#and my mama has been nice enough to be buying most of my food when I usually buy my own just bc it's hard for me to walk around much rn

[blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk]

tomorrow is my first day back to work and I'm a lil nervous

I haven't been able to get anything written for here bc I've been trying to get a couple other things written (updating my Bill Cipher redemption fic and starting a Gyutaro x reader x Daki because I make poor life choices)

but I'm on light duty for a month, basically just sitting at the register checking people out, unable to do any stocking or anything bc I'm not allowed to lift anything over 15 pounds so I can't lift totes, bend much, or reach much, so I'm allowed to bring something to do in between customers... maybe I'll get some writing done? I feel as if I'll be slacking off bc that's how my brain works

but you know what, I kill myself for that store normally, I don't work full time simply because I can't afford medical insurance if I did, but even working only part time I give my all while I'm there, I'm not someone who slacks off. so if I'm healthfully and approvedly permitted to slack off and take it easy for a month, I guess I'll take it (... plus, I mean, I'll still be working, just light duty, it's not like I'll show up and get paid to do ABSOLUTELY NOTHING, I'm still gonna be ringing out customers)

ANYWAY MY POINT IS-

get those last requests in! after I get home from work tomorrow, I'll be closing the askbox and won't open it back up till this batch is finished and I swear I mean that this time 😂

[rosantha-tindall]

Today has been A Day, and so I feel the need to tell you all about it.

While on gate duty, I could hear A Noise that sounded like a cat. Then a nice dog came to see me. Then the dog head The Noise and went to go see and I was like, 'fuck, better find that before she does.'

It was a kitten. (Kitten)

Kitten was friendly, so I scooped it up and messaged Cat Loving Coworker, who came out to see it then nipped to the shop and bought it some food. It was hungry. So was the Nice Dog. Also, turned out Nice Dog was actually Mama Dog.

Cat Loving Coworker wanted to leave kitten to see if its mum came back, so we stuck it in a box where I found it. But he also mentioned Coworker A had borrowed his cat carrier and he'd need it back to take kitten anywhere.

We stopped by a few time to check on kitten, and then kitten vanished. But I decided to go and buy Mama Dog some food. So I went to the shop and bought some canned dog food.

Came back and Mama Dog had vanished too. Petted puppies for a bit and showed them to the kids.

Roped in a Thai teacher (more useful than us foreigners) and put puppies in a box.

Students came by to adopt. Puppies look a bit young to me, but they also weren't in an ideal situation (under a part of the building filled with trash/wood).

(Potats)

Had to teach. Came back and all found potats were adopted. But guess who was found? KITTEN.

Turned out, 2nd Cat Friendly Coworker and the same teacher that helped with the puppies had picked him up, and Thai teacher's cousin wanted to adopt.

But oh no! Kitten could *climb.* He could climb from his tall cardboard box. Teacher was like 🤔

Coworker A was in the office, so I asked if she lived close enough to fetch Cat Loving Coworker's cat carrier. She did! So I held Kitten and Thai teacher took CA home to get the carrier.

Thai teacher had to teach, so Kitten stayed in the carrier for a bit. Then CLC came back to the office and we played with Kitten because he cried when in the carrier. Some students came by to play with him.

We told the students to come back and tell us if they saw Mama Dog. They did. So I took food for Mama Dog. She ate one of the big cans in like a minute flat so I had to fetch her more. While I was gone, CLC and Student found two more puppies in the den. We've left them there for now for Mama Dog, though I did take some more students to see them.

Then some students came to fetch me for my last class early and I could finally finish and go home.

All in all, what even was today?

Note 1: Kitten was *very* friendly when I found him. He backed off when I tried to grab him, but came right to me when I showed him my hands and almost climbed up my arm. We think he was dumped by someone, probably over the long weekend when the school was empty. We did check thoroughly for more, but couldn't find any. Only survivor of the litter maybe?

Note 2: No, CLC didn't mind me lending his cat carrier to Thai teacher. He'd already been talking about using it for Kitten, it seemed like the most feasible solution at the time, and his chances of getting it back from Thai teacher are much higher than getting it from Coworker A (who didn't even initially want to give it to us).

Note 3: I left food and water for Mama dog and have some left in the office. Though it's not going to last as long as I thought!

Note 4: It's on my mind to see if we can get Mama Dog (she's a campus dog) spayed, but we'll have to make sure we're not stepping on toes for that (she wears a collar) and probably enlist help for transport/care/payment.

[sugamamacustard]

Feed Me

Pairing: Alpha! Keiji Akaashi X Omega! Reader, Alpha! Wakatoshi Ushijima x Omega! Reader, Alpha! Rintaro Suna x Omega! Reader

Genre: Fluff

Request: Ooooo what about when Alphas 🐘 ( maybe akaashi, ushijima, rin and kuroo) find out that their omega has not been eating enough like (their only eating little things like granola bars or fruit) so their upset that they had to find out through someone else and they scold them for that but then their told that they have gain some weight and that gets them even more upset because they think their perfect etc.

Summary: Some times, people do things because it’s what they think is best. You don’t tell your alpha about some weight gain you’ve noticed, and try taking care of it yourself because of this.

Author’s Note: Hey, you. Yeah you. The beautiful person reading this? You are perfect. You are worth it. Your feelings are valid and you shouldn’t feel bad about having them. You are so amazing, and even if I don’t know you, I am so proud of you. You are so strong for making it so far. Keep going. Never change. :) Also your nice comments? Literally my dose of serotonin

did I mention my OC one or twice? Yes. Am I sorry? No. Also, idk if anyone is curious, but Yuka doesn't actually go to Shiritorizawa but whatever.

Requests: Closed!

Buy me a coffee?

Trigger Warning: Mentions of (Semi?) Starvation.

Keiji Akaashi

➵Now, Keiji is pretty on top of omega and significant other care.

➵ Like, weirdly so. It's honestly kind of creepy?

➵ In an endearing way.

➵ He always says 'Bokuto-Kun prepared me in a way.'

➵ Honestly, he loves doing this for you too!

➵He loves caring for you so much.

➵ Like I firmly believe Akaashi's love language is acts of service.

➵ So things like bringing you food, leaving sweet notes in your locker, helping you with your homework.

➵ He lives for doing these things.

➵ Especially feeding you snacks and things.

➵ It made his inner alpha purr because that meant he was caring for you. Providing for you.

➵ Being the very thing that made him worthy of an alpha.

➵ Prove that he could continue being the alpha you needed and wanted.

➵ Unfortunately, there were downsides.

➵ Your hips had the beginnings of small love handles, a little more chub on you tummy, thighs a little squishier.

➵ Let's not lie, Keiji absolutely adored this, by the way.

➵ I also think one of his biggest kinks is praise

➵ He makes sure you know how loved and how perfect you are.

➵ It's sometimes hard to believe him though.

___

"Y/N?"

You hummed an acknowledgment at Keiji's call, typing the final words to your essay before turning to look at your beautiful alpha- Sometimes you questioned how you hooked him. His gorgeous emerald eyes shining with love and adoration.

"I'm gonna go run and pick up some supper, what would you like beloved?" He came up to squeeze and massage your shoulders, leaning down as he pressed a small peck to your temple, your purr a sweet melody to his ears.

You swallowed behind your purr, trying to hide the small panic in your eyes. Your mind instantly flashed to your reflection this morning, how you pinched your hips with a frown. You already had been slowing down on the snacks, and fast food made you shiver.

"I-I'm okay for now, Keiji. Thank you though." You smiled, nonetheless, holding Keiji's cheek in your hand. He quirked a brow, frowning slightly before nodding lowly. Another peck was pressed to your cheek before he left, ordering your favorite from the diner he took you to for your first date.

-

"Beloved, I'm back." Keiji called, once more tearing you away from your essay; you were always thankful for the distraction though. He set down the take out bag, taking out the top box and handing it to you before shrugging off his jacket.

"Keiji? I said I was okay-"

"I didn't believe you. Now come on, you need to take a break and I'm touch starved." The raven didn't even look behind at you before pulling out his own box, dragging your rolley-chair to the bed. He pulled his sweater over his head, handing that to you as well before giving you a sweet peck.

His eyes locked with yours. Your breath hitched. So many silent words swam in his eyes, asking you, demanding you, to tell you what was wrong.

"I just- I've gained a little weight lately and-"

"And? My love, you are just as gorgeous as the day I met you. Nothing is wrong with a little weight, even if I think you're foolish to think you've gained weight. Never think otherwise. Even if you do, let me know, my job as your alpha and boyfriend is to make sure you feel as good as possible no matter what."

He slipped the sweater over your head, rehanding you your meal that he took from you momentarily, running a hand through your hair.

"Your my beautiful omega. Nothing should keep you from your happiness."

Wakatoshi Ushijima

➵Unlike Akaashi, Wakatoshi is little more...Hesitant (In a way) when it comes to omegan care.

➵ He never really learned how to? Ya know?

➵ Both his parents were alphas, and he was never around omegas consistently enough to learn.

➵and it's not like you were a volleyball that he could use the same techniques to up-keep.

➵ He also couldn't ask his team.

➵ Well, he could, but only one other person on his team had an omega. (It was Satori and his advice, though helpful, could only go so far.)

➵ He was doing good though, especially with you holding his hand through the entire thing.

➵ The first time he noticed something was up was when you didn't show up to lunch-- texting him a picture of you in the library, tongue poking out as you held up a peace sign to assure him you were okay.

➵ When he brought it up to Satori, who had his own omega (A small, but fiery brunette named Yuka) leaning on his side as she played some sort of phone game on his phone (Mama's slusheria? He thinks?) .

➵He explained he didn't know what was going on with you while Satori listened with a hum before giving him a sad smile. "Sorry I can't help you further Ushi-waka, but as you can see-" He slid his unfinished lunch towards Yuka, who popped one of the Dango skewers into her mouth without looking up. "I'm not very familiar with the problem."

➵ He offered his help as much as he could nonetheless.

➵ He slowly began to pick up on smaller things, locking them in his steel trap.

➵ Like a good boy :)

➵ He put hours of research into omegas after this (not that he hadn't previously). Keeping strenuous notes beside him.

➵ They were colorful and highlighted :)

➵ And he followed the advice that 'Mommy Luna-boo' posted on the blog he found like a goddamn Mantra. ('Sometimes Omegas need a little more love! Their bodies, especially during high school years, will change a lot! They may feel a little down! As an alpha, make sure you remind them how beautiful they are!')

➵She was mother Theresa and he was her follower.

➵ Well after he followed you.

➵and after he made sure you were feeling better

___

"Omega?"

"Toshi."

Walking into your dorm room, Wakatoshi set down a small bag filled with goodies. He set it down on your bed as he sat down as well, watching you carefully.

When you gave him a small smile with a quirked brow, he took a deep breath, remembering everything Tendou had coached him through.

"Have you been eating enough lately?"

You sucked your tongue at the question, shuffling your shoulders. Truth be told you had been missing out on a few lunches after noting a few extra pounds you hadn't noticed earlier. You never meant to worry him, that was never your intention, but it seemed the world was working against you. You had no clue where to go from here. If you told him the truth that would do nothing but worry him, but lying was never good in any form of relationship.

Your hesitance to tell him was more than enough though, as his larger lands encased your own, holding them tightly.

"Why?" His tone wasn't accusatory nor was it angry in the slightest. Genuine curious if anything. If he could get to the bottom of the root of the problem, he could prevent it from happening in the future. Right?

"I- I just...Noticed a few extra pounds and-"

"That's it?"

You looked up to him with a tilted head, like a lost puppy. "What do you mean that's it?"

Pulling you closer, Wakatoshi effortlessly pulled you onto his lap, using one hand to dig through the bag beside him while the other wrapped around your hips. He pulled out a few of your favorite snacks laying them out in front of you.

"That's, in my opinion, a silly thing to worry about. If you feel that's a big problem, I can offer my services to you in any way you wish-- whether it be support or as help, it is my job to be there for you." He nuzzled your scent gland, voice rumbling against your shoulders.

You purred in response, leaning back onto your alpha.

Rintaro Suna

➵ Suna is a lot like Akaashi in the sense that he has incredible observational skills as an alpha.

➵ His eyes are like sniper scopes.

➵ The minute something is wrong, he's on it.

➵ Like he looks aloof but he's not.

➵ He had notes.

➵ So hiding something from him is not easy at all.

➵ But you two most likely ended up together because you gave him a run for his money.

➵ You made him work at being an alpha.

➵ And he loved you for that.

➵ It did come back to bite him in the ass though.

➵ The only reason he heard about this was because the betas at Inarizaki were loud mouths.

➵ Honestly he learned so much tea from them.

➵ Like this third year was sleeping with a first year because she planned on baby trapping him and-

➵ It was wild.

➵Though most times it was nothing more than a source of entertainment for you and him to laugh about.

➵This time the gossip was actually useful.

➵ He wasn't thrilled they were talking about you, but provided some very useful information.

➵ And he was set into action.

➵ typing a few things onto his phone he set out to find you.

___

"Rin, I said I'm not hungry-"

"I know and I'm making the executive decision to ignore you."

He squinted his eyes at the carefully written instructions in front of him, sending a silent thanks to Atsumu's mate Haruka. (;)) She had written a step by step instruction sheet to making Onigiri while also dropping off all the ingredients (Pre-prepped). The only reason she didn't make it was because Suna's alpha, no matter how much he trusted her, wouldn't have let it near you.

"Rintato-"

"Look, Y/N. I love you, you know that. You know a lot of things, you're my smart little omega. So you must also know this isn't good, right?" Sliding a plate of, albeit mediocre, onigiri towards you, Rintaro focused his gaze on you.

"You know this, eh?"

You swallowed before grabbing one of the triangles, nibbling on the top in an attempt to appease your alpha. His sharp gaze still focused on you, making you shiver as he rounded around the counter. He turned you around so you were facing him, his hands holding your hips.

"You know this."

You wilted under his expectant gaze, knowing what he wanted from you. "I know this."

He smirked, leaning to take bite from your snack, licking his lips as he did. "Good omega."

"Rintaro that's mine!"

[sif-the-tsunami]

Ok prompt! Sy is teaching you how to cook and maybe things get frisky ? 😁

Oooo I like this. Its not 100% on the nose but this is where the muse took me.

Did you want a novel? Because, I hope you like novels.

Warnings: chili with beans, sweet cornbread, swearing, smut

"Listen hear, you chicken fried fuck. If you don't like my cooking, you are welcome to eat something else at the damn pot luck!" I snap at a grumpy retired soldier who was talking trash about my chili recipe. Like always. Whenever we have a party, he has to say something about how I'm dressed, what I brought, or the beer I was drinking.

"All I'm saying here, California, is that where I'm from we don't put beans in our chili. And don't get me started on this abomination you call cornbread. Why is it sweet, why are there vegetables in my bread?" He says in his drawl.

"Because honey and roasted jalapenos taste good together!"

"I guess. You don't need to fuss so much Princess, I'll gladly show you how to make real Texan food. Make some wife material out of you." He smirked. I think he knew he was getting under my skin.

"Come on, Sy, give her a break. Take a bite of her cornbread with the chili, they are delicious together." One of our mutual friends told him when he could see that I was not having any more of his attitude.

I walked away from the conversation, feeling incredibly salty. The man was Syverson, we had been in the same group of friends for the past couple years and honestly he was usually at least cordial with me, but the sheer audacity of his tone today. The rest of the party was really fun, at least. Occasionally, I would catch eyes the color of the ocean after a storm staring me down. He kept looking like he wanted to say something to me but I would find reasons to leave the room. Fortunately there was always a way to get out and around.

Towards the end of the evening, I go outside to enjoy the cooling air and watch the stars, listen to a couple of the guys from inside sit on the tailgate of a truck and talk about football or something. The breeze would kick up occasionally and I could smell an orange tree blooming in the distance.

"Hey, oh shit, I didn't mean to startle you." I jumped damn near out of my skin when the grump showed up out of nowhere. "I actually really wanted to say that I'm sorry, I can be a real asshole sometimes. You are usually more aware of it than others. I'm used to giving people a hard time. Your food was delicious. I just don't know how to talk to you sometimes."

I looked at the large man skeptically. I'm not used to people going from snarky to nice to me. "Thank you for apologizing. Glad you liked it, Chicken Fried. You can just talk to me like anyone else, I don't mind some teasing, but you just know how to push my buttons."

Sy looked at his feet for a moment. "I will be nicer to you, I promise."

"I'm sure." I had heard that before.

"I still think mines better," back to sounding arrogant already, "I am willing to bet that it would blow your mind."

"Do you really want to bet?"

"Yeah... sure. I'll bet you. If my chili it better than yours.... you have to go on a date with me."

"Is that how you get most of your dates these days? Tinder just isn't cutting it anymore?" I tease. He is actually kind of good looking. Sort of. If you are into that hand crafted by the gods kind of look. I'm not saying I am, but I could get the appeal.

"You'd be surprised. Most of the women I meet want to figure out what's wrong with me. Almost 40, never married, I have a job I like. They keep waiting for my skeletons to come out of the closet. Like shit, girl, I just don't like olives or sweet relish. I think I'm pretty cool otherwise." He said talking with his hands out stretched. I think he might have been being earnest with me, but his tone is almost always sarcastic.

"You were in the military, right?"

"Yeah."

"That's what's wrong with you." The big man started laughing harder than I thought he would.

"Well, California. You up for it?"

"I don't know Chicken Fried, I don't like dating, I would really just like something casual, low maintenance. What happens when I win?"

"When?" He chuckles. "If you are looking for something casual and low maintenance, baby, there is a reason when I was still in the Army they called me Captain Cunnilingus."

"It sounds like either way you win." I smirk, "I would need a real incentive to try to beat you."

"How about bragging rights?"

"If I win... you shave your beard. Then I get to use your face as a chair." He looked shocked.

"Fine, when I win, you have to wear a dress on our date, and heels. Maybe even some of that shit you all put on your lips with the glitter and fruity flavors."

"Ok, now that's unreasonable. I don't even own heels."

"I'll buy you some." Well color me impressed. We decide on the terms of the bet. We would invite a couple of friends over to his place next Sunday and they would pick a winner with a blind taste test. We would also have one canned chili and one restaurant chili to make it a little more interesting.

Sunday came, and we all gathered in his house. This was the best batch of chili I have ever made. Fresh peppers, bacon, beer and some good quality beef all swam together in a symphony of flavors. When I walked into his house, the smell was... pungent. I could smell cooking vinegar. It wasn't bad but there was something just a little off putting.

"Glad you showed up, Princess." He looked me up and down. to surprise him just a little, I did show up in a dress. I figured a special occasion needed a special outfit.

I looked over at the big man as he took my slow cooker from my hands and plugged it in for me. To be fair to both of us, we had enough time to set up sides and toppings. I even baked more cornbread. Sy made his own savory cornbread that he pulled out of the oven in a cast iron skillet.

"It was my mama's." He told me when I asked about it.

"You bake also?"

"Sometimes, if the mood hits me. I like making peach cobbler too. If you are lucky, I'll make you some. Maybe after our date."

"So sure of yourself, Chicken Fried. I hope you got some good shaving cream and a new razor, you'll need it." In his kitchen, I lifted the hem of my sundress clear up to my naked hip showing him that I was ready to win this bet of ours. His pupils blew out with lust as he stepped up to me.

"Princess, you are a hell of a tease. I have wanted you so badly ever since the first time we met." He breathed, lusty and hot. He pinned me to the counter, radiating his desire. He bit his lip, looking me up and down, he looked like he wanted to kiss me or maybe consume me whole. Suddenly he pulls away, leaving me breathless. "We will have company soon. I need to walk this off, but I really do want to continue this conversation when we don't have to risk being interrupted."

Before anyone could walk in on us, Syverson rushed up to me and kissed me more passionately. My knees buckle for a second and its like I've been set on fire.

When our friends came into his house, he set up bowls, spoons, Fritos and cheese. He set up blind tastings for the guests, only he and I knew what everyone was eating.

The canned chili was a flop. The restaurant chili was a better batch but it wasn't as good. When our friends tasted my chili, they all keep saying how wonderful it was.

Then we tried Sy's. Everyone was quiet for a moment and then the group started to try to figure out what it was about the chili that we didn't like. It was too sweet as far as I was concerned and there was a weird aftertaste. It was an overwhelming agreement that Sy's chili was terrible. After we cleaned up his kitchen, Sy was pouting about having lost.

"So, when would you like for me to shave my beard?"

"Maybe later tonight. I think we have to finish that conversation we started earlier."

"Oh yeah, California?" He said, standing close to me. He grabbed me by my hips and lifted me to the counter top. I lace my fingers through his beard hair and pull him closer so I can finally kiss him again. He broke away from the kiss and then started nibbling on my neck. His hand found the seem of my dress and he slid his hand up my thigh. When my skirt was pushed up to my hips exposing my sex to him, he leaned me back. I watched him look at my core and lick his lips like a man starved.

"Wait a second. Before you start, what was going on with your chili? Did you throw the bet?"

"No, not at all." He looked at me confused. "I don't know what happened, I've made this a bunch of times and its always been good. This was terrible."

"Did you do anything different?"

