#gold plated stuff? nope

[selfawarescreen]

earrings are so cool and pretty but problem 1. they're sensory hell and problem 2. this body is allergic to anything and everything inserted in the earlobes except gold

[venic-bxtch]

𖤓Crossing the Divide𖤓

𖤓Part 2𖤓

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x fem!pouge!reader

Warnings: Cussing, Rafe kinda babying the reader, some trauma dumping, meanish Rafe, suggestive(I think)

The bed was King sized with a white wooden frame and pink floral designs on the bedsheets, blankets, and pillows. It also had a pink mesh mosquito net. The rest of the room had white walls and filigree designs on the borders. You had 2 dressers, a massive closet, and a vanity. You also had a desk with a laptop on it. Rafe had left a note on it saying you could start applying for colleges and scholarships, and take necessary classes and tests.

You got up, yawned and stretched. You heard a knock on the door.

“Come in.” You said in groggy voice, as you stifled a yawn.

The door opened and Rafe walked in. He was holding a few Chanel and Louis Vuitton shopping bags, and some unopened packages. He had already gotten ready. He wore a black polo shirt with khaki shorts, his prized rings, and gold watch.

“Mornin’ doll face.” He smiled and put the items on the bench in front of your bed.

You looked at him with a little smile,”Good morning Rafe.”

He sat by you on the bed,”How’d you sleep?”

You sighed dreamily, remembering the absolute paradise you felt while sleeping,”Amazing. I actually slept through the night for once.”

He stroked your cheek,”You’ve never slept through the night, doll face?”

You shook your head,”Nope. Back at my house, I’m using a 10 year old mattress. It’s stuffed with a bunch of random stuff, I never cared to check.”

He pursed his lips and spoke in your ear in a low tone,”I’ll make sure to take good care of you. You won’t regret this.”

You were sure your face was on fire. You were falling for his tricks.

You looked at him, smiling,”Thank you.”

“Of course, doll face. How bout you get ready, and I’ll take you for a lil’ drive. We should get ice cream.”

You nodded,”That sounds good. I’ll be down in like 10 minutes.”

He scoffed,”Oh sweet thing. You’re gonna be exfoliating that skin, moisturizing it, and putting on makeup and perfume. That’s gonna take a while. How bout you brush your teeth then eat breakfast?” You nodded rapidly, you haven’t eaten a good meal for days. He patted your thigh once,”Alright I’ll be downstairs.” He smiled and walked off.

You got off the bed and walked to the en-suite bathroom. He had put out an Oral-B toothbrush and toothpaste for you. You rinsed your mouth out. You shuffled back into the bedroom in the cold hardwood to get your bunny slippers. You gently padded down the stairs to the dining room. There were 2 plates with pancakes and bacon with iced tea for you and coffee for Rafe.

Rafe was fidgeting with his ring while taking slow sips of his black coffee. He looked up with a massive grin on his face,”Doll face.” He got up to pull out a chair for you. He put it right next to his in a vertical position. He patted the cushion of the seat,”Come on, sit.”

You nodded and spoke quietly,”Ok.” You slowly sat down. You observed the food.

He chuckled,”Don’t worry dollie. I ain’t gonna kill ya’.”

You sighed, knowing that you’d regret your words,”You murdered Perterkin. That’s why I’m a little afraid of you…” you trailed off.

He grabbed your face forcefully, his tone more aggressive,”Hey, watch your fuckin’ mouth! You’re gonna listen. You’re gonna listen good doll face. I didn’t fuckin’ kill Peterkin. It was that John B.” He let your face go roughly,”You got that?”

You looked down,”Yes..”

“Good. Now eat up. We have places to be.”

A few tears rolled down your cheek and fell in your lap. Quiet sobs exited your mouth. You always hated when people yelled at you.

He sighed,”Hey dollie, I didn’t mean to be so aggressive……” he rubbed your back, shushing you,”I’ll be better. I promise.” He kissed the top of your head, “you still hungry?” You shook your head,”You still wanna go out?” You shook your head. He picked you up out of the chair bridal style,”I’ll but you back to bed. I’ll be right by you,Ok?”

You calmed your crying down,”Ok.” This man was sick. He was manipulating you and you still fell for it. You haven’t had anyone but your friends care for you. But this felt different.

He gently placed you down on the bed, helping you take your slippers off. He laid down right next to you, his hand loosely on your waist.

He whispered,”I just want someone to care about me, and be with me, and help me…all my family’s gone. They don’t care. Most people don’t like me. Fuck, Topper and Kelc don’t really like me anyway. You actually give a shit. I can tell.”

You whispered back,”Oh…my family is gone too. My parents died in a shipwreck. I’ve been scared of the sea since forever. I just don’t have anywhere to go. My other family members don’t know I exist.” You put your hand on his, tracing his insignia ring.

“You’re better than me. You didn’t start doin’ drugs and selling em’”

“I started smoking.”

He let out a quiet laugh,”I’ve done it all, dollie.”

END OF PART 2

[lizard-shifter-noms]

Wayward Waters Chapter 12

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Hello everyone! Chapter 12!

time to explore more of the world!

this Story contains Vore, Dont like dont read.

have fun reading!

and as always Reblogs are appreciated! (Also ASK’s are open so feel free to bother me!)

AO3 Link for those that prefer the layout there;

AO3 Wayward waters

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As expected I did wake up with the word Idiot on my forehead and a mustache drawn on me.

Though it was easily washed off before Yamet yelled that breakfast was done.

It consisted of eggs and thick slabs of bacon with some spices once again.

He really loved to use spices huh? But it was good.

Ronan stumbled in late, some rolled up papers in his arms,  probably maps from all over.

Did he find the one with Kamerasca?

“Sorry I'm late! I completely forgot that I did not sort my maps whatsoever!

…i may need help looking”

Of course, with how scatterbrained he was that was no surprise.

I'd help after I was done with breakfast.

Shoveling the rest of said breakfast into my mouth I followed Ronan, who simply grabbed his plate and took it with him, 

to a side room stuffed full of paper.

Not all of them were maps, a lot were his own observations on animals and plants and whatever else he found, including Imugi.

Worst of all was they were on the floor too and literally pouring out from shelves.

How in the fuck did he find ANYTHING in here?

Well considering the map was missing he didn't.

Yeah it would probably take hours, or even a day to find anything in here.

Suddenly Imik’s head popped in.

“You know, we should just ask to borrow one from someone else, besides are you SURE we even have one?”

Ronan stopped in the middle of shoving more of the paper into the shelves.

“Nope, no idea if we have it! 

Let's go to town and see if someone else has one!”

Better than sorting paper at least.

Ronan ran out the room past me and Imik and I slowly followed while they got their stuff.

Suddenly a little bag the size of my fist full of something heavy and clinking was tossed at me and I fumbled to catch it.

Opening it up I saw it was full of gold coins.

This was more than I ever had in my entire life, in one little bag!

Confused, I looked to Imik who had thrown it at me.

“You helped dive and get this on the ship, so that's yours! 

Besides, we're going to town! A little spending money will be fun!”

Oh so this was basically my cut from treasure diving! Nice!

Well if i was already here might as well get some souvenirs right?

Not like I could ever manage to rush these guys.

The front door slammed open and Jamie strutted in like an excited pigeon.

“GUYS! There's a ton of ships in Harbor right now! Let's go trade stuff!”

Huh, lots of ships meant lots of things from different places,  Now that was something to see!

I got dragged outside by Jamie who let go once we were out the door and jumped up to use Akeem’s arm as a sideways perch.

People with bird legs did not give a fuck about gravity huh?

Suddenly Akeem moved his arm,  tossing Jamie a good six feet up in the air and forward.

They laughed and landed perfectly, running ahead with the rapid, taptaptap of their legs against the ground.

Yamet yelled after them.

“JAMIE! Wait! Ah dammit they are gone”

Well, not like they'd get lost on the island right?

Besides, the rocky path to their abode was strewn with funnily shaped rocks, so finding it would be easy.

While walking to where more houses stood I took in the scenery as Yamet discussed what food to buy with Imik and Ronan, Akeem was picking up random rocks and tossing some away while keeping a few.

After a bend in the path around a rock we reached the first houses of the harbor area, where lots of ships were anchored.

Including the absolut big one whose silhouette I had seen yesterday evening.

In daylight the thing was even more intimidating.

The wood was painted black, save for what looked like to be some sort of metal ribcage that went over the outside of it,  making it look like a skeleton.

It didn't help that the rest of it was kept in similar color and style with dark gray sails.

Yep, no wonder ghostship stories existed.

The name on it read in a fancy red cursive.

Call Of The Damned

Well that was ominous, and they went full out on that aesthetic too.

Suddenly Ronan pointed at it.

“Hey! It's the Call Of The Damned! 

That means Cassidy is back! Let's ask him for a map!”

What.

THAT was this Cassidy guys ship? No wonder he was respected.

Being so distracted I ran face first into a door that was built into one of the large boulders, featuring a carved tree with Long roots.

“Watch where you're going! Also don't bother trying to open that,  it won't budge, believe me i've tried, maybe it's cursed or something”

I confusedly looked at the weird door again that Ronan had just called cursed, but before I could fully process this I was dragged along towards the ship that was way bigger than the Victory Rose and could hold my Ardua form like ten times over.

Though despite getting dragged a good ways the ship was all the way down at the harbor, and not just at one of the smaller docks either.

It was smackdab in the middle and tied to the biggest pier,  which wasn't even wood but stone.

Ronan ran ahead, leaving me and Akeem to follow as Yamet was off somewhere getting actual food for the ship and Jamie was who knew where anyway.

While walking after them at a fast pace I looked around as much as i could, finding that there were more than double the non humans than humans.

The only humans I really saw were doing some menial but fun things.

One with a brown short cloak and dark shaggy hair that went over his eyes was drawing a cat on the floor with chalk,  leaving spaces free for the surrounding children to color in.

The other human I saw had black curly hair with eye pattern hair pins and dark eyes framed by round glasses.

They were sitting on a swing and eating a fruit i had never seen before, the juice dripping on their mostly purple striped clothing aside from the black overall that seemed to have one strap broken and mismatched shoes, one being yellow and the other some soft pink

There was plenty of other things to see though!  

Like a tavern where a tall and horned being with curly brown hair was serving some tables, with the most unusual thing about them being that they had four arms total and as they turned around i could see they had four eyes as well with vertical pupils and ears that were as pointed as mine, though a good bit longer

Well made sense, like that one could hold more plates and the like with that many limbs.

Suddenly Imik grabbed me and yanked me down a narrower path I had almost run past, telling me to not get lost and look where I was going.

I just numbly nodded, oh I was looking,  just maybe not at the road and instead at everything else.

Hearing a clunk I looked up at one of the overhanging roofs,  seeing another person with four arms and a coat write something in a notebook before slinking off out of sight.

I got yanked by Imik slightly to the left and down another narrow road, nearly running into a tall woman with weird lavender colored skin and Blue hair with black scleras and pink irises whose fangs slightly poked out of her mouth.

She also had four arms, this was the third person i saw that had those, apparently they weren't as uncommon as i had originally thought.

Her pointy ears flicked in annoyance as i was dragged past her where i had to jump over the tail of a weird Birdlike person that was covered in purplish blue iridescent and black feathers who confusedly turned around, showing that their face had a blue and black pattern as well in the upper half and feathers instead of ears between darkish magenta hair.

Suddenly the houses gave way to a bigger space, which apparently was some sort of garden as there were Flowers and even two trees.

Something pink with dragonfly wings and humanoid shape flitted past, barely the size of my fist with some sort of flower as a dress?

Wait, was that a FAIRY?

Before I could get a better look though Ronan had grabbed me and was dragging me away, the fairy was nowhere to be seen.

“C’mon, don't dawdle, we got a map to get!”

Yeah, that's true, I wanted to get home as soon as possible even though this place was very interesting.

Slinking along behind some taverns and restaurants and whatever we had to walk around something that had a humanlike torso with reddish brown hair but the body of a green snake instead of legs which was rummaging through the trash.

That was a being I had actually heard about! 

A naga if memory served right.

Then finally we reached the more open beachside, with a little sandy area that contained some boulders that looked perfect to climb around.

Apparently the water was safe here as a good few people were swimming, including someone that looked to be half Orca with lots of scars scattered on their body and short dark hair that had a white streak.

Well of course a marine mammal would go swimming,  if this craziness was over i'd maybe go swimming too.

Though doing that in Kamerasca wasn't advised due to the large amount of crabs that would pinch any swimmers.

Along the beachside were a few stands and shops that sold who knew what.

On one of the awnings,  and denting it horribly, slept a curled up and pale, mammalian being with long ears and a catlike nose and short bluish tinted hair.

How the construct did not break was beyond me though,  but the people there didn't seem to be bothered by it.

Suddenly Ronan let go of me and ran yelling and waving both of his arms up the stone pier which up close looked more like an unfinished bridge to nowhere.

“CASSIDY! CASSIDY! HEY! WELCOME BACK!”

He ran past some people unloading boxes and crates and the like from the giant boat towards a dark skinned man that was wearing a coat not unlike the one Nemas had, though more a dark red than navy blue.

So that guy was Cassidy?  

“Come on, lets go and ask if he had a map, before Ronan talks his ear off about whatever”

I nodded at Imik and we walked past the people carrying stuff from the ship towards where Ronan was talking to Cassidy.

Getting closer I noticed that Cassidy was apparently human, and as he turned around his eyes showed an unnerving pale turquoise hue.

Which really was the only unusual part about him.

Ronan seemed to have informed him already as Cassidy waved politely at us.

And then ducked down as someone swung over him hanging from a rope and slammed straight into Ronan.

“WOOHOO! HEY RONAN!”

The rope snapped and the person ended up crash landing on top of the poor Ronan.

Man he just got healed yesterday! And that looked painful.

“Shalimar! How many times do I have to tell you not to do that?!”

“Sorry dad!”

The young woman, Shalimar apparently, and Cassidy's daughter? 

Got up and then yanked Ronan into a standing position as well.

She was a good bit paler than her father with blonde hair and dark blue eyes, wearing a sleeveless leather vest that was tied together in the front haphazardly with a lighter blue undershirt and a blue sash, 

over which a belt was placed that was tied into a knot instead of having used the belt buckle.

She also had a sword that was attached to her greenish gray pants instead of the weirdly applied belt and the handle was partially under some pale fur pieces that seemed to just have been stuffed into the dark blue sash.

Around her lower arms was some sort of cloth covered arm guard,  like I had seen some archers have, just without the gloves.

At least Ronan didn't seem bothered by this chaotic happenstance and just let himself be hugged by the rather unhinged young woman.

Cassidy just looked displeased at her, which made me assume that this was not the first time that happened.

“Whatever, just don't kill anyone like that, because if you do it's your responsibility and im not going to help”

Shalimar just nodded and lifted Ronan up like he was a bag of flour and put him on one of the protruding rocks of the stone pier.

“Sure thing dad! I'll be careful!”

“Careful? You can't even tie your vest correctly! No wonder you never wear boots with shoelaces- gah!”

For that Comment Ronan got a punch in the gut, which made him fall over backwards into the water with a splash.

“Shalimar! Go get him out of there! and stop punching people you disagree with!”

She rolled her eyes but did as told, dragging Imik with her to help,  and leaving me alone with Cassidy.

Well, that was awkward.

Before I could say anything there was a familiar whistle click and suddenly Imugi jumped out of the water and up the side of the pier, spitting water at Cassidy and missing horribly.

He turned to me.

“I say we move from this spot a bit to talk,  who knows what happens next”

I did have to agree with that,  though I'd rather someone I know be with me right now.

He led me to the other side of the pier, to the end of it where a bench was placed in front of the drop to the ocean.

“So, Ronan said something about you being lost and needing a map?

At least from what i understood before my daughter drop kicked him”

“Uh, yeah, i was washed overboard during a storm and need to get back to Kamerasca seeing as i don't know where my friends are now”

He hummed and fiddled with the weird necklace he wore, which looked like a smaller version of those drinking vessels but the pointy end had a metal cap with a hole.

