging over one another in his head.

Seam on the other hand was quite adiment on giving the poor duke some alone time away from Jevil's constant affection. The poor guy looked tired enough, though Seam wasn't quite sure what Jevil meant by 'common sense of rules' or 'child encouragement'. The teleportation to his own Sheap was a matter of seconds away, and while Rouxls obviously wasn't used to the sudden teleporting Seam after years of Jevil using the spell, he was quite used to the effects so all he ended up with was a small stumble upon landing. He turned to the small jester after a few moments of regaining himself and opened his mouth to ask about what happened, when the fool suddenly doubled over giggling and hugging his sides.

"Well...You seem happy. Care to include an old friend on what you mean?"

"Seam, Seam! My opportunity, opportunity has sprung! My soul, soul beats hard for my heart's desire, desire!" He giggled more which in turn caused the cat to tilt in held in question. "You see,you see! My desire has told me he shares the same emotions my soul, soul has for him, him! It's absolute chaos, chaos!" The imp fell back in a flourish of squeals and giggles that Seam couldn't help but smile at.

"Really now? Well, it sounds like you too have made a real connection. But you should keep it down before you wake Mak. It takes forever to get a child to sleep."

"Hahaha. Agreed, Agreed."

Seam smiled before walking his way over to the couch. "Now...I don't suppose you mind filling me in on what happened while you were away do you?"

Jevil smiled in glee. "Seam, Seam. I have a tale, tale to spin to you."

#Seaxls #rouxls kaard x seam #Seam #seam x jevil #jevil x seam #jevil x rouxls #Nosuit #rouxvil #rouxlvil #Rouxls Kaard #jevil #deltarune

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