"Well. I was out of tomato paste, so I used ketchup. A buddy of mine suggested it."

"Oh my god, Sy. No wonder! Thank god you are pretty, my guy." I tease.

"Your guy? I like the way that sounds. Now lean back, Princess. I'm going to try to convince you to let me not shave."

[shinidamachu]

I need some Inuyasha as a great father (more like DILF, amirite?) headcanons, can you help me out?

I'm here to serve!

• It isn’t until they’re happily married for at least one or two years that the possibility of children are brought up.

• At first, they took that time to relearn each other, enjoy their company and make the honeymoon phase last a little long. They did spend three years apart, after all. There’s so much time to make up for, so many catching up to do before they’d even think to throw a kid into the mix. Plus, being a modern woman, Kagome would know how to avoid pregnancy the best her new circumstances allowed and how important that time alone is for a newly-married couple.

• They never actually had the child talk because Kagome just assumed that’s where their relationship would naturally lead to, given her motherly tendencies and Inuyasha’s history of ultimately giving her everything she wants. For his part, Inuyasha knew she wanted to be a mother someday and he'd be lying if he said he never indulged the fantasy of fathering her children. However, he has serious trouble wrapping his mind around the idea that, in reality, Kagome would still be up for it if he were to be the father. He could never dare to ask of her more than she has already given him. Be that as it may, it was not a big deal because it was not a dealbreaker. Nothing was.

• But with time, Kagome would have noticed how good Inuyasha is with Hisui and the Mirsan twins. How his relationship with Shippo had developed from a sibling banter to a makeshift paternal relationship. How people like Shiori and Bunza would look up to him like he was some kind of movie hero. How every kid in the village seemed to adore him despite his grumpy demeanor.

• And Inuyasha would have noticed the way Kagome would look at him whenever he so much as interacted with a child, the way her smell would spike significantly.

• She, of course, was the one to make the first move, jumping him one night, after they had spend the whole day stuck with babysitting the Mirsan children and popping the question.

• Inuyasha was relutant. There was a part of him that was adamant on making her happy and even believed having babies would make him happy too. On the other hand, he was terrified. Terrified of how her body would react to childbirth, of if her spiritual powers would accept his demonic energy. But mostly, about what would happen once the baby was born. The last thing he wanted was for Kagome to go through everything his mother had to go through. Or for another kid to face the same prejudice he did. Besides, he grew up with no father figure whose steps he could follow. He didn’t know how to be a father.

• Kagome assures him that they won’t have a baby until they’re both ready and on the same page, that they have time and that Inuyasha will be a great father.

• Inuyasha believes her.

• Then it is him felling some type of way whenever he sees Kagome around kids. And something deep inside desperately wishes to find out what would their children look like, what would it be like to hold and take care of someone born from their love.

• Finally, he caves.

• Inuyasha wants a big family, considering how lonely his childhood was. Kagome finds it pivotal for their first-born to have a sibling, since she had Sota and their relationship was one of the most important things in her life. That’s why they’d have two children minimum, preferably a boy and a girl. However, giving how dangerous and uncomfortable childbirth can be, especially without the perks the modern era provides, I don’t think they’d have more than three.

• Naturally, Inuyasha relies on Miroku for advice and the latter is more helpful than not. Except for the times Inuyasha asks or says something that makes it way too easy for Miroku to mess with him. Like the time he told Inuyasha that if he doesn’t get Kagome whatever food she craves while pregnant, the baby will be born looking exactly like that food. And Inuyasha believed him.

• And if you thought Inuyasha was protective of Kagome before... oh boy! He’d be almost overbearing, but Kagome would see it as endearing. Most of the time. Sometimes, though, a woman has got to have her privacy. He also becomes more attentive, more gentle, sweeter.

• After their first child is born, Inuyasha gets a makeover of sorts. He’s always borrowing the Fire Rat to Kagome and the baby anyway, so he figured it’d be more practical to just pass the clothes on to them already and get something new for himself.

• It’s white.

• Inuyasha becomes taller, stronger. And often lets Kagome experiment with his hair with braids, top nots... and ponytails.

• Old Myoga is the first one to notice the resemblance. And it’s true. He’s the spitting image of Toga. Former enemies and allies often mistaken him for Toga and Kagome thinks the look on their (and Inuyasha’s) face is hilarious.

• Sesshoumaru does not care for it (I stole this one from @heavenin--hell).

• Inuyasha hates his human nights even more because now his vulnerability also means he might not be able to protect his family as he usually would (Together Changed by @goshinote and @lostinfantasyworlds inspired this one). Plus, the black hair and lack of dog ears confuses the baby, who cries and fusses for a good while until realizing it is, in fact, Inuyasha holding them (this one I saw in an adorable fanart I can’t find).

• But since he needs way less sleeping than humans and he spends the New Moons up anyway, Inuyasha gets a lot of quality time with their infant at night, which allows Kagome to actually get a good night sleep unless the baby is hungry.

• The Beads of Subjugation get dooled and chewed on. A lot.

• A little contest takes place between Kagome and Inuyasha about what the first word of their first child would be, with Kagome going for “dada” and Inuyasha going for “mama.”

• Kagome wins.

• Inuyasha’s fighting style changes. He still says some snarky remarks, but now it’s more to push his opponent‘s buttons down so they would get sloppy than anything else. After all, he has a child to think about and provide for now. He doesn’t have the luxury of gambling with his life anymore. He has a home to come back to and therefore won’t be taking any chances (credit to @born-for-eachother for this one).

• And so he becomes more lethal on the battle field. Pragmatic. Objective. Calculating. Decisive. Cold blooded. Much like... Sesshomaru.

• He had never been more offended on his life than the day Sango pointed this out to him.

• When the kids grow up a bit, Inuyasha and Kagome start to tell them bedtime stories, with the PG version of the story about how the met and defeated Naraku being their favorite.

• Kagome tries to be a reliable and calm narrator while Inuyasha exaggerates the events and the voices, almost always breaking objects of their house in the process.

• After hearing one too many times about the Beads of Subjugation, their child tries to “sit” Inuyasha. Of course it doesn’t work, but he still makes a big deal out of throwing himself on the ground every time they say the word just to hear them laugh.

• The first actual toy Inuyasha buys them is a ball, just like the one he had as a kid, at the same time accomplishing a childhood wish through them and ensuring that they would always have someone to play with.

• Kagome is more protective of their physical state while Inuyasha is more protective of their emotional one (see Fist Fight by @omgitscharlie)

• Inuyasha goes to Totosai and asks him to make a weapon out of one of his fangs to each of their children once they get old enough for it. Not necessarily a sword, just something of their choice and that better fits their personality.

• He would be a just father, doing his best to show no favoritism, treat his children equally and make sure no one felt overlooked or unloved.

• But truth be told, if one of their babies turn out to be a daughter, he would definitelly let her get away with almost anything, no matter how much of a gremlin she is. Daddy’s little girl would have him wrapped around her tiny fingers.

• Life never treated Inuyasha kindly. From a very young age, it was kill or be killed. It wouldn't be too far off for him to think the exact same thing could happen with his kids, therefore he tries to prepare them, to tough them up so they can take it.

• And I believe this sentiment would be significantly amplified with a son, because it would involve the whole “suck it up”, “men don’t cry” and “man of the house” aspect of it. The “it is your duty to protect your mother and sister when I’m gone” too, especially because he couldn’t protect Izayoi himself.

• It’s “tough love”, but it’s love nonetheless. And in the right dose, which I believe Inuyasha manages to nail, it can be very important for one’s development and growth.

• But it’s hard to imagine him being as tough with a daughter. Probably because he sees so much of Kagome on her that the mere idea of seeing her cry simply breaks him.

• Kagome would actually have to step in when it comes to disciplining and saying “no”, because he simply wouldn’t have it in him to do so.

There’s actually a really nice post by @keichanz I reblogged a while ago discussing precisely that, but I can’t find it to save my life (should I start to properly tag my reblogs? No, it’s a lot of work and I’m right not to).

Anyway, that’s all I got for now.

Peace out.

[pillage-and-lute]

(For next time you’re looking for prompts) I really like your writing, and when I thought of this I wondered what you’d do with it: Geralt and Jaskier are together, but agree to pretend not to be for their next stop. Maybe one of them wants to win an old bet, or Jaskier’s not 100% sure his betrothal to a local noble has been officially dissolved, whatever, (not homophobia), fluff and high jinx ensue. Anyway I hope something unexpectedly nice happens to you today.

Hi Dahliavandare! Thanks for the blessing in my inbox  🥰

This ran away from me, tons of backstory about Jaskier’s family. Just, way too much.

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“Geralt, darling,” Jaskier said hesitantly. “I have an errand we need to run, and I’m not sure you’ll like it.”

Geralt hummed noncommittally. They were resting at their camp outside of Hagge and the warm summer air and the feeling of Jaskier curled against him had lulled him into a warm, fuzzy stupor.

“You see,” Jaskier continued, fiddling with the buttons at his cuffs. “I’m a noble, and you know that of course.” He laughed awkwardly. “And I’ve been lucky enough to pawn most of those responsibilities off onto my much savvier sister, but there are certain niceties that landed families observe that--”

“Spit it out,” Geralt grumbled, although not bad naturedly. 

“I’m betrothed,” Jaskier said. “And we need to go to Gwendeith to break it off.”

Geralt turned to look at his beloved. “You’re engaged?”

“Betrothed!” Jaskier yelped, then saw Geralt’s expression. “Oh, dear heart, there’s a slight difference in meaning, especially to nobles. Engaged implies an intent to marry--”

“And betrothed doesn’t?”

“Well, sort of, but I’ve been betrothed practically since I was born, engaged would imply I’m sort of planning the wedding. It’s a contract, a social contract. My family and my betrothed’s are pretty minor nobles, so really it’s just a way of saying ‘maybe someday our kids could marry’. It isn’t the hard and fast marriage it might be if I were, say, a prince.”

“Then why do it?” Geralt asked. Most of the time he was happy to understand as little of the lives of the gentry as possible, but Jaskier was important.

“Honestly,” Jaskier sighed. “I think Papa arranged it because he cared for me, Mama too.”

“It takes away your choice,” Geralt began.

“It doesn’t. A betrothal like mine and... Iliana, that’s her name, only met her twice, it’s sort of social insurance. Especially for her, but for me as well. Nobles are supposed to marry, so, if at some point neither of us had found love we could marry one another. For Iliana there’s the security of having a husband, although from what I’ve heard she can handle herself fine, and for me its assurance of heirs if that sort of thing concerned me, and companionship for us both.”

It sounded...mostly sort of logical to Geralt.

“But I love you,” Jaskier said. “And I don’t want to be betrothed to anyone because I love you and, someday, whenever you get over you allergy to the concept of commitment, I’m going to put a ring on you.”

Geralt hummed gruffly but said nothing. There was a slim golden band hidden away in his bags and he be damned if Jaskier got to propose first.

“I will. Anyway, I need to tell Iliana. I’m sure she won’t mind. I met her once when I was seven and again when I was nineteen.”

“Nineteen, when?” Geralt asked. Most of Jaskier’s nineteenth year had been spent at Geralt’s side. Most of every year after that too.

“Just before I met you. I had travelled east to meet her originally, and was going back west when we met.”

“Tell me about her?”

“Illiana? Oh, well, she told me that she was fine leaving the betrothal in place because it’s standard, but that she doesn’t care for men in that way so she’d never give me heirs and would have my balls nailed above her door if I ever told her she had to.”

“Sounds like she’d get along with Yen.”

“I fear they’d take over the world,” Jaskier said. “Anyway, I told her no worries since, honestly, heirs just aren’t important to me. Then we agreed that when either of us found love we’d break the betrothal and that would be that.”

“Hmmm.”

“No, Geralt, tell me what that means. Is that a ‘okay, let’s go to Gwendeith’ hum? A ‘I’m angry that you’re betrothed’ hum?”

Geralt shifted to poke the fire. “It’s a ‘I think there’s more you need to tell me’ hum.”

“Ah,” Jaskier rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s the thing. We have to go in person because a letter would be rude, but also...we have to pretend not to be together, while we’re in Gwedeith.”

“Why?”

“It’s politics, dear heart. It would be shaming to Iliana, socially. Personally, I don’t think she’d care, but it’s a courtesy thing.”

“I don’t do a lot of lovey stuff anyway,” Geralt said. 

“You think you don’t,” Jaskier said. He began to unroll their bedroll.

“What do you mean, Jaskier?”

Jaskier turned to him, smiling indulgently and gilded in the firelight. “Our lives have molded around one another, my love. When I stand beside you your hand goes to my back or my shoulder. You order dinner for me because you know just what food I like. When I’m tired you don’t have to ask what’s wrong, you just lift me onto Roach behind you.”

Geralt hadn’t even realized he did, but he knew it was true. Jaskier leaned over and pressed a kiss to Geralt’s slightly furrowed brow.

“When my boots are wearing thin you buy me new ones before I even notice. When I’m cold you give me your cloak. If I fall asleep with my head on your shoulder you’d rather sit like that all night than disturb me.”

Geralt shrugged awkwardly. “You buy me beeswax,” he said. It seemed a fair retort. Jaskier bought him beeswax to put in his ears when cities or sometimes monsters were too loud for Geralt’s senses. “You only buy light scents, even though I know you like bolder perfumes.”

“Yes,” Jaskier said, taking one of Geralt’s large, scarred hands. “We love eachother very much, and it’s obvious to people who care to look.”

“That could be dangerous,” Geralt began, his head spiralling towards worry for Jaskier’s safety, but Jaskier cut him off.

“No, dear heart. It’s obvious to those who care to look. The sort of people who would hurt me for loving you, well, most of them think you can’t love, so they don’t look for love, and they don’t see.” 

Geralt sat back. People saw what they expected to see, it was true. 

“We’ll travel to Gwendeith,” he said. “And unbetroth you.”

Jaskier kissed him and his lips tasted like the jerky they’d eaten for supper.

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

The trip to Gwendeith was long. It was at the very edge of any map, past Posada to the east, tucked into the Blue mountains.  They traveled along the Dyfne river, taking the occasional contract but making good time. This far from anything, there were few people to be troubled by monsters. 

They stopped in Posada one night, eating dinner in the corner of a familiar tavern. This time, however, Jaskier was much better received and the bread ended up on the table rather than down his trousers.

Past Posada, and almost to the end of the Dyfne river, Geralt asked, “Why did your parents pick Iliana? How did they know of her?” Lettenhove was entirely the other side of the continent, a tiny island off the coast of Poviss with two villages and a couple flocks of sheep. 

Geralt only knew of it from Jaskier’s descriptions, which were mostly stories of the ice cold sea and rocky cliffs. He tended toward calling it ‘idyllic’ and ‘picturesque’ altough occassionally ‘the arse end of the world’ and ‘colder than an ice giant’s ballsack.’ The first time Geralt had taken Jaskier to Kaer Morhen he’d feared for his bard’s safety in the cold of the mountains, but Jaskier hadn’t even blinked an eye, merely bundling up in a hugely wooly cloak and mittens. 

“Ah, well,” Jaskier said. “Long story, but Papa was in Temeria, see, since nothing ever happens in Lettenhove, because we have more people than sheep, he get’s sent on diplomatic missions a lot. He’s good at it, and he can be spared. He loves it too, even though he’s sort of retired he still does them. Takes Ma, calls the trips his little “sunshine vacations”. 

“You get your personality from your father, then?” Geralt asked. Jaskier didn’t talk about his family much, and Geralt got the sense that, rather than this being because they were horrible, Jaskier simply missed them too much. 

“Definitely. Ma’s lovely, and brilliant with just everything to do with her hands, but she’s not good with people. I got her looks, though.”

“I should thank her, then,” Geralt said, smiling. 

Jaskier chuckled. “Yes, she’s the reason for the long lives, too, fantastic story.”

“Finish the one about your father and Gwendeith first.”

“Right, so Papa was in Temeria, and so was Iliana’s father, sort of the mayor of Gwendeith, as I understand, although not back then. He’d gotten robbed, though, and Papa had won a horse and quite a lot of gold in a card game. It might have been Gwent, I can’t remember. If you ever meet Papa you should ask him. Anyway, he gave the extra horse and gold to Iliana’s father.”

“So your betrothal was a debt?”

“Goodness, no. This was years before I was born, Papa hadn’t even met Ma yet. No, they struck up a friendship, because when Iliana’s father got home he had a mage send a message to Papa to thank him and they struck up a friendship.”

“Sending messages by mage? That’s expensive for a penpal.”

“Ah well, that actually ties in to the story about Ma. Ma’s got magic, just a little, she’s a hedge witch of a sort. The issue is, hedge witches mostly use plants, and Ma couldn’t grow grass, so she mostly works with wood. Anyway, she has a friend, her very best friend, is a mage. They grew up together, and my Auntie Szarlotta sent my Papa’s first few messages back to Iliana’s father.”

Geralt smiled atop Roach. Jaskier’s storytelling pace was as familiar as Roach’s saddle, and it was calming in a way. 

“So, Auntie was sending Papa’s message when Ma came in to visit. That’s how she met Papa, because she’d only just moved to Lettenhove. Auntie says it was love at first sight, but Papa insists that Ma turned up her nose and ignored him for months.”

“Which one is it?”

“Knowing Ma, probably both. She’s a little like you, so the second she realized she liked Papa she ignored him so she wouldn’t have to deal with it.”

Geralt huffed good-naturedly.

“Anyway, Auntie Szarlotta agreed to send Papa’s messages for free, and she even included a way for Iliana’s father to send them back, so long as he wrote his response on the back of the same paper. She always timed it though, so that Ma was over when Papa was there. And I guess the rest is history.”

“Except the immortality.”

“Right, well, Ma got really sick when she was pregnant with my sister, I was little so I barely remember but Papa was so worried, and Ma looked really pale. Well, Auntie got really worried, freaked out a little, and she found all these old spells to try to make Ma well again. I remeber the light, she was working in a room of the old lighthouse and I could see the light of her spells from my window. Anyway, eventually she tries some on Ma, but they don’t work, and she just keeps trying.”

Geralt had an image of a frantic sorceress being watched by a young Jaskier through a crack in a door. 

“But I suppose some of those old spells need a little time to work because nothing at all worked and then they all sort of worked at once. There was this big, bright light and then Ma was well, and she and Papa haven’t aged a day since then.”

Geralt glanced at his lover, who looked the same at fifty as he had at twenty. “And you don’t age? What about your sister?”

“Ksenia hasn’t aged either. She looks like Papa, just so you know, grey eyes, blonde hair. She’s got two kids, now, but I haven’t met them.”

“Do the kids age?”

“Right now they’re very young,” Jaskier said. “I didn’t stop aging until nineteen or twenty, so I suppose we’ll have to wait and see.”

“How do you know she has kids?”

“Oh, well, Auntie Szarlotta sends letters to me, but we travel and it’s hard to send them right to me, so I just pick them up at Oxenfurt.”

“Hmmm,” Geralt said. He needed to go to Lettenhove. Jaskier had met his sort-of-family, he should meet Jaskier’s. 

“I’d love to go see them...” Jaskier said, wistfully. 

“Who?”

“My niece and nephew, they’re almost two and three years old now.”

Geralt picked Jaskier up by the collar of his doublet and placed him onto the back of Roach. 

“We’ll spend the winter in Lettenhove this year,” he said as Jaskier wrapped his arms around Geralt’s waist.

“Really?”

“Hmmm.”

Geralt needed to ask Jaskier’s father for his hand in marriage, anyway.

-- -- -- -- -- -- 

They made it to Gwendeith just after mid summer, riding into the little town at noon. Despite the season, the little mountain valley was shaded and cool. Jaskier shivered slightly and Geralt had to resist the urge to pull his cloak from his pack. From that point forth, they weren’t supposed to be in love.

Fuck.

They had to request a meeting with the mayor, which didn’t surprise Geralt. In a town such as this, logging and mining were the main industries. Trading for food to last over the winter began early and was of the utmost importance. That left Geralt and Jaskier, unfortunately, sitting with a man who introduced himself as Sir Boris.

Apparently he was a retired knight who acted as a sort of captain of the guard, except there wasn’t much of a guard. His wife Lady Olenka joined them and the two of them talked about their grandchildren until Geralt could feel his eyes rolling back in his head. 

At any other time, Jaskier would have placed one gentle hand on his wrist, which would have fortified Geralt, but they couldn’t. 

“But you’re here for Iliana,” Sir Boris was saying. “Dreadfully sorry you can’t see her today, I’m afraid there’s been an issue with the lumber trade to sort out. You’ll just have to have my darling Lenka and I as company until that’s done.”

He sent a huge wink to his wife, a slim, elegant woman, who chuckled and playfully hit him on the shoulder, to which Sir Boris pretended to be wounded before throwing back his head and laughing hugely. Everything the old knight did was huge, he was a large man with a round, red face and large belly and a laugh that could shake walls. 

“It’s no trouble,” Jaskier said. “I’m sure preparing for winter is a year round project here.”

“Oh of course,” Lady Olenka said. “But once it’s here we can all relax, and spend time with family.” She leaned forward as if imparting a delightful secret and said in a stage-whisper, “Boris has been our town’s Father Winter for the last four years.”

