#along with any text you might decide to add

[thatmoththoth]

Fed Up.

Without shading + reference image:

[bad268]

hey! hope you are well. I was thinking of an idea for a Kimi Antonelli x reader story and as you write for him the best I knew you would write it so well.

maybe reader is toto's daughter, and her and kimi are in a relationship. but y/n can't make it to the last race of the season but she ends up surprising him after the race (she was there the whole time) and he runs to her and its all adorable and everyone is clapping?

just a thought!

love your work!

Couldn't Keep Me Away (Andrea Kimi Antonelli X Wolff! Reader)

Fandom: RPF/F2/F3

Requested: Clearly (I think I cooked too much with this lol...)

Warnings: sick! reader, mentions cough medicine

POV: Second Person (You/your/She/her)

W.C. 1956

Summary: She's never missed a race…until now?

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(@/Kimi’s insta from February 13, 2024)

It all came down to this. Not in the literal sense, more along the lines of it was the last race of the season. The team’s champions and driver’s championship had already been decided, so there was nothing to lose in this race. Well, except his sanity.

You had been at every race this season. Not because of your father, Toto Wolff. Actually, maybe that played a part, but you were always in the Prema garage. He could not remember what it was like to not have you in the garage between practice and qualifying or during pre-race shenanigans. 

When you were not on track for media day, he knew something was up. Yes, he knew you hated media day because it was boring, but it was also the day you had the most time together since the F1 teams and drivers were more popular interviewees. He tried texting and calling you only to receive nothing in response. He knew what he was going to have to do.

Speak to your father. 

He decided to stop by before the sprint race. Walking into the Mercedes garage, he spotted your father immediately and standing beside him, your mother, Susie, and brother, Jack. He suddenly knew that you should have been here too. The only reason you gave him in the past for why you may need to miss a race was to watch your brother. You never did miss a race, but there was always the possibility.

He swallowed his concern, not needing to worry yet, as he walked up to your family. He waited for them to finish their conversation before he tapped on Toto’s shoulder. Immediately, Toto turned around to meet Kimi’s worried eyes.

“Kimi, is there something wrong?” Toto asked, sensing Kimi’s anxiousness, but chalking it up to the upcoming race. “Is it the race?”

“No…I mean, kind of?” Kimi answered but immediately contradicted himself. It was much more different talking to Toto about you than about racing. Despite knowing that both of your parents are aware of your relationship, he tried his best to only talk to Toto about racing whenever they were on the track. This was a first for Kimi, and he just did not know how he wanted to go about asking. Finally, after receiving multiple uneasy looks from Susie and Toto, Kimi took a deep breath before just deciding to go for it. “Do you know where she is? She’s not answering my texts or calls, and I’m getting worried.”

“Oh, Kimi, she’s sick,” Susie jumped in. She knew exactly who he wanted to know about, so she showed him a text from you that said you took some medicine and would try to sleep it off. “She’s been sick almost all week. I thought she told you.”

“Oh, have she sent any updates recently? Do you know how she’s feeling?” Kimi rushed. Looking back, he realized that every time he texted you, it would have been late back at home, so it made sense that you did not respond. Plus, to add the sickness on top of it? He felt like shit for not catching it earlier.

“That was the last text I received,” Susie said, sadly. Toto stepped away as he got a call, leaving Kimi and Susie to talk while Jack was distracted by Mick. “It was sent a few hours ago, so she might be awake now. You could call her?”

“No need,” Toto said as he walked back over, holding out the phone to Kimi. “Someone wants to talk to you.”

Hesitantly, Kimi took the phone and saw your name as the caller ID. He looked back up at Toto and Susie as they turned their backs to him and walked toward the pit wall to give him a little privacy. Immediately, Kimi raised the phone to his ear, “Amore (love)? How are you feeling? I heard you were sick. Are you staying hydrated?”

He gets cut off hearing you giggle lightly before descending into a light coughing fit. He smiled lightly for a second before growing concerned once again when he heard you cough. “Slow down, liebe (love). I am feeling better, just a few coughs here and there.”

“That didn’t sound like ‘a few coughs here and there,’” He mocked lightheartedly but in all seriousness. 

“That’s because you triggered it,” you laughed again. This time, able to hold back the coughs, just needing to clear your throat before you talk again. “I promise, I’m doing better. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“As long as you’re feeling better,” He sighed, knowing you’re alright now. Off to the side, he sees his race engineer looking for him, so he realizes that he needs to wrap up the call with you to race. “Keep resting, amore. I have to go race now, but I’ll call you after, I promise.”

“I’ll be watching, liebe,” you smiled to yourself, and Kimi could hear it too. “Good luck, Kimi. Give the phone back to my dad, please?”

With that, he walked up to Toto again to hand him the phone before disappearing with his engineer. Toto raised the phone, chuckling lightly at Kimi’s rush as he greeted his daughter. 

“Can I be on the first flight out? I feel better.”

~~

Kimi had a horrible sprint race. He was already starting in 10th because he was on pole for the feature race, but he became collateral damage in a fight between a couple of cars further back. It was the last lap too! They were all outside the points, so there really was no point in racing that hard. However, that’s what happened. 

He did his best to hide his disappointment as he walked past the engineers to the driver’s room he shared with Ollie, who was already there because of a tire blowout from one of the earlier laps. Kimi started changing out of his race suit and into his normal clothes, just wanting to sleep the race off. 

“Your phone went off a few minutes ago,” Ollie said, breaking the silence and catching Kimi’s attention as he threw a Mercedes shirt over his head. “And don’t blame yourself. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Plus, it’s not like this race mattered. You already won the championship, we won the team championship, and you have a seat for next year.”

“Thanks, Ollie, but that’s not the point,” Was he lying? Partly, but there was some truth. He was upset at the race result, but he was also still slightly bummed that you were not there. Thinking of you, he wanted to call you.

Kimi looked through his bag for his phone, finding it with no problems. He noticed the number of notifications, but the only one that mattered to him was the one from you. It was a few minutes prior and it read, “I’m so sorry liebe! That crash was nasty, I hope you’re okay. I just took more medicine, so I might be asleep by the time you finish post-race media. I’ll call you when I wake up. Ich liebe dich (I love you).”

He sent a quick response, telling you he was alright and he loved you. Then, he went about the rest of his day. And the rest of his night. And the next morning. At that point, he started getting nervous again since you were not responding again. What kind of medicine were you taking that knocked you out for 12 hours, he thought. 

He wanted to go back to your parents again, but the feature race prep was different compared to the sprint. He did not have the same break he did with the sprint. Ever since he got to the track, he was warming up and prepping for the final race. He was nervous given the result the day before. He did not want to end the season on a double DNF, especially when he was going to get an F1 seat the following season in a Mercedes. He had to score well in the race.

If he had found a way to get to the Mercedes garage, he would have seen you sitting with your brother while your parents had a last-minute meeting. And if Kimi had been in any other starting position, he would have seen you walk into the Prema garage with Jack. Pole position was different though because they needed to do more interviews and promo pictures. If Kimi could have seen around his car from his grid box, he would have seen you sitting on the pit wall.

The race started without a hitch, Kimi was back in his groove, and it was clear to see that he was confident in his moves again. Sure, he was not fighting anyone for position, but there were a couple of times when he had to defend. He did so perfectly, and it made people wonder if the sprint race was just a one-off day for him. It was all worth it when he crossed the finish line first again.

The team immediately ran to Parc Ferme to wait for the cars as they scored a Prema 1-2. Kimi pulled into the first spot, Ollie into the second, and Victor in the third. Ollie and Victor jumped out of their cars immediately, running to their teams, but Kimi took a minute. This win should have felt good, especially after the disaster that was the sprint race, but it didn’t.

It was fun to win, but he was going to have to jump out of the car and celebrate with his team. Just his team. This is the first race you were not going to be there celebrating with him, and he would rather delay the inevitable. 

You could feel his hesitance to get out of the car, so you handed Jack over to your parents as you pulled up your mask and pushed through the people to get to the gate. You got there relatively easily considering you went through the Prema team, and they knew you would be the first person he’d want to see.

Kimi finally climbed out and stood on top of his car, posing for the camera momentarily. Then, his attention shifted to his team, and he froze. You were there! He’d recognize those eyes anywhere! Of course, you made it. He jumped off of the car and flung himself over the barrier to wrap you in his arms.

“You made it. I can’t believe you made it,” He whispered over and over, not even bothering to question if you could hear him through his helmet. That’s when he remembered, so he pulled back to take his helmet and balaclava off as well as his gloves. He put the back of his hand against your forehead to check your temperature, causing you to laugh. “Don’t laugh at me! I’m seeing if you’ve got a fever.”

“I’m all good, my fever broke yesterday,” You consoled as you pulled his hand off of your forehead to hold it as you kissed his cheek through your mask. “I’m all good. The mask is just a precaution.”

“Screw precaution, I wanna kiss you,” Kimi whined as he pulled the mask down to give you a long kiss. Despite not actually hearing it, the team all started clapping and F1 TV definitely got a good shot of you two. When he pulled away, he put the mask back on for you as he leaned his head against yours. “I still can’t believe you’re here.”

