#//Im tag diving since work is slow

[dutybcrne]

I like to think Dainsleif and Kaeya hooked up precisely ONCE bc Kae proposed it as a means of stress relief for them both after the fucken Revelation the man had given him and Dain only agreed Just This Once bc why tf not, if anyone can handle the Abyss energy plaguing him AND be less likely to run into him in near future, it ls Kae.

And then just mutually agreeing to never speak of it again. Unless-

[chicgeekgirl89]

Rating: T Characters: Carlos Reyes and T.K. Strand Summary: In the early days of their budding relationship, T.K. and Carlos discover some of each other's more adorable characteristics. Or, five times T.K. learns adorable things about Carlos and one time Carlos learns something adorable about T.K. A/N: Thanks to @bluenet13 for the title help on this one. It's been on the back burner for a while and it was time for it to fly free. Also working on a reverse 5+1 companion for it, so keep your eyes open for that...someday... Tagging: This is more than seven sentences, but please accept it anyway. Thanks to @strandnreyes, @bonheur-cafe, @carlos-in-glasses, @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut, @ladytessa74, and @lemonlyman-dotcom. Tagging @liminalmemories21, @welcometololaland, @carlos-tk, @louis-ii-reyes-strand, @im-overstimulated-and-im-sad, and anyone else who would like to share your Seven Sentence Sunday! Read on AO3

Glasses

T.K. is brushing his teeth in Carlos’ bathroom. Usually his daily oral hygiene wouldn’t be a notable event, but today it feels monumental. Because it’s Carlos’ bathroom. And T.K. is brushing his teeth. Because he’s staying over. Because they’re together. Like really together. Officially. 

He smiles goofily at his reflection in the mirror, his mouth still full of white paste and toothbrush. He’s happy. Really, truly, deeply happy.

He opens up Carlos’ medicine cabinet one handed as he continues brushing away and realizes that while he remembered to bring a razor he did not remember to bring shaving cream. “Hey babe,” he calls around his mouthful as he turns around and pokes his head back into the bedroom, “can I borrow—“

His eyes find Carlos on the bed and he immediately chokes on his toothpaste and has to rush back to the sink to spit it out. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before turning and marching back through the open doorway. 

Carlos looks at him, amusement on his face. “You okay over there?”

“Since when do you wear glasses?”

Because he is. Carlos is sitting in his bed, shirtless, hair soft and wildly curly after his shower, a paperback in his hands, and a pair of glasses on his face. Glasses that T.K. has definitely never seen before in his life. Glasses that are kind of knocking the wind out of him.

“Since the fourth grade?” Carlos says. 

“But I’ve never…you’ve never worn them when I’ve been here.”

“I haven’t?” Carlos scrunches up his nose in thought and it makes him even more freaking adorable. “Are you sure?”

“I think I would remember my boyfriend morphing into Clark fucking Kent,” T.K. retorts.

Carlos chuckles. “I only wear them at night when my contacts start bothering me.”

“You should wear them more often.” The words are out of T.K.’s mouth before he even realizes it. He feels wildly out of control of himself right now and who could blame him? His already incredibly fucking hot boyfriend now looks like an incredibly fucking hot librarian and it is making T.K. think some very, VERY dirty thoughts.

Carlos raises his eyebrows. “Why?” A slow, lazy, self-satisfied smile spreads across his  face. “You think they’re sexy?”

“God yes.”

T.K. is across the room in two seconds flat, scrambling onto the bed and pulling Carlos’ face to his for a bruising kiss. Carlos immediately drops his book and responds in kind, mouth open and inviting as his hands grip T.K.’s hips and pull him close. “You called me your boyfriend,” he says when they finally break apart for air.

“I did,” T.K. says, diving back in for another taste of Carlos in glasses. It’s completely different than regular Carlos. It’s nerdy. And hot. He loves it.

“You’ve never called me your boyfriend before,” Carlos says breathlessly, grinning so wide it’s like the sun has come out. “I like it.”

T.K. grins back at him. “Me too.”

Socks

“Oh my god,” Carlos says as T.K. collapses onto his chest and presses kisses into his sweat sticky skin. “How does it just keep getting better?”

“Because we’re amazing,” T.K. mumbles against his pecs, his eyes already heavy with sleep. “So. Freaking. Amazing.”

He takes a few breaths and feels his body relaxing as sleep pulls him down. He snuggles deeper into Carlos’ chest, eyes drifting shut. He’s nearly out when he feels Carlos shift beneath him.

“Where are you going?” he asks, tightening his hold on Carlos’ torso to keep him from moving.

“I’ll be right back. I just need to put some socks on,” Carlos says, pressing a kiss to his hair. 

T.K.’s eyes pop back open and he props himself up to look at Carlos’ face. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I’m going to put some socks on,” Carlos repeats.

Things still aren’t computing in T.K.’s brain. “…why?” he finally asks slowly.

“Because if we’re going to sleep I need to wear socks.”

He was looking for clarity, but now he’s even more confused. “I don’t understand.”

“What is there to understand? I’m putting socks on to go to bed,” Carlos says, looking equally as confused.

“But…why?”

“Because otherwise I might catch a cold,” Carlos says with a laugh, gently pushing T.K. off so he can get to his feet.

T.K. blinks a couple times trying to get his bearings and then rolls over, sitting up with the sheet wrapped around his waist. “That is not how colds work. Like not even close.”

Carlos returns and sits on the bed to pull his socks on. “I know that,” he says.

“And yet you’re still putting the socks on,” T.K. says.

“My mom always made us wear socks to bed when we were kids.”

“Is she coming over?” T.K. asks incredulously.

“No.”

“Then why are you wearing them?!”

“Because she always made us!”

T.K. takes a breath. “Let me get this straight. You are going to get into this bed with me, fully naked, except for socks that you’re going to wear because your mom made you do it when you were seven?”

Carlos pauses. “Well when you say it like that it sounds stupid.”

“Your words, not mine.”

“I just like it okay? I’ve done it forever. I can’t sleep without them,” Carlos says defensively as he slides back into bed beside T.K. “Is this some kind of a dealbreaker for you?”

“Nope,” T.K. says. “Just trying to understand. If wearing socks to bed is what does it for you, then by all means wear the socks.”

“Thank you,” Carlos says, giving him a peck on the lips and turning out the light before pulling T.K. close and snuggling in to go to sleep.

T.K. gets comfortable and closes his eyes, but he can’t stop the thoughts running through his mind in the dark and quiet of the room. He sits up and turns the light back on. “I really need you to tell me that you understand that you can’t catch a cold from not wearing socks though.”

Romance

T.K. loves being in Carlos’ condo without him. He likes it better when Carlos is around obviously. But he feels so special that Carlos has given him a key and invited him to share his space. It means he trusts T.K. enough to let him be here alone where it’s peaceful and calm, unlike his dad’s house which somehow feels crowded even though there are only two of them there most of the time.

Carlos’ place feels more like home than anywhere else has in a long time.

He takes his shoes off when he arrives and dutifully puts them away, then grabs a mineral water and a yogurt out of the fridge before collapsing onto Carlos’ couch. “Ouch,” he says with a frown as something pokes into his back from behind the throw pillow.

He reaches behind him and pulls out a book. It’s not unusual to find books around the condo, Carlos is a big reader, but the brightly colored cover on this one makes T.K. pause and raise his eyebrows. The Spanish Love Deception is the title and when he flips it over to read the back he learns that Catalina Martín is in desperate need of a date for her sister’s wedding and her mortal enemy at work seems to be her only option.

He’s rifling through the pages when the door opens and Carlos walks in. “Hey,” he says, smiling as his eyes meet T.K.’s. “When did you get in?”

“Like fifteen minutes ago,” T.K. tells him as Carlos slips off his shoes and then comes over to press a kiss to his lips. “I found this behind the throw pillow.”

He holds up the romance novel and Carlos takes it from him. “Francesca must have left it here,” he says, referring to his sister. “Looks like her kind of book. I’ll text her and let her know you found it it.”

T.K. doesn’t think about it again for a couple of weeks until one night when his dad cancels their dinner plans and he spontaneously heads to Carlos’ instead. “Hey, it’s me!” he calls as he pushes the door open.

“T.K.?” Carlos appears at the top of the stairs, one hand behind his back, looking a little frazzled. “I thought you were going to dinner with your dad.”

“He bailed,” T.K. says, adjusting his overnight bag on his shoulder as he takes the stairs two at a time, giving Carlos a peck on his lips when he reaches him. “You okay?” he asks, taking in the weird expression on his boyfriend’s face.

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” Carlos says, even as a minor amount of panic is flickering through his eyes. “I just didn’t know you were coming.”

T.K. looks him up and down. “Do you have some other guy in your bedroom?”

“What?! No!” Carlos says quickly.

“Were you watching porn?”

“Of course not!” Carlos says, but there’s a deep blush rising up in his cheeks. 

“What’s behind your back?” T.K. reaches for him, but Carlos steps away out of his reach.

“It’s nothing,” he says.

T.K. raises his eyebrows in amusement. “You know you are so freaking bad at lying, right?”

“Can we just drop it?” Carlos asks, desperation creeping into his voice.

T.K. takes a step forward so that Carlos is forced to back into the wall and then reaches around him and plucks the hidden object from his fingers. It’s another book, the cover bright blue with the title The American Roommate Experiment on the front. T.K. recognizes the name of the author as the same one from the book he found behind the couch cushions and his eyebrows rise. “Oh. You were reading porn.”

“It’s not porn,” Carlos says. “It’s a book.”

“Are you telling me there’s no sex in this book?”

“I…don’t know yet,” Carlos says, dropping his eyes. “I haven’t gotten that far.”

Delight is spiraling through T.K. as he fully realizes what’s going on. “That was your book a couple weeks ago. Not your sister’s.” He can feel his eyes start to sparkle with mischief. “You like smutty romance novels.”

“I don’t like them because they’re smutty,” Carlos says quickly. “I like them because…I like them.”

“You like them because you’re a big old softy romantic,” T.K. says, poking him gently in the chest. “Do you watch Hallmark Christmas movies too?”

The silence that follows tells him all he needs to know. “You do,” T.K. says happily. He could not be more thrilled about this new discovery.

“I grew up with four sisters,” Carlos defends himself.

“Please tell me you read Fifty Shades.”

“I would never,” Carlos scoffs. “Those books are not an accurate depiction of the BDSM community.”

“Oh my god you’re adorable,” T.K. tells him. 

“No, I’m, no don’t call me that,” Carlos says, clearly embarrassed.

“You are,” T.K. tells him, wrapping his arms around Carlos’ waist. “You are the most adorable boyfriend the world has ever seen.”

“Are you going to let this go, or is this something you’re going to talk about forever?” Carlos asks.

“Mmm definitely the second thing,” T.K. says as Carlos sighs with long suffering. “Now how about you take me to your bedroom and teach me some of the things you’ve learned from these books?”

Scaredy Cat

Sharing new things with each other has become a complete delight for T.K. So when he finds out that Carlos has never seen a single one of the Halloween movies, he declares the need for a marathon during the month of October and immediately goes over to his dad’s to dig out his DVD’s. No way is he dealing with ads breaking up the masterpiece that is Michael Myers. 

He’s popped popcorn, pulled out all the throw blankets, and even gone so far as to make up a bloody looking mocktail to really get them in the spirit of the movies. Now he’s just eagerly awaiting Carlos who has gone out to fetch their pizza.

He’s pulling down plates from the cupboard (Carlos refuses to eat pizza straight out of the box like they’re “college frat bros”) when the door opens and his boyfriend returns, pizza in hand. 

“Perfect timing!” T.K. says, eagerly taking the box from him and handing him the gory looking cocktail in return. 

“Oh, wow,” Carlos says. “This is…something.”

“I found a recipe online,” T.K. tells him excitedly as he dishes out pizza slices onto plates. “I thought they would be fun!”

“So creative,” Carlos says, poking at the gummy eyeballs that T.K. ordered online and added for extra pizzazz.

“Okay,” T.K. says as they settle onto the couch, his excitement at an eleven. “So, John Carpenter and Debra Hill wrote this in like ten days, which is crazy, and Carpenter got paid ten thousand dollars to write, direct, and score it. They built a cinematic masterpiece, the go-to film for horror, and they did it in ten days for ten thousand dollars. Can you even believe that?”

“Sure can’t,” Carlos says with a shake of his head. 

“We’re starting with the original Halloween,” T.K. tells him as he flicks on the television. “1963, Michael Myers versus a bunch of teenage girls. We’ll skip a few in the middle, Halloween: Resurrection isn’t worth anybody’s time, and while Halloween: The Curse of Michael Myers does feature a young, fresh faced Paul Rudd, it has too many flaws to be worth watching.”

“So we’re skipping two out of…”

“Thirteen,” T.K. tells him.

“I guess I should have taken the month off of work,” Carlos tells him, sending him an odd, tense sort of smile.

Come to think of it, Carlos’ whole body feels a little tense too. If T.K. didn’t know any better, he’d think Carlos was nervous. But he chalks it up to worry over getting pizza grease on the couch and hits play as he snuggles into his boyfriend’s side.

They’re still snuggled together as Michael takes a knife to his teenage sister and T.K. doesn’t miss the way Carlos stiffens even further over the bloody scene. Or the way he seems to get more and more tense as the movie progresses. “You want another drink?” T.K. asks after Michael murders the Wallace’s dog.

Carlos shakes his head, his lips pressed together in a firm line, eyes a little wider than normal as he stares at the screen. He gasps audibly when Michael appears in Annie’s car and when T.K. looks down he finds that Carlos is gripping the edge of the couch cushions so hard that his knuckles are going white. 

By the time Michael starts going after Laurie, Carlos’ breathing has gone rapid and T.K. carefully slips his fingers under the edge of his sleeve to find his pulse racing. Not a surprise given the contents of the movie, but Carlos’ face has gone almost white and and he’s sitting so rigidly T.K. is afraid all of his muscles are going to lock up. 

“Carlos,” he says quietly, but Carlos doesn’t respond, eyes glued to the screen, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallows hard.

“Carlos, are you okay?” T.K. asks again, reaching for the remote.

He’s too late. Michael appears out of nowhere and Carlos jumps to his feet with a shout, hands going to his hips as he paces a couple agitated steps back and forth. 

T.K. finally gets his finger on the button to pause the movie. “Carlos, hey, look at me,” T.K. says, feeling legitimately concerned.

“No I—it’s fine. I’m fine,” Carlos says, hand making chopping motions as if he’s trying to convince himself as much as T.K. “Go ahead, turn it back on. I’ll just um, I’m just going to—“

“You’re shaking like a leaf,” T.K. says.

“No I’m—it’s good,” Carlos says even as a car honks outside and he flinches violently.

“It’s not fine,” T.K. says. “You hate it. Let’s watch something else.”

“We can finish—“

“Carlos, you look like you think Michael is coming after you personally. We’re not watching anymore,” T.K. says with a chuckle, using the remote to flip over to live TV, Bobby Flay declaring loudly that he will not be beaten at his own culinary game this time.

“Thank you,” Carlos sighs, collapsing back into the couch.

“When were you going to tell me you hate horror movies?” T.K. asks.

“Never,” Carlos says, running a hand through his hair. “You were so excited and I thought maybe it would be okay.”

“But?”

“I begged my parents to let me watch It with my sisters when I was ten. I didn’t sleep for like a month after that and ever since…” he shivers, “I just don’t get why people like them.”

“It’s pretty cute you know,” T.K. says with a fond smile. “My big tough police officer being scared of horror movies.”

“Cute or pathetic?” Carlos says with a roll of his eyes, finally starting to look like himself again now that it’s vegetables being chopped up instead of people.

“Cute,” T.K. tells him definitively, pulling him close. “Now come here. I promise I’ll keep you safe.”

Paparazzi

The radio is blaring when T.K. walks in from his shift, so loud that for a second he thinks he’s walked into the wrong condo. A quick glance around reveals that no, this is indeed Carlos’ place, although there’s no sign of Carlos anywhere, and it takes him another moment to realize the music is actually coming from upstairs.

He climbs the staircase, the music getting louder with each step and by the time he’s reached the top it’s changed from something in Spanish to Lady Gaga and is blasting so loudly that it feels like he’s at a live performance rather than in his boyfriend’s bedroom.

That’s when he finally hears the singing. Not Gaga herself, although she’s hard to ignore. No. Someone is belting out the lyrics from behind the bathroom door, slightly out of tune, but with the most passion T.K. has ever heard.

He opens the door quietly, the sound intensifying as the spray of the shower joins the fray. 

“I’M YOUR BIGGEST FAN, I’LL FOLLOW YOU UNTIL YOU LOVE ME! PAPA-PAPARAZZI!” Carlos bellows from behind the semi-frosted glass of the shower door.

T.K. crosses his arms and leans against the wall, a grin on his face as he watches the blurry silhouette of his naked boyfriend scrubbing away at his hair while he sings along. He makes it through the rest of the chorus and another verse before he turns around and lets out a yell. “Jesus Christ!”

The water turns off immediately followed quickly by the music as T.K. laughs. Carlos opens the shower door, poking his sopping wet head out. “What the hell? How long have you been standing there?” he says, clearly torn between fury and embarrassment.

“Long enough,” T.K. says, handing him a towel before returning to his position against the wall, watching appreciatively as Carlos pulls it around his waist and steps out, water glistening on his skin.

“You realize that’s really fucking creepy, right?” Carlos asks as he double checks that his towel is secure.

“I can’t believe you didn’t invite me to the concert,” T.K. says fully aware that he is smirking and enjoying every second of watching Carlos squirm.

“Yeah, well, there’s a reason for that,” Carlos says, looking down at the floor, his cheeks flushed from more than the heat of his shower.

“Do you always sing in the shower?”

“No.” But he doesn’t meet T.K.’s gaze when he says it.

“Yes,” T.K. says gleefully. “Why don’t you ever sing when I’m here?”

“Because some things are better left in private,” Carlos tells him with a glower.

“Babe, come on,” T.K. says, taking a step forward and putting his hands on Carlos’ hips just above where the towel is sitting. “I love knowing stuff like this about you. It makes me feel like you’re mine. I get to see these little parts of Carlos Reyes that other people don’t.” He quirks an eyebrow. “Unless you also put on performances in the precinct showers.”

“Definitely not,” Carlos scoffs. His hands come up to rest on T.K.’s biceps. “You really don’t think it’s weird? I know I’m not a good singer.”

T.K. kisses the tip of his nose. “It doesn’t matter. It makes you happy. And that’s all I care about.”

+ 1: Ticklish

Waking up with T.K. had been his dream for months, but he wasn’t completely surprised when it turned out not to be a reality. It turns out T.K. doesn’t wake up with anyone. In fact he barely wakes up at all. He has to be dragged out of bed and plied with coffee and a shower before he’s even remotely functional. 

When questioned about how he can wake up and immediately go to work when the alarm bells go off at the fire station, T.K. looks at him like he’s crazy and says, “That’s different.”

So Carlos contents himself with waking up beside T.K., pressing a kiss to whatever part of him is poking out from under the blankets, and then greeting him more officially when he finally stumbles out of bed usually an hour or two after Carlos.

He’s just finished his workout when he hears T.K.’s alarm going off followed quickly by a muffled thud as T.K. predictably sends his phone flying to floor in his attempts to turn it off.

Carlos smiles and wipes a towel across his forehead before stowing away his weights and jogging back upstairs. T.K. is buried under the blankets, only the top of his head poking out. “Morning,” Carlos says softly, bending over to kiss his forehead.

T.K. reaches up and catches his arm, tugging him downward. “Come back to bed,” he mumbles. 

“I’m all sweaty,” Carlos says with a laugh. “I need to go take a shower.”

“No staaay,” T.K. groans, tugging more insistently.

Carlos rolls his eyes but he concedes, sitting down on the mattress and pulling the blanket down enough to reveal T.K.’s face. “Are you going to get up?”

“It’s our day off,” T.K. tells him, eyes still tightly shut.

“It is.” Carlos leans closer, a fond smile on his face. “And if you don’t get up soon it will be over.”

He pokes T.K. in the ribs good-naturedly and immediately receives a sharp backhand across the face. “Ow!” he yells, rearing back and clutching his nose. “T.K. what the fuck?!”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” T.K. yelps, and Carlos can feel him scrambling to get upright in the tangle of their sheets. “Oh my god! Are you okay? Let me see!”

He reaches for Carlos’ face, but Carlos pulls back. His nose feels like it’s been smashed into a thousand pieces, but he rubs at it experimentally and it seems to be intact. Another check shows no blood on his fingers, so he’s probably all right, but damn. It hurts. “What the hell was that for?” he asks grouchily, sending T.K. a glare.

T.K. looks sheepishly down at the sheets. “Um, well, I might be just a little bit ticklish?”

Carlos blinks at him. “No you’re not.”

T.K.’s forehead wrinkles in confusion. “Yes I am?”

“T.K. we’ve been together for like four months. I would know if you were ticklish.” He knows T.K.’s body intimately. Where he can touch to make him moan, to make him gasp, to make him arch his back. If T.K. were ticklish, it would have been revealed long before now. 

“It’s just that one spot on the left side of my ribs,” T.K. tells him. “If your hands start to go there I just take them and move them somewhere else. You’ve never noticed?”

Huh. Carlos sits with that for a second replaying as many of their sexual encounters as he can remember. “I guess…I guess not. Why did you hit me though?” he asks with a frown.

“Ah.” T.K. blushes. “I always move your hands because I can get a little…violent when I get tickled. It’s kind of a panic response.”

“And instead of telling me this you just waited for me to discover it by accident and nearly broke my nose in the process?”

“I kind of forgot honestly. It’s just become a habit to move your hands,” T.K. tells him.

Carlos snorts out a laugh. “Oh my god.”

“Oh my god what?” T.K. asks warily.

“Oh my god…that’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” Carlos says, full on laughing now. 

T.K.’s face breaks into a smile and runs his tongue over his bottom lip. “It is kind of dumb.”

Carlos leans forward and cups his chin, pulling him in for a real kiss. “You’re cute,” he says. “You and your ridiculous ticklish spot.”

“You’re cute too,” T.K. says, then wrinkles his nose. “But you kind of stink.”

“Oh I do?”

“Yeah you do.”

Carlos wraps his arms around T.K. while he yells in protest, holding him tightly as they fall onto the mattress together. It’s disgustingly adorable. And Carlos wouldn’t trade it for the world.  

[minheeskitten]

hello my love! i’m a moot here that just kind of lurks around from time to time, i miss seeing your reactions and such and i’m sorry for being anon since i’m not really ready to dive back in yet but i miss you! i miss a lot of my moots too so i know how you feel. enough of the sad bits (i love you hihi), how do you feel about same-aged tutor!jungmo giving you a reward for every question you answer correctly (hint: in a form of very suggestive touches as he sits behind you😈😈)

Hi mootie! You're on anon so you'll still be tagged anon!

Its fine to be on anon! If you knew me from my archive then you can say so! For now if you want, claim an anon emote!

(though your writing seems ofdly familiar to a moot i mentioned i missed hmm- 👀 i hope you interact more!)

I HAVE FEELINGS AB THAT. I HAVE FEELINGS!!!

He'd have the answers memorized, so he could check your answer immediately.

If its wrong he pouts a little and then just says. 'i thought you could do better than that. Try again.'

If its right. You'd better pray you're good at hiding arousal :)

He's very touchy. Oh so touchy. His hands rest on your thighs when you're answering a question.

Getting it right means gentle rubs (as his hands get closer to where he wants them.)

Enough right answers in a row and he's bringing his hand to gently rub against you :3

If you keep answering well, even when distracted by his hand between your thighs, then little murmurs of 'good baby, keep going. I think you can finish rhe sheet.'

Of course. If you do finish the sheet, he'd ask ever so softly for consent. 'Do you want the reward now? It'll feel good, i promise.

Given permission, he'd slide his fingers right on in. Being careful to not hurt his student of course :)

Slow movements at first, telling you to keep answering questions. The fingers aren't important.

They feel good though, and every time you answer wrong, he pauses their movement until you correct your answer.

Slowly continuing like that until he can tell you're so distracted it'd be easier to just fuck you.

Since you're ao worked up, he figures you'd be okay with it. So he'd speak softly in your ear 'Let me take your mind off of this. Its obviously stressing you out. I know a perfect way to destress' ;)

Anonie moot, remember! My dms are always open. And im always friendly! You seem v familiar and i do hope you know that i love all my moots, even if I can't name them!

[californiaelitewells]

Forbidden Door 2023 Review

Hello, welcome to my pro wrestling Review Blog.

As this is my first post i would like to make my intoduction short and sweet.

If you do not already know me, I have been a fan of wrestling for the past 3 years and I don't watch WWE

I have chosen Forbidden Door to be the introduction to my reviews as I feel that is not only the best PayPerView we've had all year but demonstrates a decebt chunk of my favorite wrestling talent. That being said, I would have loved to see some nore Lucha on the card.

I wont be going in depth on the buy-in so I'll just say this:

I love to see more Trios in AEW, i think thats a great way of showing off lesser developed talent.