Jaskier made impressed ‘ooh’ noises and Geralt tried to at least look like he understood that. 

Boris laughed again. “It’s this lot,” he said, slapping his round stomach. “Better than some old geezer with a pillow down his shirt, eh?”

Geralt hummed in agreement. 

“And you must make a lovely Mother Winter, Lady Olenka,” Jaskier said politely.

She smiled, lines crinkling around her eyes as if drawing a road map. “It’s not as important as Father Winter, of course, but I rather pride myself that I plan a very good Midwinter festival.” Geralt got the sense that behind the modesty she was quite proud, and, he suspected, with good reason.

“But, you must tell me,” she said, modestly changing the subject. “Is there to be a missus Pankratz, now that you’ve come to see Lady Iliana?”

“I am a man in love,” Jaskier said. “And I am hopeful that an engagement will come soon, yes.”

“Oh dearie that’s just lovely,” Lady Olenka said, patting Jaskier’s cheek. “And you’re such a nice boy too, little young looking to be betrothed to our Lady Iliana anyway, although she’s a very dear woman.”

“We just love her,” Sir Boris said. “She’s a great mayor, not keen on marriage, but nobody minds, she just seems to have adopted the whole town as family.”

Lady Olenka patted her husband’s broad shoulder. “It was smart of you not to bring your love here, though. There’s some nobles here from Lyria, that’s who she’s been trading with, and I think they’d like any excuse to disparage here.” She lowered her voice again. “You know how those lot are about having women in charge.”

“I can’t relate,” Sir Boris laughed. “Lenka’s the ruler in our house.” That got a laugh because it had to, and because Sir Boris’s laugh was surprisingly infectious. 

“Good on you bringing a bodyguard too,” he said once the laughter had abated. He slapped Geralt companionably on the back, which was like being hit by a friendly battering ram. “Witcher too, don’t get many up here, but I bet you’re the safest man in a hundred miles.”

“Oh, dear, don’t you know?” Lady Olenka said. “Lord Julian here is a bard as well, he goes by Jaskier and sings all about witchers.”

“Really?” Sir Boris said, looking at Jaskier. “Blimey, imagine that. Good on you, finding a niche in the market.”

Geralt’s ears were beginning to ache. Friendly though Sir Boris might be, he didn’t seem to have a volume level below ‘deafening’. He was tired and overwrought and he just wanted to cuddle up with Jaskier in a bed. It wasn’t even suppertime, though.

They sat through another hour of hearing about Boris and Olenka’s eighteen grandchildren. 

“And three great-grandchildren,” Boris added proudly.

Geralt was thankful Jaskier could carry the conversation. He longed for a kiss, though. Now that he knew he couldn’t have one, his lips fairly ached for one.

Supper was a large affair, with one of Boris and Olenka’s children’s family over for dinner as well. Geralt was seated across from Jaskier between two small children who, apparently, needed to be separated at dinertimes to prevent bickering. They contented themselves instead by asking Geralt every question they could think of, often making him wrack his brain for child appropriate answers.

It wasn’t just witchering questions, either. He answered such questions as “Why is the sky blue?” (Because it’s Melitele’s favorite color). Immediately before answering “How big are dragon scales?” (The small ones are like pebbles and the big ones are like shields.)

Jaskier smiled at him over his bowl of stew, eyes sparkling. Geralt loved children, and Jaskier loved seeing them adore Geralt.

“So, Lord Julian,” Boris and Olenka’s daughter began. “Your lady love, tell us about her?” She smiled Lady Olenka’s warm smile and Jaskier did a good show of seeming bashful. 

“My love is unlike any other,” he began. “And if you’ll pardon my saying so, I’m a poet, and so must wax poetic.”

“Wouldn’t settle for anything less, lad!” Boris bellowed cheefully.

“My darling has fair hair, like moonlight,” Jaskier said, and the table oohed appreciatively. Geralt felt his ears get hot.

“And eyes like summer,” the bard continued. “I could get lost in them. No eyes could compare.” Geralt kicked him under the table, but Olenka was sighing sympathetically.

“But of course,” Jaskier said slyly, my heart is best held by my love’s lips.”

Boris chuckled knowingly. “I’ll bet it is, my boy,” he said, winking. Olenka slapped his arm, but she was smiling. Geralt felt hot.

“I’m afraid, however that my lover is quite modest, and won’t appreciate me extolling too many virtues,” Jaskier finished. “So I must finish with, I love them very much, and it is for them alone that my heart beats.”

Therewith leaving every person at the table (those above the age of twelve, at least) with misty eyes, Jaskier helped Lady Olenka clean up supper. Geralt helped put the dishes away.

After dinner they were led back to the mayor’s house. “I’m afraid the negotiations don’t seem to be finished,” Lady Olenka said. “I had hoped they would be quick, but it seems not. If the issue wasn’t resolved today, I wouldn’t bet on them being resolved too early tomorrow, either. You two don’t have pressing business elsewhere?”

“No, my lady,” Jaskier said, although if they lingered too long they wouldn’t make it to Lettenhove for the winter, as it was, it would be close.

“I’m sure she’ll be able to see you soon,” the lady said. “Here’s your room, and Master Witcher, your room is just at the far end of the hall.”

She said goodnight and Geralt hoped she couldn’t see the slump of his shoulders.

Separate rooms.

Jaskier smiled ruefully at him and they parted for the night. Geralt’s bed was large and comfortable, with clean linens and feather pillows, but he barely got a wink of sleep.

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

The next morning found Jaskier and Geralt breakfasting in the tavern, owned, apparently, by another of Boris and Olenka’s grown children.

“Did you sleep well?” Jaskier whispered over a plate of sausage and eggs.

“Fine,” Geralt grunted.

“I couldn’t sleep a wink,” Jaskier said. “Want my last piece of bacon? I’m stuffed.”

Geralt took it gratefully, slipping Jaskier his fried slice as a trade. No matter how Jaskier protested that he was stuffed, he always had room for a fried slice.”

“Terrible woman,” said a nasal voice at the next table. “Just impossible to do business with.”

“I agree, overemotional, you know how they get,” agreed another voice. Jaskier made eye contact with Geralt. The accent was Lyrian.

“Not even married,” said the first speaker. “What a disgrace. If my daughter got to her age without children I’d just die of shame.”

Geralt pitied his daughter.

“Oh of course,” said the second man. “Attractive, though, for an old maid.”

The first man snickered cruelly. “Thinking a little wooing might soften her up?”

“It always does, women like that, they’re just angry because they haven’t found a man.”

“Won’t your wife mind?”

“Are you going to tell her?” Both men laughed unpleasantly.

A serving girl, maybe sixteen or seventeen, came around the tables, presumably one of Sir Boris’ many granddaughters. She took their plates onto a tray and smiled when Jaskier slipped a few coins onto the tray as a tip.

At the next table  one of the Lyrian’s snapped their fingers impatiently. The girl rolled her eyes. Geralt was pleased to see that, although she served him professionally, as she walked away she ‘accidentally’ tread on his foot.

“What pathetic pieces of shit, the pair of them,” Jaskier said as they stepped out into the sunlight. 

“Hmmm,” Geralt agreed. Then he looked around quickly and pulled Jaskier into an alleyway, urging the bard deeper into the shadows. 

“What? Geralt di-”

Geralt smushed his lips gracelessly to Jaskier’s, crowding him up against the wall. Jaskier’s hair between his fingers was so familiar and comforting, as was the little sigh Jaskier let out.

They pulled apart and Geralt rested his forehead against Jaskier’s. “That’ll tide me over for a while,” he whispered. Jaskier smiled.

“Are you master Julian?”

The pair sprang apart, looking in alarm at the red headed boy at the far end of the alley. 

“Yes...?” Jaskier said.

“Only, Pa said to come find you, and he said you’d be with a big man dressed all in black.”

“And you found us here?” Jaskier asked.

“Didn’t know you’d be here, did I?” Said the boy, stuffing his hands into his trouser pockets. “It’s the shortcut through to the tavern, but then, I figured he’s the only big man in black around.”

Geralt inclined his head, feeling his ears go hot.

“Lady Iliana has time to see you now,” the boy continued, oblivious to the awkwardness. 

“By all means...lead the way,” said Jaskier.

They were led out of the alley and back to the mayor’s house by the messenger boy.

“Out of curiosity,” Jaskier asked. “Is your grandad Sir Boris?” 

“Yeah, that’s him,” said the lad. “He made me a toy sword for my tenth birthday too.” He pointed proudly to the wooden sword tied at his hip with some string.

“It makes you look a proper hero,” Jaskier said. Then he pulled out his coin purse. “A copper for bringing us the message and...another to not tell anyone what you saw.”

The boy looked between the two of them shrewdly.

“Not even my best friend? I tell Mikhail everything.”

“Not until Geralt and I have left.”

“Three coppers total,” the boy said promptly. Jaskier handed them over good naturedly and the boy flashed a gap toothed grin before taking off.

Geralt and Jaskier shrugged at each other, before finding their way to the main room of the mayor’s house. A broad shouldered woman of about fifty poked her head out of a door.

“Julian?”

Geralt and Jaskier went inside.

“You look well,” Iliana said, sitting behind a large desk and gesturing to a couple chairs. “You havent’ aged a day.”

“And you look as lovely as I remember,” Jaskier said.

“Flirt. Come to ask me for heirs?”

Jaskier shuddered. “No, my lady. I remember your threat well. I think you know why I’m here.”

The two Lyrians barged through the door. 

“Did I ask you to enter?” Iliana said, coldly. Geralt felt an unusual curl of fear set up in his stomach, she was a distinctly fearsome woman.

“Well,” said the first Lyrian.

“You were so beautiful, I couldn’t wait on seeing you again,” said the second, slimily.

“Oh I say!,” Iliana said, standing. She placed her hand over her chest in a delicately offended way, which was ill suited to her. “You sir are too bold, and in front of my betrothed too!”

The Lyrians looked, panicked, at the people sat in the chairs. As Geralt was seated in the chair nearest the door, and therefore nearest them, they came to the wrong conclusion. The blood drained from both their faces.

“What an insult!” Iliana continued. “You should be ashamed! What a lack of diplomacy!” 

Beside Geralt, Jaskier snickered. She was laying it on a little thick. 

“Why,” she continued. “I ought to write to your king! I’ve never been so insulted. And I’m sure my beloved will want to sort out this insult too.” She fluttered her lashes at Geralt. 

Geralt nearly jumped out of his seat, but thankfully his brain caught up. He stood, growling a little theatrically and placed one hand on the hilt of his steel sword.

“Our apologies my lady,” the first man said hurriedly.

“Our mistake, we’ll just--” they dissappeared out the door.

“What a fearsome couple,” Geralt heard whispered as the door swung shut.

Iliana sighed satisfactedly and kicked her feet up on her desk. “It seems I should thank you,” she said. “That is going to make negotiations much easier.”

“I’m sure you always get good deals,” Jaskier said.

“Yes. I get the deals I want.”

“You know why I’m here,” Jaskier said.

“Yes.”

“Do you agree?”

“To disolve the betrothal? Of course. Never found a lover for myself so I never bothered but, well, I just don’t do romance.”

“Some people don’t,” Geralt said, thinking of Eskel.”

“Indeed,” Iliana said, smiling warmly at him. “Not all of us have a soulmate to sing us songs.” She laughed at their surprised faces. 

“Oh you fooled them, and you may have fooled Boris and Olenka, but I’ve heard your songs, Julian. It’s written right into everything you do.”

She began rummaging in one of the drawers in the desk. “I don’t mind, of course. So few people know we’re actually betrothed...there it is.” She pulled out an old piece of paper. “I’ll just rip it up if that’s fine by you. You’ll have to do the same to yours of course.”

“We’re going to Lettenhove this winter,” Jaskier said. “I’ll do it as soon as I find it.”

Iliana smiled again. “Father always did say that your dad had a horrible filing system.”

“He filed all his papers on the floor, yes, although I imagine my sister is neater.”

Iliana tore the paper in half without ceremony and placed the contract in the waste paper bin. “Lettenhove is very far away, Julian, will you get there in time?”

Jaskier glanced at Geralt. 

“I don’t know,” Geralt said.

“No matter,” said Iliana. She began writing something on a new sheet of paper. “Our logging teams float lumber all down the Dyfne and Pontar rivers. Show this to the dockmaster at the tip of the Dyfne and our riverboat captains can get you to Novigrad.” 

She pulled out another sheet of paper. “Once you’re in Novigrad, show this to the harbormaster and he’ll get you to Lettenhove.” She looked at their shocked faces and smiled. “Our lumber is the best, and it’s used in everything, including ships. I’m willing to cash in a favor in order to get rid of a useless betrothal.”

“Thank you, my lady,” Jaskier said bowing deeply. “I’ll have my Aunt Szarlotta send a message once our betrothal is fully extant.”

Iliana stood and shook his hand. “I’d appreciate that.”

“Our fathers were penpals,” Jaskier said. “Perhaps we should keep up the tradition?” 

The mayor inclined her head. “I’d like that. I may be too busy to write often.”

Jaskier waved a hand. “I can only pick up messages when I pass through Oxenfurt, but I like to make friends with powerful people.” 

The two of them shared a smile.

“Not to rush you out my door,” Iliana said. “But I do have a lot to do, winter comes early up here, and I know it does as well in Lettenhove. even with my help, you two should leave soon.”

Geralt and Jaskier left that afternoon, just after a hearty meal at the tavern.

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

Across the continent and some weeks later, Jaskier and Geralt stepped onto the docks in Novigrad.

“I don’t think Roach liked the river boats,” Jaskier said as Geralt led her off. Roach whinnied and shook her mane emphatically.

“Sorry, girl,” Geralt said. “You’ll have another long boat journey, and this time I doubt we’ll stop so you can run about on land.”

“Nah,” Jaskier said, as they walked toward a tavern for supper. “Boats from Novigrad to Lettenhove stop around the coast on the way, she’ll get plenty of exercise. It’s something to do with the currents.”

He petted Roach’s muzzle softly as they stabled her at the inn beside the tavern and Geralt felt his heart go out to his bard. Jaskier cared so much for Roach. Geralt thought again of the gold band in his pack.

“C’mon,” he said. “Let’s eat.”

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

Slightly more than a month later, after a slow, coastal boat journey, and then another between Inis Porhoest and Lettenhove, Geralt, Jaskier, and their faithful horse, stepped off the final boat.

“Welcome home, Master Julian,” said a fisherman on the dock.

“Does everyone here know you?” Geralt asked.

“Pretty much, there’s only about three hundred people here.”

News spread fast among three hundred people and Jaskier and Geralt were greeted enthusiastically at the door to the very small castle. A blonde woman who could only be Ksenia, Jaskier’s sister, flung her arms around him, and withing a moment Geralt was being gathered into the hug by a slightly older looking couple.

“Julek,” said the blonde man, pulling back. “My boy, you’re home, and you brought this stunning man, wow, what a looker.” 

“Papa, don’t be embarrassing,” Jaskier said. Geralt flushed clear to the roots of his hair. Apparently when Jaskier said he had his father’s personality he meant all of his father’s personality.

They had dinner as a family, including Jaskier’s niece and nephew, Cecylia and Prot. They had questions for Geralt, and he was grateful for the practice he’d had in Gwendeith. It was an enjoyable meal over all, and afterward Jaskier was distracted by his Aunt Szarlotta while Geralt slipped away to ask Mr. Pankratz a very important question.

The two of them returned to the main hall to see Jaskier pretending to be a dragon, while Cecylia and Prot bravely fought him with butterknives, but he straightened up when he saw the look on Geralt’s face.

Geralt took his hand and Jaskier squeezed it three times, it was their code, asking if Geralt needed to go somewhere that wasn’t so hard on his senses. Geralt smiled and shook his head, swallowing nervously around the lump in his throat.

He got down on one knee and pulled out the gold band. “I’m...I’m not good with words.” Geralt swallowed again, wishing he could borrow Jaskier’s eloquence for five minutes or so. “Marry me?”

The words were barely out from his mouth before Jaskier was tackling him to the ground, pressing kisses all over his face.

“Oh Geralt!” he said. “Wait--”

Jaskier looked up at his mother, who smiled and was handed a paper by his Aunt Szarlotta. Mrs. Pankratz ripped the betrothal contract in half.

“Yes,” Jaskier said, laughing. “I will marry you!”

Then they kissed on the chilly stone floor.

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

Dear Lady Iliana, Mayor of Gwendeith

The former contract has been voided. 

Szarlotta of Lettenhove

P.S. Geralt and Jaskier are engaged and send their love.

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

Holy Cow. 5603 words. I...I don’t even know what to say. I hope you like it.

[kashimos-hajime]

homestretch of the hard times | g.t.

summary: the eve days of your potential death kinda spurns things to move forward: for takemura, it means confessions. for you, it means making exceptions. and drinks. ‘cause takemura’s the pickiest fucking eater you’ve ever met.

WARNINGS: small spoilers for act 1 of cyberpunk 2077 and references to non-spoiler texts between takemura and v, just fluff, small angst, swearing, idk what else is going on so if there are actual spoilers thats completely coincedental ndlnskfsldnf pairing: goro takemura x fem!street-kid!v word count: 2.6k

a/n: so cdpr did us dirty for not allowing us to romance him (to my knowledge) but he has my mind, heart and everything else so :) listened to the bones by maren morris w/ hozier

part of the tales of a two-bit thief series

It starts with something straight out of a romance movie: A car crash, saving each other’s lives (well, him more than you) and “Wait, V, I need you.”

You don’t know how you got here, to be precise. There were a chain of events, some absolutely stand up fucking moments on your part, and just… fuckery. So much fuckery and life went to shit.

All you know is the ticking time bomb’s only ticking louder and at this point, the only thing that can silence it at all is the man beside you. Not even the meds Misty gave you can help you now. 

You’re sitting in his car because you called him and he had answered and now… now they’re on one of the off ramps looking over Night City like they own the fucking place.

Maybe you did, once. Ha, maybe back when everything seemed more job to job and not life to life. For a moment, maybe you were in the big leagues.

Takemura doesn’t say anything, even though you can tell he wants to. His hair still pulled into that man bun, collared shirt with not a single wrinkle in sight. Weird how he never looks out of place, not really. Not even with the car crash. Shit, he always looked good.

You think you’re actually gonna miss that. That one semblance of someone being put together that gave you the hope that maybe you could stick it too.

You think you’re gonna miss a lot of things about him—from his stupid complaints about the food here, to his stupid random philosophy texts in the day, to the fact that he eats the ramen you buy anyway without complaint, even though it’ll never compare to what he has in Japan.

The thought that counts.

They don’t even have the radio on, just the dim lights of the car, a window rolled down. You don’t smoke but you feel like you should be tapping a cig either way. You haven’t had the time to just fucking breathe—not with Silverhand breathing down your neck, corpo rats swarming you on all sides. 

Everyone wants a piece of you, it feels like. 

You look at Takemura.

Almost everyone.

“Thank you,” you tell him quietly, with difficulty. It’s hard to get through your words without thinking Silverhand’s behind your back, mocking you. You’re so fucking tired. “It hasn’t been easy.”

He doesn’t respond. He’s too busy looking at one of the cars nearly collide with a pedestrian. You could’ve laughed. You used to make fun of the shitty drivers in Night City, knowing full well you’re one of them.

You get chased by a couple of cops, rules start to bend.

You used to wonder why you never left.

Then, you actually left, and you realized that hell, you can take the person out of Night City—can’t take the Night City out of a person.

Atlanta fucking sucked, but maybe you should’ve stayed there.

But then, a tiny voice whispers as you look out the window to the fresh night wind. You never would’ve met him.

It’s funny, you think. To come back and get a brain tumour in the shape of a rocker who can’t fucking touch anyone who loves him, who he loved, only for you to fall in love with a corpo you can’t fucking touch at all because… because there is no time left. It just isn’t fair.

“I used to be a corpo kid,” you confess, looking at him with a wry smile again. That catches his attention. He looks at you with those eyes that scrutinize you, interrogate you, peel you apart to your bare essentials and you have to look away before you can’t control your face anymore. God fucking damn it. “Not when it mattered, obviously, but… I remember what it was like. Grew up hating every single on of them.”

“Your parents were Arasaka?”

“Mhm. Security division.” It’s like your eyes are magnetic to his because when you blink, you find yourself regarding him again. Your fingers play at your lips. “Counterintelligence. I was supposed to go into that, too. Big dreams.” 

“I see.”

“Yeah, then my parents were tried for treason and murdered, so I got thrown out. That’s it.” Your hand falls away. You pick at the chipped nail polish on your thumb. “Never told anyone that. ‘Cept…” Jackie. Well, he’s fucking dead, now. “‘Cept you, now, I guess. Guess some corpos aren’t so bad.”

The corner of his mouth pinches up like he’s flattered and you can’t help the pleased warmth spreading through your chest. 

“Should I be honoured I am one of the few exceptions you have made?”

“Well, I don’t make exceptions often, so…” You grin slyly. He looks away just as you catch a flash of his smile growing. It’s a nice smile. You wish you saw it more often before the end of the road. Maybe it’s one of the regrets you have, too. “Yeah, maybe you should feel special.”