A horn if memory served correctly.

“Say what Ship were you on? 

If i see it when i go out again i can tell them you're okay”

That, well that was actually very nice of him.

“Oh, uh, the Ship was called Victory Rose, so if you-” “Victory Rose?! The one with captain Nemas?”

I blinked confusedly at him, he KNEW that ship and its captain?

“Ah, yes? He's got a tattoo on his face and told me to ignore the hardtack with the maggots”

Not exactly a fond memory.

Cassidy grabbed me and gently shook me much to my confusion.

“Say! How's that talkative son of a bitch doing? 

Does he still not have taste buds?”

Well now I was thoroughly confused, were they friends or something?

“Uhhh, well he seemed healthy, and put way too much fish in everything he eats, how do you know him anyway?”

He thankfully let go of me.

“Oh yeah, before he inherited the ship his gramps told him to work on someone else's ship, i guess the old man feared he'd be too soft or something, and we ended up on the same vessel and became friends”

Oh, that made sense, but before I could retort anything I heard a shrieky voice call down from above, reminding me somehow of a seagull.

Looking up it was a seagull, sort of.

If the Human features were anything to go by it was a Harpy.

“YO BOSS! BAD NEWS!”

The Harpy dived down headfirst and landed on the back part of the bench.

“Nymra! There you are! And what do you mean by bad news? 

I'm in the middle of something!”

The partially feathered face turned to me for a second before going back to ignoring me.

“That can wait! Because we got big problems!”

“Well then spit it out!”

“The pirates are banding together!”

Cassidy didn't seem to worried about that,  and i was pretty sure Rikaad said something about the maringand ships allying with pirates, so no surprise.

“Well that's nothing new, there's always some that bond together for more success, but that will fall apart soon like every time they realize they have to share with more people”

The Harpy, Nymra? Shook her head.

“Not this time, I counted at least a hundred ships! And i couldn't get close enough for long so the only thing i managed to hear was something about taking over, but no idea what they want to take over”

My blood froze, and Cassidy did too, TWO HUNDRED? 

Two hundred ships filled with pirates? 

And possibly the deserters of the Maringand army, 

if they were there they probably instigated it.

And they wanted to take something over…

OH FUCK!

“Cassidy! I think they are going to attack Kamerasca!”

He turned confusedly to me.

“Why do you think that boy?”

“A few weeks ago deserters of the maringand army went here because they didn't want to serve under the new queen,  after they lost a war to Kamerasca, I think they might want revenge.

And it wouldn't be beneath them to promise chunks of land to the pirates if they helped.

I think they are still pissed that we arrested their previous King and put his niece in charge while hes in jail for war crimes of basically every sort”

Cassidy's eyes went wide with Alarm.

“Well fuck, Nymra do you think there is time to send a messenger?”

Nmyra shook her head.

“Not really there aren't any islands between to rest so you'd have to take a ship, and that takes time, the weather in that area is going to go bad soon as well, so not till a few days from now.

Which would mean we'd be head to head with them”

Cassidy cursed loudly and waltzed back down the pier, barking orders to everyone in range.

Nymra herself gave me an apologetic look.

“Yeah, sorry about all of this, I'm sure Cassidy will find time for you later though, he always does! What did you even want from him? 

Well if the question isn't to invasive of course”

For a seagull adjacent being very polite.

“I got washed overboard and wanted to go back home, or back to the ship whatever turns out to be closer”

“What ship? I can fly, maybe I'll see it!”

Oh right, as a Harpy she was faster than a boat and could see further!

“The Victory Rose! Cassidy said he knows it” “Eyy! I know that one too! They sometimes meet up and get drinks!

One time I woke up on the wrong damn boat and had to fly for an hour to find the Call Of The Damned!”

Another reason to not try alcohol then.

“That must have been confusing”

“Oh it was! And I landed on the other two ships first to rest a little!”

Other two ships?

“Other ships? Does he have more than one?”

Nymra Nodded, 

swooshing open her wing towards the Call Of The Damned.

“Yeah! This one obviously! And two others! 

They are called Revenants Vestige and Bleeding Moon! My main job is scouting but I also just bring notes from one ship to the other!”

Well that would make giving orders to all of the ships easier.

“You must have seen a lot of the open sea then”

“Eh, its wavy water, and some islands,  it does get boring after four years or so, tell ya what! 

Since I'm gonna be heading out again soon anyway I'll keep an eye open for the Victory Rose and if I do see them I'll tell them you're alright!”

My eyes went wide, why were the strangers in this place all so nice?

“You'd do that? Really?! Thank you!”

She saluted, which looked pretty weird due to her feather covered arm, and flapped back up into the sky.

“Of course! Ain't gonna take much of my time anyway! 

Might as well do something good!”

With that she flew away over the water and around the cliffside out of sight.

I really hoped she would run, err fly? Into the Victory Rose,  If just so I can be Sure Robin and Rikaad know I'm alive and fine.

Soo, now what? Everyone I knew the name of was nowhere near me.

And I did not want to interrupt any of the beings currently at work.

Should I just wait here?

“Oi! Dee! The fuck you standing there for?”

Jamie! Thank fuck i didn’t have to stay around awkwardly for long.

“Jamie! I was talking to Cassidy earlier but he got the information that the pirates were banding together and ran off”

They skidded to a halt in front of me, distantly reminding me of a poofed up chicken.

“Yeah I know! Fucking bitch ass pirates! Cassidy gave the order that anyone that can fight should get ready! I'm here to get your sorry ass!”

Wow Cassidy was fast! 

“Get me? For what? Do I have to hide in your house till this is over?”

They grabbed my wrist with their sleeve covered hand and dragged me back down the pier.

“Nah dude, a shapeshifter like you is invited to come along and fuck shit up! Only if you wanna though”

While running, well more like being dragged by someone about half my size, i thought about it.

On one hand; it was dangerous,  very much so even and I already went overboard once.

On the other hand; that was kind of exactly the reason I tagged along with Rikaad, and Jamie did have a point with the shapeshifting.

Rikaad had called it the Intimidation factor,  and basically I came here for exactly this.

“Jamie!”

I called out to them to get their attention as they were focusing on not running into people while dragging me along.

“Yeah? What is it?”

They stopped for a moment, allowing both of us to catch a breath.

I grinned at them.

“Lets fuck shit up!”

They smiled widely, showing off sharp teeth.

“Oh HELL yeah! Let's get back to the Halcyon! 

Pretty sure Imugi brought Ronan there already and Imik can swim fast!”

I nodded and ran alongside the nimble Jamie towards the ship, which Imugi had actually towed to be closer to the main part.

Well that saved a good bit of time!

Whoever was at the steering wheel managed to halt it pretty fast and perfectly parallel to the beach.

So either Akeem or Imik were at the steering wheel.

Imugis head popped up out of the water and bend down in front of us.

Before I could guess what to do Jamie had dragged me to cling on for dear life to the uppermost spike on Imugi’s Long neck while they sat atop the Bony skull.

Well that did forego the need to get to a dock and set a plank out,  thus allowing someone else to put their ship there and let their crew go onboard.

Hopping on after Jamie I saw that the one at the steering wheel was Yamet this time, so he was coming with this time huh?

Imugi dived under and after a moment a tug went through the boat,  The Sea Serpent was towing it again.

We were off to fight Pirates, lots of them.

Hopefully the kind Serpent wouldn't be hurt.

Imik started ordering the rest of the people on board to do tasks.

Since i had no idea what half the words even meant i was of no help and kept out of the way as much as i could, 

Opting to just keep an eye on the rope that Imugi was towing us with.

Also for some Reason Shalimar was with us on deck, apparently she decided her Dad didn't need help.

That or he would have ordered her to stay in harbor,  Maybe both even I didn't know them that well.

It wasn't even an hour but at least fifty ships were now following the Call Of The Damned out of the narrow part of the island to wherever Nymra had pointed cassidy.

As soon as we passed the two long strips of land two more ships joined, One with a white sail that depicted a sickle shaped moon that had drops of blood falling from it and one that was entirely painted a foggy gray.

Cassidy’s other two ships no doubt, 

The ‘Bleeding Moon’ and ‘Reventants Vestige’ were now flanking the entire fleet of extremely mismatched ships.

Both of them were, while still extremely big, nowhere near as Giant as the harrowingly designed Call Of The Damned.

That really must be the biggest ship in existence.

Shalimar appeared next to me and put a foldable telescope into my hands, pointing at the ‘Revenants Vestige’ with a grin.

“The captain there keeps a rooster instead of a parrot, and the thing sure knows how to fight”

A chicken? Really? Well that i had to see!

Hoisting the telescope up I looked through it at the gray painted boat, and as Shalimar had said the captain, who wore so much layered clothing it was impossible to tell what was under it,  had indeed an entire Rooster on their shoulder.

The thing was pretty big too and seemed slightly off.

Maybe not entirely chicken then, but close enough.

Huh, what else was there? I probably should take a good look at which boats were with us to not get confused later.

Swinging the telescope around i saw that all of the fifty boats were following the Call Of The Damned,  and most of them had nonhuman sailors,  There were even a few merfolk in the water, well at least those that could keep up as the wind was currently in our favor.

I handed the telescope back to Shalimar.

“Thanks! Anything I can help with? Im afraid im not a good sailor though”

She had a huge grin on and seemed to hold back laughter,  but still answered coherently.

“Eh, don't ask me, Imik or Ronan will know better where you can help”

She stuffed the telescope in her belt, which really didn't look like it should hold anything, and hopped back down to help with the sail.

“AY! DEE! She put paint on the telescope!”

Looking up I saw Jamie, who was back in the crows nest,  well Jamie's nest really.

Paint? Running my thumb around my eye there was indeed something like coal powder or something smudged around my eye.

Ah, no wonder Shalimar was trying not to laugh.

Though now she did, loudly and honestly? It was a little funny,  and a surprise that nobody else had done this till now.

Using the corner of my shirt I removed the smudge as well as I could before looking ahead and around again.

I doubted we'd run, sail?, into the pirates so soon and there were all the other ships looking out too but a little attentiveness had never hurt.

I stared out at the sea all day and a good bit into Dusk till I got something thrown at me.

Turning around I saw it was Jamie,  who had thrown a little bag full of sand.

Why the fuck they had that was beyond me though.

“Yo, dumbass come eat,  Yamet cooked so no soggy sandwiches anymore!”

At least some good news, I for sure would not have touched another one of those soggy things that barely qualified as bread.

“Coming, one second!”

Standing up, and noticing my foot fell asleep, I hopped down the stairs and followed Jamie inside the kitchen, which smelled pretty good.

Jamie jumped over a chair and used Akeem as a stair before settling in the rounded window like a content bird.

Once again nobody seemed bothered by that, not even Shalimar.

Sitting on the last empty chair, which was probably why Jamie chose the window, I was handed a plate with a simple mashed potato and some fish with a savory sauce.

Yep, way better than wet bread.

“You still have paint on your face, here”

Akeem handed me a clean rag and I nodded thankfully at him before removing the rest of the dark smudge.

“Thanks!”

I ate in silence, the other ones having enough to talk about without me anyway.

It was just pretty nerve wracking that right now, like RIGHT NOW right now we were off to go look for Pirates and fight them.

The very thing I originally came here for with Rikaad and Robin.

I wondered how the two were doing right now?

Rikaad for sure would do his best to prioritize the mission despite me missing, and still somehow find a way to try and look for me.

As for Robin, well the little ginger was probably worried like no tomorrow.

No doubt he'd cried after he'd seen me fall off the deck.

The deck itself probably had some ugly scratch marks now,  I'd have to apologize to Nemas for that.

“nervous?”

I looked up from where I had just been staring at an now empty plate.

The one that had addressed me was Ronan,  half of the others have already left.

“Kinda, i mean, i originally came here to help with exactly that, but now its just- i dunno”

I sighed and let myself sink head first onto the table, 

avoiding the cutlery and plates.

“Well, it IS pretty nerve wracking, I admit that, but it's just pirates! 

There is no way they can get organized enough to make that dumb alliance actually useful! They are too greedy for that!

I'll tell you! A few days more and they'll start going at each other's throats and I doubt we'll have much to do!

After they are done with the infighting we can just aim some cannons at the rest and be done with it!”

Ronan’s words were actually helping,  but I couldn't help it and was still a little nervous.

“If you're sure, you're the sailor here,  i don't know shit about being on the open sea”

He tilted his head, and I was once again reminded that he was also a half elf Bastard and not actually so unlike me.

“Eh, for being a landrat you're doing a pretty good job! 

Maybe some sleep would do you good,  you said you weren't sleeping well so im sure at least half of that nervousness is actually sleep deprivation!”

That was a very good point, maybe i should ask Akeem where the chamomile tea was as that had worked a little last time-

A Cup with said Tea was set down in front of me, still steaming hot.

“Here, Akeem told me to make you one”

I looked first confused and then thankful at Yamet, 

who grabbed Ronan’s upper arm and dragged him outside.

Yamet was a pretty alright guy, even making sure I wouldn't have anyone trying to talk my ear off while I drank the tea.

A tea that was pretty good, Yamet had added Honey or something similar to it which made it even better.

Though, as soon as those Pirates and the Maringand deserters were dealt with I could go back home to my friends.

Who knew maybe I'd even run into them while fighting the pirates.

Ha, unlikely, but still a nice thought.

As soon as I was finished with the Tea and put the cup back down I got lifted up from my seat like a wet cat.

Akeem, he really was the only one on this ship that could feasibly lift me up.

“I can walk myself”

“And i am just making sure you actually go to sleep,  i live with Ronan and Jamie so you never know”

Well… yeah, fair.

But he didn't have to carry me under one arm like a fucking duffel bag.

“Well yeah but i can still use my legs”

Akeem just hummed an acknowledgement and opened a door to a familiar room.

Well Akeem didn't need sleep and With Shalimar here they probably had no Guestbed, especially as Yamet was now here too.

Still, I felt a bit bad about taking someone else's room, or would if Akeem didn't just drop me on the mattress and then left quietly.

“Goodnight”

I mumbled something in return but he had already closed the door.

Eh, might as well sleep then.

NEXT / PREVIOUS / OVERSIGHT

[haystarlight]

Thanks for the tag @fairytales-and-folklore

20 questions for writers

1.How many works do you have on AO3?

I have 21 fics on AO3 right now

2.What's your total AO3 word count?

68,266 words in toto

3.What fandoms do you write for?

So far I have written for:

The Owl House (Cartoon) (16)

She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018) (1)

One Last Stop - Casey McQuiston (1)

Adventure Time (Cartoon 2010) (1)

Amphibia (Cartoon) (1)

4.What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

The Backfiring Prank

The Gold String of Fate

I'm working on a song, It isn't finished yet

Disabilities & Disclosure

Something warm on your plate, clothes on your back

5.Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Only sometimes, not always. I really appreciate comments but I sometimes forget to reply to them or I don't reply because I can't come up with something more interesting to say other than "thank you". I still appreciate getting comments even if I don't answer tho.

6.What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Probably "No Future,Not For You". Most of my others have happy endings or at least bittersweet but this one is the only one that is 100% all angst no comfort. It's short but it's brutal.

7.What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Probably "I'm working on a song, it isn't finished yet". It has a very happy and satisfying ending. Tho, most of the others have happy endings too. I think this one feels more satisfying because it's a longer fic.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Nah, I don't think I'm popular enough to get hate yet. I might get hate when I'm more known but not right now.

9.Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I only tried writing smut once because an ex friend dared me to. It's not on AO3 tho. Idk if I'll ever write more smut in the future, but I think I want to. It might be fun to experiment with it.

I think my type of smut would be more sentimental and soft and emotional. You know, self indulgence stuff. And I would probably write some of the stuff I'm into into the fic.

10.Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

No I don't like crossover fics.

11.Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Nah, like I said, I'm not that popular yet.

12.Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope.

13.Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nah, I've had people beta reading my fics but no.

14.What's your all-time favourite ship?

Probably Huntlow, but I also really like Bubbline and Lumity and Sundry. Tbh I have a lot of ships I love.