“You couldn’t keep me away even if you tried,” You whispered back, leaning up to bump your nose against his, “I’ll always find a way to be here for you.”

~~~~~

© BAD268 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[springtyme]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐫𝐭 𝐎𝐟 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐌𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ♡

Derek Morgan x reader || Main Masterlist || Spotify

summary: It was not your plan to dump into a tall, handsome FBI agent, but sometimes you get lucky.

word count: 666

𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞: 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟔) 𝐌𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐂𝐮𝐭𝐞

It is a typical Tuesday morning at your favorite coffee shop, a cozy little place where the rich aroma of roasted coffee beans mingles with the sound of clinking mugs and soft chatter. The morning crowd buzzes, and you are nestled in your favorite corner, sketchbook open, pencil flying across the pages as you capture the vibrant energy around you.

You are so engrossed in your work that you don’t notice when the line for coffee snakes its way closer to your table. Your concentration breaks when the barista calls out a name, you stand up, but you didn’t really hear what was called and you are unsure whether it was yours or someone else’s. You look up, slightly confused, just in time to see a tall man brushing past you, his shoulder barely grazing yours.

“Sorry about that,” he says, his voice deep and warm. 

You glance up to look him in the eyes and your pencil pauses mid-air, he is muscular with a charming smile and warm brown eyes. He wears a leather jacket that hugs his athletic frame, and you can tell he is someone who knows how to take charge of any situation.

“No problem at all,” you manage to say, trying to keep your composure. “I get lost in my own world too.”

The man chuckles as he leans over your sketches, an appreciative glint in his eye. “Wow, you’re really talented. Is this coffee shop your studio?”

“Something like that,” you reply, your cheeks warming at the compliment. “It’s a great place to people-watch,” you say, gesturing to the rest of the coffee shop.

He glances around the bustling coffee shop, a glint of mischief in his eyes as he returns his gaze to you, smirking, a spark of interest flickering in his eyes. “People-watching is an underrated art form.”

“Sure is, I like capturing the small moments… It’s nice.”

He glances around, then back at you with a smirk. “You might be capturing my moment, then. I was just getting coffee to gear up for what could be a long day at the office.”

“Office?” you ask, intrigued.

“Yeah, FBI,” he says casually, as if it is just another job.

Your eyes widen in surprise, thoughts racing. “Like, really? You must have some incredible stories to tell then.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” he says, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “But I can’t share those. Privacy and all that, you know?” He winks, making your heart skip a beat.

Before you can respond, the barista calls out his name: ‘Derek’. It suits him, you think. He sighs dramatically, turning to grab his coffee. “Guess I’ll have to keep some of my secrets, but I think I’m able to tell a few… Perhaps you can exchange  stories with me sometime?”

His boldness catches you off-guard. “Sure, if you promise to tell me one of yours, I’m telling one of mine.”

As you exchange smiles, something shifts in the air between you. You jot down your number on a napkin, along with your name, handing it to him as he reaches for his drink.

With the warmth of your touch lingering on the napkin, Derek looks at you, a confident grin plastered on his face. “I’ll take that as a challenge. Coffee soon? Or maybe a drink?”

“I’d love a drink,” you reply, heart racing in anticipation, feeling a secret thrill at how easily the conversation flows between you.

Derek jots down a quick line on his own napkin before handing it back to you. “Text me when you want to meet up.”

With that, he turns to leave, but not before glancing back over his shoulder, that captivating smile promising an adventure that lies ahead.

As the door chimes behind him, you can’t help but feel that maybe, just maybe, fate has decided to add a dash of excitement to your routine. You smile to yourself as the barista calls out your name and you turn to get your coffee.

[kcrossvine-art]

Hiiii friendssss! What the FUCK is up. What the fuck is up. What the Fuck is up. On todays cute little cookin excursion we are going to be deep frying things and using a wok. If you dont feel comfortable deep frying, and dont have a wok, im sure theres other ways to do it silly :DDD

I believe in you.

From LotR online we're gonna be making Fried Beetroot Sticks!! 

(As always you can find the cooking instructions and full ingredient list under the break-)

MY NAMES CROSS NOW LETS COOK LIKE ANIMALS

SO, “what goes into Fried Beetroot Sticks?” YOU MIGHT ASKSlices of sweet little beated root dipped into a batter with, watch out, special flavors too.

2 Beetroots

Corn flour

Salt 

Red Chilli Powder

Garlic Paste

Baking Soda

Water

Peanut oil

And we'll also be making some horseradish sour cream dip to go along with it;

Sour cream

Prepared horseradish

1 Green onion 

Few splashes of lemon juice

Salt to taste

Ground pepper to taste

"Cooked, tender beetroot sticks are dredged in a light batter and fried to give a crispy exterior and a soft, sweet interior. Served with a bracing horseradish sour cream, this snack is both filling and delicious."- LotRO Tooltip

AND, “what does Fried Beetroot Sticks taste like?” YOU MIGHT ASKThis is like homemade fair-food and it sounds like a contradiction but its not

But maybe its just because its fried food? American brained, sorry.

Retains the inherit sweetness to beetroot

And similar to pickled beetroot the sweetness contrasts the spicey of the batter

(which i encourage you to amp up if youd like more spice)

The horseradish sourcream dip is to die for

Measure with your heart for that one, and save some green onion to top it with when you serve

This would pair very well with a lime italian soda or with shaved ice cones

Im always very anxious about deep-frying things, or working with oils at high temperatures, but i didnt run into any complications with this dish. Just make sure to keep best practices and safety precaution in mind, especially with a wok as it can tilt!

. If you dont have corn flour, you can substitute all-purpose flour . If you dont have peanut oil, look up oils with the same smokepoint to decide what else to use

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

The recipe stuck out to me, as i was assembling a list of foodstuffs from tolkiens work, for being such a "regular" named food. Also its worth 19 silver 69 copper in the LotR MMO and im immature.

I think the dip has the most room for improvement and tinkering. I've never made horseradish sourcream before, so more practiced tastebuds could perfect a simple thing like this. In the future id also like to try adding red pepper flakes along with the the powder and garlic paste, to give more visual variety and spice. I think cumin in the batter would be a nice midtone flavor too.

I give this recipe a solid 8/10 (with 1 being food that makes one physically sick and 10 being food that gives one a lust for life again.) for its relative simplicity and modularity with things you could add.

🐁 ORIGINAL RESIPPY TEXT BELOW 🐁

Beetroot Sticks Ingredients:

2 Beetroots

130 grams corn flour

1 tbsp salt 

1 tsp Red Chilli Powder

1 tsp Garlic Paste

1/4 tsp Baking Soda

178 grams Water

432 grams peanut oil

Horseradish Sour Cream Ingredients:

225 grams Sour cream

200 grams Prepared horseradish

1 whole green onion (green and white parts VERY finely chopped)

1 tspn lemon juice

Salt to taste

ground pepper to taste

Beetroot Method:

Peel all beetroots and cut them length-wise into  rectangles.

Combine flour, salt, chilli powder, garlic paste, baking soda, and water in a bowl.

Mix well into a smooth batter.

Heat peanut oil to medium in a wok and dip beet roots into batter. Deep fry until golden brown in color.

Stack beetroots on paper-towel lined plates to cool and dry as you go.

Serve with horseradish sour cream!

Dip Method:

Mix all ingredients

Cover and let stand at room temperature for 1 hour for the flavors to blend.

[oneirataxia-haechan]

They find out they weren't your original bias

Boynextdoor maknae line x reader (established relationship) (taesan and woonhak's might be long sorry) ultimate masterlist hyung line

Taesan

gets kind of annoyed when Jaehyun tells him you biased Leehan first.

laughs in his face.

thinks he is 1000% pranking him.

chooses not to believe Jaehyun and live blissfully unaware.

will raise an eyebrow at you when you mention Leehan's talents or looks.

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

You and the boys decided to make a shared playlist that everyone adds songs of their choice to. This way when all of you are hanging out theres an easy way to decide on music choice. While playing a board game with the boys one day a song, new to the playlist, started playing. You began singing along. 

“I love this song! Who added this?” Expecting Taesan to fess up, your attention was grabbed from in front of you, rather than next to you, where your boyfriend resided. As you looked at who began to speak, it happened to be Leehan.

“This is one of my new favorite songs actually, I didn’t know you liked it as well.” He said with a sweet smile.

“I knew you had great taste in fish, but I didn’t know you had such similar and great taste in music.” You flashed a big smile at him as you moved your game piece on the board. Taesan raised an eyebrow as you said this, not noticing his furrowed expression. He was a little jealous knowing that song was one of your favorites, but not being the one to add it. Although you missed it, Jaehyun noticed Taesan's eyebrows, making him giggle. Everyone thought he was giggling at what you said but Taesan knew he had been caught by him. You were a little confused as to why he laughed but brushed it off. 

Around half an hour later all of you were just sitting around and talking. Taesan finally felt this was a good time to pull you aside. You were a little worried you had missed something, but it’s not the first time he’s pulled you aside while the boys were around. 

“Tae?” You looked at him as he looked at the ground. Seeming as if he was trying to write out the right sentence in his mind. 

“Dongmin.” You said sharp but sweetly. His head shot up, meetig your gaze. He sighed and began.

“Was Leehan your original bias?” As you were about to answer he cut you off and started to ramble a bit.

“It doesn’t bother me but Jaehyun told me and I just want to know if it’s true or if he was pranking me but it doesn’t bother me at all I understand. I was going to ignore it but when you complimented him actually no when you complimented his music taste specifically, that’s what bothered me. But it doesn’t bother me I just-“

“Minnie breathe.” You whispered, as you put your hand over his mouth, knowing he would’ve kept going if you didn’t. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Then he opened them as you took your hand off of his face, staring into your eyes. 

“Sorry.” He whispered, still keeping eye contact. You sighed.

“No, Jaehyun wasn’t pranking you but it’s nothing. He found some old old texts between my friend and I from when I first became a onedoor.” He nodded in response. 

“I originally did bias Leehan but I never told you because I didn’t see it as important. I eventually met you and you were all that was on my mind.” He smiled widely which turned into a smirk.

“Ah my rizz worked. Not surprised. Good thing I didn’t care anyways.” You lifted his hand up to your mouth, placing a delicate kiss. 

“Sure Dongmin, sure.”

Leehan

most nonchalant about it about it.

doesn’t get jealous. he think’s it cute that you biased his room mate at first.

teases you about it occasionally. especially when they are having a comeback.

you still have no idea how he found out, not like it was a secret or anything. but how?

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

You were cooking dinner for you and your boyfriend. Leehan was doing his usual like any other day, watching his fish and talking to himself. He loved to keep his fish, and you, company while you cooked. You only really heard 75% of what he mumbled about, but if it was important he made sure he got your attention first. He went through so many random topics and thoughts while watching them swim around. Ocassionily he would glance over at you to check on you as well. 

“Y/n is so cute.” He would occasionally bring you up, not talking directly to you though. He continued his thought and what he said sent alarms off in your head.

“Y/n’s bias used to be Riwoo hyung. I can’t blame Y/n though, I love him too.” Raising an eyebrow at this comment you spun around, meeting Leehan’s gaze.

“Where’d you hear that from, hm?” You scoffed.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” He joked with a smirk plastered on his face.

Woonhak

laughs it off when Taesan tells him he overheard you talking about biasing him first instead of Woonhak. 

gets a strong ping of jealousy in his heart and tries to hide his pout as Taesan goes back to what he was origianlly doing.

will ask you indirectly until you catch on and explain.

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

“Sweetie, what’s the pout for?” You asked gently, sitting down next to Woonhak. He thought for a few seconds and you put your hand in his, rubbing circles on the back of his hand, with your thumb.

“How long were you a onedoor before we met?” He asked, not looking at you.

“Around 7 or 8 months I believe, why?” You said, raising a brow. 

“Who did you notice first? Be honest.” As he finished asking you stopped your circular motions.

“Woonie… Why are you asking me this?” He took his hand out of your grip, not satisfied with your continuing questions. He began to repeat his question but you cut him off before he could finish.

“Kim Woonhak. I’m not going to answer another one of your questions until you tell me what’s going on and why you’re upset.” You just wanted him to stop pouting and actually talk to you. He took a deep breath, looking into your eyes. Not a great sign for you because as soon as your eyes met his, you folded. 

“Okay fine I’ll be honest but then you have to explain what’s going on.” He nodded in agreement, his pout fading into a curious yet focused expression, as you began.

“The first person I noticed was you. Honestly.” His pout returned as he looked away. You put your hand on his thigh, reassuring him yet begging for an explination.

“Taesan said he overheard you talking about how he was your original bias, not me.” He said, crossing his arms, looking in your direction to try and read your body language. 

“Woon-“Cutting you off, he then questioned, “Why didn’t you tell me that?”

You scoffed a little, “You never asked me who my original bias was, sweetie.” His cheeks grew pink in color realizing you were right. He hid his face in his hands, feeling embarrassed about not only his child like behavior, but especially embarrassed about his jealousy. He isn’t usually so jealous over silly things like this, but today was different. You lightly moved his hands off his face and settled them inbetween you both, interlocking your fingers with his.

“You were the first person I noticed, yes, but Taesan ended up as my bias. I’m not in love with him or anything like that just who I seemed to like most. You were always my bias wrecker.” He tried to inturrupt you but you cut him off, continuing your thought.

“Until I became yours and the boys' friend. Once I met you I changed my bias. That’s why when you guys eventually asked about the topic, of course you were my answer.” Sitting up with excitment and blushing a shade of almost red now.

“Taesan heard correctly but that doesn’t matter. I don’t pinch Taesan’s cheeks.” You said while smiling and pinching Woonhak’s cheek.

“I don’t kiss Taesan.” Placing kisses around his face. “And I definitley don’t do this to Taesan.” You stated, getting louder toward the end of the sentence. You leaned into him and began tickling him. Your mixed laughter could be heard by the other boys, causing smiles and giggles from them.

hyung line here

[beomcharms]

perfunctory

pairings: yeonjun x reader

wc: 0.7k

genre: angst, lovers to exes

warnings: angst and loads of it

a/n: just a quick little fic as i work on my beomgyu fic. this might have a second much longer part featuring beomgyu. i hope yall like it cause i barely write any angst

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

You huff out in frustration when Yeonjun doesn’t pick up on the third call. You were waiting at your favourite restaurant all dressed up and on the verge of tears. It’s been nearly an hour and Yeonjun still hasn’t shown up. The waiter kept glancing over at you with a sad expression that made you wish the ground swallowed you whole.

Trying to ground yourself, you open your phone to text him again. You had sent over ten messages and they were all on delivered. Your heart breaks a little and you try your best not to burst down crying. Slowly you get up from your seat, collecting your purse and walk out of the restaurant.

-/-

You head over to his apartment. The fear that something had happened to him plagued your thoughts and you hurried along. Climbing up the stairs two at a time with your heels you’re nearly seeing stars by the time you reach his floor.

You’re about to knock on the door when you notice that it’s already open. You hear Beomgyu’s voice from within which makes you pause.

“You’re so mean hyung” Beomgyu’s muffled voice reaches you and you lean in a little closer to hear him better.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about” Yeonjun answers, “She doesn’t ever take the hint Gyu, it’s so fucking frustrating”

You stay rooted to your spot, holding your breath. Surely this is not about you?

“Atleast let her know that you don’t want to continue this relationship instead of just ghosting her like this” Soobin adds

“That’s what. I never wanted a relationship. It was her. I don’t know how we even ended up like this. This was meant to be casual but man she acts like it’s forever” Yeonjun sighs.

