#'how many fucking layers are you wearing' '5 i believe' 'what the fuck' 'we just came from the north'

[vegaseatsass]

GAP the Series ep 5 thoughts (spoilers!!)

WANNA SUCK MOUTH !!!

Gonna rush through this post b/c we watched late and I gotta go to bed, but it's still VERY important to me to journal my way through this show, because, wow wow wow WOW, this show, dude.

Wanna suck mouth!!!

Wanna suck mouth.

Seriously though. The mouths, the lips, the lip-biting, the pen-biting, the teeth, the lipssss, the queer lady gaze of it all. Hottest first kiss I've seen maybe ever??, while simultaneously the most joyful and character-specific. Extremely good stuff.

But besides the absolute sexy excellence of all things Lips in the episode, the crux of this week for me was Mon's demand that Sam be direct, stop giving her a headache from trying to interpret all her opaque Sam-isms... and Sam demanding the same thing of Mon. Both because 1) I love the acknowledgment that graceful social butterfly Mon is probably just as confounding to Sam as vice versa - they communicate differently, not unevenly, and there's a point about neurotypical vs. neuroatypical communication to be made here, but basically it's not that either of them isn't trying, with all her smitten might, to understand and make herself understood AND 2) we got so many clear-cut examples throughout the episode of Sam doing the absolute most to be direct, before Mon ever requested it of her. "Some married man 😤 was flirting by sending you stickers? I sent you stickers!!!" "What is your favorite facial feature of mine? Jsyk my favorite of yours is LIPS. Can I BITE THEM." Lol she was pulling out all the stops!! I just feel like for the first time we really see the layer of the relationship where Sam is trying to express her feelings for Mon, trying to shout them from the rooftops even, but she's not being heard, and it isn't solely because she's repressed and socially awkward but because you put "I, your vaunted idol, want to fuck nasty" in Mon's face and Mon will find an "innocent" explanation to hear instead. Idk it's prob too late at night for me to express this well but I just think this show does a lot of really neat nuance work, while remaining impossibly adorable and funny and sexy and entertaining at the same time.

Like I'll try to say this fast but Sam vs. Nop is one of the best dreamiest things I've ever seen fr, and there is so much about how Sam confronted him and tried to set up a chance for Mon to confront him that speaks to what Sam values in communication, and how burdensome and arbitrary she finds social niceties. AND re: nuance work, I loved it because they let Sam make explicit what Nop has been doing, ignoring every single time Mon tells him she's not into him (because she has told him! onscreen!), with an expectation that he can wear her down over time, exploiting the misogynist social role Mon's trapped in. It is so badass that Sam calls that out, it is so badass that the narrative calls that out! I have so much hope and expectation for everything unspoken right now (forbidden workplace romance, fiance?, what Mon's headspace is re: "friends" playing the lip-biting game) because of these sorts of moments. I really believe this series knows what it's doing, has plenty to say and a deft touch when it comes to saying it, and that's exhilarating.

Quick other things: Loved when Sam got jealous of the prawns for stealing her girl's attention. How long before she asks "Would you love me if I was a worm?" and makes herself jealous of Sam the worm...

I just want to do a very clear shout-out to "What is your favorite facial feature of mine? I'll trade you a bite for a bite" as a flirtation strategy. Like I've been calling Sam a disaster lesbian but that is a move.

Laura and I agreed Sam had major Kim Theerapanyakul vibes in the very first scene, showing up to inflict jealous, unnecessary violence against friends, and then yell "Goodbye forever!!!" when questioned on her embarrassing behavior. Luckily for her Mon apparently will always text first :')

I loved Sam's tie necklace. Very sexy.

What other substances can be applied to and then bitten off lips? Let us brainstorm together, tumblr. Ep 1, Ep 2, Ep 3, Ep 4

[gayregis]

quick quastion does geralt like. experience temperature. because on one hand it would be stupid if witchers couldn’t handle temperatures outside of the range they were raised in because they have to travel a lot for work, but also, in the witcher 3, you can wear mastercrafted ursine armor in toussaint and not die of heat exhaustion

[daphnedauphinoise]

Hey daphne loveeee your advice. Any ideas on how to incorporate the 90s super model look? I think all the girls style and beauty is so iconic.

Emulating the runway look

To understand how you can incorporate their style in your daily life, you first need to understand what aspect of the supermodels you like and what was on the runway at the time. 

Which model do you resonate with style-wise? 

There were soooooooooo many successful amazing models during the 90s. Enough for one each and for you pick a few and study. 

When choosing a muse, go with the inital vibe. If they strike something within you then yes, don’t spend time pondering over their race, skin colour, blood type or what they ate for breakfast. The purpose of a style insipiration is just about style. A lot of the models dressed the same on and off runway so you really just have to go what strikes you. For example, I love Christy Turlington as a model, and I wholly believe that she is the most beautiful model of all time but I don’t resonate with her style wise.  Unlike on the runway now, models were allowed to show their personality on the ramp and they did this through their walk. Naomi was fierce and fiery and Linda’s was more curt and cold. So watch videos of the models on the runway and see whose walk you like the best. I reccomend the youtube channel The Runway Collection. 

My personal favourites are Claudia Schiffer and Yasmeen Ghauri. Claudia Schiffer is stunning and she looks a lot like Brigitte Bardot with her low eyes and pouty lips. And you see this in her walk too. She walked like she knew she was the most beautiful girl you will never see again, and for someone who didn’t want to do runway initially she had what it took. There is slight conservative charm to her walk, something relatable.  Yasmeen.. well she is THE YASMEEN GHAURI. Everyone thinks Naomi had the best walk but that is only because they forgot about Yasmeen Ghauri, who decided to leave the runway out of the blue and go to university. Like Tyra Banks said, ‘Yasmeen had the walk of life’. Whilst Naomi’s was a baltant ‘I don’t give a fuck about you’ walk, Yasmeen was more ‘ I don’t need to say anything to, you already know I am the best’. She was effortlessly cool, sharp and intelligent and that showed in her walk. 

Looks on the Runway: Tailored Casual

This is what the mother of the pretty preppy girl in your school wears now but in the 90s everyone was wearing this. I love the tailored look of the 90s. It makes you look more grown-up, the vision of Dolly Patrons 9-5- the original girl boss look. You don’t need to walk around with a three piece suit on but have tailored pieces in your wardrobe is essential. For this look, you will need to learn how to layer (thinnest to thickest) and how colours work next to each other. The key point to these outfits is that they are all part of a set. Eventhough Cindy Crawford and Karen Mulder are not wearing suits, their jumpers still match the colour of their trousers which makes the outfit looks more cohesive. This whole matching sets and colours were big in the nineties. There is reason why a matching set of joggers and sweater looks better than a mismatched one. Colour blocking or going for a monochromatic looks cultivated. I know we have brought back a similar business casual but I don’t think it looks as good as it did back in the 90s. 

When buying tailored pieces, you really need to put the the and effort to do it properly. In an ideal world, everyone would be able to get custom tailored clothes veru afforably but until then learn about your own porpotions and read the size guide on the clothes you buy. You can totally get whatever you buy from high street store tailored and that will cost less than a custom suit. 

I love bright colours but it is hard to look suave when you look like a traffic cone. I am not saying go for beige colours but go for more muted shades or shades that you don’t see as often like dove grey or duck egg blue.

Get the Look 

Brands: Reiss, Zara, Mango, The Frankie Shop, Ralph Lauren, The Row 

Good For:  This look would work for work settings or anywhere professional.

Look #1: You can never go with a white shirt, fitted trousers and belt.  A nice tan belt is an essential to have in your wardrobe and it is one of the key ways to make yourself look more polished. I would keep jewellery on the low and opt for something classic like a pair of studs. 

Look#2: I love the look Naomi Campbell is wearing. I think it is a red strutcre blazer over a black dress. The best things about this outfit is the black dress, the black beret and the black tights matching but contarsting against the red oversized. I rarely see people casually wearing a true red anymore which is a shame because one of my favourite outfits in cinema is Drew Barrymore’s red esemble in Poison Ivy.

Look#3: You need a light cashmere sweater and matching trousers. And I can’t believe I am saying this but don’t get it in black. 

Looks on the runway: Chanel Girl 

Everyone can recognise the 90s Chanel look. Matching tweed, mini skirts, layered belts and hair accessories. Compared to the business casual look this look is more youthful, flirty and girly.The reason all of the outfits are good is because they follow simple fashion rules. The matching sets easily makes you look more put together. The crop top and the skirt works use length perception to make you look taller.  My favourite bit of all this outfit is the skirt and the belt. I love the layered Chanel belts but they are pricey at £10 000 for a vintage one. You can easily just get a cheaper non-Chanel one or even make one. This is the perfect time to incorporate this style because the school girl fashion is making it’s way back into the runway. 

Notice how skirt is black in most of the outfits, that is our base. Whenever I mention base, I mean this is one item that you should invest in. The top is colourful, personally I would look heinous with that lime colour so I would probably just go with black or pink. When buying a croptop, pay attention to where is ends on your body and make sure it works to make your porportons better.  I know brooches have died down but I think they are fabulous pieces to have. You can easily buy something that looks very similar to the Chanel and add it to your look. 

Get the look 

Brands: Maje, Zara, Sandro, Chanel 

Good For:  I would wear these styles when I am out with the girls, shopping or musuem dates.

Look#1: Wear matching sets. They are a good investment because not only do you get a complete outfit you also get two pieces that you can use at anytime. To make them more fun, accesories with cute pair of socks, hats or sunglasses. 

Look#2: Tweed can get very expensive very quickly but Zara usually does a lot of tweed. They are not the best of best and with Zara, sometimes you need to be willing to sew things in properly or fix a hem straight. A cute tweed jacket, with a crop top and trousers is our second look. I like the idea of tweed jacket and a crop top because it makes it more girly than what your grandma woul wear. Add a cute belly chain like the one Claudia Schiffer is wearing.

Look#3: Crop Top, mini skirt with a layered belt. I would suggest heeled Mary Janes or platform heels with this look so your legs can look extra long. Black mini skirt is a staple and will last you many more trends and looks than just this one so invest in a good one that makes you feel like a Chanel Girl. This look looks great with a half up, half down hairdo. Keep jewellery to a minimum but accesories your hair and your waist. 

Supermodel Off Duty 

I am going to tire you out by saying this but- Back To Basics. Look at how simple their outfits are, nothing is loud or revealing, everything harmoniusze. Yes, I know they look good because they are supermodels, but they look good because they stuck to the basics. All that they were wearing can be worn today by anyone and it will still look good.

90′s Supermodel’s Basics 

slip dress

mom jeans

white button down

fitted trousers

big statement belt 

gold hoops

suit set

knit dress

 Look #1: Denim jacket and jeans with a silm fitted black top. You are on your way to rival CIndy Crawford.

Look #2: Oversized blazer, knit jumper, mini skirt, tights and boots. Toussle your hair

 Look #3: Slip dress over a shirt, boots and a silver necklace. Go be grunge.

Look #4: Plain white tee, mom jeans  hoops,heels

Look #5: knit dress, statement belt

On the pinterest board for this post on 90s supermodels, there are some of my favourite models who I adore for their style. I know I am missing a couple from the big 5 but I like the women I have chosen as they have have the best overall aura. This took forever to write but I hope it was what you wear looking for. 

Much love,

Daphne xoxo

[nevertheless-moving]

Star Wars AU #20: MacenJar AU

Inspired by this meme and with permission from @simpskywalker

This au is dedicated to everyone who told me that this concept ‘gave them a headache’ or ‘psychic damage’. Especially that special someone who begged me to ‘please stop’ because ‘i hate this, i hate this so much’ and told me ‘please don’t say more words about this.’

Crack Lies Ahead, enough to consume a man. I have spoken.

“Ani. Ani. Anakin Skywalker.”

“Hmm?” The dulcet sounds of Padme calling his name dragged Anakin from sleep against his will. 

“Anakin, you have to get up.”

He groaned, rolling over. “...here’s my face...I’ll...be awake in a second...just sit down...I’m awake...”

“No, Anakin you have to leave, remember. You have a 5 AM take-off scheduled, and you made me promise I would get you up early this time, come on.”

She cruelly yanked the covers away. He gasped in betrayal. 

“My own wife...how could you.”

“Anakin if you’re not out of bed in the next 30 seconds the next time you beg to stay the night because ‘you can get up early, you swear’ I am kicking you out before anyone sits anywhere near anyone’s face, do you understand.”

He sat bolt upright and stumbled out of bed. “Ok, Ok, I’m up I- Padme!”

“Yes?” She asked sweetly, brushing her hair at the vanity. 

“It’s 3 AM!”

“Yes I know, you were going to stop at that bakery I recommended, remember?”

“You woke me up an hour and half early so I could stop at a bakery,” he asked, disbelieving.

“Yes, Anakin, it was your idea. It was going to be your cover, in case anyone wondered what you were doing in the building.”

“That is-” before he could call it the stupidest idea he had ever heard, the memory of promising Padme that staying the night was a good idea because it would facilitate his cunning ruse (he was distracted, ok? Padme was wearing a lot of layers) came rushing back.

“-right,” he finished lamely.

Padme just hummed and began braiding in her cosmetic forcefields. 

Anakin managed to stretch, complete his morning refresher run, and arrange his robes in a suitably decorous fashion by the time Padme had established the base layer of her hairstyle for the day.

A quick kiss- no goodbye, it hurt too much to say goodbyes in war - and Anakin was out the door. 

He idly scratched his chin, vacantly looking out the lift and vaguely considering growing a beard. The pre-dawn view was quickly replaced by metal walls as the ride dropped below the skyline.

The transparisteel pod began to slow scarcely one third of the way down. Anakin suppressed a groan and tried to arrange his expression in Jedi-stoic manner, hoping that whoever got in the lift with him would be too intimidated by seeing a Jedi close-up to think about what they were doing in a Senatorial Apartment building at 3:15 in the morning. If they ask, I’m visiting the famous Bebbisun Bakery. Bennison? BELLASAN. I’m visiting the Bellasan Bakery.

Actually, anyone getting into the elevator this early was probably also doing the walk of shame so it’s probably fi-KRIFFING SITH SPIT THAT’S

“Master Windu!” Anakin cleared his throat, trying to lower his voice an octave. “Good- Good Morning!”

Windu’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly. “Ah. Knight Skywalker. Good morning to you as well,” he replied, stepping in the elevator, doors closing behind.

The lift descended as Anakin’s heart rate skyrocketed. This was it. Windu had to be here for Anakin. What other possible explanation could there be? WHY WASN’T HE SAYING ANYTHING?

Wait.

What other possible explanation...could...why wasn’t he saying ANYTHING?

Anakin scrutinized Master Windu out of the corner of his eye. Were those...the same robes he was wearing yesterday? They looked like the same robes but then again...pretty much all robes looked the same so this was probably a stupid way to figure things out. Fuck, it was too early for this.

Unsurprisingly, he couldn’t get a sense of the Master’s surface emotions. But his underlying aura seemed...happy? Typically Windu's serene presence had a tinge of righteous fury (something that had frightened him back when he was a child). But now that ever present vaapad edge was... softened? Anakin wracked his tired brain for a more reasonable explanation than- than the obvious but obviously impossible. He had to projecting. Right? Then again...couplings weren’t forbidden (even if Anakin couldn’t quite understand how people enjoyed just- having sex without any attachment).

The corners of Anakin’s lips twitched. The Master of the Order. Getting laid. Master Windu. In the Senatorial apartments. Mace Windu. What level had he gotten on? Above aides...diplomats probably. Should he ask? Force, this was too good- he couldn’t not ask.

Windu stared at him cooly and the knight instantly sobered. What was he thinking? Windu was obviously trying to trick him! If he said anything, Windu would turn it against him! Well, he wouldn’t be fooled so easily. Anakin spent the next several levels of descent staring forward, determined not to be the one to break the silence. 

He was so focused that he didn’t notice the lift slowing prematurely again until the doors opened; an elderly Rodian hobbled in. The two Jedi moved even further apart to allow the man some space.  The lift closed and newcomer glanced at the humans curiously. 

“Aren’t you Jedi? What are two Jedi doing here so early?”

“Bakery,” Mace and Anakin responded in unison, heads snapping to stare at the other in surprise.

The Rodian chuckled. “Oh, that Bellasan place, right?”

“Yes,” Windu replied smoothly. “They have a famously unique caf blend.”

“And you can’t get Sweesonberry rolls anywhere else,” Anakin added quickly, not letting the opportunity to firm up his cover go to waste.

“You mammals and your carbohydrates,” The elderly reptilian clucked, bemused.

Knight Skywalker and Master Windu exchanged wary looks. The door pinged open on level 4848. 

“Enjoy!” the overly entertained Rodian called out as they stepped out from the closing doors.

Anakin cleared his throat. “After you, Master Windu,” he said politely. CHECKMATE FUCKER.

But Windu just nodded serenely, striding confidently ahead, past the checkpoints and into the attached upper-crust market. After a very short walk, Anakin found himself in line behind Mace Windu at a pastry shop in the basement of his wife’s apartment building.

Anakin blearily thought that sentence through again, then subtly pinched the inside of his arm.

Nope, he was awake.

Every second that passed Anakin had to fight the steadily increasing urge to blurt out something stupid, and possibly incriminating, if not both. Just say something bland! Nothing about why they’re both here so early. Nothing about coming here before. Something casual.

“Smells good,” Anakin said.

Nailed it!

“Indeed,” Mace replied.

I’m a genius! He actually thinks I’m here for the bakery! He’s never going to suspect a thing! He was probably here for some boring pre-dawn meeting, and now I’ve got the perfect excuse to come visit Padme whenever! I can probably start sneaking off more often, I’ve just got to remember to bring back a pasty or something. And he can’t even say shit about un-Jedi like consumption!

“Skywalker-”

Oh no. Please be about the bakery. Pleasebeaboutthe

“Believe me when I tell you that I’d rather not ask-”

Oh NO. THIS ISN’T GOING TO BE ABOUT THE BAKERY. I’M AN IDIOT.

“-But did you fly here in a temple speeder?”

Cold sweat started to trickle down Anakin’s back as they shuffled forward automatically in the surprisingly long queue. Guess that’s why Padme woke me up so early.

“Knight Skywalker? Did you hear me?”

“Yes, Master Windu, sorry- I was, uh, distracted by the specials board. I, um, have my own hoverbike. Built it myself. No temple resources involved.”

“Sounds...distinctive.” Windu’s tone seemed neutral, but the way he pinched the bridge of his nose was obviously irritated. They stepped forward again. Why are so many people at this bakery so early? Guess we’re far enough down that day/night cycles don’t matter so much. Oh kriff, he’s massaging his temples now. Why is he mad about the bike? Is he going to ask where I landed it? Fuck.

Anakin swallowed the lump in his throat. “I- I thought it would be better to take personal property. Since this isn’t exactly order business.”

“That’s very responsible of you. Such...separation of personal from professional is an important skill for a Jedi.” 

The trickle of sweat down his spine increased. The Chosen One discretely wiped his sweaty palms on the inside of his sleeves and prayed that his outer robe was hiding any growing pit stains. 

Are we...actually talking about this? Is he going to admit to having an affair? Is he going to tell me to keep this quiet? I CAN BARELY KEEP MY OWN RELATIONSHIP SECRET! Does he know about Padme? Does he know we’re married? Is this conversation still about the bakery visit? Is HE married?

“However...such a vehicle might not be the most discrete. And discretion is also an important skill.”

Is he giving me permission to use the temple landspeeders to visit padme? Is he telling me to take the bus? WAIT! IS THIS A METAPHOR? Is he telling me to come here less? Is this still about the bakery? Did I actually check that I wasn’t still asleep or did I just dream that I checked?

“Do you understand, Knight Skywalker”

“I- uhh. I mean- well, ummm- OH look, it’s your turn to order!”

Master Windu stepped up to the counter. 

“Hello, again! Same as last time?”

OH FORCE GODS HE’S A REGULAR. THIS IS IT. I’M NEVER GOING TO GET TO SEE OBI-WAN OR ASHOKA AGAIN AND PADME’S CAREER IS GOING TO BE RUINED AND

“The same blend please, but please add on one of your Sweesonberry rolls- a friend recommended them.”

...Did Mace Windu just call me his friend?

“Excellent choice! Your friend has good taste!”

Mace Windu stepped to the side and Anakin Skywalker stepped up. “...I’ll have what he had.” 

A minute or two later, they were walking back to the lift, matching disposamugs and flimsibags in hand. 

To try and delay the inevitable, the pale and now very sweaty young Jedi took a sip of caf. He raised both brows involuntary. “This is...really good. Holy kriff. I don’t usually drink caf for the flavor but...wow.”

“Worth the trip?” Windu asked. Anakin choked a little but successfully managed to swallow. He took another sip to avoid answering. 

Windu took a bite of his roll, making a small noise of appreciation, “The pastry is also excellent. I don’t have much of a sweet tooth but this is remarkably smooth...I can’t say I’ve ever had anything quite like it.”

“Floral, right?” Anakin said, grinning into his cup. 

“Yes, that’s a good description.” Ha! I told Padme I was paying attention.

They drank companionably as the lift indicator dinged closer. 

“Skywalker...you’re parked on 4970, right?”

The knight nodded, too afraid to speak. The force seemed to swirl at the precipice of something. 

The Master sighed. “Look- I’ve got an unregistered van- this one time only, stow the speeder, and I’ll give you a ride back. If you’re visiting the bakery in the future- please take something with a closed cab. Last thing we need is the tabloids wondering where you’re going...”

Anakin nodded again, more eagerly again. He was practically being given permission to visit Padme! That was totally worth an excruciatingly awkward flight back to the temple! He just had to chew slowly so he couldn’t blurt out anything marriage related! He was a genius!

The lift opened.

“Jar-Jar!” Anakin said, surprised and pleased. “Wow, are you also here for the bakery? This place really is popular!”

“Ani! Little Ani! Wassa you doin here?” Jar-Jar looked around wildly, then stumbled out, foot catching at the gap. Windu darted forward and effortlessly saved the Gungan before he hit the floor, while Anakin stuck his arm forward to catch the closing door.

“Bakery, Jar Jar!” he said as he stepped inside. “I’d love to talk, but we’ve actually got to get back to the temple!”

Windu struggled to untangle himself from Jar-Jar, who was being particularly unhelpful about it, even for him. Wow he’s even clingier than usual this early in the morning. It’s nice how patient Master Windu is being; I feel like even Obi-Wan can be too hard on Jar-Jar sometimes.

“Actually Skywalker, why don’t you go on ahead and stow the bike- I just remembered I meant to pick something up for Council; I won’t take long.”

“Uh. Alright,” Anakin said, catching the keys. I guess I can’t really be late if I arrive with Master Windu.

“Ossa no!” Jar-Jar exclaimed sadly. “I was justa saying to Macey lassa night thatsa I missed talkin wit little Ani!”

Anakin smiled reassuringly as the lift began to close. “Don’t worry Jar-Jar! We’ll- catch uh-HOLD ON did you say LAST NIGHT?!”