15.What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

I don't publish WIPs before they're done because I don't wanna leave people unsatisfied. However, I do have a lot of half written fics on my computer that I completely gave up on.

16.What are your writing strengths?

I think I'm good at capturing the characters's escence and doing their dialogue in character and accurate to their canon personalities. It's very important to me that the characters feel like themselves.

17.What are your writing weaknesses?

Probably that I get stuck too much. Like unless I'm on a writing roll, I will sometimes just get stuck and not know how to continue a fic for days.

18.Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I've only done it a little bit, on some Owl House fics when Luz or other characters are speaking Spanish. It's easy because Spanish is my first language. Idk how I would go about it if it was another language tbh.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

On AO3? The Owl House. In general? My Little Pony probably.

20.Favourite fic you've ever written?

Definitely "I'm working on a song, it isn't finished yet." "Terrified Grom Hags" might be a close second tho.

[broughttoyouby]

Some fun stuff about Wes: He is a workaholic. He went from being a salesman to doing television AND radio. He has a radio show in the evening (used to be morning), and then about 11pm they tape for Live in Empire City. So I guess it's not REALLY live but yknow.

The ONLY day he's got off is Sunday, usually, except he doesn't like staying home. He has to keep going. he does NOT like to stop and think, it invites all the ... experiences he's ever had to come back. NOPE NOPE gotta keep busy.

So all this work, on top of getting drunk very often and his dabbling in recreational substances, sometimes Wes does just pass the fuck out, unconscious in places. To stop this, he's always got something to keep him up, like coffee.

And when THAT fails, well. He hopes he's at least somewhere comfy. Passing out in the street is not a good idea, especially when you're Wes, and ESPECIALLY when you've got custom wingtip dress shoes with gold-plated soles. Yikes!

[cressida-jayoungr]

Why the "Rings of Power" Costumes Fail to Reflect Their Source Material

Tolkien-geek nerdrant incoming.

I'm not currently watching The Rings of Power, but I have been seeing images of the costumes, and I just have to rant a little about them. Apart from their general attractiveness or lack thereof--mostly the latter, in my opinion--they are making me wonder whether Kate Hawley, the costume designer, has even read the source material. Or understood it, if she did read it.

I hear that she has done much better work on other projects. But I'm sorry, she really dropped the ball here, and it can't be chalked up just to not having enough money or time. There are fundamental problems at the concept level.

It's easy to guess the general thinking: "Since the LOTR movies were designed around a medieval look, the look of this series should be based on Greek and Roman styles, with simpler construction, in order to convey that it's an earlier time." This would make perfect sense for most fantasy series, but it's dead wrong for Tolkien.

In Middle-Earth, "progress" isn't really a thing that happens, unless you're talking about the Years of the Trees or maybe the First Age. After that, it's all downhill with a few small backtracks along the way. Each civilization is less grand than the one that came before it. Knowledge and techniques are lost. The costumes should reflect this. The clothing of the Second Age should be more intricate and decorative than that of the Third Age. They could go full Bollywood with the jewelry, for both Elves and Númenoreans: ropes of pearls, gem-studded belts, etc. (But also take a lesson from Bollywood on how to make lots of jewelry look tasteful and not over the top.)

Speaking of jewelry, there is far too much use of gold. In the source material, Dwarves like gold, but Elves are all about silver, or better yet, mithril. And pearls and white or clear gems such as diamonds. Stuff that makes them think of starlight. You're telling me Gil-Galad, whose name literally means "bright star," would dress entirely in gold from head to toe? I don't think so. Gold also has a slightly negative connotation in Tolkien's writing as being a little bit base and corrupting. That's why Ar-Pharazôn's title of "the Golden" isn't entirely a compliment; it's a hint at how he embodies the perverting of Númenor's society. Lana Marie put it well in her video on this show's costumes when she said, "It's almost poetic how Amazon seems to think that plastering gold on everything makes a garment look regal and expensive and classy."

This brings me to the show's idea that the symbol of Númenor should be a sun. It shouldn't; it should be a star. The island is shaped like a star. Its alternate name, Elenna, means "starward" because of the star that led the first people to it. (And before anyone wants to be cute and say the sun is also a star--no, in Tolkien's world, it's not. It's a fruit of the golden tree, Laurelin, carried through the sky by a maia on a flying ship.) I could buy the idea of Ar-Pharazôn introducing the sun as a new symbol or making it his personal royal banner, but the show starts before he becomes king and they're already using suns, so nope.

And finally, nobody should be wearing full plate armor. Nobody in Tolkien wears plate armor. It's always mail of one sort or another. Yes, I know Ngila Dickson had the Gondorian army wear plate armor in the ROTK movie, but she was also wrong. (Besides, she said it was supposed to make them look outdated and irrelevant.) Frankly, as wonderful as the design of the LOTR movie trilogy was, I feel that most of the stuff in Gondor wasn't up to their usual standard; maybe they were running short on time and/or energy by then. But that's a whole different rant.

I'll close out by recommending Lana Marie's redesign of Miriel's costume.

[bohemian-rhapsody-in-blue]

Beboptober Day 15: The Last Dance

Thanks to @thestarlightsymphony for the prompt list! This is a day late because I couldn’t finish it yesterday (10/15), since I was busy with family stuff. At some point later on—hopefully tomorrow?—I’ll post two stories and be all caught up. This also bears some similarities to @eclaire-and-pocky’s take on this prompt, which I promise was not intentional!

Crystal chandeliers twinkled above the vast room; the walls and floor fairly glittered in pristine white marble and ornate gold. People in fancy dresses and dapper tuxedos, which were probably worth more than the Bebop’s crew members made in a year, filled the room to the brim. One of them, somewhere, hiding among the mass of people, was the bounty head the crew was after.

If only they could find her among the room of the elite.

They’d been staked out undercover at this dance for hours, looking for their target, whom they had good reason to believe would be here thanks to Ed’s hacking and tracking her. The target was a serial murderer, specifically attacking high-profile members of society, picking them off one by one—Spike was sure she had some sort of manifesto explaining her actions but didn’t care in the least what it was. He just wanted to find her, apprehend her, and be done with it. And they could do that at this ball, where they’d predicted the killer’s next victim—based on her patterns in the past—would be. Or at least they thought they could do that. So far, they were coming up maddeningly empty.

Faye approached Spike’s table, an annoyed look on her face. Her makeup was beginning to smudge after all the hours they’d spent at the ball, and the fancy rosette with which she’d pinned back her hair was falling out, taking a few strands of hair with it. “Any luck?” she asked him under her breath.

“Nope.” Spike shook his head, then glanced back down to the plate in front of him at his table in the corner, piled high with tiny, fancy shrimp thingies on sticks. He’d taken them every time they were offered and was now steadily working his way through them. No way would he resist free food.

The fact that he was so voraciously devouring the shrimp thingies, because he had no idea when he’d get any decent protein again—plus the fact that he wasn’t sure of their name (something hard to pronounce in French)—probably should have outed him as someone who was very much not from these upper echelons of society. But honestly, it was exhausting maintaining their façades as upper-crust high-society members for all that time. At this point, he practically didn’t care if he blew his cover.

The whole charade had been fun at first—Faye got to put on her fanciest outfits and flirt with practically everyone at the dance, slipping from seduction to interrogation about the target before they even knew what was happening. In her long, emerald-green slit dress, dangling earrings, and veil covering her face, she walked a fine line between “ravishing” and “ravenous.” After all the boring failed hunts they’d been on recently, she relished tonight’s opportunity. Sensuality was her weapon, and she hadn’t gotten to wield it in a while.

Spike, meanwhile, was stationed at a table in the corner, looking for the target the old-fashioned way—brute force. With the identification goggles he’d borrowed from Jet, he was scanning every single person at the dance that he saw. The lack of mingling suited him just fine. All the while, Spike and Faye were in constant communication with Jet, who was back in the Bebop along with Ed and Ein. Jet was sending the two of them live updates on the whereabouts of the killer and any new information they’d gleaned about her—not much, but they’d take what they could get.

Spike hadn’t expected to enjoy the activity at all—he’d practically already written out a list of complaints in his head about the idle rich to trot out at various intervals during the night. But he’d found a way to have fun with the job. When people approached his table, thinking he was one of them, and tried to mingle, instead of getting annoyed, he’d begun to use his most deadpan voice to say outrageous things that, in the interest of keeping up appearances and not making a fuss, they had to just go along with. At one point, he’d not only pretended to be an alum of Mars’ prestigious Space Institute of Technology, but completely invented a fraternity to name-drop—“Uh-huh, Sigma Kappa Fuck. Very prestigious. We were recognized by the president several times…You’ve really never heard of it?”—and gotten a lady to feebly say that she, er, thought that perhaps her brother had been a member of it. He’d be replaying that one in his head and laughing for a long, long time.

After a while, though, the whole ordeal just got tiring. They hadn’t been able to find their target at all, even though, according to her personal info that Ed had gleaned and the most up-to-date location tracking they could garner, she was supposed to be here. But they found neither hide nor hair of her, which meant either she was amazing at blending in with the crowd, or she just wasn’t here and they’d wasted all their time. The uncertainty—they couldn’t just leave, because what if their target was here and they missed her?—made the whole situation all the more frustrating. Not even Spike’s identification goggles were helping. They worked fine when the crew’s goal was to identify a single face in a restaurant, but apparently picking out and getting the data on a specific person at a crowded ball, where everyone was moving around and the faces were constantly shifting, was too much for the things. Spike knew they should have gotten the newer model.

Now it was some ungodly hour of the night—god, how long did these society events go on? Spike thought with distaste. His bow tie was undone, his hair even more mussed than usual, and he desperately wished he could just go back to the Bebop and crash. The band was striking up their last song of the night, the last hurrah, the last dance. If they didn’t find their target in the next few minutes, the whole night would have been a wash.

“What about you?” he asked Faye now.

“No one will tell me anything,” she complained. “Either they don’t know the target at all, or if they do, they won’t tell me anything about them because they can’t dare be seen even knowing about this distasteful person in passing, it would ruin their reputation…” She shook her head in disgust. “Even when I do the whole ‘you can trust me’ act. Or ‘let’s be dangerous.’ That tack doesn’t work on them.”

“Like these people have ever seen real danger in their lives.” Spike took one of the shrimp thingies from his plate and took a bite.

“Probably the most dangerous thing they’ve done today is decide to go out without getting their 72 daily wrinkle-remover injections.”

“Yeah.” Despite himself, Spike grinned. “Only 71.”

“The horror.” Faye rolled her eyes with a derisive smile. “Lest people think—” She suddenly stopped mid-sentence and pointed. “That’s her.”

“It is?”

“I’m sure of it.” Faye gestured to a woman on the outskirts of the gathering, near the band, where no one else ventured. She looked exactly like her mugshot, but was dressed as inconspicuously as possible in a perfectly ordinary black dress, minimal makeup, and a purse just big enough to conceal a gun. She didn’t look shifty or suspicious, exactly, but she did move sinuously among the many guests—not only making her evasion of capture look natural, but turning it into an art, a dance of its own.

Spike zoomed in on the woman using his identification goggles. It took a few awkward, half-completed attempts—she glided in and out and around and between the crowd members with such grace—but the goggles finally managed to lock on to the woman’s features, scan them, and identify them as their target with 97.2% certainty.

“You got her?” Jet’s voice crackled over the communication line.

“Yep,” Spike said. “That’s her.” He stood up and put one hand to his gun, ready to draw it at a moment’s notice, keeping an eye on the target all the while—he’d locked on to her location by now, even as she slipped in and out of sight. Faye did the same, readying her own weapon and crouching into position.

“So the location data was right,” Jet said. His voice turned urgent—“Now go catch her, before she puts some of these people in real danger for the first time in their lives!”

The band struck up its finale, the last dance of the night, dramatic strings swelling over the crowd and filling the ballroom—just as the target slipped back into view, growing ever-closer, her hand slowly moving towards her purse and whatever was inside.

Spike turned to Faye and grinned, holding one hand out in mock chivalry. “May I have this dance?”

[ohheyitsokay]

Home

this all takes place in my poly frontier universe

pairing: triple frontier guys - Will “Ironhead” Miller, Santiago “Pope” Garcia, Francisco (Frankie) “Catfish” Morales, and Ben “Benny” Miller x (f) reader

wordcount: 3k

warnings: obviously a poly relationship, which includes kissing, domestic intimacy with all of them (not just with the reader, but not in-between Will and Ben because nope), mild sexual themes

summary: scenes at the beginning of making a house with five people feel like home

<<

The manicured grass is soft where it peaked around the edges of your sandals. Hands running over the grooves of they key in your pocket, you gaze around the little front yard, mind conjuring daydreams that fit on the weathered porch of the house.

Two bathrooms will be enough right? Your thoughts are running - creating and erasing images of the future, trying to squish them like magic into the home in front of you. The yard is big enough to extend the garage and for plenty of home projects…

Across the fence and a long stretch of field, a woman is hiking her skirts up, making a beeline for you. The neighbor’s house is a considerable distance away, being out in the countryside, but she must have been watching your tour from her garden with interest.

The others had left moments before, Santi promising to come back whenever you were done. After weeks of looking at houses, it became a little ritual of yours, to spend a few minutes looking around without the clutter of wonderful distractions.

“So which one of those strapping young men is your beau?” She asks conspiringly, eyes gleaming. It catches you off guard – the lack of introduction, but she seems harmless enough.

Your smile is equally mischievous, and your head tilts a hair.

“Well, which one do you think?”

The woman considers, boot tip tapping away at her grass. You replay the moments she could’ve seen, which were few, wondering if you’d leaned in any particular direction, and wait.

“Now that I think about it, I haven’t got a clue,” her smile is wide, softer and more genuine than before - polite. “As long as you’re good neighbors,” she explains, “I guess I wouldn’t care if it was one or all of you next door.”

You smile, thanking her as salutations ring in your ears, watching with grateful eyes as she hikes back towards her home. Then you move, wandering through the empty rooms for long, quite minutes before you peak over the fence again. The woman had gone inside, and if you squint you can see who you think is her husband, sleeping with a dog on the porch.

In the other directions, there isn’t a house within a reasonable distance. A knot loosens in your chest, as an unexpected feeling of freedom from judging eyes blooms in its place.

When Santi comes back to pick you up, you take his hand across the console. His skin is warm, and his thumb automatically begins to gently move across your knuckles.

“I think it’s perfect, Pope.”

He looks at you curiously, minding his thoughts for a moment.

“Yeah, love?”

The sun was beginning to set, and you look at the peaceful little home in the rear view mirror, and smile.

“Yeah.”

-

“What?”

“We need to … break in every room.”

“I’m just saying -"

“Oh he’s talking about – wait are you really horny, right now?”

“There are boxes everywhere, idiot.”

You walk in carrying a single plant and a stack of pizzas and the conversation hushes.

“Ah – payment,” Frankie kisses your cheek, moving the plant by the window as Santi clears the table.

Someone makes a quip about it being Santi’s house and you wince, the utopia popping.

“We don’t get paid to move our own stuff, Catfish.” His dark hair is damp with sweat but he seems otherwise unaffected by the hours spent hauling. It was still surreal – that this is actually happening, that this unanimously became a long term desire.

He has the most money and Will has the best credit score, so they bought the house to save you all from questions. The movement isn’t lost on your Ironhead, and he rubs a soothing circle on your shoulder as he reaches for a plate. Of everyone, he was the one who most understood your anxiety – close proximity always led to arguments at first.

“You got lucky,” Benny takes the first slice, accepting a napkin for an additional piece. “You fell in love with a pretty good moving crew.”

“I think so,” you grin, trying to ignore your anxiety. He inhales the food, pulling you into his lap as he bickers with Will about whether or not more needed to get done today.

Eventually Frankie dictates that at the very least some cleaning should be started and the bedding should be unpacked for the evening. The agree with varying degrees of enthusiasm and after a handful of innuendos your loves begin to disperse, too dutiful to let work go unfinished. The bedframe practically builds itself, and a portable speaker makes Santi’s hips twitch as he floats through the half-barren rooms.