“Hm.”

“C’mon, Takemura. Humour the walking dead, yeah?” You stretch against the leather of his car seat with a pleased sound. “I’m spending what time I have left with who I want to. Can’t ask for much better than that.” A quiet hangs in the air as you melt against the black leather and you look at Takemura who’s staring at the wheel with an intensity you don’t often see. It makes your gut squirm. 

“And I? I am one of those people?”

You lean on one hip and look at him, bending a knee and resting an ankle on your thigh. He looks at you with an uncertainty—an uncertainty you’re sure echoes in your eyes.

It was business, then it wasn’t. Maybe it never was.

“Yeah. You’re one of the few on the short list.”

“Exceptions again.”

You laugh. “Yeah. You’re an exception to most things, I think. Weird, that.”

“How so?”

“Ah, I don’t know. I’ve had family—still do, ones that matter, you know. Just… no one ever like you, Takemura. Drives me crazy.”

“The feeling is mutual. Your mocking brings you onto thin ice, V.” His fingers tap against the steering wheel. The engine’s off so it seems more fidgety than anything. Weird. You never noticed he fidgeted before. Maybe he’s nervous?

About what?

“I must ask you something.”

“Shoot.”

“If you have a future, what do you see for yourself?”

Your eyebrows shoot up. You frown and pick at your flecking nail polish even more, looking at your hand and focusing more on that so you don’t have to answer your question. His eyes burn into you and you swallow, trying not to act like you haven’t thought, in regret, at night, about a hundred million fucking times the possibilities they could’ve had together.

You’re not about to say all that.

Instead: “Settling down with the family. Mama Welles, people at the Coyote.” You blatantly don’t look at him when you add, “Others. This has been enough action for a lifetime.” You rest your hands on your lap and chance a glimpse at him. He’s looking away from you, out the window on his side, and you shift in your seat. “How about you? You must’ve… had dreams. Before all this shit went down. You make it out of here and then what?”

When he looks at you, your heart nearly cracks at the sadness in his eyes. He smiles, but there is no strength, and his eyes are darker than the night surrounding them.

“I would go to the countryside, just as I’ve always wanted. Leave this, all of this, behind. Rural Japan is beautiful, so a small town would suffice where everyone knows everyone. We do favours for one another. It is community. Nothing like here.” His lips pull into a tiny frown. “When I was a younger man, I wanted a daughter,” is all he says. “I believe I could have been a great father, so perhaps… perhaps one day.”

“A daughter? Not a son?” you ask curiously, and he almost chuckles. You can’t help the faint smile on your face. 

“If my daughter grew up anything like her mother,” he explains with a slight glance towards you, “I would have more hope than a son who was like me.”

You frown.  “You’re not a bad man, Takemura. Any son like you—with your code of honour, your shitty selfie skills—no one’s gotta a chance.”

He merely scoffs in response. Again, with the you mocking him. It’s a wonder he lets you.

“But really, that sounds… nice. A daughter, a wife.” You drum your fingers against your knee and his eyes dart to yours, click like they were always destined to meet, and your lips part. Words stall on your tongue and you want to speak but in the dim lights, you are lost in the darkness of his eyes. Something comes, something goes, and you barely croak out, “Whoever marries you will have to deal with so much of your shit that the kids have to turn out alright. The complaining, for one. Picky eater for another.”

This time, he does chuckle and you swallow a breath at the sound. “Dealing with it comes with practice, V.”

“Is that so?”

“Shouldn’t you know?”

“I—“ For once, no funny retort, no witty quip shoots out of your mouth, and you realize that there is an implication—an intricate dance where they’re struggling not to step on each other’s toes and nearly failing at every turn, yet somehow, it works because they’re dancing, and it’s quiet, and it’s… it’s peaceful.

Shit, you’re getting a load of this. When’d you become a poet?

“I guess I should know,” you finally say. “Never understood why I got so giddy whenever I saw your texts, you know, seein’ your name flash on my phone.” You laugh bitterly. “Guess I know why, now.” He’s silent and you don’t look at him. You look at the dashboard where you’ve kicked your feet up a dozen times, the glove compartment that still has your sunglasses inside.

Shit.

“Thank you for everything. Shit’s a little… more bearable, I guess. When you’re around, that is.” The words come out stilted, awkward, but your heart is so heavy in your throat you feel like you’re going to choke. You look into your lap, your whole body incinerating under what you’re sure is the most judgemental glare of your life and you just hope to fucking God this man says something, does something.

Holy shit. You’re going to die of embarrassment. Didn’t even think that was possible.

Then, a loud sigh. A sigh you’ve heard often enough beside you right before a gunfight or when he has to eat the food you ordered for him or even the nights when they’re exhausted, bruised, and just plain tired right before going to sleep where they lay on the floor.

It’s exasperated, a how on earth did we get here, a very annoyed again, you’re so fucking stupid, and you’re still running through your list on what this particular sigh can mean before a hand gently takes hold of yours. Your eyes dart to his, blinking and he stares at you like you’ve just stabbed him. Your heart is fucking racing in your chest, pounding like thunder. His fingers fold over and you realize, as you interlace fingers, that his skin is burning at your touch. 

Or maybe, it’s the other way around.

They sit there in silence, not looking at one another, looking out windows, parts of the car, everything but each other, and when he squeezes your hand, you close your eyes and swallow your heart.

It’s over.

“V,” he murmurs, voice so deathly quiet and raspy in your ears that your gut clenches. You turn to watch him. “Tell me that you will not stop fighting.” You swallow your breath as his eyes flicker from your own to your parted lips. He inhales quietly and you swear you can feel his heartbeat pulsing in his fingers in your grip. “That this is not all for nothing.”

“It isn’t.“

“Then I was right.” His eyes flutter back to your gaze and he tilts his head. Wisps of fine hair escaping his manbun brush over his nose and you reach up on your own accord, swiping it behind your ear. You lean over the console, your elbow digging into the leather and, tentatively, you trail your fingers down his jaw, hold his face in your hand. “I am… what is that phrase you use so often?”

“SNAFU?”

“No.”

“Assblasted.”

“No.”

“Royally fucked?”

“We need to expand your vocabulary.” You smile nefariously as his other hand reaches for your chin. He pinches it lightly, thumb stretching up to brush over your lips and your face freezes at his touch. “But yes. Royally fucked. I wasn’t wrong when I said I needed you.”

“I think that meant a whole something else back then,” you whisper rawly and he smiles sombrely. His thumb leaves your mouth to brush your cheek, his eyes fixing on you as if he’s trying to memorize aspects of your face: the arch of your nose, the bow of your smile, the way your brow wrinkles. “Meant more business-like.”

“I did. And now, I believe the terms have changed.” He arches an eyebrow. “Are we at a mutual understanding, V?”

“Yes.” And I hate that we are. Your hand along his jaw lifts to wrap around his wrist. “Consider that feeling mutual, yeah? It goes both ways.”

“I will.” Another small smile graces his lips. It makes him look younger every time and you rub your thumb over the back of his hand. 

“Do you wanna grab something to eat before you drive me back home for some shuteye?”

“The choices here are atrocious, V.”

“Then, drinks,” you propose, letting go of his wrist. He lets go of your chin, and turning to face the front, you kick up your feet on his dash. He stares at you for a moment then sighs because there really isn’t anything he can do about it. Nor, do you think, he wants to. You squeeze his hand and send him a silly smile. “How about drinks? I wasn’t hungry anyway.”

“Are you paying?”

You eye him incredulously. “Who do you take me for? You?”

He snorts and the engine roars to life with a flick of his wrist. He grabs the wheel dominantly and you swallow at the way his fingers wrap around the handle. “The Afterlife, then?”

“Or, we could make it rustic.” You pull his hand into your lap playfully and run a thumb over his knuckles. His eyes flit over and you send him a smirk. “I know Mama Welles doesn’t like you, but the Coyote’s serving cheap. Happen to like me there.” He begins to pull out of their little overhang and he nudges their joined hands into your abdomen, silently telling you to buckle in. Rolling your eyes, you mumble out a ‘boomer’ underneath your breath before letting go of him and following orders.

He settles a hand on your thigh and squeezes. You hang an arm out the window. 

The wind’s running through the car, he has the radio on low, and they’re easing through onto the highway.

Your chest is lighter than a feather, mind’s quieter than a ghost.

You’ve seen scarier deaths, dealt a lot more. You know that silence is a bigger killer than most bullets.

But here you are now…

“I’m changing this,” Takemura says. “This music is terrible.”

…Shit, maybe life isn’t so bad, ending the way it is.

[pinkoptics]

AU-gust 2021 Prompts

3. Hipsters / 16. Hippies

Erik detests hipsters and hippies and, to be honest, isn’t even sure what the difference is, nor does he particularly care. The things he will do for Charles…

Modern AU. Still have powers. Grumpy Erik. Adorable Charles. Meet Cute. Silliness.

3392 Words

*

Erik hated everything about this place.

Absolutely everything.

He could write a dissertation on its failings, which were abundant.

Its first sin was being directly across from his apartment building. When he looked out his window, he saw it. When he stepped out of the lobby doors, he saw it. When he pulled his car out of the parking garage, he saw it. It was an unavoidable part of every single day of his life.

Its second sin was what it had replaced. Previously, there had been a diner. A kosher diner. A diner that had tasted like his childhood. It had been a hole in the wall, never looked quite clean, but the coffee had been strong enough to caffeinate an elephant and the food almost as good as his mama’s. Most people had passed it by. Just another slightly dingy New York eatery that you didn’t give a second thought. Quiet. A refuge for those in the know. Then came the hipster gentrification, ruining not only his precious diner, but the neighbourhood in general.

Its third sin was its name. Plant. In and of itself the name ‘Plant’ was harmless, inoffensive. Just a word. It conjured images of a vegan eatery, bistro, restaurant, or maybe if taken 100% literally, a store that sold plants. All of which would have been fine. He had nothing against plants and, sure, he ate meat (kosher meat), but happily ate vegetarian dishes as well. But no, it was not a plant store or even a vegan eatery, it was a vegan coffeehouse. Coffee came from plants, Erik knew this, so the name passed on that technicality, but it did not scream ‘coffee.’ Why not ‘Bean’ if it needed to conform to the trendy one-word-naming that had for reasons unknown come with the gentrification. It was couched between ‘Table’ (a restaurant) and ‘Sweat’ (a boutique gym). Plant did not equal coffee, and that knowledge crawled under his skin every time he saw the stylized lettering.

Its fourth sin was the coffee. Erik wasn’t particularly picky about his brew, whether at home or out. Cheap diner swill, the finest Italian espresso, the Keurig at the office, the ridiculously expensive machine that produced the perfect cappuccino at Emma’s apartment, whatever. Plant’s beans were fine as beans went, the roast satisfactory, but then ruined with its accompaniments. They carried a variety of ‘mylks.’ Yes, with a ‘y’. He preferred lattes, and would have been fine with oat or almond— if only it was spelled with a fucking ‘i’. Every time he saw the pretentious letter, he felt the urge to take a sharpie and commit as many acts of misdemeanour graffiti as necessary until all the ‘y’s were gone.

Its fifth sin was its staff. He could have tolerated their always sunny dispositions (even if it were literally impossible for any customer service employee to be that happy all the time). He could have tolerated their ridiculous hipster (or was it hippy?) apparel, moustaches, beards and hairstyles (what was even the difference between the two?). What he could not handle was the way they called him ‘friend.’ Every. Single. Time. He could count his friends on one hand and none of them worked at Plant. Their ‘peace, love and joy’ vibe made him grind his teeth and wish he had a mutation that would allow him to send them back to the 1960s.

And yet…

“Good morning friend! Amazing day, right?” It was, in fact, pouring so hard the streets were borderline flooding. “Usual? Or do you want to try—”

Erik had long ago learned to immediately tune out the suggestions, but was sure he caught the word ‘sage.’ Who in their right fucking mind wanted sage in their coffee? Yes, he was inside the loathed establishment wasting precious brain cells wondering why anyone felt the need to mess with the simple perfection that was coffee and milk. Yes, he was there often enough that the employees knew him on sight. Yes, he had a usual order.

It wasn’t his fault.

It really wasn’t.

It was the fault of a pair of the bluest eyes he had ever seen.

This shouldn’t have been the case. The whole thing was ridiculous, utterly ridiculous. The entire story more at home on the W Network or Hallmark, than in his very real, not-a-rom-com, life. And yet, here he was, having his 24th latte with mylk in a row and questioning his very sanity.

It had all started, just over a month ago, directly in front of Plant. To this day, Erik wasn’t sure whose fault it had been. He’d been on his phone, eviscerating a junior partner for a monstrous fuck up, and so livid that he was not at all paying attention to his surroundings. The blue-eyed man he’d run into, however, had claimed equal distraction, so perhaps the blame rested on both of their shoulders.

They had crashed into each other— papers flew, his phone flipped through the air and they ended up in a heap on the sidewalk, Erik atop the smaller frame beneath him. Already late for work, already pissed off with the junior partner beyond reason, Erik had been ready to re-direct his anger and tear whoever it was a new one, when the aforementioned blue eyes had arrested the words in his throat. He had admitted this to no one. Hell, he barely admitted it in the sanctity of his own mind because he was not a 12 year old girl, but a senior partner in one of the most prestigious architecture firms in New York. He did not go soft over a pair of gorgeous eyes (except, apparently, that he did), particularly when he hadn’t even seen the face that went with the eyes, which could have been grotesquely unattractive (it wasn’t).

The mouth that went with the eyes was absurdly red and absurdly kissable. The face angelic. To his eternal, internal embarrassment he had thought that exact word— angelic. He wished he could have blamed his temporary insanity on hitting his head, but having fallen on top, he couldn’t. If anyone had a concussion it was the ocean-eyed, ruby-lipped angel man. The ruby lips had spluttered apologies in a gorgeous British accent (not something Erik had until now found to be a turn on) as they scrambled off each other, righting clothes and belongings.

“Your phone!” the man had moaned. “Is it all right?”

The screen did appear to have a crack, but in another moment of lunacy, Erik pocketed it before the Angel could see and muttered something about it being fine. Instead, Erik helped him to collect the papers that had fluttered every which way, including the road, where they were already being demolished by a steady stream of vehicles.

“I hope those weren’t important.”

The man laughed, it was a very nice sound. “Not as such, no. I’m sure my students will be delighted to hear that their papers were torn asunder. They already mock me for printing them at all. I could mark them on my laptop like a proper 21st century individual, but there’s something about the feel of paper and pen that I just cannot let go of. It’s— and, as I go on and see your expression, I realize a simple ‘no’ likely would have sufficed.”

What did he see in Erik’s expression? A man besotted? Enamoured? Smitten? Any other number of words he had never used in regard to himself or anyone else in his entire life? Fuck. Erik tried to school has face into its usual disdain for the world and ninety-nine percent of the people in it, but if he was as in control of his facial muscles as he was of his thoughts, he knew he was failing miserably.

Erik handed him the last of the papers they could possibly retrieve. “I agree— about the pen and paper, I mean.” He did. As incredible as design software was these days, he always started on paper. The precision needed to draw the perfect straight lines and angles of a new building gave him a feeling of immense satisfaction in a way little else did.

“Oh, well, glad I’m not the only one who hasn’t forsaken the old ways.”

His smile.

Fuck fuck fuck.

Erik cleared his throat. “Let me buy you a coffee.”

Had he just said that?

Traitorous voice.

Was he gesturing at Plant?

Traitorous body.

He’d never been inside. On principle. Apparently, principle flew out the window for charming British men with cornflower (cornflower?!) blue eyes. The man blinked those eyes, as though not expecting the kindness.

Erik gestured at the papers. “I’ve clearly set your work back and I’ve ruined your—” cardigan. Erik blinked as his clothes came into focus. The man he was suddenly, desperately, attracted to was wearing a baggy, grandpa cardigan. Erik began to wonder if he had never woken up that morning. Maybe he was still in bed, across the street. Maybe this was a fever dream.

“Oh! I’ve dozens more just like it. It’s nothing.” He swatted ineffectually at the dirt covering one sleeve.

“Please.”

The man cocked his head. “Well… all right.”

So Erik had. In the end it had been a tea, not coffee. Earl grey with mylk. The interaction had ended there, awkwardly. Most likely his own fault. He didn’t do flirting with random strangers he’d just plowed into on the street. He didn’t generally do flirting at all. Moreover, he was now very late and had the junior partner’s fuck ups to fix before this afternoon’s meeting with their client. So, he’d left, stumbling over his goodbyes.

The day that followed hadn’t afforded much opportunity to think on the chance encounter. Not with employees to castrate and clients to placate. It wasn’t until he was home, looking out the bank of front windows at Plant that his thoughts drifted back to Blue Eyes. Which was, unfortunately, what he had christened him in his head because he’d never gotten the man’s name. Erik had gone to bed, mind clouded with thoughts, dreamt of him, and woken up with those same thoughts. Emma had always said his was one of the most disciplined minds she had ever encountered.

So much for that.

It was only a complete loss of that discipline that could possibly explain why he’d unnecessarily crossed the street the next morning and entered the obnoxious establishment for a second time, without even a moment’s hesitation. His eyes had immediately scanned for a mop of just overlong brown hair (yes, he’d noted that too, as well as just how much he wanted to run his hands through it). When they’d landed upon said hair, curling delightfully upon Blue Eyes’ forehead, Erik had been genuinely surprised. This clearly made the man a Plant regular, which should have been a point against him — a massive point — yet here Erik was, seeking him out regardless. Blue Eyes had looked up at him then, gifting him with a smile and acknowledging him with a nod, before returning to a set of what Erik had to guess were re-printed term papers.

Such was the story of how Erik had become a regular customer with a regular order.

Most days Blue Eyes was there before he came in, sometimes working on laptop or in a notebook, other times reading a book or a journal. Erik had caught a title once — The Oxford Journal of Genetics — which led him to conclude, that along with clearly being a professor, this proved the man must have a brain to back up the looks. Another point in his favour, as Erik had no patience for stupidity, no matter how pretty a package it came in.

Erik’s day was such that he usually needed to take his order to go. The few days where he could scrape together a few extra minutes, he grabbed his own table. He hadn’t once attempted to kid himself that it was because he enjoyed the ambience— that level of denial would have been absurd. No, it was clearly so he could spend a few extra minutes trying to stare, in a way that wasn’t blatantly obvious, at his… crush. Crush. He might as well think the word because that’s what it was. Only days after meeting him, Erik had caught himself, pen poised, about to doodle hearts on his notepad at a meeting. The mental pinch and knowing look Emma had sent his way had made him extra testy for the rest of the day. The wide berth everyone but Emma had given him was a testament to that.

And yet…

He never approached Blue Eyes. They exchanged nods, occasional hellos, but never anything more. Out of all of his out of character behaviour — and there was a lot of it at this point — this rattled him most. Erik had a reputation in professional and personal circles. He was confident, forbidding, occasionally arrogant, and brazen in pursuing designs no one else thought possible to execute. Erik went after what he wanted in life with borderline fanaticism.

He did not sit and observe from afar, mentally warring with himself, while also berating himself, for not having the balls to ask to join him, or buy him another tea, or inquire as to what he was reading. There were any number of conversational openings, but 24th latte in, he still hadn’t taken any of them. With each passing day the side of him that decided against it (or ‘chickened out’ as the nastier part of his mind supplied) became stronger and stronger. Blue Eyes hadn’t engaged with him either. Maybe he wasn’t gay. Maybe Erik wasn’t his type. Maybe he was already in a relationship. The chances that he was being just as melodramatic as Erik was being in his own head seemed slim. So, Erik continued to act foolish — alternately wondering how long he would continue to do so and how good a kisser Blue Eyes might be with lips like that.

It was on latte #26 that everything changed— no thanks to Erik.

He had decided to sit at a table that day and engage in his usual ‘I’m staring but I’m not staring’ routine. He was in the ‘not-staring’ portion, scrolling through his emails without really paying attention to any of them, when he was startled out of it by the chair across from him suddenly becoming occupied.

Blue Eyes.

“I can’t take it anymore.”

“Wha—”

“You come in here every day. Every day. Sometimes you stay, sometimes you don’t. It’s baffling because there is one thing I know for certain— you hate it here. No, you loathe it. And, there are literally dozens of other coffee houses within walking distance. You clearly don’t belong—” Blue Eyes gestured up and down at what was likely Erik’s three piece suit, then at Plant in general, where there wasn’t a single person so much as sporting dress pants. Erik counted at least two man buns, one head of dreadlocks and a form of baggy pants Erik didn’t even have a name for. “—and I am fascinated by things that don’t belong. Things that don’t make sense. Puzzles. You don’t make sense. There is no way the coffee is that good. And yet, here you are. Oh! Where are my manners? I’m Charles.”

Blue Eyes — no, Charles — extended his hand across the table and, reflexively, Erik took it, shaking it gingerly.

Charles laughed. “I don’t bite. I entirely talk too much, ask anyone, but I don’t bite.”

Erik rather wished that he did.

“How did you— my suit?”