Mace’s eyes closed in resignation as the door shut on the pair, Jar-Jar still tangled around the Jedi.

AND MACE WASN’T EVEN TRYING TO PUT HIM BACK UPRIGHT ANYMORE HOLY KRIFF JUST PUT THAT TOGETHER.

Anakin stared blankly at the metal walls as they rushed past. The lone Jedi Knight took a long sip of caff, then carefully placed the pastry bag and drink on the floor. He systematically wadded up the sleeve of his robe and shoved in his mouth. He then spent the next few minutes squealing with unholy glee while literally bouncing off the walls in a manner only accessible to a force sensitive in an elevator. He was still panting slightly when the lift opened on the primary parking level.

We can double date! Padme and I can host! I can help Mace and Jar-Jar plan their wedding! We can reform the order to allow for romantic love! I can be Jar-Jar’s best man! Padme and I can have another ceremony and Obi-Wan can give me away while Mace officiates and  and then we’ll all have sweesonbury cake and Jar-Jar can help teach our kids how to swim! 

With those dreamy thoughts running through his mind, it was child’s work to follow the the force to the unremarkable hovervan. He was humming to himself when Master Windu opened the door. 

He beamed at the older Jedi. Windu scowled in reply. Anakin smiled wider, unintimidated. He genuinely liked the Gungan, but anyone who could spend hours with Jar-Jar had to have a soft side.

“You know, Jar-Jar is a long time friend of Senator-”

“No.” Windu cut the eager words brusquely. 

Anakin shrank back, a little hurt.

(Maybe a lot hurt.)

Mace glanced over at the obviously crestfallen young General and sighed before amending his words.

“Not- Not right now, alright? Maybe if you’re miraculously more discrete about this than you are about your affection for Senator Amidala, then we can talk, understood?”

Anakin nodded with absolute determination, glimmering images of fairytale weddings visible once more. Distant, perhaps- but the chance was worth any amount of tongue biting. Now that there was a real, possible future where he could have it all, now that he knew Windu had a heart somewhere under his robes- he could be patient. 

He could be very patient.

Anakin calmed his grin down to a smaller, more Jedi-like smile, taking a sip of the cool but still really good caf. He channeled Obi-Wan’s most neutral diplomatic grace.

“Thank you for the ride, Master Windu. I appreciate it.”

Windu gave him an approving glance. “You’re more than welcome, Knight Skywalker.”

Feeling bold, he continued on with his best non-mocking impression of Obi-Wan.

"Have you had a chance to read the latest report on helmet redesigns? I think they might really improve peripheral vision without compromising concussive resistance.”

Mace hummed thoughtfully. “I have. I’m somewhat concerned about deploying such a radical change mid-campaign. Even better gear requires an adjustment period, and I’d rather minimize needless deaths while the troops readjust to hud flow.”

“Yes, that’s a reasonable concern, I was talking to Captain Rex-”

They spent the remainder of the flight chatting comfortably about troop safety and absentmindedly eating (or possibly stress eating in response to the prolonged absence of interpersonal conflict) the box of pastries Mace had picked up. When they arrived at the temple, they divvied up the remainder between them, quietly agreeing that there weren’t enough to share anyway. 

They continued their conversation, Master Windu accompanying him to the orbital loading bay. 

Obi-Wan rushed over in alarm at the sight of them approaching. “Anakin, there you are- I was starting to wonder if you’d make it. Terribly sorry Master Windu- I hope he wasn’t too much of a bother-”

“He’s not your padawan anymore, you don’t have to apologize for him. Though I do appreciate the reflex.”

“I suppose the concern isn’t completely baseless.” Anakin said, tone deliberately mildly. Mace chuckled slightly and Obi-Wan took a step back, slightly frightened by the sudden camaraderie. Anakin pretended to take a sip from his now empty disposamug to avoid fist pumping the air or cheering.

“I- Yes well- the important thing is you’re here in time for departure. What- what is that in the bag.”

Moment of Truth. Don’t freak out. Focus. Prove you can be discrete, THEN double dates, THEN Jedi Wedding Ceremony.

“Sweesonbury Roll,” Anakin answered placidly. He pretended to take another sip of caf. “Master Windu was kind enough to give me a ride from the bakery.”

“That’s- I’m sorry, what?” Anakin bit the inside of cheek to keep himself from reacting to Obi-Wan’s palpable bewilderment.

“I had to double back and get more, but we came straight here after,” Mace added helpfully, with zero hint of intentional mischief. “Oh and Skywalker- you can call me Mace if we’re not discussing temple business.”

Anakin SCREAMED (internally, of course). Outwardly, he simply bowed politely. “And you’re welcome to call me Anakin, of course.”

He deliberately avoided looking directly at Obi-Wan, his former Master’s bug-eyed reaction already pushing him to the edge, even just visible as it was out of the corner of his eye.

Windu nodded in return. “Safe travels you two. May the force with you.”

“And with you.” Anakin replied.

“May the force be with you,” Obi-Wan rushed to say, after a short delay.

Master Windu turned and exited the cargo bay doors. Anakin threw out the mug in a nearby bin, pulling out a roll and biting into it before turning to face Obi-Wan. They made eye-contact, each waiting for the other to break first. Usually that would be Anakin, but he had goals now. The Knight chewed. His Master’s eyes narrowed. The older man (who may have aged significantly in the last 5 minutes) finally broke.

“Who are you?”

Anakin just sighed, maintaining the Kenobi impression. “Come on Master, we don’t want to keep the troops waiting.” With that, he��walked forward, hiding his smile as Obi-Wan followed closely at his heels. 

“Since when does my apprentice visit bakeries with Mace Windu?” Obi-Wan asked, almost desperately.

“You’re making it sound like a bigger deal than it is.” 

Master Kenobi sputtered as the pair opened the airlock for the short-range shuttle. 

Anakin mustered up an earnest smile. “Master? Would you mind flying- I’m still eating and-”

Obi-Wan made an incoherent noise of horrified outrage before fumbling for his communicator. 

“What are you doing?”

“NOTHING IS MAKING SENSE RIGHT NOW. EITHER YOU AND MACE NEED TO GO TO THE HEALING HALLS OR I DO!”

Anakin burst out laughing. “Relax Obi-Wan, I’m messing with you, holy shit. Obviously I’m flying.”

Obi-Wan slumped into the co-pilot seat, rubbing at his eyes. “Don’t do that Anakin! My nerves are stretched thin enough by the war as it is-”

“Sorry, Sorry!”

They strapped in and took off, Anakin still chuckling occasionally, Obi-Wan scowling in irritation each time. 

They ascended above the towering skyline alongside the first rays of sunlight.

“So you didn’t go to a bakery with Master Windu this morning?”

“Uhh-”

[the-iceni-bitch]

A Surprise to be Sure

Pairing: Geralt/Fem!Reader

Words: 5761

Summary:  You meet Geralt and Jaskier on the road and have a lovely little adventure in the kingdom of Temeria.

Warnings: Explicit language, explicit sexual content, explicit descriptions of violence, TW mentions of rape, SMUT, 18+

A/N: It’s here y’all, my b-day Geralt fic! I’m really happy with how this turned out and could honestly have published it without the smut, that’s how much I love this fic. It is definitely going to be part of a series so I hope you all enjoy! (PS I love writing Jaskier way too much and could honestly just do a full series of him having random misadventures all over the continent!) I’m tagging @navybrat817​ because I know she loves some Henry Cavill

Jaskier had been belting the Fishmonger’s Daughter for the past 30 minutes, and Geralt was ready to murder him.

“Must you insist on shouting our position to every living creature in a 5 mile radius?” He hissed at the bard.

“List, my grumpy, hoar-headed friend. I need to be sure my voice is in top form if I’m performing at a royal ball. Now, you’ll feel better if you sing with me, Oooh Fishmonger, Oh Fishmonger, Come Quell your Daughter’s Hunger!”

“I’m going to feed you that damn lute before we reach the castle if you don’t shut up. I can’t listen to this for three days.” The Witcher growled under his breath. He couldn’t figure out why he had agreed to accompany the irritating man on his journey, but the man always managed to convince him to go along with his stupid plans.  

“Now, Geralt. You know you secretly love my singing. After all, how many jobs has that little song of mine rustled up for you, eh? Stop being so grouchy.”

He gave him a grunt. “Fine, can you at least sing something else?”

“Ah, but of course, my large, angry friend. Eh hem, You think you’re safe, without a care…”

“Gods, not that one.”

“Well, there’s no pleasing you is there. Ahh, what’s that noise?”

A feminine shriek split the air, causing a flock of birds to take flight only a few feet from the pair of riders. Roach of course didn’t mind, but Jaskier’s mount almost threw him, causing Geralt to smile.

“Gods, see, this is why I hate travelling on these creatures. Give me a nice coach ride any time. Come Geralt, let us see what fair maiden is in need of our assistance.”

“Our assistance?”

“Well, your assistance. C’mon Geralt, a damsel in distress, this is the perfect material for a new song.”

Geralt followed the idiot as he rode towards the sounds of distress, determined to keep him from getting himself killed. He didn’t really like getting involved in petty issues of the realms but knew that Jaskier lived for these tiny adventures.

They came upon you, surrounded by five men in soiled armor. Your cart had a broken wheel and was sinking into the snow and mud. One of the men had you pinned in the back of the cart by your neck as he buried his other hand in your skirts. The other men jeered at you as they kept their watch.

“Look Geralt, a fair maid waiting to be rescued, what could make for a better song? Ho there fellows, stop your raping or you’ll have to deal with my cantankerous companion here.”

“Move along, bard this doesn’t concern you.” One of the soldiers growled at Jaskier before spitting to the side. “Or, wait your turn and we’ll let you and your pal have her when we’re done.”

“Ah, Geralt, I’ll let you take care of them. Make sure to draw it out, a long fight always makes for a better song.”

“Oh, fuck this.” You hissed, pulling out the stiletto you had hidden in your skirts and gutting the man who was restraining you.

Jaskier turned his head and vomited as the man’s intestines seeped out of him and he crumbled to the forest floor. You flung your cloak off your shoulders as you drew the obscenely large longsword you had concealed beneath its folds and chopped off the hand of the next soldier who came charging at you before plunging it into his chest.

“I don’t know, bard. Seems like the maid has things under control.” Geralt grinned at his companion once he had finished emptying his stomach.

You wrenched the blade free as the two unhorsed soldiers rushed you. One of them tossed his own dagger at you and you used your sword to whip it back at him, catching him in the throat. You brought up your dagger and crossed the blades you were holding to catch the sword of your fourth opponent. You managed to loop the dagger under his hilt and wrenched the sword from his grasp as you let the momentum from his attack carry you the two of you backwards, flipping him over your head until you were straddling his chest. You gave him a small smirk as your drove your dagger through his eye.

“Shouldn’t we be doing something?” Jaskier asked as he watched the bloody show with abject horror painted on his face.

“What would you suggest bard? The woman seems to be able to handle herself, and I can’t say these soldiers seem particularly deserving of assistance.”

The final soldier had dismounted and was now striding towards you, twirling his sword around like an idiot peacock. You scowled at him before pulling a massive crossbow from beneath the packages in your cart and shooting him in the shoulder.

He went down with a soft grunt and you strutted over to him, crossbow slung over your shoulder and dagger twirling through your fingers. You tutted at him like you were chiding a naughty schoolboy.

“Oh, Abbett, what did you do with the money? I certainly hope you have it on you. I don’t feel like trekking through this frozen forest digging for it.”

“You cunt.” The man spat at you. “We fought those bloody Nilfgaardians to keep these farmers safe and warm. The least they can do to thank us is give up a few bloody coins and their daughters.”

You shot him again in the leg and he let out a scream.

“One more time, Abbett, the money? I can’t give those poor girls their maidenhoods again but maybe their families can offer a dowry to make them good matches.”

“Argh, bitch! It’s in the saddlebags.”

“Excellent! See, not so fucking difficult, and you saved me the nasty task of gelding you!” You took a few steps forward and shot him through the eye as you went to examine the horse and find the stolen coins.

“Ahem, hello, madam! I am Jaskier the Bard and this is my companion, Geralt of Rivia! Would you join us on our journey to the capital of Temeria? You seem like a lass with stories to tell and I’m just the fellow to put them to song.”

“Jaskier, shut the fuck up.” Geralt hissed at him.

You whipped around to the two of them and pointed your crossbow at the Witcher. “Fuck, I almost forgot about you two. Well, you’ve given me a bit of a conundrum boys. I was counting on there not being any witnesses here. These vagabonds are still wearing the king’s colors after all, and we’re close enough to the capital that that could prove to be a problem for me.” You had started to unfasten the bodice of the gown you were wearing, desperate to get out of the confining layers of cloth that had comprised your disguise. You revealed an outfit of bleached leather and furs that clung to your body.

“Oops.” Jaskier murmured, giving Geralt a sheepish grin as he raised his hands in supplication. “Geralt, friend, maybe you can talk to our new companion.”

“Right, listen, we don’t care that you just slaughtered five of the king’s soldiers, though I’m sure upon closer inspection they’ll be shown to be deserters. And as we have no desire to bring any trouble down on you, we’ll just be on our way.”

“Wait,” You called after them, tossing the rags of your gown onto the abandoned cart as you saddled your horse. “If you’re heading towards the capital, I’ll join you. I have some deliveries to make before I get out of this god-forsaken country, and that way I can keep an eye on you.” You gave them a grin as you rode up the hill to join them. “I can think of worse company than a bard and a Witcher.”

Jaskier shot a grin back at you as you joined them. “Ah, finally someone who will appreciate my talents. Tell me… um..”

“Y/N”

“Y/N, lovely, do you have any requests?”

Geralt groaned internally at the thought of being stuck with two singing idiots for the journey but was cut short by the sound of multiple bows being drawn.

“Fuck.”

“That’s far enough you three.” A captain in shining armor commanded as you came into view of a mounted regiment of king’s soldiers, accompanied by about 100 footmen who all had arrows trained on you. “What do you know about several groups of dead king’s men that have been found in these woods.”

Geralt shot you a look of reproach over his shoulder as you pointedly avoided making eye contact, examining your fingernails like they were the most interesting thing on the continent.

“There’s another group of dead soldiers in the clearing back there, captain. Looks like we’ve found our culprits.”

“Oh, just wait a minute. My grouchy friend and I were just passing through when we came upon this lovely woman being set upon by these supposed kingsmen. Granted, we considered dispatching them ourselves but our fair companion had things well in hand. Seems like she was doing your jobs for you.”

You and Geralt shared a groan. “Shut up, Jaskier.”

The captain gave a snort of derision. “You want us to believe this pretty thing has been besting the king’s chosen troops on her own for months? Take their weapons and restrain the Witcher and the woman. The bard can sing us some songs to pass the time as we travel. We’ll save this for the king to sort out.”

You gave a heavy sigh and started handing over your blades. Jaskier’s eyes started to bulge as you continued pulling smaller and smaller knives out of an increasingly absurd number of hiding places, until there was an impressive pile in front of the soldier who had been tasked with collecting your weapons.

Geralt was less forthcoming in turning over his weapons and didn’t really start until a spear prodded him in the back. He was gazing at Renfri’s blade when the captain lost his patience, and the butt of the spear whipped across the back of his head, knocking him cold.

“Put his blades with the rest of it.”

Geralt woke up with his face buried in your hair and let out a groan at the throbbing in his skull.

“What the fuck?” He lifted his head, squinting against the sun reflecting off the new fallen snow.

“Good morning, Witcher. Apparently this type of restraint has been proven to limit the ability of the restrained to extricate themselves from their bindings. You missed a fascinating lecture on it as they were tying us up.”

The two of you were bound face to face on the saddle of your massive black courser. Your arms and legs tangled around each other and wrapped in an intricate series of knots. He started trying to wrench himself free, but only succeeded in bringing you even closer to him as he let out a grunt of frustration.

“Look at the two of you, so cozy.” Jaskier rode up with a grin on his face, strumming his lute. “Do not worry yourselves, my violent friends. I am currently working on a plan to extricate the two of you from this predicament. I have the ear of the captain.”

“Are you going to annoy him to death Jaskier? Maybe if you sing that damn abortion song enough times, he’ll release us just to be rid of you.”

“You wound me, Geralt. The name of that tune is “You Think You’re Safe” and you’ll be happy to know that the captain is enamored of my talents and has asked me to regale him and his officers at their meal tonight.”

“Ah, good for you Jaskier. Make sure to sing the ‘Fishmonger’s Daughter’ I hear that’s a favorite of the troops.” You smiled at him, throwing him a wink.

“Oh, I knew I liked you, Y/N! See Geralt, it isn’t so hard to appreciate what I bring to the table. Thank you for your advice, sweet lady, I will be sure to take heed!” He rode off, humming to himself as he tuned his lute.

“Why would you encourage him?” Geralt growled in your ear, still fighting against his bonds.

“Ah, Witcher, you need to relax. I’m sure Jaskier’s plan will work out just fine.”

“The bard is an imbecile, the day I trust myself to any plan of his is the day I resign myself to a slow and painful death.”

“Well, be that as it may, if you don’t stop struggling, we’re going to end up in a very uncomfortable situation.” You said, giving a gasp as another jerk of your bonds brought you indecently close.

“Fuck.” He let out in a hiss, resigning himself to waiting for a better opportunity as a lock of your hair blew into his face, smelling of pine and turned earth “I don’t suppose you have any sort of plan of escape, since it’s your fault we’re in this situation.”

“Geralt, I do apologize that you have ended up in my mess. I’m so sorry that the war with Nilfgaard has caused unprecedented levels of desertion, and that the cowards that have runoff have been terrorizing and robbing the smallfolk. And I’m sorry that the king failed to listen to the pleas of his people, who had to pool together the last of their coin to contract me to come in and relieve them of their problems. But yes, this mess is entirely of my own making, and nothing to do with the colossal mismanagement of the realm of Temeria.”

“Hmmph.” He grunted into your hair. “So how are you getting us out of this mess?”

You gave him a snort. “Don’t worry that pretty head of yours Witcher, something will work out.”

“Alright, dismount.” One of the lieutenants ordered, leering at the two of you. “Hope you two have enjoyed today’s ride. I hear they’re already constructing a gibbet for you in Vizima.”

“I see the royal council has decided to do away with even the minimal farce of a trial then.”

Two soldiers had started to undo the maze of knots binding you and the Witcher together and you gave a hiss as blood started to flow back into your legs.

“An attack on the king’s army is an attack on the king. No trials for traitors to the crown.”

“You do know that neither of us are citizens of this kingdom?” Geralt asked him. “You can’t betray a monarch you don’t serve.”

“Pssh, a minor inconsistency. The king can’t be seen as soft during wartime.”

“Oh, of course not.” You murmured as the soldiers dragged you off your mount and led you to the prisoners’ tent that had been erected next to the officers’. The same intricate raveling of ropes and knots started again as they bound your upper bodies to the poles in the center of the tent. You could hear the beginnings of revelry in the officers’ pavilion when they left you.

“Well, now what?” Geralt asked you, pulling against the bonds at his wrists.

“Just, have a little patience.” You chided him, leaning against your pole in as relaxed of a pose as you could achieve.

“You did hear that they plan on executing us once they get us back to the capital?”

“No, Geralt, I missed that.” You spat at him as you heard Jaskier start to sing and gave a small smile. “Excellent, let’s hope he leaves the good stuff until they’re well and drunk.”

“What are you talking about, Y/N?” He asked you, still trying to wrench himself free.

“For fucks’ sake, give it a rest. Apparently the royal knot tyers are the only members of this army who haven’t fallen lax in their duties.” You rolled your eyes at him. “Just give it a half hour and we’ll give you a chance to get out all the pent up aggression.”

“So you do have a plan? Any chance you want to let me in on it?”

“I think I’ll leave it for a surprise.”

The two of you sat there listening as the sounds of drunken celebration filled the camp. It only took 20 minutes for the revelry to reach a dull roar, and a smile crept over your face when you heard the first refrains of ‘The Fishmonger’s Daughter’.

“Ah, Jaskier, perfect timing.” You muttered.

The song started speeding up and spread through the regiment. You heard the soldiers start clapping along and seized your moment, bending your legs and driving your back into the post you were bound to at each clap, starting to shift it out of the ground with each drive of your shoulders.

Geralt finally seized on your idea and joined you in wrenching his post out of the ground. Within a few rounds of the song, they were loosened enough for you to drag them out of their anchors, causing the tent to collapse around you. You slipped your bonds over the ends of the posts and unraveled yourselves. Geralt gave you a look of appreciation as you hefted your post, flung the folds of the fallen tent off yourself and whipped the post around to take out the two guards that had been posted at the entrance.

“Well, let’s find our weapons, shall we?” You said, giving him a grin.

Apparently, your appraisal of the army had been accurate; you ran into minimal resistance as you made your way to the weapons tent and managed to knock out the only sentries you encountered before Geralt had a chance to react.

“Ah, my babies.” You said to yourself as you started resheathing the ridiculous number of knives you had accumulated for yourself, kissing each blade before you returned it to its rightful place.

“How can you possibly be comfortable wearing all of that steel?” Geralt asked you around a grin, watching you tuck a dirk between your breasts and wondering how you managed to not cut yourself.

“I’m a woman traveling the continent alone, Witcher. I’ve found that the element of surprise is my friend, and there’s nothing quite as surprising as an unexpected knife between the ribs.”

He actually laughed at that, strapping one sword to his back and one to his hip as you hefted your crossbow and loaded it with a bolt before heading back out into the snow.

You were met by the surprised faces of a drunken group of soldiers who were wending their way through the tents, arms around each other as the slurred the lyrics to their favorite song. You shot the first through the chest as you drew your longsword over your shoulder and you dropped your crossbow to the ground, slashing the second across the face before they finally regained their composure and sounded the alarm.

Geralt drew his blades and clashed with three of the remaining soldiers as you grappled with the other two. He managed to drive his long sword through one of their chests before the other two had a chance to converge on him and he struggled to drive them apart with his fists to allow himself room to maneuver. One of his opponents went down suddenly with a dagger through his throat and Geralt threw a look your way to see your first opponent down and missing an eye as you drove your knee into the chest of your second opponent, driving him into a post as you brought your sword around and ran it across his throat.

Geralt threw his assailant over his shoulder and rammed his blade through his chest as you let out a shrill whistle and hefted your crossbow as the sound of hoofbeats rose through the camp. Roach and your courser came charging around the bend suddenly and you latched onto your steed’s mane and swung yourself onto his back as Geralt vaulted onto Roach’s. You turned suddenly and led him back towards the officers’ pavilion as drunken soldiers did their best to pursue you.

“We almost forgot the fucking bard!” You grinned at him as you hopped off your horse and slashed through the back of the officers’ tent. You emerged seconds later with a terrified looking Jaskier, who you tossed over the back of your mount like a sack of potatoes before leaping up behind him and kicking your steed to a gallop.

“Either of you want to fill me in on what the fuck is happening?!” Jaskier shrieked as he bounced around.

The two of you ignored him as you rode on. You set a punishing pace through the whole night, not looking back until you crossed the river into the kingdom of Redania as the sun rose and you finally allowed your horses to slow their pace to a walk, dismounting to give them a rest.