Athena is great and should be on TV more.

I like how they used the Stu Grayson vs El Phantasmo match to sort of update casual audiences that these 2 competitors are no longer in the faction you might remember them last being in (Dark Order and Bullet Club respectively)

And with the Buy in out of the way lets dive into this event!

AEW World Championship, Hiroshi Tanahashi vs MJF

So usually I would have an issue with starting a ppv with the World Champion match, but I think Forbidden Door is lends itself more slack since it's a crossover event, meant to celebrate the talent and succsess of both companies. It's for this same reasoning that I will allow the more casual builds to these matches.

To me it seems MJF vs Tanahashi is made to show how well both athletes compete in a more American, slow paced, sportsman showboaty style of wrestling.

MJF as the heel works well at doing very obvious cowardly tactics. Tanahashi does an equal job acting as the milktoast babyface, starting chants with the audience and working to outsmart his opponent.

Somewhere halfway through the match we see another staple of American wrestling psychology, the worked injury. With MJF emphasisizing pain in his left knee. We saw this same concept utilized by MJF's previous opponent and, soon to be, tag team partner Adam Cole. Could this be a sign that MJF and Cole have more in common than either of them realize?

MJF ends the match using the ultimate heel weapon of the modern era, his Dynamite Diamond Ring.

Overall this was a very textbook American Televesion style wrestling match and I enjpyed it in its slower pace and simplicity.

(I won't be doing grades, because im just a guy on tumblr, just read what I wrote before this)

Hideo Kojima vs CM Punk

So during the build to this match it was rumored that KENTA would be punks opponent, but as we learned last week, that was not the case. I for one, am a big KENTA and New Japan Strong fan, and as he is currently their champion, I am preferable to KENTA not losing anytime soon. Especially to CM Punk who I am expecting to go all the way in this Owen Hart Tournament

Speaking of Punk, he did not have the warm reception he is used to. A lot of people will say he was booed out the building but in my opinion it was %60-%40 Booing Punk.

This match was fine. It wasn't bad by any means but the only spots I would find as stand out are when Punk was referencing his role models, Hulk Hogan and Himself.

Overall I like the offence Kojima brought when he got fired up and I applaud Phil's adaptation to working this match as a heel.

4-Way Match for the AEW Intecontinental Title, Zack Sabre Jr, Katsuyori Shibata, Daniel Garcia, and Orange Cassidy

Before the event began I would have pointed to this match as sleeper hit of the night. After everything it's still tied second for me.

I have to say that this year has been the year Zack Sabre Jr became one of my new favorite wrestlers, his technical wrestling skills and ring psychology are absolutley out of this world, and you have him in the ring with a legend like Shibata, an upcoming technical student Garcia, and the deceptively slippery grapple workings of Orange Cassidy, and you're sure to get wrestling Gold.

Quick note, if I had a serious complaint about this match it would be that Zack Sabre Jr didn't come out to his usual TMDK theme Young Punks. I really like that song.

This match started with Orange using his standard pathetic kicks as a way of getting into the head of all 3 of his opponents but once he started to get some hest we saw Daniel Garcia establish that if anyone is going to try a non grappling move it will be shut down shortly.

Daniel Garcia being the only Sports Entertainer of this match adds an interestling wrinkle as the rest of athletes treat him as almost an after thought.

We've seen Daniel Garcia struggle with his identity as a Sports entertainer vs his skills as a pro wrestler, and with this match it seems that Shibata might be the key factor that Bryan Danielson couldn't be when it comes to bringing Daniel Garcia to the side of Pro wrestling.

Conversly we see the dynamic between ZSJ and OC start to develope, as it seems the style of dominating tekking that Zack has in his arsenal is the perfect counter to oranges momentum based offense, that mixed with the fact we've seen Orange Cassidy growing increasingly tired I think we could see Zack become the Intercontinental champion sometime soon.

Not today though as it was Oranges opurtunity seizing rollup that earned him another day as champ.

Overall this match was a personal fav and on any other night aould be candidate for match of the night.

IWGP World Heavyweight Championshio, Jungleboy Jack Perry vs Sanada

If the MJF vs Tanahashi was to showcase american wrestling to an international audience, this match was that for Japanese style competetive wrestling.

So a lot of people aren't hot for this match but I personally really like this matchup. Jack Perry is a Los Angeles native so I will always have that homestate suppprt for him, but I also really like how his character is very casual and soft. It makes him the perfect babyface contender for any world championship, that with his solid in ring work makes him a great choice for the New Japan championship.

In the build to this Sanada said he was not familiar Jack Perry, and to me that is classic japanese style of promo. From what I've seen its common for japanese wrestlers to try and belittle the status of their opponent rather than the american style of straight up shit talking. And as Jack is not an ex WWE talent, a lot of people already right him off as an unknown.

This match was very good if a little underwhelming. The psychology works well with Sanada constantly underestimating his opponent and Jack using his unique offense to catch Sanada off guard but with matches later in the night, there really was no way this match could live up to the sort of intensity New Japan matches usually bring.

Ultimatly it was Sanadas imposing size, strength, and experience that won him the match.

Overall I feep this match was very good in a vacuum but ok this card unfortunatly it will be overshadowed.

Another factor in this match being overshadowed could be the angle post match. Where we saw Jungleboy turn on his so called Best Friend Hook, in an attempt to threaten him for his FTW championship. I personally would have rather seen this team drag on for another week or 2, it seems like the real heat was that he turned on Hook and not that he turned on a friend. I would have like to see a moment where we think Hook is starting to appreciate and need Jungleboy the same way Jungleboy needed Christian Cage.

The Elite (Hangman Adam Page and the Young Bucks), Eddie Kingston, and Tomohiro Ishii vs The Blackpool Combat Club (Jon Moxley, Wheeler Yuta, and Claudio Castagnoli), Konosuke Takeshita, and Shota Umino

I didn't realize what kind of task I put onto myself until I got to this match.

So this match is full of Elite style "Whos friends with who," drama that makes chismosos like me go wild.

I love to see Eddie Kingston on payperview anytime. His raw aggression is something that nobody else in wrestling could replicate at this time.

Mox being the defacto captain of this team of roughneck badasses is a very entertaining sight.

Hangman and the bucks are great whitemeat babyfaces in this match filled with mean muggers.

Seeing Ishii and Kingston team together has me thinking about the chances of Kingston joining Chaos, but then we would have to get used to the idea of Eddie teaming up with Best Friends and Orange Cassidy. Which... Im not entirely against.

If theres one thing AEW has been able to do consistantly well its the multiman matches.

Its truly impressive how much chaos and drama they are able to fit while maintiaining a throughline through the action so that nobody is stepping on anyone elses time.

Honestly I wouldn't be able to track the action in a way that does it justice, but if this is your first time watching these athletes I would like to ask you to focus on the emotion portrayed by Eddie Kingston, from the opening bell with his drive to kill Claudio, to his moments alone in the ring with his closest friend and toughest opponent Jon Moxley, to the moments he takes to emphasize his teamwork with his enemies turned teammates.

Overall I liked this match. For a certain type of audience this wasnt their favoeite. But for me this is the type of storytelling that could only be found in professional wrestling.

Small side note: I am slightly dissapointed we didn't acknowledge the Bullet Club connection in this payperview but maybe its still in phase 1 to lead to its climax next yesr at forbidden door 3

AEW Womens Championship

So going into this most people could already predict the outcome, but I had a personal bias towards wanting Willow to win. I was at New Japan Resurgence where I saw her win that New Japan Strong Womens championship, and I would have loved to see Willow carry those belts and represent womens wrestling here in the states for multiple companies.

However, Toni is still very early in her second run as womens champ and it makes sense that they would like to establish her as a dominant champion, beating another champ without the need of her heel faction by her side.

Toni working heel has definantly won me over more so than her face work. She brings a sort of aggression that portrays her as the smaller yet more vicious competitor in this match.

While i said i would have loved to see a Willow double champ, I still love what this match does to her character. Basically teaching her that while she has the strength to be strong champion she needs to find that deeper drive to be the world champion.

Hopefully we see this story continue in the womens Owen Hart tournament.

IWGP United States Heavyweight Championship.

There was no way this wasn't going to be my favorite match of the night. Their first match was my match of the year so far, this is my favorite belt in all of Pro Wrestling.

Starting with the intros, this time it was Osprey who got the extra intro cinematic, going back to his Elevated Theme. Mirroring when Kenny had his opening cinematic with the sephiroth theme.

Kenny being the champion for new japan, he returned to his iconic Devils Sky opening, a song that in my opinion absolutley conveys his status as pro wrestlings true final boss.

Before the bell rings we already understand that Kenny is the face in this match, as this is his home country of canada, that coupled with his ongoing story with the betrayal by Don Callis.

This match opens with a trading of wrist control by both competitors. Holds going back and forth with both Kenny and Will getting equal oppurtunity offense.

This doesn't last long as Kenny goes for his finisher early into the match, renting space in Will's head as if to say he could go for the kill at anytime in this match, but Osprey counters and continues to counter to the point where he nearly kicks Omega in the face. To the crowd Will is the heel but to himself, he's more prepared than he's ever been.

Kenny soon gets the upper hand and shows yet again he wants to get the effective offense in by going for his terminator dive, but Don Callis knows Kennys offense better than anyone and he knows that if Kenny lands that move this early it would be a major uphill climb for Osprey, so he risks his own presence in order to interfier with Kenny.

This gives Will the oppurtunity to inflict some much needed violence, and this is where we begin to see just how much of a grudge Will has been holding since Wrestle Kingdom.

Once again the offense goes back and forth but both Kenny and Will are using more creative and damaging moves.

This is when Will once again gets the advantage, and begins right where he left off, attempting to ram Kenny's head through the comentary table, rhyming the moment when Kenny did the same to Will in their last bout.

This is when we see something Will has yet to really show off on AEW tv, and thats his crowdwork. Licking Kennys blood off his bicep to a chorus of "You sick fuck," chants.

In case this wasnt clear how personal this is to Osprey he uses Kennys move, the V Trigger, against him. And this wont be the last time we see this type of tactic from Will.

Once again we see Osprey getting a reaction fron the crowd grabbing a canadian flag and doing everything disrespectful he could think of. However it seems it was his enjoyment in pissing off the crowd that distracted him from his opponent, as Kenny fires up with Canadian rage and uses his countrys flag to lay on some much needed offense.

Now that Kenny has the upper hand he wants to show that this match is still far from over, returning the violence he recieved by driving Ospreys face into the steel steps, both these men are now covered in blood.

Osprey has let it be known that last time he fought Kenny he was deeply affected by the blood loss, not just mentally but physically.

Its safe to assume thats why Kenny decided to bring his opponent to the center of the ring and use his submission wrestling knowledge, to try and get Will to quit the mtach early. But Osprey shows yet again he is not the same competitor he was on Jan 4th.

The ground based wrestling continues to go back and forth just as this match has gone plenty of times before.

Both competitors have gained enough energy to try and over power eachother wirh their more offensive moves, howevee it seems as soon as one wrestler is close to finishing the match the other narrowly escapes.

Its around this time we see the return of Don Callis. This fires up Kenny as his hatred for Don Callis causes him to hit Osprey with a flurry of V triggers.

This is when we see the return of the screwdriver, handed off to Will Osprey, who in a moment of desperation is put into position to get hit with the One Winged Angel but he counters using the screwdriver on Kenny just like Callis did when he turned on Kenny.

Osprey uses his moment to Hit Kenny with the hidden blade elbow, then the stormbreaker. This is when everyone thought Kenny was put away for good, but Kenny just barely escapes with a milimeter rope break.

Don whispers something to Osprey, some sort of desperation play and we see it played out in full effect.

First a v trigger.

Then a one winged angel

No one kicks out of the one winged angel

Except for Kenny at one!

The crowd erupts!

And for the final time this match returns to zero, both competitors trade offense yet again.

This is when we see probably the most devastating move of the night the Tiger Driver 91,

With Kenny dumped soley on his head he is pinned for 2.

Osprey does the one thing neither competitor has been able to do until now and continue his offense, hit his finisher, and pin Kenny for 3.

Will Osprey is the new IWGP US Heavy weight Champion.

Sorry not sorry for the play by play for this one and not the others. This match was unbelievable. Of both of the Championship matches showcased the differences between american and Japanese wrestling this match showcased how a great blend of both could lead to a whole new style of wrestling. One perfectly encompassed by the IWGP US Heavyweight title.

There are 2 layers to this match really. The competative fighting spirit of both competitors, and the interpersonal drama between Kenny, Will, and Don.

The moment Don returned we saw what could have been Will becoming what is essentially the new Kenny Omega, complete with Don at his side, and the one winged angel, but as we saw there is only one Kenny Omega. However, it was Will being himself and using what got him to this position to overcome his biggest challenge yet.

Chris Jericho, Sammy Guevara, and Minoru Suzuki vs Sting, Darby Allin, and Tetsuya Naito

Always good to see Minoru Suzuki in the ring.

Also the significance of Chris Jericho snd Sting in the ring for the first time is hard to deny.

From what I understand Sting was put in a couple of scary situations so I hope everything with him is healthy.

All in all this match is a perfect match to convey to audiences that AEW not only has respect for the past, but has a future that can stand side by side with them.

Overall, I am surprised by how much I enjoyed Suzuki with Jericho. I also hope this alliance with Sting and Darby and LIJ doesnt end here but it most likely will.

Main Event: Bryan Danielson vs Kazuchika Okada

I was definantly excited to hear Danielson come out to Final Countdown. But Okadas theme will always be the hypest. If Kenny's theme is final boss, then Okadas is shonen protag.

Fron the second the bell rings you can tell there is a reason these 2 are in a ring together. They both excude the energy that tells you theyre the top of their game and when they're in the ring its a wrestling match not a pro wrestling segment.

The pace of this match is notable as both competitors do not take too much time to get to know eachother before the big offense begins.

This match is definantly made to represent the clashing of styles. Tanahashi could do American style, Jungleboy can do Japanese style. Kenny and Osprey can blend both. But nobody does American Style better than Danielson and nobody does Japanese Style better than okada.

We see this on display when Danielson uses his matbased submission style to focus okadas right arm. Likewise when Okada uses his aggressive strong style to inflict high damage on Bryan Danielson.

Throughout this match both competitors do a greay job in making you believ this could go either way.

So there is a spot that i can only call devious. It's when Bryan Danielson is imitating a seizure. It was all too believable at the time but i will admit that I felt all the synonyms for shocked when I saw Bryan snap into attack mode, hit the ropes and go for the busaiko knee.

Of course it was after that when we really started to notice that Bryan hurt his arm real bad

As for the finish I am going to be honest and say I am completely surprised that Danielson won. I'm doubly surprised it was due to a tap.

This match was a great one overall and for a first time viewing its full of twist and turns and gives yoh plenty of reason to understand that both of these men deserve their titles as Best in the World.

Thanks for checkung out my review. I'd love to hear your thoughts as well. Soery for any and all grammatical errors english is my first and only language.

[queensconquest]

KNOWING YOUR PARTNER WELL CAN POTENTIALLY MAKE WRITING TOGETHER A LOT EASIER. REPOST.

name. Brittney

pronouns. she/her

preference  of  communication. discord probably (albeit I’ve been slow recently esp since i have 2), or tumblr ims. either work tbh. I just sometimes forget.

name  of  muse.  It’s a multimuse so I have quite a few. look at my docs or on the muse page on my theme

rp  experience  /  how  long. On tumblr I’ve been roleplaying since....2015? 2016? one of those, but I was roleplaying before then, over 10 years though.

best  experience. Mmm, that’s hard to say. I’ve had lots of really good experiences over the years. But maybe when I first joined the HxH fandom in 2019 I think it was? Everyone was super friendly and welcoming and the first fandom where duplicates were super friendly and happy to interact and it wasn’t like a battle or cliques or anything. it was just all one big group. Buuuut I think meeting all my good friends now would be my absolute best experience

rp  pet  peeves  /  dealbreakers. If there’s absolutely no trimming/cutting on posts, or trying to make my character act ooc. That’s about all I can think of at the moment in terms of specifically roleplaying. 

fluff,  angst,  or  smut. Angst is my bread and butter as anyone here can and will tell you. My ooc tag says it all. I do enjoy fluff but I can very rarely write it without at least a bit of angst or something along those lines. Smut can be fun and it can be more than just smut but honestly just depends.

plots  or  memes. Memes! I really enjoy memes honestly. Sure it can be hard to find the right ones sometimes, but there’s a lot of freedom with them to interpret how you want or set situations up. Plus at least i write all my memes with the possibility of being turned into threads if my partners want to, so it can be an easy way to do threads. I don’t really plot, or only bare bones.

long  or  short  replies.  Either honestly. I enjoy having a variety, short can be nice if I don’t have the energy for long replies, but I do greatly enjoy my long threads as well where i can really dive into details or thoughts and actions of a character.

best  time  to  write. Any time. All the time. It really is just whenever. 

are  you  like  your  muse.  There’s probably aspects of me in all my muses, but some I am more similar to than others.

tagged by.  @aristarchos & @blossomingbellflower tagging. @elxsticlxve ; @ebonylaid ; @anomieheld ; @legacychosen​ ; whoever else1

[thewritingstar]

Tranquility (TwiYor)

Pairing: TwiYor (Twilight x Thorn Princess, Loid x Yor, which ever you prefer) 

Fandom: Spy x Family 

Note: Im super excited for this one. Ive been in a writing slump for a while and after diving through spy x family, I knew I needed to write something for it. Of course no fandom that im in can escape the angst so that is what this is. 

Big shout out to my lovely friend and amazing beta @smolmexicanita shes the best!!

TW: Character Death, blood, wounds, angst but like this is a love fic so dont be scared please

Since this is a new fandom pls lmk if you would like to be tagged in any upcoming fics. This will also be posted on Ao3 soon. 

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

He always knew deep down that one of these missions would kill him. It was never a surprise or something he could avoid. Especially when you put your life on the line constantly. Death might come naturally to others, but his was always lurking over his shoulder.

Even a mission as simple as delivering a letter could cost him his life. It was important to make it all count and more important to not leave anything behind. You don’t get to have friends and family in this line of work. That way when your blood is splattered on the wall, there are no words left unsaid or any resentment. You can die with the peace of saving the world even if you didn't know anyone in it.

Guns, poison and even bombs were used against him and although he was trained to handle them with grace and swiftness, he never thought that it would come to this.

His back was against the ground, eyes looking up at the night sky in all its glory. He wished that maybe in another life he could have gotten more out of it. To walk outside and see the stars twinkling in the fortress of the sky. To know that the world didn’t rest on his shoulders. If he had a choice, he might have been an astronomer. Hell, he might have been a lot of things.

He had always loved the night sky. Hence, Twilight.

But instead the grass poked his back. His suit was becoming damp from the nightly watered grass and possibly blood. Most definitely blood. Maybe this is what a corpse felt like six feet under. Oddly enough, it felt peaceful.

He should be panicking right now, but laying down like this felt good. A chance to relax. When was the last time he relaxed? Maybe when he gets home he can lay on the couch while Anya tells him about the newest episode of her spy show. That would be relaxing.

What wasn’t relaxing was the state of his suit. He would have to get this suit dry cleaned. Well maybe he would just toss it, there was too much blood.

He coughed and almost choked on the blood coming from his dried lips. Everything around him was spinning. Even if it weren't night time, he would probably still be seeing stars.

The only thing keeping him centered was the weight on his stomach and the fist that clenched his tie.

He never thought his death would drag on like this. He assumed it would be quick and in a sacrificial way that saved thousands. His death would mean something. It would be the end of war and children would never cry from the cruel world. If Twilight's name was erased from the WISE association then it meant he did his job.

Instead he was on the lawn of a garden in some place he couldn’t remember.

He heard a voice mumble something. It was soothing and sweet. Maybe he should close his eyes.

“No, stay awake.” The voice called to him.

By command, he forced his eyes to stay open. He also noticed the slowing of his pulse.

The voice trembled again. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

He knew that voice. It was one he had grown accustomed to. Her voice was a haven, one that he vowed to protect. He needed to get up and finish his mission. Why wasn’t he moving?

“Stop trying to move Loid.” She pleaded.

A water droplet fell onto his face. The stars were still glowing without a cloud to cover them. Another drop fell and this time he forced his eyes to the source.

But the clouds were not clouds, but in fact eyes that were red and raw. Eyes of crimson that he had come to know so inexplicably well that his own eyes began to water.

“Y-Yor.” He whispered her name and that was all it took for him to realize what was happening.

She let out a sob as her fist tightened on the fabric. The fabric that she would straighten in the morning when he was “running late”. The fabric that she washed and ignored the blood stains. The fabric that she would pull to make his head turn to her and kiss her softly. The tie that he wore when he asked her to marry him.

And now it would be the tie that would signal his death.

“Loid, please. Please forgive me. I didn’t know it was you.” Yor’s voice grew with worry and now he could see it.

A gold dagger sticking out from his stomach. He had been stabbed in close combat and hadn’t sensed the presence of her. He never had been able to. It was one of the many things that intrigued him. Now he understood why. It was all falling into place.

That black dress and gold details flooded his mind begging for information. So this was the infamous Thorn Princess. The deadly assassin that left no trace and killed with the grace and sophistication of a god.  

He remembered when he joined WISE and they had said if he was ever in the unfortunate situation of meeting her, that he was as good as dead. He was naive to think of that as an empty threat. In the end, they had been right.

Twilight remembered spending months trying to research about her. Her victims vanished from the face of the earth without a trace and no one had ever seen her.

Everything he knew about her was true. But also so wrong at the same time.

“You weren’t supposed to be Twilight.”

The lore of her was how she was heartless and took no prisoners, yet he had watched the same woman warm up to a child who wasn’t even hers and loved her as if she was her very own. He knew that her blades were deadly and her strength was unmatched, but her smile and contagious laugh outshined those truths.

“I’m sorry.” She sobbed.

For everything that he had known about the Thorn Princess began to unravel as Yor looked down at him. This was not a deadly assassin, but a woman who was given a bad hand of cards. Just like him.

But the only thing they forgot to mention about her was how kind and caring she was. No amount of blood on her hands could diminish the way his heart fluttered when she walked through a door. It didn’t matter how deep her blade was in his skin.

“Please Loid, it can’t be you.”

He didn’t know it was possible, but he loved her with every fiber of his being.

“It's okay.” He soothed her.

“Loid just hold on, I am going to get you help.” But as Yor began to move off of him, he grabbed her hand.

“Don’t.” He coughed.

Her eyes went wide. “Loid.” More tears surfaced. “If we don’t get you to a hospital-”

“I know.” He spoke calmly. She had a tendency to get lost in her mind and throw around the most obscure scenarios.

He could feel his head growing heavier by the second. The grass was feeling more comfortable and the pain wasn’t as bad as he had thought. He never held resentment for the world he protected. He never felt hatred for the life he never had. But he would be damned if his words would go to his grave.

“Loid.” Yor panicked. “I don’t know what to do.”

His hand reached up and his thumb brushed away the tears falling down her face. He wished he met her sooner. He wished that there was an alternate timeline where they had met.

One as childhood friends. Coworkers. Neighbors. Anything. Hell, even enemies.

He prayed that those universes existed so that he could still be with her, even if he didn’t know it.

In every single one, he wanted to love her.

He wanted her smile that reached her eyes when he came through the door. The way her cheeks would dust with the slightest of pink when their hands would brush and the way her voice would catch in her throat when he pressed his lips to her cheek.

He wanted it all. The smiles, the stares they shared, he even wanted the tears and the arguments. He never wanted to lose the feelings he had for her.

Although he wasn’t sure that those universes existed, he was beyond grateful that in this present one, he got to know her.

“You were always so beautiful.” He said. “From the moment I saw you, I wasn’t able to shake the feeling that we were destined to meet.”

She shook her head. “Please, don’t. Loid…I’m sorry.” She cried.

And instead of trying to push her off or fight back, he just smiled. A genuine smile that he found was just for his family.

“I never thought that my life would be like this.” His voice, soft.

“Being a spy?” She asked.

“No.” He said. “You gave me a life I wasn’t allowed to want and even though it was meant to be a facade, I always forgot that it was. I was meant to get a family. A wife and child. Send that child to a school and have her get me close to my target. World peace was the goal.”

“They told me that this would be the hardest mission of my life.” He grunted. “But they were wrong. It was easy because I was in love with you and after all this time, I had forgotten that it was supposed to be fake. I was selfish to think that it could last.”

Yor cupped his face with her hand. “You gave everything to everyone.”

“And you gave me everything. You are the most selfless person I have ever met Yor. The way that you rearranged your life and fell into a role with so much ease, it's beyond amazing. I hope you know that I am forever in your debt.”  

There was so much blood that her anxiety started to worsen. “Then please, let me be selfish for once. Let me save you.”

A big part of him wanted that. He wanted to wake up the next day perfectly fine with minimum wounds. He wanted to walk out into the kitchen where he would spend a quiet and peaceful hour making breakfast before a mop of pink hair would stumble into her chair and complain about the morning sun being too bright.