Thankfully, Charles seemed to follow his meaning. “Oh no, the suit is only corroborating evidence. As is the way you look down your nose at everything in here. It’s your mind.” Charles tapped his temple. “Telepath. I swear to you I haven’t dug any deeper than the surface swirl of utter distaste for this establishment. Then I’d know, wouldn’t I? Wouldn’t be here asking.”

Telepath. Blue E— Charles was a mutant. Erik was fairly certain his knees went a little weak. Good thing they were sitting. However… what on earth could he say? ‘I’ve essentially been stalking you’ hardly seemed like an opener that was going to get him where he wanted to be. Erik cleared his throat, buying time, as those keen eyes continued to look at him expectantly. While Erik wasn’t verbose, he also never found himself at a loss for words, except for here and now, where the truth was exceptionally embarrassing.

His pause, it seemed, went on too long because Charles jumped back into the fray. “Good lord, I’ve ambushed you, haven’t I? Clearly, you don’t have to answer the mad man who mowed you down on the sidewalk and then ambushed the peaceful solitude of your morning coffee. I apologize and will bugger right off if you tell me to. However, if it helps any, I don’t like it here either. It’s trying too bloody hard to be ‘on trend,’ isn’t it? For a cultural subset who pride themselves on not being pretentious they’ve entirely failed, haven’t they? And, I’m English, I know pretentious.” He laughed self-depreciatingly at that.

A beat for his mind to catch up to the second verbal barrage and Erik finally had a response. “If you like it as little as I do, then why are you here?”

Charles’ mouth formed a perfect little ‘o’ of surprise. He scratched the back of his neck and, for a moment, looked everywhere but Erik. “Blast. I’m caught, aren’t I?”

His cheeks reddened adorably. Since when did Erik find anything adorable? Since now, apparently. This man broke all of his rules.

Charles gave an adorable (christ) little shrug of his shoulders. “I suppose I best come clean.” He looked Erik squarely in the eye. “You’re gorgeous. You bought me tea. I came back thinking I’d ask you out. But you’re so… I lost my nerve. Have been doing the same daily ever since.”

“I’m so… ?”

The cheeks reddened further.

“Entirely too gorgeous for me.” Charles gestured at today’s grandfatherly cardigan. “Besides that—”

“You’re perfect.”

Fucking hell. When had his mind decided to say things without his permission?

It produced another, adorable, surprised little ‘o’. “I’m sorry— What?”

In for a penny…

“I had never set foot in Plant before we crashed into each other. Never would have because I do hate everything about it. Everything except you, who I thought were a regular—”

“I thought you were a regular.”

“— and wanted to ask you out.”

“I’d never been here before ei— you wanted to ask me out?”

They stopped, collective words sinking into respective minds.

Charles threw his head back, laughing. “If I didn’t know better—“ He tapped his temple again. “— I’d think you’re having me on.”

His laughter was infectious and Erik found he was smiling despite himself. He gave his own little shrug. “I don’t lie.”

“No, you don’t, do you? I can’t believe we both—”

“Me either.”

“This is too much. Wait… Why are we still here?”

“I’m sorry?”

Charles leaned forward and plucked Erik’s latte with oat mylk from his hand. “Can I buy you a coffee? A real coffee? Where they know how to spell the word milk? At the cafe I actually frequented before I began co-starring with you in a romcom so terrible my sister wouldn’t even watch it?”

He was already standing up, as if assured Erik would say yes, which every single bone in his body was blaring loudly for him to do. It didn’t seem to matter to any part of him that he would be blowing off work, a thought he discarded as quickly as it appeared. Just another out of character thing to add to the list. He followed. “I’m Erik, by the way.”

Charles looked back, as he collected his belongings, and grinned sheepishly. “I know.”

That was the last time Erik set foot in Plant until exactly a year later. He ordered latte #27 with Blue-Eyed Charles on his arm, after having crossed the street from their apartment, to celebrate their first anniversary. As Charles smiled at him over his Earl Gray with mylk, Erik found he couldn’t quite hate the damned coffee shop as much as he had before.

[johnnycranes]

How about Hanako, Takemura, Oda, Vik and Jackie proposing?

Hope these are fine!

HANAKO

When it comes to the people she loves, Hanako doesn't necessarily like flaunting such personal things to the public

Her brother does enough of that on his own

So it's a private affair when she proposes

Meaning inside the Arasaka complex, in her snazzy apartment. And she asks Oda to have the chefs cook the best food for dinner

On the outside she's perfectly calm and cool like she usually is.

But on the inside she's freaking out because what if you say no?

Being married to her means you'll have to deal with her crazy family and you can say goodbye to most of your private life

You're both having dinner like usual when suddenly your favorite dessert is served and the sound system plays your favorite song

You're too distracted by the smell of the dessert that you didn't notice Hanako move closer

Casually sliding a little box

That contains the most gorgeous ring you've ever seen in your life

You've been with her for a long time now (you'd have to, for her to trust you with her heart), so you know she's nervous even when she doesn't look it

She doesn't ask you the question, no

But she does explain as casually as possible how she always imagined her life would be as a married woman

Says she'll be busy a lot but she loves the idea of a family, of coming home to the people she loves after a stressful day at work

You put the ring on and squeeze her hand

Rarely does Hanako ever let her guard down, so the huge smile she gives is a pretty big deal

TAKEMURA

Ok so wanting to marry you comes out of the blue

It's so sudden like you could be watching Hideshi Hino or something and it'd just come to him

And that's also when he proposes

This man has been around long enough to know that if you want something

You grab it ASAP and don't let it go

Like his chance to leave Chiba-11

So there you are, eating good food that he cooked, watching Hideshi Hino, laughing

And he looks at you like he's just sure he knows what he wants

Says you two should get married

You laugh thinking he's not serious

But he really is

He's relieved when you say yes and he starts making some calls

His proposal may have been lackluster but dammit he loves you and you deserve a ring at least and a nice wedding

the thought of you wearing an engagement ring makes him feel so happy

Goro never imagined getting married

He thought the most he'd be married to was to his job

So seeing you wear that ring is a comforting reminder of how lucky he is

ODA

He's always out doing something for Hanako

It's really a long distance relationship so most of the time you're on the phone with him

He could be killing gangoons and casually on the phone with you at the same time like

"Oh hey sweetheart, i think i left my jacket at your place."

It's in this similar situation that he asks you

There he is, slicing and dicing while you're talking about your day and asking when you can see each other again

Oda suddenly realizes he can't imagine life without you and asks you to marry him

On the p h o n e

You're actually about to say yes when Hanako's voice chimes in

"Oda-kun, you are NOT asking them to marry you like this."

She immediately flies both you and Oda to a fancy restaurant in Tokyo, reserves it for just the two of you

She tells Oda to "get it right this time"

And so he does, down on one knee, nice engagement ring and everything

He laughs when you say you would've said yes the first time he asked too

He makes a mental note to check his calls more often

Who knows what else Hanako-sama listened in to

VIK

He shouldn't have asked Misty and Jackie to help him out with this

It's too obvious that something's up. He doesn't usually take you out to a fancy restaurant in corpo plaza

Misty thinks she's being so smart and doing it on your bday/anniversary/other special event so it wouldn't look too suspicious

But Vik still had a bad feeling about it all

And he was right

The date went horribly

Service was bad, a cyberpsycho attack took place not far from where you guys were

And even the traffic going home was insane cuz of all the damn MaxTac AVs

Vik never got the chance to propose

You end up on the roof of Misty's shop and Vik says sorry for such a shitty day

But when you laugh and say it was still good to spend it with him

THAT'S when he realized it was the perfect time to ask you

At home, nobody to bother you

After you say yes and you're both kissing, there's a camera flash

He wants to throttle Jackie and Misty who were watching and claiming it was all cuz of them

But he can't help but feel like surrounded by the people he loves, this really was the right way to do it

JACKIE

He's been thinking about asking you for w e e k s

And it shows during jobs cuz he gets easily distracted a lot more

It's Pepe who first notices that it's a "love problem" as he put it

And Mama Welles being Mama Welles, picks up on it as well

It's her who suggests that Jackie just go and ask, buy a ring, doesn't have to be fancy

But Jackie starts ranting about how he's so nervous and doesn't know if he's really ready

But Mama Welles reassures him that he's not his father, that marriage can still be happy

And that actually helps Jackie a lot

He proposes the very next day and is reminded once again how amazing his mother is when you joke that it took him long enough

He finds out later that Vik and Pepe placed bets on how long it'd be before he finally asked

Vik won

They celebrate at his mother's bar and Jackie's next problem is his mom asking about grandkids

But first, drinks

[cupcakemolotov]

Match My Heart to Yours

Okay, since the Exchange reveals have been pushed back until Thursday (for very, very good reasons) I have decided to post a tiny thing to hopefully tide people over. I do sort of intend to write more on this, but I have been stalled for a few months which means I need to change things up. So here is the first bit, hopefully you all like it!

You can also read it here on A03.

Synopsis: Enzo has an plan. Caroline has some serious doubts, because first all, werewolf, hot or not. Alpha, even. A political marriage to a man with his dimples seems like a terrible idea.

                                                            -

Caroline paused, chopsticks hovering over her container of fried rice. Across from her, Enzo looked relaxed, no real tension visible as he reached for another eggroll. “Excuse me?”

“Gorgeous…”

She narrowed her eyes at his placating tone. “I should have known your offer to pick up dinner two towns over was a bribe. You don’t even like Chinese food. You cannot be serious.”

Her witchy best friend would walk through fire for her, but perfect egg rolls an hour after they’d been picked up should have dinged as an obvious bribe. Though this was not nearly big enough. 

“Would I have made the drive if I wasn’t serious?” Enzo asked, sighing when her expression didn’t budge. “You know what I do. What I really do.”

Her gaze dropped to his wrist were a tattoo wound along the bones and tendons, the ink black and red, starkly visible against the olive of his skin. Usually he used the modern advances in makeup to hide what no magic could, because sometimes people were less understanding about this particular quirk of his magic than others. She’d never had a problem with it, but she was human and had no desire for his services. 

Caroline speared a piece of shrimp and narrowed her eyes in warning. “I am very aware of what you do with your magic when you aren’t perfecting fireballs and lightning strikes, Enzo. No need to be rude.”

“Care…”

She chewed carefully, giving herself a moment so she didn’t do something stupid like throw the food at him. The wood floors were brand new. “I’m human. No witchy bloodlines for ten generations or more, and definitely not a werewolf. São Paulo proved that. In spades. So, seriously, there is zero reason for your magic to like me for this.”

A faint grimace. São Paulo had not been a good time. Not for anyone. 

“You know it doesn’t always work like that,” he said patiently, dunking his egg roll repeatedly into the sweet and sour sauce, his expression wry. “Sometimes my magic has a mind of its own.”

She rolled her eyes. “Enzo, tell me something I don’t know.”

A small laugh escaped him. “True.”

“Have I ever done anything, absolutely anything, that would make you think I’d want to have a matchmaker stick their nosy magic in my life?” Caroline set her chopsticks down and started closing containers, her appetite gone. 

A sigh. “No.”

“Damn straight. Isn’t there some kind of ritual involved? Blood magic? The romance novels I read on this subject insisted consent was a factor and blood had to be given willingly, much to the displeasure of several southern mamas.”

He deliberately finished his eggroll, sauce-soggy rice paper and all, chewing methodically. “Normally. This isn’t a… usual situation.”

“Normally?” Sitting back, Caroline waved her hand. “The food buys you an explanation. So start talking.”

Enzo leaned back, chair creaking, and ran a hand through his dark hair. “Look, you’ve been in Europe the last, what? Six months?” 

“Eight, and should I be hurt you weren’t counting?”

He snorted. “You spent the last eight months chasing diamonds. Busy enough you even stopped answering texts in a timely manner, so I imagine you haven’t kept up with what’s been going on.”

“Excuse you? What text did I not respond to?”

“Emoji’s are not words, Caroline.”

Caroline pressed her chin to her palm, gaze narrowed. “Stop being old, Enzo. And let’s be clear. It’s not like I was chasing just any diamonds. These were expensive. The kind of expensive we peons can never actually afford to legally own.”

Enzo rolled his eyes. “I’ve seen your rate sheet. You do just fine.”

She grinned at him. “Thank you, I do very good work. But what does my previous job have to do with the completely ridiculous proposal you brought me?”

“Mason died.”

Caroline arched a brow. “Yeah, I saw. That was impossible to miss. International news, all those TV Pundits talking about who would take over as the US Alpha, blah blah politics. Since he had the bad taste to die outside of a challenge fight, I didn’t have time to worry about it.”

Enzo put the plastic lid back on the sweet and sour sauce, his expression unhappy. “That’s the problem. He did die in a challenge fight.”

“Huh?”

He sighed and pushed his chair back. “This is a bit of a complicated story. As nice as these chairs are, something a little more comfortable might not be adverse.”

“You’re not getting any of the beer in my fridge until I’m sure I’m not kicking you out.” She narrowed her eyes. “The odds are not in your favor.”

“Cruel, but I suppose well deserved.” His chin tipped towards his car, expression amused. “Is now a good time to mention the cheesecake in the trunk of my car?”

“Enzo!”

He laughed and sauntered into her living room, flopping his favorite squishy chair. Caroline picked the couch. She motioned for him to start talking, and he slouched a little further down.

“Look, a lot of this isn’t common knowledge, alright?” Enzo grimaced. “Though it should be and I’m not sure how much longer they are going to manage to keep a lid on how badly the Council screwed this up.”

“Cover up?”

“Among other problems.”

“Mason was their darling.” And, she knew, some factions had whispered, their pawn. She reached up and shoved her bangs back to hide her wince. “Losing a wolf so pro-witch would have been a blow. Losing the top Alpha who was also pro-witch is a political travesty.”

“Political travesty or not, Mason’s dead, and they’re going to have to deal with the new Alpha. He isn’t known for his tolerance.”

“Most werewolves are suspicious of magic,” Caroline pointed out, curling one leg underneath her. “Can’t really blame ‘em, with how they ended up as werewolves. Vengeance, magical curse. That sort of thing tends to sour peoples opinions, and then you know centuries later, they really improved things with their required silver legislation.”

“Yeah, you’re not wrong, but that’s not the kind of tolerance I am talking about.” He leaned back against the chair, and lifted his foot towards the coffee table, pausing, gaze darting towards her narrowed eyes. His foot thumped back against the floor. “The short version is that Mason was challenged, he lost, and the Witch’s Council, for lack of better words, bungled the announcement.”

“How do you bungle an announcement? Challengers have official channels they have to go through and everything.” She pointed at the TV. “They’ve even started wanting to televise the damn things, like it’s some kind of wrestling bout and not a fight to the death.”

Enzo rubbed a hand down his face. “From everything that I’ve been able to tell, Mason just… didn’t expect to lose.”

“That makes no sense. Mason wasn’t young, even by werewolf standards,” Caroline said slowly. “There have been rumors in Europe that he should have been disposed of as much as a century ago. They aren’t really sure why the packs here haven't risen up against him, particularly after the whole issue with his nephew abducting his bride after she’d been paired by the matchmakers to someone else.”

“Tyler Lockwood leads more with his dick than his brains,” Enzo agreed. “And that should have weakened Mason politically, spurring a few challenges. That it didn’t…”

“It’s only been ten years, and that isn’t that long for a werewolf,” Caroline pointed out. “It’s reasonable that the family of the disappointed groom would just now be in a position themselves to pick a fight. Hayley’s family is old blood but not particularly powerful.”

Enzo gave her a dry look. “When do werewolves ever wait to pick fights?”

“When they are going up against the top Alpha in the US and need public opinion behind them. The general public expects a dominance fight or a natural cause of death for all alphas,” she said dryly. 

He nodded in approval. “For someone so disparaging of politics earlier, you do have an excellent grasp of the situation.”

Caroline tossed a cushion at him, which he caught with a grin. “Please, my Mom was the Sheriff and Dad, well, you know Dad. Conspiracy theories and hatred of anything that so much whiffed of the unnatural. But none of that explains what actually happened?”

“We think Mason was using magic to win his challenge fights.”

Her lips parted. “But that’s… the packs would riot. Because something like that…”

“It’s something the Witch Council had to be involved in.”

She inhaled sharply. “That would be a disaster.”

“It is a disaster,” Enzo said bitterly. “There have already been two executions, and several investigations are still pending. We’ve managed to convince the new alpha to hold back the public announcement, but he’s losing patience. We need a solid infrastructure of a plan in place, because humans don’t do well with surprises of this kind, and right now we’re barely holding the alliances together.”

“And what?” Caroline asked exasperated. “The remaining Council has decided to hire a matchmaker? They think since the new Alpha is single, they must be in want of a partner? You’re going to announce the change of leadership, the challenge fight, and then announce he agreed to be matchmade?”

“Something like that.”

“Who is going to trust the Council after something like this?” She shoved her hair away from her face. “If I was the Alpha, I wouldn’t touch anything that they touch with a ten foot pole. That includes matchmaking.”

“I wasn’t hired by the Council, though a couple of my… co-workers have taken those contracts.” He seemed to consider his words and then shrugged. “I was hired by Bekah.”

“Rebekah Mikaelson?” She said, brows arching high. “Why is she involved in this? And I thought you two didn't get along. The last time you were in the same room, she lit your precious robes on fire.”

Enzo’s mouth curved into a slow smile full of male satisfaction. “She’s an odd one, but it’s not the worst way I’ve had someone flirt with me.”

“And the time she declared matchmaking the worst magical school in existence and she hoped you did the world a favor and never reproduced?”

“Charming, isn’t she? I don’t think she really likes children in general.” He looked unbothered. “The bit about my magic was just an attempt to be clever. Her insults have gotten better the more she gets to know me. I appreciate her dedication to getting my attention.”

“Yes, and that is what I am going to put on your gravestone. You finally got the attention you always wanted.” Caroline shook her head. “Insults and spells aside, why did she hire you?”

“Because the Witch Council is right, in a way. It’s going to come out that Mason lost a challenge fight and the witches tried to cover it up.” Enzo reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. “A werewolf who is newly matched has more appeal than a single one, and it’s not a terrible way to divert the press.”

“Is he worried about appeal? Why are you worried about his appeal?” She threw up her hands. “He killed Mason. He is now unequivocally in charge. Why does appeal matter?”

“We need stability.” Enzo’s face went grave. “We can’t afford a year of dominance fights when we’re already struggling with sorting through Mason’s people for traitors. Announcing a match buys us time.”

Caroline froze. “You want the year truce.”

“We need that year, Gorgeous. I’m not sure we’ll survive without it. Pairing off the new alpha? It’s the only way we’re going to get it.”

“And you want me to marry him? Why?”

“Why not you? You’re smart, resourceful, and not bad on the eyes. That you're from a small town will add to your appeal. Small town girl meets werewolf Alpha, and it’s a match. People will love you.”

“I’m a Finder, Enzo. That’s not exactly the most politically correct of jobs.” Her gaze narrowed. “Am I even going to be able to keep working if I agree to this?”

“Once things stabilize, sure, why not?”

“You’re really selling this.”

Enzo shrugged. “You know that one of the true weaknesses of Mason’s was that he refused to find a mate or even attempt a match.”

There had seemingly been a good reason for that. Werewolves were blessed with supernatural strength, a lifespan that more than tripled a normal human’s, and were highly territorial. Most of the time, those instincts could be driven towards their pack and maintaining the careful balance that the world existed in. A werewolf in love was a dangerous creature. Werewolves fighting over their lovers more so.

It was why Enzo’s magic existed. 

“Uh huh,” Caroline drawled, unconvinced. “You're really going to tell an Alpha he can’t claim what’s his unless he agrees to a match, the very thing the last alpha decried as unnecessary. How’s that going? I bet not well.”

“The sooner you say yes, the better, then.”

She glowered at him, but he looked unrepentant.

“Seriously Enzo, matchmaking magic or not, this cannot be your best plan. I cannot be the absolute best idea you have for this.”

“Why not?” He leaned back. “From where I’m sitting, it’s a fantastic plan.”

Caroline’s jaw dropped and she stared at him. He was serious. She knew that set of his jaw, the glint behind his eyes. Matchmaking wasn’t a science, it was magic. A fail safe, a terrible and beautiful promise: that somewhere out there, somewhere, maybe, a soulmate existed. And if you were lucky enough, maybe magic would find them for you.

“Enzo, seriously this time. Why even ask me? You know I’ve never been interested in matchmaking with a werewolf or witch. I like my life.” She spread her arms to include the house. “What you're asking me to do, asking of me, it changes everything. Why?”

He was quiet for several moments, his gaze unfocused. When he spoke, his voice was strangely serious. “My magic likes the match.”

She considered that, shifting to hug her knees to her chest. She’d been friends with Enzo since she was seventeen years old and she’d dragged his half unconscious body out of a car wreck that should have killed him. In turn, he’d been there for her when her mom died and her dad disappeared. He’d helped her get established in her career of choice, even though he’d been disapproving of the reasons why she’d chosen to go into it. 

She trusted him. 

Enzo liked to hide what he could do because he was so good at what he did, and she’d seen him drunk more than once post-match. His magic was not… unkind, but it wasn’t easy, what it demanded of him. To put two people together, with the intention that they’d make a relationship work for possibly hundreds of years. The weight of success and the pain of failure were both so heavy. 