“If my lute is damaged, I’ll never forgive you.” Jaskier whined as he inspected his instrument, hobbling along as he tried to adjust after the unceremonious thrashing he had taken during the ride.

“Jaskier, a little thanks should be in order. Y/N and I did save you from a rather nasty execution after all.” Geralt grinned at him as he walked beside you, Roach nuzzling him in the shoulder as he patted her snout.

“I told the two of you, I had the captain’s ear, I would have been able to talk us out of any trouble.”

You gave him a snort as your courser butted his head into yours, begging for his own pats. “Jaskier, you would have been strung up right beside us. Just think though, this little adventure has the makings of a great song, eh? I’ll buy you a nice hot meal and a bath at the inn we’re coming up on.”

“Well, I’d never say no to a bath. How close is this inn?”

“Just over the next hill.”

You arrived within an hour and made arrangements for the horses as Jaskier headed in to arrange rooms and meals for the three of you.

Geralt and you headed into the inn and you grabbed the two of you the largest mugs of beer you could arrange before joining Jaskier at a table and tearing into the trencher of bread.

“So, good news first.” The bard said. “I arranged for nice, hot baths for all three of us, in addition to our meals. The only thing is, they only had two rooms.”

Geralt let out a groan at that. “Fine, bard, I guess the two of us are sharing accommodations for the next few days then.”

“Aah, well. I figured, with you two having grown so close during our little journey, that you wouldn’t mind sharing the much, much larger room whilst I make due with the tiny, lonely room myself that I’ve already had them unload my things into.”

The two of you shot him equally reproachful looks over your mugs of beer as a barmaid arrived to let him know his bath was ready.

“Ah, splendid. Well, you two enjoy your breakfasts. I’m going to take a very long nap after my bath and I’ll see you this afternoon, or maybe even tomorrow.”

A whole roasted chicken arrived and the two of you tore into it without a word, polishing it off quickly as you hadn’t realized how famished you were.

“I’ll arrange for them to bring up the hot water for baths for us.” You told Geralt as you stood up and stretched, downing the last of your beer.

“I’m fine without.” The Witcher grumbled at you.

You gave him a derisive chuckle. “If we’re bedding together for the two days it’ll take for the horses to rest up, you’re bathing yourself at least once, I don’t need to smell everywhere you’ve been in the past month.”

He gave an uncomfortable shrug of his shoulders as he followed you upstairs. It had been a while since he’d spent the night with a woman he wasn’t paying, and there was something about you he found disarming. Endearing, but disarming nonetheless.

“Ah, at least there’s two tubs.” You said gleefully as you entered the room. A group of attendants arrived a moment later, carrying four large buckets of steaming water between them that they emptied into the copper tubs before taking their leave.

You started by pulling off your supple boots and Geralt turned his back as he began to unlace his jerkin. He heard you give a soft laugh behind him. “Are we really going to pretend like neither of us have seen a naked body before, Witcher?”

He whipped around at the amusement in your voice. You had removed your corset and sleeves and were down to nothing but a thin linen tunic on top. He tried not to stare at the shape of your breasts moving beneath the fabric as you worked at unlacing your breeches. You shot him a wicked look through your lashes as you moved your fingers back to unstrap the multiple sheathes that had been hidden beneath your bodice.

He did his best to ignore you as he ripped his jerkin off over his head. He made easy work of his tunic and breeches and sank into the tub while you were still working on undoing the intricate trappings of your hidden arsenal.

“I really don’t see how you can be comfortable in all of that Y/N.” He chided you as you removed the final straps and drew your tunic over your head before shimmying out of your breeches. He did his best to keep his eyes occupied elsewhere as you stepped into your own bath, hissing at the heat.

“Comfort is a matter of individual preference, dear. Oh, that’s wonderful.” You sank into the water with a sigh and dunked your head under before coming back up with a gasp.

“So, you going to tell me how you ended up with a warhorse, enough steel to equip a small band of thieves, and the strength to wield a tentpole like a damn quarterstaff, or is that something I’ll have to guess at?” He asked as he dumped a bucket over his head and ran the water through his hair before shaking it back out and splashing you, making you yelp.

“I think I’ll keep that my little secret for now, Geralt. Maybe if you buy me a few strongales over the next few days I’ll regale you with my tale of woe.” You let out a sigh as you felt your muscles relax. “Maybe I’ll get you to tell me your history as well. I hear the Redanians have a liquor that will light your chest on fire and make you forget the seasons.”

He gave a laugh and settled his head back against the tub. “You think you can outdrink me girl, you’re in for a nasty surprise… fuck.” He hadn’t heard you leave your tub and sat up startled when you crawled into his, sloshing water over the sides.

“Oh, Geralt, you’ll find that I’m full of surprises.” You said before pressing your mouth to his softly and giving a gentle sigh.

He got over his surprise quickly and wrapped his arms around you, pressing you to him fiercely as he growled against your lips.

You gave him a small laugh as you moved your lips down the line of his jaw to his neck, running your teeth along his collarbone before nipping at him softly as your hands moved down the plains of his chest, dipping below the water to take his cock in your grasp. He gave you a satisfying moan as you did so and you began sliding your hand up and down his length slowly as you raised a small bruise on his shoulder with your mouth.

He bucked his hips up into your hand as you increased your pace and you moved your other hand below the water to play with his balls. You leaned against his chest and gazed up at him with heavy lids as you watched him come apart under your ministrations.

He arched his back and gave a heavy moan as he came in your hand and you grinned against his chest as he softened, planting soft kisses along his throat as he came down and his breathing slowed.

He swallowed thickly and grinned at you before scooping his arms underneath you and lifting you out of the tub easily, making you shriek with glee before he dropped you unceremoniously on the large bed and pounced on top of you, nuzzling himself into the skin below your ear as his large hands skimmed down the sides of your torso before coming to rest on your hips and kneading them, raising bruises on your soft skin.

He brought one hand between the two of you and ran his fingers through the soft hair of your mound before rubbing them between your folds, making you arch into him as you let out a thin whine, fluttering your lashes as you gazed at him. He grinned down at you as he inserted two fingers at an agonizingly slow pace and you moaned as he started fucking them into you, curling them against that sweet, spongy spot each time.

He added another finger as he buried his face in your hair, inhaling your clean scent as you mewled and whimpered, begging him for more. He started strumming your clit with his thumb and you writhed underneath him, doing your best to grind your cunt into him as his fingers stretched you.

It was almost too much when he added the fourth finger and you wrapped your hands in his silver hair, pressing his face to your neck as you cried silently. He moved his mouth back to yours as he increased his speed and pressure on your tiny bud, moving his tongue softly past your lips and tangling it with yours. You came around him, clenching down on his fingers in your release as all the breath rushed out of you. He felt you go rigid beneath him before you collapsed back against the bed with a sigh.

“You think you’re ready for me sweetheart?” He asked as he kissed your neck, moving his hands up to palm your breasts.

You pulled his head back by his hair and gave him a grin before squeezing his sides with your thighs and rolling until you were on top of him, straddling his hips.

You sat up over him and he groaned at the sight of you, soft skin moving over lean muscle, a patchwork of faint scars covering your torso. He ran his thumb over an especially noticeable one that ran over your ribs below your left breast as you guided him to your entrance and sheathed his length inside you suddenly, making him hiss.

You started grinding against him, rubbing your clit against his pubic bone before you started fucking yourself on his cock. He tossed his head back with a moan and a murmured “Fuck” as his hands moved to your hips and guided your thrusts, meeting your hips with his own as he rutted up into you.

He sat up suddenly and pressed you to him as he knelt beneath you, staring into your eyes with lust blown pupils, a thin golden ring around a pool of deep black. You wrapped your legs around his back as he fucked up into you at a faster pace, making it hard for you to breathe.

He wrenched your head down to his and crashed his mouth against yours, his tongue invading you hungrily as you felt your pleasure starting to coil in your abdomen and you whimpered into his mouth.

He felt you starting to clench around him and moved a hand between you to strum at your clit. It only took a moment and you were flying apart around him, every muscle below your waist spasming as your orgasm wracked you and you cried into his mouth. His release was right behind yours as his hips stilled and you felt his spend spurting into you, coating your velvety walls in his release with a feral growl.

He collapsed back on the bed, still holding you to him as you both came down from you pleasure, breathing heavily as your hearts pounded together. You propped your chin on his chest and gave him a sinful grin that he returned, planting a kiss on the top of your head as you started to untangle yourselves.

“Well, if all your surprises are that pleasant, Y/N, I can’t wait to find out more.” He said to you over his shoulder as he stood up from the bed, grabbing a towel to finish drying himself off. He tossed you one and you ran it softly between your thighs, cleaning the mixture of your releases from your slit as you grinned back at him.

“My dear Witcher, I aim to please.” You threw a wink at him before you stood up and stretched. “I arranged for some clean clothes to be brought up, could you check the door for them?”

He peeked his head out and brought in two sets of soft woolens, tossing one to you. You yanked a tunic over your head before stepping into the clean pair of breeches. You decided to forgo most of your blades for the moment, opting for a simple belt that contained two daggers once you had finished lacing up your bodice.

“Shall we head down for more ale?”

“Gods yes, what else do you know about this storied Redanian liquor?”

You gave him a throaty laugh as you headed down to the main room and lute music floated up to meet you.

“Ah, Y/N! Geralt! My friends! Join us for a song won’t you? Y/N, I still want to hear you sing ‘The Fishmonger’s Daughter’ for us, eh? Oh Fishmonger, Oh Fishmonger, Come Quell your Daughter’s Hunger”

“Gods, Jaskier, aren’t you sick of that song yet?” Geralt growled half heartedly

“Pull the stick out of your ass, Witcher. C’mon, Jaskier. To pull on my horn, as it rises in the morn!”

“What a lovely voice you have my lady! For tis naught but bad luck, to fuck with a puck!”

The Witcher rolled his eyes at the two of you as he headed to the bar and the rest of the patrons joined in. What he wouldn’t give to never hear this abominable tune ever again.

“Lest your grandkid be born, a hairy young faun! Bleating and baying all day, hey ho!”

Permanent Tags:

@drabblewithfrannybarnes​

[neonacity]

Black Daisies Chapter 5| Canzona

Preview:

“Only the dead have seen the end of war.”

An NCT mafia AU with OT23. 

Summary: Working for the mafia comes with many layers. There’s excitement, violence, loss, and betrayals. Yet there’s also friendship, family, loyalty, and code. The last thing it needs? Love and all the complexities it brings.

TW: violence, death, mentions of drugs and other illegal activities. If you’re uncomfortable with any of these, feel free to skip. Author’s note: This is purely a work of fiction. In no way am I supporting all the illegal activities and behaviors that might be mentioned in the story nor am I implying that any member of NCT acts whichever way I may write them here--they’re all sweetiepies that need to be protected.

Chapter: 1/ First Stage

Chapter: 2/Overture

Chapter: 3/The Conductor

Chapter: 4/Crescendo

The fog of smoke from the lighted cigarette mixed with the cold breath coming from blood red lips. A woman stood in a small overhead overlooking the city, watching the shadows move across Seoul like a dark cloud bidding disaster. 

The sound of gravel crunching under boots sounded from behind her. She didn’t acknowledge it at first, however, instead dropping the nearly finished stick of nicotine between her fingers to the ground. A gust of air blew the stray stub away, its embers flaring up slightly before dying out. 

“You shouldn’t have come here.”

For a moment, it was only silence that answered her. Her dress danced in the wind, its red color looking like dried blood in the darkness. 

“You were waiting...for me.”

She finally turned around to look at the guest. Her eyes, though naturally sharp, flickered with familiarity as she took in the form of the boy in front of her. 

“I know you’re about to do something silly. I’m only here to tell you to stop whatever idea you’re having right now.”

The figure didn’t move in front of her, but the way he stared at her made the distance between them almost crackle with electricity. The man’s jaw tightened, before it finally relaxed just a little bit. 

“None of NCT is planning to participate in his game.”

The woman merely raised a perfectly shaped brow, knowing that there’s more to what he is saying.

“But I—”

“Jaehyun. Don’t be stupid.” 

“Being the Don means I can do anything I want, right? So you and I can—”

“There is no you and I,” her voice, though it sounded clipped and cold in the meeting hall earlier, had a tinge of emotion this time. Is it desperation? Frustration? Helplessness?

Jaehyun took a few steps towards the smaller figure in front of him, his hands shoved deep into his pockets to keep him from reaching out to her. 

“You will be free. From him. From all of this.” 

“If you win.” 

“And I will.”

“Not after you’ve betrayed your brothers. You know what things this kind of game brings. Don’t do something you’ll regret later.”

He locked his jaw again, his expression intense even under the shadows that wrapped the two of them. Jaehyun finally pulled one hand from his pocket and moved it to touch her arm. The woman took a step back, evading his touch carefully.

“I don’t need to betray anyone. We all agreed on it. Everything will carry out as usual,” he said in a tone that sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than anyone else. As she looked up at him, she saw the same desperation in his eyes—the same eyes that used to be so innocent before they were hardened by his life in the mafia. 

“And you believe them? Look at where you are now, in front of me, telling me you’ll be doing this. You think you are the only one who has a reason to go after the position among all of you?”

“I…” he trailed off, a frown settling on his forehead. “I trust them.”

“With the way you are acting, I don’t think you are worthy of their trust at all.”

Something finally snapped inside of him and he finally closed the distance between them in quick strides. He didn’t touch her, but they were close enough to each other that the cold fogs of their breath mingled in the darkness.

“This is the only chance I have—you have—to finally leave.” 

For a moment she simply looked at him, gaze unfaltering. She wanted nothing more than to reach out to his face and cradle it, tell him everything is going to be fine, but even as a flicker of emotion slipped on her gaze, she quickly let her cold mask replace it as fast as it came. 

“I don’t need you to save me. Don’t do this.” 

Before he could say, or do anything else, she finally took a step back again before turning on her heels to walk away. Jaehyun followed her with his gaze until the darkness swallowed her retreating form. 

“Yo, you okay?”

I looked up from squinting at my computer and turned towards the boy grinning in front of me. I probably looked funny, my face all scrunched up from staring at my screen, because he broke into a laugh before dropping himself into the seat next to me.

“Ya… I know Taeyong said you’ll be our first line of defense, but you haven’t peeled your butt from your seat since last night. Relax. I don’t think Cypher is going to do anything—at least not for now.”

My squint turned into a frown and I opened my mouth to shoot back a reply. Before I could say anything though, a painful throb on my left temple made me stop. I barely slept a wink last night. I leaned back on my chair with a defeated sigh. 

“You don’t know that, Yuta. Those guys… they’re nasty. If they got the same message that we all got last night, I’m 99 percent sure they’re thinking of something to sabotage us now.” 

“Mm… were you able to hack into their system though?”

“Yeah. Their firewall sucks as usual. Nothing seems out of place for now…” I trailed off as my gaze moved across the room. From upstairs, I saw Taeyong slip out of his room in his sweats, hair messy from sleep. He ducked into the fridge on the second floor, rummaging for something there. 

After the announcement from the Don, all the members decided to stay in the headquarters temporarily instead of going to their separate dorms to ‘watch each other’s backs.’ It was a good move in my opinion, but another side of me is also a little bit nervous of having everyone around all the time. Not that I don’t like having the guys as company… but I have my personal reasons to be anxious about the recent change in living arrangements. 

From upstairs, Taeyong finally managed to fish out one of the tetra boxes of banana milk from the back of the fridge. I didn’t realize I was still staring at him until his eyes finally met mine and he gave me a sleepy smile. 

I quickly turned my eyes back to Yuta only to find him giving me a Cheshire grin. 

“What?”

“I asked you if you also tried checking temporary databases Cypher might be using but you were too busy eating up breakfast with your eyes,” he snickered before throwing up his hands as if in surrender. “I get it, I get it. All of us are handsome but you only have eyes for—” 

I quickly gave him a punch on his left shoulder as I felt blood rush to my cheeks. “I—wasn’t staring!”

“Sure, you were just drooling—”

“Hey, anyone up for some drinks tonight?” 

Our childish banter temporarily stopped as Yuta and I looked up to see a very sweaty Johnny stride through the door. He was slightly panting as he approached us, the slight flush of his cheeks a sign that he just finished his morning run. 

“Why? You going to Anarchy?” Yuta asked in curiosity as he dug his hands in the front pocket of his sweater. 

“Yeah, I have to make sure the dealers are selling the new goods well. I could go alone as usual but our Mom there,” he moved his lips to point towards a still sleepy-looking Taeyong upstairs, “said it is best to go in groups for now. You know, just to be sure.” 

Yuta shrugged. “I can go with you. I’ll also ask the other guys too. I sure need a bottle or two.” 

Johnny turned to look at me. For the first time since last evening, I felt extremely conscious of how I look. I was wearing an oversized hoodie, my hair up in a sorry excuse of a bun. My glasses didn’t do me any favors, barely concealing the dark circles under my eyes.

“You want to come with us?” he asked, smiling at me. 

“Uh… I don’t think that’s a good idea. I have to—”

“She has to watch over the rats, is what she’ll say,” Yuta interjected from his seat. He turned to look at me then with a frown. “Seriously, if you’re going to act like this, you’ll never see sunlight in the next two months.”

I opened my mouth to speak but Johnny was too quick to answer for me. 

“Great. You’ll come with us then.”

“But—”

“You can work in the club. I’ll have Jungwoo bring those mini computers you both love tinkering with. You can use them to do your magic codes and spying voodoo, right?” 

I stared at him, at a loss for words. 

“Good talk. We leave at 9PM,” he flashed me another grin and turned to walk away. I was about to give another rebuttal when my eyes landed on the way his shirt stuck to the muscles of his back. I closed my mouth and sank back to my seat. 

Beside me, Yuta was grinning from ear to ear again. 

“Don’t you just love it that we’re all staying here now?”

I turned and gave him another punch on the shoulder. 

Two hundred miles away from Seoul, a man sat back on his seat as the screen in front of him turned black. The lone light of the overhead lamp in the room made eerie shadows dance across his face as he mulled over the closing words of the Don.

“You are free to do anything you like.”

His impassive face slowly broke into a smile so sinister it almost made his angelic features unrecognizable. He has no fucking idea why the idiotic man decided to start this little game of his, but he likes it nonetheless. A chance to take over the whole mafia sounded so enticing to him that it almost made him laugh, but there’s another reason that ultimately made his blood boil in excitement.

NCT. 

“Jihoon.” 

He only slightly moved his head to look at the female who cracked the door open to his room. She had the same eyes as him, though hers didn’t look tainted with madness. In fact, it look slightly worried right now as they took in his expression. 

“You called for me?” 

“Ah, yes,” he finally turned his swivel chair towards her so he could give her his full attention. He intertwined his long slender fingers on his lap and gave her a sweet smile. 

“I need you to make preparations. We’ll be going on a little field trip.”

Her questioning gaze almost made him snicker.

“Where are we going? We have a deal to close tomorrow and we can’t—”

“Oh dear, I can’t care less about that now. It can wait.” 

The girl pursed her lips. “Fine. Where are we headed to so I can make arrangements?”

The boy leaned back on his seat, head pressed against the headrest. He grinned at her, the emotion playing in his eyes making her blood run cold. 

“Seoul. We’re going to visit some friends.” 

---

A/N: Hi everyone! Decided to post this today even though it is super short. So I’ve decided to introduce Jihoon... and I would love it if I can have a face claim that I can use for him as a reference. To those who have been following the story, I’d love to know your suggestions! This will make it easier for me to develop him because then I’ll have an idea of how he looks like. <3

Chapter 6: Rapture

[barbarasbae]

Even in Hawkins- First of Many

Part 16  master list

Billy Hargrove x Fem! Reader x Steve Harrington

Word Count: 1.5k 

Warnings: smut, family units/children are had, 18+, Billy is a pile of mush for his family 

heres a corny ending to something i’ve been working on for a year and a half. might post one of the better versions of it later but heres an ending for now

You excited?” Y/n teased Billy, sliding hands under his zip up. “I guess.”

“What’s wrong?” He raised an eyebrow, eyes flitting over her body. “I’m in a hoodie and sweatpants and you’re in that.” That being jeans with one of his button up shirts.

“You get to wear whatever you want on dates when you save the world.” She tugged gently on a curl. He huffed, pulling his omega into a hug. His omega had a nice sound to it. “Smell so good.” Y/n trilled, squeezing him gently. The doorbell rang, startling them both. She scrunched his hair on his scalp, him smacking her hands away.  “You’re trying to make me look worse.”

“I don’t think it’s possible for you to even look bad, Bill.” He rolled his eyes. He still wasn’t used to the gnarled scars after having them for almost two months. “Don’t roll your eyes at me mister.” 

“I’ll roll them if I want. They feel like the only part of me that can move right now.” He retorted, Y/n sticking her tongue out at him and opening the front door. “Hey Steve.”

“Hi...I brought you these.” He held out flowers to Y/n with a blush. “Thank you.” 

“And I brought you this.” He gave Billy a box, the blond taking it with shaking hands. “Do you need your medicine?” Y/n asked quietly when she noticed. He shook his head, opening the box to a sand dollar earring. It made him chuckle. “Thanks, pretty boy.” 

Billy shut the door behind Steve, Y/n in the kitchen making popcorn. “Can I kiss you?” Steve asked Billy, stepping into his space. “W-uh, sure.” Billy was red faced, Steve placing his hands on Billy’s wrist and hip, giving him a gentle kiss. Billy followed him as he pulled back, Steve laughing under his breath. “There can be more of that later if you want.” Billy nodded, getting a barked out laugh from the tall omega. “I have a couple different movies.” Y/n announced, bowl of popcorn in her arms. They made their way to the living room, Billy stopping her before they made it to the couch. He cupped her face in his hands, giving her a long wet kiss. It made her smile. “What was that for?” He shook his head, kissing her forehead. “Ooh, let’s watch this one.” Steve held up The Terminator.  

Everything was going well, an omega on each side of Billy. Y/n tucked her nose in Billy’s neck, her hand on his stomach. Steve was holding his free hand. Billy pulled his hand back and slid an arm around Steve’s shoulder, the older boy smiling at the pink faced blond. “Can you take some of the blankets off? It’s getting hot.” He asked Y/n, kissing her temple. “Why are you being so sweet?” She asked quietly, hugging him again, hand sliding a little farther down to his thigh. He shrugged before suddenly stiffening, Steve’s hand on his other thigh. “I forgot how horny The Terminator makes you.” He teased Y/n, her glaring at him. The boys laughed, but fell back into silence fairly quickly. Steve palmed over Billy’s sweatpants-covered dick, the blond blushing. “Is this okay? I can stop. Just tell me if-”

“This is fine.” Billy grit out. “Are you okay? Y/n asked, sitting up. He nodded. Steve did it one more time, smirking. “Gonna cum already, alpha?” Billy let out a soft whimper, bringing a smile to their faces. Y/n sat on her knees and faced Billy, purring in his ear, rubbing a hand up and down his thigh. “I’m- I’m gonna cum if you don’t stop.” Steve got up and pulled the blanket off of Billy, gently pushing the alpha’s thighs open. “Shit, Billy.” Y/n moaned, pre-cum staining his sweatpants where his dick was straining against them. “I wanna ride you.” She cooed, kissing his ear. Steve got between Billy’s legs, nosing at the bulging erection. Billy grunted softly, gripping Y/n’s thigh. “Such a big dick, alpha.” Steve purred,  dragging his tongue over the blond’s cloth covered erection. Billy whined, Y/n making the start of a hickey appear on his neck. Steve sucked the tip into his mouth, Billy jerking his hips and gasping. Both omegas watched cum soak his boxers and sweats, purring. “That feels good, huh?” Y/n asked, rubbing Billy’s shoulder. “Shit.” He croaked, Steve getting up with a pout. “What’s wrong?”