He wanted to hear the footsteps of Yor coming out of their room, hers was turned into a study, and she would greet him with a kiss on the cheek and Anya would mutter something about them being in love.

But then there was the realist in him. The part of him that held the truths even if it hurt to bear them. The part of him that was small told him that he only had a few more breaths left before it would become painful to breath. The blood seeping from his wounds and coating her hands would be the last feeling they would share.

Loid wanted nothing more to get up. But his legs wouldn’t move. He heard Yor mutter something into a phone but his mind was betraying him.

“It's going to be okay.” She cried. “I love you too much to let you die like this. You don’t get to save the world and then not be here for it.”

He brought Yor’s hand to his mouth and placed a kiss on her knuckles.

“You gave me my own sense of peace a long time ago. Looking into your eyes is pure bliss in itself.” He smiled.

The pink on her cheeks that he adored so much surfaced. “Loid, I love you so much. You are going to be okay. Our family is going to be okay. Just save your energy.”

Yor wasn’t sure who she was trying to reassure. She knew by the state of his body that there wasn’t much time left. The doctor she called said they would be there soon but she wasn’t sure how long this would last. She was so used to taking lives that trying to save them was not really in her wheelhouse.

She looked down at Twilight, not Loid. He will always be Loid. His blonde hair damp against his forehead and his shallow breathing still made him look as gorgeous as ever. She never knew what being in love was like. She had watched movies and read the books but they could never truly encapsulate everything she felt for the man.

Whatever they deemed love to be, that was the perfect label for him. Her love. Her Loid.

She had lifted her body off of him a while ago and was applying pressure to his wound. Everything was happening too fast. How was he the one losing his life and yet she felt like death was creeping on her as well? She once read that a swan could die of heartbreak. She now understood why.

“Yor, please. The silence is too much.” Loid whispers and she could see it now.

She could see the tears in his eyes. The weight of the situation is hitting them both but she has to be strong. She inhales and tries her best to stop the tears and instead smiles down at him. Her fingers brush over his bangs.

“I once read about Twilight. I was told about the best spy in the world. He was quick and a master of disguise. You should see the way people talk about you. You were like a god among men. No one knew you and yet, everywhere you went, you left traces of yourself. I was told that maybe one day I would meet you. They said to be careful and to prepare for the very worst.”

Loid made no sound but he stared at her, waiting for the rest.

“I thought that if someone could be that good at their job then I would need to be the very best. I trained harder than I ever had once I read what little file we had on you. I became better at my job because of you. But you wanna know the funny thing?” She asked.

Loid nodded.

“Twilight did not make me into the woman I am today.” She leaned and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “You did.”

She watched as a tear slipped down his cheek and his lips that had been straight for a while, turned up into a small smile.

“Being your wife made me want to be a better person. Kind and caring. Someone who knows what family means entirely. You made me want to be a mother for Anya. To be a good wife for you. But mostly importantly, you taught me how to love. The messy mornings and the days where my job took a toll on me were all washed away and forgotten when you looked at me as if I was the most important thing in the world. How could I ever repay you for making me feel loved but learning to love myself too? That is what made me.” Her own tears surfaced. “Falling love with you was the greatest pleasure of my life. One I never thought I would ever experience. So thank you Loid. For loving me for all that I am.”

This time the pink blooming on the skin came from Loid. Yor let out a small laugh as she rubbed his cheek.

Loid choked out. “What's-so funny?”

“You. You being Twilight makes so much sense but also none at all. Had anyone else been given your assignment, it would have been different.”

“How so?” He said and his eyes winced from the pain.

Yor almost scoffed. “A wife and a child? You could have been cruel and forced us to perform out of fear. You could have treated Anya harshly and given her no option but to be the best. Instead you did what no other spy would have done. You offered compassion and safety. You gave that little girl a home instead of a roof on her head. You gave her toys and did everything in your power to make her smile. I mean who rents out a theme park just to fulfill a little girl's dream? The way that you cherished everything she did and not only acted as her father but became her dad. Sometimes we lose ourselves in our missions but I know now that you would do anything for her, even if it ruined your plans.”

It was true. He had never once faltered with his plans until Anya came into his life. At first it was difficult to balance it all but to know that someone cared enough that he was alive at the end of the mission was something he grew used to. He was determined more than ever to be better. For the sake of the little girl who was giving the world its greatest chance at world peace.

His body was growing tired but all he could think about was Anya. Her graduation from elementary school, middle school and high school. How if she ever found out that he was a spy, she would beg to become one herself. He wanted those moments of her growing up and to be happy when he came home. He wanted his little girl to be his forever. The mission gave him new life.

“You love our daughter Loid, so you can’t die. I won’t allow it.” Yor said firmly. “We need you.”

“I don’t want to die.” He uttered truthfully and the stars above weren’t as bright anymore.

He must have heard a helicopter or something but it was becoming increasingly more difficult to keep his eyes open. He heard Yor’s voice calling to someone and he felt cold. His body began to tremble and fear took over.

Just when he thought that he could have it all. He was ready to be done. This was his punishment. He was going to resign from spy work and dedicate his life to something normal, something he wanted.

He could go on vacations and show the world to Yor and Anya. He could give her the childhood she needed and the normalcy that Yor deserved.

He felt her hand in his and she pulled him so that he was now leaning up. If he had thought the sky was spinning then, it was going a million miles an hour now.

Yor leveled herself with him. “Your mission now, Loid, is to return to your family.”

His hand reached out to her cheek and pulled her close to him. “I love you more than you could ever imagine.” Slowly he closed the gap and pressed his lips to hers.

They had kissed many times before, but this was different. He pressed against her as much as he could, taking in her all as if it was his dying wish.

She pulled away all too quickly and her eyes flashed wide. Beautiful crimson. Rubies of her own design. He had a custom ring made for her to match, but that will have to wait for another time.

“Yor, tell Anya. To forgive me. And that-I love her.” He begged.

“Loid just wait-”

“I know I gave the world peace, but you and our daughter gave me mine.” He said as his hand fell from her cheek and he felt himself fall back onto the grass and into a black abyss.

He heard a scream rip through the air but all he could think about was how happy he was.

There was a time when he would close his eyes and his dreams would be plagued with horrors. He could clearly hear the screams of his mother and the pain he felt when he was left all alone in the world. He could remember each bullet he shot in the early stages of his spy work and slowly over time became numb to it all.

But recently when his eyes would flutter close as the tv hummed softly, he would only imagine his family. Rest was just that and he could finally relax even if raising a child was pretty demanding.

The grass was soft against his back and the stars weren’t there but he knew deep down that he did all he could. They were right when they say you don’t get to see the harvest of your planting. Deep down he fell into the darkness, his mind offering him one last image.

Yor holding Anya. The biggest smiles graced their faces and he walked into the door, planting a kiss on his daughter's forehead and then one of his wife's life. Happiness. That is what he was given.

Once upon a time, a spy and an assassin fell in love and raised a child. All for the sake of world peace. What a funny thought.

---

Thank you so much for reading!!! Hope you didn't suffer too much! 

I would love to hear any thoughts you had and if you would like to see more spy x family content, pls lmk! my inbox is always open for anything from requests to asks!!

If you wanna chat or wanna follow me on other platforms, Ao3 and instagram are where to find me, same name. 

Thanks again 

<3 Star 

[ayanna-wild]

Devil Don't Go

Word Count: 1679

Pairings: Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

Warnings: angst, violence, sad fluff, fluff, mentions of drowning, near death experiences

A/N: Request from Wattpad

Summary: This case should have been open and shut, it wasn’t supposed to go this way.

..................................................................................

Your world was spinning, well more accurately you were spinning, in a chair at the LAPD. To be even more accurate Lucifer was spinning you. The case you had agreed to help Chloe with had hit a snag, and every lead you thought you had was coming up a dead end. Which is why you were sitting in a chair, letting your devilish companion lazily twirl you around.

"I still say the manager of the victim's store seemed rather suspicious, are you sure we can't question him again?"

You hung your head back staring at the ceiling, thankful he wasn't spinning you fast enough to make you dizzy.

"He lawyered up, besides he had an alibi."

Lucifer huffed, clearly bored with how slow this case was moving.

"Oh yes, he was with his lover, was it? People lie darling."

You shrugged, placing your feet on the ground to stop yourself from spinning as you turned to look at him. Lucifer smiled when your eyes landed on him, and the corners of your mouth twitched up.

You and Lucifer had grown close since your transfer to the LAPD, and you found yourself helping Chloe on cases she could have solved easily herself. If she noticed she hadn't said a thing, you suspected it was Lucifer who convinced her to ask for your assistance.

This case however, they really did need help on.

"Why do you think they're lying?"

"He barely remembered their name, and his so called significant other, took far to long to recall him." Lucifer reasoned.

You frowned a little, unable to refute his logic, you leaned back in the chair.

"Well...you're right..."

"Of course I am, now put your feet back up, unfortunately this is the most interesting thing I've done today."

Before the two of you could continue your pointless entertainment, Chloe rushed over to her desk, grabbing her car keys. Both you and Lucifer perked up.

"What's got you in such a rush Detective?"

"Ella found us a lead, it might not pan out, but we should still check into it."

You jumped to your feet, grabbing your own keys from Lucifer's hand, who'd been carelessly tossing them back and forth with you earlier.

"I'll follow you."

"Allow me to accompany you." Lucifer beamed.

You raised an eyebrow as you headed for the exit.

"I don't let him press the buttons." Chloe explained.

After the fourth or fifth time of him turning on the siren to frighten unsuspecting civilians you forbade him touching anything as well. He muttered under his breath the rest of the drive.

~

You'd never understood the appeal decrepit buildings had in the criminal world of LA, but here you were.

"Couldn't they ever choose a nice little café, or someplace not run by rats?" You mumbled to yourself, stepping over what you hoped was an oil stain.

Leaky pipes and moldy smells filled the air as you careful walked along the walls, gun ready and senses on high alert. Your suspect, who had in fact turned out to be the manager, had opened fire as soon as the three of you walked through the door. It forced you away from Chloe and Lucifer, who you were now trying to find.

The platform you were walking on creaked behind you, and you whirled around, gun raised. Chloe froze, raising her hands, and you let out a sigh.

"Find anything?"

She shook her head, and you placed your gun back in its holster.

"Where's Lucifer?"

Her question chilled you to the core, and you stared at her in confusion. Your voice caught as you spoke.

"I thought he was with you..."

~

You refused to leave your desk, or even take any breaks as you searched through file after file. Called anyone even remotely related to your suspect. Lucifer had been with Chloe, he'd been vulnerable, he could be hurt, or worse.

You shook your head, that line of thinking wasn't going to do anything but make you panic.

A heavy, frustrated sigh left your lips, and you leaned forward, resting your head in your hands on the desk in front of you. Your eyes strained from hours of reading.

"I found something!"

You whipped your head around so fast it almost hurt your neck. Ella ran in, waving a paper around wildly. You and Chloe quickly crowded her and Ella explained everything.

"Okay, so I called around, you know places he frequents, old jobs things like that. There's an old swim center he used to run, a few workers there say he still comes by after hours to do laps."

"What does this have to do with finding Lucifer?" Chloe asked.

"Well I just off the phone with an employee who works there. Mr. Manager man is there now."

~

You couldn't drive fast enough, flying through red lights and recklessly taking turns. Chloe held onto the dash, shouting out warnings now and then, but she never told you to slow down. She was just as eager as you to find the king of hell.

"Y/N! We need a plan!"

You almost forgot to put the car into park before you got out. Chloe followed after you, calling for you to slow down, but you ignored her. The doors to the pool slammed open when you kicked them, smacking the wall just in time to see the murderous manager shove Lucifer, who was unconscious and tied to a chair, into the pool.

You screamed his name, dropping your gun as you dived into the pool without a second thought. You spotted Chloe running after the suspect just seconds before you hit the water.

The pool was so deep, and the chlorine burned your eyes as you swam towards Lucifer. You didn't know how you were holding your breath this long, but you weren’t really focusing on that. You struggled to untie the ropes around him, but your lungs were beginning to burn.

He's been down there for too long already, you were down there too long, your head growing light.

With no other choice but to surface, you took a large breath before diving under the water again. It wasn't enough time to really catch your breath and your chest tightened, but you finally loosened the ropes. You thanked the adrenaline rushing through your veins that you were able to pull him to the surface and out of the pool.

Violent coughs shook your body as you struggled to breathe again. You were light-headed, but you needed to focus, you had to check on him. Turning your attention to Lucifer you rolled him onto his back checking the injury to his bloody temple, it was sallow nothing to serious, and then you checked his pulse.

Only... there was no pulse.

"No no no...."

You got to your knees, placing your hands in the center of his chest as you began to push fast. You went back and forth between pressing on his chest to blowing breath into his lungs. You weren’t sure how long you kept this up, but you really didn't care to keep track of time right now.

"Come on...Lucifer, please..."

Tears clouded your vision and your arms gave out, you collapsed against his chest, checking his pulse once more, but there was nothing.

"Damn it wake up!" You slammed your fists down on his chest. Your tears ran down your face mixing with the pool water still clinging to your skin, but he didn’t move.

"You promised we'd go out for lunch tomorrow, and you always keep your promises, right?"

You brushed his wet hair from his face as your hands shook.

"So you have to wake up." Your voice broke, and you pressed your forehead against his, crying freely.

"Please don't go."

You almost slammed your head against his when his body suddenly jerked, and he sat up. You jumped back staring at him with wide eyes as he coughed out water from his lungs. He wheezed a moment clutching his chest, before looking around until his eyes landed on you. He gave you a tired smile and a weak chuckle.

"Well that was a wonderfully terrible visit to Hell."

With that joke your worry evaporated, and you fell back against the wall behind you. You ran a hair through your damp hair, and you laughed through your tears.

"You're alive..."

Lucifer looked at you curiously, and he moved closer to you.

"Darling are you alright? Why are you crying?"

He let out a surprised grunt when you wrapped your arms around his neck.

"You were dead you idiot, of course I'm crying."

"But I'm not dead now..."

You huffed, shaking your head as you tightened your hold around him.

"You're missing the point." You spoke lightly.

Lucifer carefully held you, frowning a little when he felt your body trembling.

"You're shaking." He pointed out softly.

"Just cold from the water." You lied.

You smiled, nestling closer to him, you needed to feel his heartbeat his breath on your skin. You pulled back to hold his face in your hands, eyeing the cut on his temple.

"You're bleeding a little still..." You muttered.

He grabbed your hand as your fingers ghosted over the wound. He smiled squeezing your hand a little.

"I imagine my situation would be much worse if not for you."

He smiled, and you slowly realized you were sitting in his lap. You cleared your throat, shifting to move off him, and he sent you a wink.

"Anyway, I'm really happy you're okay."

Lucifer's expression softened, and he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

"Well I couldn't very well stay dead now could I? A promise is a promise."

You looked at him surprised.

"You heard that?"

He chuckled, moving a wet strand of hair away from your eyes.

"It was hard not to, you were practically praying to me."

You rolled your eyes, but you still couldn't help the smile that stretched across your face.

"Just promise you won't go dying on me again."

"I'll try my very best darling." He chuckled.

..................................................................................

Tag List: @sallyp-53 @mizzezm @adira-secrets @we-are-all-alittle-strange-here @gingernarwal @im-just-along-for-the-ride @lifeshortbro @measure-in-pain @emiwrites3reads @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @kelly-n-russell @aiofheavenandhell @beththedemonhunter

[grantzarrr]

Just a thing g.d

summary: Y/n and Grayson don’t like labels but they fuck around with each other and feelings are definitely there, but what happens when they are revealed?

warnings: poorly written smut :)

tags: @fangdolan @gothlydolan @onlyyyarii (idk why it didn’t work :(( )

There she is, in her sexiest piece of lingerie that she could find. What was she doing? Well, she was taking mirror pictures for her boyfriend—fuck buddy—? To everyone besides them, they were seemed to just be dating but Y/n and Grayson just didn’t want to put a label on it yet. They never claimed each other but would always deny that they were fuck buddies, they just wanted to enjoy each other without having to feel like there was a need to call- what they have- something. Just taking it slow.

But while she was setting that up, Grayson was in the middle of filming for his podcast with Ethan and Ryan and she knew far and well what he was doing. She knew exactly what time it was, she knew that if Grayson’s phone ‘blew up’ a few times, everyone would be on his case ready to ask questions. And that's exactly how she wanted and what she wanted.

“So gray, are you still trying to figure your love life out or—like what’s going on there?” Ryan asked, being very keen on his relationship.

“Uh, ry you mean fuck partner?” Ethan teased knowing where to push him.

“Oh fuck off e, we’re not fuck partners nor in a relationship—just enjoying each other for a bit.”

Then he felt it, his phone buzzing notifying him that he received a message, he only glanced though, roughly seeing your name and turning his phone back over. But then, that notification went off again back to back. That right there caused some heads to turn as Grayson saw it was you again and going to see what’s up this time. And oh- was he surprised, there you were sitting on your knees in some lingerie, giving him that little smirk he would love to fuck outta you. He noticed the first little remark of 4 that you sent, that one just stuck out more it seemed like you were talking as if you had known what exactly he was doing.

here’s something to talk about on ur little podcast. p.s ik u wanna tell them were together so go on ;)

And that fucked Grayson up, as much as he wanted to fucking call you his just for you to say that did something— but he couldn’t be quite sure. But as he continued staring he started to shift in his seat a little, only staring at your tits in that, looking so perfect for him. Only him. All he wanted to do was to cover them in hickies. Oh, how bad he wanted to flip you over your vanity and force you to watch him through the mirror as he pounded into you miraculously. Then to place you on your knees and shove his dick down your throat until he saw the tears himself.

“Yo gray? seems as if someone got you a little tensed there? You’re shifting bro..” Ethan chuckled, he knew it was you asking to get dicked down or something. He just wanted to fuck with his brother and see how long it would take here. “Oh no, it’s nobody.” He blurted out quickly but he knew for this to stop he had to respond, to at least say something so he did it swiftly as possible.

Y/n you better fucking stop or I swear you won’t even have free hands to type.

He was pissed, aggravated he was so mad that you were getting away with that, and he couldn’t do shit. He had to sit there and film his podcast for about an hour and he just fucking knew you wouldn’t let this go, not even for a second. And he thought everyone forgot until Ethan brought it back up and he had to say at least something they wanted to hear now.

“Is that uh is that your girlfriend? Hm? Is she asking for you to come over again?” Ethan lightheartedly joked but still, he was so determined to get Grayson to boil and steam over like he did every time just on camera. “Jesus e, would you let it go already.” Grayson gritted being so easily tempted to just end the podcast, it's been at least 58 minutes he can firmly say.

“Oh no go ahead, I would like to hear about this so to be fuck buddy, what is it only on Fridays? like a club? because I would love to be invited” Ryan joined in with Ethan on the little joke but he seriously wanted to know about this just in the goofy little way to make of it. But just as Grayson was about to answer, another one of a more scandalous photo sent. This photo made its way to his number one spot on the “Private Folder” of his. Grayson felt like he was gonna explode but the explosive was straight at his dick and his face went beat red. Not of embarrassment but because holy shit— look at you.

It was you legs spread and the camera hovering just where to leave the imagination running wild but still enough to tell you were wet, even if he has already seen it all. It still fucked him up in ways he couldn’t even began to fonder over. And it was just enough for him to say enough of that teasing.

“Yo, um, I gotta go- but finish the pod ok? Alright, I’ll be back...later.” Grayson rushed off quickly. Everyone in the room just watched in silence as he quickly gathered his phone and a few small little things he carried with him and he left. “Yup, booty call- where the fuck is my 10 dollars, Ryan!” Ethan shouted, happy he won this little ‘bet’. “Wow-.” Was all Ryan could say.

Once Grayson got to her house, he didn’t even bother to knock, he knew that the spear key was always under the 4th rock to the left. And when he got in...oh boy was he furious. Talking as he closed and locked the door back, not knowing she was right in the living room getting herself off. “Y/n what the fuck was that!? I told you that I-.” He was stopped dead in his tracks when he heard her wimpier his name softly, he gulped quickly and turning her way to watch exactly what she was doing. “Oh-, I see you’ve started without me—and that’s the biggest mistake of your fucking life babe.”

And with that, he went and grabbed both her hands and held them above her head, diving in with a very heated kiss. Y/n begun mumbling words against their kiss as she tried rolling her naked hips against his crotch for some friction. “You wanna go and send shit like that to me when I’m filming? Then have the audacity to finger yourself? Instead of simply telling me you wanted to fuck—god why are you so risky.”

He tried to not rage at her, there was no point she wasn’t his girl but nor was she a ‘fuck buddy’ well technically yeah, but to them, they weren’t. But the shit she pulls sometimes fucks him up, having him thinking about it for days and easily getting hard at the smallest memory and he can’t say shit or it’ll be over, and boy he fucking loves it, who wouldn’t? The adrenaline is what Grayson Dolan is all about. He doesn’t know if she feels the same or he just really knows how to fuck her right yet. “ Mhmm I did and I’ll do it multiple times until you boil over because I’m your little risk maker.” She smirked—oh did she just say-

“You wanna fuck with me like that hm? Have me thinking about it for days? Well, I’ll show you a good fucking alright.” He growled at her, having a good reason to give it to her good after that claim. He started attacking her neck. Sucking and licking, little nibbles here and there and he then moved down her body. Still having her hands above them. He stopped right at beginning of her pussy.

“Get up and bend over on the couch, now.” He demanded and was very determined to show her what she could have if they were together. He still didn’t quite know if she meant what she said but shit... he’ll take it. As she was getting up he smacked her ass giving her more of a little pep in her step, and she didn’t dare to say anything. As she was getting in the position, he got behind her and started to scrip, he just wanted to see her bend from behind, getting some of the action in. Once he did he started to stroke his cock, eyes fully on her pussy from behind and her ass. Her being impatient and hearing his short little breaths, she peaked from her shoulder at him and God was that a sight to see.

“Does that feel good, angel?” His deep voice rumbling within her, he knew he wouldn’t get anything out of her. His dick is big enough to keep anything but moans and groans from escaping. So all she did was nod quickly. The couch was snacking, she was shaking he was pounding into her giving out everything he had built up. “Fuck, I love the sounds my fucking pussy makes.” He gritted. She already knew face down on the couch, ass up and he hammered, Y/n wasn’t even sure she would be able to walk after this. And oh wait— did he say?

He just filled her up to the brim with his cock alone, the thickness and fullness of it alone would fulfill her. God was he good, gripping a handful of hair for a leverage of their position, “Graysonn, don’t stop, please.” She begged and since she asked so nicely he didn’t stop and wasn’t going to until her orgasm had her in tears. “Come on, baby. I know for a fact that you can be a hell of a lot louder than that.” But she couldn’t, her neighbors recently complained about it since their baby was born. But when he was going at it like this, all she could say was “Neighbor. Babies—FUCK!” He understood completely- on both ends. The neighbors that had their baby and that she was gonna cum, he also felt her pussy clench so he knew for a fact. He was already at the edge of his orgasm.

“Did you claim me?” They both coincidentally said at the same time but who was gonna answer it...

A/N: helloo, hope you liked it!! im gonna drown in holy water now :D

[uwuwriting]

Nishinoya, Kenma and Tendou w/ lyric prank

Request: Hi um so since you are writing for Haikyu now could I maybe get Kenme, Tendou and NIshinoya with a cute lyric prank? Like super sweet songs. Thank you and you can ignore this I’m sorry.

Don’t be sorry sweet anon of course I’m gonna write it. I love writing for Haikyu and I like it when you guys request things for them. Since you didn’t specify which songs I used some of my favorites. Love yaa. 💖💖💖

rules

warnings: Tendou’s is SUGGESTIVE.

songs: ‘Cuz I love you- Lizzo, Love- Keyshia Cole, Cyber sex- Doja Cat

NIshinoya Yuu

-I feel like Nishinoya is familiar with tik tok.

-And by familiar I mean addicted. 

-So he had seen those lyric pranks here and there but never really paid any mind to them. 

-You on the other hand found them so cute. 

-And of course you wanted to see how your boyfriend would react.

-You had two options.

- One, send a horny/sexy song in hopes this escalates to something else.

- Two, send a sweet/ lovey dovey song and get a cute response.

-You went for the second option because you were feeling extra cuddly and you knew that he would come over to shower you with affection the moment you send the first lyric.

-He’s just like that.

-Overly affectionate in general and would leave whatever he’s doing if you need him.

-You were already chatting with him, he was telling a stupid thing Tanaka did to Kiyoko when you suddenly sent the first lyric. 

- ‘ Never been in love before.                                                                                      What the fuck are fucking feelings yo?’

-He didn’t respond immediately so you took the opportunity to send another text. 

- ‘ Once upon a time, I was a ho .                                                                                I don't even wanna ho no mo'

- ‘Wait this sounds familiar....I KNOW THIS FROM SOMEWHERE!!!’

-You were kinda disappointed.

-You were hoping to keep him guessing for a little longer but you knew that when it came to you he was extra perceptive.