Enzo did not match lightly. 

His magic liked the match. 

Her stomach flipped as she really considered what that meant. No such thing as soul mates, Enzo always insisted, just the endless probabilities of human lives narrowed to a single red thread between two people. And here, he said, was her chance to see if this probability would work for her. 

She couldn’t decide what that made her feel.

“You swear this isn’t about Dad?”

A tip of his head. “While I have no compunction about putting a few hundred werewolves between you and whatever mess he left behind, it’s not about him. You were right. My magic should never have considered you for this. You’ve never wanted to find a match, and honestly, I’ve always liked that about you. And nothing about this is going to be easy. But when Rebekah brought me his blood, all my magic could see was you and the potential you two had together. I could no more deny you the chance to say yes than breathe.”

She groaned under her breath. “This could be a disaster. You know I hate politics, and I’m an only child. I’m terrible at sharing. He’s alpha. Nothing he does is his alone.”

“I know. The circumstances are unusual, so they’ve been willing to negotiate generous terms if things don’t work.” Enzo grinned. “No one wants to trap either of you, not when all parties know that magic isn’t infallible.”

She eyed him. “I don’t like it when you think you’ve got it all figured out.”

A laugh. “Come with me to New York. Give it two years. A year for the truce, a year to fortify whatever weaknesses his enemies attempt to manipulate. At the end, if you want out, no one will stop you. I’ll dissolve the marriage myself. No loopholes.”

Enzo never dissolved marriages. That, more than anything, told her how serious he was about giving her an out. How badly they needed to truce. 

“I guess you really do have this all figured out.” 

“I wish I did, but we both know that’s impossible with something like this. I can only read the magic, and tell you what I see. But I’ll do everything I can to help you.” He smiled ruefully. “We’ve gotten good at hiding bodies, what’s a few more?”

Caroline wasn’t sure she should have found that comforting, but she did. “And just who am I agreeing to consider marrying?”

Enzo suddenly coughed and stood, a familiar hint of devilment twisting his lips. “Klaus Mikaelson.”

She spluttered. “Klaus Mikaelson? You want me to marry Klaus? He killed Mason?”

His smile widened. “Yes.”

Caroline gawked at him. Before she’d gone to Europe, Klaus Mikaelson had been the third most powerful Alpha. Young, handsome, devastatingly charming, he made people forget just how terrifying he could be with a pair of dimples that raised the blood pressure of every woman past puberty. 

He was also Rebekah Mikaelson’s half brother. 

Enzo had been entertaining her for years about the Mikaelson sibling dynamic. Klaus had not been spared in those stories, and while she’d never met him, she knew two very important things: he was built on lines that had always, always snagged her attention, and the sharp temper of his wolf, the brutality of his temper, hid a clever, agile mind that made him dangerous to underestimate.

“Enzo!” She protested. “Klaus?”

Sliding his hands in his pockets, he spun towards her door. “Yup.”

“Just where do you think you are going?”

Enzo tossed her a grin over his shoulder. “To get your cheesecake. You didn’t think I lied about that, did you? And you might as well fetch me that beer. We both know I’m not going anywhere until tomorrow, at the earliest.”

Caroline stared at his back as the door clanged behind him, heart hammering in her throat for a hundred reasons she couldn’t explain.

[lovelyirony]

the much anticipated second part for the amnesia-related fic. 

A wedding ring. 

This doesn’t mean that he and Tony are married except that he hasn’t seen Tony with a wedding ring and he hasn’t mentioned a wife and he doesn’t sound like he has a wife and if Rhodey-if Jim had a wife, then wouldn’t he know about her? Wouldn’t they have met by now? He may not know Tony yet, but he doesn’t think that he would be that cruel. 

“Colonel Rhodes-” 

“Friday, don’t,” Jim says, swatting at the air. “What-why did you hide that from me?” 

“Sir believed it would be best,” Friday answers, tone almost quieter. “He...wasn’t sure that you would understand.” 

“I don’t understand,” he says. “Why would I marry him of all people? He’s not exactly my type.” 

“Since I am a learning program, I cannot say for sure. Humans do a lot of illogical things.” 

He’s trying to wrap his head around it and avoid Tony at the same time. 

Friday won’t let him see any wedding pictures, not until he remembers more. 

- 

Even though he’s been (mostly) successful at avoiding Tony for about a week and a half, the man is still so nice. 

He’s still operating under the assumption that Jim has no idea that they’re married, and he does stuff like leave out a cup of coffee and offer breakfast up or ask if he wants pizza for dinner.

Jim reads too much into it. 

And he doesn’t know why, because it’s not like anything has really changed, except for the fact that Tony won’t call him Rhodey. 

Jim gave him permission to, saw how much it killed him with every correction and every reminder. Told him “you can call me Rhodey, if you want.” 

And he doesn’t. 

Tony never does. 

He still almost says it, but Jim is quicker on the tongue, and he doesn’t make a move to try to push any memories at all. 

(Even though he remembers how happy Tony was to hear that memory about grocery shopping and Dum-E’s code source.) 

He does want to remember. He wants to remember why he apparently married Tony and was genuine about it, why Pepper and him are best friends and never were anything more, why he’s...why he’s so different from what he wanted. 

-

Tony knows that Jim’s acting differently. He’s not sure why. He’s not sure he wants to know why, because that might complicate everything. 

And he doesn’t want another thing to be wrong. Everyone’s walking on eggshells around him except for the one damn person that probably should be, but Rhodey’s never been good at following rules. (But he’s good at fooling people.) 

Pepper talks to Tony a lot. Asks him how he’s doing, if there’s anything she can do. 

Repair someone’s memory is a little bit outside of her area of expertise. 

“It’ll be okay,” she says, putting her tiny hand over his. “Things will work out.” 

They both know that in Tony’s life, luck has never been quite what it seems. Or existent at all, at times. 

-

Ironically, it’s their anniversary of the wedding when Jim remembers something else. It actually comes in the form of looking in the fridge and not finding his apples. 

“Quit leaving honey-crisp off of the list just because you don’t like them you asshole,” he calls to Tony. 

Tony almost yelps. 

“Out of everything in your life and that’s what you remember? Your stupidly sweet apples?” 

“Are you gonna get them?” 

“Why don’t you come with me?” Tony asks, “just so that you can get your apples and maybe get out of the house for once.” 

“Hmph. Fine,” Jim answers. “Where’s my coat?” 

“Uh...” Tony trails off, trying to find the words. “Third peg on the...right, I think?” 

“You’ve known me for years, and you don’t know where my coat is?” 

Rhodey is always the one to hang up his coat, and then put his arms out for Tony’s. 

“To be fair, I am important and fancy and a big deal,” Tony scoffs. “Come on, go get your coat and then I’m going to show you what horrible things you buy from the store.” 

“It’s not that bad. And what, you don’t like good apples?” 

“As sour as can be, sourpatch. As sour as can be.” 

-

Grocery shopping with Tony is...interesting. He didn’t think it would take so long. 

“This is why you don’t usually come,” Tony teases him. “I take so long and you end up sitting in the car and cursing at Pepper or Happy about how much time I spend dedicated to snack-judging.” 

“And I put up with that?” 

“You do,” Tony says, grabbing the cart. “Because you love me and you deal with a lot worse from me.” 

“Like what?” 

“Best not to talk about it,” Tony says. “We’re in public after all, honey.” 

“Ugh, boo,” Rhodey teases. “Give me the list. I bet I can speed-run this.” 

“How? Technically, you don’t think you’ve ever been to this store before!” Tony exclaims with a gigantic, shit-eating grin. 

“Way to rub it in you bastard,” he says with a laugh. “Now come on, I wanna see what kind of salad you think we’re gonna get.” 

“Not you thinking you’re going to be eating junk food,” Tony sighs. 

“I lost my memory!” 

“That would’ve worked, like, two weeks ago. Now I know better.” 

Grocery shopping is...fun. They make fun of foods and different products, and Tony shows him which things he might like. 

“I like...I like fruit salad?” 

“Yes, yes you do Rhodey-dear,” Tony says. “Your favorite thing in the world for fruit.” 

“Seems suspicious.” 

“You’ll have to try it again, then.” 

Rhodey watches him as they’re shopping. He’s easy to be around, honestly. He has that sort of energy that makes you feel like he’s just happy to be in that moment. 

Tony also has very questionable taste in everything. 

“Quinoa?” 

“What? You’ve eaten it before! It’s not your least favorite thing that I’ve cooked?” 

“How is it not? Is it because I’m old?” 

“No, not because you’re old,” Tony scowls. “When you’d come back from the service, you’d eat literally anything I put in front of you. I once gave you a block of cheese and you just sat there. Eating it.” 

“There’s no way I did that.” 

“You did! Ask Pepper, she has a picture of it!” 

He goes back to quiet after that, remembering the picture. 

-

Jim isn’t even sure he wants to bring it up. He’s not even sure if he could love Tony again, and somehow that thought makes his head hurt. 

He knows that apparently, he fell in love once. 

So he needs answers. 

-

Jim had talked to his parents, but he hadn’t really had an opportunity to talk about anything important. Try as he had to get more information out of them, they weren’t giving much up, except for parts about his military achievements and funny stories that he’s written to them about. 

When he gets back home and he sees Mama, she knows. 

“Come here baby,” she says, putting him into her arms. “Let me answer your questions.” 

“Why him?” 

Mama laughs, grinning up at him from her place on the couch. 

“You reacted like this when you first started rooming together, too. I was worried that I’d be involved in a court case for attempted murder!” 

“And you weren’t?” 

“No,” Mama answers. “Instead, I get no phone call from you for three weeks, until the day before your holiday break started, and you told me that you were bringing who you used to call ‘the biggest nuisance since fruit flies’ home to Thanksgiving.” 

“Why did I...why did I bring him?” 

“I didn’t get that answered until he fell asleep,” she says. “I’m making you some coffee, alright dear?” 

“Okay, so long as I get an answer.” 

“So impatient,” she mutters as she makes her way to the kitchen, Jim following. 

He watches how easily his mom pours the coffee, and remembers in a brief flash that Tony always would bring the fancy, flavored creamer to the holiday events. 

“Oh come on,” Tony said. “You have gotten too used to my kindness, and there’s no reason to stop being kind. Besides, remember last year when you nearly cried because I bought creamer from the store? Yeah, not having a repeat of that.” 

“And would that be so bad?” he teased Tony, wrapping an arm around his waist, and-

He blinks. 

That was...that was definitely a new kind of memory. 

“James, are you alright?” His mother is looking at him, and maybe she knows, maybe she doesn’t know that he just remembered something. He’s honestly not sure. 

“Uh, yeah. Fine. I’m good.” 

Mama looks across the room, smiling. 

“He was a timid little thing when he got here. Fixed up the washing machine when it broke, just in time. Nearly wore a suit to dinner, said you didn’t tell him what kind of ‘casual’ we were going for...” 

He snorts as he slowly remembers that one. 

“What do you mean you didn’t mean a suit?!” Tony had wailed, gripping Rhodey’s shirt. “You said I had to dress nice!” 

“I meant literally anything but your Black Sabbath shirt!” 

“Why would I have worn my Black Sabbath shirt? Your mom would probably think I was a Satanist!” 

They both look at each other for a moment, and Rhodey’s the first one to break and laugh. 

“Listen you idiot, it won’t be so bad. We can just ditch the coat, ditch the tie, and you’ll be...okay. A bit nicer than most of us, but hey. That’s what I get for not telling you that suits are weird.” 

“Suits are not weird, you’re just uneducated in what is sophisticated,” Tony says, turning his nose up as Rhodey rolls his eyes. 

“Oh yeah, sure, because knowing which one is the dessert spoon is going to help me save people abroad. My bad.” 

Tony looks back at him, and his heart skips a beat. It does. Really, it does. 

It almost feels like someone’s reading back to him what he already knows at this point. 

His mom squeezes his hand, smiling. 

“You remember at least some of it, don’t you?” 

“Well...uh, yeah? I-I do.” 

“Does Tony know that you know that you’re...married?” 

“No,” Rhodey says. “I know some, but not enough.” 

“Give him a chance,” she says. “And get back home, I’m sure he’s missing you.” 

Rhodey embraces his mother, and prepares for the drive home. 

- 

Being missed is a weird concept to deal with. 

He also did not exactly think of that. So he’s currently driving back and checked his phone to seven missed calls from Tony, three from Pepper, and one text from Happy that simply reads “lol ur dead hahaha good luckkkkk” 

Well shit. 

Tony, understandably is pissed and scared and a tad upset. 

Not a tad. 

“Where were you?” He says as soon as Rhodey appears back in the kitchen. Tony’s hands wander close, and he almost leans in. 

Almost. 

“I was visiting my parents,” he responds. “Sorry, forgot to text.” 

“Please remember next time, your-well, Tony’s annoying when you leave,” Pepper says. 

(Okay Rhodey doesn’t know how they got away with this for so long, it’s really, really obvious that they’ve been covering it up.) 

“I will,” Rhodey says. “Did I miss anything?” 

“I’ve elected that we’re going to cook tonight,” Tony declares. “I am absolutely sick to death of takeout, and I’m pretty sure that with your lack of knowledge on recipes now, I have you beat in the kitchen.” 

“I can still read recipes, you dumbass. Besides, I just remembered your stupid ‘bake’ hack for your stupid casserole dish, so...” 

“Out of everything, and that’s the thing you remember today?!” 

“Well, I also remembered that apparently you wore a suit to my house for Thanksgiving!” 

Tony stops. 

“What else you remember from that, or was it just that?” 

He doesn’t want to say anything in front of Pepper, doesn’t want to say anything just yet. 

“I remember that you were weird about your suit!” 

Tony deflates a bit, but still smiles. 

God, he looks gorgeous. 

Rhodey blinks. Shakes his head out of the thought.

“So. What are we cooking?” 

- 

Tony and cooking is a very interesting concept because it shouldn’t work. 

He never stops moving, can lose interest quickly, and Rhodey would think that he could burn water. 

But he doesn’t. Tony hums along to music, and he tells him all about his favorite songs and why. 

It’s not any rock music, any heavy metal. 

“I don’t listen to that all the time,” Tony says. “You always think I do!” 

“Oh right, because someone who personally has Angus Young’s number just casually isn’t someone who listens to the band all the time, sure,” Rhodey says sarcastically. 

Tony grins, and it’s probably the best damned thing he’s seen all day. 

His heart zings at the realization that Tony smiling is what makes him smile now, what makes him want to stay and learn so much more about how they came to be, what they’ve done together. 

-

Dinner is fun. Tony tells him all about college and what they used to do, and what Rhodey had done. 

Memories are coming back easier. 

“You totally emailed the professor really petty responses!” Tony cries, laughing. 

“It wasn’t that petty,” Rhodey said, huffing. “He was an asshole anyway, he hated whenever we would come late because we wanted coffee, and your order was too complicated!” 

“It wasn’t that complicated!” 

“Oh I’m sorry, them having it written down behind the register for when you come in?” 

“Oh, like they didn’t have a description of you.” 

“Yeah, as your long-suffering companion,” Rhodey teases. 

“You’ve always been,” Tony says. “Because you’re the best.” 

Rhodey stops stirring the pot for a moment. 

“Rhodey? What is it?” 

“I...” 

Tony stands there, grinning. He’s nervously fidgeting, and it’s his move to say the vows. 

“You know, I wasn’t ever sure you’d be up to marrying someone like me,” Tony confesses. “Especially since I almost burned down our dorm room one time.” 

“Wasn’t just one time,” Rhodey teases. “But carry on.” 

“You loser,” Tony says. “Even now, interrupting my heartfelt moment.” 

There’s a ripple of laughter from the small crowd that’s gathered. Rhodey smiles at him, feels tears prick up around his eyes. 

“But I knew that I loved you ever since you would always buy my favorite ramen even though you hated it, and you were the one to get the pizza when I was sad. I knew I wanted the chance of seeing you every day, coming home to you at the end of the day. You’re home, Rhodey. You’re it. No one else could ever possibly hold a candle compared to you.” 

Rhodey startles, looking at Tony. 

“I...I remember. I remember!” 

“Remember what?” Tony asks cautiously. 

(He can’t be let down. Not again.) 

“You smashed cake in my face at our wedding!” Rhodey yells. “And we got married! We got married! Where the fuck is my ring?” 

Tony laughs, scooping Rhodey into a hug. 

“I can’t believe you remember.” 

“Well I was bound to at some point,” Rhodey says. “I can be smart, doofus.” 

“Don’t call me ‘doofus’ during an emotional outburst you absolute nimrod!” 

“I’ll call my husband whatever I want,” he teases, “although I still wanna know where my ring is.” 

“Come with me and get it,” Tony says. “I hid them in my room, just in case.” 

It’s all coming back, the steps they take, the way that Tony supports him as he moves slower. 

Iron Man, for one. War Machine the next. The dates they went on, the proposal. 

The rings are simple. They’re also not wedding rings. 

The class rings. 

Rhodey remembers getting them, remembers getting his initials and Tony’s on the inside, remembers how Tony made some “adjustments” after they received them. 

“You know that you got me,” Tony had told him. 

It slides on, and it feels right. Feels like something was missing. 

He looks up at Tony, smiling. 

“Show me the pictures, Tony.” 

- 

Pepper walks in to find Rhodey absolutely terrorizing Tony about the decor choices from the reception. 

“So I agreed with red and gold? I had no problem with it?” 

“Well, I did do some major convincing, so...” 

“What does that mean?!” 

"You’ll remember later and be sad,” Pepper says. “Or happy. But please don’t tell me if you remember it.” 

“You loved the color scheme,” Tony says. “Because you love me!” 

“Now I am doubting,” Rhodey declares. “I loved you enough to have those colors?” 

“You lost a bet, Boss,” Friday interjects. “That’s why there were those themes.” 

“Friday,” Tony whines. “Why snitch on your creator like this?” 

“I am not programmed to have loyalty, Sir.” 

Rhodey laughs, taking Tony’s hand in his. 

“Well, I guess I’ll still love you. Even if our wedding theme was weird.” 

“It wasn’t that weird!” 

-

It takes about another month before all of the memories are all back to normal, and in that time Rhodey learns (and relearns) a couple of things: 

1.) The best feeling in the world is waking up to Tony, who sleeps very lightly and also wacked Rhodey in the face a total of ten times. (That’s not a new thing, he remembers.) 

2.) He special-orders peppermint-flavored coffee creamer. 

3.) Tony was lying when he said that Rhodey’s new favorite movie was The Goonies. 

(He mostly forgave him for that one.) 

[porcelain-blue]

Stray Dogs Seem to Follow

What if Cangse Sanren and Wei Changze did not die? What if they, along with Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen, start their dream sect where no bloodlines matter, only skill and hard work?

The all-star trained-by-an-immortal cast is honestly reason enough for random rogue cultivators to start to flock to them, but the truth is the reputations that draw people are not one of battle prowess, but of human decency, humility, and a penchant for treating people equally between farmers and gentry. 

YilingWei is a small but growing power in the cultivation world, and through Wei Changze has an alliance with the Jiang Clan, and through Cangze Sanren, has an alliance with GusuLan. Many of the other sects dislike this very much, because nobody likes to see the idea that noble blood actually doesn’t really matter be proven so soundly.  Wei Wuxian has an uncanny ability for picking up strays. 

Stray #1: Wei Wuxian is ambling around Yueyang, let loose with uncle Song Lan at a good pace watching him, when he sees a kid get beaten up for asking for a reward of a snack. He darts forward, catching a fist and stepping to the side so the man is twisted under his knee in one smooth motion. Training had been going well, and he thinks mama would be proud.  The man sputters, face red, and makes all sorts of demands, puffing and going on and on about the YueyangChang. 

Wei Wuxian, professional brat and heir to YilingWei, lets the man go with a light shove that sends him kneeling into the dirt, and speaks, heaping on extra insolence just for fun.

“Ah, well. Sorry, gongzi, I’m not from here, so I don’t know who is who around these parts,” he sing-songs, moving to help the very battered kid up from the ground. He looks like he’s about his age. He beams at him, although the kid is looking at him warily. “But my mama tells me you can’t make promises you can’t keep, and a rich gongzi like you surely can buy some candy to pay for your errands, can’t you?” 

“Who the fuck are you, brat? You think you can speak to me like this?” The man seems to be reaching forward, ready to strike, and Wei Wuxian is ready to throw down, but his uncle Song Lan steps smoothly between them, bows with grace to the man and asks softly what the matter is. 