You stand there, not knowing what to do. Panic starts rising in you and you cover your mouth to somehow anchor yourself.

“Don’t get me wrong. I liked her. But she is not exactly what a guy like me is looking for. A little too nerdy” your boyfriend adds. “Wonder why she keeps calling me…” his voice trails along

“I don’t know, I liked her homey vibe” Beomgyu tells voice so low that you have to press against the door to hear him.

“Reminded me of my grandma” Soobin adds and you hear the others laugh, including Yeonjun.

You push away from the door. Heart and mind going thousand miles an hour you don’t know what exactly to do. Half of you wants to scream at the lot of them. Hurt them back exactly as how they’ve hurt you and the other half of you wishes to die of embarrassment.

When Yeonjun had first sat down next to you, you had felt giddy with excitement. He was after all what every girl wanted. And while you acted like he didn’t affect you, you couldn’t help but be attracted to him. When he started showing interest in you, your heart had warned you to be wary, but you didn’t listen. He was into you the same way you were into him. Or atleast that’s what you thought.

Initially it was fun. He was fun. Going above and beyond for you, making you feel like the most special person ever, you fell deeper for him. But then something shifted. It was like one day he suddenly decided you were not worth his energy anymore. But you being the fool you were believed his excuses of being too tired to hang out, being too busy. You pretended to not see his hints that he was tired of the relationship. Tired of you. You adjusted around his schedule so much that you no longer felt like a girlfriend but a burden.

But today was different. It was your six month anniversary and Yeonjun was the one who had popped up the plan, which took you by surprise because he had stopped putting in any effort a long while ago. Maybe this had been another one of his plans to finally get you to breakup with him.

You felt like a clown, in your dress and makeup. Standing outside of his apartment while he and his friends laughed at you. Wiping away your tears you pick up your purse which you had dropped.

The door opens as you get up and you look upto see Beomgyu standing there, eyes wide. You look at him both embarrassment and anger coursing through you. He stares at you, mouth in a comical “O”.

Without another word you walk away from him. Distantly you hear Beomgyu shout “HYUNG!”.

You hang your head down low.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

🎧i hope you all liked reading this fic, if you did please leave a comment, reblog or like, it helps me out a lot and consider giving my other works a read xoxo🎧

[sydsaint]

Make fun of my big forehead man ONE MORE TIME!!!

Summary: With Rhea gone, TJD start to fall apart at the seams. Tired of taking Damian's abuse, JD decides that it's time for the Irish Ace to make his return to singles action. But JD isn't about to leave without his favorite girl.

"Crap." You grumble to yourself in the hotel room as you sift through your suitcase for your Judgement Day shirt. "Come on!" You grit your teeth. "It's got to be in here somewhere."

Across the room, JD finishes throwing his ring gear into his gym bag. He notices the distressed look on your face, so he walks over to you to ask what's got you looking so upset for.

"YN, love. What's got you all worked up?" JD asks you.

"I can't find my damned shirt!" You curse the air and shove your suitcase away from you.

You let out a frustrated sigh and run a hand through your hair.

"Alright, no need to take it out on the suitcase." JD chuckles to lighten the mood. "What's so special about this shirt you're looking for, anyway?" He asks you. "You know that you look good in pretty much anything, YN."

"Ugh, that's not the point!" You whine. "Damian has been up my ass about wearing Judgment Day merch to Raw." You explain. "I swear I packed the damn thing! But now I can't find it." Your voice cracks slightly due to your frustration.

Jordan rolls his eyes at the mention of Damian giving out more ridiculous orders to the team. Priest has been getting more and more authoritarian ever since he won his championship and Rhea had to leave due to her shoulder injury.

"Alright, just relax, love." JD walks back over to his suitcase laying open on the other side of the room. "Your suitcase might not survive another outburst." He jokes and pulls his Judgement Day shirt over his head.

JD tosses the shirt over to you and step forward to catch it. You watch him reach into his suitcase and pull out a different shirt to put on.

"Let Damian bitch at me for not wearing any merch today." JD offers as he pulls a plain purple shirt over his head.

"Thanks, Jordan." You crack a soft, thankful, smile.

You step into the bathroom with Jordan's shirt and the rest of your outfit for the night and get changed. You pull the shirt over your head in the bathroom and notice that it smells like Jordan. Which makes you smile to yourself.

When you come back out of the bathroom, JD is on his phone texting with Finn about the show. He looks up from his phone when he hears you come out of the bathroom and smiles at you.

"Like I said earlier." Jordan pockets his phone and gets to his feet. "You look great in just about anything, YN." He compliments you. "Damian and Dominick are already at the arena, and Finn is waiting for us in the lobby if you're ready to go." He adds.

"Yeah, just let me grab my bag." You nod and retrieve your bag from its spot on your bed. "And hey, thanks again for the shirt, Jordan. I don't know why I was freaking out so much about it." You thank him.

JD shrugs and gets the door for you. "Don't worry about it, YN." He assures you. "Happy to help."

You and JD meet Finn in the hotel lobby and the three of you head out to the arena for Raw. Once you make it to the arena, JD is quick to fall into a conversation with Dominick. You decide to take a minute to catch up with Finn while everyone waits for Damian to arrive back from wherever he's at.

"You ready for Raw, tonight? Finn?" You ask Balor casually. "You've got a match against Jey Uso, right?" You ask him.

"Yep." Finn nods. "I've gone up against Jey, before. It shouldn't be too much of an issue." He assures you. "How about you, YN. How's traveling with JD been?" He asks you. "The two of you getting along? It seems like you are. Especially since, and I mean no offense, but your shirt reeks of him, YN." Finn alludes to something or other involving you and JD.

You laugh at the way Finn maneuvers the conversation around the obvious accusation that he could be making. "Damian's been nagging me about wearing merch for Raw." You explain. "I forgot to pack my shirt, so Jordan lent me his. That's all."

"Oh." Finn replies. "Right, sorry, YN. I didn't mean to accuse you and JD of anything, you know?" He apologizes.

"It's okay, Finn." You laugh. "And to answer your other question, Jordan and I are getting along fine as travel partners." You assure him.

Finn nods and changes the subject to something else. Damian finally makes it back to the locker room right before Raw is set to start, and the mood in the locker room instantly changes when he arrives.

"Good, you're all here." Damian barges into the room, his voice booming as he slams the door behind him. "YN, I see you got the memo about your wardrobe." He comments on your shirt when his gaze happens to flit over to you. "And I see that JD did the opposite." He adds when he glances over at JD who's talking to Dominick.

JD rolls his eyes, but doesn't try and argue with Priest. Damian glosses over the schedule for Raw. He mentions Finn's match against Jey as well as his plans for a promo in the ring before the match.

"Alright, that's everything for tonight." Damian addresses everyone after he's done going over plans. "Y'all can do whatever you want until it's time to head out to the ring."

"How generous of you." You mumble to yourself, which earns some side-eye from Damian.

Damian turns his full attention on you, still siting next to Finn still. "You got something to say, YN?" He asks you.

"Nope. Nothing, boss." You reply dryly and rise from your seat.

Damian's gaze follows you as you walk past him and take a seat next to JD and Dominick. Damian stares at you for a moment, but eventually scoffs and walks off. Dominick heads out to go do something before it gets too late into the night, which leaves you with just JD to talk to.

"Some attitude he's got tonight." You whisper to Jordan with a sour expression.

"Got that right." JD agrees. "Who dies and made him boss anyway?" He adds.

Later into the night, it's almost time for Finn's match against Jey, so Damian rallies the troops and orders everyone out to the ring with him. You bring up the rear of the group with Jordan. Damian leads the pack and talks with Finn about making sure that he doesn't lose to Jey tonight.

"Is he really giving Finn the, 'you better not lose this.' talk, right now?" JD asks you quietly, so Dominick can't hear the two of you whispering.

"It sounds like it, yeah." You nod. "What the fuck is his problem tonight?" You wonder aloud. "I mean, Finn's been a champion way more times and in way more promotions than he ever has." You scoff.

JD nods in agreement, and you both glare over Dominick's shoulder at Damian. "And people like to say I've got a big head." He jokes with you.

You giggle and knock shoulders with JD playfully. "It's not that big." You laugh with him. "Just...larger than average. And it could be worse. You could have a big forehead and be ugly, right?" You add playfully.

"Well, we can't all be as effortlessly pretty as you, YN." Jordan chuckles. "But, I try."

You and Jordan laugh with one another, and for a moment you forget about Damian and his little ego trip.

Everyone files out to the ring and Damian gets a microphone from someone in the timekeepers area. With his microphone in hand, Damian makes his way to the middle of the ring and begins his speech.

You hang out in the corner of the ring with JD and Finn, and Dom is posted up in the other corner while Damian talks. Priest's speech eventually catches the attention of Jey, who was bound to head out to the ring sooner or later. But Jey doesn't come out to the ring alone. With him is Sami Zayn and Kevin Owens, who's visiting from Smackdown since you're in Canada for the week.

"Oh, great." You comment as Sami, Jey, and Kevin all file out to the ring. "He just had to run his mouth, didn't he?" You sigh.

Jey confronts Damian in the middle of the ring, still pissed off about JD and Dom helping Damian cheat to win at Backlash a couple of weeks ago. Sami and Kevin offer Jey support by keep an eye on you, JD, Dom, and Finn, on the other side of the ring.

Eventually, a fight does end up breaking out between the two groups in the ring. You do your best to stay out of the carnage, But it's a little difficult to stay out of the way when bodies are flying around everywhere with reckless abandon.

"Shit! Move, Damian!" You accidentally smack right into Damian on your journey to make it out of the ring.

Your hit knocks Priest off balance and allows Jey an opening to hit him with a pretty nasty super kick. You feel bad for causing it, but slip down to the floor anyway. JD pops up at your side a few seconds later after barreling through Kevin over near the corner of the ring.

"You alright, YN?" JD checks up on you as the chaos of the fight begins to dissipate.

"Yeah, I'm good, Jordan." You nod and head over to Finn as he rolls out of the ring as well.

Dominick joins your trio a few seconds later and everyone gets clear of the ring. Everyone except Damian. Priest remains in the ring and furiously tries another attempt at attacking Jey.

Jey backs off with regroups with Sami and Kevin, leaving Priest alone in the ring. Damian realizes he's alone and frantically starts looking around for his team. He turns around to find everyone waiting for him at the top of the ramp. You gesture for him to join you in a friendly manner, but Damian takes it as anything but a friendly gesture.

You and the group wait at the top of the ramp as Damian makes his way out of the ring. And Dominick is the first one to notice that he looks like he's fuming mad.

"What the hell was all that?!" Damian stomps up the ring and confronts everyone. "So you guys just leave me in the ring alone?" He glares at the group. "And you!" He directs his attention to you. "What the fuck happened in the ring? You tripped me right into Jey!"

"I was trying to get out of the way, Damian." You reply calmly. "It's not like I meant to trip you." You try and assure him that you meant no harm.

Damian rolls his eyes, anger rolling off him like heatwaves. "Right. I swear, Rhea leaves for a week and it's like the four of you turn into a bunch of idiots!" He huffs. "Did you all forget how to listen to simple directions?" He goes back to confronting everyone.

"And who died made you boss?" You reply sharply, not about to take this verbal abuse.

"Rhea did." Damian turns his angry eyes back on you.

You scoff and tsk at him. "The fuck she did." You protest. "Rhea didn't say shit about putting you in charge of anything, Priest! And I'm getting real tired of you bossing me around." You add.

"I'm the champion!" Damian points to the belt hanging off his shoulder. "So what I say goes. You don't like it? Then you can take your bad attitude and get lost." He glares down at you. "Rhea is plenty enough women for this group. We don't need another one."

Before your brain can register what you're doing, you raise a hand and smack Damian across the face. The sound echo's off the barricades either side of the ramp and you suddenly remember that everyone is still standing on the stage and not in the secluded backstage area. Meaning the whole WWE universe just saw you smack Priest across the face.

Damian's nostrils flare and he stares down at you with murder in his eyes. But you don't budge from your spot.

"She's right, Priest." JD speaks up from your side. "You're not our boss. And we're tired of you acting like you can order us around." He comes to your defense.

Damian's rage switches from being directed at you to JD. He towers over Mcdonagh with a locked jaw and glares at him. "Yeah? Well you can join her then." He growls at JD.

"Gladly." JD replies. "Finn, Dominick, don't let this bloke order you around like his lackies, mates." He gives a friendly warning to the remaining Judgment Day members. "Come on, YN. Let's get out of here."

You glance between Finn and Dominick, offering them each a sympathetic smile before you join JD. The two of you walk toward the curtain while the WWE crowd roars throughout the arena.

"You know that we're going to catch hell from Priest for this, right?" You laugh to yourself as you and JD step through the curtain. "And we aren't exactly popular in this locker room." You add.

"Eh." JD shrugs and grabs your hand hanging at your side. "I've got you, love. Nothing else I need." He grins at you.

You giggle and clutch at his hand in yours. "It might not be so bad then." You joke.

You know that being against Priest won't be an easy battle. But you're willing to take the fight head-on as long as JD has your back.

[coreene]

Drow Name Tables from Dragon Magazine

Have a little treat for you drow lovers - a name table for your characters! I was trying to find a name for an OC and came across this post in reddit, thanks to u/dalioftheWoods.

I went ahead and found the Dragon Magazine issue they mention on the post in internet archive here. Issue #267 and page 28.

I am putting the transcript of How It Works text under the cut along with Table 1. Tables for the names are already shared in the reddit post.

Minthara's name can also be found on the this table. Min meaning "  lesser, minor, second" and thara meaning "glyph, marker, rune" It's up to you to decide what her name could mean. The Second Glyph, Lesser Rune, Minor Marker.

I've also noticed a few other names for the drows used in the game on the table.

Nere - Neer "core, root, strong"

Sorn - enchanted, spell

Nym - lost, skeleton, skull.

Interestingly, Nym is the masculine version of this name but female drows can use masculine names without issues, unlike males who will be labelled troublemakers.

How It Works

Each drow name consists of a prefix (from Table 2) and one or more suffixes (from Table 3). Since female and male drow names are often very different, many table entries list a female name fragment and then the male equivalent. Although the names might not seem particularly gender specific to an outsider. any drow will be able to tell the difference immediately. Rarely, a female drow might take part of a purely masculine name. However, any male who uses a solely feminine name fragment would be considered a rogue or troublemaker.

You can randomly generate a drow name by rolling on Table 1 Definitions have been included in these tables to help determine what a name means once it has been generated. If you prefer, it is also possible to pick a set of definitions you like and assemble a name that matches them. If your character is a powerful priestess of Lolth, you might decide her name should reflect this. Looking at the definitions, you decide her name will mean “Spell Weaver." This results in the name “Instra.” For a man, the name would be “Sorntran.”

Keep in mind that drow names frequently sound odd to human ears and might be difficult for humans to pronounce If you really don’t like a particular combination, try adding one or more letters or an apostrophe between the name fragments. Although not every combination of prefixes and suffixes will sound right, usually only a minor change is called for. If you can’t make a particular name work, try one with a similar meaning. If you didn’t like “Instra." try a name that means “Web Priestess” instead.

If you have randomly generated a name and don’t like its definition, try altering the order of the words. It is also possible to use the definition as a starting place for a name’s meaning. Often this definitions can be combined in a poetic way for better results. In the case of a three-fragment name, try dropping one or more of the definitions.

Thus “Halicedril" could mean “The Spider-Taken Warrior.” “Deft Knight." “Nimble Warrior.” or just ‘The Spider Taken.” Don’t worry about two names sharing the same meaning or having two definitions for one name. Two names might sound the same to a human, but a drow would know the difference.