“I wanted to suck him off.” Billy was panting a little harder. “You okay, babe? Steve, can you get him some water?”

“I’m not a baby.” Billy protested, nose to nose with his girlfriend. “I know. Just don’t wanna over do it. Was scary to not have you around.” She told him, nuzzling into him. Steve handed Billy a cup, the omega sitting next to him, both omegas watching him drink. “Stop acting like I’m gonna drown in a cup of water.” 

“Sorry.” 

Billy changed and came back to Y/n and Steve scenting each other, her practically in his lap. “Keep watching?” He asked, grabbing the remote. “Sure.”

They finished the movie, Steve saying he had to work tomorrow. “Don’t usually put out on the first date but it was fun.” He was blushing. Y/n nodded, Billy smiling. He had a good feeling about this. 

---

Billy woke up slowly. It was so nice and warm but his alarm was blaring on the nightstand. “Fuck…” He groaned, arm over his eyes. “Fuck!” A high pitched little voice parroted, giggling. Billy shot up, seeing his 4 year old daughter sitting at the end of the bed. “No,no no we don’t say that, Daisy.”

“Fuck.” She declared, little brows furrowed in determination. “Daisy, it’s not a nice word.” 

“But you said it.” She pouted, Billy getting up and holding her on his hip. “I did. Let’s just not tell mommy, okay?” She nodded, hugging him. “Where’s Steve?” Billy called to Y/n as he entered the kitchen. She was making food for their 7 and 5 year old sons. “He’s getting dressed.” 

Billy set Daisy in her chair and kissed the back of Y/n’s shoulder. “Good morning.”

“Good morning, stinky breath.” She teased, Billy blowing a raspberry on her neck that got her to squeal. Steve came into the kitchen in blue scrubs, Y/n handing him his lunchbox. “Be safe. Love you.” She kissed Steve’s cheek, Billy rubbing his nose against the tall omega’s.  “I’m gonna be late. Love you too. Bye babies.” Y/n smiled as the brunet planted wet kisses on each kid, Daisy giving him one back. Billy hugged Y/n, her leaning into him. “You okay this morning?”

“Yeah. Just enjoying my pack. I love you.”

“I love you too. You’re on bath duty.”

“Nooo!” Came a chorus of protests. Y/n laughed. “Good luck.”

“Who needs luck when you have talent?”

Y/n rolled her eyes. “Sure, big man.”

Billy stuck his tongue out at her and snatched up Axle, the youngest boy. She did it back. “What?” She asked him, the blond looking over her. “Nothing. Just enjoying the view.” 

“Such a dork, Billy.” 

“Isn’t that how I charmed you?”

“No. That was a special feature I had to unlock. Go bathe your filthy child.” She teased, Axle protesting that he wasn’t filthy. Steve came back through the door. “You okay?”

“Roads closed because of snow. Couldn’t get out of the neighborhood.”

“Lucky us.” She kissed his pink nose, helping him take off the layers. “Stop ‘enjoying the view’ and give him a bath.” She told Billy. He put his son down and told him to meet him in the bathroom. “Did I ever tell you what I wanted the first time I saw you guys?” They shook their heads, Y/n hugging Steve. “Wanted you both. Wanted a pack. Can’t believe I pulled it off.” 

“DAD!” Billy cringed and left them, the omegas giggling as their kids followed Billy into the bathroom. “How’d we ever go for that?”

“Hm?” Steve was playing with the hem of her shirt. “Sorry, I was thinking about all the stuff we like to do on my days off.” His hand slid around to her ass, squeezing. 

“Problem, all the kids will have the day off too.” 

“Damn, it’s like we enjoy making them or something” He joked, Y/n smiling up at him. “I think you both lucked out that The Terminator makes me horny.” 

“God that’s so lame!

“It’s true though. I’ve always been mad I didn’t get to see Bill dressed up like him in ‘84” Steve groaned. “I feel like we’d be in a much different situation now,” 

“Probably.” They giggled. 

Billy heard his mates laughing in the kitchen, the kids making a mess of water. Thank god 17 year old Billy was a huge perv. Billy was never gonna get used to how lucky he’s got it. 

                                                   end. 

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

link to masterlist

@harrysstyleseyes  @fanficandartgal    @theweirdirishone 

@aprincess-orjustme   @lettersshapes    @mazarinqueen

@delightfullyspeedyearthquake   @darlingvagary

@maggiemitchellclark  @t0nyt0nych0pp3r

@billyhargrovescigarette   @imafatassmess @notavintagecliche 

@baebeepeach  @bxxbxy     @hypothetical-thot

@not-so-quality-imagines    @cherryicy123 

@buttercupcumbersnatcher   @redvelevetdog  @teller258316 

@bbyheathersunshine  @the-lady-of-stars    @starksweasley 

@just-a-blonde-hufflepuff  @rozi3cheeks  @h-oneyholland

@southsideslutbag  @flqyed  @thebookamongmen  @shadow-hunters-lover  

@eveofmadness  @halefirewarrior   @fishbowlmysterioo 

@pinkdiamonddoingthings  @im-emo-motherfuckers  

@iluvmesomemarvelndc @marvelismylifffe​   @hyp-oh-critical​

 @mystyque234​  @alli-cat-winer   

@lovpandasloves @gogetawaydreamer2

@averysinclaire​ @oogachuggaoogaoogachugga @hyp-oh-critical​

@mewkitty92​

[lettersformiah]

9:12am, 20 june

hi bubba! in english atm. ive had a morning and a half. late to school hehe. had to sign in at the office bc i saw maia with the little attendance slip that relievers have. signed in and rocked up. the reliever is nice, he is chill. nice enough yk? youre at your first placement rn! so shit you had to wake up so early for it. n you have to do it the next two days as well. like eek. but youre amazing so i trust youll be fine. or even better than fine. i believe in you. just shit that i cant text you hehe. but its okay cause i have the letters and music and fifty internals to focus on. did i tell you french was also spoken? im terrible at french pronunciation. what can you do i guess. my kiwi mouth cant get around the fact that french is just gurgling. hopefully ill be fine.

wearing your hoodie at school ^-^ its nice and big and warm. i love it so much. im wearing so many layers bc its so cold. or not even that cold. so windy. and wind makes everything cold. got my stockings on, your hoodie, the big fleece jacket, and socks >:) which i dont think you are meant to wear with stockings, but fuck it, im cold and my shoes are thin. the wind is fucking up my hair too. so dog of mother nature fr.

what else? oh! friday is matariki. or maybe its not? i dont know. friday is the public holiday for matariki, so thats good enough for me. thursday is a half day bc they are doing the celebration at school from 1-5. (however it means p3 on thursday is like a full school assembly) i think im meant to go to the celebration? i think i will from like 3-5 maybe. if you dont miss me too much. but youd probably be asleep knowing you. will see i guess heh. i just know my friends were interested in going. i still have dance though, so maybe i go and then leave at like 4:40? thats when the bus is and itll take me straight to dance. just gotta be sneakily wearing my dance clothes or take a bag. we will see! sounds like a good plan though, if i do say so myself.

i really can keep writing forever hehe! apparently always having something to say translates well into letters too! id be so good with a diary. but i think one entry would be like 40 pages long. so maybe its for the best this is online. saves me some hand cramps.

i love you! and im excited for drama! having our war piece kinda finished is good. but getting the guys to work its kinda very hard when they arent feeling it. but we definitely need to perform soon. the original plan was to have it be done at the end of term 1. its almost been like 3 months since that? thats some shit timing. but tbf im glad we have the time to work on it, i want it to look good. but i dont mind not getting an excellence, but i know leo wants it. which is fair. hoping all goes well and the boys focus up. ill let you know.

it was nice waking up to you this morning :*] wish it could be like that irl and every day yk? i dont think i was very good at conversation, i barely remember it but i remember definitely slurring my words a teeny bit. sleepy maddi things.

ive been writing this letter for like thirty minutes. crazy how the time flies when i just talk. tbf whenever i talk just about my day it takes about 3 hours to get through! and i didnt even get to tell you about yesterday and the full on day i had! and havent even mentioned watching the end of the summer i turned pretty with rem and hos and jazz or playing dnd! gosh theres so much to talk about i could go on forever. im happy you love that about me. im very lucky. youre a great listener which is perfect because im a great talker. love you bubba.

i should go i think. got other posts to make and some english to pretend i did. i love you, hope the placement is going okay and you havent fallen asleep injecting someone yet.

talk soon,

-mads<3

[duhragonball]

Battle Tendency Liveblog: JJBA Ch.109-113

Hard to believe we’re at the end of this crazy ride.  

Last time, Joseph had defeated Kars, only for Stroheim to order his men to finish Kars off with UV rays.  Stroheim just wanted Kars to hurry up and die faster, and maybe he also wanted credit for the kill, but instead he played right into Kars hands.    After Joseph kicked his ass, Kars put on a Stone Mask he had stowed away somewhere, and he installed the Red Stone of Aja into the Mask.  

I should probably go over that a bit, since it hasn’t been mentioned for a while.   Kars has been perfecting the Stone Mask technology for thousands of years.   It turns humans into vampires, but for his species it unlocks even greater powers.   But Kars hit a wall in his research.   He wanted to design a mask that would make him the ultimate life form, but he lacked the means to power such a mask.   He discovered an answer in the Aja Stone, a mineral that focuses light, but he needed a bigger, more flawless sample of it, and that’s the Stone he’s using right now, the one he captured from Lisa Lisa.  

So instead of killing Kars, Stroheim accidentally made his lifelong ambition come true.   One nice touch I just noticed is that the Mask itself falls apart as soon as it’s finished its task.    I suppose, in theory, someone else could have tried it on and get the same power boost as Kars?  Would it even work on a normal human?  Well, we’ll never find out.   

There’s a couple of ways to interpret this.   One is that Kars’ “Super” Mask was highly experimental, and it must have been untested, since he’d never had Lisa’s stone until now.   So it’s possible that the thing burned itself out after a single use.   The other interpretation is that Kars designed this Mask to self-destruct after the first use, because it was never intended for anyone else but himself.    The whole point of this was to become the Ultimate Life Form, the very pinnacle of all living creatures on Earth.   I think it was implied that Wammu and Esidisi were expecting to share in this power when the time came, but why would Kars have ever allowed for this?   What’s the point of being the greatest and best in the world if you have to share that top spot with two other guys? 

Stroheim realllly wants to believe this is all a big fluke, and that he didn’t just make the bad guy stronger.   The Ripple wound on Kars’ arm is still there, so Stroheim figures he’ll die anyway.    Except Kars doesn’t seem too bothered by his injury.   And then...

Yeah, so Kars not only repairs his injured arm, he reshapes his hand into a squirrel.   Joseph speaks for us all: What the fuck?

For a hot minute, everyone thinks the squirrel he made is kind of cute, until Kars sends it to find another squirrel and kill it.  Then the Kars-squirrel tears a hole through Stroheim and carves a trench in a Nazi soldier from chest to eyeball.   Then it rejoins Kars’ wrist, and turns into a flower, and then a butterfly.   Some Part 5 and 6 pre-references for ya.  

Then the sun comes up.    Wait, the Joseph/Wammu fight happened around midnight, right?    How many hours have these folks been out here?    And it’s February, too, so this had to have been a long night.  Anyway, the sun comes up, so we’re saved, right?   Wrong.  Sunlight doesn’t hurt Kars anymore, thanks to the power he got from his special mask.   So now what are they supposed to do? 

Well, Joseph’s going to use his last resort: running away.    Also, he grabs the Aja Stone, for no apparent reason.    Kars grows a pair of wings to chase him.    He no longer cares about the Hamon users, because they’re no longer a threat to him.   But he wants to kill Joseph personally, both to celebrate his new powers and to avenge the deaths of Wammu and Kars.  

Smokey joins Joseph, which doesn’t make much sense to Joseph, but Smokey wants to tell Joseph about Lisa Lisa being his mother.   Except Joseph’s a little too distracted by the eldritch horror that’s trying to murder him. Read the room, Smokey.

Here’s a helpful diagram of Kars to explain what his deal is now.   Basically, he’s immortal and can regenerate and reshape his whole body, but he had that before, just by being a Pillar Man.   The big upgrade is that he’s no longer weak to sunlight (and by extension, the Ripple), and he can now replicate the traits of any life form on Earth.    He’s faster than cheetahs and has better hearing than bats and so on.   He can go for a full year without eating, and he no longer needs to sleep.    Sex is meaningless to him, because procreation is only important for lower life forms to maintain their species.   Kars has no need for children or bretheren.    “There is but only one summit.”  

Maybe Wammu and Esidisi had understood that truth all along, and they never seriously expected Kars to share this power with them.   They practically worshipped Kars as it was, so maybe they were only doing this for the greater glory of their leader.   

So what does Kars plan to do with all of this power he now has?   The Aja Stone was his only goal before, and that’s done.    He has no enemies to fear, and as Speedwagon observes, there’s no way left to kill him.    This page states that his only purpose now is to create a world to match his own desire, but what is that?   What’s Kars’ vision for the Earth now that he’s reached this point?   

We never really find out, and I suppose that’s why it’s convenient that he decided to start out by killing Joseph.    For all we know, he would have just chilled out and left humanity alone after that, but this way there’s still an immediate threat to deal with.  

Miraculously, Joseph manages to stay ahead of Kars long enough to find the airplane that brought Stroheim here.   You’d think Kars could have caught up to him with all these fancy new powers, but Kars was never in much of a hurry.    He took his time to search for the Aja Stone, and he made it a point to trap Jojo and Lisa rather than risk fighting them fairly.  So even now, when he has such an overwhelming advantage, he seems to be playing things the same way.   He has no weaknesses, so he may as well take his time and stalk Joseph, if only to watch him squirm.

Joseph tries using the plane’s weapons to even the odds, but Kars grows armadillo hide on his wings to protect himself, and he fires the armor at Joseph like shrapnel.   So machinery doesn’t seem to make much of a difference.   

So Joseph just flies south, using the plane’s engines to give himself a comfortable lead.   He’ll run out of fuel in a couple of hours, but Speedwagon calls him on the radio and tells him that they’ll figure out a plan.   Except that Joseph already has his own plan.  There’s a volcanic island off the coast of Italy.  I assume this is Stromboli Island, since Italy has only three active volcanoes, and Mt. Stromboli is the only one on an island.   Anyway, Joseph plans to lure Kars into the volcano, and destroy him with molten lava.    I mean, Kars is still flammable, right?

Speedwagon hates this idea, because he doesn’t see any way for Joseph to pull this off without getting killed in the process, and that sounds way too much like what happened to Joseph’s father and grandfather.  Oh, and his great-grandfather.   I didn’t notice George I up there until just now.   Speedwagon tries to tell Joseph about Lisa being his mom, but Joseph can’t hear him because of all the piranha noises in the plane.    Wait... what?

Yeah, all the feathers that Kars turned into armor and launched into the fuselage?   Well, he’s still controlling those things, and now Kars has turned them into piranhas.   Well, I guess not literal fish, since they’d never survive up here.  The point is that Kars can control every cell in his body and mimic any animal traits he wants, so if he wants to make small bitey creatures to wreck Joseph’s plane, he might as well make them look like piranhas.    ALso he makes an octopus that tears up one of the engines.  

So Joseph bails out, but he’s a sitting duck in that parachute.    Kars calls him a butterfly caught in a web, which is the second time we’ve seen that analogy in Part 2.   Araki just out here telling everyone what Jolyne would be wearing in twelve years. 

But the parachute contains a dummy.    Why did Joseph waste time drawing a face on it?   Because he knew he had to fool Kars’ razor-sharp senses, of course.    Kars probably saw the dummy, and got suspicious, but then he noticed the eyes and mouth, and though “Oh, okay, I guess that’s a real person then.”  

Anyway, this suckers Kars in so that Joseph can crash into him with his plane and they can both go into the volcano together.

But Kars thinks he can tear up the plane before it lands.   Except a robot hand grabs him from behind, and he finds Stroheim stowed away.   Wait, so Stroheim outran Joseph AND Kars and hid in this plane before Joseph took off?   

Anyway, Stroheim manages to get Joseph out of the plane to relative safety, but he crushes his whole lower body in the process.  But it seems to be worth it, because Kars landed smack-dab in the volcano!  Awesome!   Fuck you, Kars, you screwed over Lisa Lisa, and that’s what you get!   He tries to protect himself, but he can’t grow a defense against 1000 degree heat...

... is what I would say, except no, Kars totally does that.   Just when Joseph thinks Kars has succumed to the lava, Kars pops out and slices off Joseph’s left arm with his goofy blade.  

How the fuck did Kars survive?   Well, he couldn’t grow a lava-proof shell, but he could create a porous layer beneath the shell, and use the air inside to insulate the rest of his body from the heat.   That wouldn’t protect him indefinitely, but it was enough to get the drop on Joseph.  

So that’s it then, right?  Not even molten lava can kill Kars, unless you could shove him down in there and keep him still for like ten minutes, and who’s going to pull that off?    Stroheim begins to lose all hope...

Then we get a flashback to Kars’ origin.   Long, long ago, there was a race of subterranean humanoid with long lifespans and an aversion to sunlight.   Prehistoric humans thought of them as gods or demons because of their reclusiveness and power.   Also, they would eat humans and animals, so that probably made them dangerous, too.   

But I don’t think they were nearly as powerful as the Pillar Men we’ve seen in this story.   I say this because the flashback establishes that Kars was the one who discovered the latent power in their brains, and he was the one who invented the Stone Mask technology to harness that latent power.   So it stands to reason that much of what he and the others could do was the result of Stone Mask enhancements.   The problem is that those enhancements increased the amount of blood they needed to consume, and the others in the Clan feared that Kars’ experiments would destroy their whole ecosystem.   So when they tried to stop Kars, he killed them all.   The only survivors were himself, Esidisi, and two young children who grew up to become Wammu and Santana.  

So that story tells you something about what Kars might do with this newfound “ultimate” power.   He didn’t achieve this for the good of his own people, because they’re all dead now, and he wiped most of them out personally.   If he would do that to his own kind, the rest of the Earth would be expendable to him.

Back to the present, Joseph’s not giving up yet.   He tries to use the Ripple one more time, but it doesn’t work.   Worse, Kars counters with his own Ripple.    Because Kars can do that now, you see.    He’s got the powers of all life on Earth, and that includes Ripple users, I suppose.   Worse, Kars’ Hamon power is hundreds of times greater, so he ends up getting badly burned on his right knee.  

So now Joseph’s completely out of tricks, and he starts to accept the inevitable.   Kars decides that the best way to kill Joseph would be to destroy him with his own finisher, Ripple Overdrive.  So he charges up the most powerful Hamon attack he can muster, and just as he’s about to strike...

Joseph impulsively grabs the Red Stone of Aja and uses it to block, kind of like how he stymied Kars back on that cliff in Switerland.   Only this time, Kars doesn’t hold back, and the Hamon attack is amplified.    It bursts through Joseph’s right hand and into the volcano below. 

The narration says that not even Joseph really understood any of this.   He just sort of acted on instinct.   That bothered me once, but now I see that it wasn’t entirely unconscious impulse.   Back in Venice, when Lisa first told Joseph about the Aja Stone, Joseph suggested destroying it to deny Kars his prize. But Lisa said there was a legend that foretold that Kars could never be defeated without the Aja Stone.   And that would at least explain why Joseph picked the thing up back in Switzerland before he fled to Mt. Stromboli.    Maybe it was unconscious action that made him pick up the stone in this fateful moment, but I think it was a more conscious thought that made him take the stone with him in the first place.   On some level, he remembered that legend.  

Okay, so there’s a mega-ultra-Super-Saiyan-5-Ripple that just went into a live volcano.    What good does that do?   Well, it makes the volcano erupt, and it launches Joseph and Kars into the air.    So what?   Kars can fly.    Yeah, he could, but...

You know, Joseph’s lost hand really left an impression on me when I first watched the anime of Part 2, but now that I’ve read the manga, I’ve noticed tons of severed and wounded forearms all through this story, almost as if Araki had been building up to this moment.    I’d make a Part 4 joke, but nah, that’s too easy.   But it wasn’t even that long ago that Wammu lost both of his hands, and then he launched them as Joseph to distract him.    Kars lost his hand before he grew it back and turned it into a squirrel.    Hell, Stroheim launched his robot hand at Kars to distract him for the volcano crash.   And now Joseph’s hand has somehow launched itself into Kars’ throat to distract him again!

I’m assuming that Hamon energy has a lot to do with this.   You’d think Joseph’s hand wouldn’t have survived getting fired up this high, and it shouldn’t be powerful enough or alive enough to bother Kars this much, but it does.   So I’m chalking it up to all that Ripple energy.  It briefly reanimated Joseph’s hand and made it follow Kars up to this altitude, kind of like how Jonathan controlled Wang Chung’s decapitated body at the end of Part 1.

So Joseph taunts Kars about this, and implies that he planned this somehow.    And when Kars pauses to ask if he did plan this, more rocks and stuff from the volcano hit him and send him even higher up into the air.

And Joseph claims that he did plan this entire thing!  That’s bullshit, but he hopes Kars will believe it, if only to make him more frustrated.    Maybe Joseph didn’t plan all this out, but he seems to have deduced what’s happening here.  

Kars has been launched so high into the air, and at such an incredible speed, that he’s achieved escape velocity.    Does Kars even realize what that means?   I mean, he’s super-intelligent, especially now, and he’s been alive for thousands of years, but what could he really know about outer space?    Has he ever even considered it before?  It seems like all of his ambitions involve the Earth, and only the Earth, and everything living upon it.  

As for Joseph, the chunk of rock he’s on does not fly into space.   Instead, it starts to fall back down, and Joseph assumes that he’s probably not going to survive the impact.    Eight hours later, Stroheim makes it back and informs Speedwagon that Joseph must have died in the eruption.   

But Kars isn’t worried at first, because he thinks he has this whole “vacuum of space” thing figured out.  He just takes a page from Wammu’s playbook and makes air jets on his back to expel compressed gas from his body, like the maneuvering thrusts on a spacecraft.  Except that’s not nearly enough to counteract the force of the volcano that sent him up here.  