-He would sense when something was off in an instant. 

-That’s why you couldn’t keep something hidden from him for longer than a day, and I’m being generous. 

- ‘ Got you something from the liquor store.                                                        Little bit of Y/N and some Mo Tryna open up a little more Sorry if my heart a little slow’

- ‘Who said you are slow? IM GONNA FIGHT THEM I SWEAR!!!”

-You were cackling at this point, he was taking this very seriously. 

-Still you were amazed at how he hadn’t figured out the song yet.

-But since you are a little shit you continued. 

- ‘ I thought that I didn't care I thought I was love-impaired But baby, baby I don't know what I'm gonna do’

-I swear you could sense the moment the lyrics clicked in his mind through the screen. 

-Matching your energy he responded. 

- ‘IM CRYING!’

- ‘CUZ I LOVE YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!’

-Both of you sent the last part at the same time followed by an array of heart memes and voice messages of you trying to hit the high notes. 

-He did come over after leaving you on read for 10 minutes. 

-You two cuddled and played the song on repeat for 3 hours straight. 

Kozume Kenma

-Sweet lil kitty.

-He loves you and you know it. 

-He doesn’t really like tik tok.

-He just can’t understand the hype behind it.

-So he is completely oblivious to this whole trend. 

-You two are hanging out in his room. 

-He was in the middle of a stream, commenting here and there on the game and answering a few questions. 

-You were laying on his bed scrolling through your instagram and blasting music through your earphones. 

-That’s when a love song came on and you wanted to dance and sing to it so badly but he was streaming....

-You wanted to share it with him because the lyrics reminded you of him and it was so cute. 

-Slightly pouting in your mini misery you remembered the lyric trend. 

-Even though the videos you had seen had been suggestive you weren’t really in the mood for that. 

-You just wanted to cuddle him. 

-Going into your chat you started to type the part you were listening to right now. 

- ‘  Now you're gone, what am I gonna do So empty ‘

-His phone vibrated and he spared a glance at it but didn’t see what the message was.

-You weren’t about to give up though.

- ‘ My heart, my soul can't go on ‘

-He ignored it again.

- ‘ Go on, baby, without you’

-He spared a glance at it again and you contemplated on stopping in fear he might get annoyed when he saw it was you. 

-But you knew he will only get flustered afterwards.

- ‘ My rainy days fade away when you come around please tell me baby’

-He grabs his phone as it vibrates and unlocks it.

-You can hear the chat going wild with messages when he smiles down at his screen, a rare occasion. 

-You send another message. 

- ‘ Why you go so far away Why you go ‘

-The blush that tinted his cheeks darkened as he turned to look at you. 

- “I’m not that far away....” he whispered.

-The chat was beyond confused on what was going on. 

-You sent the last lyric and that’s when he decided to end the live stream. 

-He apologized to his fans and turn the computer off.

-He pounced on you the moment the camera turned red and he kissed you like there was no tomorrow.

-His phone lay open still in your chat, your last text facing the ceiling. 

- ‘ Love Never knew what I was missing But I knew once we start kissin' I found you.’

Tendou Satori

-It’s a race of who does the trend first.

-You are both addicted to tik tok.

-That’s one of the reasons you are together. 

-You are similar and like the same things. 

-So you both have seen the trend on multiple occasion and have sent each other videos. 

-In a way you were challenging the other to try it. 

-You knew that your boyfriend loved pampering you in kisses and love, and you were tempted to  send a love song something sweet. 

-But you also knew that he was a little freaky, always making comments and getting you worked up. 

-So you decided to be freaky yourself.

-He was at practice when you finally put your plan in motion.

-He would always answer your texts during his water brakes so it wouldn’t be long until he saw it. 

- ‘ And he don't even scroll through Insta 'Less he going through my pictures ‘

-Half an hour passed until he finally replied. 

- ‘You know me too well princess’

-  ‘You’re too irresistible I can’t help myself.’

-You bit your lip at the messages and you knew that it wouldn’t take long before the more ..... PG 18.

-Debating whether or not to continue and since you were a little shit, you send the next lyric. 

- ‘  I wanna touch on you You see me in my room’

-This time he didn’t hesitate to answer. 

- ‘Oh is my girl feelin’ needy?’

-Not yet at least. 

- ‘ Wish you were here right now All of the things I'd do ‘

-You assumed that his break should be over when you sent the text. 

-Just to tease him. 

-But to your surprise he messaged back rather quickly. 

- ‘Tsk tsk you just had to do this while I have practice didn’t you?’

- ‘I’ll have to punish you for that.....’

-Here we go!!!

-You knew that if you continued you would be in for it big time. 

-Even though you hadn’t been feeling particulary needy lately, messing with Tendou was always fun. 

-You were usually the one being teased but turning the tables every once in a while was healthy.

-Even though he wouldn’t become a blushing mess like you, you still liked getting this reaction from him. 

-Getting him worked up and impatient to get home was a bonus. 

-You knew sending the last lyric would be your downfall. 

-So you took a swan dive. 

- ‘I wanna get freaky on camera I love when we get freaky on camera’

TAG TEAM AY: @brattyquirks​ @the-arcana-fan-fic​ @angelwritings​

[se0kie]

chapter 6: get used to it

pairing: taehyung x reader

genre: fluff

tags/warnings: brief mentions of nervous breakdown, brief mentions of anxiety, mentions of sex

word count: 1.2k

greek gods au, poseidon!taehyung, marinebiologist!reader

summary: it’s difficult being a god. what with all the immortality, the decades bleeding into each other and losing every human being you come to care about. and taehyung’s lived, or whatever it is gods do, for a very, very long time. he thinks he needs help but the fates are being the mysterious, useless hags they’ve always been. how can a conservatory and it’s passionate, fiery owner possibly help him. turns out Y/N is the only mortal he’s met who’s ready to challenge him head on. of course it’s not like she knows her new intern is the king of the sea, maker of horses, the earthshaker, poseidon himself after all.

previous <> next ; series masterlist

You know you're overreacting, you know things are not as bad as you've made them out to be in your head, but still the tears keep coming and refuse to back down. You're slumped down into yourself, hugging your knees to your chest while your back rests against the cabinets of the laboratory.

Your father had called you earlier that week and told you that the yearly grant contract he had made with your organisation was soon going to have to end. The conservatory was in a location that experienced minimal traffic so to speak. There weren't very many different species of animals, the corals were not in as grave danger as the rest of the country and frankly, this turtle hatching project was the first interesting thing that had happened to Blue Side since you opened.

You were scared of him pulling the funding of the organisation. You couldn't just let Hamdeok slowly deteriorate into a condition that required special attention when you knew you could fix it before it all took a turn for the worse.

"The marine conservation society in Korea is just stretched too thin, sweetheart." Your father had told you. "The turtle project needs to go smoothly and give meaty results for me to continue to back you."

So here you were, crumbling under the pressure as you felt the years of expectations finally weigh down on you. You're so engrossed in trying to control your breathing that you don't even register the soft footsteps padding next to you. Strong arms encircle your frame as words of comfort fill your ears.

"You're gonna be okay, angel. Don't cry, I'm right here for you, don't cry." He whispers softly.

"I'm just s-so scared of failing them, Tae," you warble through the returning sobs.

"Failing who, sweetheart?"

"My dad... and my mom," you say.

"Oh, honey you're not going to fail them. I know you won't." He says.

"How can you be s-so sure of t-that?"

"Because I see you, Y/N," he whispers.

You can practically feel your heart beat out of your chest as you look up at him, brown eyes dazzling you and leaving you like a deer caught in headlights. His beautiful eyes swirling with so much emotion you feel powerless.

"You need to stop saying things like that! Oh my god!" you say, blushing bright red.

"Get used to it, loser," he jokes back, a slow grin forming on his lips as you wrap your arms around his neck and bury your face in his warmth. Maybe everything will be okay after all.

It's a beautiful weekend off from work when Taehyung convinces you to take the boat out to the water and spend the afternoon together. Although you know you've already crossed the line as friends, your feelings for him growing deeper than they would for someone you'd consider just a friend, you can't help but feel like you're diving right into a whirlpool.

Being around Taehyung makes you feel merciless, like standing in front of a force of nature and being so in awe that you're paralysed and all you can do is stare and stare and pray that you won't be consumed whole. The feeling scares you. Being in love wasn't something you're well versed in. The intensity of your emotions and the sheer number of them that you feel in his presence is enough to scare you shitless.

But you still wouldn't turn down an afternoon with him. Most of your time was spent in the conservation or at your home doing work for said conservation, you hadn't even had time to visit Taehyung's home. Although it did seem like he would rather be at yours.

You had successfully navigated the boat out to the middle of the ocean. Meanwhile, Taehyung had laid out the blanket with your lunch and glasses topped with chilled champagne. You sat down, back against the wall of the cabin and Taehyung's arm wrapped around your waist.

"Did you know you're kind of clingy?" you said.

"Hmm?"

"I mean, not in a bad way! Not at all, just that you really like touching. You're always holding me or touching my arms or something." You say with a smile, "What's that about?"

"Well, I guess I just really like how you feel." he deadpans.

You splutter your bubbly, "Taehyung! You can't just say something like that!"

"Something like what?" he questions, expression innocent as you try to determine whether he's being serious or making fun of you.

"It's just- it sounds sexual." You say, glancing at your feet as your cheeks grow hot with embarrassment.

"Well even if it was sexual why would you be so surprised? You're very sexy."

Your eyes grow wide as you stare back at him.

"What?! Why are you so scandalised, Y/N?" he questions.

"I- I've never been... complimented like that..." you confess.

"Wait, what?" He sits up straight as his face grows baffled. "You're telling me, nobody has ever called you sexy?!"

"Well when you say it like that it sounds bad..." you say meekly.

"Y/N," his voice stern.

You sigh as you start again, "Of course my friends have told me things like that y'know but I've never really had time for dating or being involved with anyone else... Nor have I really spent any time flirting with people..." your voice grows weak as you register the look on Taehyung's face.

"What? What's that stupid look you've got?" you ask.

"Y/N... Answer this for me please," he starts.

You raise your eyebrows in question.

"Are you– are you a... a virgin?" he asks.

"Um, yeah..." you answer.

"Oh my god," he says with a surprising grin on his face.

Uncertainty grows cold in your heart as you ask in a meek voice, "Is that a bad thing?"

He scoffs at you instead, "What?! Of course it's not a bad thing. I'm just surprised because you're one of the most gorgeous women I've ever seen in all the realms."

"What?"

"What 'what'?" he asks back.

"What realms? Why do you talk like you're thousands of years old?" you question.

"Oh, um... it's just a habit," he says, voice unsure.

"I'm not sure I believe you... You're always talking like you jumped out of a history book or a Jane Eyre novel or something." You say with eyebrows furrowed.

He stares into your eyes for so long you feel unnerved, his gorgeous brown eyes digging deep into your soul as if searching for the very essence of what makes you, you. You still can't look away though. You let him pull from you what he needs, hoping that it's enough for him to be honest with you.

You've noticed that Taehyung isn't very much like others his age, he came from seemingly nowhere and goes home every evening to someplace you don't know. You realise that there's not a lot you know about him, everything he's told you about himself has always been vague with little details.

"If I told you, you'd think I was crazy." He whispers.

"I'm already crazy about you," you reply with surprising honesty. You didn't think you'd reveal the exact intensity of your feelings towards him so soon but something about Taehyung makes you lose all sense of societal conviction.

"You might ship me off to a mental institution, honey," he chuckles lightly.

"I won't!" you reply, getting increasingly impatient.

He stares at you for a long minute, a small knowing smile tainting his lips as he looks down and back up at you.

"Even if I tell you I'm the millennia old god, Poseidon?"

taglist: @a-kookie-with-my-tae @btsxdoll @taffyteffy @marsclouds @happyhrsme @yoongifiess @gia-the-mermaid

a/n: i know i've been gone too long but im back !!! this chapter is longer than the ones i've written before so i hope you guys enjoy it!! things are finally getting interesting huh? ;)

[bxthharmon]

Never Go Home Again, Pt. III || JJ Maybanks x Reader

Words: 2336

Series Warnings: violence / talking about abuse / toxic relationships / talking about nudes sex tapes and sex / drugs / underage drinking

Pt. Warnings: Underage drinking / fighting / gun

Series Summary: A new girl, a shoebox of old memories, a past she’s trying to forget coincide with a hotheaded, but selfless, boy.  teenagers getting in way over their heads

Pt. Summary: Y/N is introduced to keggers and high speed boat chases in John B’s quest for treasure.

A/N: Okay so i’ve got like half of this series drafted, so updates shouldn’t be toooooooo slow. let me know if u wanna be tagged!!

Chapters linked in my masterlist.

“masterlist”

A kegger was both exactly what you thought it would be. It was full of booze, bad dancing and bad flirting, which was just about the only thing all teenagers had in common. You were laughing at something Pope was saying (some joke about dead bodies farting?) when Kiara interrupted you.

“What the hell is she doing here?” she nodded towards Sarah, who was sat on a tower, while Topper dried to persuade her to get down.

“Sarah?” you asked, thinking of how the two of you had been hanging out everyday until you met the pogues. “What’s wrong with Sarah?”

Before Kiara could respond, JJ shushed her, explaining that something had gone on between the two, and therefore never to ask in front of Kiara, earning him a middle finger.

You looked between the two girls, frustrated that your only two girl friends on the island hated each other. Kie wandered off, muttering about ‘pretentious kooks’, leaving JJ to ask you what was wrong.

“Sarah was my first friend here, we were hanging out like, every day until I met you guys. Just my luck that Kie hates her, right?” You sighed, leaning backwards onto him, and he wrapped an arm around your waist. “I get that y’all hate the kooks, I mean I don’t get on with rich people either, but Sarah was really nice to me, and she was fun. Why can’t her and Kie get on?”

JJ sighed, kissing your temple, “C’mon, let’s just go get wasted.”

You followed through with that plan. You and JJ must have had three blunts between you, and way too much alcohol. 

At some point, you left JJ’s side and ended up sitting down with Kie, talking about him.

“What the hell is going on with you and JJ?”

“Nothing.” 

“C’mon Y/N, you know that’s bullshit.”

“Look, Jay stays at my house every few days, and we’re close, that’s it.”

“Jay? He never lets anyone call him Jay. Y/N, the only reason he stays at John B’s is because they’ve been friends since 3rd Grade. He doesn’t sleep around people’s houses or invite them out with us unless he’s fully invested in the relationship, and that takes a lot with him. You can’t pretend there’s nothing there!”

“Okay…” you sighed, “yeah like, he keeps on pulling shit, and, like, making me think he likes me, but he hasn’t kissed me or anything! I mean, how do I take that?”

“He’s scared of fucking up. Look, he’s been through shit, him and his dad don’t get on, and he’s seen so many broken relationships, he wants to get it right with you.”

“Ya think?” you smiled to yourself.

“Hell yeah!” she laughed, “He’s batshit crazy over you!”

You grinned. “I don’t know man, and my dad’s like super anti-boys right now, and I’m scared this is all gonna go to shit, you know? Like, I got shit goin’ on at home,” she nodded, “like, my dad’s job is barely paying the bills and we gotta pay moving fees and shit as well, I’m gonna have to find a job so we don’t go under.”

“Hey, my dad’s always short on waiters at the Wreck, I’ll ask him to add you to the rotor.”

“Kie, you’re a lifesaver!”

You hadn’t been paying attention to your surroundings, and it was only when a crowd started gathering that you got up to investigate, pulling Kie with you.

You fought your way to JJ’s side, watching as Topper dunked John B under the waves. You went to intervene, but JJ pulled you back, muttering something like “I got this.”

Next thing you knew, there was a gun to Topper’s head.

People were screaming, JJ was saying something to Topper, but all you could focus on was how much of an impulsive idiot that boy was. You felt numb, only reacting properly when he fired shots into the air. One, two. 

You pulled the gun off him, not caring where it landed, and pounded into his chest, screaming at him for being an idiot, for being impulsive, for not thinking. He started to argue, but seeing the tears streaming down your face and how worked up you were, he pulled you in, cradling your head and shushing you, murmuring apology after apology. You stood there, consumed in his scent, as he held you.

At some point, when the beach was near empty, he pulled away, and you walked slowly, hand in hand, until you reached your house. “Wanna stay over?” you offered. He nodded, quiet, almost in shock, about what he’d done. You unlocked the door, pulled off your shoes, and crept up the stairs.

--

“Does anybody know how to dive?” Kiara asked, looking around. “Anybody?”

“It’s kind of a kook sport.” JJ pointed out.

“I read about it.” offered Pope, and you shook your head, exasperated.

“Great,” you mocked, “Pope read about it, so someone’s gonna die.”

“Look you put the thing in your mouth and breathe,” JJ motioned, “how hard could it be?”

“Well if you come up too fast nitrogen gets in your blood and you get the bends.” Pope said. 

“I watched some David Attenborough documentary in 5th Grade about fishers in, like, Malaysia getting the bends.” You added, “It was weird.”

“Bends,” JJ said, “Like bend over and-” he was giving you a full view of his ass.

“The bends kill you.” you clarified.

“Right.”

“I’ll dive.” you offered.

“Since when can you dive?” Kie asked.

“I don’t know, since I watched a documentary in 5th Grade?” you sighed.

“Y/N,” JJ shook his head, “You’re not diving.”

You glared at him, but didn’t fight.

“I’ll dive.” John B offered.

“I’m cool with that.” JJ shrugged.

Pope explained to John B where and when he needed to stop, so you pulled your top off and dived into the water to mark the spot.

Upon your entry, Kie asked “What was that about?”

“I don’t know,” JJ raised his eyebrows, “But I liked it. A lot.” 

Kie smacked his leg, and he laughed, watching your entry spot.

“When you’re down there, you look for the cargo hold,” JJ held up the little stick, “You stick this thing inside and you twist and pull.”

“Stick in, twist, pull.” John B affirmed.

You surfaced, swimming back to the boat, the boys looking over as JJ helped you out of  the water. “I tied my t-shirt to the anchor chain about ten feet down so you know where to stop.”

John B nodded, pulling the gear on and getting ready to dive. You watched as Kie kissed John B’s cheek before he went down, and you nudged her as she walked back. You gave her a questioning look and she shrugged, a bashful look adorning her.

“If you don’t ask, I won’t ask about you and JJ.” she bargained, and you watched as JJ’s head popped up at the sound of his name.

“There’s nothing to ask about.” you smirked. “Hey.” you nodded to the approaching boat, “Isn’t that the police? Let me do the talking.” 

You walked to JJ and Pope, JJ wrapping his arm around your shoulders in an attempt to be chill. Pope tied the boats together.

“Evening, Officer.” You greeted, Time for a light flirt, just enough to make him like you.

“Do I know you?” Shoupe asked you.

“Nah,” you shook your head, crossing your arms so your boobs pushed together slightly. “Just moved from LA, two weeks ago.”

“Well how are you kids doing? You know the marsh is closed?” 

“It is?” you asked, feigning innocence. Small bash of the eyelashes. “Why?”

“Conducting a search, a boat went down. See anything?”

“Nope,” you popped the ‘p’, “We’ll let ya know if we do.”

“Where’s your friend that you always hang with? Is he here?”

“Working.” you explained, smiling happily up at him.

“I’m gonna check your little boat out.” he stood up.

“Sure,” you cleared the way, ignoring the way JJ was watching you interact with the officer.

He picked up a life jacket, “Y’all got another one of these?”

“‘Course,” you shrugged, “in the hold, Show ‘im.” you beckoned to JJ, who obliged, opening up the hold.

“A’ight.” Shoupe nodded, standing on the edge of the boat, looking down to where John B was due to appear. You all shared a glance. “A’ight.” 

“We’ll let ya know if we see anythin’, Officer.” you smiled again. “And we’ll be on our way out soon, Sir.”

“Yes, you will.” the boat pulled away.

As soon as the boat was gone, you all leaned over the side.

“He’s definitely out of air.” Pope reminded you all.

As if summoned, he broke the surface, and the four of you made a collective sigh of relief.

“How’d it go down there?” JJ asked. “Find anything?”

“Did I find anything?” John B laughed, pulling out a duffel bag as he hoisted himself out.

“There we go!” JJ grinned, taking the bag, “that’s my boy!”

“You okay?” Kie asked.

“I ran out of air.” John B said. Pulling himself into the boat.

“Yeah the cops were up here but, uh, turns out Y/N knows how to lie pretty fuckin’ well.” Pope explained.

“Yeah, you kinda missed the show, brother.” JJ agreed, winking at you. 

“Jeez, chill,” you rolled your eyes, “It’s just practice.” JJ raised an eyebrow.

“Hey guys,” Kie called, “Guys, bogey, two o’clock.”

You looked up, “Y’all recognise that boat?”

“Never seen it.” Kie looked back at you. “What are they doing back here? The marsh is closed.”

“I don’t know, but let’s not stick around to find out.” JJ reasoned.

“Should we wait on them?”

“No, we’re not gonna wait on them!”

JJ pulled in the anchor, yelling not to wait for him, and John B began to steer away, everyone talking at once.

“Are they coming for us?

“Maybe they’re fishing.”

“Go, go, go, go!”

“Into the marsh!”

“Let’s go!”

“I’m going, act natural.”

You watched as the boat followed you into the marsh.

“They’re following.” You pointed out. “JB, hurry the fuck up.” 

“I am!” came the response.

The boat sped up. “Dude is that a fucking gun?” you shouted, and suddenly JJ was on top of you, pulling you down as a gunshot fired.

“Shit! John B, get down!”

“Oh my God we’re gonna die!”

You rolled out from under JJ, ignoring his efforts to grab you, taking a rope and net off Kie. You stood up, ignoring the shouts from your friends as you worked your way past John B to the sturn and threw the rope and net out, behind the boat, stopping the boat behind you. Breathing out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, feeling JJ grab you, checking for blood before crushing you in a hug.

He didn’t break contact until you were on solid ground, standing around the bag, waiting for John B to open the bag. 

“Can you please just open the bag?” Pope yelled.

“Jeez, Pope, that was a rare outburst of emotion.” JJ mocked.

“Okay, you guys are literally killing me with anticipation.” he groaned. “Just open the bag. We almost died over this.”

You all watched intently as John B pulled a bag from the bag, and then a waterproof container from that bag, and finally a compass from that. Disappointed, you stepped back.

“Oh wow,” You snarked, “Yup, that’s about right. Good job, everybody, we found a compass.” You noticed how John B kept staring at the compass, and sighed. “Dude, what? It’s not worth anything.”

“This was my father’s.” he murmured. 

Now, perhaps it was the fact that you hadn’t spent the last nine months dealing with the fact that John B’s father was missing, but you felt out of place amongst your friends’ reactions.

--

You settled into the sand, arm touching JJ’s, and feet thrown out below you. 

“Something about hanging out with you and your friends seems to be getting me in trouble.” you sighed, not noticing the way he gazed at you, adoration painted onto his features.

“Blame JB.” he reasoned.

“You say that like you’re not the biggest trouble-maker in that group.” you giggle, and he smirked.

“Nah, I don’t know what you’re on about, man.” he smirked.

“Jay, did you just call me ‘man’?” you laughed.

“Maybe.” he looks at you again, watching you laugh. You roll your head to look at him, your nose millimetres away from his. In the dark, the only details he can make out are your out line and the glitter in your eyes, shining with glee. 

You take each other in, basking in the moment, John B’s drama and your thoughts and fears dissipating, however momentarily. He reached up, slowly, and took a strand of hair, tucking it loosely behind your ear. He watches how your silhouette moves, and he can picture your blush. You blink, the shine of your eyes disappearing for a split second. He watches you turn your face back to the sky, pointing up. 

“That’s Cassiopeia.” you point out the ‘W’ shape in the sky.

“I’ve heard of that.” JJ murmurs, feeling your body shake with laughter beside him.

“The vain queen.” you sighed. “She boasted of her beauty, and in his anger, the God Poseidon condemned her kingdom to attacks by, like, water nymphs or something? To end the attacks, she sacrificed her daughter, Andromeda, who was saved by the God Perseus. They married, and at their wedding, one of Andromeda’s suitors tried to claim her back, but was turned to stone by the head of Medusa, which Perseus used to kill the suitor. Cassiopeia and King Cepheus didn’t close their eyes, so in light of their death, they were made to hang in the sky.” 

“How the hell do you know that?” JJ chuckled, and you laughed.

“I don’t even know.” you smiled. “And that’s the Big Dipper, or Ursa Major. And that one there is Orion.” You looked back at JJ, “What?”

“You’re beautiful.”

Tags: @tangledinsparkles​ @jellyfishbeansontoast​ @lolitstiana​ @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch​ @teamnick​

[harrysbbby]

Get To Know Me Tag

so i have a lot of new followers so i thought i’d make a tag for y’all to get to know the woman behind the writing ahaha

if you want to use these questions for you own tag please do and tag me in it so i can get to know you

name? rikki

age? 20

from? Australia

current obsession? obx, obviously. also how I met your mother- ive never seen it before and im watching it for the first time

Favourite food to eat when you’re happy? Nutella, by itself, on a spoon. also, bananas

Favourite food to eat when you’re sad? Nutella, by itself, on a spoon. also, lots of Chinese food.