When Will rolls his eyes at Frankie’s choice of screw, you duck away, nerves thrumming.

And you wander around, fake cleaning, until you find your Benny clearing pizza plates. Even amongst boxes and bins and old blankets, he could be at a photo shoot. The evening light make his hair look like silk, and his eyes shine like he’s making you promises this very moment.

“I wouldn’t worry too much,” he says, drawing you into his arms as your head tilts. “We spent years in bunks and tents, and we were younger then.”

His chest was warm and you press your cheek to it, nodding. You hadn’t thought he had noticed, how anxious you’d been about the change, but you had been foolish. Even through his shirt, you can feel the thumping of his giant heart, steady as a drumbeat.

Replaying the evening in your mind, you let go of some of your worries, one by one, and he kisses the top of your head. It’s a thoughtful thing, and it never ceases to amaze you how easily he can wrap you around his finger.

“Ben?”

He makes a noise, somewhere between a hum and a grunt.

You pull his face down to yours, kissing him hard. It was a kiss that says you're grateful, and a kiss that says you love him for being… him.

He accepts it eagerly, and tiredness from the day long gone ad he presses hot, open-mouthed kisses to your lips. The world spins and you feel him shove something heavy off the couch before replacing it with you.

The cushions are dusty from everything but he makes space, and you stop caring as he moves on top of you.

The others would find you soon, their instincts kicking in, but you savor it. Benny, pressing into you, kissing you in the evening light.

The beginning of their conversation from earlier blooms in your mind and you grin as his lips trailed down your neck. It suddenly didn’t seem implausible that he planned this.

“Breaking in” aside, this was the first room you where you truly felt like this could be home.

-

You feel his hands gently replace yours on the zipper and you jump a little - he stands just outside the mirror reflection as you watch the skirts around your ankles. Behind you the big bed is made neatly, there’s a ridiculously large closet, and a tangle of phone chargers.

The bedroom: the place that set apart your home from others. The room that housed five individuals, a web of relationships, a miracle of mixed bodies and minds and hearts.

It looks big, behind you.

Warm, daft fingers tie the extra strings, a neat little bow hanging just between your shoulder blades. The silence is thick, weighted with adoration, but when he breaks it, it’s as if he can’t resist.

“You’re beautiful,” he moves closer, kissing your temple and drinking you in. Turning, your heart aches.

Will is in his dress uniform, crisscrossed with crisp lines and newly shined awards. His hair is lighter after the summer, and he tried to comb it neatly to one side. Compliments catch in your throat as you stare and he smiles, turning you gently so he can kiss you properly. His mouth tastes like mint and you can smell hints of his cologne lingering on his skin.

“Look at you,” you murmur, lips still brushing over his. Letting your hands wander over his face, smoothing his eyebrows, you feel almost in awe of him. Still, he flushes, pleased at your reaction.

“Thank you.”

His chuckle is warm, almost raspy as he tries to enjoy the quietness of your conversation, and he shakes his head. Really, you were sure he was thankful that he was been the only one free for your special evening.

“Thank you,” you correct him. “You didn’t have to do any of this.” The dinner, for your job.

In the mirror, he looked like diamonds and sapphires and gold. Will was like an action figure sometimes, solid and sculpted and stoic, but… he was looking at you like you’d hung the stars in the sky.

It made you blink, his eyes sliding over you, pupils just a little more blown than the lighting required - a gentle reset demanding your attention.

Looking back in the mirror for a moment, the room didn’t seem quite as big, or quite as revealing. It was comforting, how out of place the two of you looked, dressed to the nines because… this was your place. The softness surrounded by details perfectly woven into your life.

Turning, you slip your arms around his neck, gently musing his hair, and his eyebrows draw together, accepting, but confused.

And as you tuck your hand into his elbow and step into your heels, you resist the urge to thank him again.

“I like it better like this,” you admit, and he flushes again, beaming. Looking around, you realize you’re actually looking forward to coming home more than you’re excited to leave. It’s a new feeling, in this space with the four of them and it hits you, hard in your chest. Still, the man beside you is unwavering and you let the feeling consume you, knowing that you’re safe.

-

“Frankie, what is that?”

He flinches, nervousness cutting the excitement on his face.

“Rhetorical question,” Santi says, grinning at you. “He got it from a friend who was going to toss it out.”

It’s a hot tub, taking up a decent chunk of your back porch.

“If anyone can make it work like a dream, it’s Catfish.” Will’s tone is matter-of-fact, all honesty and pride.

Your sweet Francisco drops his tool and grabs your hand, his dark eyes big. “¿Cariño, por favor? From me, to you?” You can see his laptop up, replacement parts on saved tabs, and you tiptoe to kiss his cheek. He likes to have projects, needs to have somewhere to do things, fix things, create things. Maybe at one point it was because he liked the distraction, it was a … replacement coping mechanism, if you will, but it became his pride, to use his hands to improve your lives.

It doesn’t take long, two weeks at most, between his job and his loves, and his long list of honey-dos, but he does it.

“Please and thank you,” you say, and when he kisses you, slow and deep and happy, you hear cheers and high-five and you almost can’t kiss him because he’s smiling.

And it takes awhile to fill, (Will thanking the stars that the water bill is reasonable,) and even longer to heat, and then it’s ready. The boys yank on swim trunks, thanking Frankie with enthusiasm, and you watch them sink into the steaming tub with as they sigh.

You have a bathing suit, of course you do, but you pull on one of his work shirts, knowing he won’t mind the chemicals from the water making the stains blur. And you pair of shorts you caught him watching your butt in, thinking of acknowledging his hard work in your own way.

The volume of your bodies makes it overflow, hot water sloshing onto the ground, but it’s bliss. It’s big, and they shout over the bubbles, talking excitedly about the future, and your heart feels warm in your favorite way.

The others leave early, taking loud laughter with them, and it leaves you and your Catfish. You let yourself float, moving right on top of him, and his hands grab at your hips, slipping and sliding over your skin as he kisses you once, twice. Slow.

It’s late – the stars stretch, there’s a bit of a breeze, and there’s not a light on for miles.

“You like it?” his voice is raspy, quiet, intense, but almost shy. Like if you said no it would break him in two.

“Of course I do, Frankie.” He looks pleased, hand absentmindedly running under his shirt and over your side. Even with the heat of the water, his hand feels like socks warmed in the dryer some cold winter morning. Comforting, maybe a little electric.

You let out a long, happy sigh, and settle against him, content to stay with him until you’re pruny.

“I think…. This is exactly what this house needed.” He starts a little, surprised, but it’s not an exaggeration.

There was always work to do and things to change, but it was the first time you looked out, and didn’t feel a twinge of fear, that anyone was looking in. It would’ve felt vulnerable, intimate to be so exposed, but… it was perfect, because he created it for you. Confidence and pride bubble around you, and Frankie’s eyebrows dip as he smiles – understanding.

-

“Yeah.” Its simple, not too hot, not too cold. Just… right.

It feels like… tar and lava, hot and dark and thick, bubbling and sticky and you want to punch something. Or scream, or cry.

Your Pope finds you standing rigid, smudges of flour on your skin and clothes, pans and spatulas strewn.

“Are we out of sugar?” To your credit, you try to keep your voice even, but he knows you better than that.

Santi shakes his head, plucking it from the pantry and looking guilty. Your mind pauses it’s rampage, and you wince, because you should be the one making that apologetic face, not him. Hot tears bubble in your eyes and you hate it, hate that they’re coming for what feels like no reason.

“Baby,” he says, tone pleading, setting the sugar down and reaching for you. The afternoon sun makes his eyes like rich, deep pots of gold, his hair somehow both soft and statuesque.

When he pauses, the tears fall against your will, just two thick drops down your cheeks. His hand encompasses your whole jaw, thumb gentle as it rubs away the saltwater, and he looks a tad helpless.

And there’s understanding in his eyes and through the blur you think maybe it’s pity. He stands, and your heart clenches, knowing he’ll go get Will, or someone because you’re being ridiculous but… he doesn’t.

You’re saying something about how the kitchen is wrong, how it’s been building for days, you’ve been here almost a week and you can’t fucking find anything. Panic and frustration locked horns in your chest and you couldn’t breathe and all you wanted to do was make something nice –

Instead, he’s pulling out things and piling them onto the floor in categories around you. It’s almost comical the stacks he makes but he seems determined and in your confusion the tears slow to a stop.

“Santi –” he hushes you. The cupboard doors hang open, and he guides you, lifting you up and up and into his arms. It’s solid and grounding, and he’s not as tall as the others and you needed him desperately.

And slowly, you begin to put things away where it makes sense, to you, and he helps. Not once does he argue with you, not even a moment when his dark eyebrows knit together in judgement. Dutifully he cleans and places everything just where you tell him, and you can almost feel the steam rising off of you as you begin to cool.

The final pile is a mountain of cloth, aprons and oven mitts and… something you’ve never seen before. Or actually, something you had, just not in your house. A set of hand towels you’d wistfully looked at awhile ago, before talking yourself out of the purchase. You had dozens at this point and didn’t need more but…

The man seating on the floor, folding them into perfect squares, is the answer to the question your mind produces.

You feel like you’ve been hosed down from head to toe, almost cold from the absence of frustration in your blood.

Pushing the pile to the side you climb into his lap, as determined as he was, and he looks surprised. It’s silly: sitting in your lover’s lap on the kitchen floor, but it feels more real than a movie. It’s your kitchen, yours and his, in this moment.

You kiss him, slow and purposeful and –

He knows you like the back of his hand.

-

You’re sitting on the bathroom counter distracting Santi as he shaves when Benny bursts in to tell you a story.

Will trails behind him, patiently waiting for his brother to take a breathe so he can set the record straight. Absentmindedly he weaves between them to pick up a fallen hand towel, passing it to Pope to wipe the shaving cream from his jaw. They share a moment and Benny’s story stutters out. Looking up from your nails you see Frankie leaning against the doorframe, a toothbrush hanging from his mouth.

There’s hardly room to move – and you couldn’t have it any other way.

His eyebrows are bent as he takes in the four of you, crammed into the spare bathroom, and Ben laughs.

<<

taglist:

@fangirl-316 @scribbledghost @writeforfandoms @beautyagegoodnesssize @princess76179 @mrsbentallmadge @horton-hears-a-honk

for the poly frontier:

@grogusmum

[queerofzaun]

Request for platonic Jinx and Reader?

Reader ran away from home and meets Jinx, even though Reader is the complete opposite they still can relate cause they got some stuff they hidin'. Reader on the outside is this cute, soft person but is tired of people's shit and is this👌to snapping and murdering someone.

Also, Reader knows how to cook because I would not be surprised if Jinx and Silco cannot even boil water.

𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒔𝒐 𝒅𝒊𝒇𝒇𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒕

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 : jinx x reader

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 : mentions of violence and death

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 : reader cooks for jinx, which leads to a deep conversation after. secrets are revealed between the two.

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 : 1k

𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 : I tried my best with this one! I hope this is okay :)

It had been two months since you ran away from home. You had your reasons, and more than anything just wanted to escape from everything. Your past. That's when you met the blue haired bomber. The two of you were very different from each other but you couldn't help but feel like you could resonate with her. The part of her that wasn't afraid to lose control and do what she wanted without fear. You envied that, but also admired it.

You had always been told you were soft, a delicate girl with a heart of gold. Maybe that was true at some point in time. But that anger you had been suppressing for years felt like it was a ticking bomb. It was only a matter of time until you went off.

You stood in the kitchen, frying meat as you cooked for Jinx and Silco. They were both in a bad mood, and refused to cook for themselves cause they couldn't prepare a proper meal even if their lives depended on it. So here you were, cooking for the incapable pair. Jinx was sitting on the counter, legs swinging back and forth as she hummed to herself quietly.

"Okay, Jinx. Food is ready." You told her with a smile, putting a piece of meat on the plate for her and Silco. You then fixed your own plate before walking with her to the table where Silco was sitting. His cigar was hanging from his lips, looking over some paper. Jinx set his plate in front of him then taking a seat beside him.

"Thank ya, toots." Jinx praised, clasping her hands together with a bright smile before letting out an elated sigh.

"So, want to tell me why I'm hearing that there was an explosion earlier this morning?" Silco eyed his daughter, irritation on his face.

"Oh.. yeah, that." She giggled, "What can I say, I was itchin' for some fun."

"You need to be more careful, it's not a good look for us to have you blowing things up for no reason." He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Boringg." Jinx trailed, stabbing her meat with her fork with as she bit her lip as she smiled.

You giggled at their interactions. You wished you could've had something like this growing up.. A real family. It had only been a few months but you felt a home with them. With Jinx. She was your best friend, and the only person who had cared for you. Maybe that's why her differences never scared you off like they would most.

And if anyone picked on you? She would always have their ass. You were always looked after and protected by her. It was new to you.

"We should go work on your gadgets after dinner." You told her with a smirk.

Silco shook his head, "There is no point in trying to reason with the both of you, is there?"

"Nope!" Jinx replied, popping the p.

꒰꒰・┄┄┄┄・♡・┄┄┄┄・꒱꒱

You sat on the couch of her place, legs resting over the doll she had made. You thought to question her on it a few times, but you could tell that it was a sensitive subject for her so you decided best for her to come clean on her own. She was rocking her head to the beat of the music coming from her record player.

She held up one of the bombs she was working on, walking over to you as she slid her goggles to her forehead. She plopped on the couch beside you. "Whatcha think, y/n?"

Her blue eyes gazed at you as she awaited an answer. You took the bomb from her hands and inspected it. You smiled at the scribbled crayon, you loved that she added that touch to it. It fit her so well. She was absolutely gifted as well, would've made a brilliant inventor.

"It's amazing, Jinx. I love it." You praised, which earned a big grin from her. She took it back, admiring it in her hands as she looked it over.

Her gaze flickered to the doll, her smile faltering. She then clutched her head in her hands. You were used to the behavior now, but it did seem a little odd at first. She was prone to outbursts, and saying things that just didn't make sense at times.

"Shut up!" She yelled, quickly grabbing the gun and shooting the doll.

You grabbed her shoulder, making her turn the gun to you. You froze, staring at the barrel with wide eyes. She breathed heavy, eyes filling with tears as she dropped it. She pulled her knees to her chest. You frowned, wondering what was going on with her.

"It's okay, Jinx. I'm not mad at you." You soothed, rubbing her back.

"It's just. I can't stop hearing their voices.. seeing their faces. From that.. day." She cried, wiping her tears with the back of her hand.

"What happened?" You asked, "If you don't mind telling me."

She explained the whole thing to you. How she had killed her brothers, Mylo and Claggor during an accident. And lost her father and sister right after. She kept repeating it was a mistake, which made you frown. Though, now you understood why she was the way she was. And you two had more in common than you thought.

"I actually killed my parents." You told her, which made her look up at you with curious eyes.

"It was an accident. I had left a candle burning while I snuck out one night. I came home to find the house engulfed by flames." You admitted, fidgeting with your fingers.

"And my older brother blamed me for it. He always reminded me that it should've been me." You further explained, your fists clenching at the thought your asshole brother. You hated him, he was all you had left, and he made your life a living hell.

"Do you see their faces too?" She asked, those big blue eyes glimmering in hope. At least it looked that way to you.

"Yeah." You told her. Which was true, just her case was worse than yours. You were much better at controlling everything, but you understood her struggle. And this only made your friendship feel more solid.

She looked down to the bomb, biting her lip before smirking. She held it up, "We should make him pay. No one hurts my y/n, and gets away with it."

You were surprised when the idea excited you. Maybe indulging in that anger you had been trying to bottle up this whole time, would free you. You returned the smirk, "Let's do it."

[karereiko]

Thanatos from Hades game.

The death has arrived!

I’ve wanted to give Than a gentle face, the happier one. To show some of his sweet embarrassment, which he shows after the matters between him and Zag got better and better as game progress. And I used that headcanon that Thanatos blushes in golden XD.

Thanatos really wears a lot. When I was making Zagreus I thought this boy has a lot details but Than bet him in this contest. I was thinking about making scythe too, but I let it go for now.