Yeah, Kars has no idea how space works.  Instinctively, he probably counted on friction to slow him down, except there is no friction in space.   He probably also expected his air jets to push him a little bit at a time, and maybe he could pull in more air as needed, except there is no more air.   Even the air from his body is denied to him, because it just dissipates into the vacuum of space.    Kars talks about the air freezing as it comes out, but I don’t think that’s right.   What’s happening to him is like when you use one of those compressed gas canisters to clean your keyboard.    Release a lot of the gas at once, and the can starts to get cold.   That’s because the liquefied gas left inside the can now has more room, and it begins to boil as it expands.    This draws in heat from the surroundings, which makes the can feel cold to the touch.    That’s what’s happening to Kars here.   All he’s doing it losing all his body heat.   Maybe some of the air really is freezing around him, but I don’t know.   It depends on whether the sunlight is hitting him, I think.

Anyway, the last thing Kars says is “I can’t go back!!!” And that’s what makes this so perfect.   In the anime, we see the Earth recede into the distance as he continues to tumble further and further away. By surviving the lava, Kars had “mastered” the Earth, but now he’s been separated from the Earth.   He’s got all this incredible power, but without the Earth, he’s got no one to use it on.

And then we come to the pièce de résistance of Battle Tendency: The epilogue page that establishes, in no uncertain terms, that Kars never returned to the Earth.   There’s no miracle escape this time, no clever trick or loophole.   He simply doesn’t have the necessary acceleration to push himself back the way he came. 

Did he die?   Nope, because he made himself immortal, remember?   Not even sunlight or starvation can destroy him now.   But now death is the only thing he craves, because he’s completely alone and has nothing to do.   I can’t imagine he’s very comfortable like this either, because it’s incredibly cold in outer space, and Kars must be able to sense that cold, even if it doesn’t actually hurt him.  

And this is such a fitting punishment for a villain like Kars.  Just as Stroheim wanted to become superior and lost his humanity in the process, Kars ruthlessly sacrificed friend and foe alike to achieve this Ultimate form, and what good does it do him?    It’s become his prison, his hell.    At long last, he’s become the supreme being, a world unto himself, but with no one around to lord it over, there’s really no point to any of it.  

I just really love this ending.   I’m not sure how else I can express it.    This is what should have happened to Akio Othori in Revolutionary Girl Utena.    But Araki was brace enough to do it to Kars.  

I suppose I could attempt some exercise in JoJo Part Comparison and connect Kars’ final fate to all the other JoJo villains.    But I dunno, this is getting pretty long in the tooth as it is.   I’ll just say that I’m suddenly reminded of Reimi’s final words to Kira in Part 4, when Kira asks where he’s being taken.   “Who knows?   But I’m sure it’s somewhere you won’t be able to rest in peace.”

So all that’s left is the matter of Joseph’s funeral-- Nah, just kidding, he’s not even dead.   What’s weird is that Smokey says he met Joseph “six months ago”, which seems a lot longer than the events of this story.    Anyway, Joseph returned to New York, only to find everyone at the cemetary.   He wonders who they’re mourning, and he’s shocked to discover it’s him.

So yeah, the rock Joseph was on acted as a “shield”, and he managed to survive the fall, and even ended up near Venice, where Suzie Q found him and tended to his injuries.  Stroheim even set him up with a robotic hand to replace the one Kars lopped off.   I guess Stroheim never sent word of any of this to the U.S., probably because of Nazi Germany gearing up for World War II.  

Anyway, Suzie took care of him for like two weeks, and they got married.   So in a way, Joseph did follow in the legacy of Jonathan.   Not in the “dying young” way, but the “Beat the bad guy and wake up in the care of a gorgeous blonde lady who eventually marries you” kind of way.   You love to see it.   But Suzie forgot to send a telegram to New York to let everyone know Joseph was okay, which is why everyone is so shocked and why Joseph is so shocked about them being shocked.

Then we get the epilogues for all the surviving characters.   I mentioned this when I liveblogged the Part 5 manga a few years ago, but the stark contrast between Battle Tendency and Vento Aureo is that Part 5 is very ambiguous about its ending.   We know who wins and who loses and who survives, but that isn’t really enough.   We don’t know what will happen to Giorno Giovanna after Part 5.   Does he live up to his lofty dream, or does he succumb to corruption like his wicked father?  I think that’s intentional, because Giorno is the “golden wind” in the story.    He’s an agent of change, but we don’t get to see the effects of his efforts, only the cause that he fights for.    But Part 2 operates in the exact opposite way.   We know exactly how and when Speedwagon dies.   I’m a little confused how Stroheim could have died at Stalingrad when Kars and a volcano couldn’t kill him, but maybe the Russians had Stand powers.    I think the only minor mystery is that we don’t know what happened to Lisa Lisa after 1948.    It’s likely that she survived into Part 3, and maybe beyond, but we never see her again.

It’s also kind of weird how upbeat this epilogue is about reporting on the deaths of so many characters.   Like, Stroheim died in one of the worst battles in human history, but he went out on his own terms, so it’s cool?  I guess?   Even the characters without deaths, like Smokey, it’s sort of implicit that he’ll die sooner or later.   But it’s a good thing because it’s final and proper.    It’s something Kars craves now, but can never experience.  A life worth living, made more precious by its limitations.  Kars tried to use cheat codes in nature, and he ended up clipping through the map and making the game unplayable.   But Smokey, he‘ll be mayor someday.

As for Joseph, we see him in an airport in 1987, bullying Japanese people because his daughter married a Japanese guy and moved there.    He’s headed to Japan right now to see her and his grandson, who probably doesn’t even recognize him, it’s been so long.   

On the other hand, he appreciates his Walkman, which is either Joseph giving the Japanese some credit, or maybe he’s just too dense to notice the irony.   

I hate that he’s listening to the Beatles, because the Beatles are overrated trash.  My favorite thing about the Part 2 anime is how they changed his music to “Bloody Stream” by Coda, which a) kicks ass and b) wasn’t a song by the shitty Beatles.  

And that’s Battle Tendency.   Kind of neat how it closes on Joseph’s flight departing to visit his daughter and grandson, in contrast to the final panel of Part 1, which showed Erina floating in a coffin alone in the ocean.   Joseph has bucked the curse and he’s graduated to Part 3, for better or worse.   

But I feel kind of weird leaving it here, because I do love the way the anime wrapped up, so I’ll close out with this:

Tsugi ni omae wa “Grazie!” to iu!

[earth-electric]

Killing Eve Timeline (Tentative): With the Help of the Weather & Wardrobe

This took me fucking weeks and a lot of fucking headaches, so buckle up and shut up bitches!

I'm not going to go through each episode of days and days in-between, that's going to take to long to type (I already spent ages figuring it out, and now I'm lazy). What I am going to do is go by estimated total amount of time, and the estimated months. Along with observed weather patterns and wardrobe choices during the duration of the shows seasons.

The show purposely made shit vague. With weather being unpredictable, and filming scheduling of course they would make it hard to determine the dates and months of the show, but I do believe they do have a specific timeline they are following.

Thankfully season 3 being the outlier that it is, we have a clear and cut season (shocker) to base our timeline.

To note before continuing, Europe weather is weird, especially in the UK since its an oceanic climate mostly, that shit is wild. I went to London in mid June, it was gloomy, rainy, and chilly. Also its sporadic, its gloomy and chilly all year round and has glimmers of good days shoved in-between, then you go to France and its weather is warm when it should be and its cray cray, any who...

Season 1:

Estimated Total Time: ~42 days, 6 weeks

Estimated Time Period: March 15-21, 2018 to April 26-May 2, 2018

Many are going to point out, "Well the show started in April, so its April." Nah bitch st down. S1 and S2 are sister timelines and there's a fucking reason so wait. The thing about the first season, it's a messy, weird ass timeline and a lot of it had a gray tint when they had scenes out side (except for the scene in episode 5 of Villaneve meeting on a woodsy path), and of course that was purposely done. The season starts in early spring, we know Villanelles birthday just passed and peeps in London should not be wearing light layers lol it should be cold, cold even in late April but it must have been one of those good glimmer days. Now late April, they go to Russia unclear where but for this time it makes sense for Russia to be very cold (mid 20's to low 50's) but a few weeks the weather changes to be similar to or even warmer than London. This is one reason why the show does not start in April it wouldn't be that cold in late May or early June in Russia.

Season 2:

Estimated Total Time: ~49 days, 7 weeks

Estimated Time Period: April 26-May 2, 2018 to June 14-20, 2018

S2 is also a messy ass of a timeline. Especially pertaining to the time in Rome, which takes place in June, for creators sake they are wearing jackets and layered clothing have y'all ever been to Rome in June its hot, sometimes warm with a cool breeze but yeah I wouldn't wear a long sleeve or jacket. But they were filming in Italy in December, so this was a filming issue and its hella cold in Italy in December, so its not a pass but I understand. So yes season 2 takes place in late spring time, as you can see as how beautiful Amsterdam was. The Italy sequences could not have been more later, they had to be mid June to pass as average temp was in the 70's to low 80's and can be in the high 50's/low 60's some days, so a cool weekend in mid June can be passed off. Again another reason the show didn't start in April, but 2 to 3 weeks before.

Major Time Lapse:

Estimated Total Time: ~1 year & ~1 to 3 months

*Will explain this on a later date, but in short Eve's injury was very severe.

Season 3:

Estimated Total Time: ~59 -63 days, 8.5 to 9 weeks

Estimated Total Time: July/August/September 26, 2019 to

September/October/November 24, 2019

Thank goodness for S3 or I will be so lost, it is the only season with a transition of seasons and you can very clearly see it in the wardrobe. We go from summer to autumn, and the symbolism of that is beautiful. Episode 1 to 4 they are wearing very little layers, the least amount we ever seen our peeps in London wear. By episode 6 we clearly see a shift in clothing, much more thick layers from then on. And yes its that simple, S3 did a lot of weird shit but that timeline is on point. I am not firmly sure on a specific set of months, it can be between; July to September, August to October, or September to November. You can choose based on when you want Eve's birthday to be; based on evidence that contradict my estimations it's most likely to be August 20th, based on my calculations alone September 20th, or an extra possibility October 20th.

Can this timeline give us foresight into Season 4?

Probably, we can get a sense of what time of year the next season will take place. We have never seen a winter in the Killing Eve dimension so for me that will be cool to see (Villaneve snuggles please?). And that would mean season 4 starting right where is left off. If not, another springtime season probably a few months after, but I have feelings of doubt about that maybe that's my bias talking.

There is also the prospect of the timeline getting longer and longer. For example, S1 was 6 weeks, S2 was 7 weeks, and S3 was around 9 weeks. Maybe next seasons timeline will be 10 to 12 weeks? Who knows possibilities are endless. S4 is the season full of new possibilities. Thanks for reading! Hope this helps in the future!

[peachyproserpina]

Oops Pt. 2

Jason Roberts (SVU) x Fem!Reader

Part one here!

Here it is! It's kinda jumpy but I hope yall enjoy it! Tagging my love @glassbxttless for all your help with this and the fact it's dedicated to you!

TW: Smut, Alcohol, Drugs, Food, lots of Crying, mentions of abuse, mentions of Death, pregnancy, babies, swearing

As always! If I have missed a tag let me know and I will tag it!

You hiss when the cold jelly gets smeared on your stomach, you’re fucking pregnant, test after test after fucking test and you’re pregnant. You booked an appointment with Planned Parenthood as soon as they would let you and made Jason come with. They confirmed with a blood test that yes indeed you we’re pregnant and about 5ish weeks along at that point. You both looked at each other and the nurse could see the panic between you too. She sent you home with a stack of pamphlets as thick as your arm and assured you that you have options, even if you needed to make them quick.

That was 3 weeks ago when your bras still fit you, this isn’t your first ultrasound but the jelly never gets any better no matter how much you prepare. Jason is here, he’s insisted on coming to every appointment. He was clingy before but ever since you found out he’s been even worse. Watching the cameras and your location more so then before and having you facetime him whenever you’re out of the apartment. Clingy.

-

You’re at 12 weeks now and your monkey is about as big as a lime and really fucking with everything they can. You’re showing now, now matter how many layers or flowy dresses you put on, and between the cravings and the aversions (Chocolate is a go but for some reason tacos make you gag) you’ve put on a few pounds. Jason loves it, after the shock wore off and you both decided to keep it, always wanting kids but never knowing when. It just. Felt right. He picked up on your moods and cravings just as well as he did before and the fact your chest is so big now you cant even wear a bra is a plus. You’ve lost count of the amount of times you’ve been woken up with Jason between your thighs as soon as he’s home from work, or when he gently fucks you awake, big hand covering your whole bump and cooing praise in your ear before filling you with cum and letting you get the sleep you need. You’re both adjusting and determined to ‘keep you safe babygirl’ Jason got a promotion with a healthy wage and he’s kept you cooped up at home where he can watch you and his monkey.

-

“I’m so sorry you have to grow up without a Daddy monkey.” You’re gently rubbing your bump as you walk down the street, en route to your old apartment. The one right across the hall from Jason used to live, where his mom still lives.

“He’s just so dumb for telling grandma I’m going to kill him before you’re born I’m sure of it.” You don’t notice the looks from the people milling on the stairway of the building, too bust fuming at the fact Jason managed to do the one thing you asked him not to do.

Tell anyone.

You wanted to keep it until you knew the gender, maybe post something on your socials, call your family about it. Invite Estelle over for a dinner and let her know then. But nope, Jason as much as a mommas boy he is, spilled the beans a day after you asked him not to. Causing you to make your way to the old building for a ‘baby-baby shower’ with his mom, with a strict “No boys allowed!’ leaving Jason a mess as you walked around New York, knowing he was never far, always watching you helped calm him down. You don’t even have to kock before Estelle is rushing you in the door, and you can’t tell if it’s the spread she has thoughtfully laid out or the hormones but you’re already crying.

There’s cute little cakes, caffeine free tea, candies, chocolate, pickles, and everything else you have possibly been craving spread all over her kitchen table, you hug her close and try to stop your tears.

“Let's get you sat down before you hurt yourself honey.” She sits you in one of her kitchen chairs and brings you a tissue, you thank her as she hands you a cup of tea and you both settle in for the afternoon celebration. She’s dipped into the brandy and brought out all of Jason’s old baby stuff she’ll be sending you home with, you’re flipping through and laughing when you stop on a picture of newborn Jason being held in a man's arms. You furrow your brow and she picks up on that. “He was an awful man you know. Beat me black and blue and Jason too.” Her words take you by surprise, Jason never talked about his dad, just that he was a deadbeat and glad he was dead.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. Jason never.” She cuts you off with a soft hand on your thigh before she gently rubs the top of your belly.

“He died young you know, I-” she takes a swig of brandy before she continues. “He beat Jason so bad he broke his arm. Can you believe that? Jason wasn’t much older then 7, still a baby and that bastard broke his arm.” You’re speechless as you flick your eyes between Estelle and the photo of Jason’s father. “He was sleeping around too. Thought I didn’t know, it was the 90’s of course I fucking knew when his pager was going off at all hours. He didn’t even have a pager for work.” You sniffle and nod your head, you really had no idea, Jason never talked about his father and you let it be.

“He shoulda known better, sleeping pills and coke are a dangerous mix you know. Add in some tramp and all the clubs he was going to it was bound to happen sooner or later.” She smiles at you then and you’ve seen that same smile on Jason, recognize that smile. That’s the one he gave you after he came over and installed the first camera. Your blood runs cold for a second before you’re pulled out of your head by Estelle flipping the page and cooing at how cute Jason was taking apart his first Nintendo console.

-

20 weeks, 5 months and you’re suffering. Your hips are aching and popping, there’s this nerve in your back that keeps pinching and sometimes it’s so bad you can’t even move. You can’t even sleep a full night before the little one is moving around or you’re dying from how hot it is. You whine as Jason gets up, jostling you awake.

“Jas no, come back to bed I finally got some sleep.” You’re making grabby hands at him and he walks around to your side of the bed and pressing kisses against your hair.

“I cant baby, we’re gonna have people over for your shower and I should clean up a little.” Jason is rubbing his hand up and down your belly as he talks, settling the little one and you can feel angry tears well up in your eyes.

“Do we have to? I don’t want to Jason, please?” You can feel the tears leak out now and you’re mad, mad at him, mad at your monkey for keeping you up, mad at yourself for getting pregnant. He kisses your tears before giving you a filthy kiss and teasing his fingers over your clit that makes you gasp and forget all about how mad you just were.

“You have friends come over and we get to know whether it’s a boy or a girl. Then we get to think about names. So no. I’ll get the bath ready for ya momma.” Jason's walking away before you can pull him back and demand he makes you cum. You shut your eyes and try to get ready for this day.

The party is easy breezy, gifts were exchanged, weird games were played, and your friends organized a cute revel, filling a box with so many pink balloons and streamers, and ribbon you’re sure you’re going to find them even after your baby is born. Jason’s getting nervous again, you’ve kicked everyone out saying you’re tired and they left without complaint.

“Whats wrong Jas? I can feel you worrying from over here.” You scoot over on the couch and make room for him, he moves from where he was cleaning stuff up and drops into the seat. He’s running his hands through his hair before you pull one to your lips and kiss it. He’s lets out the breath he was holding, letting the tension drop from his shoulders as he rests his head back on the couch. Spreading his long long legs out wide, you feel the pang of arousal as you eye up his thighs, his crotch the way his adam’s apple bobs when he smiles before he letting everything out.

“What if I’m not right for you? What if I’m just like my dad? I don’t think I’m good enough to raise your ba-” you cut off his tirade by straddling his thigh and rubbing your cunt against it. You whipped off your bottoms as soon as everyone left, just in your panties and a tank as you lounged and watched Jason. His head snaps up and he whimpers when he can feel you soak through his denim already. You pull his hands up to cup your chest, sighing as you catch your clit as just the right angle and he lifts up your heavy tits, giving your back a little bit of a break.

“You’re gonna be fucking perfect Jason.” You’re getting desperate and the way Jason is looking at you like you single-handedly hung the stars in the sky is feeding your ego and your arousal. His chest is rising and falling just as fast as yours is and his cock has filled out so fast he’s light headed. You keep going, so desperate after that little tease this morning you’re already close to coming and its not fair. Jason tenses his thigh under you and you gasp. “Do that fucking again Jas. Right now.” He whines and does as he is told, as the little change helps push you over the edge and you’re cumming, soaking his jeans and hungrier than before for his cock. You weave your fingers through his hair and yank, hard.

“Take your cock out right fucking now.” He’s nodding eyes glazed over as he rushes to do what you’ve asked. You don’t let up on the death grip on his hair, covering his neck with dark hickies and bites that he’ll have to cover up when he leaves for work. You feel the trail of precum as he frees his cock from his pants and it slides up your thigh, you pull back and when you see it, so angry red and big for you you grind down onto his thigh again and moan. You’re maneuvering yourself so you can sit on Jason's cock and ever the worrier he is, he's helping. Spreading his legs wider, his hands holding your hips so you and your belly can fit against him tight on the couch that is probably too small to be doing this on.

You let go of his hair, pull his lips to yours as you finally sit down on his cock, the moan you rip from your chest is almost as pretty as Jason’s sigh.

“You’re so fucking tight for me baby girl. So fucking hot.” Jason's mouth is running and you huff, not happy he’s coherent enough to do so. You kiss him again, nipping on his bottom lip hard as you start to move. His hands are everywhere, your tits, your thighs, your back pulling you close so he can shove his tongue down your throat. You haven’t been at this long but you can feel the orgasm building right at the base of your spine, where lately it’s only hurt. It’s not long before Jason has a thumb on your clit and a nipple in his mouth. You hold him close to your chest as you bounce bounce bounce on his big dick.

“Fuck I'm gonna cum Jason. Please keep doing that.” You tilt your head back and grind yourself onto him, you’re so fucking close and you can feel from the way Jason’s pulsing inside of you he’s not too far off either. He pinches the nipple he doesn’t have in his mouth hard and that's enough to tip you over the edge, soaking his lap yet again as you cum. Thighs shaking tense as you clamp down on Jason’s length and he is right behind you. Filling you up to overflowing with his cum, messy as you both come down.

-

“JASON!” You’re frantic as you call for him,m knowing damn well he is not there. You can feel your water pool where you're standing in the kitchen. Of course the ONE DAY Jason has to go into work your water breaks. You reach for your phone that's ringing as you shift worriedly in your spot in the kitchen.

“What's wrong babygirl?” Jason’s on the other line, frantic, you can hear shouting in the back. It might be his boss but you’re starting to freak out and the first contraction hits and you wail. “Baby, talk to me, I can see you but the cameras don’t have microphones yet.”

“I- my water just broke Jas, I just had a contraction I need you here.” You’re crying, panicking and you can hear Jason huff and puffin your ear. He’s surprisingly calm on the other end as you sniffle into the phone, trying to remember those stupid breathing exercises you learned about in that Virtual birthing class you both took.

“I’m almost home love, can you get to the bag near the door?” You move, stiff and awkward but you’re moving. “Good job baby girl. Get to the bag by the door and I’m almost home. We'll get you to the hospital soon, promise.” You’re taking those deep breaths as you waddle to the door.

“Jas, how are you almost home? It takes 20 fucking-” you gasp as you feel another twinge and take big gulps of air. “You’re 20 minutes away if you take the train.” You’re puzzled as you hear him breathing heavy through the line.

“I just ran. It’s faster.” You nearly drop the phone at that.

“You did not! Jason! You are going to die!” You’re laughing and you can hear his footsteps pounding, you’re at the go bag by the door and you try to bend over to pick it up and nearly fall over. You’re still not fucking used to being this big. The door slams open as you’re resting against the wall bag as your feet and ruined clothes. Jason's there, your man, your creepy fucking neighbor who spied on you and now got your pregnant. He’s sweaty, he really did run all the way from work for you and the thought makes you want to laugh and cry at how much you fucking love him. But then another contraction hits and you're crying out in pain again. He’s picking up the bag at your feet before he’s helping you step into some slides and gently ushering you down the stairs to Estelle's car that is waiting to take you to the hospital.

One Epidural and 14 hours of labor later you have your baby girl, Delilah Stella Roberts, sleeping against your chest and Jason is trying not to cry as she has him already wrapped around her finger.

[meltwonu]

s n a k e     |     e y e s     [chapter 8]

pairing; snakehybrid!woozi x female!reader

this chapter’s notes; minor angst, major fluff 🥺 the smut(fingering) in this is lite but it’ll all make sense🥺🥺🥺 a bit of a cuter chapter, and lots of storyline 💕💕💕💕💕 this chapter focuses more on Jihoon and friends(tm) hehehe~💕💕

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - x - x

Jihoon wakes up the next morning feeling almost completely fine; just a tad cold despite being in bed with you. He snuggles closer into you from behind, arm wrapped around you in a vice grip.

“Ugh… Jihoon…”

“Mmm?”

“S’hot…” He pouts against your shoulder; he knew that it’d be difficult for you to sleep with the heaters and humidifiers on but you’d done it for his sake. Sacrificed your comfort for his. “I’m sorry…” You attempt to turn in his grip, instead giving up and just reaching an arm behind you to pat at his hair.