What’s your favourite memory? going to the beach in grades like 9 and 10 with my two best friends for a week every summer. it was by far one of my happiest times.

Post a pic of you when you’re happy.

me at a festival 

me camping at the beach with my best friend of over 10 years

What emoji speaks to you most? 🙈

Favourite episode of OBX? ep 7. jj maybank. need I say more 🥺❤️

Why did you start writing (or doing whatever you specialise here on Tumblr)? I always really liked fan fiction, and I love the ones that inserted a character into the story and followed it through, and made it believable. They were hard to find, so I started writing them for myself.

Saver or spender? Saver 110%. im sooo rigid with money but im learning to not be so stressed 😌

First concert? One Direction bby, peep the username

How many concerts have you been to? currently 36 with one booked, hoping it doesn't get cancelled 🤞🏼

What’s the best book you’ve ever read? Allegiant (the 3rd divergent book) was so good I remember pulling an all nighter to finish reading it. Also Big Sky by Kate Atkinson is really good.

Who’s you OBX OTP? kiara and jj tbh. if they do it well, and slow burn it a lil more they would be AMAZING

What’s your ambition? find financial stability, get a good job, make some friends so close they feel like soulmates and travel the world, learning new things and being happy

Post a pic/video that shows your personality. 

I will be posting it after this, it deserves it’s own post

https://harrysbbby.tumblr.com/post/620724494599880704/post-a-video-that-shows-your-personality?is_liked_post=1

Place or thing on your bucket list? cliche but id like to sky dive. Machu Picchu would be cool, id also love to go to Paris and Russia. 

School or street smart? I am the ultimate of both ahah

Which character do you relate to most? if I was any character from any series or movie ever, I would be Hermione Granger mixed with Lydia from Teen Wolf, with just a splash of Sarah Cameron. I think, idk you tell me. 

What’s something exciting you’ve done in the past week? I turned 20 and am hosting a bday party now that restrictions allow it 🤩

Tag someone who’s nice. @kiarasflowr​

Tag someone who’s funny. @tcmhollnd​ @obx-writings​

Tag someone who supports your work. @angellissy​ @spilledtee​

Tag someone you support. I try to be supportive to as many ppl as possible but recently its been @rretrophilee​ @thegeekyblondegirlwholovesstars​ @ad-infinitums​ and @tomfreakinghollandneedsaoscar​

And finally, how long have you been on Tumblr for? since March 2013.... I know AHAHAH 

[ahh-fxck]

Warrior’s Blues Chapter 9: Mockingbird

Hello, my lovelies! Here is the next chapter of Warrior’s Blues! In it we feature nervous Jaskier making comfort food while Yennefer finally lets him in on the big secret with her marriage to Geralt. Yennefer lives her best life making the poor bastard nervous again, and Geralt getting his feet a little more under him. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it!

A huge thank you to @stressedspidergirlsfandomblog​ who is the co-creator and beta of this fic. Your patience and hard work are SO appreciated you don’t even know <3 <3 <3

Ao3 link here

Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed from the tag list!! This fic updates roughly every two weeks.

@astouract​ @smolpoe​ @yes-im-the-violin-girl​ @ladyknight-keladry​

“Are you telling me that you’re not here to kill me? I admit I was a little worried when you showed up without Geralt.” He flashes her a lopsided little grin, trying to ease the tension of the situation.

“Afraid not. I would happily murder you, but Geralt would get upset…” she sighs, then smirks. “Step out of line and you die, but keep me happy and play your cards right? Then as far as I’m concerned, you’re free to pursue him. If you want him.” She takes another sip of her coffee.

Jaskier blinks, caught so off guard that he finds himself actually panicking a little. Wife not killing him? This is not in the usual script. Possibly still being able to see the unbelievably hot husband? Mind broken. He pulls his coffee in close against his chest for the warmth, trying to restart his brain. In the background of his mind is a steady stream of whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck repeating in circles.  

Yennefer laughs, watching his face journey through a number of stages of confusion. Eventually, she takes pity on him. “Breathe,” she quips. He sucks in a breath and looks at her, blue eyes wide and startled, and she gives him an amused grin. “So. Are you going to let me grill you, or should I just leave now?” she asks with a teasing twist of her lips.

Jaskier puffs, then sputters, “Grilling? Grilling’s fine.” Still looking like he’s been hit between the eyes, he turns away and sets his coffee cup down on the counter near the stove, then opens the fridge and begins nervously pulling fruit out and setting it on the counter. When strawberries and blueberries have been pulled out, he walks across the kitchen to hanging baskets and pulls down an apple and a banana. If he was going to be interrogated, he was damn well going to have some comfort food while it was happening.

Yennefer watches with amusement, sipping her coffee. “You crossed some lines by jumping into bed with Geralt so quickly, why don’t you start there?” she says sweetly, enjoying the way he winces.

Chapter 9: Mockingbird

The road outside the bar was quiet. She pulled her black blazer up around her shoulders, neatening her outfit in a storefront window. Then she eyed her reflection critically. When she was satisfied, she approached the door of the bar. From the outside, the place looked like a dive, but when she pushed inside she saw that it was actually a neat, well-appointed little space. The floor was wooden, and brass fixtures winked in the dimness. There was a subtle, pervasive odor of cumin lingering in the air, a memory of good cooking mixing with the more typical bar smells of spilled beer and cigarettes. Sitting in the far corner was a pale, broad-shouldered young man with ice blond hair shorn in a military cut. He was dressed in a plain tan shirt and khaki pants.

He raised his head when he heard the door. The place was almost deserted. Despite this, there was a cozy, well-lived feeling to the neat seating and lovingly polished tables. When he saw her, his face lit up. Yennefer had been running a little late, and his anxiety had been starting to get the best of him. 

“Yennefer,” he rose to his feet to greet her as she crossed the room. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.” 

“I’m the one who asked you for a drink, Geralt, why wouldn’t I come?” She gave him an irritated look. She slung her purse off of her shoulder and hung it on the chair, putting herself bodily between the young man and his attempt to pull the chair out for her. Her violet eyes flashed as she fixed him with a look that very clearly said, ‘don’t touch.’ 

His eyes widened, and he gingerly took one step back, then another, waiting until her expression softened before he stilled again. He shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other, then gestured vaguely towards the bar. “What can I get you?” Despite her sharp temper and sharper tongue, or perhaps because of it, Geralt had become fascinated with her as they worked together. She was whip-smart, merciless, and graceful in equal measures, and he was drawn to her like a moth to a flame even though she didn’t seem to like him very much. It had made his week when she’d grudgingly asked him out for a drink to get to know him better, but he hadn’t been certain she liked him enough to actually follow through. 

She eyed him impatiently as she considered. She found herself wishing he would stop looking at her like a nervous puppy, and she stared at him in vaguely concealed irritation. If anything though, the stare made it worse. She came to a decision and pulled the chair out neatly, seating herself at the table. “Arak, please. On the rocks.” 

“Chalav shel Ariot,” he said with a quick little smile. “Sure, I’ll be back.” 

She cocked her head at him, eyeing him curiously as he turned to leave. Milk of Lions, another name for the liquor arak. It was a common enough term among the locals, but she didn’t think she’d heard anyone else on base use it. 

As he returned a moment later, she sat back skeptically and took her glass from him. He sat down across from her with a beer and a shot glass full of clear undiluted arak. Her own was white, the sugars transformed by contact with the water from the ice. She drew her fingers along the cool sides of her glass, noticing that he didn’t seem to be making eye contact. Instead he watched her fingers trace beads of moisture. 

“Is this what you do all day? When you’re not being a pain in my ass?” She asked, observing the softness of his face up close. He usually had a stern expression. It was easy to miss how handsome he actually was, with wide topaz eyes and a cupid’s bow lip. To her surprise, he smiled crookedly and looked up at the ceiling fixtures, taking in the brass on the lights and dark iron brackets. 

“Yeah. This is where I spend a lot of my time. Coën likes it here too.” 

“He mentioned,” she replied dryly. “More than once.” She took a slow sip of the arak, the sharp burn of the aniseed flavored liquor pleasant across her tongue. 

“What brings you to this part of the world?” He asked quietly, now studying the table. His big hands were wrapped around his beer mug, but they gave the impression of nervousness stilled, like he would normally be in motion but was concealing it. Most people wouldn’t have noticed, but Yennefer had a keen eye for body language. Though she wouldn’t have readily admitted it, she’d been observing him closely for some time now. They had spent a lot of time together, both in and out of the field, and it had given her time to catalogue his tells.  She crossed her legs and considered his question, examining her glass. 

“I was assigned back here after college because I speak a couple of the local languages,” she said. “I grew up Ashdod, down the coast from here.” 

He licked his lips, nodded, then assayed a reply in Hebrew. <<Where did you go to college?>>

She frowned, putting her glass down and leaning towards him. <<What did you just say?>>

<<You said you came back after college. Where did you attend school?>> he tried again, shooting her a hopeful look over the edge of his mug. 

Surprised, she sat back. <<University of London. Why?>> She’d known from their field work that he knew at least a little of the local languages, enough to get by, but she had apparently underestimated how fluent he actually was.

<<I was wondering where your accent came from. You have an Israeli accent but you don’t sound quite like the locals. I thought the UK maybe..>> He took a long swallow of his beer. <<I graduated from Lexington Military College.>>

<<I know,>> she said wryly. <<I did a little digging after you got pinned to my ass by your CO.>> 

He shook his head and flashed another crooked grin, chuckling. <<Sorry about that. I don’t think he likes me very much.>>

<<Yes, well, I don’t like you very much either,” She replied, without any real heat. 

He tilted his glass at her ironically, then took a drink. <<Why the invitation, then?>> he inquired, lifting his gaze and catching her eyes with his own for the first time this whole conversation. A small shock ran through both of them, and she held his gaze for only a moment before looking off to the side, feeling oddly off balance. 

<<Coën kept insisting that I should get to know you, since we’re stuck working together so often.>>

He smiled at the table top. <<Coën’s a good guy. I like him.>> 

<<He is.>> She admitted, taking another swallow of arak. The burn was pleasant, smoother now that the ice had begun to melt into the alcohol. Rolling liquor on her tongue, she considered him with renewed intensity. <<How did you learn Hebrew?>>

Golden eyes came up and played briefly across her face, then dropped off to the side to study a nail in the floor. <<When I heard I was being assigned out here I picked up some books. And…>> he shrugged, taking a long swallow of his beer. <<I listen to the locals. I try to talk with them. David corrects me a lot.>> With a jerk of his head, he indicated the bartender quietly puttering around behind the bar across the room from them. 

She frowned, leaning towards him again. <<How much time did you have? That doesn’t seem right.>> 

<<Uhm… A year? Less? Not long.>> He replied, shrugging. <<I got more serious about it after I was assigned to you. I know people enjoy hearing their own language. I thought you might like it.>> His lips quirk as he feels her gaze on him, feeling put on the spot. 

Despite herself, she found the corners of her lips tugging with a smile. <<That’s insane,>> she said. <<I don’t believe you.>>

He shrugged, tossing back the last of his beer. <<Believe what you want.>> He chased it with the shot of arak, then shook his head to clear his burning sinuses. 

She leaned back, taking her glass with her and cradling it close to her chest.  <<Do you just speak, or do you read, too?>>

Licking his lips, he nodded. When he spoke again, she stared in astonishment. 

<<Not the peace of a cease-fire,

not even the vision of the wolf and the lamb,

but rather

as in the heart when the excitement is over

and you can talk only about a great weariness.

I know that I know how to kill,

that makes me an adult.

And my son plays with a toy gun that knows

how to open and close its eyes and say Mama.

A peace

without the big noise of beating swords into ploughshares,

without words, without

the thud of the heavy rubber stamp: let it be

light, floating, like lazy white foam.

A little rest for the wounds—

who speaks of healing?

(And the howl of the orphans is passed from one generation

to the next, as in a relay race:

the baton never falls.)

Let it come

like wildflowers,

suddenly, because the field

must have it: wildpeace.>> 

<<Where on earth did you learn that?>> She asked after a long, shocked silence. 

He shrugged awkwardly.. <<I saw the book in a pile of your things while you were working. Yehuda Amichai, Not For the Sake of Remembering. Uh. I got my hands on a copy of it. I thought you might like that one. I like it.>>

<<It’s my favorite from that whole book,>> she replied, taken aback. Not even her cameraman Coën, her closest friend, knew that. She tossed back the rest of her glass, taking the time to gather her suddenly scattered thoughts.  

<<Why are you a soldier? With a mind like that, you’re wasted in the army.>>

The smile he gave the table, brief though it was, was like sunlight flashing across still water. 

<<Thanks, I think?>> He toyed idly with his empty glass. <<I’m uh, in the army because my old man’s a Colonel and he raised me to follow his footsteps. Ran the base out in Powidz, Poland until they forced him to retire. I guess I always was headed here.>> Shrugging, he stood. <<Want another round?>>

<<Please,>> she said, offering her empty glass. He nodded and took it, returning a moment later with new glasses of beer and arak. Placing the milky glass of liquor in front of her, he sat back down. 

<<Why are you a journalist? Especially writing about what you do… interviewing who you do? It’s fucking dangerous.>> He leaned back in his chair, holding his beer against his chest and eyeing her curiously. The tension in his body was starting to fade, and he looked both kinder and younger as a result. 

She felt a curious warmth, looking at him. It was similar to the burn of the alcohol, but it tingled in her hands, in her chest. Taking a long swallow of liquor, she considered his question. They eyed each other curiously. <<I think I did it because I hate people lying.>> She waved her hand as she took another sip, explaining, <<Which, granted, makes what I do for a living ironic.>> He nodded and chuckled, taking a swallow from his mug while he listened. 

<<Um… I think I do it because I get to write everything down. Even if what I publish is… what it is, what I do to get paid, I know that somewhere there is a true and real account of what happened. What was said. Who was saying it and why. I know it’s written down somewhere, impossible to erase. And every now and then I get to really destroy someone awful, which makes some of the bullshit worth it.>>

<<Good answer,>> he said, eyebrows going up. <<Not sure what I was expecting, but I like that. You’re ferocious. I love watching you scare the shit out of people around here.>>

She laughed, genuinely and openly. It was the first time he’d heard her laugh like that, and he liked it. He never wanted her to stop. 

The road is wide and quiet, shaded by drooping, dusty trees. They are big, old, their gnarled branches weaving together to create a dim canopy that covers the early morning road and sidewalks in flickering shadows. The houses lining the street are old Victorian and Craftsman style homes with white gables. 

Yennefer drives slowly along it, violet eyes intent as she studies the neighborhood. The hum of the rental car’s engine is quiet as she rolls past house after house, scanning for the proper number. The first thing she spots even before that is Geralt’s battered old truck. It sits in the driveway of a simple blue house with a white wooden staircase spiraling up the outside. Next to it is a small white car with black songbirds printed on the trunk, done in pen-and-ink style art. They carry flowers, small splashes of color against the plain background. Yellow buttercups, blue cornflowers, red poppies, even blue forget-me-nots are carried in their beaks. 

Flicking on the turn signal, she waits for a green van to slowly pass going the other way before she pulls up in the driveway behind Geralt’s truck. Pulling the parking brake, she leans back in her seat to rest and gather herself. It had been a long, emotional night and she was still jet lagging terribly. Still, she thought that getting out while Geralt was still asleep was probably for the best, so she had risen early to take care of things.

When she gets out of the car a wall of sticky, humid air hits her immediately. With a brief expression of displeasure she eyes the sky, then turns around and retrieves her purse from the car. She pauses to flick open her compact, checking over her appearance. Despite her exhaustion, she is impeccably appointed as always, black pinstripe suit pressed, white blouse spotless, makeup crisp even in the soggy heat. She tucks a hair back into place, snaps the compact closed, and locks up the car. 

Striding up the driveway, she follows the concrete path around the side of the house to the front door. As she goes, she curiously studies the place that Geralt has been living. The walkway is plain, lined on either side with a leafy, ill-kept rock garden that has seen better days. Many of the rocks are painted, little friendly blobs of swirled color intermixing with odd little symbols and tiny hand-painted fairies from children’s movies randomly amongst the plain stones. The door itself is wooden, with a rectangular stained glass panel in the middle containing a simple diamond and square motif typical of the town during the era that the house was constructed. She rings the bell. 

“Just a moment!” She hears a voice call from the depths of the house. The door opens a beat later, revealing Jaskier. He gives her an uncertain look, hesitates, then opens the door wide so that he can face her directly.  

He is wearing long blue shorts that look like they belonged to a suit before someone shortened them and took to them with a bedazzler. There is a swirling pattern of rhinestones up each leg, with little hearts winking on each of his hips amidst the swirls. His big loose button down shirt is white, with splashes of blue watercolor style flowers all over it. Near the breast of the shirt on the left is a silk screened mockingbird in black and white, with a little curl of rhinestones coming from its beak like it is exhaling them in song. He looks tired, with shadows smudged under his eyes, and his hair is damp from the shower. 

“Can I help you?” He queries, wary. It had been a long, shitty night full of self-recrimination for him that had left him feeling like the middle of him had been scooped out, leaving him empty and sore. He’d been expecting to see Yennefer today, but he didn’t think anything could prepare him for dealing with her again. He was a grown adult, though, and if he had to face the music, he would do it with as much dignity as he could muster.

She looks him up and down, considering him. Of all the types of men she’d expected Geralt to go in for, someone as colorful as this wasn’t even on the list. It’s oddly sweet that her quiet, withdrawn husband would be attracted to someone so different than himself. Too bad he picked an idiot. “I’m here to talk,” she announces, her eyes flashing. It is hard to resist intimidating him just a little more, especially since she isn’t entirely sure she likes him yet.  

He presses his lips together, a flash of pain and worry going through his eyes before vanishing behind a carefully constructed neutral expression. “Of course,” he says, and steps back to gesture her inside with a broad motion of his arm towards the kitchen. “Please come in. I just made a pot of coffee, would you like some?” 

“Please,” she replies, stepping past him into the house. The inside is gleaming, practically spotless, and smells like orange oil. Spotting the rack of neatly stacked shoes next to the door, she toes off her black pumps next to it. Then she strolls across the house to the kitchen island and seats herself confidently on one of the tall stools. 

Jaskier follows her with rounded shoulders, giving her a respectfully wide berth and watching her every move. He serves them both a cup of coffee, then brings out the little buttercup dishes full of sugar and cream and sets them on the counter near her. She smiles but otherwise ignores them, taking a sip of the black coffee. It’s good coffee, complex and almost sweet at its finish. As she rolls the beverage on her tongue, she looks Jaskier up and down again.

He has come to rest with his back up against the fridge, one foot up on it, knee bent, sleepily sipping his coffee. His expression is still wary as he waits for her to begin talking, cautious of her temper after yesterday’s encounter. When the silence stretches out a little too long, he stirs. “Look, if this is about his stuff, I can take you upstairs to get it…”

She shakes her head, waving this statement away. “Not necessary. Not right now, anyway.” She smiles around her cup as he frowns, as if he’s not sure he heard her correctly.

“What?” 

“I said that won’t be necessary yet. Hence,” she says, cocking her head and locking eyes with him, “why we need to talk.”

Jaskier gives her a long look of puzzlement. Pushing off of the fridge, he pours some sugar and a generous splash of cream into his coffee. “I’m afraid I’m a bit lost,” he admits, a worried note entering his voice. She didn’t want the boxes, so what did she want? Was he in trouble or not? 

Yennefer smiles again, leaning back with her cup of coffee held close. “Did Geralt talk about me at all while he was here?” Jaskier cautiously shakes his head no, taking a sip of his coffee. He goes to say something but she gently cuts him off. “Fine. Geralt should tell you most of this, but nothing is going to make sense unless I throw you a bone first,” she smirks. 

Jaskier nods, mystified but listening. Normally, this was the part where the spouse started demanding blood, not throwing proverbial bones. Drawing his mug in close against his chest, he leans against the counter. 

“I’m asexual.” Yennefer explains bluntly. “He and I don’t have a sexual relationship. We married for our daughter’s sake, but we’ve never been,” she gropes for the right phrase, “physically in love. We’re as close as two people can be…” She pauses and takes a sip of coffee, giving Jaskier a direct look over the edge of her mug. “But our relationship is unusual.” 

Jaskier’s eyebrows shoot up, but he has the good sense for once to remain quiet, allowing her to continue. Daughter? With a wife Geralt didn’t have sex with? This conversation had taken a hard left turn, and he felt like he was mentally scrambling to catch up. He had so many questions. Instead of letting his nervous tongue get away from him though, he takes a long swallow of his drink.

Yennefer lowers her mug, enjoying Jaskier’s obvious puzzlement. The pleasure she feels is bittersweet, though. Sex or no, Geralt had been hers for a long time. Her heart ached a little to think that she might have to share him with the tall, elfin man in front of her. Deep down though, she had always hoped he might find someone. She draws her fingers along the side of the mug, hesitating, but finally she says, “I always hoped he was going to find someone special… eventually.” Eyeing Jaskier, she flashes him a sly look. “Maybe someone like you.” 

The way Yennefer looks at Jaskier makes his stomach flip. What the hell is she saying? He thought she was here to terrorize him again and collect Geralt’s stuff. Now it is starting to sound like she is implying he still has a chance with Geralt. He feels caught somewhere between a sudden weird hope and the gnawing guilt of knowing he’s crossed lines he can’t uncross with this woman, mysterious marriage arrangement or no. He pushes off of the counter and leans forward to spoon more sugar into his coffee, trying to stir his nerves away.  “I don’t think I understand,” he grimaces, shaking off the spoon and setting it aside on a little saucer. 

“No, I would be surprised if you did,” she chuckles and takes a sip of her coffee. “The reason I’m here is because it seems like he’s become very attached to you.”

Jaskier gives a bashful, confused smile. “I… I like him too,” he admits softly. “Quite a bit.”

Yennefer gives him a measuring look, but a smile is slowly creeping up her lovely features. “I should hope so.” Leaning forward onto her elbows, she fixes him with a serious gaze. “When Geralt and I got married, I knew he was going to meet someone someday, and I didn’t want him to feel guilty about it. So we discussed it, and we decided a few things.” She holds up fingers, ticking them off as she goes. “One, that he is free to choose his own lovers. Two, that said lover doesn’t get to meet his family unless he’s serious about them. And three, I get to have a long talk with anyone he does want to bring home.” 

She pauses again, giving Jaskier another measuring look. “While our current apartment being in England makes bringing you home rather difficult, we can still have that long talk. I want to know more about you. If anyone is going to be seeing my husband, I have a right to know who they are.” She pauses, obviously unimpressed as she looks him from head to toe “Especially if they’re foolish enough to jump in bed with someone without asking questions first.” 

Jaskier gapes, at a loss for words. He fiddles the coffee cup nervously, mind reeling. The jab stings, but he knows he deserves it, so he leaves it. Taking a swallow of his sweet creamy coffee grounds him, the sweetness biting through some of his confusion. “Are you telling me that you’re not here to kill me? I admit I was a little worried when you showed up without Geralt.” He flashes her a lopsided little grin, trying to ease the tension of the situation.

“Afraid not. I would happily murder you, but Geralt would get upset…” she sighs, then smirks. “Step out of line and you die, but keep me happy and play your cards right? Then as far as I’m concerned, you’re free to pursue him. If you want him.” She takes another sip of her coffee.

Jaskier blinks, caught so off guard that he finds himself actually panicking a little. Wife not killing him? This is not in the usual script. Possibly still being able to see the unbelievably hot husband? Mind broken. He pulls his coffee in close against his chest for the warmth, trying to restart his brain. In the background of his mind is a steady stream of whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck repeating in circles.  

Yennefer laughs, watching his face journey through a number of stages of confusion. Eventually, she takes pity on him. “Breathe,” she quips. He sucks in a breath and looks at her, blue eyes wide and startled, and she gives him an amused grin. “So. Are you going to let me grill you, or should I just leave now?” she asks with a teasing twist of her lips. 

Jaskier puffs, then sputters, “Grilling? Grilling’s fine.” Still looking like he’s been hit between the eyes, he turns away and sets his coffee cup down on the counter near the stove, then opens the fridge and begins nervously pulling fruit out and setting it on the counter. When strawberries and blueberries have been pulled out, he walks across the kitchen to hanging baskets and pulls down an apple and a banana. If he was going to be interrogated, he was damn well going to have some comfort food while it was happening.

Yennefer watches with amusement, sipping her coffee. “You crossed some lines by jumping into bed with Geralt so quickly, why don’t you start there?” she says sweetly, enjoying the way he winces. 

Jaskier putters nervously with the fruit, setting up a cutting board and knife, then he bends over and pulls a stand mixer out of a cabinet, setting it up on the counter. The movement gives him time to catch up to the conversation. As he fiddles the paddle off of the mixer and goes to hunt for the attachment he is looking for, he says, “I’ve been thinking about that a great deal myself. And you’re absolutely correct,” he tosses his hair out of his eyes and glances across the room, apologetic. “I handled things with Geralt inappropriately. I’m sorry.” His lips thin out as he presses them together, looking tired and angry with himself. “I let my feelings get ahead of me sometimes. It’s not my best trait.”