I don’t think there was a piece that gave me more problems while felting than all others. Than wasn’t easy but it was more a matter of time than difficulty after I figured out how to felt some things while doing Zag. Than’s hair were easy part for sure, especially comparing them to Zag’s hair.

Only sad part is that I’ve created backside of his hair (very detailed cut of them) and it was all a waste because later I covered them with hood XD. The same of some of his gold neck items. After I added that front plate, it covered 70% of stuff under it. But I rather do such details anyway because in later steps I never know what will end covered, what not.

I will post more photos of Zagreus and Thanatos together next week. I’ve decided to keep it separate since this post already have many images because I’ve done some step up photos for people who might try to do their own Than.

Interesting thing I noticed that items that Zagreus gift to Thanatos all have violet color, a lot of it, but Than alone doesn’t have much of such Violet in his design, it’s mostly his hand eye, a little on his belt and most of it is on scythe and sword. Does that matter? Nope, It’s just thing I noticed and now shared with whoever is reading this.

While making Thanatos and looking over characters details while I was finishing all trophies in game, I’ve noticed that Hades probably gives everyone rules on dress-code XD. No one of gods allowed in the house until you wear at least three skulls. Even dress of one characters who returns after first credits (to not spoiler, but most Hades players knows who I’m talking about) is given those skulls XD. 

Will I felt something from Hades soon? I don’t know. For sure Nyx is so beautiful and her hair screams a challenge for me to felt them. I was thinking of making Dusa because I have those Styrofoam balls and wanted to check if it’s possible to felt on them figures like that. Meg’s bat is cute... But I have other order now for Carbuncle, and I wanna do Melia or Jinx as next character figure. I would do everyone if only process of making was faster. Aphrodite would probably be easiest Hades human-like character to make XD

Now last, some tips if you wanna do Than, well, how I did him you can see on photos. For skulls, wings and plate I’ve made myself a cardboard template so making their shapes took me shorter time and it was less bothering. For Neck piece first I made patch, added it, rolled some of yellow wool, felt it a little and added to upper edge for more 3d effect. Well adding brown wool greatly helps in shaping all those golden items Than wears. Well, if there was a question about how I did some detail I’m always happy to answer.

[daandyli0n]

Trampled Dandelions Random Facts

@hopalongfairywren enjoy some interesting fun facts!