Although some drow have a surname that denotes what family they are descended from or to which guilds they owe loyalty, noble drow and titled commoners can use the name of their noble house, clan, or trading house as a surname. Those drow are free renegades, owing allegiance to no one, sometimes keeping their house name as a reminder of where they came from and what they've escaped. A house name can be assembled from Tables 4 and 5, either by choosing a definition or by rolling once on each.

Table 1 (Roll 1d10)

1d10 Result

1-3 - Roll once on Table 2 and once on Table 3.

4-5 - Roll once on Table 2 and twice on Table 3.

6-7 - Roll once on Table 2, once on Table 3, add an apostrophe, then roll again on Table 3.

8-9 - Roll once on Table 2 and once on Table 3 for a first name, then roll on Table 1 again for a second name.

10 - Roll once on Table 3, add an apostrophe, then roll once on Table 2 and once on Table 3.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for wanting a material thing rather than an experience for my college graduation gift, and being upset I still don't have it?

I skimmed through some other AITA posts to prepare me to write this one properly, and saw someone use the term "validation bait." I bring that up because I fear this post may read like that once all is said and done, but I genuinely am worried my perspective might be skewed. I encourage you to enter "Reddit Mode" if you decide to reply after your judgement with additional context and feel the need to be blunt.

Background context: I have an older sibling who graduated before me during the beginning of COVID. While his gift was delayed as a result, we as a family (three children one father) ended up going to Disney World, NASA, and Universal Orlando in 2021 to celebrate his accomplishment. It was a great trip, aside from the horrific humidity and the hurricane that just barely missed us. Later on, I asked my sibling if that was what he actually wanted to do, and he said our father proposed some ideas because he didn't really have any and Florida sounded like a good idea to him. My asking this will make sense later, but putting it here seems the most logical.

Additionally, it may be important to know that my father goes on a lot of trips. At least, more than anyone I've personally known. I'm not gonna try to calculate the exact number, but I will say in the span of less than a year (after the family Florida trip), he went to both Canada and Mexico for a week each, on top of additional excursions to Florida and Vegas-- almost all also including bringing his girlfriend. At the same time, he claimed assistance with college tuition was out of his budget, started having me pay rent on a part time job, and told my younger sibling fixing the AC in their car would cost too much as well. Even I know something doesn't add up here, but maybe I'm taking it too personally. End background context.

Fast forward to spring of 2023, and it's my turn to graduate college. Here's the thing: my brother was asked at least a year in advance to his graduation what he would like to do. I wasn't asked; I had to bring it up myself, and I waited until my graduation was only two months out. It was also over a phone call, because my father was out of town for at least the fifth time that year already. I dropped the hint that, for my graduation present, I would really like to get a nice gaming desktop. My father's response was, "... We'll see." Later on, he elaborated through text stating, "I took everybody to florida because i think graduations should be more about memories than what material thing you can get out of your dad."

Here's the thing: it's no secret to my dad that I'm a gamer, and I like video games. Additionally, it's no secret that a gaming desktop is something I have wanted for a decade. Even since middle school I've talked about gaming desktops and how much I wanted one. Even so, I happily played games like Saints Row III on a laptop that chugged along at 12 frames per second and took every crash in stride. I also thought that this kind of gift would be a relief to my dad, as my thought process was it would be far less expensive than taking an entire family somewhere out of the state for a week. Not only that, but there wasn't really anywhere I wanted to go. I don't have the desire to travel like he does; I don't mind taking my time off at home or locally, and relaxing with the things I have rather than spending a ton on a fancy dinner or hotel or concert.

So, naturally, I was confused, dismayed, and heartbroken. While I started crafting a text response explaining why a gaming desktop would not just be for personal use, but would also be advantageous for my career (my degree was in animation and I learned surface level coding for making video games), I also wondered why it was wrong for me to want a "material thing" even if it wasn't something necessarily "useful." Because while, yes, a gaming desktop would have the power I needed for more intensive animation projects, that wasn't really why I wanted one. But I figured explaining as such would help convince my dad why it was a good idea.

My dad ended up calling me before I could finish crafting my text, so I did my best to explain my standpoint, as well as pointing out how the specs for a gaming desktop are pretty much parallel with the specs for a desktop for things like 3D rendering and animation. He stood his ground on "making memories" as well, and also hinted that I was acting entitled for asking about my graduation present. I think I pointed out to him how he asked my older brother far in advance what he wanted for his graduation, but those details of the conversation are a little faded with time. I did end up sending my text after that phone call anyway, as I felt it better explained what I was thinking and feeling than I could say in verbal conversation (I've always gotten a little flustered talking to my dad about things I want that he doesn't approve of).

Fortunately, after reading my text, my father seemed to come around, and invited me to put together a list of parts for my computer, since I wanted to build it. I got really excited and got the help of my computer-savvy friend to put together something I thought was reasonable-- it had a really good graphics card and processor, and I made compromises on some of the other parts to lower the cost. I haven't looked at the list in a while, but the total cost-- tower, two mid-range monitors, basic keyboard and mouse-- was something like 2.5k approaching 3k. Mid range (at least, it is these days) I think, but it would be enough for the things I wanted to do.

I put the list together, and emailed it to my dad. The assumption I had, was he would purchase the parts, and then we would build it together (or I would build it alone). However, later on I went to ask him if he had gotten my email, and while he said yes, he also said, "I'm not paying for the whole thing. I can't afford it, and it's not fair to spend more on you as an individual than what I spent on your brother as an individual for the Florida trip."

I find the latter point somewhat fair considering I'm the only person who benefits from this gift, but the first point, given the background context on my father's habits, I'm not sure how much I believe. But arguing with him would have been pointless. I definitely would have liked to have had that information beforehand, but it ultimately didn't change much.

This is getting long, so I'll try to summarize the rest. This was just the first instance of my father changing the goal posts for my graduation gift. First, he tried to convince me that getting a prebuilt tower would be just as good. I did the research, and a tower with the graphics card I wanted would have cost as much as building my own tower and buying a monitor, keyboard, and mouse, and still not have been as good in other specs anyways. Then, he tried to tell me he was only going to give me $1000 towards the computer. I pointed out paying for my older sibling for the Florida trip would have cost at least $1500-- if I hadn't done the research, I wouldn't have known any better and just blindly agreed. Then, two days after my graduation, he stated that he wasn't going to give me the money for the computer until I had secured a full time job.

At that point, I just gave up, and agreed.

Fast forward to now. I'm still working the part time job, I barely make enough to put a couple dollars into savings, no one is hiring me full time, and my dad hinted that, instead of doing presents for Christmas this year, we all agree to go on vacation somewhere. Not only that, but his family in Canada just told him they're going to Mexico in November. Not only is my dad implying we should go too and I should pay a portion of my own way, I have a further feeling he may say that this will be our Christmas as well. I still don't have the computer, even though my dad has noticed how much I'm struggling.

If I had the computer, I wouldn't have minded the vacation-- but I feel like my wants and feelings have been completely pushed aside in favor of what my dad thinks is good and/or right, and the wind has been taken out of my sails regarding my graduation entirely. On the other hand, maybe he's right that I focus too much on a material thing and should redirect my attention to an experience and go somewhere to relax/get away from daily life.

Am I a materialistic asshole?

What are these acronyms?

[hockey-fics]

A Love Worth Changing For ~ Nico Hischier

Summary: Your commitment to yourself to stay out of a relationship becomes harder to keep when you meet someone who just might be worth breaking your promises for.

Word count: ~8,900

Warnings: Drinking (quite a bit), implied/vaguely mentioned smut, throwing up, toxic behaviours.

A/N: I kind of hate how this turned out, to be honest. It's not super well edited because I didn't want to read through it yet another time.

You didn’t want to be in a relationship. It was a promise you made to yourself. You wouldn’t get into a relationship until you were done with school. You had high expectations for yourself in your years at university. You wanted to do well, that was a given. Staying out of a relationship would only leave you with more time to study. But you also wanted these years to explore who you were as a person, casually date, figure out what you wanted in a partner and what kind of partner you wanted to be. 

It wasn’t hard, at least not for the first few years. Until you decided to go to grad school and decided to keep your commitment to not having any romantic commitment. And then came your second hurdle, when you met Nico.  

October 2021

Standing at the kitchen counter you fill a bowl with a bag of chips that you know will go mostly untouched in favour of drinks, but it was the thought that mattered, right? Your phone vibrates on the counter and your eyes fall to your bright screen. A text from Jack. Unlocking your phone you read the message, asking if he could bring a couple friends. Sighing to yourself you reply that it was fine, though you were a little nervous about who Jack was going to be bringing to a party you were already worried might be getting too large. 

Before long your apartment is full of people, half of which you didn’t know, tagging along with the half that you did. You’re in the kitchen mixing yourself an unnecessarily strong drink of tequila and orange juice when you feel someone tap you on the shoulder. Turning around your eyes focus on Jack. 

“Hey,” you greet, pulling him into a quick, friendly hug. Jack. You met him when you both arrived in New Jersey, him to play for the Devils and you to start your undergrad degree. It was an instant connection, but not the kind your friends had speculated. You understood that he was attractive, you knew that almost everyone seemed to fall for him. But your connection with him felt more like a brother than anything more. “How was your game?”

“It was good…It would be really cool if you would like watch a game once in awhile,” Jack jokes. 

“I was busy,” you whine, taking a large sip of your drink. 

“Busy with what?”

“Preparing this place to sustain the damage of another party,” you inform him. “And pre-gaming.”

“I see how it is, rather get drunk than come see me play.”

Rolling your eyes you lean back against the counter. “Honestly, yeah,” you joke. Your eyes travel over Jack’s shoulder, to the man standing behind him, hands shoved in his pockets, glancing around uncertainly. “Hi,” you call to him, catching his attention. “I’m Y/N.”

“Hey, uh, I’m Nico,” he tells you, shuffling his way between Jack and some other guy you had yet to meet. “Is this your place?”

“Yeah,” you tell him, hearing a shattering of glass from the other side of the kitchen. “Unfortunately,” you add with a breath of laughter. “I should go deal with that, I’ll talk to you later, Nico,” you tell him, placing your hand on his arm as you slip by him in the direction of the shattering sound. 

After helping clean up the mess of broken glass and spilled beer you head back into the kitchen, needing another drink. You find Jack and Nico nearly exactly where you had left them, discussing something with an intensity that piques your interest. 

“Am I missing something?” you ask Jack, pouring yourself another drink. 

“He thinks you’re hot,” Jack states boldly. 

You’re caught off guard by how easily he offers the information, especially when you see Nico elbow him in the side, clearly not wanting him to have said that. “Oh?” you say, turning to face Nico, a playful smile on your lips. 

“I, uh,” Nico begins, eyes falling to the ground. “Yeah,” he finally mutters. 

Giggling you take a sip of your drink, stepping a little closer to him. “Well, I think you’re pretty hot as well,” you tell him, hoping it would ease some of the awkward tension that had fallen on the conversation. 

“This is gross,” Jack mutters, gulping back half of his beer in one go. 

“You’re the one who brought it up, dumbass,” you remind him, spinning to lean against the counter beside Nico. “Tell me more about yourself,” you say to Nico. 

“What do you want to know?”

Shrugging you glance down to his empty hands. “Do you not drink?”

“I offered to drive him home,” Nico tells you, nodding towards Jack. 

“Drive Jack home?” you mutter, eyebrows furrowed. “Jack never goes home after he gets drunk here.”

“Oh, I, uh, didn’t know you two were-,” Nico stammers, shaking his head as he glances over to Jack with an incredulous look. 

“That’s not what I meant,” you exclaim with wide eyes. “He sleeps on the couch.”

“Oh,” Nico chuckles. 

“So, does that mean you’re going to have a drink?”

Nico shrugs, looking over at Jack, who was already on his third beer. “I still need to drive myself home.”

“I’m sure we can find you somewhere to sleep,” you tell him. 

And find him somewhere to sleep was exactly what you did, in your bed right next to you. 

When you wake up the next morning your arm is slung over Nico’s chest, your head on his shoulder. Slowly you pull your body away from him, tugging the sheets up over your naked body as you reach for your phone on the nightstand. 9:35 AM. 

“Morning,” Nico mumbles tiredly.

“Morning,” you reply, glancing down at him with a soft smile. “How are you feeling?”

“Alright,” Nico shrugs. “Tired.”

“Me too,” you laugh. “Do you want some coffee or something?”

“If you’re going to make some for yourself I’ll have some.”

Climbing out of bed you pull some clothes on, shuffling out of your room to take in the damage from the night before. The kitchen counters are littered with cans and bottles, sticky with spilled drinks. Sighing to yourself you grab a bag, beginning the long process of post-party clean up. Nico is at your side a second later, tossing cans into the bag you were holding. 

“You don’t need to clean up, it’s okay,” you assure him, not wanting him to feel obligated to help clean your apartment after a party you decided to throw. 

“I don’t mind,” Nico shrugs. “I’m sure some of it is my mess.”

His justification makes you giggle, knowing that he had been one of the only people the night before to ask you where you wanted him to put his empty cans. You finish clearing off the counter together, wiping it down before making a pot of coffee. While it was brewing you stand at the counter, Nico in front of you, his hands on your hips as he looks down at you. 

“So do you think I can get your number?” Nico asks. 

Running your hands up his arms you rest them on his shoulders, smiling playfully up at him. “Yeah, I think maybe I could give you my number.”

Leaning down Nico presses his lips to yours again, gently and slowly, tugging your hips closer to his body.

“Get a room.”

Pulling back from Nico you look across the kitchen to where Jack was now standing. “You know this is my apartment, right?” you joke, pulling your arms back from Nico. “Do you want some coffee?”

“Sure,” Jack mumbles, leaning tiredly into the counter. “Do you have that girl’s number?”

“Who?” you ask, pressing your palms into the counter, hopping up onto it. 

“You know, the one I was talking to.”

“Do you even remember her name?”

“Yeah,” Jack mutters dismissively. 

“What is it then?”

“Do you have her number or not?” Jack exclaims, rubbing his fingers over his temples. 

“Yes,” you tell him with a sigh. “I’m not giving you her number if you can’t even remember her name.”

Jack lets out a loud groan, shaking his head. “Fine, whatever,” he grumbles. 

Nico glances up at you with a look that told you he agreed with your decision. “You remember my name, right?” you joke. 

Nico chuckles, leaning up to press his lips to your again. “Of course,” he tells you. 

After the coffee is done brewing you pour a few mugs, adding some cream to your coffee. Heading into the living room you curl up on the couch, leaning into Nico when he sits down beside you. The three of you sit in the living room, talking about the night before while finishing your coffee. 

Shortly after finishing his coffee Jack decides to get an Uber home, leaving you and Nico alone again. You spend the majority of the day cuddled up with Nico on the couch, watching movie after movie as the hangover slowly begins to leave your body. 

“When are you free for me to take you on a date?” Nico asks after the end of yet another movie. 