“Clearly not,” she replies wryly, slightly mollified by his apology but still unimpressed. “So why did you do it?”

"I…" he returns to the stand mixer, fitting a whisk attachment onto the end of it. Then he takes the bowl out and wipes it down with a damp cloth in the sink, nervously scrubbing away miniscule specks of dust.  “That’s complicated. If I answer you honestly right out the gate, I’m worried I’m going to sound crazy to you, which is the last thing I want right now.” His lips quirk in a brief, bitter smile. “I’ve already done quite enough damage, thank you. So...” he pauses and heaves a sigh, trying to gather his thoughts. “I’m going to tell you a little about myself first. Maybe help you understand?” Bright blue eyes meet hers for a moment, giving her an uncertain look. She meets gaze unflinchingly until he drops it to study the bowl in his hands. He shakes his head and returns it to the mixer stand, then goes over to the fridge. 

“Fine,” she replies, taking a slow sip of her coffee. “What do you want me to know?” 

“Well…” he bends over and sticks his head into the refrigerator, chewing his lip. “I’ve been a part of the queer community since I was a teenager. And,” he grimaces, hunting for something, “I was twenty years old when HIV was first identified. There was an outbreak at Fire Island, are you familiar?” Finding the carton of heavy cream hidden at the back of the fridge, he snags it with a satisfied noise and straightens.

“Geralt told me you were there. About your friends.” Yennefer replies quietly. “I’m sorry.” And she genuinely is, no matter how else she might feel about Jaskier. Being at the center of something like that leaves marks on people. She’d been all over the world in her job and seen many types of trauma, and the HIV epidemic had scared her to the bone wherever she encountered it.  

“Right. Well then, I don’t need to tell you the rest. Good.” Returning to the stand mixer, he dumps in cream and flicks the mixer on at a relatively slow speed. “What’s important about it, that I want you to understand, is that, in my experience queers are already not terribly good at staying in one another’s lives after the…” he waves his hand searchingly. “The romantic spark has passed. And the few people that I thought could be constants, slipped through my fingers without recourse.” Turning, he riffles through one of the nearby cabinets and retrieves vanilla, confectioner’s sugar, and bourbon. “So when I say that I don’t expect people to stay around long, I want you to understand what I mean.” 

She frowns, understanding dawning. “You didn’t expect him to stay.”

“No, darling. I’m afraid not. When I met Geralt… Ah. I didn’t expect much to come of it. While I’m not running a fuck-and-release program,” he cuts her a sharp look over his shoulder, “I must say I wasn’t expecting him to be around long. Which is why I didn’t ask nearly as many questions as I should have. I wanted to leave him what little peace he had… I… I felt like prying would have made things worse.” He trails off into a brief silence, measuring vanilla and bourbon and dumping them into the mixer. 

When he looks at her again, his expression is deeply worried. “He looked like he was in a lot of pain.”  

She grimaces at the pointed comment, hiding it with a sip from her coffee mug. Irritated that she’d let him get to her, she schools her face into a carefully neutral expression until he finishes speaking. She remembers Geralt’s distress the night before, and a flash of worry and sadness crosses her face. Pain was the understatement of the century. She’s still not sure she would even be here, but for that. Geralt was in danger, and she would do just about anything to make it better.

Taking a deep breath, he measures sugar and then starts carefully sifting it into the moving mixer with a small sieve. “I thought… why make it worse for him when he’ll have moved on shortly anyway? I thought... “ he shrugs uncomfortably, setting aside the sieve and turning up the speed on the stand mixer by increments. “I thought, he’ll stay for a few weeks, get his first few paychecks, find his own place, and be gone. And not long after that, he’ll probably find a new job, and that will be that. Good deed done.” 

“That’s… questionable, but fine. I’ll leave that alone for now. It still doesn’t explain why you started fucking him within twenty four hours of meeting him,” she points out, unimpressed. 

“No, you’re right.” He replies, shaking his head and pulling a face. “And this… is where I sound a little crazy, and I hope you’ll forgive me.” Once the mixer is at the proper speed, he turns to another cabinet and pulls out a big bowl, which he sets near the cutting board. “Um.” 

His stomach does a double flip as he tries to summon the words, feeling her violet gaze boring into his back. He begins to speak, stutters into silence, and then tries again. “I have… spent a long time ah, vigorously jousting in the lists of love, so to speak,” he observes wryly, starting to top and halve the strawberries, tossing each one into the bowl as he finishes. “Mm. And I’ve known many different kinds of love, as a result. Some, admittedly, deeper than others,” he gives a rueful chuckle. Behind him, Yennefer smirks. 

“But with Geralt…” Jaskier pauses, feeling his throat close up a little bit with sheer nerves. Taking the cutting board to the trash, he sweeps the strawberry heads into the bin and then returns to the counter to start processing the banana, peeling it and chopping it. 

“My life has always felt like a hurricane. Like there is a hurricane blowing around me and I’m just trying not to get swept away with all of the rest of the debris. But- I’m sorry, I know this is insane, oh, I sound like a crazy person. But when I’m around him, it feels like…” he heaves a shaky sigh. “It feels like the center of the hurricane found me. When he’s nearby I feel like the whole world goes silent and still. All the other madness is still whirling around the outside edges, but where he is, there’s this intense quiet… Silence so loud it makes my whole body just ring with it, no matter what he’s doing. It’s the most beautiful feeling. And I’ve never felt that around another human being before. Not a single solitary one. And… it was terribly impulsive of me, and selfish, and I shouldn’t have done it… but I wanted to wrap myself up in that feeling for as long as I could before he vanished, too.” 

He trails off, dumping the chopped banana into the bowl. Then he glances at the stand mixer. The cream is starting to stiffen, but hasn’t reached a proper consistency yet. He turns back to the cutting board, starting to process the apple now. “I know that’s… insanely inappropriate to tell someone about their husband. Ah. And I know I’ve only known him two weeks. I don’t… I’m not saying I’m in love with him. That’s the kind of thing you only find out with trust, and time, and we haven’t had that. That’s not what I’m trying to say. I’m just trying to say that he’s different. And I like him. And I would be very fortunate to have the chance to know him more.” 

He dumps the apple into the bowl, then turns and looks at her. “I hope that answers your question.” His face is tired, and he looks like he doesn’t particularly expect her to be receptive to any of this. He knows he shouldn’t have kissed Geralt when he did, no matter how attracted he was to him. Normally, he would have even had the restraint to wait until things were more above board. But something about the situation had triggered him deeply, and between that and the incredible depth of feeling he experienced around his handsome lover, he had lost his head.  

Yennefer takes all of this in thoughtfully, her face softening. She’d been expecting Jaskier to tell her he’d done it because he was a horny idiot, and while that is partially what he’d said, the rest gave her pause. She didn’t hear people speak like that about anyone very often, much less her taciturn and often unfriendly Geralt. 

“Thank you for your honesty,” she settles on, then takes a swallow from her cooling coffee. “I’m really not impressed by your boundaries, but…”  she sighs, relenting slightly. “It’s nice to see that you like him so much.” 

Jaskier blushes awkwardly at the backhanded compliment, busying himself by stopping the mixer to check the flavor and consistency of the whipped cream. He finds himself feeling thrown for the umpteenth time since he’d met her the day before. “I’m really very sorry I wasn’t more… uh, circumspect,” Jaskier stutters awkwardly. “I’m kind of impulsive sometimes, it’s a problem. I’m sorry.” He sprinkles a little more sugar and another dash of vanilla into the cream, then starts it going again at an even higher speed. 

“Good. You should be.” Yennefer says sharply. He winces and nods. She leans forward, putting her elbows on the counter and twirling her cup in her hand. Her face softens into a look of curiosity. “Let’s talk about your family. Where were you raised? Who raised you?” 

Jaskier tosses some blueberries into the bowl, then returns them and the remaining strawberries to the refrigerator, pulling out lemon juice in their stead. Then he fishes out a bottle of honey from a cabinet and sprinkles it and some lemon juice into the bowl of mixed fruit. He gently tosses it to coat them. Pursing his lips, he ponders where to start. He’s not sure that he wants to share this much with the intimidating stranger sitting at his kitchen island, but on the other hand, he was already in over his head. Chewing his lip, he decides to plunge forth.

“I was born here, in Rhode Island, at the local hospital. I was almost born on a ferry, point of fact.” He smiles, shaking his head and flicking off the stand mixer. “The Pankratz family home is on Martha’s Vineyard, out off the coast. My father thought he could finish one last thing before getting in the car to leave, and my mother has never let him forget it.” Chuckling ruefully, he lowers the mixer’s bowl and retrieves the whisk attachment, shaking it as clean as he can. 

Yennefer snorts softly, thinking that if Geralt had done that to her, he’d probably have suffered permanent injuries. Her pregnancy had been bad, but Geralt had been painfully attentive to her needs. Getting to the hospital hadn’t been the problem; keeping him from jumping onto the ceiling at every minor mishap had been the real issue. “Sounds like a poor choice on his part,” she smiles.

Jaskier casts a brief smile at her. “It was. Even when I was in my teens, it was still favorite material during fights.” He grins lopsidedly as Yennefer laughs.

“I can only imagine. I would have murdered Geralt if he’d done that to me,” Yennefer admits.

“He doesn’t seem like the type,” Jaskier observes as he rinses the whisk in the sink. 

“He wouldn’t have survived my pregnancy if he was,” Yennefer smirks. “He’s a good father.”

“Now that, I believe.” Jaskier replies with a soft smile. “How old is your daughter?”

“She just turned twelve at the end of spring,” Yennefer reveals, clearly proud. She takes another sip of her coffee, then sets her mug down. “That’s neither here nor there, though. Were you raised on Martha’s Vineyard, or…?”

Jaskier nods, placing the dripping whisk on a towel. “Yeah. I was raised on the Vineyard for the most part. Summers in New York, sometimes winter holidays with our grandparents in Warsaw. Well, at least before they passed away. Attended a private school on the island all the way through high school.” He takes the mixing bowl off of its base, setting it near the fruit absently. 

“My parents are… highly motivated people. They own and operate Pankratz Enterprises. It’s the family company, and it’s been passed down for… ugh, generations. I don’t know. My father’s parents passed on before I was born, so he and my mother have been more or less in charge as long as I’ve lived. It very much consumes their time.” He tastes the whipped cream one last time, nods, then tries a piece of fruit. Shaking his head, he drizzles a touch more honey into the bowl and gives it another few stirs.

“I am… the baby of the family. No surprise there,” he gives a breathy little chuckle, shaking his head. “Um. Older brother, fifteen years older than me. He’s the actual heir of the whole… family business monstrosity. Good riddance, he can have it. And a sister, ten years older. She’s uh… I think she’s in London now, working for Sotheby’s last time I checked.” 

Yennefer’s eyebrows go up. “That takes quite a few connections to achieve, last I heard.” 

“Well…” Jaskier shrugs. “That’s my family.” He tastes the fruit again and this time he nods, setting down the bowl. “Anyhow, I came along rather late to the party. I’m ah… Rather the embarrassment of the family. My mother and father hadn’t been in each other’s beds in years by the time I was conceived.” He pauses in the middle of getting two little ceramic bowls down, smirking at Yennefer over his shoulder. “At a swinger’s party. There’s still rather some debate as to whether my father is actually my father.” He gestures at his face. “No one in his family has blue eyes, you see.” A mischievous grin makes his eyes twinkle, and Yennefer finds herself chuckling, shaking her head. He’s charming enough, she’ll give him that. 

“So, what. He just raised you anyway?” she asks wryly, draining the last of her coffee. For the embarrassment of the family, he seemed oddly pleased by his story. 

Jaskier smirks and shrugs. His family had never failed to remind him that he didn’t quite belong, so he felt few qualms about airing their dirty laundry. It was petty, but the story usually made people smile, and knowing that somewhere his parents’ ears would be burning gave him a feeling of satisfaction. “Well, admitting I wasn’t his would have been a far worse scandal, so they never actually bothered to find out who my father was. It didn’t change much… even if I were his, I don’t think either of them would have raised me with any more care than they already did.” 

“That doesn’t sound like a ringing endorsement,” Yennefer observes, watching as Jaskier sets the bowls on the counter. Using the big spoon, he measures honeyed fruit into each bowl. 

“It wasn’t meant to be, darling. I was mostly raised by a nanny and our cook, if I’m going to be perfectly honest. Anything that took my mother away from work and organizing social events seemed to make her terribly nervous, and my father was worse. I don’t think he knew what the word ‘vacation’ meant.” He puts the big spoon down and grabs the freshly made whipped cream. “Even when he’d actually bother to accompany us someplace, there was always a briefcase with him.”  With a shrug, he measures a dollop of whipped cream onto each bowl. 

“Do you want nutmeg?” He asks, giving her a curious, hopeful look. Yennefer eyes the bowls on the counter with interest. They look tempting. Pursing her lips, she nods. “Sure.” Geralt hadn’t mentioned he was quite the little cook, but if this little display was anything to go by, he’d been fed quite well while he was in Jaskier’s home. Good. At least there was something the idiot had been doing right. 

He smiles and turns back to his spice cabinet, pulling down a grinder with part of a whole nutmeg still in it. He grinds it briefly over both bowls, then sticks a spoon in each of them. Turning, he offers it to her with a flourish. 

She gives him a skeptical look but takes it, setting it on the island in front of her. The flourishes are lost on her, but the food looks good. Privately, she marvels again that this is the kind of man that had her husband so frazzled. There’s no accounting for taste, she supposes. 

“Can I offer you more coffee?” He asks, holding up the carafe. She nods, holding out her cup, and he fills it. Then he picks up his own bowl and spoons the fruit around, covering it in whipped cream. “Where was I?” Taking a nervous bite, he looks at her again.

“You mentioned you were raised by the staff,” she replies with a twist of her lips, as if she finds the word ‘staff’ a bit distasteful.

“Ah. Yes, I rather was.” He nods, giving her an apologetic look. He wasn’t overly fond of having staff in his childhood home either. It had never felt right. “My father preferred to pay to make problems go away, and cooking and childcare were problems for him.” Jabbing a banana with his spoon, he gives it a little moue. 

“When I said nanny, I really mean there were a series of people who got me to school, got me home… hmm, made sure my homework was done. I wasn’t particularly close with any of them. The cook was special, though. Klaudia. She was Polish, we met her through my grandparents… I spent quite a lot of time underfoot in the kitchen, but she never seemed to mind. She’s the one who gave me my name,” he says with a fleeting smile. “Jaskier. I used to bring her flowers from the garden, and sometimes she would put them in salads. Buttercups are poisonous, of course, but I was about five when she told me about the little game of sticking a buttercup under your chin after you speak the name of someone you have a crush on… That your chin will shine yellow if you’ve spoken the name of your true love. Terribly silly, but I adored it when I was small. I became so attached to them that she started calling me Jaskier, and I loved that, too. So I kept it.” Shrugging, he takes another bite of cream covered fruit.

Yennefer smiles, taking a bite of her own fruit. The bourbon in the whipped cream is barely there, but it’s enough to make the strawberry she just bit into sing. Delicious. Apparently Klaudia had been a good teacher. Whatever else he had going on, she could admit that she was impressed by the food.

“After I graduated high school I went to New York for college. I… that was a chaotic time in my life. I’d just left private high school and had an enormous amount of freedom all at once, and I spun out for a little while. Spent a lot of time clubbing and fucking, not nearly as much time studying as I should have.” Jaskier blushes and sets his bowl aside, grabbing his coffee cup and taking a quick swallow to conceal his embarrassment. He’s usually quite unabashed about his love life, but something about this whole conversation is making him feel awkward.

“Studying?” Yennefer inquires. The idea that this man might have fucked his way through New York doesn’t entirely surprise her, but she’s curious what someone like him might have studied. “College?”

“Yes! I was lucky enough to matriculate into Juilliard as a young man. I,” he proclaims, his eyes twinkling, “have a degree as a Master of Music in historical performance. Despite a rather rocky start, I did quite well for myself by the end of my courses. I’m an adjunct professor now at the college up the street! I teach medieval music theory.” Lifting his head, he gestures to the opposite wall in the living room, indicating the different types of lute hung on the wall. “My favorite instrument is the lute.”

“Do you compose?” She asks, allowing herself to be slightly impressed. It took a fairly talented musician to even get into a college like that, much less walk away with a degree. Perhaps he was more intelligent than she had been giving him credit for. She turns to look at the beautiful instruments gleaming softly where they hang. 

“Well… Yes and no,” he says, suddenly uncomfortable. “Mostly right now I recreate ancient pieces. Put them back together and record them, style of thing. Maybe add a little of my own flair, when I’m just playing at home.” He hesitates, temporarily at a loss for words. Yennefer turns back and looks him up and down, curious about why he suddenly seems uncomfortable. 

Fingering his shirt, he gestures to the mockingbird. “The woman who made me this shirt also did the birds on my car,” he reveals quietly. “We dated for a while, after I got out of college. She ah… this is one she gave me right before we broke up. She said, it was fitting for a man who hides behind the music of other people.” Shrugging uncomfortably, he says, “I do compose, but I don’t feel I’ve ever quite gotten my legs under me with it. Maybe someday.” 

Yennefer frowns, then slowly nods. “You must be very angry with yourself to be wearing something like that today,” she observes. 

Jaskier looks up at her over his coffee mug and nods, a little surprised at how perceptive she is. “I am. I slept with your husband without thinking it through, and I feel… Embarrassed. Guilty.” He looks down at his coffee mug, swirling the remains at the bottom of the cup. “He has his own song. I don’t necessarily get to be part of it, and I understand that.” He shrugs, downing the last mouthful of his own coffee. 

Yennefer nods, finding herself reassured as he makes that admission. Good. He didn’t have a right to be any part of Geralt’s life, and she was glad he was aware. Any future access Jaskier might be granted to Geralt would be a privilege, and one he damn well better cherish. It was best he was aware of that now, and thankfully he seemed to be. She purses her lips, studying the shirt again. The little rhinestones wink in the light. It’s far too gaudy for her tastes, but it’s clean, well made, and on Jaskier it has a certain charm. Her eyes run over the delicate ink like feathering of the screen printed mockingbird. As she watches it glitter, another question occurs to her.

 “You date women?” She asks, gesturing to the bird.

Jaskier chuckles ruefully, picking his bowl of fruit back up. “Yes, darling. I’m pansexual. When I said I’d had my share of lovers, I really did mean I’ve run the gamut.”

Yennefer shakes her head and spoons up half of a strawberry, bemused. “I would not have guessed that. You’re very…” 

“Campy? Flamboyant? Yes.” He tosses his hair out of his eyes and gives her a winning smile. “Always have been.” 

Yennefer eyes him curiously. His comfort with himself was unusual, a confidence she rarely saw in queer men. Privately she wonders how he managed to stay so at ease, but files away the question for later. If all went well, there would be time for questions like that another time. 

“So. You pulled your shit together, got through school… then what?”

“Well, then I spent a year or so running myself ragged around New York and the surrounding areas trying to care for my loved ones as the AIDS epidemic worsened. I’d already been doing it during school, but once I got out, it ate up all my free time. And the ah… hospital up the road from here ended up being friendly. So over time, I ended up spending more and more time in this city, ferrying my loved ones to appointments. And eventually I started getting sick and tired myself-” He flips up his hand gently, waving away the unintentional implication. “From stress, I mean. And so I bought this house. It was good… A little spot of bright in all the shit, you know? Something stable.” He spoons up another portion of fruit, shaking his head. “So, that was my life for a while. Um. It’s also sort of what led to the bar.” 

“How so?” Yennefer asks, interest piqued. She takes another bite of fruit as she listens. This was definitely a story she wanted to hear. 

“Well…” He licks his lips and ponders. “A lot of my HIV+ friends ended up experiencing a lot of stigma. People were scared… No one understood yet what was happening. And I started getting more and more people showing up at my house every night.” Laughing, he gestures around. “It’s quiet now, but it used to have a lot more furniture. Wall to wall queers some nights, darling. We’d host art parties and try to keep up the spirits of the sick men I had living with me… It was fun.” 

Yennefer half-smiles, looking around the room behind her, trying to imagine the quiet, elegant space full of rowdy queer people doing art. “Sounds like an adventure,” she muses with a quiet chuckle. “So what then?”

“Then, one of my friends who I was hosting wanted to go to a bar. One last time, sort of thing… And we discovered that the few bars around here didn’t have much in the way of wheelchair access or safety accommodations for someone who was immunocompromised. We worked for months trying to get someplace to do the right thing, and he kept getting worse…” A dark look comes over Jaskier’s face. “At a certain point it became urgent. So,” he shrugs uneasily, “I paid for it myself.” He sets aside his empty bowl and turns around, turning on the kettle. 

“I prefer very much to make my own money and leave my family alone, but some things are worth it. In this case my friend who we were doing all of this for- James- uncovered a secret need in the local scene. There were a lot of queers who wanted a clean space with wheelchair access.” Digging in the cabinet, he pulls out a sachet of loose chamomile flowers, a strainer, and a small teapot. 

“I imagine there were,” Yennefer replies softly, her heart constricting. She looks around the room again, seeing it in a different light now. 

“So… Once I’d gotten everything fitted and set up, I had everyone come in and put up a bunch of the art we’d done while we were at the house. Most of it’s still up in the bar,” he says with a fond smile. “And now, I don’t have nearly as much traffic through here. There’s a safe place for my queers to be, I can still check up on my regulars, and I get some peace and quiet at home.” 

Yennefer nods, then looks down at her bowl to cut apart a strawberry. Then she looks up and fixes Jaskier with an inquisitive look. “You said queers… Is your bar not just for men?” 

“Heavens no,” Jaskier flaps his hand dismissively. “That’s primarily who shows up, but I have different theme nights for different parts of the community every month. Dyke nights, Trans nights, Ace nights… Leather night,” he chuckles, “is usually a blast.” 

Yennefer’s eyebrows go up, not sure how to even start with this. A smile twitches at the corner of her mouth, as she imagines Geralt in the middle of a leather night at a gay bar. He’d probably be mortified at first, but she has a feeling he would enjoy it more than he’d outwardly let on. She breaks out slowly into a smile, which she hides in her coffee cup. 

“When you said that you check up on your regulars… what did you mean by that?” she queries, studying him carefully. How he answers this question will tell her quite a bit about who he is as a person. Her listening look, already focused, becomes even more intent.  

Jaskier turns to face her, finished fiddling with his tea until the water has boiled. “I mostly have a feel for who is friends with who around here…” he explains. “At least among the people who come to my bar. The city isn’t that large. When someone doesn’t show up, or doesn’t seem to be doing well, I know who to send to check on them.” Blue eyes meet hers seriously, his gaze steady for what feels like the first time since she’s met him. “I don’t like watching people drop on my watch anymore. I’d rather die than let another queer rot or fall into homelessness because there wasn’t a family there to catch them.” 

Yennefer tips her head to the side. While she’s still angry about the potential heartbreak he might have caused Geralt by having shitty boundaries, she’s beginning to understand what drives him to do things like take strangers home. The kind of pain he had experienced did odd things to people, and they each coped in different ways. In his case, it seemed to have come out as a ferocious kindness. 

“Do you find them if they don’t have friends?” She queries, eyeing him speculatively. 

“That… “ he pauses, picking his words carefully, aware of the intensity of her scrutiny. “Depends. I don’t hunt down every stranger who passes through, but if it’s someone who’s been coming long enough to form a personal relationship with me? Maybe, sometimes. We had an older patron, Deirdre. Wonderful old queen from the days before being trans was really a thing. She came every Tuesday night for… oh, six years? Seven? She’d sit by the front door near me out on the sidewalk and smoke cigarette after cigarette, and we’d talk for hours. When she stopped coming, I went to check on her. Found her passed away in her armchair, poor dear, and the neighbors hadn’t bothered to call anyone. Mail was spilling out of her mailbox.” His lip curls with frustration and sorrow. 

“But, that kind of situation is thankfully rare. I can think of only a handful of times when I’ve felt the need to go to someone’s home. I mostly work through the grapevine,” he explains with a wistful smile. “I may be impulsive, but I do have boundaries, believe it or not. I am… very sorry I gave you such a bad impression.” Holding his hand up to forestall her speaking, he says, “Admittedly a well-deserved one. I’m not twenty anymore, I’m old enough to know better. My therapist is going to have a field day.” 

Yennefer smirks, and this time a twinkle reaches her eyes. He may be an idiot, but she is gratified to see that he has at least a glimmer of self-awareness. There’s a therapist, too. Good. He has someone to hold him accountable. It makes her feel better about the prospect of giving the hotel phone number to him. “And how old are you, that you ought to know better?”

“Thirty-four. Had a birthday about a month and a half ago, May 22nd.” He smiles and gives a little flourish. “I’m a Gemini.” 