most of these are just my regular dsmp hcs, but some of them are TD specific

(this is about the characters)

~~~~~~~~~~~

-sam once said to tubbo “I can’t believe that you’re the only cis member of your family!” and then tubbo just had to sit there awkwardly and say “Um...about that-”

-c!beeduo actually had a wedding in this au. it happened sometime like maybe a week after c!wilbur came back

-after getting killed in prison, sam didn’t just feel sympathy for tommy, he felt empathy for him

-tommy, tubbo, wilbur, and fundy are widely known on the server as the L’man Fam.

-tubbo actually really likes singing and playing the guitar and piano (he’s also pretty good at it), but it’s one of those situations where he feels insecure about it. tommy, ranboo, quackity, wilbur, and michael enjoy it though :]

-quackity is a therapist. and nonbinary.

-quackity has also been clingyduo’s therapist since the aftermath of nov. 16th

-speaking of the 16th, that actually goes quite a bit differently in TD! basically, to put it one way, instead of completely blowing up l’manberg (although there was still damage cause wil didn’t like. insulate the walls well enough), wilbur made the decision to instead use the tnt to...blow himself up. ho16 style. phil still stabs him, and that’s actually what makes wil step off the pressure plate, and causes the explosion

-wilbur becomes a zombie piglin after he’s revived

-one of the biggest what ifs for this au is like. what if fundy became president of new l’manberg and niki became vp (in-universe explanation is because the server members are actually smart enough to not make a 16 year old a president. like, after the 16th they could’ve just. Picked An Actual Adult to do it)

-because phil didn’t view tommy and tubbo as his kids, responsibility of the kids was passed onto fundy cause he was closest adult family member those two had

-fundy signed those two up for therapy immediately post-16th

-so, fun fact! while dream would very reluctantly tell people they could visit tommy (stuff along the lines of what’s in canon like “Oh, Tommy doesn’t want visitors right now, but you can go if you want to”), quackity is the only person that he’d outright say wasn’t allowed to visit tommy.

hmmm...surely it can’t be because they’re tommy’s therapist

...right?

-tubbo really got into f**king around with redstone and science during the exile arc of this au (definitely not because he was struggling through some serious mental health issues and also dealing with the fact his brother was exiled and, you know, had supposedly jumped to his death, and he was desperately trying to cope in any way he could...nope, definitely not that)

-tubbo and fundy were the ones to discover logstedshire after tommy left. while fundy freaked out, tubbo just stood there, staring at the pillar in disbelief, while he just quietly whispered, mostly to himself, “Surely not.”

-benchtrio were vibing together in the mansion after tommy got out of prison

-quackity in this au looks great in some simple gothic makeup. also in those sparkly kinds of makeup too. and red and gold. y’know what, i’m sure they could look fabulous in anything-

-quackity and eret have both, at different times in this au, assisted ranboo with things like makeup and style. ranboo appreciates it. they still help out whenever ranboo needs it

-ranboo was one of the few people besides quackity and fundy who checked in on tubbo regularly during the exile arc of this au. especially after tommy “died”/went missing

that’s all for now! i think y’all can tell which arc i’m obsessing over in this au-

[j-pankratz]

Stuck in the Middle with You

A gift for the lovely @chubbykatsudon for the Novigrad Gift Exchange 2021!

Geraskefer, minor Lamden. 16507 Words. Can also be read here on ao3! Rated M for an abundance of cursing and deeply suggestive flirting! Tags for a small amount of canon typical violence, & a very big dog (Roach, my love)! Other tags include: Oh My God The Were Neighbors, Enemies to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, Idiots to Lovers, We're Really Running The Gamut Here, Going viral on TikTok, The best lease of all fucking time, apple juice, and ever changing groupchat names.

x

“A year! A full year. Two! THREE!”

“Hmm.” Geralt muttered. In one hand above his head, he dangled the dead-though-still-writhing remains of a drowner. He’d stabbed it in the spine— nerve damage, unfortunate stuff. At his feet, the groveling man who’d gotten him into this mess in the first place. About 75% of the people he had to rescue from monsters, he found, were the rich sticking their noses places they oughtn’t, out of pure arrogance. This one, a landlord, apparently, had decided to wander off drunkenly from a party and go poking about the river.

He whimpered. “I— I’ll throw in maintenance! Please, Witcher, I—”

“Do you allow pets,” he asked dryly, “I need a place for Roach.” He gestured with his head to Roach, who was watching the thrashing drowner body with interest.

“Ah, no, we don’t—” Geralt dug his thumb into a wound in the deceased drowner’s neck, causing it to hiss and send out spittle. The kneeling landlord cried in fear.

“Yes! Yes! Fine, we can accept your dog, please, please Witcher I can’t die, I—”

“Deal,” Geralt said, and thrust his sword through the drowner once more, severing its head from its body. The man yelped as blood and assorted monster bits sprayed out. Geralt dropped the remnants of its head and neck to the ground, landing with a sickening splat, and the man wailed again.

“When’s move in?”

——

Move-in, as it turned out, was a week and a half later, the first of the month. It was a good apartment, better than he’d have ever rented for himself— a quiet street, an elevator, laundry in the basement, and a doorman half the time. Geralt had a view of the city from his bedroom and of the tree-lined street below from his brightly and naturally lit living room, while the second bedroom had a view of the apartment’s courtyard. The kitchen was a good size, though he didn’t cook much, and it had a dishwasher, which was worth its weight in gold. There was a corner shop at the end of the block, and a few restaurants, coffee shops, and bars within walking distance. Eskel and Coën would love visiting, at least, and if he got a decent enough couch and tv, Lambert would too. Not that they’d have much opportunity to visit, but he could have his dreams, few and minor as they were.

It was on the 8th floor, which was high enough to feel safe. There were only four apartments to a floor, which helped. Ultimately, he figured, nobody would really suspect a Witcher to live in a regular apartment building. And if anyone came after him, well, he’d deal with that then. With Ciri away at school, he would have less to stress about. He’d be subtle, wouldn’t tell people in the building he was a Witcher, wouldn’t talk much to anyone, would hope they wouldn’t notice his eyes. He’d wear sunglasses. It would be fine! This apartment was probably the second most favorable payment he’d ever had from a contract—the first of course, being Ciri— he wasn’t about to turn it down, or regret taking it.

Even when he was stuck in the elevator with, quite possibly, the most annoying man on earth.

Geralt was taking the last of his suitcases upstairs, which was really Roach’s suitcase, and a box of his cooking supplies— an embarrassingly small number of pots, pans, bowls, plates, and utensils. Just as the door was closing—

“WAIT! Hold that, hold that, if you’d please, fuck!”

A man with brown hair came barreling toward the elevator, just barely sticking his expensive looking brown leather shoe in the doors before they closed. They slid open with a soft ding, and the man, out of breath, tumbled inside.

He was tall, with a mop of brown hair and egregiously bright teal pants, a slightly lighter blue dress shirt tucked in to match. He heaved against the elevator walls, breathing heavily and eventually sinking down to a crouch to catch his breath.

“Good save,” Geralt said.

“Thank you,” the man said between gasps. “You saved my life.”

“I didn’t do anything."

The man waved his hand at the buttons. “Button. Button. You. Press. You pressed the— you know.”

“No I didn’t.”

The man paused, his breathing slowly going back to normal. “You didn’t—” He looked up at Geralt, his eyes a brilliant, piercing blue. He was frowning. “What do you mean you didn’t? You didn’t press the button?”

“Nope.”

The man came to standing, and Geralt found that the man wasn’t just tall, he was nearly Geralt’s height. “You mean to tell me, you see a man running for the elevator, screaming for you to hold the door, and instead you just— just stand there and watch?”

Geralt lifted his box a bit. “Got my hands full.”

“You have elbows! Two of them, might I add!” the man cut in before Geralt could lift the suitcase tucked into the crook of one arm. Instead, he shrugged.

“More fun to watch you run.”

“More fun to— I cannot believe this,” the man said, looking up at the floor numbers. The elevator continued to rise, and he suddenly groaned. “Ah, fuck, we’ve missed my floor,” he said, fumbling over to the buttons. Geralt frowned.

“We’re only on the fifth floor.” He watched the man press the button for the second floor. “You ran to the elevator… to go to the second floor?”

“I don’t like stairs!” he complained; Geralt could tell he’d had to give this explanation many times before.

“You like running more than stairs?”

“I would run toward convenience any day.”

“Mmm,” Geralt hummed softly.

They stood in silence for a moment. “Sorry, who are you? New neighbor, then?”

“Yep.”

“Do you have a name, or must I call you Mildly Rude Elevator Man? You wouldn’t be the first to earn a title from me. I don’t even know the woman’s name who lives in the Penthouse so now she’s just Penthouse Lady. But surely you have a name?”

Geralt smiled. “8b.”

“Oh, hilarious, 8b, alright, then I’m 2d. Lovely to meet you, 8b,” he said as the doors slid open to the 8th floor. “Do you need some help with those?”

“No,” Geralt said, and maneuvered himself out of the elevator carefully.

“Alright, fine then, if you say so, but I’m very helpful, actually, when I need to be. I have two hands, you know.”

“I’m sure,” Geralt grunted and approached his door. Fishing in his pocket for his keys for a moment, he found himself turned to the man in the elevator— 2d— and watched as his eyes grew wide as they fell on Geralt’s medallion, just as the elevator dinged and the doors began to slide closed. Well. Fuck.

“Wait— is that—” 2d’s eyes grew wide, and then a grin split across his face. “You’re a Witcher, aren’t you! Wait!” but the doors had already met, and the elevator began its descent.

Okay, so, subtlety gone, and given how chatty 2d had been, he figured it was only a matter of time before the entire building knew. That was the price for a free 3-year lease in a building far above his price range at the best of times, he supposed.

There was no way this would be worth it.

——

There were three days of peace, before 2d came knocking.

It was mid-afternoon, and in the living room the sunlight streamed through his new windows onto the small amount of furniture he’d arranged so far. Roach’s bed, his orange couch, a small tv, a chair, a barstool, a bookcase. Everything else was either still in boxes or simply not purchased yet— he’d never had need for it. He didn’t even know what to do with an apartment he could enjoy spending time in. The morning had been spent sitting on the couch, letting his coffee go cold as he looked around and tried to figure out what to do with this place he might actually be able to relax in. Until, of course, the knocking began.

He tried to ignore it, but 2d was persistent. After the 5th set of knocks, Geralt groggily rose from his chair, coffee in hand, and opened the door.

“Good morning! Hi, ah, hope you’re alright, settling in well?”

“What do you want.”

“Oh, glad to see you’re in a good mood,” 2d replied easily. His outfit was just as bright today, his pants a vibrant green with a mango pattern on them, his shirt a matching orange, with yellow cuffs, and a… oh, gods above, a guitar case strapped to his back, the leather strap running across his chest, hugging him closely. His clothes fit remarkably well, Geralt noticed, and then tried to promptly un-notice. But it was hard. 2d’s eyes looked especially blue today, which was bullshit. Geralt raised an eyebrow and hoped he wasn’t being obvious about anything, though it wasn’t as if Witchers let their faces be easily readable.

“Listen. You’re a Witcher. Very neat, very cool, I could smell the heroics and heartbreak on you in that elevator, I’m getting whiffs of it even now—”

“That’s sweat. Or coffee.”

“Well, okay, it’s not, but okay. My point here is, you have stories. And I write stories. Well, I write songs. Music. Poetry, art, etcetera. And I’m good, I promise I’m fairly decently good—”

“Was that you on Sunday singing the song about the… rabbit? And the moon?” He didn’t remember it well, but whoever was singing had definitely mentioned worms, as well.

“The… oh! Yes! Ah,” he cleared his throat and began. “But have you heard the story of the rabbit in the moon? Or the cow that hopped the planets while straddling a spoon? Right? Yes, love that one, it’s a fun one to sing at bars. Great warm-up song. Cosmo Sheldrake! Gotta love them, strange bastards. I should record that for TikTok, now that I think of it.”

“Sure.” The man’s singing voice was… light, airy, with something like a faint rasp in there, but he dipped down low into his register another was a whole new layer of sound there as well. It sounded like him, but it was somehow completely different than what Geralt would have expected the man’s singing voice to be like. “Cows don’t do that, though. And the references to beasts in your other songs were just as unrealistic. You shouldn’t be confusing people, monsters are serious business. Someone could get hurt.”

“Perfect!” 2d cried excitedly. “See! You know these things. I would like to learn these things. Think of it as educating the public, and helping out your great new friend Jaskier. Which, hello, I’m Jaskier. You’re Geralt, right? Of Rivia?”

Geralt shifted on his feet. It shouldn’t have surprised him. There were only so many witchers, let alone ones with long white hair and a wolf medallion. Damn internet. “And if I am?”

Jaskier’s wide grin turned sly. “Then I know for a fact you have stories.”

The witcher sighed. Well. He’d bore this man with his bad storytelling, and he’d get bored, and he’d leave. In the meantime, Geralt would get to look at 2d’s well-fitting clothes and shoulders that looked terrifically broad. It could be worse. There was a long pause.

“Fine. This once. But I’m not your friend.”

“Brilliant! Beautiful, fantastic,” Jaskier was saying, and slipped past Geralt and in to the apartment.

And then Roach barreled in.

“OH, HOLY FUCK!” Jaskier screamed in surprise, as the great Dane barked, getting right up to Jaskier before Geralt quieted her with a quick command. She plopped down at Jaskier’s feet obediently, and stared up at him with big, watery brown eyes. Jaskier’s hands were raised high above his head, and when he spoke, it came out as a raspy whisper.

“I did not know you had a dog. Have you always had this dog? Whose dog is this, this is your dog? How have I missed this. What’s his name?”

“Her name is Roach.”

“Her names Roach,” he repeated in the same horse whisper. “Why have you named your dog after an insect.”

“Can’t get rid of her,” Geralt replied, though he knew that made it sound like he didn’t absolutely adore her. The name had been a joke, and it had stuck, simple as that.

“Oh. Lovely. Okay. Will she eat me? She won’t eat me, right? This is a good dog, a good dog with manners?”

“She won’t eat you. Unless I tell her to.”

“Stop that!! Oh, stop that, oh my gods. Okay. Okay. Hello puppy. Nice, non-murdering puppy. Not a puppy. Good… large dog. Good large girl. You’re nice, aren’t you. You won’t kill me at all, not even a little bit.” He slowly let one hand come down to his side, and Roach surged forward to lick it. Jaskier yanked his hand back up and shut his eyes tightly.

“Okay. Maybe I should come back. At another time when I am more prepared for your non-murdering, not at all monstrous 4-foot tall dog.”

“She’s more like 2 1/2 feet tall.” Geralt cocked his head to the side. “Maybe three.”

“Fuck. Gods. Okay. Okay. Another day then! But definitely. I will want to hear these stories. Okay?”

“Sure,” Geralt agreed. This was more entertainment than he had expected today. He held back laughs, smiling while Jaskier’s eyes were still shut tightly. “Another day, then.”

“Okay. I’m backing out now, he said, and slowly began to do so, not turning away from Roach. She came to standing, and he jumped back at the sound of her nails against the tile floor of the kitchen, eyes still squeezed shut. “OKAY, OH, NO, okay doggie, no following me. No following. Thank you. Okay. I will. See you soon. Okay? Okay.”

And then Jaskier was out the door, and running down the stairwell. Geralt closed the door behind him, and turned to see Roach looking at him, her head cocked. He laughed, and bent down to pet her.

——

It took just over 24 hours for 2d— no, no, Jaskier— to come knocking once more. This time, Geralt answered the door more quickly; best to either get this over with, or get some more laughs out of it while he could. Behind the door stood Jaskier, mildly nervous looking, already glancing over Geralt’s shoulder into the apartment.

It was either a blessing or a curse that Jaskier’s outfit was not nearly as tight-fitting today, though the strap of his guitar case still cut close to his figure against his lavender sweater. In his arms, he held a variety of brand-new-looking dog toys; kongs and bones and pull-ropes and even some balls.

“Hi! Ah, this time, I’ve come prepared! With distractions and assurances your Roach will not eat me. If you’d still be available for relaying some stories?”

“…You bought her toys?”

“Ah…. maybe a bit? Well, yes, I certainly don’t have a dog, I just did some searching for what kind of things abnormally large dogs might enjoy and picked some up on a walk this morning. Nothing big.” Geralt looked again at the pile in Jaskier’s arms. He’d… bought toys. For Roach. Who he’d just met the day previously, and had scared him silly.

The more time he spent around Jaskier, the less he understood about the man.

Geralt took a step back and gave a whistle, and soon Roach was trotting in from his bedroom. He could smell the tension off Jaskier, and put a hand on his shoulder to calm him. “Try to relax. She’ll know if you’re stressed.”

“Right. No stress, just a dog who could swallow me whole. That’s fine, this is fine.”

“Put your hand out low, so she can sniff.”

After a bit of hesitation, Jaskier took a deep breath and did as he was told. “Friendly, Roach,” Geralt said as she sniffed loudly around Jaskier’s hand. And a moment later, she was licking his hand, sobering all over it. Jaskier laughed nervously, a light and airy sound Geralt found himself enjoying a bit too much. His smile was radiant, the relief in his broad shoulders palpable. He carefully moved his hand to give her a scratch on the cheek, and Roach leaned into it, pressing up against him, her tag wagging a mile a minute.

“Feel better?”

“Hmm? Oh! Yes, yes,” Jaskier said, pulling his attention away from Roach. “I’m really not usually scared of dogs. She’s just… very large, and was unexpected. But you’re a good girl, aren’t you? You’re not nearly as scary as you look! Just like your owner, isn’t that right.”

Geralt frowned. He knew he was frightening, there was no sense in denying it. He had frightened nearly every human he came across, at least in some small way. But even since Jaskier had realized he was a witcher, Geralt hadn’t smelled fear on him. Only just now, when he’d met Roach.

Again, he understood Jaskier less than before.

Geralt stepped back wordlessly and allowed Jaskier to step further into the apartment. He pulled out one of the balls tucked into the pile of toys in his arm and threw it further into the living room, and Roach excitedly ran after it, plopping down to chew on it next to her well-loved gray bed.

Jaskier followed, moving through the room like the breeze, before sitting on the couch, kicking his shoes off, and shoving his feet between the cushions.

“So! Where should we begin! Tales of your early days, your first forays with beasts? Your most recent victories? Epic quests?”

Geralt stared at Jaskier, an eye twitching. “Don’t— what are you doing?”

“Well, I figured we’d be here a while, might as well get comfortable!”

“On a stranger’s couch. A witcher’s couch.”

“On my new, good friend Geralt-The-Witcher’s couch! We’re hardly neighbors, we’re strangers! Wait, no, sorry, hardly strangers, we’re— where are you going?”

Geralt had turned and walked to his bedroom. He quietly shut the door behind him, walked to his bed, grabbed a pillow, and screamed into it. He was good at controlling his emotions. He barely had them, after all, that’s what they said about witchers. But this man, this self-proclaimed friend was driving him to madness, and it had only been four days in the building. He briefly considered moving, abandoning the apartment entirely, giving it to someone else. Or perhaps throwing this Jaskier out the window. But none of those were worth the time, or the inevitable paperwork. He could kick Jaskier out, but he’d come back, he knew he would.

It was best to just be boring. Just be boring, refuse to tell the good stories, and tell the boring ones he did have, badly. Jaskier would get tired of it, take what he got, and discover there was nothing interesting or worth telling about witches. Who would want to hear songs about him, anyway? Humans, in large part, still thought witchers were monsters. It had gotten better the past few decades, but… not much.

He took a deep breath and pulled the over-worn pillow away from his face. Time to just get it over with, he supposed. Another deep breath and he returned to the living room, where Jaskier had pulled out a pad of paper, several pens, his guitar, a small bag of what looked to be popcorn, and three notebooks that looked completely filled already. Jaskier whipped around to see him and gave a big, toothy smile.

He was doing this, Geralt thought, just to get the writer out of his hair. No more, no less. It had absolutely nothing to do with anything else.

“Geralt! I am perfectly ready, and if you can’t think of where to start I have dozens of questions for you. Hundreds, really, so don’t worry about it at all! Sit down, sit down.”

“This is my house,” Geralt said, grabbing the only other chair and sitting a ways from Jaskier, “I should be inviting you to take a seat.”