Sitting up you pull your body away from Nico, turning to look over at him. “Nico, I do like you but I feel like I should tell you that I’m not really looking for anything serious right now.”

“Does that mean I don’t get to see you again?”

“No, that’s not what I mean,” you giggle, shaking your head. “I just wanted you to know that.”

“Okay,” Nico says with a shrug. “How about Wednesday night?”

“Wednesday night sounds good to me,” you reply, leaning over and kissing him gently. 

Wednesday night comes around quickly and your date goes incredibly well. As does the next date, and all the ones after that. It wasn’t long till you were spending almost all your spare time together. 

There was a connection you had with Nico that was undeniable. But you were holding onto your promise to yourself that you weren’t going to get into a relationship. 

December 2021

You’re finally packing clothes for your trip home, having just finished your exams a few days earlier. Going home for the holidays was always one of the highlights of your year, when you could finally relax without worrying about assignments or classes or exams. Folding a few sweaters you set them into the suitcase on your bed, a sudden knock on your door startling you. 

Heading through your apartment you hesitantly pull the door open, relaxing when you see Nico standing in front of you. “What are you doing here?” 

“I wanted to see you before you left,” Nico explains, stepping inside. “And I wanted to bring you this.”

Your eyes fall to the wrapped box in his hand. “A Christmas present?”

“Yeah,” Nico chuckles, setting it into your hands. 

“Why?” you whisper, looking up into his eyes. “You didn’t have to get me anything, we’re not-.”

“We’re not together, I know,” Nico interrupts, having heard the line from you over and over again at various times throughout the last few months. Not together, just friends with benefits...who also happened to be going on frequent dates.

Sighing you set the present down onto the table by the door, reaching over to take his hands. “Well, thank you,” you whisper, leaning up and pressing your lips to his. “But you really didn’t have to.”

“You’re welcome,” Nico says, pulling you into a hug. “When do you have to be at the airport?”

“Tomorrow morning at eight.”

“I can drive you…if you want,” Nico offers. 

Pulling back you smile up at him, fingers running down his arms. “That would be great, thank you. Do you have plans tonight?”

“No.”

“Do you want to stay here tonight?” 

A smirk forms on Nico’s lips, his hands finding their way to your hips. “Yes.”

Giggling you lean up, kissing him again. This time you don’t pull back immediately, your arms finding their way over his shoulders. His tongue brushes against yours and you push yourself closer to him, fingers curling into the fabric of his sweater. 

“Let’s go to my room,” you mumble against his lips before taking his hand and pulling him through your apartment to your bedroom. 

“Do you need to finish packing?” Nico asks, his eyes falling to the suitcase on your bed, piles of clothes laying around your room. 

“It can wait,” you assure him, setting your suitcase onto the ground. You’re on the bed a second later, letting Nico pull your clothes off. Hands grasping at each other, both knowing that you’d have to go a few weeks without getting to see each other, without getting to touch each other. 

Nico makes you finish more times than you ever had in one night, till you’re a shaky, flushed mess. Maybe it was because you would be apart from each other for awhile, maybe he was trying to leave a lasting impression, keep you from wanting to be with anyone else. Whatever the reason, you were more than okay with it. 

“I should probably finish packing,” you whisper, head laying on Nico’s shoulder, fingers grazing over his chest. 

“Do you need help or anything?” Nico offers.

“No, there’s not that much left to do,” you tell him as you pull some clothes back on. 

Nico spends the rest of the evening keeping you company while you finish packing and doing last minute preparation around your apartment. By the time you get to bed that night you know that neither of you was going to end up with an adequate amount of sleep that night. But you didn’t mind if it meant spending more time with Nico. 

June 2022

You were prepared to spend the summer away from Nico. You didn’t want to, that much you needed to admit. But you weren’t his girlfriend, he wasn’t your boyfriend. There was no reason for any variation to Nico’s normal summer plans. 

So you had said goodbye to him the night before he flew back to Switzerland to spend time with his friends and family. You managed to hold back your emotions till he left and you couldn’t hold the tears back any longer. 

You kept yourself busy, picking up extra shifts when you could to keep your mind off of missing him. You knew it wasn’t normal, to have these feelings for someone who you were refusing to be more than just friends with benefits with. 

Of course the two of you continued talking, text messages being exchanged when the time difference would allow for it. But it wasn’t until he called you one evening that you were really reminded that whatever was going on between you two was a lot more than what you were willing to say out loud. 

“Hey,” you greet as you answer the phone, sitting in your living room, watching re-runs of your favourite TV show. 

“Hi,” Nico replies, his voice was quiet but you could hear a slight slur in his words. “What are you doing?”

“Uh, not a lot, watching TV,” you tell him, sitting up straighter on the couch, eyes narrowing as you stare at the other end of the couch. “What are-,” you can’t even finish asking what he was doing before he cuts you off. 

“With who?” Nico asks and there’s something in his tone that makes you feel like it’s more of an accusation than a genuine question. 

“Nobody…why?”

“You’re watching TV by yourself on a Friday night?”

“Well it’s 6PM here,” you remind him. “But yes, I’m watching TV alone, why?”

“Right,” Nico mutters. “I miss you.”

“Are you drunk?”

“No,” Nico replies quickly. “Yes,” he admits just as quickly, without you even needing to question him on it. “We went out for drinks, I had too many.”

“Well did you at least have fun?” you ask, holding back a laugh. 

“Yeah…I wish you were here though.”

Your silent for a little too long, wracking your brain for what to say. ‘Me too’ didn’t feel right, even if it was the truth. “You’ll be back in a couple months,” you finally whisper. 

“I don’t want to wait that long,” Nico mumbles. “I want you to come here.”

Laughing softly you roll your eyes to yourself, leaning back into the couch. 

“I’m not joking,” Nico states, clearly taking offence to your laughter. 

“I can’t,” you tell him, nervously fiddling with a loose thread on your shorts. 

“Why not? I’ll buy you a flight, you can stay with me or I can get you a hotel or whatever, it doesn't matter.”

“That’s not the problem, Nico,” you tell him, though if you were seriously considering his suggestion it probably would have been a problem.

“Then what is?”

“We-,” you begin, pausing to take a deep breath. “We’re not together…I’m not your girlfriend, Nico. I’m not going to fly halfway across the world and meet your friends and family when we’re not even together,” you explain. 

The silence that follows is so long that you begin to wonder if he was even still there. But you sit in the silence, with each second growing more and more uncomfortable.

“I love you.”

“Nico,” you whisper, eyes welling with tears. You weren’t even sure where your emotions were coming from, but they were beyond overwhelming. “You don’t…you don’t mean that. You’re drunk-.”

“I do,” Nico insists, knowing where you were about to go with your sentence. Maybe he wasn’t as drunk as you thought, but you didn’t want to truly admit that. 

“Can we talk tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Nico mumbles. 

“Get some sleep, okay?” 

“Okay,” Nico whispers. “Have a good night.”

The two of you did talk the next day. But at no point did either of you bring up the night before. Maybe he didn’t remember it. Maybe he no longer wanted to discuss it now that his mind was no longer clouded by alcohol. Either way you were pretty sure it was the best outcome for both you and him. 

October 2022

“I like this one,” you say, pointing out a small pumpkin sitting on the edge of a pallet in the pumpkin patch. 

“It’s so small,” Nico comments, chuckling as he stands next to you, staring down at the little pumpkin. 

Shrugging you lean down, picking it up. “It’s cute.”

“Like you,” Nico says with a smirk, already anticipating your response. 

Rolling your eyes you jokingly take a step away from him. “Gross.”

Reaching over Nico takes your hand, tugging you back towards him. “I know you like it.”

Shaking your head you let go of his hand, running it up his arm to wrap around his shoulders. Pushing yourself onto your tip toes you press your lips to his. “I do,” you admit, stepping back from him. “Now pick your pumpkin so we can go home and carve them.”

After Nico picks out and pays for the pumpkins you head back to your apartment, stopping on your way there to pick up dinner and a couple bottles of wine. 

“Do you want the shiraz or the zinfandel?” you call to Nico, pulling a couple glasses of wine out from the cupboard. 

Glancing over your shoulder you watch Nico set the pumpkins down on the table, a smile on his face. “You know that I don’t know the difference.”

Giggling you open the drawer in the kitchen, rifling through it for your wine opener. “I want to try the zinfandel,” you tell him, jumping as you feel his hands on your hips, tugging your back into his chest. 

“Sounds great to me,” Nico whispers, leaning down and kissing your neck gently. 

With a quiet, pleasure filled sigh you let yourself melt into him, the warmth of his body radiating into you. “Thanks for doing this with me.”

“Doing what?” Nico asks, letting you turn around in his arms to face him. 

“This whole pumpkin thing, I know it’s kind of stupid as adults,” you explain. 

Nico shakes his head, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into his arms. “It’s not stupid and you don’t need to thank me, I wanted to do this,” Nico assures you. 

“I l-,” you begin, stopping yourself short as you realize what you were about to say. I love you. Swallowing heavily you pull yourself back from him, quickly turning around, fumbling with the wine opener. 

“What were you going to say?”

Shaking your head you twist the screw into the cork, fingers shaking nervously. “Nothing, it doesn’t matter.”

“It does,” Nico insists, reaching over and placing his hand on your lower back, trying to get your attention again. “Just talk to me.”

“I said it doesn’t matter,” you snap, struggling to wiggle the cork out of the bottle. As the cork pops out of the top of the bottle the sudden change in force sends the bottle slipping across the counter, red wine sloshing out all over the counter as the bottle clatters onto the counter. “Fuck,” you mutter, eyes welling with tears as you reach for the bottle, quickly standing it back up. 

As you reach for the towel hanging on the handle of the oven Nico catches your hands, pulling you to face him. “Slow down,” he says gently. “What’s going on?”

The tears that had welled up in your eyes were slipping down your cheeks now, your hands stilled by Nico’s hands stopping you from wiping them away. “I love you,” you exclaim. “Is that what you want to hear?”

Nico is quiet for a few seconds before wrapping his arms around you, rubbing your back gently. “I only want to hear it if you mean it.”

You don’t answer him. You knew you should answer him. But you couldn’t. You couldn’t bring yourself to say it again, you could barely say it once. “I need to clean up the wine,” you whisper, wiggling out of Nico’s arms. 

“You should use the paper towel, you’ll stain that one,” Nico tells you, gesturing to the towel you had originally reached for. 

“Right,” you whisper, nodding slowly as you stare up at him. You didn’t know what you had expected out of him after that, but it sure wasn’t cleaning tips. After cleaning up the wine from the counter you excuse yourself to the bathroom, looking at yourself in the mirror. Wiping away the remnant of your tears you take a few deep breaths, eventually managing to calm yourself enough to venture back to the kitchen. 

When you step into the room your eyes find Nico at the table, two glasses of wine and the pumpkins in front of him. “What-?”

“You don’t want to carve them anymore?” Nico asks. 

“I-,” you begin, walking through the room to sit down at the table with him. “Yeah, I do.”

For awhile the two of you sit in relative silence, the energy in the room feeling tense. But by the time your glass of wine was empty the tension had dissipated. 

You knew you loved him. You knew you meant it when you said it. You knew it before but something in that evening only made you love him even more. He didn’t push you. He didn’t make you feel bad. He was there for you, with you, in whatever way you wanted in that moment. 

November 2022

“Jack, I don’t feel good,” you whisper, glancing around the packed night club. 

Jack turns his attention away from the group of your friends that he was in the midst of a conversation with. His eyes land on you, nodding slowly as he reaches out, placing his hand on your side to steady your swaying body. “Come on,” he mumbles, guiding you through the building and into one of the single stall bathrooms. 

You’re only in the bathroom for a second before you’re hovering over the toilet, the plethora of drinks you had consumed that night coming right back up. 

“I’m going to get you some water,” Jack tells you, turning to open the door. “Stay here, okay?”

Nodding you flush the toilet, standing up and placing your hands on the edge of the counter, a steady surface to steady your not so steady self against. You turn the lock on the door, leaning into the counter again, taking deep breath to try to keep 

Jack returns a few moments later with a glass of water which you gratefully take. After downing half the glass you feel your eyes fill with tears, drunk mind racing with emotions. “Does he hate me?” you mutter, looking over at Jack. 

“What?” Jack asks, eyebrows furrowed. 

“Nico,” you whisper. “Does he hate me? He asked me to take things further again yesterday and I said no.”

“I don’t know, I haven’t talked to him in a few days,” Jack tells you. “Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“Refusing to be his girlfriend and now you’re crying about him.”

Your eyes fall to the ground, trying to find some sort of valid explanation for him. “I don’t want to be in a relationship right now,” you finally whisper. 

“Why? You’re obviously into him,” Jack retorts quickly. 

“Because, I’m supposed to figure out who I am in university, Jack. I’m supposed to have crazy, fun experiences with new people and I’m not supposed to find the person I’m going to be with for the rest of my life right now and-.”

“He’s not asking you to marry him,” Jack interrupts. “Why are you worried about spending the rest of your life with him right now?”

“Because I don’t want to get my heart broken, I don’t want to get hurt,” you mutter. 

“You’re crying about him in a bathroom,” Jack exclaims, shaking his head. “You’re already hurt.”

“No,” you whisper, sniffling softly, tears rolling down your cheeks again. You didn’t want to admit Jack was right, you didn’t want to admit that everything you had done in the last year to keep Nico at a distance had been for nothing. “I want to go home.”

“You can come back to my place,” Jack offers with a sigh, clearly not wanting his night to be over but also not about to leave you alone. 

“I’ll just get an Uber,” you tell him, pulling your phone from your pocket. 

“I’m not letting you Uber home alone right now.”

You knew it was coming from a place of concern, but you really didn’t want to be the one to wreck his plans for the night. Whatever those plans were. “Fine,” you mutter. “But I don’t want to force you to go home.”

“Well all your friends are here and they’re also drunk so what do you want me to do?”

“I don’t know,” you whine, tipping your head back to look at the ceiling. The tiles are spinning in your mind and your head feels heavy, but you manage to lift it again before the spinning brings on another round of nausea. Your eyes land on Jack, watching him typing something quickly into his phone. You manage to restrain your drunken nosiness from asking who he was talking to, staying silent. 

“Nico is going to pick you up,” Jack tells you a few minutes later, making your heart race. 

“No,” you exclaim, shaking your head. You couldn’t let him see you like this. 

“He’s already on his way,” Jack tells you definitively. “Come on, I’ll walk outside with you and wait for him.”

“Jack,” you whine, following him out of the bathroom anyway. “This is mean.”

“I offered to take you home,” Jack snaps, clearly annoyed with you for making any attempts to help much harder than necessary. 

Sighing you follow him outside, the cold night air feeling refreshing to your nightclub-induced clammy skin. “I’m scared, Jack,” you whisper, standing next to him on the sidewalk. 

“Why?”

“He hates me-.”

“He’s picking you up drunk at two in the morning, he doesn’t hate you.”

“Yes, he does,” you repeat. “He hates me but he’s nice a good guy and he’s just coming to pick me up because he’s not a shitty person and I-.”

“Shut up,” Jack groans. “Yeah, he’s a nice guy or whatever but he’s not nice enough to get out of bed and come here to take care of you if he doesn’t still like you.”

Just as Jack finished his sentence a familiar car pulls up along the side of the road. Quickly Jack yanks the passenger’s side door open. “Good luck,” he tells Nico as he guides you into the car. 

“You okay?” Nico asks as you pull your seatbelt on, refusing to look across the car at him. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you mutter, eyes focusing out the side window, small raindrops beginning to splatter onto the clear glass. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“Of course I did,” Nico states and you can tell he’s glancing at you when he says it. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t want to either though,” he clarifies. 

"I'm sorry," you whisper, finally glancing over at him. "I'm sorry for making this so hard, I'm sorry I can't be who you want me to be right now, I like you so much Nico but I just can't be with you right now."