“Has our young master Wei gotten himself into trouble again?” Song Lan asks, all civil and gentlemanly and terrifying. The Distant Snow and Cold Frost is recognisable to most, and Wei Wuxian watches as the man puts two and two together. That said, YilingWei isn’t that prestigious a clan to warrant that much respect, but the man clearly knows he is outclassed. He turns in a bad temper, stomping away.  Song Lan turns to him, raises an eyebrow, and then bends down to speak to the kid who is fidgeting behind Wei Wuxian.  “Haizi, don’t worry, we mean no harm. Will you tell gege your name?” The kid looks at the two of them warily, eyeing their simple clothing, their lack of ornament. “Xue Yang,” he mutters.  “Alright, A-Yang, A-Ying, will you tell gege what happened?” Wei Wuxian sticks his tongue out at his uncle. “That guy was being an ass! Yang-di did something for him for a snack and he got all mad!” He huffs, annoyed. “We should have beat him up.”  Song Lan waits to see if Xue Yang will dispute the story, and when the kid just looks at his feet, angry tears in his eyes, he sighs. Grabs Wei Wuxian by the scruff of his robes and puts a gentle hand on Xue Yang’s head.  “Come on, gege was getting hungry anyways. I was going to get some food. I’m sure A-Ying will want too many snacks, but if there’s two of you, you can share, hm?” He starts walking away.  Wei Wuxian grins. “Uncle is really a pushover, c’mon, I want some tanghulu. Do you have any family? Our sect is great, we don’t care who or where you’re from. You wanna come see?”  Xue Yang blinks at him, lets his wrist get grabbed and towed away, buoyed by the promise of tanghulu and snacks. Maybe this time it won’t end in suffering.  ----------

Stray #2:  It’s the third day of the discussion conference in Lanling, and while Wei Wuxian had been dragged by his parents to attend and bow and get his everything commented, he had finally bargained the day off, cheeks sore from getting pinched by random and well-meaning older aunties. He grabs Xue Yang and uncle Xingchen, badgering them into going to town with him. He wants to try Lanling street food! He’s heard the baozi are really good! It’s about lunchtime when they wander into a food stall that smells amazing, but before they can order there’s a commotion.  “Stay away from us, you son of a whore!” A scuffle, and there, a kid is being pushed down, his baozi thrown onto the floor.  “Yeah, I bet you’re full of disease, just like your mother!” another kid, bigger and meaner, spits on the ground. Gross. The kid on the floor looks incensed at this, eyes flashing, but before he can do anything his hair is being yanked and he’s gasping in pain.  Wei Wuxian has really got to stop meeting peers like this. He slants a look at Xue Yang, who has gone still and tense. Xue Yang hates these kinds of people the most. They step into the stall together, and while he’s tempted to really mess around with these guys, he probably shouldn’t make a fuss during a discussion conference, or mama will make them do drills for hours.  So he nudges Xue Yang forward, and his shidi grips the hand holding the boy’s hair hard enough that the bones creak, until the bully is gasping in pain and wrenching back, letting go of the younger boy. Wei Wuxian helps the kid up, makes sure he’s alright.  “Who the fuck are you guys?” the kids say, and Wei Wuxian notices that they’re in Jin gold. Gross. It occurs to him then that they probably also cannot make a fuss during LanlingJin’s discussion conference, so Wei Wuxian just grins his most diplomatic smile, throws an exaggerated bow and says, “Wei Wuxian, heir to YilingWei, at your service! This is my shidi Xue Chengmei! We compliment LanlingJin for hosting our sect. LanlingJin must be very rich, if minor disciples can afford to waste food like this!” He waves an airy hand at the remains of the boy’s baozi scattered across the floor. One of the Jin boys sneer, “We don’t have to care about commoners and trash like that,” he spits, but is clearly not willing to challenge a sect heir outright. Xue Yang is still pissed, so he puts a hand on the sword at his hip, and narrows his eyes at them.  “YilingWei strongly discourages actions and words like that,” he says. And the threat is very, very much implied.  Eventally, Uncle Xingchen appears, smoothes things over, and sends the Jins on their way. Wei Wuxian turns round to the kid who is looking at them with wide doe eyes, half afraid, half in awe.  “This Meng Yao thanks the two honored cultivators for their assistance,” he murmurs, polite and formal, but the hands folded in front of his bow are trembling.  Wei Wuxian scrunches his nose as Xue Yang ambles off to buy three baozi from the lady at the front of the stall. It’s kind of nice, Wei Wuxian thinks absently, that Xue Yang gets to feed other kids, now. 

“Aw, none of that,” Wei Wuxian says, pulling the kid’s hands apart and lifting him back upright. “We’re all common folk here, aren’t we, Yang-di!”  “Aren’t you the heir of the Wei Sect, gongzi?” Meng Yao asks.  “Well, yeah, but my dad was born a servant. Anyways our sect doesn’t care about that sort of stuff. You want a baozi? I’m sorry yours got thrown.”  Meng Yao accepts a baozi and eats it with more elegance than Wei Wuxian has ever seen. He doesn’t finish, though, even though he’s obviously still hungry.  “Saving it for later?” Xue Yang asks, eyeing him.

Meng Yao shakes his head gently. “My mother, ah. She works at a brothel, as I’m sure you heard earlier. They don’t... they don’t feed her much if she doesn’t work enough.”  They sit there for a moment, three kids digesting the weight of the world. The moment passes, though, and Wei Wuxian darts back to the front of the store to get another baozi, and some other snacks wrapped up in paper to go. He gestures at them to come out, and the trail after him.  “C’mon, I got some extra food for your mom. Can you take us to her?”  Meng Yao blanches for a moment, obviously torn. He nods, after a moment, and they walk a ways to the establishment where Meng Shi works. Meng Yao fidgets for a moment, but gestures them in through a side door. They meet Meng Yao’s mother, who looks a lot like him, She thanks them graciously for the food, and asks them questions about their sword, and the cultivation world in general. They’re not there for long before Wei Wuxian’s yaopei glows softly, and he winces.  At the two pairs of delicately raised eyebrows, he answers, “Mama’s using her tracking talisman.”  Meng Shi laughs, then, a clear, high sound. She slaps a delicate hand on the table in mirth. “Oh, I wish I had one of those for my boy here! Your mother would make a killing if she sold those!”  Before he can reply, he hears a scuffle, a few shouts of “Excuse me, You can’t be here!” before his mother thows the doors open and stomps in, stopping before them to stare her son and disciple down. “Well boys, aren’t you two a little young to be in a place like this?” she says archly.  Meng Shi rises gracefully, bowing low. “Ah, we beg your forgiveness, your boys were helping my son with some trouble, and were kind enough to bring me some food. Please let me repay you for their troubles.”  Meng Yao looks alarmed at that, but he doesn’t say anything. Cangse Sanren looks at the whole scene, narrows her eyes at her son before waving her hands at the other woman. She pushes her son and Xue Yang’s heads down roughly, making them bow.  “No, no, thank you for keeping my boys out of trouble!” she says, and the two women stare at each other for a beat, before they both smile and sit down at the table in unison.  “Psst. Mama, can we bring them back? “ Wei Wuxian asks, tugging on her sleeve. She sighs at him, and then directs her question to Meng Shi. “Well, Meng-guniang. It looks like my boys have made friends with your son here, and to be honest, we’d like some more young disciples. Would you want to come with us?” 

Meng Shi looks taken aback. She thinks of Jin Guangshan and his many empty promises. She thinks of her son, and wonders if he will make a good cultivator in Yiling black and white instead of Jin gold. She knows, that of the two sects, only one has been kind to her son so far. But still. “I’m a prostitute. What use could YilingWei have for a woman like me?”  Cangse Sanren looks straight at her. “You can read?”  She nods. It is her one pride. “I can sing, and play erhu. I can sew” The othe woman nods. “You can teach my boys manners, too, it seems. We will take you, if you come with us. You would have to work your debt off, but, we wouldn’t ask you to do it like this. There are other girls, who come from your line of work. They help us with accounts and sewing and whatever else they are deft at.”  Meng Shi looks at her son, notes the way his eyes are wide and guileless. He has yet to learn how to lie and scheme and seduce his way into power. He looks at the two other boys, who look away at the scantily dressed women who walk by and smile at them, who are young and strong and seem to not care about her sons birth.  She stands, and bows deeply. “We humbly request a place in YilingWei.”  Cangse Sanren smiles, and leads the way, three boys trotting along at her heels as she goes off in search of her husband. It’s time to go home. 

[ackermansupremacy]

aa ok i saw that requests are open and i have one i think you’ll like!! so since mother’s day is coming up and you are the Resident Provider™️ of marley kid content,, what would they do for their moms on mother’s day?? this idea is so cute i had to share lol <3

NOOO OMG I LOVE THIS SO MUCH AHHHH three people have told me that when they think of Udo’s mom they think of me. I have won.

Gabi

Oh you’re getting a hand made gift for sure

She’s going above and beyond

Shes had it planned for months now

The night before she focuses on making you a random appliance that you’ve been wanting

50% chance that it’ll work

She makes you a handmade card with a nice message signed in pencil

And even gets a head start by making you breakfast in bed with undercooked yet burned food

And even a bouquet of roses she cut herself (much to your new neighbors prize winning rosebush dismay)

She hypes the gift up that day too

“Aw, thank you Gabi!....what is it?” “Its a coffee press! Like you wanted!”

Can’t even lie your impressed with the functionality of it

Considering she tinkered it purely out of recycled glass and other materials

Even though its functional (barely) you don’t use it because it has too much sentimental value

And you were so proud of her that you didn’t want to risk breaking it

Her mothers days are always special and full of surprises

Falco

So considerate about it

Yet hes competing with Colt to see whos the better child

Colt decides to go with the good old “buy moms affection” approach, by buying you lots of things

Falco, broke, decides to go the easier more sentimental route

He scrounges together the little bit of money he has left and decides to make a photo album of pictures from his childhood until now

He buys stickers, a pretty designed binder, and gel pens from a cheap craftstore nearby

He even gets a usb and prints off all the family pictures you’ve had on your computer for years

He doesn’t work on it until the night before mothers day, because he didn’t want you to accidentally stumble across it

He works on it all night the night before mothers day

He decorates each page differently with a corresponding picture and writes lovely on each page

Hes so proud of it when he gives it to you, its so caring and thoughtful of him it probably makes you tear up a little bit

What a sweetheart omg

Zofia

Ah yes our little artist

Shes another kiddo that goes above and beyond for you

Her 3am thought have her up at night thinking about how much you do for her and one holiday dedicated to that is simply not enough

And she knows she can’t possibly buy something with her saved up allowance money to thank you for being the amazing mother you are

She’ll probably get you a little gift basket with some of your favorite things in it

In the weeks leading up to mothers say she’ll probably ask you questions like “Whats your favorite candy?” Or “Whats your favorite candle scent?”

She’ll get you a flower bouquet and finesse Reiner into buying a bottle of fancy wine with the last little bit of her savings

The gift basket is really nice, although she doesn’t think it really compares to the gifts that her friends gave their moms

So she throws in a little painting of something symbolic between the two of you

Maybe a homage to a tv show or movie you like watching together, a memory from her childhood or even a running joke between the two of you

You appreciate it a lot :) and it creates another really precious memory between the two of you

Udo

MY BABY

He probably goes for the more simple approach

Its no secret that Udo is a complete Mama’s boy

So he knows exactly what to get you, and he knows what you would value the most

He saves up for awhile and decides he’s gonna get you a locket you’ve had your eye on for awhile

Everytime you see it, you always say exactly what picture of the two of you that you would keep in it

And he gets that exact picture put into it

He picks a small bouquet of wildflowers you always compliment whenever you drive past them and makes you a simple breakfast

And even commits to making you dinner that night

He also makes you a handmade card with a lot of effort and decorations put into it with a nice handwritten message

He probably goes on a speech about how much he loves you and appreciates you and how you’re an amazing mom

And he probably apologizes for not being able to do more for you on such a special day

But its okay because hes made the day so special for both of you

Happy late mothers day to any and all mothers!!

This one made me DESPERATELY need to hide my obvious Udo bias

Thanks for requesting! I hope you enjoyed!

[erin-bo-berin]

Growing Family

MASTERLIST

Woo I’m finally back to writing some! It feels like it’s been a lot longer than it actually has since I’ve posted a new fic. I hate to disappoint, but this is just fluffy daddy Spencer today, but I am working on a few new smuts that should be coming up next so stay tuned for those! Also shout out to @velventeenaries for coming up with some of the lines Rossi said when we were having a convo on this situation. Thus, the inspiration for this fic was born. Happy reading!

Spencer Reid/Reader

Rating: G (fluff)

Word Count: 2,557

“Penny G at your service, how may I help you?”

You smiled at the familiar female voice that came through the speakers of your car.

“Hey Penelope,” you said.

“Y/N! My favorite non-BAU chica! What can I do for you, today?”

You chuckled knowing good and well the chipper, eccentric and kind hearted blonde was most likely swinging in her chair, twirling a feathery pen in her hands as you spoke.

“I was just curious if the rest of the team was back yet? If so, I wanted to swing by before heading home. I just got out of my doctor’s appointment.”

“Please tell me you have ultrasound pics!” Penelope’s voice grew in excitement.

“That I do,” you grinned.

“Okay, good. Yes, they’re here and you better be here in 5 minutes or less or I will hunt you down for those pictures. PG out.”

You shook your head, exasperated by the usual antics of Penelope Garcia. She was basically the fairy godmother tech analyst of the Behavioral Analysis Unit—the department of the FBI where your husband Spencer worked.

Just recently in the last few months, you and Spencer had found out you were pregnant. Being that it was yours and his first baby, the excitement was unreal but it wasn’t just limited to the two of you. The rest of the BAU were just as excited too.

Garcia was maybe on another level of excitement though. She was already planning on things to buy for the newest BAU baby. It had been almost four years since a new little bundle of joy had arrived within the extended BAU family. Rose Mary Simmons, the fifth and final child of team member Matt Simmons and his wife Kristy, was no longer a baby. She was speeding towards four and would be starting kindergarten in only a year and a half.

“You know I love all my godsons and goddaughters,” Penelope had told you, not long after you and Spencer had announced your happy event, “But I need more baby love in my life and thank God you’re having a baby. I will happily babysit any time you want.”

“Oh, Garcia,” you snickered to yourself, thinking back on the memory as you maneuvered your car through the busy D.C. traffic.

As you’d told Garcia, you’d just gone to your latest doctor’s appointment. You were about 15 weeks along and already showing more than you expected to, which peaked your curiosity. If you were to guess, you could easily pass for 5 almost 6 months pregnant, not barely 4.

You had planned to ask the doctor at today’s appointment if she was sure it wasn’t twins. You had a strong feeling it was. Being only 15 weeks though, you’d only had one prior ultrasound around 7 weeks—not long after you’d discovered your pregnancy and even then, the ultrasound had revealed only one heartbeat. Typically, an expectant mother didn’t have another ultrasound until around 20 weeks, obviously to determine the sex, but your doctor thought it best to check. If anything, it was possible that you were just carrying further forward than usual. According to Spencer—and the many times he’d told you this—it was extremely possible it was just the way your body carried pregnancy. You knew well enough that bump sizes varied greatly.

You’d hoped Spencer could join you for today’s appointment—one that had been scheduled last month—but unfortunately, he’d been away on a case with the team and was on the way home.

You told him you could easily reschedule, but he heard nothing of it.

“You’re going today. Just to make sure little one is okay. You can show me the pictures when we’re back,” he’d said to you, earlier that morning, over the phone.

You’d reluctantly agreed.

But now, you couldn’t help but smile at the little secret you had.

•

“There she is!” Garcia squealed, running towards you practically the moment you stepped foot out of the elevator.

“Hey, Penelope,” you smiled, embracing your friend.

“How are we feeling?” she grinned, pulling away to rub your bump, “Is it twins like you thought?”

You chuckled, knowing Garcia wasted no time in getting to the point.

“Well, about that…” you took her arm, walking with her into the doors of the BAU.

-

You’d filled Garcia in on the way towards the briefing room where most of the team had settled for the time being, just trying to relax after the trip home. If her huge smile was any indicator, Spencer would know before you could even get the words out.

“Whoa! If it isn’t baby mama Reid,” Luke grinned, coming to give you a brotherly side hug, “Wow, you’re enormous.”

Garcia’s eyes widened, swinging an arm out to hit Luke’s chest—hard.

“Ow! Uh enormously beautiful I mean. You’re glowing,” he tried to cover.

“Nice save,” you laughed, heading over to your husband, who was anxiously awaiting to wrap his arms around you.

“You idiot,” you heard Penelope mumble to Luke, “You never tell a pregnant woman how big they are.”

You bit back a laugh and melted into Spencer’s embrace. He’d been gone for almost a week and you’d missed him, a lot.

“Hi, baby,” he grinned, picking you up as he hugged you.

You bent your legs slightly as you were lifted a few inches off the ground and hugged his neck, tightly.

“Soon you won’t be able to do this,” you laughed, then waved to the rest of the team in the room, “Hi guys.”

You patted Spencer’s shoulder lightly.

“Spence, set me down long enough so I can say hi to everyone and not be rude,” you laughed.

He obliged with a grin, giving a quick pat to your bump and you went to hug Tara, JJ and Matt.

“What’d you find out?” JJ asked, “Spence mentioned you had a doctor’s appointment today.”

“Well…” you trailed off, nervously.

“Is the baby okay?!” Spencer asked, his face morphing into panicked concern, his brows furrowed.

“Everything’s fine,” you reassured quickly, “But it’s not just a baby,” you said hesitantly.

His eyebrows rose, looking shocked.

“It’s twins?”

“Not exactly,” you laughed hesitantly, “We’re having triplets.”

Spencer looked as shocked as you felt when the technician had told you the same news. To know you weren’t growing one baby but three.

He stood for a second, blinking at you in surprise. You were about to say something when you suddenly realized how pale he was. He swayed on his feet before falling backwards.

“Spence!”

“Spencer!”

“Reid!”

Everyone shouted at once, your shriek of his name probably the loudest. They all moved into action at once as you stood horrified, afraid something was terribly wrong.

Luckily, Matt had been quick enough to catch Spencer before he hit the ground. With he and Luke on either side, they managed to sit him in one of the chairs, his head lolling back.

“Is he okay? What’s wrong?” you asked, quickly at his side, not knowing exactly what to do.

“He’s fine, he just passed out, that’s all,” Tara reassured you.

You nodded in relief, taking a seat in a chair next to him, taking his hand. 

There was a commotion at the door and you looked over, seeing David Rossi running in—unit chief Emily Prentiss on his heels.

“What’s all the noise about?” Rossi asked, eyeing Spencer, “What happened?”

“Spencer fainted and Y/N’s having triplets!” Garcia exclaimed.

Rossi’s eyes flickered to Spencer once again.

“Nah, kid’s just sleeping. Making up for the next 18 years of it he’s gonna lose.”

“Dave,” Emily sighed, exasperated, coming over to bend down and hug you.

“Congrats,” she grinned, “Not only are you having triplets, but you’re the only person that’s made Spencer faint.”

You laughed a bit.

“Definitely wasn’t my intention.”

“He’ll be fine,” Rossi waved a hand.

Just as he said that, a groaning came from your right and you looked over, to see Spencer stirring.

“What did I tell you?” Rossi said, coming over to give his congratulations with a big smile.

“Bouna fortuna,” he grinned, giving you a kiss on each cheek.

“What happened?” Spencer groaned, his hand slipping from your grip to rub at his eyes.

“You just got the shock of your life, kid,” Rossi snickered.

“The last thing I remember is you saying triplets and everything went black,” Spencer said.

“Yeah, you fainted,” you tried to hold back your grin and failed.

“Are we really having triplets?” Spencer asked, eyes wide once again.

“I’m afraid we are,” you grinned.

His look of surprise quickly turned into one of excitement. He grabbed your face, kissing you hard, not caring about kissing you in front of the others. The rest of the team whistled, clapped and laughed, their joy just as huge as your own.

Rossi’s following remark made Spencer pull away from your lips and laugh. Your mouth curved upwards and joined him.

“Don’t forget! David is a great name for a boy!”

•

Everyone was gathered at your baby shower. You had been speechless when you first saw the amount of stacked diapers and wipes—along with at least 5 diaper cakes from different team members. You were sure that those would last maybe a week or two with three babies to change.

“Kid, come on! We’re a family! I’ll be grandpa Dave! We can get matching shirts that say Big Dave and Little Dave!”

You laughed, overhearing Rossi’s exclamations to Spencer, all the way from the food table.

Months had passed and your belly had grown exponentially. You could hardly believe that your body was capable of carrying three precious little babies.

Even though your belly was covered in stretch marks, your back hurt and your feet were swollen, you couldn’t be happier. You and Spencer would soon start a new chapter in your lives—a scary one, albeit exciting one too.

Only a few weeks after your reveal of the babies to Spencer and the BAU team, the two of you had discovered you were welcoming two girls and one boy. Ever since then, Rossi had been hounding you about naming the baby after him.

Unbeknownst to him, you and Spencer had already picked out names and were going to surprise Rossi after they were born. But due to his current banter with Spencer, you knew you wouldn’t be able to hold the secret for any longer.

“Rossi,” you grinned, very much waddling over to the two men, “You're incorrigible.”

“I know. It’s the Italian in me,” he replied, nonchalantly.

“Well, much to Spencer’s dismay I’m sure, you’ll be happy to know you’re getting your wish,” you said.

Rossi looked stunned for a moment. You were positive this was the only time in the years you’d known him that he’d ever been stunned speechless like this.

“We decided to name our son David Gabriel Reid,” Spencer beamed, “We didn’t want to cause any confusion on names, so we’re going to call him Gabriel, but he can still be your little Dave if you want.”