“Don’t apologize~ You’re sick and you needed them. I’ll live with being hot and sweaty. But are you feeling any better?” Jihoon loosens his grip a little, letting you resituate yourself in his hold. You turn around, facing him as you take in his features. His blonde hair was slightly matted down to his forehead and his eyes were still laced with sleep, but he already visibly looked a lot better than the previous day.

“I’m feeling better, still a ‘lil cold but I feel like I’ll probably be fine by tomorrow. I think… last night really helped.” He smiles widely, eyes turning to crescents when he laughs a little.

“Oh, I bet. I’m surprised that it didn't completely heal you, to be honest. Who needed Wonwoo as your doctor when I'm here.” Now it’s you turn to laugh, snuggling closer into his chest as you do. “But really, I’m glad you’re feeling better. We--I was really worried, y’know? I mean, did you get sick often before you went to Seungcheol’s?”

“Um… Kind of? I mean in the winter it was kinda inevitable. The overpass only really shielded the rain and snow but I couldn’t do much about the temperature. I think I mentioned it before but there were times some of the diners near-by would let some of us stay overnight when the weather was really bad. Otherwise… some of us just huddled up under the overpass.”

Your heart breaks listening to Jihoon; no matter how many times you’d hear it, you didn’t think you’d ever get used to hearing about his past. You were just glad you could provide him with a safer future. “Were there other snake hybrids with you?”

“Nah, it was just me. I think some of the other runaways just felt bad for me since I was the only cold-blooded hybrid out there.”

Jihoon can practically feel the sadness radiating off of you, tightening his embrace as his kisses your forehead.

“You don’t have to be sad, y’know. It’s in the past now. And I’m happy here.”

By midday, Jihoon feels good enough to come sit with you in the living room, watching a movie while you get some work done. Your phone pings next to you, text messages from Minghao.

“Hmm, Minghao says he can drop Chan off next Friday. I guess I should ask Seungcheol if that’s okay but is that okay with you too?” Jihoon turns his attention from the TV to you, nodding. “Does Chan have a phone? Can you ask Minghao if I can get his number just for future reference.” You text Minghao to ask, setting your phone back down afterwards.

“Huh… I just realized something, Ji.”

“Yeah?”

“You’ve never asked if Mingyu’s got a phone or something. Isn’t he one of your closest friends?” He pouts, hiding his face in the turtleneck he was currently wearing. “That’s only because he doesn’t know I have a phone and the second he finds out, he’ll text and call me every second of the day.”

“Aww, but that’s cute! He really likes you!”

Jihoon pokes his head out, cheeks flushes as he stares at you from across the sofa.

“He’s clingy and followed me around like a lost puppy and always tried to sleep in my bed.”

“Jihoon… isn’t that… isn’t that what y-you do.” You hold back a laugh, his eyes widening like saucers as he begins tripping over his own words. “I--n-no! It’s not the same! I just--he--I--” You can’t help but think his flustered expression is cute, watching as the pout on his face grows.

“It’s different when I do it!”

“Ngh… Ji…”

Jihoon lazily kisses the nape of your neck, the pads of his fingers pressing harder into your clit as he spoons you from behind. He’d pinned you down onto the sofa, hands snaking underneath your shirt and down between your legs with ease as he worked you up. He knew you were sensitive to his touch; your body relaxing into his hold almost instantly.

He smiles against your skin, delicate fingers sliding between your folds until he slowly eases in his middle finger into your entrance. Your soft breaths and cute whines are music to his ears as he continues to tease you; body warming up under his skillful caress.

Jihoon leans into your warmth, sighing contentedly. Being intimate with you and touching you wasn’t always a daily occurrence; he knew your body needed to rest. And even though he knew you’d never turn him down, he always knew his own limits as well, never pushing you or himself for more.

But the times the two of you were intimate, he cherished like no other, loving the way you were always so welcoming and ready for him.

“Jihoon…”

The pitch in your voice rising lets Jihoon know you’re close, snuggling into you more as he abandons fucking you with his finger in favour of rubbing your clit to make you cum.

“It’s okay, cum when you want.”

You whimper his name over and over, back pressing into his chest hard when you finally cum. Jihoon nuzzles into the crook of your neck, kissing your cheek as he works you through it.

“I told you, it’s different when I do it.”

Friday comes sooner than the two of you think; making sure Jihoon has everything he needs before he takes off for the day. Minghao had offered to drive Jihoon and Chan to Seungcheol’s to make it easier on them, to which they both agreed.

“You sound like a mom.”

You roll your eyes at Jihoon’s comment, watching as he layers a jacket over his sweater. “In fairness, you’re taking Chan with you and he is a baby.”

“He’s, like, 21 in human years!” His phone rings in his pocket, a message from Chan on the other end. Despite Jihoon complaining abt Mingyu potentially ringing him up all hours of the day, he surely was doing the exact thing to Chan from what you’d seen.

“Yeah, but he’s also my boss’ hybrid so be careful okay? I’m not just worried about him, but you too.”

“Chan says they’re almost here. But yeah, I promise we’ll be okay. I won’t take your precious bunny anywhere unnecessary.” He snorts.

“Don’t you think he’s cute?”

“You’re asking me if I think Chan is cute?” You nod, watching as he checks to make sure his keyboard is ready to go.  “He’s a bunny hybrid. Everyone sees those bunny ears and they lose their minds.” He mimics hysteric screaming, chuckling afterwards.

“Some hybrids have it easy.”

The adoption home is in complete chaos as soon as Jihoon and Chan walk in. Mingyu and Seokmin meet them at the door, excited faces welcoming them in. And there’s only a second after Jihoon leans his keyboard up against the wall before Mingyu wraps his arms around Jihoon, lifting him up into the air.

“It’s Jihoon-hyung!! I missed you so much!!”

The tall puppy hybrid spins him around in his grasp, Jihoon beating on his back to let him down. Chan watches with amazed fascination at the exchange, eyes slowly glancing at the smiling male behind the two. He slowly sidesteps the two currently locked in an odd embrace, heading straight for the other with determination.

“Hi! I’m Chan! I’m Jihoon-hyung’s friend!” Seokmin’s mouth opens in a surprised ‘o’, grasping Chan’s hands in his own in a handshake. “I’m Seokmin! Wow, when did Jihoon-hyung have time to make a new friend?” There’s a grumble and a whimper behind the two, both turning to see Jihoon blushing and Mingyu holding a section of his head.

“Jihoon-hyung pulled my hair… and then bit my ear!!”

“I told you to put me down!”

Seokmin and Chan share a laugh, both shaking their heads at them bickering. “To be fair, they’ve always been like that.” The bunny hybrid raises a brow, meeting Seokmin’s stare. “Really? Jihoon-hyung seemed so calm when I met him the first time.” Seokmin watches with fondness as Mingyu picks up Jihoon’s keyboard for him, the two walking in unison towards the sunroom.

“That’s generally him.”

The four hybrids spend the next hour or two getting to know each other, laughs and giggles filling up the space as they share stories. Jihoon was glad that they welcomed Chan in easily; Mingyu immediately fond of the younger boy.

“I can’t believe Jihoon-hyung didn’t come around sooner! And with a new friend!” Jihoon spreads out onto the floor, soaking up the sun’s rays after days of rain. “I just wanted to get used to my new place, is all. And I only met Chan once, we just kept in touch by calling and--”

“Wait, calling? You have a phone?”

The only thing running through Jihoon’s head as he watches Mingyu petting at Chan’s ears is ‘oh shit’. “Uh, I mean--”

“Yeah! Jihoon-hyung talks to me every day! Sometimes we even facetime when he’s got a new idea for a song!” The snake hybrid bites his lip, watching the pout sit on Mingyu’s face when he realizes.

“Jihoon-hyung… doesn’t like me…” Mingyu pets at Chan’s ears sadly, nuzzling into the younger male for comfort. Seokmin holds back a laugh, watching the panic fill Jihoon’s features as the smaller male sits up from his position. “No! Damn it, it’s not like that! I like you okay!?” Mingyu’s bottom lip shakes as he meets Jihoon’s flustered expression, puppy eyes on full display.

“Really? You like me?”

“Y-yes. I just didn’t say anything ‘cause I knew you’d call at like 4AM when I’m sleeping.”

“No, I wouldn’t!” Seokmin and Jihoon give the tall male a pointed look, both raising a brow in disbelief. “I mean I’d try to keep it… to a minimum.” Jihoon sighs in defeat, reaching into his pants pocket for his phone to pass to Mingyu.

“Here, put in your details. You’re only allowed 13 text messages, 3 attempted calls, and 1 facetime call, okay? And no calling after 10PM. Seokmin, you can add your contact info in, too.” Mingyu nods happily, tail wagging behind him as he reaches for the phone. “Wow, Jihoon-hyung sure is strict. Does that mean the 3 facetime calls we had the other day were too much? Should we stop?” Jihoon wishes the bunny hybrid didn’t have such loose lips; his own eyes sliding shut as he exhales harshly through his nose.

“Three!?”

Seokmin breaks out into a boisterous laugh, falling onto his back as the tears well up in his eyes. “Oh my god!”

“Chan’s a baby, he’s got different rules!”

“I’m not a baby! I’m, like, 21 in human years!” This time it’s Chan’s turn to pout. “And anyway, hyung was the one to call me!”

Jihoon groans, dragging himself closer to his keyboard. “I just wanted to run a song idea by Chan, okay? I promise if it happens again, I’ll try to call the two of you.”  

Mingyu brings out a late lunch after a while, the four of them taking a break from listening to Jihoon play melodies and writing lyrics.

“Oh! By the way Jihoon-hyung, Mingyu and I had an idea!” The snake hybrid turns his attention to Seokmin, who was currently sitting with Chan across the room. Seokmin and Chan were thankful to have similar diets, finally able to share lunch with another person. “Mm?”

“There’s this cafe down the street called ‘An Ode’. Seungcheol-hyung took Mingyu and I there the other day and they do this thing on Fridays where music artists can come perform! Mingyu and I were kinda thinkin’...”

“...That we should perform!” Mingyu finishes Seokmin’s sentence, tail wagging excitedly as he peers at Jihoon.

“Oooh, that sounds like an awesome idea!” Chan chimes in.

Jihoon bites the inside of his cheek, unsure. He used to busk for money and it’s not that he wasn’t comfortable with it but it’d been quite a bit of time since he’d performed, much less in front of a crowd. Those times, he’d only covered songs too. Now that he was capable of writing his own, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to perform them. “Um, I mean… what are the… requirements?” Seokmin ponders for a moment, shoveling a forkful of his salad into his mouth.

“Mm, I fink we jus’ hab to apply.”

“Seokmin, don’t talk with your mouth full, it’s gross.”

“Mingyu, you literally sneeze into your hand.”

The puppy hybrid pouts, taking a bite of his own food. “Anyway, I’m not… opposed to the idea. I just… I don’t know if I’m comfortable with any of my songs right now.”

“But they’re really good, hyung!” Chan gives him a proud smile from across the room, finishing up his food before he scoots closer to the shorter male. “I think it’d be an awesome goal for all of us to break out of our comfort zones. I’m so used to hanging around Minghao-hyung’s apartment and all but it’s nice... having new friends. And getting to try new things with you guys.” A cute blush coats Chan’s cheeks, shy smile on his face.

Jihoon recognizes Chan’s right. Now that you’d given him a safe space and a loving home, he felt more at peace and ready to tackle new things. He slowly meets all of their stares one by one, seeing the determination swimming in their eyes. 

“Okay... Let’s do it!”

That night when Jihoon gets back, it’s a race to get his key into the doorknob, adrenaline pulsing through his veins when he all but tears the door open. 

He haphazardly sets his things down, giddy smile on his face when he sprints  into the living room. You stand in the middle of the open space, confused eyes meeting his eager ones as you set your cup down onto the coffee table.

“Ji, wha--” 

Jihoon tugs you into his arms, excitedly kissing you on the lips. You melt into his arms immediately, kissing him back with just as much excitement as you wrap your arms around his neck. He smiles into the kiss; his grip on you tightening.

When he pulls away, he stares at you lovingly, lips still tilted up in a serene smile. “I take it you had a good day?” 

“Mmhmm~” The two of you stay in each other’s embrace for a while longer, eyes locked onto each other. “Wanna tell me why you’re so excited?” He nods animatedly, guiding you to the sofa. 

Once the two of you are seated, he takes your hand in his, interlocking his fingertips with yours. Jihoon smiles shyly, a faint pink across his cheeks. 

“I--I want... I want to be a musician.”

[mage-and-the-tantrums]

Excerpts from a book I will probably *try* to write

333 Days home.

333 days ago exactly. August the 5th, 2020, I took my final return flight, from Istanbul to Tunisia, after 5 years of expatriation. After graduating quietly, on my bed while wearing shorts, I found no reasons to stay in Turkey, and no reasons to not come back home, in a world torched by a global pandemic.

Upon returning home, and within a month, I discovered how badly my family failed and grew apart. I never thought it could happen to us. My sister helped wake me from my stun. "They just behave for a couple of months, when you were here for vacations, and also whenever we called you on messenger. It's broken", she said, with an acceptance that should be forbidden to her age.

I was led, mystically, to discover some dark secrets. I refuse to talk or write about them here. Only one person besides me knows the whole truth.

The bitch and a half about knowing something that you cannot divulge to anyone, and I mean absolutely not a living soul, is that it detaches you from the world. It leaves you questioning your two best friends with whom you thought you would discuss anything. You charge and trial "in absentia" them, and you find them guilty without them actually doing anything. It has been an education, to discover what loneliness truly meant. I felt corrected, back to school, as harshly as possible, just because I thought I was alone when in Istanbul. Life showed me, in the span of 30 days, how much I could be alone, while within my family, my friends, and the country that I love and missed beyond words.

I would sit next to my friends, in the backseat of a car, listening to autotuned american rap (which I disdain), while they converse about girls, cars, and the eventuality of marriage with the inexplicable costs that it imposes in our country, and how one should escape this sorry corner of the world to Europe. I would hear scribbles and syllables, as if I shrank and sank 6 feet deeper into myself. The only thought swimming in the pool of my brain is "how little do they know about the dilemma tearing me apart. They are here, they have known me for years, they are practically the family I chose for myself. And yet, and yet, we're oceans apart. Nothing would be the same ever again. How many secrets could a person hold while sitting next to you ? We're all strangers to one another.

I truly discovered how loneliness could snatch someone from their settings, to dictate its own terms and draw an existence, in pale shades of grey for that someone to dwell in. At some point, I realised that, no matter how shockingly and frighteningly true my thoughts were, there were equally dangerous and self-destructive. Looking into what felt like a void is fun and instructive and intellectually probably sexy, until it begins leaking into your life, which it does pretty often. I was as alone as I permitted myself to be. I figured that I needed to create a breathing gap between me and some shit in my life, that, in the end, is none of my business. Some persons decided and acted, while apparently thinking so little to none about the consequences. It is not, nor it will ever be, under any pretext, my problem. I kept repeating it, slowly, breathing it into my lungs, and holding to that breath, in the corner of my room, during some long ass nights, and I realised that I really needed to believe that. I needed to find a formula to market that idea to my brain which kept feeding on the void. Truth can be a very subjective and useless concept. So I turned to another, more pragmatic concept; priorities. I asked the primordial, narcissistic question: "What about me ?". No one was asking that question, so I did.

From there, I cruised my way to restore some inner peace after a chaos that was served to me, and before I could speak, crammed down my throat. If I could reduce it down to a words, it would be this: "Everyone thought of themselves. Nobody thought about me, so why the fuck should I lose sleep over it ? I'll think of myself as well, because if I don't, no one will".

Friendships are another big, juicy topic. Tough love all the way, and if you don't like it, then you're overly sensitive. Tough love wrapped by layers and layers of selfishness and a critical lack of any notion of emotional intelligence. But at the end of the day, I think that I am privileged to have a circle of people with whom I can ride and spend time. It could have been a lot worse.

The food is awesome. I genuinely think that Tunisian cuisine is criminally underrated. It never got properly marketed on a global level (nor it ever will). It is very hard to not gain weight here, and I am regularly (although with a shy frequency) I go out to run.

Financially, I am leeching off my Mom, since I am still working on establishing an eCommerce platform with a friend. She gladly helps, and I feel so grateful for her support. She has been my guardian in these difficult times.

Do I think about expatriation again ? I honestly do not know. Tunisia has been sinking for quite some time, and everyone is looking for a way out. I am convinced that we should stay here and fight. No matter how little the effort, we should grab the situation by the reigns and ride our way, no matter where. But I understand those who believe in the "personal salvation". Everyone should aspire for a financial and a moral dignified life, which is becoming harder by the day here. The social tissue is more like a bikini now, with the bra being the wealthy who got wealthier (upper), and all of the rest including the middle class who are sinking deeper into the pit of bank credits. Want to get married ? that would be this huge amount that would never be able to pay for with 2 salaries and a 10 years saving account. Want to purchase a house ? how cute. Mathematically and financially impossible, even with the most elaborate and strict saving measures. But hey, all is possible with a huge, fat, juicy credit bank that would suck nearly half of your salary (if not exactly half) for 1 to 2 decades.

Being back home is re-calibrating your tongue, your digestive system and your daily habits. It is a constant rewiring, and an eternal effort to make things better, because we know better now. Being back home is struggling to find your place again, because everyone is so used to your absence they often need to be reminded you're here now. Being back home is the choice to actually stress-test your relationships, and see if people would bother to grant you once again, access to their lives. Being back home is the shocking resolution that most won't bother to call, and that most relationships are as random as the circumstances. In a parallel reality, you wouldn't even be friends. Being back home is very far from being the solution to anything. But being back home feels like recharging. It feels once again that I am alive.

[wevegottogetaway]

Thanks fo’ saving my ass (Part 2)

There is a part 3 coming, I think these two deserve the...culmination, but I wasn’t sure if I could have it ready soon enough. Stay tuned for more, hope you enjoy! x

Part 1   -   Part 3*

It starts with a resounding bang. A back curving over maple hardwood; taut muscle stretching soft cotton fabric; twin jades squinted in concentration; a shoulder blade protruding briefly for one swift determining movement. Red, blue, yellow, purple, orange phenolic resin scattering across green worsted wool like a dozen pinballs simultaneously kicked in various directions.

It ends with the deep echo. A ball falling into emptiness before meeting rock-bottom; the release of a soft withheld breath; firm flesh unflexing with satisfaction; two sets of glossy eyes meeting in a knowing look. "Nice break, Styles. Stripes it is," y/n happily comments once Harry leans back from the pool table.

Gibson’s is full of rowdy chatters, tipsy laughs and fulsome smiles. Strangers bonding for a night of undiluted carefreeness, clicking drinks after merry drinks in honor to their new ephemeral best friends. All sorrows have been forsaken on the coat rack at the entrance,  hung in insouciance, leaving nothing but good spirits to sit at the tables and loiter near the bar. Everything about this place is warm and nurturing, a cosy embrace after a tedious day, a home for the people that lets them nurse bottles and wounds alike, and sees them leave later on, cheerful, relaxed and healing. It took but a second for Harry to understand why y/n is so fond of the place and he was not surprised to find her on a first-name basis with the barmaid, the two of them catching up on life while she was preparing the drinks.

Now, fifteen minutes in, they’ve happily made their way to the vacant timeworn pool table at a secluded corner of the bar, drinks and grins in toe. The space is only lit up by a single lamp hanging from the ceiling, casting daedal shadows along the walls and across the table’s carpeted surface. The subdued light and music crooning in the background make for a suggestive atmosphere, air thick with limitless curiosity and enticing promises.

The corner of Harry’s lips quirks in a wry smile and a bold glint takes residence at the crease of his eyes; the telltale sign of a burgeoning idea brewing up in his cheeky mind. "What’dya say we make this a lil more interesting?" The offer is served with a raised brow, a hand on his waist, and one foot perched on its toes over the other as he leans against the cue.

From across the pool table, y/n is quite endeared at the sight but her response comes out in fake offense,"oh I’m sorry, am I boring you already?"

"Quite the opposite actually." His head tilts the slightest bit to the side, gaze unwavering from her face in a mission for persuasion.

Her lips grimace as she tries to suppress a betraying smile to no avail, "fine, I’m listening."

He grins victoriously at her inability to keep a straight face, his limbs dislodging from his casual pose. "We take turns," his motions at the space between them. "F’we pocket, we get to ask one question. No bullshit answer, jus’ the truth." His eyes are wide as he gauges her response.

"A question, huh?" she takes her time to contemplate the proposition just to watch him squirm in impatience. "Damn, for a sec I thought you were about to suggest strip-pool." She sends him a playful look as she walks the length of the table to step closer to him and have a better look at his chiseled features.

"I mean, m’totally down but might be a bit unfair on your part," his eyes briefly trail down her body in silent conveyance of her single-piece attire. He’s got much more material to shed before exposing skin than she does.

"Wouldn’t you like to know." The suggestive retort has Harry’s stomach churn with humid passion, the question of just how many layers she’s wearing exactly, playing with the most lascivious parts of his brain. "Not that it matters, you’d be butt-naked before you’d get a nip-slip."

"Overestimating yourself?"

"Just giving you fair warning," she shrugs in nonchalance running her fingers along the edge of the table, "so you know what you’re getting yourself into."

When she lifts her head back to connect their gaze again, she finds him biting at his bottom lip to contain his signature smirk, "no worries there, darlin’. M’all willing." He almost punctuates his retort with a salacious wink but decides to save it for a more opportune time. Something tells him he’s in for a long evening, not that it’s any cause for concern. Like he said, he is very much consenting to anything her heart desires to do to him.

"Good to know." Y/n quips back with a smile before leaning on her hand resting upon the pool table. "What’s your question then?"

For a moment, Harry forgets he just broke the rack and successfully sent a plain purple ball in one of the table’s pocket, taking him one step closer to victory and granting him one question as per his own proposition. He quickly gathers his reeling thoughts before settling on an easy inquiry, fingers fiddling with the desire to sketch every bit of her character. "Right um, do you have other hobbies besides playin- or should I say, winning pool?"

She wants to slap- or should she say, kiss the smug look off his lovely face, but her answers airs in the same level tone she employs at work, "yes I do."

It’s not enough for Harry’s archeologic curiosity though. He’s barely dusted off the ground beneath his feet to reveal the hint of new groundbreaking findings; armed with sieves and brushes, he is eager to dig a little further, "and what might those be?"

However, y/n is quick to rebuff him, "uh uh, that’s two questions."

Indignation soars through his straightened posture, as he cries out a faint ’what? no!’ and her own ego grows two size at her cunning deceit, "gotta up your game if you wanna keep that perky bum intact, Styles."

Earlier words resonate in the confines of his outfoxed mind then, you can kick my ass at that game of pool as promised, and he tries really hard not to think about the promise following them. Instead he counterattacks in obvious diversion tactic, "that’s twice you’ve mentioned my ass in the past 5 minutes, perhaps I should read into it?"

"I guess you’ll have to wait and see," she lithely deflects as she grabs her own cue with a determined look etched upon her face, "my turn now."