“Well, that might be the case if you were an experienced host, but I get the feeling it’s not really your forte. Alright, ready to begin?”

“Did you notice how I didn’t invite you to take a seat?”

“I did, actually! Again, I can tell you’re not a natural at the hosting thing. Not to worry, I’m plenty comfortable now.” There was a glint in his eye that told Geralt he knew exactly what he was doing.

Geralt sighed, and fought off the thought that Jaskier was very, very lucky he was pretty.

A few hours later, Jaskier had gathered up his things, ready to head out. “Don’t worry, Geralt, you were plenty helpful. And our next session we will absolutely get to some… even more interesting stories, I’m sure we’ve only just barely scratched the surface.”

“What.”

Geralt had been as boring as he could possibly manage, giving only the barest of details. Jaskier had still seemed intrigued, still prodded. His eyes had been full of life and wonder at the smallest details, he’d taken fervent notes, he’d looked like an oil painting when the sun had begun to set and cast him in vibrant golds, showing off the warmth in his cheeks and the well-hidden but sharp lines of his body. This had nearly killed Geralt. And now Jaskier wanted to do it again?!

“Yes, of course, I’ll need to do some writing and then come back to you for more— really, I think I should just accompany you on your next contract, I think I’d get much more out of it— not to say you didn’t do wonderfully, dear, but I can hardly imagine that anything compares to the real thing.”

“No. Too dangerous.”

“I can keep out of the way!” Jaskier said, hefting the guitar case onto his back.

“You can’t, you won’t it wouldn’t matter if you could. No.”

“Oh, I’ll wear you down.” Geralt was deeply afraid that this was correct. “Gods, I should probably eat. What time is it? It’s not Thursday, is it? Is it Tuesday? Oh, I wonder if Posada’s is doing their wings night tonight. You’ve had them, right?” Geralt stared back blankly. “Geralt. Ohhhhh, Geralt, you cannot tell me you haven’t had Posada’s wings yet.” Geralt raised a single eyebrow.

“I’ve been here four days.”

“And what have you eaten!”

“…Food?” The real answer was anything that took less than 15 minutes to prepare, cook, and eat, but he wasn’t about to say that, was he? That’s not a thing you say to people.

“Ohhh, no, Geralt. No no no.” Jaskier shrugged off his Guitar case and whipped out his phone. “No, this is my treat. Oh fuck, it’s Thurs—no, nope, sorry, saw the T and got worried. It is in fact Tuesday, and it’s 7pm so we’re in the clear; we are in fact doing Posada’s wings deal. This is half the reason rent on this place is worth it— not that you have to worry about that. I mean, neither do I but, whatever. Sit down, I’ll order now. Wait, no, you get the plates, I’ll order, okay.”

Geralt stared blankly at Jaskier as he bustled through the apartment, around the unopened boxes and suitcases, the few pieces of furniture, all while on his phone, ordering takeout for the both of them. He seemed to be a natural at almost everything— except talking, somehow, which didn’t give Geralt much hope for his lyricism. But he flowed through the apartment like water, the lilt of his voice carried through the air like honeysuckle on a breeze.

(If you asked Geralt how Jaskier had managed to stay at his apartment from 1 in the afternoon until 10:30 in the evening, Geralt wouldn’t be able to tell you. It involved some toys for Roach, some terrible storytelling, and a wing deal that seemed like it should be financially devastating for Posada’s. And if you asked him at what point Jaskier had started feeling like, well, maybe one of the better things in his life, he would deny it was so early as a mere few days after they met.

He’d be lying, but he likely wouldn’t quite realize that.)

——

Contracts weren’t especially plentiful in the early spring like they had been in years past, but the ones that did crop up were often fairly big. Such was the one Geralt happened to find on a walk with Roach, a week later on a billboard outside the largest park in the city.

A Griffin’s nest. He could probably relocate them, if he had help. He didn’t like killing monsters when he could avoid it— and griffins weren’t horribly dangerous when left well enough alone. It wasn’t their fault society had branched outwards, into their natural habitats. They shouldn’t have to pay for the mistakes of humans.

Besides, he understood monsters more than people, half the time.

So, he reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, snapped a picture of the flyer. The chat was used so infrequently that he didn’t even bother to scroll for it, he just typed in the names with one hand, the other busy wrapped Roach’s leash. Slowly, the names appeared. ESKEL, LAMBERT, COËN.

He sends the picture with a short message; ‘Anyone in, or am I doing this myself’ before tucking the phone back in his pocket. Geralt had learned years ago to keep his phone on Do Not Disturb when on walks with Roach; it was his quiet time. If he didn’t have his walks with Roach, he would lose his mind. When he arrived back at the building, he checked the phone in the elevator.

24 Messages from GETTING LIT WITH CITY WITCHERS

Coën – Just now

I don’t think that’s how flamethrowers work??

And before he could even open up the messages, another notification popped up as he stepped out of the elevator;

25 Messages from GETTING LIT WITH CITY WITCHERS

Lambert – Just now

Fine ruin my dreams fuck

He smirked and put it away to let himself and Roach into the apartment. A turn of the key and he let go of the leash, Roach pushing the door open and bolting for the couch, rolling all over the orange cushions. Before Geralt stepped in, he heard the sound of music fluttering up from the second floor; this time, Jaskier was writing a new song, getting stuck on different chords and changing his idea on the words every few seconds. The stop and go nature of it should have bothered him, having to hear someone all the way from the second floor should bother him (why did Jaskier insist on having the windows constantly opened??) but instead, he found it… pleasant.

That could not possibly be good.

——

When the four returned back from the contract, they were bruised, had splinters in truly unspeakable places, and were covered in grime. But, four griffin eggs successfully relocated, a mother griffin tolerant of her new home, and a decent paycheck to split amongst the four of them. Roach, dirtiest of all of them, ran into the apartment first and rolled around on the cool tile of the kitchen. At least it wasn’t on the couch, Geralt supposed, as he led in his fellow witchers. His apartment had been the closest when they’d returned to the city, and he’d agreed to let them all crash.

“Geralt holy fuck,” Lambert said, sounding incredulous as he began to shed his armor. “This is ridiculous! I know you saved the landlord, but shirts, did you show him a good time too?! This is unbelievable.”

“Damn, Geralt. You did good,” Eskel agreed with a pat on his younger brother’s back.

“It’s really nice. You could use some… decoration, though,” Coën added. “Just, you know. Anything on the walls. Pictures, posters, something.”

“I just moved in. Do you guys want coffee?”

The three groaned, and Lambert flopped on the couch, sufficiently de-armored. “I want to sleep for a hundred years, Geralt. No I don’t want fucking coffee.”

“Suit yourself,” he said, and put up a pot.

“It’s 11pm,” Coën said blankly. “Do Wolves not sleep? Is this a thing? I thought it was only Cats who didn’t sleep.”

Lambert shifted carefully onto his side. His next words were said almost in rote, as though he’d heard someone else say them a thousand times before. “Cats sleep pretty soundly, they just don’t do it at night. They have better things to do."

Coën shrugged and headed for the bathroom, but Eskel and Geralt sent each other a look. Eskel’s eyes squinted a bit, and they slowly turned to look at Lambert, motionless on the couch. There was a long moment of silence, as they just stared at the youngest wolf.

“Where’d you learn that one, lil Lamb?” Eskel asked carefully. Geralt caught a whiff of anxiety emanating off his younger brother for a moment.

“What? Oh. Uh, yeah, I met a Cat. So what?” He turned to look at his brothers, and he frowned. “Hey! So what?! You have something to say?! I can make friends!”

“You get this defensive about all your friends?”

“Geralt I will throw your couch out the fucking window, I swear to God.”

“What’s your new pal’s name?” Eskel asked. “This buddy of yours. Your chum.”

“I fucking hate you both!” Lambert shouted, and buried his face in a pillow.

With the coffee done, Geralt poured himself a mug and sat down at the kitchen bar, watching Lambert toss around on the couch. Eskel settled into one of Geralt’s only other chairs, and sat back.

“Are you gonna tell us about him?”

“…I need to be fucked up for that,” Lambert muttered. Geralt gave a gesture with his head to Eskel, who rose and opened a cabinet in the closet to reveal two bottles of White Gull. Eskel barked a laugh.

Lambert groaned and let his head fall back against the cushion once more. “Fucking hate you guys. Give me one of those.”

x

This was not the first time the halls were muddy.

Over the past two and a half weeks, the floor of the lobby had often been tracked with mud. She had tried to ignore this. The annoying musician, (her mortal enemy on the second floor), had been particularly stuck on some new song that was both uninspired and going nowhere. She had tried to ignore this, as well. She’d ignored Jane on the fourth floor’s delivery fiasco, and the fact that Eiman from floor 6’s fire alarm had gone off in the middle of some careful brewing she’d been doing. She had even tried to ignore the barks of a large dog from the new tenant in what was supposed to be a strictly no-dog apartment building.

(It wasn’t that she cared about the rules, she couldn’t give a shit about rules. She just hated them being broken when it inconvenienced her.)

What she could not ignore, however, what had pushed her decidedly past her breaking point, was what sounded like a heard of grown men who had trampled through the lobby, made their way up the stairs, undoubtedly coating it with mud, and were now somewhere several floors below her, all the windows thrown open, one of them lamenting about some man who he was infatuated with.

It wasn’t even good gossip. It had stopped being good gossip an hour ago, when he’d become so drunk he’d just started repeating the same things about this man— Adam, or Adrien, or Aiden, or something like that— over and over and over again.

And they were doing all of this past quiet hours. Did she have insulated, noise cancelling windows, yes. Did she herself enjoy a good night in with friends, or even a party, sometimes past quiet hours? Of course. Had she occasionally made a mess in the lobby? Possibly.

But she’d cleaned up, taken responsibility, and not made it everyone else’s problem at 2am on a Wednesday night when she’d very much like to have the windows open for a fucking breeze.

This, Yennefer thought, was not what she paid rent on a Penthouse for.

She groaned, checked her phone, and turned her bedside light on with a wave of her hand. Hadn’t anyone told these poor bastards about the witch who lived in the Penthouse? She stared at the hour again; it was 2:06am. Did she want to deal with this now? Or did she want to save raining down unholy terror for a reasonable hour, and instead capitalize on time differences.

It wasn’t a difficult decision. She pressed a few buttons, and her video chat call began to ring. A few moments later, a smiling but confused looking Anica lit up her phone, adjusting her tortoiseshell glasses.

“Yennefer! It’s lovely to hear from you but… what time is it there?”

She groaned. “2am. Don’t remind me. New neighbors suck. Tell me something fun you’re working on.”

Anica smiled. “Oh, if you want something fun, you’ve come at exactly the right moment. This week Sabrina’s here, and we’re working on a warding charm against fungi in gardens— I figure we could likely scale it up to fields, but I want to have things worked out just right before we move on….”

Yennefer smiled as her friend went on, and tried not to wince every time she heard a faint wail come from several floors beneath her.

x

“And— he sucks. Like, he’s fucking. Sly, and cocky and shit. Where does he get off being all—” 3 hours after he had begun, the deeply drunken Lambert was still talking, gesturing wildly in front of them. “—You know?! It’s no v’y thoughtful.” He drifted into silence once more, while Coën, Eskel, and Geralt just nodded. Most of what that had gathered was that Lambert’s overwhelming crush on this mysterious Cat Witcher, Aiden, had hit him like a truck a year or so back and he still hadn’t made a move. Which meant he was serious about this one.

Coën opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again. There wasn’t much to say— Lambert was a goner. He hadn’t quite fallen asleep yet, so far as Geralt could tell from the rise and fall of his chest, but he was getting there. Eskel slowly began to stand up and collect the empty bottle of White Gull they’d finished. Suddenly, Lambert’s eyes flew open, and he careened forward, arms waving wildly. “AND HIS HAIR?! I fucking hate him! He’s awful. He’s so fucking hot and I hate everything. He sucks. How do I get him to sleep with me?!”

Eskel sat down again with a sigh.

x

“Wait. Geralt, you went on a contract without me?! After I specifically asked to go?! Geralt!” Jaskier huffed, his tub of sesame chicken nearly spilling. The nature documentary in front of them hummed along, though neither payed it much mind. They never did, really.

“Griffin nests are too dangerous,” Geralt said around a bite of noodles. Jaskier’s presence in his life could be described with many negative adjectives, but he had to admit, he was better fed when the musician was around. “Besides, that was two weeks ago now. You’re behind.”

“All the more offensive that I’m just hearing about it now!”

Geralt rolled his eyes. “You going to come watch me deal with these Wyverns, or not?” He might as well just let Jaskier tag along for something small. Maybe he wouldn’t be a disaster, and then he’d stop pestering Geralt for stories he didn’t want to tell, much less be broadcast to the entire world. Unfortunately, he was beginning to admit to himself that he rather enjoyed Jaskier’s company, but that was all the more reason to cut him out of his life, wasn’t it? He was too big of a liability.

Jaskier had started helping to brighten up Geralt’s apartment, both figuratively and literally. There were now some framed pictures on the wall, as well bright takeout menus (“At least it’s something, Geralt, you need color in your life!”) and even a plant hanging by the window, which was thankfully fake. When Jaskier was around, everything seemed to fit well enough.

When he wasn’t though, the living room was discordant, this wall decor was now big and bold in places and nothing matched, and very few things were things he’d pick out himself. When he saw it in the mornings, he often sighed and shook his head, and tried not to think about it too much, or who had put it there.

He tried really quite hard not to think about Jaskier very much at all, but he was over nearly every day now. It was hard not to.

If Geralt had also finally bought himself a sturdy bedframe, bedside tables, and good sheets for himself, well, that had nothing to do with Jaskier at all. It’s not like Jaskier would ever see it, after all.

“Fine,” Jaskier replied after some internal debate, “But I want to see griffins, someday.”

“Mmm. Look them up, if you’re so keen on seeing one.”

“It’s not the same! Do you think it’s the same?! Ugh.”

“So, you’re coming?”

“Of course I’m coming! What sort of question is that? When do we leave? What should I bring? Ooo, what do I wear?!”

Geralt sighed deeply. “Don’t wear anything baggy, or bright, or anything that will make much sound. Don’t bring anything. Your phone, but only for if you get lost. Do NOT get lost. We leave here tomorrow at 5am.”

Jaskier choked on a piece of chicken. “Five a— Geralt, we cannot possibly leave here at 5am. Why! God, the things I do for music. How non-vibrant do my clothes have to be? Does a sort of forest-y green work? Do I have to wear camouflage? Please say no. You’re already severely limiting my wardrobe options, please don’t also make me commit fashion crimes.”

“Jaskier, you’re not going anywhere where you have to… impress people. You’re watching me catch, tag, and release a wyvern outside the city. That’s it.”

“I think the Wyverns deserve a good outfit! Besides, this is my first hunt! Our first big outing! I want to mark the occasion, but you and your rules prevent me. Frankly, I’m hurt.”

“Would you rather get eaten?”

“At least I’d leave a handsome corpse!” Geralt chuckled, and took a swig of beer as Jaskier swallowed thickly and continued. “But, ah, no, I’d really prefer to avoid death and injury as much as possible. Really. Truly. Not a masochist. Which surprises some people, weirdly. Do I give off a vibe? Geralt, do I give off vibes? I don’t give off any vibes, right?”

The biggest benefit of having Jaskier around, Geralt found, was that he could tease to his heart’s content, and Jaskier wouldn’t realize until Geralt had gotten a good laugh out of it.

Geralt nodded. “I can see that. There are definitely vibes.”

Jaskier gaped, and then stuttered in response. “I—you—no! That’s—there is no way—how—and what do—what’s—abs—there—I—you—that is not—!”

If Geralt could fight off his smirk a little longer, he’d get to watch Jaskier fumble for at least another minute… and it would take his mind off of trying not to picture Jaskier on his bed, pale skin and dark chest hair fully revealed, arching his back while Geralt indulged him in some fictional, masochistic tendencies. No, couldn’t think about that. Not realistic, anyway.

And then the image flipped, now with Jaskier above him, gazing down lovingly, raking his nails against Geralt’s exposed chest…

“I—the—Geralt! I thought we were friends!!”

Geralt shook it off. Not realistic.

——

The contract was supposed to be for the removal of a particularly pesky wyvern, who’d made a habit of sleeping on the top of a high rise on the other side of town, occasionally swooping down on unsuspecting residents on their balconies. Recently, it’d nabbed a little girl’s doll, which shouldn’t have tugged on his heartstrings, but after Ciri had come into his life, all bets were off. So, a nasty wyvern, somewhere it shouldn’t, who needed to be returned to a suitable habitat and tagged for tracking purposes. It had happened before, there was nothing suspicious about the contract.

Unfortunately, things were rarely so cut and dry in Geralt’s world.

It was 7 o’clock before Geralt and Jaskier finally dragged themselves back to their building; muddy, grimy and tracking it all through the lobby. Geralt’s chest was somehow still sore from being thwacked by a steel baseball bat. The contract had been a sham, and he and Jaskier had been… detained, Geralt would say, kidnapped being too strong a word, by some idiots who wanted to prove they could best a witcher. He’d hoped they’d mostly left violent displays of superiority back a few decades ago, but humans never failed to live up to the worst of themselves, he thought bitterly.

If they woke up from their concussions, hanging upside down from some pipes in the basement they’d chosen for their assault, Geralt was fairly sure they wouldn’t bother with witchers again.

“So, this was a less dangerous one, mm?” Jaskier asked groggily as they piled into the elevator. “Wanna come to mine? I feel like I’m five minutes from sleep.”

Geralt shrugged. He hadn’t actually seen Jaskier’s apartment. Not that he wanted to, of course. Jaskier mashed his finger into the button for the second floor, swaying on his feet. He slumped against one of the walls and let his eyes fall closed, and Geralt found it hard not to stare. His dark green shirt was ripped, exposing some pale skin and shallow cuts and bruises he’d received. His pants were filthy, and his face was still covered in grime, while bits of his hair stuck out at odd angles. Small prices to pay for making it out alive.

In fact, Jaskier had put up much more of a fight than he’d been expecting. He wasn’t a trained fighter by any means but he’d made himself more than useful. Geralt might not have made it out without his quick thinking—a phone flashlight to the eyes of their assailants, a kick to the back of the knee of another, biting the wrist of a third when it shot past his face, as he had lunged for Geralt. Jaskier had been damn near feral. Adrenaline, Geralt supposed. Hell of a drug.

Witchers felt adrenaline too, though it was different. Similar enough, though, that he was sure his overwhelming fear of seeing Jaskier hurt, how he’d screamed at their captors to let Jaskier go, how he’d been a second away from ending them in retaliation before he’d realized how far he’d gone, yes, he was sure that all of that was nothing more than adrenaline. Even if it had only kicked in when he realized Jaskier was in danger, rather than just himself, rather than when they’d spat obscenities at him. It had been when Jaskier had spat at them, called them bastards, and earned a kick in the stomach for it.

The elevator was silent as the doors slid shut.

“Do people always look at you like that?”

“You mean with a dagger in their hands?”

Jaskier frowned, chin still tipped toward the sky, arms folded close to his chest, eye lazily shut.

“No. I figure you wouldn’t have brought me, if that happened very often. But they were so…” he shook his head. “They were fucking hateful. They were monsters.”

Geralt huffed a laugh. “Monsters chasing a monster.”

“No, you’re not. Hey. Geralt. No, you’re not.” Jaskier had opened his eyes and waited Geralt to meet them. The witcher looked away as the doors slid open. “You’re not a fucking monster, I don’t care what they say. I know you by now.”

“Just open the door.”

Jaskier sighed and shuffled over to his door, opening it after a bit of a fumble with the keys.

The layout of his apartment was different, Geralt noticed—the front door let out into the living room, not the kitchen, and his bathroom was on the left, not the right. It seemed like there was only one bedroom, and his main window looked out over the cityscape. But it was, predictably, the décor that stood out the most.

Jaskier had lined his ceiling molding with little lights, and as they entered, they flicked on, drifting smoothly between all colors of the rainbow. The place itself was messy, notebooks strewn about everywhere, cords coming out of various outlets without rhyme or reason, cups and plates scattered about. Geralt spotted what he thought might have been pants in one corner, but he chose not to look so hard. Jaskier flicked on the light switch, and Geralt could see how bright and colorful Jaskier had made his home—it worked somehow, though it seemed as though if a single piece were removed it would look wrong, somehow.