It finally looked like it had sunk in when Rossi pulled both you and Spencer into a big hug, smiling bigger than you’d ever thought possible.

“That’s perfectly fine by me,” he grinned, kissing the tops of yours and Spencer’s heads, “I’m gonna teach him to play ball and how to cook spaghetti carbonara.”

“Don’t forget, you’ll have two little girls to deal with too,” Spencer laughed.

“Oh don’t you worry. They’ll learn how to cook and drop kick anyone who even looks at them the wrong way,” Rossi smirked.

“That, I don’t doubt,” you snickered.

“Speaking of,” Tara asked, popping up in the conversation, “When are you going to tell us what you’re naming your three little geniuses?”

“Yeah, I wanna know too,” Luke piped in, also walking up to the now small gathering.

JJ, Matt, Emily and Penelope followed behind him.

“Well if you didn’t catch it before, Baby A—the boy—is going to be David Gabriel,” Spencer beamed, “After the best father figure, mentor, co-worker, friend and member of this crazy BAU family. I couldn’t think of a better name to give my son.”

There were cheers all around as everyone lifted their glasses of champagne—apple juice for you—and clinked them together in celebration. You couldn’t help the huge grin that spread across your face to see how happy it made the well known, lovable, David Rossi.

“What about the girls’ names though?” Emily asked once the noise had settled down.

“Well there’s a bit of a backstory to that before we tell you the names,” Spencer began.

“We chose Gabriel’s name together because we already knew we wanted to actually make part of his name after Rossi, but we each picked a name, separately. One for each girl. Spencer decided on a name for baby B and I, baby C.”

“It’s also kinda funny what we both came up with,” Spencer interjected.

“Before the babies are born, kid!” Rossi said, “What are the names?”

“Baby B is Abrielle Jade—a name Y/N said she wanted to name a little girl on our very first date.”

Luke whistled.

“I’d be surprised that you remembered that but then again, you’re you.”

“Believe me, I’d forgotten I’d told him that, myself,” you chuckled.”

“And the other little girl is?” JJ prompted.

“Spensa Rae,” you said, looking at Spencer, a twinkle in your eye, “I wanted to name her after her daddy in some way, but it’s unique enough to be her own name as well. Rae is after my grandmother, too.”

“Those are the cutest names!” Garcia squealed, “Perfect timing time to give you my present for little Gabriel, Abrielle and Spensa then.”

She hobbled off in a partial run—not able to move too fast because of the grass in the backyard and her high heels—and grabbed three gift bags. She came back, handing them to you.

“Open it, open it!” she beamed.

You laughed at her excitement, pretty excited yourself. You handed one bag to Spencer as you reached into one bag, then the second, pulling out two matching onesies.

You looked over to see Spencer pulling out a third matching onesie from the gift bag you’d given him.

“Read the front,” Penelope beamed.

Opening one, you saw it read Rossi’s Sous Chef #2.

You laughed, opening the other which had the exact same thing printed on the front, but instead of the number 2, there was a number 3. 

You peered at the one in Spencer’s hands, finding number one. 

“Penelope, these are great!” you laughed, showing Rossi the outfits.

“These babies are going to be so loved,” Spencer smiled demurely, his eyes shining bright with tears.

“They will have plenty of people to love them,” Tara said with a bright smile.

“Lots of arms to hold them and cuddle them,” Luke added.

“Hands to help change diapers,” JJ piped in.

“Lots of kisses and bedtime stories,” Rossi said.

“Plenty of kids to play with them,” Matt chuckled.

“And a godmother to spoil them!” Garcia beamed.

“It’s not just your little family growing,” Emily smiled, coming to stand in between you and Spencer, wrapping an arm around each of you.

She looked around at the team that filled the backyard on this wonderful, summer evening, all gathered to celebrate the miracle of life.

“It’s our BAU family growing, too.”

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[cygnetofthesea]

Happy Mother’s Day, Iris

In honor of Mother’s Day, here’s a little bit of Iris celebrating with her family. Happy Mother’s Day to all the loving, doting mothers and mother figures!

On AO3

It was the smell of fresh coffee and the touch of soft lips pressing against her cheek and lips that woke her up. She kept her eyes closed as a smile broke across her face and the kisses traveled up to her lids.

She sighed in complete and utter contentment, reaching up to thread her fingers through her husband's hair. She stroked the thick locks, feeling his hum against her skin.

"Happy Mother's Day," he greeted her softly

"Thank you. How are the babies?" she murmured, her voice raspy from lack of use.

"Perfect as always."

Iris burst out laughing, finally opening her eyes to see Barry sprawled horizontally on his side of the bed, fully dressed and his legs dangling off the side. She leaned over and kissed the space between his brows, endeared by his goofy smile.

"Perfect, huh? I mean, they are perfectly beautiful but well-behaved? I don't know about that."

"They sure take the 'terrible twos' to the next level," he agreed. "The parenting books definitely were not written with them in mind. Want to sleep in a little more? You might need it."

He brushed a strand of hair from her forehead as she shook her head. "Uh-uh, I want to see the tornado twins."

They shared a smile, remembering how Cisco gave Nora and Bart the nickname after they had started vibrating slightly in place. They found that when the brother and sister were together and playing with McSnurtle, their excitement went up a level that caused them to vibrate in place. Barry and Iris had lunged to grab them before anything else could happen but it was safe to say, they kept the babies' interaction with McSnurtle to a minimum until Cisco finished his dampening bracelets for them.

Barry's smile dropped slightly, looking off to the side. She knew that look: his speed force senses were tingling, which meant the babies were acting up again.

Barry sped away and in a flash brought back little Bart and Nora in his arms as Iris sat up in bed. Her face lit up, any traces of grogginess washing away at the sight of her gorgeous babies. Her heart felt like they had doubled in size as she reached over to grab the nearest baby, Bart.

He made grabby hands at her, settling them on her hair and locket when she kissed his chubby cheeks. She leaned over to smooch Nora's too as Barry settled in next to her.

"It’s like      your    speed force senses were tingling," he said with a chuckle. "They spotted McSnurtle."

"Mama, Snurtle play!" Nora squealed before leaning over Barry's arm and turning to her mom as though she had the turtle she so coveted.

"Sn-snurtle play, Mama," Bart repeated looking at his mom inquisitively.

Iris smooched both her babies again after brushing their wispy curls. "Not today, babes. We're going to try to make it without incident today. Ok?" she asked, nodding with a smile.

The twins were only two-years old but it didn't stop Iris from talking to them like they understood complex language. She just loved the wide-eyed looks they gave her in return. Plus, Barry more than made up for it in the baby-talk department.

Case in point, he was leaning over Nora just then, adopting a goofy voice. "You wanna pway with McSnurtle the turtle? You want to pway wid him? Yes you dooo."

Nora just gave him the same wide-eyed look Bart had just given her. "Snurtle!" she repeated as though attempting to conjure him up.

Barry turned Nora to face Bart more fully and Iris did the same with Bart. They found when they didn't get their way, the best thing to do was let them play with each other and they'd forget all about their baby plights.

Barry grinned at Iris crookedly as the babies fought against their holds to play with each other. They released them, keeping a careful eye on their crawling bodies.

"I wanted you to have breakfast in bed without interruptions," Barry said, taking hold of her hand.

It was only then Iris noticed the familiar rolling breakfast tray covered with an assortment of her favorite foods and a single frangipani that could only be found in Bali. She spotted some familiar foods that definitely were not from Central City.

"Oh my god!" she squealed, drawing the attention of her babies before they turned back to their light wrestling. "Is that pan au chocolate from Gérard Mulot?" she asked in a perfect French accent.

It was her favorite bakery in Paris that she took Barry to on their third anniversary. She had fallen in love with the place that Barry made sure to get it for every special occasion or really, whenever Iris was in the mood for it.

Barry rolled the tray over her and let her dig in. "Yup and the one from Marais, too. Nothing but the best for my beautiful baby mama," he said pressing a kiss to her cheekbone.

She groaned in pleasure as the smooth, dark chocolate blended perfectly with the warm, flaky croissant in her mouth. "Holy sh-crap. If the kids weren't here, I'd pounce on you."

"Oh that can most definitely be arranged," he murmured, wrapping his arms around her. He took the piece of pastry she offered, licking the chocolate from her finger. "Tonight, after the portraits and dinner, it's just you and me. I have a whole day planned with us and the kids, it'll be enough to tucker them out for the night."

"Oh yeah?" she asked, sliding a grape in her mouth as she looked at from underneath her lashes. "And what exactly is going to happen once the twins are asleep?"

He peeked at said twins—they were happily occupied with a Flash plush toy, squealing "Dada!"—before leaning over to lick at her lips, taking any of the residual pastry with him. He kissed her, letting his tongue slide into her mouth to taste her.

"Oh I don't know, maybe we could watch Inception and light up that oyster candle thing," he said in a deep and husky voice.

She knew he was using his bedroom voice and normally it would make her body tingle enough to tackle him, but his words made her giggle against his lips. She leaned into the kiss some more, tilting her head to take in his lips because yes, despite the humor his words evoked, she would always want him.

She pulled away slowly, watching as he took his time opening his eyes, the flutter of his lashes making her heart clench.

"You still really think it was that combo that knocked me up?"

He looked at her, his cheeks flushed with desire, but he looked sheepish. "Hey, the guy said oysters were an aphrodisiac." The guy being a young waiter at the Japanese restaurant where Barry had gone to pick up their takeout.

"Please babe, as if we ever needed any aphrodisiac. Your libido is plenty." She pulled at her lower lip. "So is mine, come to think of it. Who knew nerds were my weakness. Or maybe it's just you."

"It better just be me," Barry growled, pretending to bite her. She pushed at his shoulder with a laugh.

"Besides, it's the act of      eating oyster     that's supposed to be the aphrodisiac, not sniffing an oyster-scented candle. Which I still can't believe you tracked down."

"Ok, we can skip the oyster candle," he amended.

"Please."

"And how about I give you a nice massage instead."

"Yes, please."  

 "With Inception on or off?"

Iris snorted. "Definitely off. I don't need Hans Zimmer making our lovemaking feel dramatic and scary. But we are watching it first."

"You got it." He kissed again and then grabbed a familiar looking album. It melted her heart every time she saw it and remembered the first time Barry presented it to her.

Iris has been four months pregnant with the twins and hadn't even thought of Mother's Day other than to buy flowers for Nora and Francine's graves. Despite her mother being absent in her life, she was grateful that she had at least given her Wally and been a mother to him. She had brought the flowers home only to be greeted with a huge arrangement sitting on their dinner table next to a brand new photo album.

She looked at the arrangement curiously before turning to Barry who was bringing over a matcha mille crepe cake from her favorite place in New York City. She had been craving matcha anything as of late and Barry never hesitated to speed over to Prince Tea House over in East End to get them for her.

"Hey babe, I already got the flowers," she said, gesturing at the bouquets in her arm.

He beamed at her, his eyes soft. It was that look he always gave her, that was reserved just for her: as though she was a marvel he couldn't believe existed. As though she was the impossible and not him and his speedster abilities.

"They're for you. Happy Mother's Day, Iris."

 Maybe it was her hormones—most definitely—or maybe it was that look he was giving her, but Iris could feel her eyes welling up. Barry immediately set the mille crepe down and gathered her in his arms, the flowers crushing in between them.

"You're a mom, Iris. A beautiful, wonderful one at that. You have been since the moment Nora walked into our lives that day and you deserve to be celebrated."

 She sniffled and gave him a watery smile. "And you're a dad."

Barry shook his head. "It's not the same. I…I wasn't there for Nora like I should have been, the way you were," he said with regret and residual grief. "But I'm going to do better this time around. I will be anything you and our babies need."

Iris cupped his cheek, stroking the five o'clock shadow there. "I know you will."

She knew it in her heart that he would do anything and everything for them. She kissed him softly, savoring the moment with his scent mixing with the flowers around them.

She pulled away and looked at the album. "But what's that?"

He grabbed the album and presented it to her. On the front cover, he had placed a candid picture of her, smiling brightly with a frangipani tucked behind her ear and a bundle of them in her hands. Barry had made it a habit to collect a bundle of flowers that surrounded the resort where they stayed. It was a large and private area that made it feel like they were in their own little world.

"I want to commemorate every moment of this," he said. "Just like I want to honor every single moment of our lives together. You're the most incredible woman, Iris West-Allen, and I know you're going to be the most incredible mother. I want our children to be able to see their mother every step of the way. How she carried them with love and nurtured them with the utmost care and compassion. Even while they were wreaking havoc on her hormones."

He had looked like he was going to say more, but Iris couldn't wait any longer. She took the album from him and set them on the table with the flowers and kissed him with everything in her.

When she eventually pulled away, she pressed their foreheads together, their heavy breaths mingling together.

"I love you Barry Allen."

"I love you, Iris West-Allen."

And so began tradition. Barry had taken a portrait of Iris with their camera, her wedding ring sparkling brightly as she rested her hand on her belly, curving around it as though protecting their babies. And she was protecting them, just as Barry would protect her.

This Mother's Day, they would be adding a third picture to the album, with the twins slightly bigger than the last photo.

Barry hugged her to him, the album against his chest with her image on the outside. "Ready to add to this?"

Iris glanced over at her babies fooling around on their bed and then turned to her husband, her heart full. She felt like the luckiest woman in the world.

"Always."

[dissident-vedder]

- the christmas miracle ( 𝐒.𝐆. )

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character a vows to do something nice for a stranger during christmas time. character b is that stranger.

A/N - layout by @adoresobs​!  prompt by @fanficy-prompts​

𝐌 𝐀 𝐒 𝐓 𝐄 𝐑 𝐋 𝐈 𝐒 𝐓

tears pricked at the back of your eyes. here you were, two weeks away from christmas, and still no presents, no decorations, and very little food to even last this week. nina, your six-year-old daughter, kept asking about why christmas hasn’t come yet to your house, but how were you gonna tell her that you were struggling to buy food alone? it seemed like everyone in your apartment building knew of your financial status. they eyed you sadly as you walked down the hallways, making your way to work your one of two jobs, dark undereye bags staining the once skin-toned flesh, nina constantly wondering why you were working and no longer spending time with her as much as you used to. 

“i’m here to pick up nina,” you told him. “i’m her mom, mrs. gossard takes care of her in the afternoons.” 

“oh!” he smiles at you, “you’re ms. [y/l/n], right?”

“yes, i am!” you smile back. 

“come in, she got tired and is taking a nap in the living room,” he opens the door, stepping aside to let you walk in, taking in the pastel pink walls and white wicker furniture. “i’m stone, by the way. i’m mary’s son.”

“you’re the one she always talks about!” you brightly smile at him, causing him to blush lightly, sheepishly bowing his head. “she’s really proud of you, you know.” 

“she’s always like that with her children,” stone laughs lightly, scratching the back of his neck. the pale color of his skin complimented his eyes, making them appear brighter in the white light of his mother’s living room. 

“mama?” nina’s soft voice called from the couch. her small fist rubbed roughly against her eyelids, rubbing the sleep out of them as she pushed her upper body up to a sitting position. “hi,” you replied tenderly, making your way to her, her arms stretching out to allow you to pick her up easily. she wraps her arms around your neck and her legs around your waist, burying her head into the side of your neck, sighing gingerly, taking in the scent of the perfume you always wore. you turned back to stone, “is your mom home?” you pulled a small wad of money from your pocket, wanting to pay her for taking care of nina for however long she has been taking care of her for. “i’d like to give her this.” you pushed it towards stone, who gently put his hand over yours, pushing it back towards you.

“my mom won’t take your money,” he smiled delicately. “she understands, don’t worry about it.” 

“but -”

“no buts,” he shook his head, making his way into the kitchen, picking up the platter from the counter. “she also wanted me to give you this, if you came over while she was at her doctor’s appointment.” 

“thank you,” you freed one of your hands from nina, planning to take the glassware from him. 

“no,” he puts it back down on the counter again, hands outstretched to take nina. “i’ll help you take it home.” he smiles softly again. swapping nina for the pie plate, moving towards the door, eyeing nina as she rested her head on stone’s shoulder. her faint snores restarted, causing the man’s heart to slowly turn to mush as he rested his cheek on her head. your heart swelled, opening the door to his mom’s apartment. nina’s estranged father was never in the picture, and seeing a strange man cuddle her softly to his chest as he helped you really brought both sadness and want into your heart. 

you wanted nina to experience what having a father was like, but you barely had time for her, let alone another person. you walk to your apartment in silence, fearful that nina would wake up from her nap if you were too loud for her liking; she was always a light sleeper, something she gained from her dad, who was always sleeping with one eye open. you always wondered why, seeing that the neighborhood the two of you lived in was relatively safe.

most of seattle was. 

taking your key and unlocking your door, you lead stone to nina’s room, the princess themed bedspread thrown haphazardly across her bed, a few barbies and kens laying about the floor in front of her dresser. he gingerly placed her down, unbuckling her jeans and pulling them down her legs before moving the bedspread to cover her up to her chin. you smiled at the sight before going to the kitchen, placing down the pie plate on the counter next to your stove. the sound of heavy steps alerted you of his presence, “i have to go, it’s almost the end of my mom’s appointment and i had to drive her down there.” 

“alright,” you told him. “thank you for helping me with nina, i appreciate it.” 

“no problem, it was a nice break from the music business,” he beams, chuckling a little. “well, hopefully i’ll see you later!” he waves at you before walking away, opening the door to your apartment. 

“hopefully,” you hugged your arms around yourself. 

you had noticed a piece of paper on nina’s nighttable, and upon closer inspection, you noticed that it was stone’s phone number with a messily scrawled, “call me :).” 

you did, the next day, and since then the two of you spoke and laughed at his jokes, him telling you stories of his childhood, his adventures across the world, the stress of being in a famous band. you feared telling him of your financial struggles and the struggle of trying to make enough money to get nina some presents. however, what you did not know, was that mary had told him of your problems and his plan to help you out with it. 

it was the night of christmas eve, and nina had fallen asleep after throwing a small crying fit, wondering how 1. santa was going to be able to come to your home since it was in an apartment building (this was an ongoing thing for the past three years) and 2. why the christmas tree still wasn’t up. “he’s not going to come here if he can’t see the tree!” she cried, letting you hold her close, rubbing the back of her head as you calmed her down.

sitting in your living room with a book on your lap, your heart continued to beat wildly against your chest. you bought her very few things, most of which were small and it would make her a little disappointed, and at the same time break you heart as she would go back to school and talk about how the other kids got bigger and better things. 

a small knock on your door caused you to freeze, eyes wide as you thought of what could happen. a burglar waiting for you to be dumb and open the door? mary coming over to bring some food? all bad thoughts crossed your mind until you heard, “it’s stone!” coming from the outside.

what was stone doing here at. . . you glanced at the clock in the kitchen, 4 in the morning? you put down the book, upside down as to keep your spot, and made your way to the door, still confused at why he was here. you unlocked the door and when you saw the christmas tree box - amongst other things - sitting at his feet, you gasped. “what is this, stone?” 

“it’s for you and nina,” he smiled. “now, come on, it’s cold.” the two of you laughed, taking the time to pick up the boxes and transferring them into the warmth of your apartment, and as each box came in, you noticed that a few were already wrapped and ready to be placed under the christmas tree, one of which was wrapped in a different paper than the others. stone noticed you looking at it. “it’s for you.” 

it took the two of you half an hour to put up the tree and place the presents underneath, and once it was done, you were able to fall asleep peacefully, you and stone passing out on the cushions of your sofa. “mama!” nina’s cries pierced through the thick veils of sleep and woke you and stone up. “santa came!” you peered at her through your eyelashes, seeing her angelic face brighten up as she saw the many presents placed at the bottom of the lit tree. 

“open them,” you insisted, trying to sit up with some difficulty, soon noticing stone’s head resting against your stomach, arms wrapped lazily around your middle. you haven’t seen her this happy, you noted, hand making its way into stone’s hair, gently rubbing his scalp. he hums softly, watching the girl tear through the first box, a high-pitched squeal leaving her lips as she realizes it’s the victorian purple barbie house she’s been pestering you for months and something you complained to stone about. 

“nina,” you caught her attention, “can you give me that box, please? it has my name on it.” you caught the neatly scrawled [y/n] on the top. she snatches up from the floor, running over to you, placing it in your outstretched hand before going back to her own. “what is this, stone?”

“open it,” he nods to it. 

you tear the paper, letting the pieces drop to the floor, seeing a flat velvet box come into view. written on top of it was ‘gucci’. opening it, an aged gold butterfly necklace stares back at you from the confines of the white cardboard interior, and peaking from behind it, a gold-colored debit card sat. “it currently has a few thousand dollars in it,” stone informs you. “and it’s attached to my bank acount, as well, so now you and nina are dependents.”

“stone, i can’t take this,” you begin to protest.

“why not?” he picked himself up from your stomach, glacing at you from above. “it’s my money and i get to choose what i want to do with it. and i want to help you and nina. there’s only one condition.”

“and what’s that?”

taking a short glance towards your daughter, who was too busy tearing open the last few of her presents, he lowers himself against you, face turning towards yours before he presses his lips softly on yours. “just be my girlfriend. that’s all i ask.”

you nod. “always.”

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