"It's okay," Nico tells you, his own voice greatly contrasting your unsteady, high-pitched tone. "I'm not going to push anything, if you want me around I'll be here. I'll wait for you."

January 2023

New Year's Eve. It was the one holiday that you seemed to never have a single tradition for. You had spent your New Year's Eve in a new location every year, from your bedroom to house parties to bars. This year though it was going to spent at a nightclub. A nightclub with as many friends as you could possibly wrangle into spending their night’s in a sweaty, loud, sticky nightclub downtown…including Nico.

You had gotten to Jack’s place just after eight, having spent the better part of three hours getting ready with your best friends at your apartment. You had to admit though, the time paid off, your outfit giving you an almost dangerous amount of confidence. 

“Where’s Nico?” you ask Jack, watching him pour another round of shots. 

You watch Jack’s lips curl into a teasing smirk, glancing at you for a second before returning to his bartending role. “Very interested in him for not being with him.”

“Shut up,” you mutter, taking a sip of your vodka soda. “I’m just curious, it doesn’t mean anything.”

“Here,” Jack states, handing you a shot glass, filled to the brim with tequila. As you reach to take the shot glass he pulls it away, holding it out of your reach. “You have to promise that you’re not going to end up puking and crying about him tonight.”

“Fuck off,” you mutter, reaching over and taking the shot glass from his hand, quickly dumping it into your mouth. You force the liquid down your throat with a wince, shuddering as you set the empty glass down onto the counter. 

“If I hear you say you’re not feeling good I will be finding someone else to take care of you.”

“I’ve never been that drunk in my life before, Jack. Stop acting like it happens frequently,” you whine. 

Jack chuckles, opening another beer. “You’re still that embarrassed about it, hey?”

“It was embarrassing,” you exclaim, glancing around the apartment, your interest piquing as your eyes sweep by the front door. Looking back you see Nico, struggling to yank his jacket off while holding a case of beer in one hand. “I’ll be right back,” you mutter to Jack, hurrying over to the door. “Need some help?” you ask Nico, taking the beer from his hand to let him take his jacket off. 

“Thanks,” he says with a chuckle, balancing his coat on a stack over a hook on the wall. He turns his attention back you, his eyes gazing up and down your body. “You look hot,” he comments. 

You can’t help but giggle at his comment, your cheeks reddening. “Well it took me long enough to get ready so I’m glad I got something out of it.” Turning around you head towards the kitchen with Nico’s beer. 

Nico has his hands on your hips, stopping you in your tracks a moment later. “You can get anything you want looking like that,” Nico whispers. 

Your breath catches in your throat, your back hitting Nico’s chest as you come to a stop. “It’s nine, Nico. We’ve got at least three more hours to go.”

“And?” Nico mumbles. 

Giggling you lean back into him, tipping your head back to look up at him. “And if you keep this up I won’t be able to make it till midnight without trying to get you back to my place.”

Nico chuckles, his hand slipping around to your ass as he moves to walk towards the kitchen. Your cheeks warm even further at the contact, watching him take the beer from you, unloading a few of them into Jack’s fridge. 

By the time you get to the club that night you’re a little more than tipsy, knowing you wouldn’t need to spend much money at the bar that night. The night had started with a lot of flirting between you and Nico, but once you arrived at the club you found yourself swept away with a few of your other friends. 

Before you knew it you were standing in a group with just a couple of your friends and quite a few men you had never met before. There’s a man standing next to you who had his hands on you more than was accidental. A hand on your back as he squeezed by to order another drink, fingers brushing against yours, body pressing to yours while he leaned in to try to hear something someone said. You didn’t dislike it, you knew he was flirting with you and part of you was enthralled by that, by the attention. But every time it happened your mind would find its way back to Nico. 

“Let’s get you another drink,” Peter, who you had just discovered the name of, says. 

Your eyes glance down at your empty drink before letting him guide you to the bar with his hand on your waist. You order your drink and Peter pulls out his wallet. The two of you make small talk while you sip on your new drink. He was attractive, you had to admit that. But that’s about where it stopped. There was nothing about his personality that enticed you, but selfishly you did like the attention. 

But you’re not able to see where things would go with him because the next thing you know Nico is pushing his way through the crowd to be at your side. 

“What are you doing?” Nico asks you, not even acknowledging the man you were talking to. 

Shrugging your shoulders your eyes flick back and forth from Nico to Peter and back to Nico. “What do you mean?”

Nico shakes his head with a cold chuckle, reaching down and taking your hand. “Come on, you’re done here.”

“Nico,” you whisper, eyes drilling into his. “What are you doing?”

“Don’t,” Nico mutters, shaking his head. “You know what I’m talking about, let’s go.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you state definitively, staring into his eyes as you match his intensity. 

“What’s going on?” Peter interjects, catching both you and Nico’s attention. 

“I think you should go,” Nico tells him before you have a chance to get a single word in. 

“Why?” Peter asks with a cold chuckle. “She clearly isn’t interested in you, why would I go anywhere?”

You don’t even process what’s happening till Peter is stumbling backwards, hand on his jaw where Nico’s fist had just met with it. Thankfully a bouncer pulls Peter back before he can retaliate, Nico frozen in place, just as stunned by his actions as everyone else in that club. 

You weren’t happy with Nico’s actions but you turn towards him anyway, grasping his arms a second later. “What the hell?” you exclaim, frantic eyes searching his for any type of answer. 

Before Nico has a chance to say anything a bouncer is at his side, nodding towards the door. “You gotta go.”

“I-,” Nico begins before turning in the direction of the door, knowing he wasn’t going to argue his way out of this one. 

You watch the bouncer guiding Nico towards the door, realizing you weren’t also being kicked out. You didn’t need to go. You could stay, you could keep drinking, celebrate New Years in this club. But the further and further Nico got with the bouncer the more uneasy you felt. So you let your legs carry you through the club and out the front door, into the freezing night air with Nico. 

“Nico,” you call as you watch him walking away from the club, clearly with no real destination in mind. 

“What?” Nico snaps, turning back around to look at you. “What do you want?”

“You’re really mad at me right now?” you yell, crossing your arms over your chest, trying to keep yourself warm. 

“Yes,” Nico exclaims. “Are you serious right now?”

“I’m not your girlfriend, Nico.”

Nico shakes his head, laughing coldly. “I guess not,” Nico yells. “But whatever, it doesn’t matter anymore, I’m fucking done with this, I’m done with you.”

“Nico,” you mumble, walking closer to him, hoping something, anything you would say could convince him that it wasn’t that serious. “Please don’t say that.”

“No, I’m over this, I’m not going to keep fighting for you if you don’t give a fuck about me.”

“I do care about you,” you yell back at him, your voice hoarse and shaky. “I care about you so much, Nico, you don’t even know.”

“If you cared about me you wouldn’t be trying to fuck other guys right in front of me.”

“I-,” you begin, realizing you didn’t even know what your justification was about to be. Because, to be honest, you didn’t have one. “I’m sorry,” you finally croak. 

“Just go back inside, I don’t fucking care,” Nico mutters, slurred words finally giving away his drunken state. 

“I do,” you yell, walking closer to him. “I don’t want to go back inside, Nico. I don’t want to leave you…I do care.”

“Why?” Nico snaps, staring down at you intently now that you were standing just a foot in front of him. 

“Because I love you,” you exclaim, the words leaving your mouth before you even had a chance to process them. 

“Then don’t try to fuck other people,” Nico mutters, sliding his jacket off his arms now that you were close enough for him to realize you were shaking, gently placing it over your shoulders. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper again, tears welling in your eyes. You slip your arms into his jacket, tugging it tight around your body. “Please, I can’t lose you. I don’t want to be with him, I don’t want to be with anyone else. I want you.”

Nico steps back, taking a deep breath as he looks around the night sky for a minute. “Okay,” Nico mutters and you’re sure it’s more to himself than to you. “Do you want to go back in?”

“I’m not leaving you,” you tell him. 

“It’s New Years, go be with your friends, I’m the one who fucked up.”

“No, you didn’t,” you whisper. “I mean, I don’t think you should have punched him but I’m not letting you take all the blame for this...Do you want to come over to my place?”

“Okay…sure, yeah, if that’s what you want to do,” Nico says, reaching over and pulling you into him, rubbing his hand along your arm, trying to warm you up. 

So the two of you head back to your apartment, spending the rest of New Year's Eve together, just the two of you and a bottle of champagne.

It wasn’t the New Year's Eve you were expecting. It wasn’t necessarily the New Year's Eve you wanted, but maybe it was the New Year's Eve you needed. The wake up call that you had gone far beyond just friends with benefits. Even if you weren’t ready to accept it. 

February 2023

Things had changed after the New Year's Eve incident. Neither of you had verbally talked about what had changed but you both knew it had. It was the second time you told him you loved him. The second time neither of you acknowledged it after it happened. I don’t want to be with anyone else. Your words had continued echoing in your mind and you knew you should deal with those thoughts, those feelings. 

But you didn’t.

Maybe you really wanted to keep your commitment to yourself, to not get into a relationship till you had graduated. Maybe you were scared to take that step. Maybe you were embarrassed to ask for that after pushing it away for so long. 

So you fell back into the routine you had before. Frequent dates and spending most of your time together in between. It was different, yet the routines remained the same for months.

June 2023

“I need a date to the awards ceremony,” Nico says, referring to the NHL Awards that were approaching quickly.

“I don’t think you need a date,” you reply, looking up over the top of your phone to the other end of the couch, where Nico was sitting. 

“Okay…I want a date for the awards,” Nico tells you, reframing his statement.

“Okay,” you mutter, accepting his rephrased sentence. 

“Are you going to come with me?”

“No,” you mumble, sitting up straighter on the couch. 

“Why not?”

Rolling your eyes you lock your phone, tossing it down next to you. “Nico, you know why. I’m not your girlfriend.”

“This is a big deal for me,” Nico exclaims, clearly already knowing you were going to put up a fight about this. “Just come with me as a friend then.”

“You don’t bring just a friend to that kind of event. I know that much,” you tell him. 

Suddenly Nico is on his feet, pacing the length of your living room, making it halfway back before throwing his hands up in defeat. “You can’t just be there for me, support me, even once. I’m getting tired of this…whatever this is.”

“I’m sorry,” you tell him, his words hitting you hard. “I do, I do want to support, I promise.”

Just three days later you’re standing in a fitting room, pulling a dress onto your body. Stepping out of the room your eyes land on Nico, waiting for his reaction to this one. It was the fifth dress you had tried on, Nico telling you he liked all of them. 

“I like it,” Nico says, his eyes roaming over your body. 

Groaning loudly you turn towards the mirror, adjusting the dress slightly. “Why’d you even insist on coming if you’re not going to give me any input?”

“Because I’m buying it for you,” Nico tells you in a matter-of-fact tone. 

“No, you’re not,” you tell him, though it would be pretty helpful for your grad student budget. 

“I’m not arguing with you about this.”

“Me neither,” you reply, stepping back into the fitting room to try on another one. 

Eventually you narrow it down enough that Nico finally gives his input, once he was simply picking between two dresses. At the till you try to pull your wallet out, Nico’s hand landing on your hands. 

“I’m not letting you pay for it, Nico,” you whisper, trying to keep your disagreement out of ear shot of the sales attendant. 

“Yes, you are. It doesn’t have to mean whatever you’re thinking, just let me buy the fucking dress,” Nico mutters, his voice carrying an unusually stern tone. 

“Okay,” you whisper, eyes widening, stepping back as you watch Nico pull his wallet out and pay for the dress. He carries the bag for you, silence falling between you until you were outside, away from the sanctity of the boutique. 

“What’s your problem?” you snap, standing next to Nico’s car, watching him set the bag down into the backseat. 

“What?” Nico asks with a loud sigh, slamming the car door a little harder than necessary. 

“I don’t know...you’re mad at me for not dating you and-.”

“I’m not mad at you for not dating me,” Nico interrupts. “I’m mad that we are dating and you refuse to admit it.”

“We’re not together,” you state definitively, arms crossed over your chest. 

“Okay, whatever, then this is done,” Nico mutters, shaking his head. “Get in the car.”

“I want to go home,” you tell him, yanking the car door open. 

“Well that’s where I’m taking you,” Nico grumbles, sliding into the driver’s seat of the car. 

The drive back to your apartment is silent, your eyes focused directly ahead of you, the drive seeming longer than you had remembered. Nico pulls into the parking lot, turning the car around so that your side of the car was facing the door, something he had done since the first time he dropped you off at home. Opening the door you slip out, glancing back to find Nico handing you the bag with the dress. 

“I don’t want the fucking dress, Nico. I’m not doing this anymore.”

He nods slowly, your words sinking in. “Well what am I going to do with it? Just take it.”

Sighing you reach over, taking the bag from him, knowing it would be easier than continuing to argue about it. “Alright, well,” you mutter, glancing around. “Goodbye…I guess.”

“Bye,” Nico replies, voice strained, eyes barely meeting yours. 

You shut the door slowly, walk into your apartment even slower, knowing that if you really did leave it like that it was a big statement. A big statement you weren’t even sure you wanted to be making. But you keep going, till you’re up in your apartment and your eyes are filling with tears. 

Your best friend Liv is at your apartment shortly after you tell her what had happened, with a couple bottles of wine and take-out.

“I just don’t get it,” Liv says, sitting on the couch with half a glass of red wine in her hand. “You like him, you two are always together, going on dates. Why won’t you just let him in? Make it official?”

Shrugging you swirl the wine around in your glass, swallowing heavily as another round of tears form in your eyes. “Because I said I wouldn’t, Liv. I promised myself, I would experience things, I would figure myself out before getting into a real relationship.”

“But you’re not doing that,” Liv points out. “You keep saying you don’t want anything serious but you’ve been, what, casually dating this guy for like a year and a half? When’s the last time you went on a date with anyone else?”

Shrugging you try to think back, try to remember the last time you actually even seriously entertained the idea of a date with another man. “I don’t know, last year, I guess.”

“When’s the last time you hooked up with anyone other than him?”

“Liv, I don’t know. It’s been awhile, I get it,” you exclaim, sighing loudly. “I’m scared.”

“Scared of what?” Liv asks, voice gentle and reassuring despite your outburst. “You’ve always been scared of getting hurt. But if you don’t let yourself be with someone you’re never going to even have the opportunity for what else could happen.”

“No,” you whisper, wiping away a few tears that had pooled under your eyes. “I’m scared that I pushed him away…for good this time.”

Liv reaches over, placing her hand on your leg. “You’ve been doing this for a year, I don’t think this has to be the last time…if you’re actually going to let him in this time. But if you’re not, if you’re still not ready, maybe it should be for good.”

Liv stays with you for most of the night, watching reality tv and finishing off the wine she had brought over. You didn’t talk much more about Nico, wanting to get your mind off of the situation for awhile, to let yourself calm down. 

You contemplated reaching out to Nico. From hours after to days after. But you didn’t know what to say and he wasn’t saying anything either. So you didn’t say anything at all, till you were only a couple days away from the NHL Awards and all you could think about was Nico telling you that he wanted you to be there to support him. 

Pulling your phone out you scroll through your contacts, finding the one you were looking for and pressing the call button. 

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Hey, um, if I book a flight to Nashville and a hotel and everything can you bring me with you on Monday?” 

“To the awards?”

“Yeah.”

“No. What the hell? You’ve been fucking with Nico’s feelings for so long and now you’re going to try to come with me instead?”

“No, that’s not what I mean, Jack,” you mumble, tears welling in your eyes. “I just…I want to be there for him, I can’t miss it, Jack, I can’t. I fucked up, I know I’ve been a shitty person to him and I don’t know how I can change that but I need to see him and I need him to know that I care and I don’t want to lose him and-.”