With powerful strides, y/n navigates around the table to position herself at the most promising angle for a score of her own. Once she has both her target and the cue ball in firing line, she tunes out every last bit of stimulus encompassing her; the muffled sound of the music, the sticky oxygen filling up her lungs with sensual tension, the charming presence of the beau intently ogling her every move.

It barely takes her a couple seconds of intense concentration before a sharp thump is bouncing off the table and piercing through the air. The shot is so accurate, clean-cut, vigorous yet graceful and elegant all out once, Harry finds himself mesmerized by her skills more than the subtle form curving out from her bent posture.

The satisfaction is evident in her traits as she straightens up to face him, a pleased rictus forming at her lips. She doesn’t let any suspense unfurl before she cashes in her prize, "so what’s up with the muffin deliveries? You a stress-baker or summat?"

It’s a puzzle that’s been boggling her mind for while now; ever since the first time she watched him gallivanting around the office, handing out kindness and freshly baked goods for the small price of a friendly smile; it’d been a reoccurring thing ever since. The recollection has Harry’s cheeks warm up to a bashful shade of vermillion at the thought of admitting the reason behind his action: he’d bake a basketful of cakes just so he could give her one without exposing himself. Being straight forward with his infatuation may have been unfeasible at the time, but there was nothing against inconspicuously indulging the sweet tooth he knew she had, right?

"I dunno, just like seein' people smile, and everyone likes a good muffin, right?" His answer teeters on the ledge between veracity and evasion, the genuine ‘they were all for you’ being replaced by a less naked truth.

Y/n nods at his answer and waits until he is about to aim for another shot to voice her musings out loud, "mmm, they are quite delicious." Her attempt to distract him turns fruitful when his ears perks at her sultry voice right as he pointedly knocks the white ball with his cue. It’s off by an inch but a near-hit doesn’t help assuage his frustration, "fuck."

"Oh bummer. Guess you’ll have to pass," y/n can’t help but to tease him.

And the pout on his lips does nothing to quell her amusement, "bollocks, you distracted me."

"I did no such thing," she denies before taking his place at the table. The odds are in her favor, a perfect alignment offering itself to sink the blue striped ball right into the closest pocket. And because y/n never misses a clear shot when she’s handed one, that’s exactly what happens. Tucking the cue back at her side, she mulls over the hundred questions titillating her mind and settles for another pass at him,"is this suit the most extravagant you own and if not, what are the others like?"

Harry scrunches up his nose at yet another dig taken at the expense of his clothes, his voice pitching a halftone higher than usual, "hey, s’nough outta you, leave my suits out of it." There is a pout puckering at his lips and y/n giggles at his theatrics when he brings his hands to his chest in a protective gesture. This man and his suits…

"Somehow I don’t believe you give a single fuck about people’s opinion on your fashion choices."

"Very true. But I do value your opinion." For a brief moment, humor and wit give way to vulnerable sincerity as the two of them lock eyes over the pool table. A shy smile graces y/n’s lips, her heart faltering at his sweet sentiment before Harry gently breaks the consuming stare-off, "well, if you’re lookin’ fo’ more extravagant, I actually have a canary yellow flared suit that goes with a violet dress-shirt." And just like that, they found their way back to confidential banter.

"Damn, now I have to see it."

"One day if you’re lucky," this time he does wink at her, and this time he doesn’t let her enchantress juju distract him from the task at hand. As soon as the balls vanishes from the table, the question flies out of his mouth, "do you really find my suits obnoxious?"

Y/n pauses at the inquiry and tries to read into his eyes. She inspects the bright emeralds for  any unsuspected insecurities and when she finds none, she sends him a simple smile, "I love them. I just enjoy too much your reactions when I give you shit about them." Her chuckle tugs at Harry’s lips, before she lets honesty flooding past hers, "you got such a great sense of who you are, Harry, it just shows in the way you dress. I admire that, don’t let that go."

Interiorly, he’s heart is jumping in somersaults at possibly the kindest compliment someone’s ever granted him, the fact that it came from her only sending his beating organ into more acrobatics. Exteriorly, he returns her tender smile and mutters a timorous ‘thanks love,’ before watching her pocket another ball.

This time she doesn’t have to mull it over, "why did you wait?"

"Huh?"

"When we kissed earlier, you said you’d wanted to do it for a while. Why didn’t you?"

Her words are bare of any reproach as they both lean on their side against the table, inches apart from each other. It’s a fair question; one that she doesn’t really own as the word could have easily tumbled out from his mouth instead. It’s him on the spot though, and while he didn’t quite expect to broach such hazardous matters over a game of pool, he appreciates the openness of their bond. "I dunno, you always seemed so attached to boundaries at work, always so professional, I didn’t think you’d want me to make a move."

"I secretly did," she whispers.

"Yeah?"

"Mhm."

Goosebumps race down Harry’s arms as he takes in her confession and the way her teeth are  nipping her lips into a darker shade of pink. His eyes are drawn to them, the urge to close the gap and have her moaning in his mouth growing harder and harder to ignore, "fuck that’s sexy. You’re sexy."

The praise washes over y/n like a cold shower after a scorching day at the beach; startling shivers at first, golden skin tingling, and then all-encompassing relief. She loves how unfiltered he is with her, baring his thoughts to her just as they come, no editing, no secret agenda, no diffidence. Just her pure effect on him plastered across his beautiful face and candy-coating his words with a thick oozing layer of honeycomb syrup.

Leaning the slightest bit towards him, she tempts him with a near-kiss, almost dipping her lips in exquisite spongy fudge, but stops just as their breaths starts blending in one hot mess, "your turn," she purrs against his lips tantalizingly, before stepping away.

Harry looks like he is now the one in need of a cold shower, eyes pinched closed as he tries to compose himself, "right," he clears his throat. It takes him a bit more time to regain enough focus to make a successful go at the game, but once he’s got a good hold on the cue, a stable breath and a clear view of the shot, he takes it with ease and fortune.

As soon as he straightens up, he erases the distance between them, a determined look hardening the subtle lines of his face. "Did you ever think about me like I thought about you? At work, did you ever see me pass in the hallway and it took everythin’ you had not to follow me and kiss me senseless in the copy-machine room while no-one was watchin’?"

"Fuck. The thought might have crossed my mind once or twice," y/n confesses in batted breath. It’s clear the scenario isn’t so much a fabrication of his mind made on the spot as it is  a confession of his own experience, and the thought has the air in her lungs going scarce, as though she’s reached the apex of Mount Everest.

Harry isn’t fending off the heated tension much better, fingers twitching around his cue as he’d rather have her underneath his fingertips instead. He takes one look at the ceiling to stave his yearning some and draws in a deep breath."This is killing me," he whimpers while his lips skim over he skin of her forehead. "Go on, take your damn shot so we can be done with this game."

"It was your idea," she reminds him wryly. All of it, really; coming here, playing pool, playing 20 fucking questions, this heated hodgepodge of salacity and virtuous adoration is all his doing.

"I miscalculated."

"Poor you," y/n gently mocks is disgruntled attitude before scoring another ball, or as she likes to regard, another question, another opportunity to further tease at his already crumbling countenance, "what about you, Harry, do you ever think about me? At work… or otherwise?"

She already knows the first half of the answer and only voiced the double-entendre to rile him up, so she’s quite stunned when he whizzes, "too fucking much fo’ my own good."

The pained expression on his face is almost comical for y/n, she can’t resist probing at his despair, "me too." He groans at the flowing visuals he can’t ban from his filthy mind before she gestures towards the pool table in a gentlemanly way, "and that’s your cue," they both share a chuckle at her silly pun.

If Harry wasn’t so lost in a whirlwind of lustful thoughts, he would revel in the way their intellects seem to dovetail on all fronts; humor, banter, seduction, sincerity, nothing is lost in translation, they seem to talk in the same love language. From teasing digs and dirty innuendos to play on words or heartfelt confessions, they know exactly which frequency to tune in.

"Fuck, I can’t see straight," he laughs as he misses a shot for the second time, and y/n quickly takes over his spot around the pool table. Settle, relax, aim, breathe, shoot; another point to her flawless record. She turns to him, looking intently at his blown irises to stir up the flame already inhabiting them, "was it good?"

"Mind-blowing," he answers without unlocking their eyes, and the whole conversation is starting to get to her too. Her thighs rub against together, knuckles turning white around her cue as she tightens her grip and Harry has to bite his lips to contain a moan. He tries to distract himself by taking his turn in the game, and burst out in laughter when he pockets the ball and y/n cries out, "blue ball in the pocket! I feel like their might be a subliminal message somewhere but I can’t quite put my finger on it"

Once they regain their breath from laughing, tears of joy actually peeling from the corner of their eyes, they go back to staring at each other. It’s Harry’s turn to ask a question, and the anticipation had y/n fidgeting under his consuming gaze. She expects him to bounce back on the previous question, but to her surprise he decides to take a different route, "tell me darlin’, if I were to kneel at your feet and look up that pretty dress right now, what color your lil panties would be?"

The question sounds boyish really, yet instead of rolling her eyes at him, her core clenches around emptiness at the thought of having him between her legs right this moment, "can’t answer that, sorry."

"Oh come on love, you gotta say. Them’s the rules," Harry tries to coax the answer out of her but she’s not budging.

"Sorry, Harry. I’d tell you if there was anything to tell." His eyes widen at her lewd implication, the revelation of just how many layers away she is from being in the nude, coming into light. Damn, he would have gotten much more than a nip-slip.

"Fuck me, I need to sit down for a mo’."

She laughs at his dramatic response before picking up her cue, "you do that, in the mean time…" The rest of her sentence is cut short as she positions herself at the pool table, and the next sound cutting through the humid atmosphere comes from the ball falling into its target.

"Jesus, do you ever miss?"

"I don’t play to lose, Styles," she quips back. "Now, what’s your biggest fantasy? Aside from shagging in the copy-machine room, that is."

Harry takes one step closer, gently backing her against the table with one hand encasing her at either side of her waist. As he towers over her, his ardent look ignites a fire at the pit of y/n’s stomach, flame licking all the way up to her heart and down to her toes. Her core throbs before the words fall out of his supple lips like maple syrup on a stack of fluffy pancakes. "Right now? Bend you over this pool table and have my way with you."

"In front of all this people?"

"What d’you think is stoppin’ me from doin’ it right now?"

"Manners?"

The retort earns her a deep chuckle, as he shakes his head in disbelief, "fuck y/n, I lost my manners the moment you kissed me."

The raw admission sends a shiver down her spine, before she regains her full bearings and pushing his cue against his chest for him to grab, "your turn."

Barely moving from his spot nestled against her, he successfully sends the ball down the drain and doesn’t waste any time before asking in the same sultry voice, "favorite position?"

‘Why are y’asking?"

"Future reference," he announces confident.

"Well in that case, kinda like this…" she brushes against him as she bends over the table, ass jutted out on one side, before adjusting the angle of her cue and aiming for the pocket, "…when everything aligns and it just sinks…" bam, she propels the sphere in one strong hit "…right through." She finishes her demonstration with a score and a suggestive smile, only but one ball left for her to obliterate; the eight ball. "Are you ready to lose, Styles?"

"Dunno, is that your question?"

"Yes. I got everything I want to know already."

"Then I don’t fucking care about losin", s’not the game I wanna play anymore," he trails a finger down the skin of her back, goosebumps erupting at his touch. He is stopped by the tip of her cue pressing at his chest, slowly pushing him back from her space, and his hands meet this air in surrender. She’s got a wicked smile on her lips and a title to uphold after all, "last shot, make it count."

Harry takes the shot hastily, half expecting another miss, but the solid yellow ball disappears into the table’s corner in a vibrant crash. Eyebrows raised and shallow breath, he pivots back towards her, "please tell me this is turnin’ you on s’much as it’s turnin’ me on?"

"Yes," she rubs the exposed skin of his chest, eyes leaving his face to trail down his torso. "I’m just better at hiding it," she brings her lips to his ear, "physically or otherwise apparently." Then she leaves a loud smack on his cheek and goes around the table to sink the last ball standing in the way of her victory. In true y/n fashion, she completes a faultless round with one last graceful hit that leaves Harry transfixed by her dexterity.

"Damn, you are the queen of pool, I’m bowing down to you. Any final question?"

She lays the cue down on the table before coming up to him, "Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"Take me back to my place?"

His head falls back on its neck, eyes closing in deliverance, "fuck yeah." This whole night may have been the most intense and rousing foreplay he’s ever experienced, he can’t wait to deliver good on his own promise.

➪ Masterlist

[ashenberry]

12, 19, and 20 for the ace attorney ask thing!!! EXCEPT for 12 you cant say a character that people are already begging to see again (klavier, franziska, gumshoe, etc)

12 - Character you’d like to see come back?

Does Vera fall under the stipulation? probably not but definitely vera I think in AJ she (and a lot of characters really!) got a good setup to make interesting comebacks the same way the trilogy had reoccurring characters (tho it would be a lot more intentional this time and a lot less space/development management) but Alas AJ never got a sequel and she was banished to the basement. On a lesser note, all of DD’s cast I love them so so much

19 - Favorite character design?

AAAGH NO DONT MAKE ME CHOOSE there’s. there’s so many. man if I had to choose ONE it would probably be aj era Ema I adore her not only do I think it’s just stellar on it’s own, but also with the added layer that it’s a translation of her rfta design, tho I’m pretty sure the two were in development at the same time? I can’t find solid timelines online about when rfta was released but it seems really close to aj anyways anyways first Of all I love everything about the design I like the messy ponytail and the bag of overflowing chemicals that shes probably not allowed I love her little watch I love her bow tie i love that she’s an aa women who’s finally allowed to wear pants I love that as of soj Ema is the only ace attorney main character shown to posesses a smart phone i love her snackoos I lov

20 - Worst Motive?

hi. this got long. Under the cut is post trilogy spoilers.

ooooo. hm. quick context I’m racking my brain for aa4-AA6 motives just because I’m remember those games better than the trilogy. I don’t wanna cop out and go with the no motive ones (Kristoph / Phantom) because wheres the fun in that. actually youre walking through my whole thought process with me here we go. in aj the motives are 1) kristoph 2) self defense also the jig is up 3) oh no the international cops are on to me and 4) covering tracks. All solid motives! (Not getting into Kristoph I like what the game did with him and while I wish he got a little more screen time and also a sequel I think the game did a decent enough execution) dd has oops! All spur of the moment murders except for I wanna say 5-2 so I guess you have to go a layer deeper and go what was the motive for the evil thing they got caught doing. Ted was selling bombs on the black market I believe moneys a decent motive. L’belle was broke because he wouldn’t sell his products (???) that’s. Actually really dumb but in a fun way I do like dd. Means was taking bribes so money again. And both cosmic and tommorow came back to oh no my secret identity! so i think the two motives of dd boil down to money and identity. I don’t know how the special episode ends sorry I’ve yet to make it all the way through. Ok soj the motives are 1) that one thing. whatever that one thing gave you 2) God I hate magicians 3) revolution 4) parent issues 5) both parts are politics. going deeper on the kurah’in side of things just runs into the inherit issue that soj has which making a country that kills all its lawyers was fucking stupid and having the American/Japense lawyers save this ”backward“ country is bad on levels beyond storytelling. so I’m not touching those. Storytellers motive is decent 👍 Magicals is stupid because first of all dude that was like a decade ago second of all your trying to ruin the life of an actual child and also collaterally damage an anything agency.

so that leaves us with Monstorus and Magical and honestly I had way more fun with Monstorus so magical had the worst motive out of the post trilogy ❤️ Sorry that was long

[terreisa]

Love Down the Line: Chapter 12

The last thing Indie musician Emma Swan needs is a gigantic wrench thrown in the workings of her biggest tour to date weeks before its launch.  When her backing guitarist that caused the problem says she has the perfect solution Emma is skeptical but left with little choice but to accept.  Unfortunately she isn’t really prepared for said solution to be former Rock Star and leading man of Emma’s teenage fantasies, Killian Jones.  With no other options and a month of performing across the country ahead of her Emma just hopes she doesn’t come to regret letting Killian onto her stage and into her life.

Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6, Ch 7, Ch 8, Ch 9, Ch 10, Ch 11, AO3

~*CS*~

 Boston, June 8th

Emma shifted from foot to foot in front of the door marked 520.  It had taken her over a week to get her shit together and make the trip that she’d originally intended to make the morning after her show in Vancouver.  Of course that had been before her phone had blown up with calls and texts about Killian’s video, which had hit a million views before the sun had even risen.  It had also been before the small gaggle of paparazzi had grown to a crowd and forced her to use the same back door to leave the hotel that she’d used to enter it the night before.  Those were the excuses she told herself in the light of day.  She was much more honest with herself at three in the morning when she couldn’t sleep.

In the dead of night it was easy to admit that she was a fucking coward.  Killian had laid his heart bare for the entire world to see, and judge, and all she’d done was call her manager.  Granted she’d had to take a dressing down and listen to a frustrated rant meant for someone else but that was nothing compared to the self flagellation she’d been doing since she’d landed in Portland and driven north instead of heading south.  To add an extra layer to her guilt she watched Killian’s video two or three times a day and that didn’t even count how many times she only pulled up the song portion.  That, in the end, had been what decided it for her.

She’d tried finding the song on every streaming service and on every platform that sold downloads but it wasn’t anywhere.  For the entire week she’d checked every morning when she woke up and every night before she went to bed but the song only seemed accessible in the video he posted.  The temptation to illegally download it had crossed her mind once or twice but she’d been able to hold herself in check, mostly because she knew the audio quality would suck but even more so because it felt almost cowardly.  That that would be the thing to somehow tip off Killian that she would rather torture herself with a shitty copy of the song he wrote for her than to actually talk to him.

It took far too long for her to piece together that because it couldn’t be downloaded or streamed meant that he wasn’t making any kind of profit from it.  When she finally did she felt like her heart had been plucked out of her chest and was on the precipice of being ground into dust.  She’d been out the door and on her way to Boston within five minutes of her realization and long before she could talk herself out of it.

The four hour drive had given her plenty of time to think over some things.  How she felt about him, really, truly felt about him, for one.  While Killian had pretty much said that he loved her she wasn’t so sure that was what she was feeling in return.  She definitely liked him, a lot, so much so that the weeks since she’d practically ghosted him she’d grown used to the constant ache under her breastbone.  The restless nights and obsessing over his video seemed a bit much but she could easily admit to herself that she missed him.  It didn’t necessarily mean that she loved him, they’d really only been together for a matter of days after all.

Then there was the slight issue of what the hell she was going to say to him.  An apology was a given.  On the flight back to Portland from Vancouver she’d finally admitted to herself that she might have possibly, slightly overreacted when she’d heard about Killian’s record contract.  She wasn’t completely in the wrong, he had lied and hidden things from her, but she definitely could have at least listened to what he’d had to say.  That was another thing, she was going to keep her damn mouth shut after she apologized and let him say whatever it was that he needed to say to her.

Her planning and imagined conversations got her into Boston but once she’d parked her car she’d begun to worry.  There was every possibility that he’d refuse to speak to her, that he’d take one look at her darkening his doorstep and slam the door in her face.  He might not even open the door at all, just see her distorted image through the peephole and decide not to bother.  By the time she’d reached his apartment she’d worked herself up so much with the ‘what ifs’ that she couldn’t bring herself to even knock on the damn door.

She’d been psyching herself up for at least ten minutes, raising her fist in a burst of courage only to drop it as another wave of unease washed over her.  As she lifted her hand for the fifth or fiftieth time one of his neighbors slammed their door shut.  Startled, her knuckles tapped the door, softly but enough to make a definite sound.  Resigned and relieved she sucked in a deep breath and soundly knocked twice, stepping back quickly so if he did look through the peephole he’d clearly see that it was her on the other side.

For a few agonizing moments she stood, waiting.  The neighbor who had slammed their door passed her by, giving her a curious look but kept walking.  She briefly wondered if he knew he lived on the same floor as potential rock legend.  The thought fled her mind when she heard the slide of a lock disengaging and the door in front of her slowly opened.

She could tell that Killian hadn’t been sleeping as soon as he stepped into view, there were dark purple shadows under his eyes that hadn’t shown up in his video.  His hair was even more of a disheveled mess than it had been in the video too, and longer.  He was wearing a pair of thin blue flannel lounge pants and a threadbare grey t-shirt with a rip at the collar and a faded Led Zeppelin logo.  She’d never seen a more heartbreakingly beautiful sight.

“How-”

“Regina mostly,” she rushed to explain.  It was way easier to tell him how she found him instead of why she had wanted to, “Robin helped with the doorman though.”

“They’re old friends,” he murmured absently.  His gaze darted all over her, as if he couldn’t quite believe she was there, “Tuck put in a good word for me with the board when I decided to move here after rehab.  Why are you here Emma?”

She winced, “Can we, um, go inside.  I really don’t want to do this out here.”

Something flared bright in Killian’s eyes as his mouth tightened.  She almost expected him to cross his arms and refuse.  Saying everything she needed to say out in the hallway would have been embarrassing and awkward as hell but she was prepared to do it.  In fact, she realized she would do almost anything to just get him to give her a chance.  He must have seen that in her own eyes as he gave her a terse nod, stepping back into the apartment and opening the door wider for her to pass through.

As she walked by him she resisted the urge to reach out and brush her fingers against the back of his hand or worse, stop completely to wrap her arms around him and never let him go.  Every ounce of courage she’d lacked before was suddenly filling her from root to tip.  She was still nervous as hell but she wasn’t about to destroy everything for once and for all by chickening out at the last second.  If things didn’t go the way she wanted it wouldn’t be because she decided that giving up was easier than fighting them.

Her steps slowed to a stop as she fully stepped into the spacious apartment.  One of the living room walls was floor to ceiling shelves filled with books, cds, and vinyls while the second had an impressive entertainment system with a giant tv that had a soccer game frozen on its screen.  There was a cozy looking couch and matching chair facing it that broke up the space between the living room and breakfast bar and the kitchen.  What really caught her eye was the view from the sliding glass doors behind a round dining table that opened to a small balcony.  It wasn’t full dark but the facade of the State House was already lit, its golden dome gleaming dimly.

“Nice view,” she muttered quietly.

“You were more excited by the one in Malibu,” Killian said flatly, startling her as he stepped up beside her.  He gave her a wry grin, “Bit jumpy there, Swan?  Don’t worry I won’t bite.”

She turned fully towards him and held his gaze, “I’m more nervous than worried.”

A muscle in his jaw ticked but he didn’t look away.  After a moment he gave a small sigh and moved toward the kitchen.

“I’d offer you a stiff drink but chamomile will have to do.”

He brushed past her, moving into the kitchen.  When she didn’t move he huffed and pointed to one of the high backed stools tucked under the breakfast bar.  She gave him a small smile and when he turned his back to her to open a cupboard she shook her head at her nervousness.  Silently admonishing herself she sat down and watched him move around the space, a defensive set to his shoulders as he gathered the things for their tea and set an electric kettle to boil.  Once there was nothing left for him to fiddle with he turned back to her, leaning casually against the far counter and crossing his arms over his chest.