Yennefer rolls her eyes. Of course he would be into astrology. She was going to have to have a talk with Geralt about his taste in men, again. She finishes her fruit and pushes her bowl aside, feeling satisfied. “Well. I can see that you’re not as thoughtless as I was worried you were, at least.” 

Jaskier puffs and shakes his head, not sure how to respond to that. He settles on a cautious, “Thank you?”

Yennefer snorts softly. “That being said, there’s some things I want you to understand about Geralt before we move forward. The most important is that he’s never let himself date or fall in love. He’s spent his whole adult life in the military, and he’s never given himself the chance. Were you aware?”

Jaskier looks at her, a sad look crossing his face. “He told me he’d spent his life in the service but I hadn’t quite put it together-” He breaks off and starts again. “I wasn’t aware. I’m sorry, I should have asked.”

“You’re right, you should have,” she reproofs sharply, but then her voice softens. “But in this case, I don’t think he would have told you even if you had asked. So I’ll give you a pass,” she quirks a little smile at him. “This time.” 

Jaskier smiles awkwardly, relieved, then turns around and turns off the kettle as it whistles. “Can I get you anything?”

“No thank you,” Yennefer says. Then she shifts and catches Jaskier’s eye. “When I say he’s never had a boyfriend, Jaskier, I mean it.  If you don’t step carefully with him, I will personally end you. He’s likely to get very attached to you if you let him.” She leans forward, her face very serious. “If you cheat on him, it will crush him. I want you to think very carefully about whether or not you can handle a commitment like that. You and I both know he is in a world of pain right now. Aside from my daughter there is no one more precious in the world to me, and I want him to be safe. Please don’t make things worse by being irresponsible with his very fragile heart.” 

Jaskier takes this in quietly, regarding Yennefer with a serious expression of his own. He chews his lip, then nods. Turning slowly aside, he fills the little teapot with hot water, pouring it through the strainer full of flowers. The weight of her words presses on him, making him feel small and inadequate in the face of them. 

“Do you want me to date him?” He asks finally, after a long moment of staring at the dried flowers floating to the top and unfolding in the strainer, not entirely sure he wants the answer. The last day had been a wild ride, and he was starting to get heartsore trying to deal with all of it.

Yennefer pauses, frowning a little and leaning her chin on her hand. “Do I personally want you to date him? Doesn’t matter, since you seem to be an idiot, not a predator. What matters is this: He really seems to like you, and I want him to be happy. He gets to choose you if he wants to. Do you still like him after all the shit he pulled?”

Jaskier flushes, turning away to look back at the teapot. He shifts awkwardly from foot to foot before he answers. “I’m… angry that he wasn’t more forthcoming, but it’s not like I asked, either. I definitely brought it on myself.” Licking his lips, he fiddles with the strainer. “But despite that… can I be honest with you?”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want an honest answer,” she gives him an amused look. He chuckles and shakes his head. 

“Forgive me, darling. I’m feeling a little out of my depth right now. I usually don’t have a long conversation with the wife, you know? I’m still trying to wrap my head around… uh, what’s happening here.” 

Yennefer chuckles, her eyes twinkling. “This is only the tip of it. But you haven’t answered my question yet.”

His throat bobs visibly as he swallows, his flush deepening. “Right. Well.” He pulls the strainer out too early, leaving himself with weak tea. Stopping as he realizes this, he sinks it back into the pot with a shake of his head and turns around, forcing himself to leave it be. This puts him facing Yennefer, which isn’t much better, but at least it gives him fewer things to make messes with as he loses his composure. “I ah, very much do like him still. Yes.” 

Yennefer smirks, pleased that she can fluster him. As long as he knew who was boss, then as far as she was concerned, he’d probably do fine. 

“Good. I’m sure he’ll be pleased to know that.” She folds her fingers under her chin, contemplating the uneasy looking man before her. “The other thing I want you to know is that I won’t be going anywhere if you decide to date him. You will always have me to deal with; I married him, he is my husband, he is the father of my child. I expect you to respect that.  Are we clear?”

Jaskier feels as if someone has poured ice water down the back of his shirt. He’s been in polyamorous arrangements before, but never with someone so fucking intimidating. “As crystal,” he replies weakly. “I wouldn’t imagine getting between you and him, not for a minute.” After all, he didn’t have a death wish. 

“Well then,” she says, pulling a hotel business card out of her purse and writing a number in a neat hand on the back. “As long as that’s understood, here’s the hotel phone number. Take a few days to think about it. If you really want to see him… That’s up to you. But if you do? Take him out on a date. Treat him the way he should be treated. He deserves that. If you don’t, please remember that I am more than happy to bury your dead body.” She smiles sweetly and extends the card to him. He takes it delicately from her, looks the number over, and then tucks the card into the breast pocket over his heart. 

“He does deserve a real date,” Jaskier agrees nervously, feeling caught between the hope and guilt and confusion all swarming around inside of him. “Thank you. I’ll think about it.” He feels like his face is burning, and he knows from her smile that she can see how uncomfortable he is. 

“Now. The last thing I need for now is his backpack. It has things he needs in it, and I’d like to make sure they’re there for him when he wakes up.” She says with an air of finality, standing. “Can you please get it for me?” 

“Of course,” he says, pushing off of the counter, glad to have something to do to break the tension of the moment. “Just a minute.” He retreats to the bedroom and there is the sound of dragging and rummaging. A moment later he emerges with a set of keys. 

“Come with me?” he offers, gesturing with his head towards the door. She rises and nods, following him out the front door and up the staircase to the loft. He unlocks the door for her and steps aside, allowing her past him into the quiet room. It’s starting to get hot as the mid-morning sunshine radiates through the round window in the eaves, but unlike the outside, the inside hasn’t yet turned unpleasant. 

Yennefer steps carefully into the loft, looking around. It’s a peaceful, neat little space, mostly unruffled except for Geralt’s boxes piled neatly against the back walls. His backpack still sits at the foot of the bed. She retrieves it, brushes her fingers fondly over the box labeled ‘Correspondence’ on her way back, and meets Jaskier at the door. 

“Thank you,” she states, sounding firm but sincere. She, at least, feels more settled now about getting out of Geralt’s way. Some things about the situation still don’t feel right to her, but she’s no longer on red alert. It was enough to be moving on with, at least.

Jaskier nods. “Of course. I’ll see you soon, Yennefer.” He fidgets awkwardly, then says, “Thank you, too. For leveling with me.”

 She smirks. “Get used to it.” She says dryly, then turns and heads down the stairs to her car without further comment. He stands at the top and watches her go, fiddling with the keys between his fingers, at a loss for words. 

The quiet little library near the MWR was almost deserted at this time of day. It never saw heavy traffic at any time, but right after evening mess most men had more interesting things to do than hit the books. Coën pushed his way into the library curiously, looking around from side to side. At first, aside from the librarian, there was no one to be seen. Then, as he rounded one of the stacks, the tan metal shelving opened out into a little seating area with some battered gold and cream yellow velvet plush chairs and a little work table in the middle of the space. Seated in one of the chairs was Geralt, holding a book in one hand, his expression serious as he read it. 

Coën smiled with pleasure. He’d been noticing the big man vanish after evening mess for weeks now, but this was the first time he’d had a good opportunity to follow him and find out what he got up to after hours. Most of the men on base scattered for the MWR or the smoke pit, but he’d never seen him in either of those spots. The only place he’d ever seen Geralt spend much free time was the track; he had a tendency to run when he wasn’t otherwise occupied. He didn’t run after dinner though; cracking where he went was something Coën had been meaning to do. Pleased, he walked out from behind the shelf. 

Geralt oriented to the movement immediately, half-closing his book and switching the intensity of his gaze onto Coën. The force of it hit Coën like a blow to the chest and he stopped, stuffing his hands into his pockets. Aside from being their liaison on base and in the field, Geralt also commanded his own men. Coën had heard he had a fearsome reputation. While he hadn’t yet been able to see why, the look the man was giving him right now gave an inkling of what they might have been talking about. Around Yennefer, the young lieutenant was often awkward and caught on his left foot (although to be fair, most people were; she preferred it that way,) but here alone, he had a quiet, powerful presence that gave Coën pause.

“Hey, man,” he said with a friendly smile, pitching his voice low in the silent library. “Finally found you. How’s it going?”

Geralt gave him a wooden look, then closed his eyes as if summoning strength to deal with this intrusion into his personal space. Coën, usually confident and easygoing, shifted awkwardly. When Geralt opened his eyes again, he marked the book carefully and set it aside. 

“What do you want.” He asked flatly. The full bore of his attention on Coën was vaguely uncomfortable, but Coën wasn’t about to be deterred. He was used to Yennefer, after all.  

“I wanted to talk, man. Get to know you a little. We work together all the time, why not?” He fixed Geralt with a charming, lopsided grin, leaning his shoulder lightly on the shelf next to him. 

Geralt took this in, unimpressed. “Where’s Yennefer?” Of all the things that he wanted to deal with right now, being harassed by both of them on his off hours was not it. He eyed Coën skeptically. 

“Off base doing errands, last I checked.” Coën replied easily. “Want to come out for a run with me?”

“No.”

“A drink then? C’mon. On me.”

Geralt hesitated, then grumbled reluctantly. He didn’t want to socialize, but free booze was hard to turn down. “Fine.” 

He picked the book up and stood, unfolding to his full height with an easy grace. From where he was standing he could see the librarian, whose eye he caught. Geralt gave the librarian a short nod before starting out the door. Coën could have sworn he caught a slight smile between the two of them, so quick he wasn’t entirely sure he saw it, but then Geralt was pushing past him and he was turning to follow. The little moment popped like a soap bubble and faded from Coën’s notice, forgotten, as he followed the big man out the door. 

When they arrived at the bar Geralt walked in without comment, leaving Coën to follow him. At this time of day the space was warm and full of the smell of good food, dotted with patrons chatting over drinks and baskets of falafels. Geralt leaned his elbows on the bar and greeted the owner in Hebrew as Coën came into hearing range. The man shook his head, corrected him, and Geralt tried again, this time holding up two fingers. The dark-haired man smiled and nodded this time, then looked up and waved to Coën as he approached. 

Geralt turned as Coën neared and slapped Coën’s shoulder, just a little too hard to be entirely companionable. “He’s paying.” 

Coën grinned, unperturbed, and slid into the bar seat next to where Geralt was standing. “Give me a basket of those falafels, too. They smell fantastic,” he said. 

“You got it,” the bartender replied, placing a beer and a shot of arak in front of each of them. Coën nodded his thanks and grabbed the arak first, downing it, welcoming the burn. Geralt did the same, tossing it back in one go. The liquor was strong, having the tendency to punch the drinker in the sinuses with a sharp hit of vaporized alcohol and aniseed. They both shook their heads to clear the burn, then took large swallows of beer to wash it back. Blinking their watering eyes, they turned to look at one another, considering one another in the quiet near the front of the bar. 

“Why are you bothering me?” Geralt asked him bluntly. “Don’t you have something better to do on your off hours?”

“I’m buying you food and booze, I’d hardly call that bothering you,” Coën replied dryly. Geralt quirked the tiniest of smiles and turned away, shrugging. His eyes tracked as the bartender brought the falafels back to them. Coën grabbed them and jerked his head. “Let’s grab a table.” 

“Fine.” Geralt said, eyeing his back with a little frown as he followed him across the bar. Coën was a little shorter than Geralt, although he was by no means a small man, with a leanly muscled frame and a confident posture. He wore a brown shirt and fatigues, though his press pass was now stuffed safely away, no longer needed off base. When he turned and sat, Geralt sank into the seat across from him. His face was plain but friendly, with terrible pockmark scarring from some sort of accident or illness. He grew a short beard over it, neatly trimmed, which slightly eased the effect of the scarring. His eyes were a little unsettling, a pale yellow green like a cat’s eyes, the whites riddled with red streaks from some sort of old injury.

“What happened to your face?” Geralt asked, setting his beer on the table.

“Boy, you just jump right to it, don’t you, big guy?” Coën replied affably. “That’s none of your goddamn business. But since you’re asking, it happened while I was over in ‘Nam. Got me a medical discharge out of it, and fuck all else.” He shrugged and waved his hand, indicating Geralt’s body and face. “What’s with the whole… pale, spooky thing?” A grin played over his face as he saw Geralt sit back. The young soldier’s expression changed quickly from offense to understanding as he caught on that he was being mildly rebuffed for his rudeness. 

“It’s genetic,” he explained with a little grimace. “And if you’re about to call me Casper, save your breath. I’ve heard all of it before.”

Coën’s grin widened. He took a big swallow of his beer and then leaned towards Geralt. “I was about to ask if your mother fucked a snowman, but I guess we’ve got that all covered,” he teased. Geralt pulled a face at him, wavering between offense and laughter. Coën popped a falafel into his mouth, still smiling, then pushed the basket towards the middle of the table towards Geralt. 

“So tell me about yourself. What’s with the library thing?”

“What’s with the disturbing my reading thing?” Geralt grumbled back at him, but he took a falafel and bit into it. Coën waited, still unperturbed, and after a moment Geralt said, “I like it because it’s quiet. I get a chance to catch up on my reading after dinner when no one’s there.” 

“What were you reading about?” Coën asked, then drained his beer. “Want another round?” Geralt nodded cautiously, draining his own beer and setting the empty glass aside. Coën nabbed it and brought it back to the bar, returning a moment later with full glasses and another round of arak. 

They pounded the shots back as Coën sat, then Geralt replied. “Hebrew. I’m trying to get fluent.” He gave Coën an uneasy look. “Why?”

“Just curious,” Coën shrugged comfortably. “I prefer fantasy. Love me some Lord of the Rings.” 

“Oh,” Geralt said, sounding a little surprised. He wasn’t used to people actually engaging in conversation with him about books. “Why?”

“I don’t know man,” Coën said, waving his hand. “Swords? Dwarves? Elves? It’s a fun escape, I guess.”

Geralt smiled slightly, nodded, nabbed another falafel. “What do you usually do on your off time?”

“What, when I’m not with Yennefer?” Geralt nodded, and Coën stretched in his chair, pondering. “Physical training. Fuck. Read,” he tipped his beer at Geralt in a friendly gesture, “Play cards, if there’s a game on. Harass people who don’t want to be bothered,” he said with another grin. 

This time Geralt snorted into his beer, nodding. “Ok. Fine. Where are you from?” 

Coën leaned comfortably in his chair and swiped another falafel. “Michigan. You?”

“Poland,” he replied, tossing his beer back. “My parents were stationed out there when I was born.” 

“Poland, huh? How’d you end up back in the States?”

“Military school. It’s a long story.” Geralt shrugged, his face closing off, and he changed the subject. “How’d you meet Yennefer?”

“Mm.” Coën eyed Geralt curiously, but let the subject drop. “I met her when I was over in ‘Nam. Saw her burn through a bunch of my COs like they were cheap paper and I thought, I have to know this woman.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “She wasn’t easy to get to know, but,” he shrugged. “I’m charming.”

Geralt shook his head, smiling slightly as he bit into a falafel. 

“Then… after a series of long stories I’m not gonna get into, she ended up out in the field with my unit, which was fucking insane given what was going on out there. Long story short, she saved my ass. I’m pretty much ride or die now.” 

Geralt nodded thoughtfully, then stood. “I’ll buy this round.”

“Sounds good, man.” 

When he returned, he passed Coën his drinks and sat down. This time, with the drinks, Geralt offered him a smile.

Hours later, when they staggered out of the bar together, their arms were wrapped around one another’s shoulders.

In the parking lot of the mall, Yennefer pulls into the parking space and pulls the emergency break. Now that she is done talking with Jaskier, she wants to check in with Coën, finally update him, make sure that everything is okay with him and Ciri. She pulls out a big, blocky cell phone and dials a number. It only rings twice before someone on the other end picks up. She turns the blowers down as a man’s voice answers the phone. 

“Hello?”

“It’s Yenna, Coën. I found Geralt, he’s safe. How are you and Ciri doing?” Her voice is quiet but carries clearly across the phone line. 

“Yenna,” the man, Coën, replies with relief. “It’s good to hear from you. I actually just got her down for a rest.” Yennefer can hear a small shuffling sound as he shifts the phone to his other ear, then settling sounds. “She had a helluva meltdown a little while ago.”

“Is she sleeping?”

“As far as I know, yes. Last time I looked in on her she was out.” He sounds tired, but his voice is steady, calm. “It was a bad one. She’s not hurt, but I just finished sweeping up the last of her lunch plate off the floor.” 

Yennefer sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose lightly. “Do you know what caused it?”

“I don’t think there was any one thing this time. She misses you, she’s scared about her dad being gone, her routine’s thrown off. This time the thing that kindled it off was the water from her steamed broccoli touching her ketchup, but…” He sighs, and she can hear fabric shifting, probably a shrug. “As you know, that usually doesn’t set her off like this.” She can hear another shuffle as he shifts. 

“She’d been asking about you a lot since you didn't call yesterday morning, even though we both told her you’d be missing a day… which got me thinking it’s more about missing you than the fucking ketchup. She’ll be ok, but I’m glad you called. You said you’ve finally found Geralt?” A note of worry enters his easygoing voice, and she can almost see the look of concern on his pockmarked face. 

“I found him, Coën.” She confirms. “He’s safe in my hotel room right now. I found him with a man.” A frustrated sigh bursts out from her. “I can’t believe him. This is how he got tossed out of the Army, and the second he hits civilian soil he’s in someone else’s pants. This isn’t like him.”

“He what?” On the other end of the line, Coën bursts into laughter. “Oh man, good for him! He deserves a little happy. What the fuck happened to him, anyway? Last I heard you hadn’t been able to get any details about the damn discharge, I’ve been worried sick.”

“We all have. I still am. He’s in a bad way.” And with that, she relates the events of the past day to her friend, filling him in on the details of Geralt’s discharge, how dangerous his depression has become, and the circumstances under which she found him. Coën listens patiently, stopping her only rarely to ask a clarifying question. She winds up by detailing everything she’s learned about Jaskier, ending on an amused note. “So, that situation is totally barmy. Trust Geralt to find the most impulsive man in Rhode Island… I really hope he’s going to be ok. I know I don’t get much say in this, but it worries me.” 

On the other end of the line, she can hear another soft rustle as Coën shifts and re-settles himself while he mulls this over. “I don’t know, Yenna… it sounds like it’s not the worst situation I’ve ever heard of.” 

“Coën-”

“Stop. Listen. I get why you’re upset. The guy sounds like he’s a little fuckin’ foolish, but when has Geralt gone in for anything else?” 

“Coën!” she exclaims, insulted. “Excuse me?”

“Except for you, sweetie. You know I never mean you. But Eskel? He’s never had all his screws tightened down and you know it. At least this guy seems genuinely interested in him.” 

Yennefer sighs and nods. “You’re right. Whatever else is happening, his idiot really does seem to like him,” she admits. 

“That’s good,” Coën chuckles. Then he asks, “Hey, what the fuck is he wearing? All of his stuff is here! Oh… Yenna, don’t tell me he’s in his old clothes from storage…” 

Yennefer slowly grins. “He is. Spares from his twenties, too.” 

On the other end of the line, Coën bursts out in quiet laughter. “Do they even fit?”

“Depends on how you define ‘fit’,” she replies dryly. “They’re a bit tight across the shoulders now.” 

“Oh man, and he’s just walking around wearing that? You’ve got to be kidding me. I ain’t gonna be able to mail his clothes overseas fast enough to rescue that disaster, you have got to get him new clothes.”

She laughs, shaking her head. “You’re not wrong… I’m already on it. I’m actually about to go pick him up a few things, I just thought I'd call you first.” she says, then trails off. The smile falls from her face. 

“Coën, this feels crazy. I know I already agreed that we’d stay and work it out but… Between you and me, I just want him home safe. I don’t know if I’m making the right choice staying here.”

She can hear another rustle, and when he speaks, Coën’s voice is serious and quiet, muffled to avoid waking Ciri. “I get that. I really do. But… What do you honestly think is going to happen if we put him on a plane and force him back to London? He’ll hate you, for a start. We can’t strongarm another bar owner into giving him a job with his special interest, either, and I don’t think he’ll make it if he doesn’t have something to do. Not the way you’re talking about him right now. That scares the shit out of me.” He sighs, and then speaks again, barely audible now. “Besides, Ciri needs her dad to be happy. You know what will happen if we put them together right now before he’s stable.”

Yennefer feels her stomach plunge as Coën points that out, pressing her lips together. Reluctantly, she nods. “You’re not wrong about that. I bloody fucking wish you were, but…” 

Coën hums softly in agreement on the other end of the line. “Listen.” He says, after a long moment of worried silence. “I know you’re nervous, but take the crappy impulse sex out of the picture for a minute and look again. He’s met a man who likes him a lot. He’s so into him that he finally admitted to you that he’s gay. That’s like, moving fucking mountains material. And you know how much he loves mixing drinks, it’s like an illness. I fucking hate when he starts talking about it because he won’t fucking shut up. Don’t get me wrong, it’s sweet, but-”

“It’s fucking exhausting,” she agrees with a laugh. “You’re right, this job offer is right up his alley. If he’d come to it a little more honestly, I’d probably be thrilled for him…” She hesitates, then adds, “About all of it. He really likes Julian. He blushes when he talks about him.”

“Oh ho ho ho!” Coën crows quietly. “You’re kidding me! Mr. My Face is Carved Out of Granite Rivii, blushing? That I have to see for myself.” Yennefer laughs again, feeling deeply held tension in her chest and stomach begin to ease. 

“It’s quite the sight,” she admits with a smile. “It’s nice to see.”

“I bet. So it sounds like you’re not going to be home anytime soon.”

“Probably not.”

“What do you want me to tell Ciri?”

Yennefer sits back in her seat heavily and sighs, then flips down the sun visor so that she can open the mirror on the back of it and inspect her makeup as she thinks. The process grounds her, bringing her back to her center. She carefully sweeps a finger under one eye, corralling a minute smudge of eyeliner before she responds. 

“Tell her that I love her very much, and that I will call her before bed tonight. I will keep up with her morning calls until I figure out what to do… Beyond that, it’s hard to say what next steps should be until I see how this rumpus between Geralt and his idiot takes shape.” She pauses, chewing the inside of her lip.

“What are you thinking about?” Coën asks quietly, voice gentle. 

“I’m thinking about what to do with Ciri. If everything goes well here, I don’t want to just leave Geralt alone and go back to London.” “So move her. We’ve been all over the world, Yenna. Rhode Island isn’t dangerous, what’s the problem?”

She looks up at the ceiling of the car, huffing and studying the velvety fabric above her. “It feels crazy, is the problem.”

“This whole thing is crazy. Our life is crazy. It’s ok, we know how to land on our feet. Maybe start looking into a month-to-month for you two, you don’t know how long Geralt’s going to need you over there. Maybe start scouting for bigger places in case you decide to move us, too? I’ll get a few things wound up over here, just in case, and… we’ll feel it out, ok? No need to make any big decisions yet. Let’s just make sure Geralt is safe first. Ciri’s safe with me, you can handle yourself, everything else is gonna be fine. Ok?”

Her hand comes up to her chest and presses it as she listens to Coën, trying to ease some of the sudden ache in her heart. As she gets wrapped up in the calm safety of his voice, it finally occurs to her just how emotionally exhausted she is. She takes a moment to sit with it, breathing slowly until the worst of the ache has passed and she is thinking clearly again. Coën waits patiently on the other end of the line, his own breath quiet and steady in her ear.

“I still don’t like it.” 

Coën laughs, muffling his chuckle so as not to wake Ciri. “I know, sweetie. You wouldn’t be you if you did. You were never gonna like any boyfriend of Geralt’s, it’s not in your nature... That’s ok. Give it time. Go get ‘im, sweetie, that little twink isn’t gonna know what hit him.”

She breaks out in a sudden laugh at that, pleased. “He already doesn’t. I’ve got that boy properly terrified.”

“Good. Keep the little fucker in line until I can meet him,” Coën says warmly. “I’ll beat him up for both of you if he doesn’t do right by our boy.” 

“Thank you,” she replies with a smile. “I’ll let you know what’s happening as soon as I know. Give Ciri a hug for me?”

“You got it. Anything else before I go?”

She hesitates, then grins mischievously. “The bar has leather nights.” 

“Oh, Geralt is going to die,” Coën giggles quietly, still trying to muffle himself. “Oh lord, thank you for telling me that. That’ll do.”

“You’re welcome. Talk to you soon.”

“Yup. Give Geralt a hug for me when you get back to him.”

“I will,” she promises. “Goodbye.”

“Bye.” 

She ends the call and drops the phone back into her purse, sighing heavily. She feels more grounded now, but the weight of the situation sits heavily on her heart. Like no matter where she turns, something unpredictable looms, out of her control. Closing her eyes and leaning back in her seat, she gives herself a long, slow moment to gather her thoughts. The conversation with Coën was calming, and she feels much clearer now. Once she is gathered, she gets out of the car and shuts the door firmly. Now that was all settled, it was time to get Geralt some clothes. 