“Okay,” Jack exclaims, cutting you off. “Holy shit, yeah, okay, you can come. Are you okay?”

“I don’t know,” you admit, pulling your knees to your chest, staring across the living room at the dark TV, your reflection looking back at you. “I love him, Jack.”

“But you don’t want to be with him.”

“I do.”

“You need to tell him that then. I’ll text you later, okay?”

“Thank you, Jack.”

“Of course. But you really need to figure this out with him because I can’t handle being in the middle of you two fighting.”

“I will.”

You woke up extra early the morning of the awards. Not on purpose, you had an entire day to get ready. But you were too anxious to stay asleep. So you pulled yourself out of bed and tried to spread out the process of getting ready through the day so you wouldn’t have much time to ruminate on everything alone in the quiet hotel room. 

Finally you’re heading down the elevator after what felt like the longest day of your life to meet Jack out front on the way to the arena. 

“You look good,” Jack tells you as you pull your seatbelt on, adjusting your dress. 

“Thanks,” you whisper, your mind so preoccupied with Nico that you were barely registering anything that was happening around you. 

When you get to the venue your stomach is churning with so much anxiety you begin to worry you might throw up. “I don’t know what to say to him,” you admit as you walk next to him. 

“Sorry might be a good start.”

“Yeah,” you whisper, more to yourself than to anyone else. You force a few deep breaths into your lungs as you follow Jack, till you’re standing just a few feet away from Nico. When your eyes meet you can visibly see the confusion flash across his face, eyes darting between you and Jack. 

“What?” Nico begins, Jack stepping back as he says it. 

“I’m not getting in the middle of this,” Jack says, hurrying off in the other direction to leave you alone with Nico. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, voice shaky. “I’m so sorry, Nico. I shouldn’t have pushed you away so much. And maybe this is too little, too late, I don’t know, but I want to be here for you. You can tell me to go, I understand if you don’t want me here.”

“Of course I want you here,” Nico tells you, reaching over and taking your hand, tugging you closer. “I just can’t keep doing this. I want to be with you, I want this to be real and if not-.”

“I want that too,” you whisper, shaky fingers clutching at Nico’s arms. 

“What? Why? Why now?” Nico asks, shaking his head in disbelief. 

“Because I realized how stupid I’ve been. I was scared, I was holding onto this idea that I needed to figure something out before I let myself get into a relationship,” you tell him, trying so hard to come up with words that would explain everything, make everything okay. “I was waiting for something, some revelation or something, but I don’t even know what I was waiting for because I don’t want anything else, I just want to be with you and I’m sorry that I didn’t just accept that earlier. I shouldn’t have made you wait like this.”

Nico nods as he listens to your rambling explanation, watching your eyes welling with tears. When you finish talking Nico pulls you into him, pressing his lips to the top of your head. “I would have waited as long as you needed.”

Sniffling you pull back, wiping away the tears from your eyes before they could roll onto your cheeks. “Sorry, I shouldn’t be crying like this,” you say with nervous laugh. “I, um, I don’t know what to do now…we’re here to celebrate you, how…where…what happens now?”

Nico chuckles quietly, leaning down and pressing his lips to yours gently. “Just stay with me, you don’t need to worry about anything else.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you say, taking Nico’s hand in yours, moving to his side. “I love you,” you whisper. 

Nico glances down at you, his lips curling into a smile. “I love you too.”

[deadend-if]

This is just to give you guys a better idea about the game!

Where is this taking place?

The MC, A, and S will start in the city they live in together. M will also be there, but you won't meet K until Chapter One starts (sorry). Once Chapter One starts the rest of the game will be in the underworld!

The underworld? Which one?

Great question!!! All of them!!! I have taken my inspiration from... so many things. I'm sure there is a depiction out there similar to mine, nothing is original or something? It will get explained in the game but it can't hurt to give a little summary of it! The underworld is surprisingly easy to reach if you know where to look. The old doors are deep within catacombs and cave systems, but in the modern world, it becomes a problem to bring massive amounts of souls down twisting tunnels and tight passageways. So, when the subway system was implemented in big cities around the world, the denizens of the dead decided it worked for them, too. The underworld became the city of the dead, built with skyscrapers that reach toward no sky, and streetlights that have no stars to outshine. At the lowest level, souls are in turmoil, writhing in memories of people and tasks they left behind. The highest point is occupied by misty, formless wisps who have left behind everything they knew and loved to seek an audience with the Council of Rot. It's a crooked city of souls that linger on the cusp of something new, or something old. Hardly anyone knows what happens after the dead are done being, well, dead.

What kind of customization will the MC have?

You'll be able to choose your name, pronouns, gender identity (trans or not), hair color and length, eye color, height, college major, room/apartment decoration/general style, and smaller details like tattoos, freckles, glasses, etc. MC will also have different job options, though limited, along with some choices on their backstory, mostly focused on death and family dynamics. You can choose why S has a rivalry with MC, one-sided or not. I am also adding a childhood pet choice! And if you ever have an idea on something small to add to the customization feel free to let me know! I'll do my best to accommodate it, but I'm still not great with twine lol...

What are the non-customizable features of MC?

There will be limited choices for your background, job, and rivalry, but I'm hoping to leave a lot of options on the table for your MCs. That being said, your MC will always have a neutral-to-good relationship with A and a neutral-to-bad relationship with S at the beginning of the story. You will also have a set age (27) for various reasons. There might be more later, but I want to keep a lot of options on the table for you guys. The ending may seem a bit rail-roady (I don't know 100% yet) so I want to leave a lot of wiggle room for other things.

Personality Stats? Skill checks?

Yeah, so there won't really be "skill checks" in the typical sense, whoops. This story will have personality choices and some other variables that will change the game, but there won't be any failing/passing checks or rolling dice. MC's personality stats will affect flavor text and it will be the classic types like stoic, cheerful, shy, bold, etc. Your most game-changing stats are going to be MC's feelings on death and attachment to living. You determine A's fate, and maybe everyone else's, too. Who knows? :)

On the topic of NSFW and RO asks

The main reason I'm not including NSFW in this IF is because I genuinely don't think it would fit well in the plot at any point. That plus the fact that I, myself, am asexual... I don't think I could even begin to do it justice lol. It would be just... cringe guys, you wouldn't even want it. I can't really say anything though, I'm writing romance while also aromantic :/ I intend to keep this blog and the story away from anything NSFW. While I, personally, don't care about those asks, I want to create a space without NSFW topics. I'm also wary of people asking NSFW questions about asexual characters (Mortimer/A). Romance/SFW asks/scenarios/prompts about worldbuilding or ROs are totally fine, and I will be sososo happy to answer them.

Updates and Timeframe

Guys... I hate to break it to you... but I may be slow on the updates (shocking, I know). I want to write as much as I can, but I am also a college student writing this on a whim. I love this story, I've been thinking about it and scribbling ideas for it for about 2 years now. I don't want to abandon it, but there may be long stretches of silence sometimes. I WILL say something if it goes on hiatus or goes dark completely, I won't leave you hanging! This story will go through a lot of changes, I change my mind about things all the time, so you may be getting a lot of random updates of me changing (seemingly) unimportant things, sorry in advance. Lowkey might take years to write this :)

This will update with time! :D

[wren-of-the-woods]

I hear you're where to go for Witcher fic recs! How about some with Geralt being protective over Jaskier? Shippy, if you can find any, but I wouldn't mind platonic! I just want Geralt to look out for his bard. Thank you for your time!

Hello!! Here's what I've got! There's a wide variety of settings and levels of angst, so hopefully there should be something for everone :D

As always, please feel free to add more recs or promote your own work in the notes!

~

Don't Leave Me by @geraskierficrecs (Rated M, 6.2k)

Jaskier’s hands tighten around Geralt before slowly losing their grip, spasming where they fall limp. “Ger--geralt--” “Don’t you dare,” he snarls back, “Don’t you dare try to give me your fucking goodbyes. You are not dying.” “S--silly man.” Jaskier’s smile is full of painful fondness. “Would you fight death for me?” Geralt swings him up into his arms and nearly weeps at the sound of familiar hooves running in his direction. “Every. Fucking. Time.”

If You Give a Bard a Lute by @ghostinthelibrarywrites (Rated T, 10k)

After Jaskier’s father disowns him, confiscates all his possessions— including Filavandrel’s lute— and kicks him out with nothing but the clothes on his back, Jaskier spends a long, hungry winter barely surviving. When he reunites with Geralt in the spring, his witcher is determined to get his lute back, even if it means recruiting his fellow witchers to stage a heist.

Wild Blue Yonder by @jaskierswolf (Rated T, 5.3k)

Geralt's bookshop is slowly falling apart and he's ready to give up when Jaskier wanders into the store

remember me I sing by @echo-bleu (Rated G, 3.1k - also includes Yennnefer)

Filavandrel's gift was so much more than a simple lute. It seemed fitting, that Jaskier’s soul would be made of wood and strings and beautiful sounds. The problem is that now Rience has his lute and is threatening to burn it if they don't hand over Ciri. And Jaskier has never told anyone that his very life is tied to his beloved instrument.

This Is How I Disappear by @stacyholmes (Rated T, 5.4k)

Jaskier keeps texting unknown number. Geralt keeps reading said texts without answering.

The Footsteps We Follow by thiswildheart (Rated T, 16.5k)

Look, Jaskier's got a lot going on. He's painfully aware that there are cataclysmic events happening and that the troubled teenager he knows might save the world or speed along the end of days. He's also in love with a man who's never even admitted that they're friends, which is almost as bad. Oh, and he's still working as the Sandpiper, only now a terrifying eldritch creature has entrusted him with the Song of the Seven to give hope to the elves and help them fight back against their oppression. It's probably the bravest thing he's ever done, but not everyone sees it that way. Luckily he knows some people who excel at last minute rescues. ... then he just has to figure out how to tell Geralt why so many people are trying to kill him. This is going to go great.

Getting Warmer (orphaned) (Rated T, 8.2k) 

Injured and freezing after a kikimora hunt gone wrong, Geralt and Jaskier must wait out a thunderstorm at the bottom of a cliff, huddling for warmth. It is here that Geralt finally confronts his feelings for the bard.

Jaskier and Mountains Just Don't Mix by C4t1l1n4 (Rated G, 3.8k)

Despite the other Witchers' positive reaction to Geralt's bard, Vesemir is reluctant to have a human stay with them at Kaer Morhen so Jaskier attempts to leave and ends up almost freezing to death on the side of the mountain. Hypothermia fic

Immediately, I Love Him (He's Doing His Best) by @hum-my-name (Rated G, 26.5k)

"In which Greg is some sort of guardian angel, I don't know" <><> A few days ago, Joey Batey did an interview in which he created a lovely little character named Greg. A few days ago, I decided to write a cute little thing about Greg and Jaskier being the best of friends throughout the years, with a dash of Geralt and Jaskier friendship as a treat. 13k words later, here we are. Enjoy.

Broken Mirror by happy_hermit (Rated G, 2.1k) 

To Geralt’s credit, he waits until they’re well away from Kaer Morhen to ask the question. He also waits until Yennefer and Ciri have gone to bed, which makes the whole thing feel a bit too calculated for Jaskier’s liking, which is to say that he doesn’t like it at all. “Where’s your lute, Jaskier?” Jaskier doesn’t quite flinch, though his heart does something of the sort all on its own. It is very much a wound that hasn’t healed; as is most of him, these days.

Echo by @kingthunder (Rated E, 29.5k)

Jaskier loses his voice the morning after a concert. As he and Geralt find new ways to fill the silence between them, they realize it isn't only Jaskier's voice that's been lost—and getting it back will bring them closer than they've ever been before.

If There's Any Sleep At Night by @smolalienbee (Rated T, 22.8k)

The mare is but a silhouette of a human and yet at his words something passes through her expression - whether it’s surprise, joy, fear, Geralt doesn’t know. But it’s clear that what he said has struck her in some way. (“She is not some mindless monster, Geralt.” He remembers Jaskier’s words.) A mare, also known as a mara or a zmora - a malicious entity, a bringer of nightmares and a demon of the night. An easy enough contract to fulfill, if only frustrating, or at least that’s what Geralt believes when he first sets out to hunt down one such mare. What he doesn’t expect is to be wrapped up in a tale of a wronged soul, of love and of joy.

Also, because I'm not above reccing my own fics, here's a few I've written!

Wash Away the Blood and Tears by me (Rated T, 1.8k)

Jaskier re-injures his fingers while distracting Nilfgaard from Ciri. Afterward, Geralt volunteers to help wash his hair. Or: In which Jaskier gets a bath and a nap, and Geralt gets a new role in the group.

We'll Build a Den Out of Pillows (And Get Drunk Again) by me (Rated G, 2k)

Jaskier gets sick. When Geralt asks how to help, Jaskier jokingly suggests that he build a pillow fort. He does not expect Geralt to take it seriously. Geralt takes it seriously.

~

If you want more, there’s a Protective Geralt tag on AO3 that I’m sure has many lovely works I haven’t read!

(You can also find my other reclists here)

[sepal-sea]

I don't think zepotha is actually bad in the way ppl (on tumblr) think it is.

Ok so goncharov functions pretty much exactly like a real movie might. Chances are, if you weren't given context to the meme, you would legitimately think this obscure homoerotic mafia movie rocketed to internet fame by shipping obsessed tumblrites was real, because it's totally plausible! It's not a shallow meme either, people legitimately posted about it in the in-depth and realistic way an online fandom would post about it, even disagreeing or having bad takes about it. Goncharov is basically the acting-out of any other tumblr fandom but now with a movie that doesn't exist. Because tumblr is a text-based platform it's really easy to line out this kind of analysis and fan behavior, and to agree on an accepted canon. Goncharov is remarkably centralized, and bits of "canon" rarely go against each other, and instead add to each other. You could easily make a real movie out of the accepted canon.

Zepotha, meanwhile, shows only the most shallow understanding of it's genre or potential fanbase. It's all "you look like this girl" and "this reminds me of this scene". It doesn't feel like a legitimate fanbase. But I think that's not inaccurate to how things that are popular on tiktok function. An obscure horror movie rocketed to tiktok fame would one hundred percent have a fandom largedly composed of only the most surface-level, visual aspects of it (of course with a small group of freaks posting the most insanely detailed videos ever about it). In that way, the trick functions exactly as intended. Also, with tiktok being a video-based platform that is of course going to predispose ppl to the most visual elements of fan culture. That's not the main reason zepotha is worse though, because videos about zepotha were not actually the main form of content on tiktok. Commenting was. Even though zepotha SHOULD be more centralized, as it WAS actually organized by one person, it's not, precisely because it was based around commenting and spreading the meme. This makes it hard to find a solid line of "canon", as comments are attached to videos which are basically impossible to neatly string together and follow along with. That's why there was so much conflicting confirmation; there were a bunch of different "the girl"s in zepotha, a ton of different "the scene"s, but anything past that was unexplored. this is the reason I think that zepotha is worse, but it's also not really anyone's fault-this would have happened due to the medium no matter what. I still think it was really cool and fun how people decided to join in on this meme, and I don't think it's necessarily a bad thing that it was being used to market a song. I appreciate the purity of goncharov as a labor of love, but I also don't think zepotha being a marketing scheme automatically makes it bad. Artists need all the help they can get, and it's nice that this person managed to make a viral meme that actually helped their song, entirely based on a fake horror movie bit. I probably would have thought zepotha was really funny and cool if goncharov didn't already exist (and was way better).