“So it took you ten days to ask Regina where to find me?” He asked in that same flat voice.

Despite his attempt to sound indifferent she could hear the hurt in his words.  As much as she knew her answer would only serve to harm him more she couldn’t lie to him.  There was enough of that between them already.

“I called her as soon as I finished watching your video-” she dropped her gaze to where her hands were folded on the bartop, not quite strong enough to watch him react to her answer, “ten days ago.”

Her confession was met with silence.  She could hear the water in the kettle start to boil and the gentle hum of the refrigerator but that was it.  After a few seconds of quiet torture she steeled herself and looked up, needing to know exactly how pissed he was at her.  What she saw didn’t disappoint.

He hadn’t moved an inch, still leaning against the counter but there was nothing casual about it.  Every one of his muscles were tense, his fingers digging into his bicep with enough force to turn them white while his eyes were two chips of ice, cold enough to burn as he stared her down.  She was almost relieved at seeing the signs of his anger, anything was better than the indifference he’d been displaying before.  The kettle clicked off but he showed no sign of noticing aside from the slight tightening of his jaw.

As he glared at her she tried not to let her own frustration and anger flare up.  There were still so many things that they needed to talk about and any one of them could have him throwing her out of the apartment.  She wasn’t about to be meek or amenable but she sure as hell wasn’t about to keep poking the beast that she’d awakened.

“Honey?” He growled.

She blinked, “Wha- what?”

“In your tea-” he uncrossed his arms and gestured to the mugs beside him, “Honey?”

“Um, yeah, that’s fine.”

He gave her a terse nod and began fixing their tea.  With his back turned to her she took a deep, calming breath.  She was no longer nervous, his reaction had been pretty much what she’d expected and that part was over with.  Instead a hollow ache of longing had settled in her chest.  There was nothing she wanted more than to talk like they used to, open and without pretense but also with a bit of teasing and flirting thrown in for good measure.

Killian topped his mug off with a splash of milk before turning and handing hers over.  It was a white mug with a line drawing of a guitar and the words ‘I’m a kettle head’ written over it.  She couldn’t help her snort of laughter at the sight of it.

“Something funny, Swan?” He asked with a raised brow, his cup of tea halfway to his lips.

She spun the mug so the graphic faced him, “Gag gift or did you buy this yourself?”

He rolled his eyes and took a sip of his tea but she could see his ears turning red.  She let her own eyebrow tick up as he swallowed, shaking his head.

“Gift from a fan, actually.  I made mention in an interview years ago that I enjoyed a good cup of tea in the afternoon.  I’m still receiving packages of tea and its related wares on a steady basis-” he tipped his head towards her mug, “That was one of the more clever ones.”

Spinning it back so she could grasp it by the handle she hesitated.  The opening was clear for her to start the conversation that needed to be had.  She knew she should take advantage of it but he was no longer glaring at her and she wanted to bask in the small reprieve she’d found herself in.  To prolong the moment she took a sip of her tea, humming at the soothing warmth and delicate flavor that danced over her tongue.  The corner of Killian’s mouth ticked up and her heart skipped a beat at the sight.

“Not as good as my hot chocolate but it’ll do,” she teased.

Emma knew she’d pushed his patience to its breaking point a half second too late.  Killian’s smile flared for a second before he pressed his lips together in a thin line and turned his gaze away from her.  Her own small grin slipped and she berated herself for expecting too much too soon.  She waited, quiet and still, until he looked back at her.

“I’m sorry.”

His eyes widened and he let out a little huff of surprise but she barreled on, needing to get it all out.

“I’m sorry for so many things, waiting ten days to show up, not calling the second I finished watching your video, blocking your number so you couldn’t call me, fighting with you when I answered Ruby’s phone-”

“Swan-”

“I get that you’re mad at me.  Good, you should be.  I was terrible to you and I know it’s no excuse but I was hurt and you lied to me, but I still should have given you a chance to explain-” she gave a little hiccuping laugh, “God, if you’d done that to me and showed up at my house I would have slammed the door in your face and been done with it.  And you?  You invited me in for tea?  Why?”

Killian shook his head with a huff.  She could see his smile threatening to break loose again and the sight mystified her.  He saw her bewilderment and pushed off the counter behind him with his hip, setting his mug in front of hers and leaned into her space, gently taking her hand in his.

“Don’t you know, Emma?” He asked, painfully earnest. “You said you watched the video, so you must know.”

“You’re mad at me,” she pointed out, even as she gripped his hand.

He tilted his head, considering her, “I am but that doesn’t change how I feel.”

“I’m not sure how I feel,” she confessed in a whisper, “I know I hated not talking to you late at night or being near you almost constantly but…”

She trailed off, unsure how to proceed without stoking either of their tempers again.  Killian’s thumb ran over the back of her hand, encouraging her, and she reveled in the feeling.  He gave her an encouraging nod and she took a fortifying breath.

“You lied to me-” he winced and tried to pull his hand from hers but she held on fast, “You lied and if whatever this is between us is going to work I need to know why.  I promise to actually listen this time.”

He gave her a pained smile, “And if you don’t like what you hear?”

“I won’t know until you tell me,” she countered softly.

“Alright,” he said with a nod, one that seemed more for himself than for her. “Alright, but can you promise me one more thing?”

“Anything,” she agreed quickly.

“No interruptions.  I think it’ll do us both good to have it all out in one go.”

She used her free hand to mime that she was locking her lips and throwing away the key.  He gave her a small snort of a laugh, no longer looking pained or apprehensive, which had been her goal.  As she gently squeezed his hand in encouragement she really hoped she’d be able to keep her promise.

Killian blew out a harsh breath and began, “Are you familiar with Cora Hart?”

Her eyebrows shot up and she bit the inside of her cheek to keep her mouth shut.  Cora Hart was the agent of all agents.  Her firm was the one every struggling artist wished would represent them because every one of their clients was a superstar or on their way to being one.  To be one of her personal clients was like getting a golden ticket to everlasting fame, fortune, and the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.  However, it came with a price and Emma wasn’t entirely convinced that it wasn’t someone’s soul.  Plus Cora Hart was known by everyone in the industry as ‘that cold hearted bitch’.  It was an unpleasant surprise to hear her name coming from Killian’s lips.

“Yes, I can see that you are,” he sighed. “She’s my agent.”

She grimaced.  As much as she’d been prepared to hear it it still made her stomach drop.  There were only so many ways his story was going to go and she wasn’t sure she was entirely ready to hear it, but she would, because she promised.

“I’ve been with her since the beginning.  She found us playing at a small pub in Liverpool and snapped us up.  If it weren’t for her we’d probably still be playing pub gigs but only on weekends-” he gave her a wan smile that didn’t last long, “I owe a lot to that woman, not everything but enough to know not to question her decisions on where to take my career.  Even if I wanted to seek different representation she’s got me in an iron clad contract for at least three solo albums.”

“What?!”

She couldn’t help her outburst.  While it was normal for a record label to offer contracts like that, she’d signed one herself for that matter, she was pretty sure it wasn’t standard for an agent to do the same.  Then again she didn’t actually have an agent of her own.  Regina was an employee of her label and didn’t need a separate contract with her and seemed more than happy to take care of everything herself.  Emma thought that things had been working out alright, aside from the fiasco that had put her right where she found herself at that very moment.

“I have been bound by this contract for quite a while, Swan,” he said wryly. “Since even before the accident.”

“But that’s gotta be extortion or something, right?” She asked indignantly. “I mean, it’s been almost fifteen years!”

He gave her a warm look, “There are plenty of people who have been with their agents for much longer and I thought I said no interruptions, love.”

“Sorry,” she said sheepishly.

“Realm of Jewels made Cora a very rich woman and an equally hot commodity in the industry.�� I had already planned to do a few solo albums and signed with her because she was someone I already knew.  Back then I thought three albums was nothing, I had written material for at least six,” he said with a shrug. “After the accident and pulling myself out of the bottle she was gracious enough to allow me to do whatever I needed to do to get my life back on track.  Even if it meant nothing more than doing recording sessions for other artists’ work.  Of course, her patience could only be pushed so far and I’m sure I’d far exceeded the limit.  She started not so gently reminding me of my contractual obligations about a year ago.

“At the time I figured I could piecemeal something together from my old lyrics and maybe a cover or two to get an album together.  It wouldn’t have been great, fair to middling if anything, but it would have been enough to satisfy Cora for the time being.  I wasn’t excited by the prospect and in the meantime I was still being hired for session recordings.  One of which was for your album.”

Emma smiled and ducked her head.  He’d made it sound like it was some great honor instead of a few hours work on a couple of songs.  She didn’t even get to choose the musicians that got to record, that was all left up to the label, though she did get final say on how it sounded.  That didn’t mean to say she hadn’t gone back to listen to those backing tracks almost as much as the song he’d written for her.

“It was the day we were recording for Snowdrops and Buttercups that I first met Regina.  It just so happened to be the same day that Cora had come to the studio to once again remind me of my obligations.  What I wasn’t aware of was the fact that Cora is Regina’s mother-” Emma’s head shot up at that and he nodded, “Whatever you do try to avoid being in the same room as them, especially when business is involved.  I left the studio that day with my three album contract inexorably attached to the record label that Regina represented.  There was also the small inconvenience of a series of deadlines being imposed.  The first of which was having enough songs written to begin recording an album within six months.  When Ruby called about needing a replacement I had about two months left to put something recordable together.”

Emma bit her lip.  It was getting harder and harder to keep her comments and questions to herself.  Especially with the bomb he’d dropped about Regina and Cora.  She decided to take a sip of her tea instead.  Before her mug even made it to her lips Killian was grinning widely at her.

“Go ahead, love,” he said with a bow of his head.

She slammed her mug down, splashing tea over her hand.  With a hiss she shook off the droplets impatiently, ignoring Killian’s outstretched hand, not wanting to be deterred.

“Cora the heartless is Regina’s mother?!  And if you had only two months to write an entire album why the hell were you allowed to come on tour with me?  Is that why you had that lunch with Robin and Regina?  For the album?  Why didn’t you tell me all of this already?”

Killian’s expression immediately dropped into one of regret as she sat back, stunned at her directness.  She absentmindedly rubbed at the reddened spot on the back of her hand that the tea had spilled on.  The lingering pain was an excellent distraction from the tension that had sprung up between them.  With a click of his tongue Killian moved to the sink, wetting the corner of a dish rag.  When he turned back to her he paused and she gave him a nod, holding out her hand to him hoping he would see it as the olive branch she was offering.

“At first it didn’t seem as though it would be an issue,” he said quietly as he gently pressed the rag to her burn, “You only needed a temporary guitarist and as I mentioned earlier I had dozens of notebooks already filled with lyrics that would suffice.  Regina was the one who scheduled the meeting with Robin as soon as I was officially attached to the tour.  I believe her intention at the time was for me to hand over the completed songs and get the ball rolling as it were.  She, of course, had no idea that you and I would become what we did.”

“Did you, um, have any idea?” She asked hesitantly, dropping her gaze to where his hand was still holding the damp cloth to the back of hers.

He used his other hand to tip up her chin and looked her in the eye, “I’d hoped but I could never be quite sure how you felt.  Until Chicago.”

She wanted to confess that her hopes had started long before Chicago.  That he had somehow snuck past her defenses into her heart with his charm and unwavering support but she couldn’t.  He still hadn’t answered the question that mattered most to her.  With a sigh she pulled away from his gentle touch.

“I still don’t understand why you didn’t tell me any of this,” she said a bit sharper than she intended, her frustration and confusion bleeding into her tone. “We talked for hours on that damn bus.  I listened to you talk about how much better felt tip pens are than ball points three separate times!  Was it really so hard to say ‘by the way, Swan, I’ve signed with your manager and have to get an album written while we’re on the road’?”

He let out a heavy breath and ran a hand through his hair, “I didn’t want to upset you.”

“And look where that got you,” she said with a humorless chuckle waving her hand between them. “If you’d said something off the bat I would have been pissed at you for, like maybe a week, and I also wouldn’t have gotten my heart broken.”

Emma froze.  She hadn’t meant to make that confession, especially when she wasn’t even one hundred percent sure what it was she felt for him.  Killian seemed caught off guard too, as he stood staring at her with wide eyes and not appearing to breathe.  He blinked and closed the small distance between them but made no move to touch her.

“I’m glad to hear it,” he murmured.

“You’re glad to hear I got my heart broken?” Her voice cracked and she pulled as far back from him as she could.

“If it can be broken, it means it still works,” he said softly but she could hear the hope in his words all the same. “I know I hurt you immeasurably, love, and I’ve earned no right to a second chance but if you can see it in you to do so I’ll gladly spend the rest of my days earning your back your trust and, perhaps in time, your heart.”

“Killian…”

“Finish your tea, Swan,” he said with a tight smile though his eyes were sparkling with the same hope she’d heard, “Don’t want it to get cold.”

She stared down at the amber liquid and watched the curling tendrils of steam as though they’d give her some kind of sign of what to do.  They didn’t, of course, not that she really believed it would be that easy.  There were still so many questions she wanted to ask but only one really mattered.  Guarding herself against a final blow she looked up at him with determination.

“Were you ever going to tell me about any of it?  Or was it always your plan for me to find out from someone else?”

Killian jolted back, as though she’d slapped him.  He shook his head with a sigh before running a hand over his face.  When he caught her eye again the hope had been replaced with pain and a flash of the anger she’d thought was behind them.

“I’d intended to tell you everything the night of the interview over the dinner we were supposed to share at my home.  I suppose it was fortuitous that I’d listened to it or I would have sat with our meal laid out on the table, waiting for hours for your arrival.  As it was I had to endure one of Regina’s assistants traipsing through the house, gathering your items and ignoring my pleas to explain what the hell was going on.  Then, of course, there was to be no explanations forthcoming for nearly three days and absolute devastation once I’d received them.  But after all that my feelings for you never changed, not once.”

Emma sucked in a breath at that.  Even as he was justifiably dressing her down for what she’d done he was still playing it safe.  He’d never stated outright what he felt for her but she knew without a doubt what he wasn’t saying.  Funny thing was, his caution made her realize exactly what she felt for him with startling clarity.  She gave a little laugh that bordered on manic but she was helpless against the sudden euphoria she was feeling.

Killian glared at her, “I won’t have you laughing-”

“I love you.”

The words seemed to hang between them in the quiet kitchen like a line cast out to the unknown.  She could only hope that Killian would grasp onto them and tether her heart to his.  As the silence stretched out she found she only wished she had told him sooner instead of dragging out both their heartaches.  Shaking her head at her own stubborn foolishness she gave him a tremulous smile.

“I love you and I’m sorry.  I was trying so hard to protect myself from getting hurt again that I just hurt us both so much more instead.  I’m so tired of feeling like I tore a piece of my own heart out.  You said your feelings haven’t changed.  I want this.  I want us.  Do you?”

Instead of answering her with words Killian moved at a speed that surprised her.  Almost before she had finished the question he was standing in front of her, his arms bracketing her with his hands on the back of the chair and the counter.  His expression was deadly serious but his eyes were lit with joy as he leaned into her space.

“Swan, I want nothing more.”

Her smile was cut off by his lips pressing to hers.  She gasped as one of his hands delved into her hair while the other banded around her waist, his thumb stroking at the skin above the waistband of her jeans.  It was as if he was pouring every emotion into the kiss.  His passion, his elation, his fervor, and most of all his love.  With a moan she pulled him impossibly closer, hooking her ankles around the back of his legs to draw him in.

To her surprise he broke away, leaning his forehead against hers, breathing heavily, “There’s one last thing that needs to be said.”

“Now?” She panted, arching up slightly to nip at his lower lip. “Can’t it wait?”

“Not really,” he groaned.  He kissed the corner of her mouth, then her cheek, sliding his mouth to her ear where he quietly sang to her, “But I wouldn't trade a day for the chance to say, My love, I'm in love with you.”

Tears welled in her eyes as he pulled back, looking at her as though she was the best thing that had ever happened to him.  He gently brushed away the few tears that had fallen with a finger, following closely behind with soft kisses that travelled across her cheeks, leaving her wanting more.  By the time he moved to her mouth the heat between them had returned but she leaned back before he could press more than one delicate kiss to her lips.

“Emma,” he growled, his hand flexing on the back of her neck, his eyes hot.

“You know, you never gave me a tour of the place-” she gave him a teasing smile and gave an exaggerated look around, “I bet there’s all sorts of interesting rooms.”

He caught on quickly, his smile unfurling into something wicked, “Indeed there are, my love.  Shall we begin with the bedroom?”

He didn’t give her the chance to answer as he swiftly pulled her up from her chair and tugged her quickly down the hallway.

Much, much later Emma was seated back at the breakfast bar in nothing but her underwear and Killian’s Led Zeppelin shirt.  Her feet were perched in Killian’s lap, which was covered by dark blue boxer briefs that he’d only pulled on when the pizza they’d ordered had arrived.  She tried to smother a giddy grin behind her crust but he caught sight of it and raised a brow at her.

“Something you’d like to share, Swan?”

“I’m just-” she gave a little shrug, “happy.  I guess I’m still trying to process it.”

“I know what you mean, love,” he agreed, his hand dropping to her ankle to give it a squeeze. “If someone had told me yesterday that we would be here tonight, like this, I wouldn’t have believed them.  Now, if they’d predicted us reconciling by the end of the week I wouldn’t have questioned it.”

“No?” She asked, humming in pleasure at the confidence in his voice.

“You’re not the only one who can wheedle an address out of Regina,” he said with a wink.  Then he grew serious, “If I hadn’t heard from you by the end of the week I was planning on driving up to Maine to plead my case.”

“I’m surprised she gave it to you,” she mumbled around a bite of her crust. “She was all worried about you breaching your contract because of deadlines two weeks ago.  A side trip to Maine would definitely eat into your studio time or something.”

“Oh-” Killian scratched behind his ear and then said offhandedly, “I’ve, er, been in breach of my contract since I posted that video, love.”

Her last bite fell from her fingers as she gaped at him.  A flush was rising along the back of his neck and he gave her a sheepish smile.

“What?”

“Well, according to some of the very fine print in it I was forbidden from releasing any music by means other than through the label-” he shrugged and waved a hand as though dismissing the seriousness of the situation, “My lawyer assures me that at most I’ll only have to pay a minimal fine.”

“Pay a…” she brought her palms to her temples, “Killian that’s still going to be thousands of dollars.”

“I would have posted a hundred unsanctioned songs and paid every cent I have to my name just to get you to talk to me again,” he said matter of factly.  He leaned over and plucked the piece of crust from her lap, tossing it into the open pizza box before fixing her gaze with his, “And it would have been worth it.  You are worth everything.”

She dropped her hands with a huff, “Stop being romantic when I’m worrying about you.”

“Never,” he said with a wide grin that made his eyes crinkle. “And you don’t need to worry about me, Swan, I’m a survivor.”

“I love you,” she said with a shrug, “I’ll always worry about you.”

His grin mellowed into something that made her feel warm and cherished.  He leaned over and grasped her stool, dragging it towards him until the already small distance between them was narrowed so only a puff of air could pass through.  She gave a wayward thought to the state of his floors at the abuse they suffered but it vanished as his hand came up to cup her jaw, his thumb drawing a delicate arc across her cheekbone.

“I love you too,” he murmured just above a whisper, his eyes intent on hers, “I always will.”

Her happy sigh was swallowed by his lips on hers.  The kiss was far more gentle than any of the others they had shared, even the ones from before their separation.  With a slight thrill she realized that they would have hundreds, even thousands, more kisses of all sorts in the years to come.  As they parted she couldn’t help her giddy smile at the thought.

Killian raised his brow at her, his gaze teasing, “Already, Swan?  We’ve only just surfaced.”

“What?  No!” She laughed, pushing him back, “I mean, yeah but not like that.  I was thinking about us kissing but years from now kind of kisses.”

“Years from now,” he repeated in awe.  He leaned back towards her, “I like the sound of that.”

“Me too,” she sighed.  Then she crinkled her nose at him, “Even if I do end up supporting you because you have to keep paying fines since you’re a big YouTube star now.  I know how you guys gotta keep posting content.”

“Har, har, love.  Just so you know, Cora has already spun this in my favor,” he said smugly. “She’s convinced the label that it’s the perfect way to garner attention for my forthcoming album.  Which is why I’ll only be paying a minimal fine instead of what it easily could have been.”

Emma sat back, “So you’re still going to do it?  Record the album?”

“Not exactly, no,” he said with a crooked smile, “The songs I was planning on recording before are, quite honestly, rubbish.  I’ve had a wellspring of inspiration these past few weeks.  Robin is quite pleased with them as a matter of fact and he’s not hold back over the years when something of mine is only worthy of a bin.  I’ll be heading to the studio once the whole contract debacle is taken care of.  That is, of course, only if you agree.”

“Agree to what?” She asked, confused.

“The songs, my love-” he dropped his eyes for a moment and when he looked back up his gaze was wary, “You, us, what we’ve been through?  Well… you know.”

And she did.  She’d written dozens of songs about the man who’d left her in jail and pregnant and just as many about her lonely childhood in foster care.  There was more than one notebook filled with longing ballads about the son she’d never even held.  Hell, the notebook in her purse was pages of scribbles and half formed lyrics about Killian and their time together.  So she knew exactly what he was getting at.  She also had one niggling thought about it.

“Yeah, I do,” she said with a slow nod.  Reaching towards him she took his hand between hers, “I think you should record the songs you’ve written, even the ones that I know don’t paint me in the best light, but I do have one request.”

“Anything,” he breathed, his hand flexing in hers.

“I don’t want to hear any of them until the final mix-” she let go of his hand to cover his mouth as he tried to protest, “No, hear me out first.  I’m sure the songs are good, great even since Robin is excited about them, and that’s exactly why I want to wait to hear them.  I know how much work goes into making an album and thanks to Ruby you know exactly how big a fan I am of your music.  I just- I think I want to have that giddy moment listening to your first big solo album as the finished thing.”

Killian tugged her hand away from his lips and gave her a wry grin, “So you want to enjoy the sausage without seeing all the unappetizing steps of how it gets made?”

“Uh, weird analogy but yeah,” she said, relieved that it hadn’t caused another fight, “I wouldn’t mind seeing the pigs before slaughter though.”

“So you’ll berate me for the initial analogy but then proceed to take it to a much darker place.  I see how your mind works, Swan,” Killian said with narrowed eyes and a look of mock sternness.

“I work with what I’m given,” she said with a shrug.

Killian huffed out a laugh before he grew serious, taking the hand that was still in his and placing them both over his heart, “You can look at every song I’ve ever written, love.  Even the shit ones from primary school.”

She gave him a smile she knew was giddy, “Oh, I definitely want to look at those but I think for now I’ll stick to your most recent ones.”

“Wise decision,” he murmured,half rising from his stool, “Shall I go get them now?”

“No, it’s late, I can look at them tomorrow-” she flexed her fingers on his chest and when he looked back at her she tried to let him see every ounce of love she was feeling, “I’m not going anywhere.”

His smile unfurled slowly but adoration and love was bright in his eyes, “Good.”