~*~

When she arrives back at the hotel room some time later, Geralt is just starting to stir. He is lying there blinking in the dimness of the hotel room, feeling like he is being crushed under a ton of bricks, when he hears the click of the magnetic key card sliding in the lock. Sitting up on his elbow, he watches as Yennefer pushes through the door with a bag on her elbow and his backpack slung over her shoulder. Oh, crap. That’s right, she’d gone shopping for him. Despite the fact that he’s grateful he didn’t have to go to the store himself, he still feels apprehension about the prospect of a whole new set of clothing. Groaning, he flops back against his pillow and scrubs his hand over his stubbly face. 

Yennefer smiles as she watches him do this, setting the bag down on the little round table. “I have more in the car, kochany.” She gestures to the little counter with the mini fridge and coffee maker, where a bag of ground coffee sits waiting for him. “I bought some decent coffee in case I found you. Why don’t you get that started?” Geralt grumps out a muffled noise from behind his hand, not moving.

Then she walks over and deposits the backpack next to his side of the bed. “Got your razor.” Leaning over, she plucks his hand off of his face and kisses his forehead, then his lips, light and sweet, and is rewarded with a little flicker of a smile. 

“Thank you, neshama shelì.” Geralt rumbles softly, his voice still thick with sleep. “How did everything go?”

“Well… I still don’t entirely get what you see in him,” she teases gently, sitting next to him on the bed, forcing him to scoot slightly to the side to make room for her. “But. We had a long talk, and I have a better feel for who he is as a person.” She trails her fingers lightly along his arm, affectionate. 

“And?” Geralt asks, tilting his head and eyeing her with guarded curiosity in the dimness. 

“And,” she sighs and smiles, patting his chest. “I suppose I can see something of what you see in him. He’s a pillock, and he’s too impulsive for my liking, but he’s also… kind. Soft. Generous. More thoughtful than I gave him credit for. So,” she says, turning to smile down at him, “I left him with the hotel room’s number. The ball’s in his court now, kochany. We’ll just have to wait and see.”

Geralt looks back up at her, his face unreadable in the dim half-light of the hotel room. He nods, his eyes sliding closed, still groggy and emotionally hungover after the day previous. Yennefer pats his chest gently one last time and then says, “I also talked to Coën. He and Ciri are doing well, and he’s glad that you are okay. He told me to hug you for him.” And with that she leans over, giving him a gentle squeeze. He huffs out a noise of mild protest, but deep down he enjoys the hug. She smirks as she rises. “I’ll be back with the rest of the bags in just a minute. I’ll fill you in about the rest over breakfast.” 

He grunts a sleepy noise of acknowledgement, waiting until she leaves to slowly rise. Every movement causes his body to burn with exhausted pain. All of the raw sadness and grief that he’d been staving off for weeks has collapsed in on him, and he can barely breathe under it. Grumbling softly, he sets up the coffee maker, pulls his shaving things and his dog tags out of his bag, and limps into the bathroom for a shower. 

By the time he is out, he can hear Yennefer moving around in the room outside the door. He uses a towel to swipe the mirror clear. This time he doesn’t even try to meet his own eyes. Instead, he sets about the routine that he’s done nearly every day of his adult life, the same way every time. It is unspeakably grounding to feel the cold pattern of strokes across his skin as the razor cuts away the night’s stubble.

When his skin is finally smooth for the first time in weeks, it feels like a weight has fallen off of him. He sighs deeply in contentment as he washes the remaining soap off of his face and rubs his hand gently over his cheeks. Then, he turns to his dog tags. There on the chain is his wedding band, a plain gold ring. 

Yennefer had put it on him a long time ago, and it is one of his most treasured possessions. It had never felt right to hide it, but he’d been so certain that he didn’t deserve them anymore. That they would reject him. Now that he knew differently, it was a relief to see it again. It had always been an honor to wear.  

Gently, he removes it and puts it back on his ring finger. When he emerges from the bathroom, Yennefer can see the difference in him. Her eyes flicker to the ring and back, and she gives him a little smile. That was a good sign, she knew. It meant he felt connected enough to his family to wear it. 

“Better?” She asks, watching him walk out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. 

“Better,” he agrees, fingering his chin. 

“Good.” She smiles. “There’s fresh clothes on the bed for you.” With a tip of her head, she indicates the jeans, dark blue button down, undershirt, underwear, belt, and socks that she’s laid out on Geralt’s side of the bed. 

“Thanks,” he squints, eyeing them distrustfully. 

“Just try them, Geralt, they won’t bite,” Yennefer suggests wryly, taking another pair of jeans out of a bag and clipping the tags off of them. “You’ll have to get used to wearing them someday, might as well start now.” 

“Hmm.” He grunts, casting her a look of very mild irritation. She smiles back at him, he rolls his eyes, then capitulates and heads over to inspect the new clothing for himself. It’s simple, sturdy, well-made. When he picks up the shirt, it’s surprisingly soft. He shoots a glance at Yennefer, who gives him a ‘See? Told you to trust me,’ look in return. 

Grumbling softly, caught somewhere between feeling annoyed and loved, he puts the shirt on. He discovers that the underwear is comfortable, too. To his surprise, even the socks are pleasant, dress socks with fine seams that don’t bother his feet when he puts them on. The jeans are a little stiff, but they’re new and that can’t be helped. The clean clothing feels nice, as does the fact that it fits a great deal better than his old clothing did. He walks over to the mirrors paneling the little closet door in the corner of the room and eyes himself uncomfortably. 

“What do you think?” Yennefer asks from across the room, an amused note lilting her voice. 

“I hate it,” Geralt gripes, only half serious. He tugs at the shirt and grimaces at his reflection. The outfit feels surprisingly nice on his skin, and deep down, he knows he’ll get accustomed to it quickly. 

“Liar,” Yen chuckles warmly, setting aside a wine-red shirt in a small pile of other clothing. 

“Hmm.” Geralt hums, walking over to the little counter to get himself a cup of coffee. Then he turns around and leans against it, eyeing Yen and her bags skeptically. 

“I know I need clothes, Yen, but really?” He complains, as he watches her pull out a deep purple shirt and clip its tags, adding to the pile. 

“Really,” she says firmly. “You’ll feel better if you look presentable, Geralt. Especially at that new job of yours, if you decide to take it.” She glances up at him, a twinkle in her eye. Then she gestures at a shirt on top of the pile of work clothing she’s set aside for him.

He gives her a wide-eyed look, then walks over and tentatively picks up the shirt that she’d indicated. It is just a black button down shirt, nothing fancy. But it is more than that, too. It is a silent statement of support from her, and as such, it means the world to him. 

She smiles to herself, setting aside the empty bag in her lap. “Want to go get breakfast somewhere, moj drogì?” She asks. “I saw a few places nearby that looked good.” He glances up from his coffee warily. To be perfectly honest, all he wanted to do was sleep, but he was all slept out, so after a moment of hesitation he nods. 

“Good. Once I’m done here we’ll leave.” 

He nods again, downing his coffee and pouring himself another cup. Then he walks over quietly behind her back and leans down, kissing the top of her head. 

“Thank you for the clothes, Yen.”

“You’re welcome.” She replies warmly, leaning back into his stomach. Her violet eyes peer up from underneath her lashes, a slow smile lighting her face. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He takes a sip of coffee, holding her head and gently savoring her curls with his fingertips. They both close their eyes, soaking up the warmth of being together. It might not be a usual sort of love, but it was theirs, and neither would have traded it for the world.

[sophiesticated22]

Truther Tagging Game

Thank you for tagging me @razzle-kazzle I know it took so long but I use tumblr on mobile and it took me a while to figure out that i should just use a laptop since I couldnt figure out how to do it on mobile.

Rules-bold what applies to you

APPEARANCE:

I’m over 5’5” // I wear glasses/contacts (I Technically dont although i do wear anti-radiation glasses when I’m using gadgets since my eyes are like probably dying) // I have blonde hair // I prefer loose clothing to tight clothing (I like both though!) // I have one or more piercings (I have 4! all on my ears...planning of adding more there)  // I have at least one tattoo // I have blue eyes // I have dyed or highlighted my hair // I have gotten plastic surgery // I have or had braces  // I sunburn easily // I have freckles // I paint my nails (When im in the mood) // I typically wear makeup (if lipbalm and slight lipstick counts then yes, i dont really know how to use make up but I really want to learn) // I don’t often smile // I am pleased with how I look (not super pleased but maybe on the way there) // I prefer Nike to Adidas // I wear baseball hats backward

HOBBIES AND TALENTS:

I play a sport // I can play an instrument (I play violin too! I play other insturments too, I think i can pick up any instrument from what ive expereienced so far but I like...dislike the piano for some reason) // I am artistic // I know more than one language // I have won a trophy in some sort of competition // I can cook or bake without a recipe // I know how to swim // I enjoy writing // I can do origami // I prefer movies to tv shows // I can execute a perfect somersault // I enjoy singing // I could survive in the wild on my own // I have read a new book series this year // I enjoy spending time with friends(sometimes) // I travel during school or work breaks (I do if we can but i sometimes just end up staying at home doing schoolwork or trying to catch up sleep) // I can do a handstand

EXPERIENCES:

I have had my first kiss // I have gotten drunk // I have told a crush I like them // I have traveled outside of the country // I have flown on an airplane // I have stayed awake for more than 48 hours // I have had a near-death experience // I have caught something on fire (a newly bought barbie cd, right before my sister could watch it...i still feel bad about it) // I have performed in a talent show // I have shot a gun // I have been on TV // I have gone scuba diving // I have broken a bone // I have slow-danced (required for prom) // I have gone on a shopping spree

RELATIONSHIPS:

I am in a relationship // I have been single for over a year (more like ive been single my entire life) // I have a crush  // I have a best friend I have known for ten years // My parents are together // I have dated my best friend // I am adopted // Someone has confessed feelings to me // I have a long distance relationship // I am an only child // I give advice to my friends(im not amazing at them) // I have made an online friend // I met up with someone I have met online

AESTHETICS:

I have heard the ocean in a conch shell // I have watched the sun rise // I enjoy rainy days // I have slept under the stars // I meditate outside // The sound of chirping calms me // I enjoy the smell of the beach // I know what snow tastes like // I listen to music to fall asleep // I enjoy thunderstorms (got into an accident where i had trauma for them for 10 years i think...but i kind of enjoy them now) // I enjoy cloud watching // I have attended a bonfire // I pay close attention to colours // I find mystery in the ocean // I enjoy hiking on nature paths // Autumn is my favourite season

MISCELLANEOUS:

I can fall asleep in a moving vehicle // I am the mom friend (kind off) // I live by a certain quote // I like the smell of sharpies // I am involved in extracurricular activities // I enjoy Mexican food // I can drive a stick-shift // I believe in true love // I make up scenarios to fall asleep // I sing in the shower // I wish I lived in a video game // I have a canopy above my bed // I am multiracial // I am a redhead // I own at least three animals // I am LGBT (still not sure about this one so leaving it like this for now :D)

Tag friends: im too shy to tag especially when i havent spoken to them...plus you’re like my only friend here so far :D since i just linger around, like, and reblog things HAHAHA 

anyway I hope this wasnt soooo late. Im sorry it took a while for me to figure this out xD I havent made tumblr posts much so I really had no idea how this works 

[wingedfabray]

make ash and leave the dust behind

Tagging: Quinn Fabray & Family, plus various UMC officials When: Saturday, May 2th Where: The UMC, and elsewhere What: Quinn gets called into Russell’s office at a(n) (im)perfect moment. Warnings: Politics?

There was a buzz in the hallways Quinn hadn’t seen since her father’s last election. The energy, however, couldn’t be more different. Where once there were glasses of champagne and jovial smiles as numbers ticked, the ebbing and flowing of conversation and the occasional clunk of Russell’s scotch landing on his desk, instead the conversation held to a low but steady murmur. It flowed around her in whispers. There was no champagne, but Russell’s hands wrapped tight around his scotch, bringing it to his lips at an almost alarming rate.

Quinn tried to catch the conversation, wrap her fingers around scattered sentences, but it always seemed to flow around her, never through her. The hallway beyond Russell’s office door was both deadly quiet and chaotic. She could things were happening in the clack of harried footsteps, but could never quite catch on what those things could be. There were too many people for a routine day at the office, but not the right ones. She’d caught glimpses of various Heads, but the assembly floors were empty. There was no one there to direct.

Quinn stood halfway through her father’s office doorway, her stomach still turning from the abrupt summons. People moved through the hallway behind her like a river, and the office in front of her was a stone-still eddy. Her father stood behind the desk downing two fingers of scotch like it was kool-aid, one hand shaking atop his desk. His hands never shook. Poised, perfect. There wasn’t a thing they couldn’t accomplish with the right words to the right audience said with confidence. Sit up straight, Quinn, smile. Never let them see you falter.

He met her eyes over the rim of his glass, then set it down with a clunk. His lips pulled up in what could be a smile, in any other context. It was something dark and oddly satisfied. He held her gaze and Quinn felt a stone settle in her stomach.

“Hi, Daddy.” She offered around it, squashing it away. “You called?”

“I did,” He finally broke eye contact, looking down and waving her in. She shut the door with a soft click behind her, the hurried clack of footsteps falling silent. Without the bright lights of the hallway, the office was dark. Her father’s face was carved in deep shadows, and suddenly he looked old. “The rest of the family should be here shortly, but I needed you first.”

The way he said it sounded almost like he was assuring himself. He said it to his hands, to where they rested on the desk next to the empty glass of scotch. He said it with his brows angled in and his lips in a firm line.

“Okay.” She said quietly into the stillness that followed. “What do you need from me?”

As though pleased, a softer grin spread across his face. And God, if warmth didn’t spread across her chest. If her shoulders didn’t come up, if her back didn’t straighten. If that wasn’t a look she’d fought for over the course of too many years. She returned the smile.

“Quinn. My Quinn.” He moved around the desk, and placed his hands on her shoulders. She almost felt tall, for a moment. But she barely reached his shoulders, and a bitter taste was creeping up the back of her throat. “You’ve been doing well in school, yeah?”

A nod, she swallowed.

“Good. You’re active in student government, you’ve followed me through two UMC campaigns, and you’ve put a lot into representing the Fabrays at NYADA. It doesn’t go unnoticed.” He dropped his hands from her shoulders, and turned to grab his suit jacket and grey flat cap from his coat rack. His voice held some bitterness when he continued, there and gone in an instant. “Your sister is making her own waves in politics, your mother has been a solid support at my side for years. I know for a fact Harper is fond of you. It’s time you really got involved, Quinn.”

He smiled as he opened the door to the near-chaotic hallway, disappearing into the current. Quinn’s feet followed of their own accord, like a string tugged at her navel, her father the fisherman spinning the reel. She was struck again by the odd silence, even while bodies moved and buzzed around her. Her father’s flat cap bobbed steadily ahead of her, a rock in the rapids. Everyone was going the opposite direction. “Daddy?”

She could see his shoulders rise and fall, but he didn’t turn around, he didn’t slow down. He angled his way through the stream, ducking and weaving before diving down a hallway less familiar to Quinn, and far less busy. She followed with little difficulty, like the crowds knew Russell Fabray had a tag-along, like they knew it was Quinn Fabray.

The new hallway was quiet, only a few others contributing to the echo of their footsteps against marble white walls. Russell moved like he knew it, his steps easy and familiar, but Quinn wasn’t sure she’d ever been there before. It was a small tributary, unassuming but important all the same. Quinn could see it in the way Russell held his chin up, in the ornate doorways and golden panels that declared the offices of Parliament, of the Bureau, and Conferences A through F. This was where important things happened, and Quinn wondered if her father knew she was still there, still following. Maybe he’d wanted her to go straight, or to fall into the stream and let it take her.

Russell stopped in front of a red wood door, six panels, the long handle gold and clean. He gripped the door jam and Quinn felt her feet stutter sideways beneath her. That stone in her stomach shifted and she wondered if she was going to be sick. It was only a moment, though. Russell grabbed the door handle and pushed it open, and sound rushed out all at once. There was the din of voices Quinn had been expecting, all at once, each trying to be louder than the last. Russell disappeared into the entrance, and Quinn followed a moment after.

“Our priority must be the Manhattan magical districts.” Said one.

“Just how many families are we honestly going to fit into bunkers? We’ve talked about this, the upper Bloodline families come first...” Says another.

We’ve talked about this? Quinn’s head spins. Something tickles at the back of her mind. Something important. But it slips away, and her stomach rolls again. The din seems to hush in the wake of it, and Quinn wonders for a moment if it isn’t just her before the voices pick up once more.

“Ah, Russell! I see you’ve brought your daughter, what of the rest of your family? The portals will be opening soon.” Quinn recognizes this man. She’s seen him in her father’s office, his bushy mustache falls over his mouth, and striking green eyes sit deeply sunken beneath heavy brows. He works in the commission, and Quinn can’t place his name to save her life.

There’s no need to save lives, is there?

“Portals to where?”

“Hush, Quinn. I brought you here to listen. To learn. To take it in, so you know exactly what to say, when you return to NYADA.” He puts a hand on her shoulder, and turns to Mustache. Is it Bertrand? Bernard? “They’ll be arriving at my office soon enough. I wanted to stop in, ensure that there’s still a plan in place.”

“Yes, we’re working on that...”

“Hold on. What am I saying, when I return to NYADA?” For the first time, Quinn finds her voice. Her father looks at her; Mustache looks at her. The former’s brow furrows, and his mouth twists into that smile, again. The dark one, the one that edges at satisfaction.

“That the UMC tried. You’ll tell them you were in this room, and we reacted. We put families first, we began evacuating as soon as we could.” Quinn stumbles sideways again, her stomach drops, and this time she knows it’s not just her. Someone talks about the security at NYADA being notified, the voices are getting faster. “You’ll say the Fae gunned for the end of the world, and the best of us put our heads together to stop it.”

It doesn’t look like anyone is stopping anything. God, it looks like everyone important has gathered in one room to say evacuate Manhattan’s magical districts, and portal away. Quinn opens a Rolodex in her mind, and ticks through the various families she knows own penthouse suites in Manhattan; families whose income never drops below seven figures. She sees clocktowers and suit-clad drivers waiting patiently beside blackout car windows.

Her father smiles, there’s a portrait of Magister-Secretariat Bob Harris on the wall behind him that’s crooked. If so many important people are in that room, where is Bob Harris? The bitter taste gets stronger; Quinn feels sick. “You’ve been doing so well, Quinn. You’re a Fabray, you’re in this room. When you get back to NYADA, when this is all said and done...I trust you’ll know what to say.”

Wasn’t the world ending soon?

Her stomach drops, there’s the slide of chairs against marble, and Quinn finally gets it. She thought it would be different. More like getting everything she’d always hoped for, and less like the ground was falling away, and there was nothing beneath her but a hole that never ended. It should taste sweet, not acrid. She was a stone in the river, and all she could feel was the current battering against her.

The portrait clattered to the floor, and as one the most important people the UMC had to offer stood and began to make their way out of the room. Various Witches clad in full Cardine regalia moved ahead, speaking quickly into Comm Crystals. The lights flickered and died, and magic circles danced light around them. Quinn barely had time to think as her father led her back to his office.

Inside, a portal danced brightly in front of the desk, and her family stood waiting. Francine looked tired, Judy looked bored. Harper met her eyes and there was a sad twist to her mouth that Quinn hadn’t seen in a long time. They held gazes across the room for a long moment before her father interrupted.

“Well, best get on with it.” Quinn closed her eyes, somewhere in the distance something was breaking, and she didn’t know if it was real or imagined. She pictured a needle driving itself into the Earth, a thread of something trailing behind it. She stepped through the portal, opened her eyes, and found herself in a hotel room in Meeru Resort.

She pivoted on her heel, but the portal was gone, Russell’s hand firm in the fabric of her cardigan.

The Maldives. Really?

[ihavenoside]

Rules for mobile users.

Because I thought I’d done this months ago, under readmore is just my rules that I have on my blog so mobile users have access to them too since tumblr is dumb. Mad respect for anyone stuck on mobile and actively uses it as there rp source because I sure as hell can’t lol.

The mun

The mun and muse are both 21+.

I don’t have anything that needs to be tagged other then NSFW. This regards pictures only, mostly related to smut. If you reblog a lot of shipy pictures and don’t tag it appropriately, I’ll have to unfollow you. I live in a small house, eyes can be on my screen at any given time. Otherwise, I wouldn’t care as much.

Considering the theme of this game, if it’s expected, I’m not likely to tag it. HOWEVER. If it’s related to pictures, like blood. I will tag it (tw: blood) and any darker themed rps will likely fall under readmore. If something does need tagging, please let me know and I’ll do my best to tag it.

Mutuals & Non-Mutuals may message me using the IM system anytime for ooc chat, plot, thread discussion, character and headcanon questions. Don’t be shy, I’m really nice and would love to chat! Chances are I’m more afraid to talk to you then you are to talk to me. With respect, I wish you to reply to any messages I send you at your convenience with reminders a day or two later in case they have been forgotten. In return, I wish for the same respect. Whether we’re active on the dash or not.

Regarding personals, I don’t mind you liking my threads/openers/OOC/IC response or dash commentary but do not reblog them if it is not for the purpose of rping or the rp is not with you. Unless told otherwise, otherwise I’m going to soft block you.

I’m not the greatest when it comes to socializing. Regarding irl there isn’t much for me to say but I do enjoy people coming to talk to me about characters, threads and anything. If we’ve talked/rped for a while, you can ask for my discord but threads will remain on tumblr.

Following

I’m Canon and OC friendly.

Please have a bio and rules page available. It’s much easier to get to know you and your character that way.

I will not follow personals nor will I roleplay with them. There is only one person exempt from this rule. However, personals can send in asks directed at both mun and muse if they like.

Just because I don’t follow you, doesn’t mean I won’t RP with you. I have my reasons for this and in no way reflects poorly on you as a role player. I’d like to rp with everyone but I’d like to keep my dash manageable.

If we’re mutuals, I want to roleplay with you but it’s okay if you don’t want to rp with me. You can tell me no just as I have the right to tell you no.

If you’re a person of the same muse or face claim as me, I’m still willing to rp with you. I’m also willing to roleplay with more than one person of the same character, just sorry in advance if I get you guys mixed up lol. Muns of the same character can yield different results. If you see me rping with a muse you have, I’ll still rp with you too!

Threads

I’m AU/Crossover/Multi-verse friendly.

I like plotting beforehand but random rps are okay too. I have wishlists Here and Here full of idea’s that I’d love to play out. Most idea’s can be interchangeable with muses and oc’s but should be discussed.

I tend to do paragraph rps but I’ll do one-liners and all that. I also use icons from time to time, you never have to match my length or use icons if you don’t want to. As long as you give me something to work with, it’s all good.

Any RP blog can reply to my OPENers, Joke RPs, IC or Dash Commentaries unless it’s stated otherwise (like its mentioned mutuals only). If you see an opener you like and it already has notes on it, you can still reply to it or make a new thread and @ myname in it. With or without my permission.

I’m okay with violent rps, simply be realistic. (Talking to me first is preferable.) If you put my muses life in danger, expect them to fight back.

If you ever send me an ask or vice versa and wish to turn that ask into a thread. By all means do so, with or without my permission. All I ask is that use the @ myname so I can see it.

If I’ve not liked a thread or responded to it in a few days at first, please let me know, I might have missed it.

If I’m rping with you and haven’t replied in a while, remind me. I might have forgotten/lost the thread. If said it’s in drafts, then I’ll get to it. Sometimes I have a hard time, other times because of life I don’t have time too. I like putting 100% into my threads and would rather not half-ass it because I’m tired. I’m also always willing to do more than one thread with you but I can be slow at replying.

If you ever want to drop a thread with me, you can let me know and we can plot out something new when you’re ready. If you don’t want something new, that’s cool too. Rping is made to be fun and if a thread no longer fun then why stress?

My thread tracker can be found in my navigation page. I will do my best to keep it up to date. If you see our thread is missing, let me know, please. If you’ve not responded in 3 months, the thread will be archived but it doesn’t mean you can’t respond to it a year later.

Shipping

I like shipbuilding. I would much rather our characters interact and be friends before starting a ship. I feel slow burns give more content to rp and chemistry is important. I don’t want it to be all fluff either, people disagree and fight but this should never turn into an abusive thing. (Unless we want it that way.)

My level of comfort really varies when it comes to shipping characters. The muns will have had to be in communication for a bit and rules discussed beforehand if we really want to dive into it but in general, while shipping is fun it’s not something I outwardly seek.

I have no problem with your muse expressing romantic feelings towards mine but if I’ve not discussed this, i’m going to turn it down but unrequited love is a thing.

I’m multi-verse / multi-ship. I reserve the right to stop our ship just like you have the right to tell me the same. Things happen, muses don’t work out. It’s cool to stop or try and work it out. I don’t want this to be a stressful thing and would rather the muns remain friends but if that can’t work out. it’s cool too.

I’m pretty open to the idea of shipping him with anyone he has chemistry with but Hank and other Connors. I would also prefer the RK Series to see each other as siblings but it’s not a requirement.