TLDR: it's not zepotha's fault it's worse than goncharov, it's tiktok's fault. Also, zepotha isn't even that bad, it's just not as good as goncharov, and we're overly defensive bc we see it as a cheap knockoff

[howlsofbloodhounds]

Delta anon back again to add onto the previous headcanon of mine.

(Tw: s/h)

I absolutely love the idea that Killer would go to help. I think that at that point, they'd be so confused and disoriented that they'd just quietly let Killer help, barely even recognizing that it's Killer who's helping them. Being fully dissociated to recognize the pain or who's near him, unable to tell if they're in danger or not.

I'd imagine that after Delta got fixed up, Killer would probably head out, not used to helping Delta since they're not exactly on the best terms and also just simply not knowing what to do or say. But, knowing that Color (and Epic obviously, but Killer is more worried about Color) would be worried, Killer runs off and explains to them what had happened, including the burn.

But I'm still curious of how you think Color and Epic would react, especially that Delta/Beta hurt themselves, and especially if Killer actually helped them. Would Color and Epic try to help once whichever one of them got attacked is okay? Would Delta/Beta allow themselves to be helped, or would he hide, too afraid to let them see him, unsure if they can trust themselves around their friends?

But by the time Color and Epic (and maybe even Killer, because as much as he'd hate to admit it, he's concerned for Delta/Beta atm), would Delta have taken off the bandages by then? Would they have hurt themselves again, unsure what else they could do other than try to put themselves through the same pain - or maybe even more - that he put his friends through? Would they now be in even worse shape than Killer first found them in? How bad would it be?

I think itd be funny if like after cleaning up and dealing with any of delta’s wounds, killer just stares at them for a moment and tries to determine what they’re going to do next. If they’ve shown a tendency towards self harm in the past, and killer himself definitely has, he’d be smart enough to know not to leave them alone.

I’m betting this depends a lot on if he actually cares or not, and what exactly he’s caring about. He might think to just pick them up and take them back to Color and Epic, regardless of if that’s what they want or not, and a part of him would remind Killer of what Color has taught him. Others are allowed to say no and assert boundaries, even in situations where they need medical care, and he should respect that.

But also a much more vocal part might not care at all, would probably be fine letting delta kill himself, he should be getting back to color. something along those lines.

so maybe he just comprises by taking out his phone and texting color where he and delta is, explaining what happened. i have no idea if delta and killer would try to make any talk while they wait, although killer might be more distracted by what’s going on inside his own head to care anymore about delta.

so long as delta isnt harming himself anymore, then he did his part of looking after color’s friends, now he just needs to focus more on stamping the urge to kill delta lmao.

when epic and color finally get there, epic will most definitely crack a joke while killer walks right past him to go check on color again.

but ultimately if killer decides he’s done his part and doesn’t care to engage anymore, decides to go find color again, then delta probably would engage in some form of self punishment if they’re feeling that bad about it. perhaps even unintentionally, as a stress stim like scratching at the bandages. maybe killer would leave Zorox with them, and the poor puppy would desperately try to get them to stop. (maybe zorox led killer to where delta and beta were hiding in the first place)

i do think he’d want to hide, but hiding from your mistakes makes one weak and cowardly, right. so he might force himself to “be brave” and stay and wait.

i don’t think either Color or Epic would be upset or afraid of Delta and Beta, they hang around Cross and Killer—literal murderers. Color has dealt with Killer and his Stages many times, and came out injured pretty badly before. so i think that’s mainly what they’ll focus on; showing delta and beta that they aren’t hurt or scared, the injury either wasn’t that bad or already healing.

ultimately i think the talk might be led into a conversation about what made them so mad in the first place, and help them try to talk about it. maybe itll end with them all watching The Lion King, having a movie night and cuddle sesh.

[queers-gambit]

I wanted to start writing fics and I have an idea of one I’d want to write but I’m unsure of even where to start. Could you please tell me how your process helps you? Any advice would be greatly appreciate!

Thank you!

hey, cutie pie! what a special message you've sent me. i'm feeling incredibly honored - whether you sent this message or not as a compliment, i don't wanna know, this could-be delusion is very flattering. you think i'm a well enough writer to ask advice from? 10 points to Slytherin.

it was Ernest Hemingway who said, “there is nothing to writing. all you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.”

unfortunately, i'm one of those people that says, "just start writing". i know this is like throwing you in the ocean without a life vest, but i hope i can teach you how to swim (or at the least, tread water) by breaking this down enough for yah.

please note i am NOT a professional - so everything below is to be taken with a grain of salt

first - welcome to the author community! where we all think we have to publish Pulitzer prize winning stories - every. single. time! and where we think our work is TRASH - every. single. time!

storytelling is a skill that you don't have to be "born with", but you do have to practice and experiment with. even seasoned writers need palette refreshers and to "return to the story drawing board." to me, writing is universally one of the greatest artistic mediums this world will ever know. stories transcend time; think folklore and mythology that date way way way back Before Christ (BC). stories can (mostly) only be built upon and altered - just look at the Bible! written text, yes, but it's diluted by X number of "translations" through the years, scholars, people, factions, economies.

anyways. i think it's REALLY cool you want to write and i honestly love that for you. i hope it's as beneficial to you as it is me.

best piece of advice i can give? be proud of yourself. confidence really shows through writing; it's not being arrogant or cocky, it's knowing you have a story to tell and being determined to tell it. trust me, that energy translates. when you're happy to write, audiences are happy to read; nobody is ever expecting you (or any fanfic writer) to be Chaucer or Shakespeare or Brontë or Poe or Fitzgerald or Tolstoy or Tolkien or Dickens or Eliot or Morrison, they want YOU to be YOU and to read YOUR story.

so have faith in yourself. have pride. find motivation and inspiration.

🍒 general rules of thumb

🍒 write everything down!

it doesn't matter where - just write! every! thing! down! write in a: -> Word document -> Tumblr draft -> good ol' fashioned pen and paper -> Sharpie and cafe napkin and for my Apple people: -> the notes app or Pages document

🍒 always write out the plot - doesn't matter if it's complete, just write it down! it's a tool, and trust me, when writing, think of it as your ankle being shattered and this written plot document is the crutch. it's extremely important to have a general idea of what your story's plot looks like so you can decide what details should be used to beef up the story's authenticity. this will help visualize the web you need to weave. it's a visual end goal. it's the reminder where your story is going. give yourself enough space to add to this idea, to expand it.

i prefer bullet points. experiment to find what works for you!

so, in a structure similar to educational notes, establish the general premise / main idea / main details. this is where you're going to answer (no, not literally), "why write this story? what's the point? what even IS the story? like, what's the plot?" -> if you ponder why you're writing a story and at any point, the answer is along the lines of being self indulgent, please understand, that is valid! write that shit!

🍒 notes are a safe space to write out ideas you might be interested in revisiting. so label everything because you'll revisit often - whether for the next story idea or not.

🍒 Google ― -> what you know to strengthen literary frame. allow this to include refreshment of writing devices. -> any and all words; keep a list of running adjectives, nouns, dramatic diction to give your story personality. -> definitions - even the words you already know! -> what you don't know! -> synonyms!

🍒 don't pay attention to word counts! 5k word fics are just as valid as 1.3k, even 896 word fics! fuck word counts, just tell the story.

🍒 write and rewrite. this is where writing becomes daunting, it's so fucking scary. but all you're doing is trying to find your voice, so write your drafts, then rewrite - rewrite - rewrite - and for good measure, rewrite, rewrite, aaaaand probably rewrite twice more. just allow yourself room to stretch and grow as an author when new and altered ideas come to mind - and when these new and altered ideas come to mind, write! them! down!

🍒 writing is supposed to be fun! 🍒 writing supports your emotional vulnerability! 🍒 be open to inspiration everywhere! 🍒 give yourself time and be kind! 🍒 encourage changes of thought and new directions! 🍒 don't minimize yourself to conform with what is "thought" to fit certain criteria - take authentic risks!

🍒 nonlinear and chaotic writing process

🍒 so... kinda first thing is done internally:

what's the plot? what was the idea formed in my head, inspiring me to write this story? what's the climax? is this idea able to turn into a story? -> i write it down.

which fandom? does my story idea fit into "canon timelines" or the fandom's setting? more or less, i determine if this is an AU or not. -> i write it down.

declare a muse i think BEST suits my story idea. -> i write it down (call that commitment).

now, i like to beef up the plot / climax details, either after the initial idea or establishment of muses. these are the nonnegotiable "dramatic factors" i think the story needs. -> i write it down.

🍒 then i just start writing the actual draft / structured story. i know, i know, i know! this is the worst advice and lots of authors say it. but it just means to start! it means you can start anywhere. it's your story, you're telling it - so you can literally just start because a story can grow in all directions.

🍒 personally, i use the fuck out of skeleton drafts (see below) because i like to revisit and build, restructure, and let seemingly random ideas take natural form almost every single time i sit down to write (which, for the sake of my mental health, is almost everyday).

🍒 i endeavor for mysterious, captivating, intriguing opening sentences or paragraphs and titles. so i'm constantly editing and Googling words, definitions, synonyms, phrases.

🍒 i draw inspiration from everywhere; sometimes from personal conversation and experiences, other books, quotes from movies and songs.

🍒 i strive for authenticity - i personally think it's what hooks an audience, when they can see even the SMALLEST fraction of themself in the story. so i challenge myself to get criminally vulnerable and open - so a lot of my trauma is processed through writing, too.

🍒 i like to employ common literary devices, such as metaphors, proverbs, iteration, personification. but that's a personal choice.

🍒 i often draft the story and then leave it for a bit to "marinate" because at the most random and often, inopportune, times, i'll have new ideas i want to add. so i leave myself time to revisit which can get frustrating, but it's necessary for my security to publish.

🍒 dialogue is "just conversation with a purpose". when writing dialogue, i often say the words in my head OR (as embarrassing as it might sound) out loud with the chracter's accents and TRY to convey that in my writing. so i use a lot of slang or incomplete sentences or predicates or accents - in the form of dropping the "g" from a lot of "-ing" ending words.

🍒 I DO NOT CONDONE THIS NOR ENCOURAGE THIS! but i'm a fiend and smoke a LOT. and i drink an unhealthy amount of coffee - so that def influences my writing whether i like it or not. this is 1000000% a personal choice and in no way, shape, or form am i encouraging anyone to smoke and / or give themselves kidney stones for the sake of writing.

🍒 i'm decently selective about my stories, in the sense of if i truly cannot connect or find influence to write, i won't. i can't. so i've been doing better about if a plot doesn't flow the way i want, i try not to force it and embrace the new direction. 🍒 HOWEVER - i still like to challenge myself, so, if i find writing has become like pulling teeth, i'll walk away and revisit at another time. i'll try to tackle from a different angle BEFORE giving up completely. yikes.

🍒 being said, walk away when writing feels frustrating and exasperated.

🍒 real life experience is your friend - "write what you know".

🍒 i'm criminally insecure and don't use beta readers nor editors so i rawdog every story and audience reaction. but i hear they're wildly helpful!!! do what feels right!!! it's your art!!!

🍒 skeleton drafts

when in school, teachers, professors, educators might have students structure essays as a "draft". maybe they asked for paragraphs to be organized in a certain way - intro., x3 body paragraphs, conclusion, bibliography - and more specifically, the paragraph structure: opening sentence stating summarized opinion / reason for thesis support, supporting specifics that explain the thesis, and then conclude on a summary of why the listed support supports the thesis.

whatever it is, i don't adhere to some parameters. i've always pissed off my educators because my "working drafts" never made sense, but whatever "final draft" turned in for a grade, did! make it make sense!

so i use "skeleton drafts".

it's where i try to outline the main ideas of my plot to ensure i tell the story i originally thought of. think of these as "plot points", almost like the ribcage of a skeleton. then i add certain supporting details between these ribs; the meat of the story.

i like getting the majority of the story outlined. i use bullet points, i try to use "dividers" or "headers" if i need a time jump, but i want the general idea down so that it's easier to add onto later if i so choose.

so, yeah, i don't "draft" as some American educators might approve of. the actual process is too tedious and i hate it. but that's just me. other authors MIGHT recommend traditional drafting, but i won't. i say do what feels natural to you, but still find a way to rewrite the story you want until it BECOMES the story you want.

"skeleton drafts" establish the plot and pose as major pillars to help propel the story's flow. "skeleton drafts" are like a check list: being the plot points framing the story's structure, as well as details (no matter how small) the story needs.

being said - using skeleton drafts results in a few different draft / note pages in different places so tread carefully. it can get very confusing and annoying, so, it's not for everyone. i'm just chaotic and all my writings are like a tornado.

i hope this helps in even the slightest of ways. thank you for sending your message - again, i'm deeply flattered. i apologize it took so long to respond but i was doubting myself and what to write.

listen, poppet. keep writing. try, try again. challenge yourself. and the VERY best of luck! i hope you fall in love with writing, and in turn, it falls in love with you!

come back anytime! if you so desire, please, send me whatever you write - i'd love to read it!

endless forehead kisses and all my love 🖤

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA for using Venmo to try to get in touch with an old friend?

So my best friend in college is a nonbinary (they/them) person I’ll call Cee. We got along great and never had any sort of big arguments or any kind of falling out. That being said, after college we sort of fell out of contact, just with how life works and all that.

Over the past several months, I’ve texted Cee a few times trying to get back in touch. I initially sent them one “hello again” type of text, basically telling them that I miss them and wanted to know how they’re doing. I didn’t get any reply to that, but afterwards I did send them a couple “happy holidays” messages whenever those holidays came around, hoping that maybe Cee would eventually reply, but those didn’t get any response either.

Normally this would lead me to think that they don’t want to talk with me anymore, but I don’t really know why they’d do that since we were such good friends. Cee also has issues with ADHD, so forgetting to reply to text messages or not noticing them at all isn’t out of the norm for them- even when we were talking, I never expected them to consistently reply to my texts. It’s also possible that they might’ve gotten a new phone and phone number since I last saw them, meaning my texts might not be sending at all.

In any other scenario I would’ve stopped texting and tried to get in touch through social media, but Cee doesn’t have any. They tried to make Instagram or Twitter accounts in college, but ended up deleting them within a couple weeks. The only app I know that they use is Venmo, a money exchange app that isn’t *really* social media, but does allow you to add messages to any money exchanges you make on it.

So I had the idea to message Cee using Venmo. My plan is to send Cee an inconsequential amount of money through the app (like $1) with a message attached asking how they’re doing and if we’re still friends. My issue is that I don’t want Cee to feel like they’re being bribed to talk to me or like they *must* respond simply because money’s involved. I also don’t want to come across like obsessive or whatever if it turns out that Cee did just intentionally decide to ghost me- I’d be bummed out that we’re no longer friends, but no one’s obligated to be friends with me.

So WIBTA if I sent my friend a message through Venmo to try and get in touch again?

What are these acronyms?