His instruments all looked remarkably well-kept, though. They hung on the wall in specialized mounts; two guitars, a violin, some other string instruments Geralt didn’t recognize. There was a small black case maybe holding a wind instrument sitting next to a rather impressive-looking keyboard, and the table where they sat was the only tidy area in the apartment, so far as he could see. Of course, he hadn’t seen Jaskier’s bedroom. Yet. Not that he would want to, of course. Or ever have cause to.

Jaskier plopped down on a vibrant green velvet chair and waved one hand at the room, the other covering his eyes. “Sorry for the mess. You can sit anywhere. Oh, wait, there’s cider in the fridge, would you mind? Second shelf. And don’t laugh at me for drinking cider.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I know it’s too sweet. I get it. But if you drink beer or wine every night it gets boring. And if I ever grew bored of alcohol, I’d be devastated.”

“Won’t disagree with you,” Geralt muttered as he returned to the living room with a 6-pack. He sat down on the couch and opened the bottles, handing one to Jaskier. They drank in silence, and Geralt tried to get comfortable on the overly plush blue couch.

“Sorry you got dragged in—”

“No, no, stop that. I asked to come. Specifically. You had no way of knowing. Besides, I’d rather be with you to deal with that, instead of you… oh, disappearing to your apartment for days and not answering me.”

Mm. He’d done that, once or twice. Maybe three times. “Sorry.”

“Geralt. It’s fine. It’s their fault. You did nothing wrong, you were just trying to help.”

“Mm.”

They drank in silence for a bit. The cider was, in fact, too sweet, but it suited Jaskier. Geralt find he didn’t mind it much as he should have. He tried not to think of kissing it off his lips.

Jaskier gave a snort in the silence. Geralt looked over and raised an eyebrow.

“Sorry, it’s just—got any other enemies I should know about?”

Geralt smiled and leaned back. “Mm. A few. Lot of humans.”

“Right, just, in general. Alright, so just ‘most humans’, got it. Next?”

“Monsters. Don’t know why, they just don’t like me.”

Jaskier laughed. “How unfair of them! They ought to give you a chance. Anyone else?”

“Mmm… some other witchers. None from my school, though. Definitely some mages.”

“Oh, fuck mages,” Jaskier said.

“Don’t fuck mages,” Geralt teased, “It won’t end well.”

“Ugh. Trust me, I know.”

Geralt raised his eyebrows until Jaskier looked at him and groaned. “Don’t look at me like that. I’ve only done it a few times, and I’ve sworn off them.” He finished his cider and reached for another.

“Do you have any enemies I should know about, Jaskier?”

“Valdo fucking Marx,” Jaskier spat immediately, kicking his legs up on the table. “Garbage. Absolute garbage. Stole my work at Oxenfurt. Deeply fucked up man. I want him dead. Not in a, ‘I’d hire someone to kill him’ way, but in a, ‘if he died in an untimely and horrific way tomorrow, I would spend the weekend celebrating’ way. Shouldn’t say untimely. His death will absolutely timely, whenever it comes. Really, maybe untimely because it’ll be late. Hmph.”

Geralt nodded, kicking his feet up as well. “Anyone else?”

“Mmm, no. Oh! Well, Penthouse Lady, or as I like to call her, The Bitch of the 13th Floor. She’s a mage, you know.”

Geralt stared at Jaskier. “Oh, no, no, don’t think like that. That is decidedly not one of the mages I was speaking about. No, Penthouse Lady is just… I mean, gorgeous, but evil. Extremely, wickedly beautiful, which should be a crime. She will take your clothes out of the washing machine, wet, just because you’ve left them there a bit too long. A minute. 35 seconds, minutes, whatever, really. And if you break one of the building rules and catch her in a bad mood, she will eviscerate you. She’s made people move out before, out of pure terror.”

“But not you?”

“No! No, I’m not leaving. She’s can’t make me. We’ve been mortal enemies for years now, that’s a commitment.”

Geralt laughed. “How do you afford to live here, anyway? You haven’t got a job.”

“Geralt,” Jaskier said, lowering his cider with a smile, “How dare you. You have no idea. I could be employed. I could have several jobs, you don’t know.”

“Jaskier, I met you at 3pm on a Monday. You come over at all hours of the day. You are rarely doing anything one could describe as ‘work’.”

“Alright, alright, I get it. It’s a… parents thing. And grandparents. Whole family, really. Ever been to Lettenhove?” Geralt thought a bit, and then nodded—it had been awhile. “Yep. That’s us. Earls and whatnot. Technically, I’m a viscount, but I prefer the title ‘Family Disappointment’. More accurate.”

Geralt pushed Jaskier’s foot with his own. “Stop that.”

“No, it’s not—it’s not a bad thing, to disappoint those people. You know? If I’m disappointing them, I’m doing something right. Besides, they keep throwing money at me in hopes that it’ll change something. Which, you know. I’ll take it.” They sat quietly for a moment. “I have been published, to be fair. And I do go out to sing at bars on Thursdays and Saturdays. I have some followers on Spotify, TikTok and what have you. I’m not nothing. It’s just not up to their standards. ‘S why I have a pen name in the first place.”

“Jaskier?” Geralt asked, and his friend nodded. “It’s a good name.”

“Why thank you.” There was quiet for a moment. “You know what they named me? Julian Alfred Pankratz. What a name. That’s the thing, with them, and their traditions—I’ve got two other people’s names, and none of my own. ‘S why I picked one for myself.”

“Mm,” Geralt said softly. Jaskier hadn’t ever said much about himself, now that he thought of it. Might as well take the plunge. “Don’t know what my surname was. Just have Geralt. Witchers are left to their schools and made to pick their own names. Picked Rivia out of a hat, essentially.”

Jaskier looked at him oddly, before raising his bottle. “To families that don’t know what they’re missing,” he said softly, and Geralt clinked their bottles together, the sound short and sweet.

——

A few hours and ciders later, Jaskier had slipped asleep, chest rising and falling gently. It hadn’t been a hard call for Geralt to make; he’d slipped Jaskier’s shoes off and carried him to his bedroom, laying him down on the bed, maneuvering him under the sheets. The bedroom was subtler than his living room—a cream color, beautiful loose paintings and sketches on the walls of flowers, hung up with tape, and dozens of pictures; some framed, some loose polaroids hanging on strings, all of friends and places he must have travelled. His oval mirror had sticky notes around the edges—what looked like scraps of songs, chord progressions, passwords, dates to remember, and a small note of encouragement to himself— ‘Keep Going!!’

Geralt smiled, found an unused sticky note, and grabbed a pen. When he was done, he smiled to himself, and put it just below the ‘Keep Going’ note.

After leaving a glass of water on his bedside table, Geralt slipped out of Jaskier’s apartment taking the elevator up. When the doors slid closed, he took out his phone.

4 Messages from CITY WITCHERS GETTING LAMBERT A DATE (ES….)

Lambert – 48 minutes ago

God, this shit should NOT be so hard.

To: CITY WITCHERS GETTING LAMBERT A DATE (ESKEL, LAMBERT, COËN)

Message: yeah, I feel you

He slipped it away, and hoped nobody would question it in the morning.

x

Yennefer stretched, sun hitting her eyes, and sucked in a lungful of the breeze coming through the window. It was… nice. Pleasant.

Boring.

She took out her phone.

To: Aretuza Takes Novigrad

Message: Who wants to go clubbing this weekend. I’m bored. Also Sabrina I know you’re 200 miles away w Anica don’t be snarky

She rose and began to stretch, sparing only a glance when her phone dinged.

Aretuza Takes Novigrad

Sabrina – Just Now

Sure count me in. I’d love that. Woohoo

She rolled her eyes and smiled, ignoring that her friend should absolutely still be asleep, given the time difference.

Aretuza Takes Novigrad

Coral Lytta– Just Now

I’m down for a barhop at least but only if we’re coordinating outfits I’m begging you I don’t want a repeat of last month!!

Yennefer finished her stretches and flicked her hand to start the coffee pot in the kitchen. She needed a change of pace. Things had gotten too predictable. Maybe she’d take someone home, that would be fun. She checked her phone again.

Aretuza Takes Novigrad

Fringilla – 7 minutes ago

Why is anyone awake??? Go back to sleep

To: Aretuza Takes Novigrad

Message: Frin it’s 7am. This is a normal hour.

Aretuza Takes Novigrad

Fringilla – Just Now

Not on my day off it’s not

She sighed. Okay, maybe they wouldn’t end up clubbing, not given everyone’s moods this week. But at least she’d get out of the apartment, and maybe get someone else into bed.

x

9:37am

Thursday, March 12th

2 Messages from Jaskier

Just now

Oh, and the note, I’m just seeing this now. “Reminder: Don’t Fuck Mages.” Thanks, Geralt, what would I do without you? My witcher in… slightly muddy armor, last I checked. ;)

7 Messages from CITY WITCHERS GETTING LAMBERT A DATE

Eskel – 19 minutes ago

“YEAH I FEEL YOU??” GERALT????? (sent with Echo)

NEWS

New Novigrad Times – 2 hours ago

Three men suspected of breaking and entering, larceny, and assault found suspended upside-down in a residential downtown building. This story is will be updated as new information is revealed.

14 more notifications

x

The next afternoon, he heard it while on a walk with Roach, and tried to brush it off. A voice sounding suspiciously like Jaskier’s was emanating from some teenager’s cell phone. “Oh Valley of Plenty, Oh-” the voice sang, before he tuned it out. It was deeply unlikely it was Jaskier. Something in seeing him asleep a few nights before must have poisoned Geralt’s brain.

He heard snatches of it, though, everywhere he went.

Toss a—

They came after me , with masterful—

Brings you to mourn—

That’s my epic tale—

It drove him mad, but he shook it off every time. What was the likelihood of it being Jaskier, anyway?

It’s in the lobby, where he realized. The doorman, Sonny, was swiping through his phone as Geralt checked his mailbox. When he turned back around—

With Geralt of Rivia, along came this song…

Geralt grimaced. “Fuck.”

When he returned to his apartment, he found a sticky note waiting on the door for him.

If you track mud into this building one more

time, I will make you kneel and fix it yourself.

All the best, ~Penthouse.

x

Aretuza Takes Novigrad

Coral Lytta – 17 minutes ago

Yen! Isn’t this your ~enemy~??? That guy from the second floor who takes like 3 hours with laundry?? http://vm.tiktok…

——

Jaskier -- 15 minutes ago

So. I may have gone viral,

——

To: Aretuza Takes Novigrad

Message: How the hell does this have 700 thousand likes already? It was only posted today

——

Jaskier -- 5 minutes ago

This is a good thing though, right??? Is this the wrong time to invite you to see me perform tomorrow night

Ciri -- Just Now

Hey uh??? Dad??? I think someone wrote a song about you???

——

Anica -- Just Now

Yennefer, I am so so sorry, but I already have it stuck in my head. I’ve only watched it twice now I swear

——

8 Messages from CITY WITCHERS GETTING LAMBERT (AND GERALT) DATES

Lambert – 1 minute ago

Literally how the fuck does this happen to you

Jaskier -- Just Now

Hey that rhymed!!

x

Jaskier had told him not to stress about what to wear, that he could just ‘sit in the corner and brood’ and that ‘nobody would recognize him’, but nothing about this felt like a good idea to Geralt. Is this what having friends was? Going to places he didn’t want to be, at times he didn’t want to be there, just to make someone else happy? It was terrible, and frankly, he wanted a refund.

Geralt slipped into the bar a few hours before Jaskier was slated to go on—just to get a booth decently near the stage where nobody would bother him. He didn’t care about seeing Jaskier warm up. He was on stage, tuning his instrument that wasn’t quite a guitar—either a mandolin or a lute, Geralt thought. He was listening for something, adjusting things, getting a feel of the space. His brows were furrowed and he looked to be deep in thought. Not wanting to bother him, Geralt bought whatever was on tap (some earthy beer he would tolerate for the evening) and slipped into a booth near the stage, far enough out of the light so that he wouldn’t be noticed easily by people.

He sat, watching Jaskier, letting his eyes wander down his teal and red ensemble. The pants were a tight fit, but the shirt was airy, unbuttoned a bit more than might be decent, and Geralt found himself mentally unbuttoning more, and more, and more, until his eyes flashed up and made contact with Jaskier’s.

The musician lit up like the sun, a wide beaming smile, and he quickly hopped down from the stage. “Geralt! You made it! And early, too! Oh, I’m so glad. Okay, I’m 3rd up, so you will have to sit through some other people, but not too many. I’ll join you when I’m done! You’ll enjoy it. Well, I don’t think you’ll love it, but you’ll probably tolerate it for your dear dear friend, who is slowly but surely making you famous. Right? Okay!”

“You’ll be fine,” Geralt said. He knew Jaskier’s nervous energy speeches by now.

“What? Oh.” Some tension in Jaskier’s shoulders loosened. “Thank you. I just haven’t been on a stage since suddenly so many people know my face. I did post about this, but I don’t think very many people will come. Maybe I shouldn’t have? I dunno. Still navigating fame! Alright, I should get back. I’ll see you soon!”

x

“I’m making an executive decision,” Fringilla said, turning on her heel. They’d been walking for 45 minutes, trying to decide on a bar. “We’re going here. We are too damn old to be spending half the night walking around.”

“Fine,” Yennefer relented, taking Coral’s arm, “but if it sucks we’re going out again tomorrow and it’s my pick.”

The three entered the bar, a dimly lit place, mostly wooden and already fairly active with people bustling about, a stage in the back looking ready for a musician.

“Oh, I love live music, yes! You get us a table near the stage and I’ll get the drinks,” Coral said; “Dry Martini and a Whiskey Sour?”

“You know us so well,” Fringilla said, and she and Yennefer left to find a table. They ended up at a booth egregiously close to the stage, in Yennefer’s opinion. They got comfortable, settling in for the night, most likely. Until one of them found someone to go home with, at least.

When Yennefer looked up, it was to a tidal wave of people entering.

It wasn’t to say the place wasn’t busy before, but soon she could barely see the bar, as giddy looking patrons took up tables and booths, and eventually, just whatever standing room they could find. Coral managed to cut through the crowd, levitating the three drinks, looking frazzled. “When did all these people get here?!”

“No idea,” Fringilla said, reaching for her Whiskey Sour, “but I’m glad we’ll at least be able to see.”

“Mm,” Yennefer agreed, grabbing her Martini, raking her eyes over the crown. Options, she thought. It was always so good to have options.

“Any idea who’s performing tonight?” Coral asked. “I couldn’t find a poster or anything that said—probably someone good, for all these people to be here”

“No idea,” Yennefer replied absentmindedly. It’s not like it mattered. She couldn’t imagine herself giving much of a shit about who was on stage, anyway.

x

The first performer was fine. Geralt thought they were a little boring, but they weren’t who he was there to see, anyway. Yennefer couldn’t be bothered, staring instead at a handsome young woman in a low-cut satin dress. When she finally made eye contact, though, she gave a friendly, decidedly not flirtatious smile, and Yennefer moved on.

The second performer, a kind of musical comedian, was pretty good. She capitalized off of the energy in the room, which Geralt had to admit was palpable. As soon as people had flooded in, he’d made a point to look intimidating—much as it had prevented people from sitting at his booth, it hadn’t stopped them from buzzing around the bar, and he realized they must be there for Jaskier. It put a pit in his stomach, but also made something in his chest whizz around in joy. Ah, fuck.

And then, up was Jaskier. The announcer welcomed him on stage, and Jaskier bounced on, to the warmest welcome thus far.

“Gooooood evening everyone, lovely to see you all. And I do mean all. How many people are here? There are at least…” he counted for a moment. “At least 12. Possibly more.” He got a laugh, and winked at someone in the middle of the audience as he sat down on a stool in front of the mic.

“I cannot fucking believe this,” Yennefer groaned quietly. Fringilla patted her on the back. “There, there. Maybe he’ll be terrible.”

Jaskier hummed softly, warming up his voice. No, Yennefer though, he wouldn’t be terrible, because unfortunately, he was quite fucking good.

His first song was another one that had also blown up after his sudden viral-ness of the past week, an original he’d told Geralt he’d written in university, and never stopped being proud of. Geralt smiled into his second drink of the night, enjoying watching Jaskier get comfortable on the stage.

His second song finished to applause and cheers, and Jaskier got up to bow, pushing the stool far behind him with his foot. Yennefer put a fist in her hair. Unfortunately, her mortal enemy was fucking magnetic.

“Freak him out, like you said you do,” Coral whispered to her. Yennefer frowned, but nodded soon after. At least she could make this fun for herself.

Jaskier grabbed the mic and moved it off to the side of the stage, throwing some smiles to people who had their phone out, before stopping and speaking into it when the crowd had quieted a bit.

“Hey,” Jaskier said gently, his voice commanding the bar, as he looked out into the crowd. He found Geralt’s face, and beamed at him, before turning back to the sea of people. “Is uh… is anyone here on TikTok?” The crowd cheered and he launched into Toss a Coin, forgoing the stool entirely, choosing to dance around the stage.

To Geralt’s complete mortification, at the top of the first chorus Jaskier suddenly pointed to him. “Toss a coin to your witcher, Oh valley of plenty, oh!”

By the third chorus, Geralt had been sufficiently pummeled with coins, bills, and what looked like a gift card to a café, when Jaskier tipped back his head to the other side of the stage. Yennefer was sitting back, arms folded, a single eyebrow raised, flanked by Fringilla and Coral on either side, looking expectant of the musician, mimicking their friend’s pose. Yennefer thought she was fighting off her smirk, but it was hard to say. Her eyes met his, and for a brief, brief moment his smile faltered, before he let out a cackle, continuing to play. The audience ate out of his hand, and he seemed to grow more and more at ease, preening at the attention.

“It was worth a shot,” Fringilla said with a huff of laughter and a shake of her head, returning to her glass. “He’s really got something, hate to admit.”

When the song finished, he took a deep bow to riotous applause and caught a coin someone threw to him, tucking it in his pocket.

Behind him, a witcher and a mage made eye contact for the first time; gold met violet, and the air between them seemed to electrify.

“I think we’re on our own for tonight, Coral,” Fringilla said with eyebrows raised, watching her friend stare across the room, and Coral giggled in response. Yennefer made a point to use a fraction of her chaos to stir her martini from afar, so this man knew what he might be getting into.

“Thank you, thank you all. I think we have time for one more quick song. And I do hope you’ll give our next artist after the break the same amount of attention, as a personal favor to me,” Jaskier said, getting some laughs, and tuned his instrument for a moment before speaking again. “You’ve been a dream. Really, truly, thank you. I fully expect this kind of turn out every week, though, so cancel all your other Saturday night plans for the next, oh, 7 to 8 years.”

A smattering of laughter again from the audience, and then Jaskier was starting Fishmonger's Daughter, a song Geralt had deemed dirty enough to ignore the lyrics of. He looked away from the woman, clearly a mage, across the stage from him—she was gorgeous, long black hair and bright violet eyes. She was flanked by two other women in similar deep velvet dresses—the first a rosy pink, the third a midnight blue, while the woman’s he’d locked eyes with was pitch black, matching a choker around her neck. She tilted her head to expose more soft tan skin, examining him from afar as she stirred her drink with magic, graceful and languid.

Do not fuck mages. Do not fuck mages. Do not fuck mages.

He sat back in his chair, and suddenly realized that Jaskier’s set had ended; his friend was bowing, and then disappeared off the stage in favor of the announcer. The bar was buzzing, people milling around, and then Jaskier, blue eyes gleaming, cheeks flushed, smile stretched from ear to ear, was sitting in front of him.

“Geralt! Was it good? Give me your thoughts.”

“Not bad,” Geralt said with a smile, and a pat on his friend’s shoulder. Was it too much? He gave it a small squeeze, and something small in Jaskier’s face changed. He looked up and down Geralt’s face, and suddenly the witcher realized how close they were, that Jaskier was licking his lips, that he hadn’t taken his hand off his shoulder, that the world had disappeared around them. His gaze dropped for a moment to Jaskier’s lips. He could smell arousal, and excitement, and happiness, but he was in a bar, there was too much to take in, no way to know for sure it was coming from Jaskier. He held his breath, and met Jaskier’s eyes again.

His phone rang.

They kept staring.

Another ring, and someone tapped on Jaskier’s shoulder.

“I should—you get that, Geralt, I’ll be a moment, just ah, have to say hello to the adoring public, I’ll be back!”

Geralt let his witcher-slow heartbeat a few more times, dazed, before looking down at his phone to see Lambert was calling. He answered, putting a finger in his other ear.

“Geralt!” Lambert hissed. Geralt could barely hear him over the noise of the bar. “Geralt! Have you seen the group chat?!”

“No. Speak louder, I can barely hear you.”

“I can’t! He’s in my apartment, Geralt! What the fuck do I do! He brought booze! He looks fucking fancy!”

Geralt frowned. “Are you on a date?”

“Not that I’m fucking aware of!”

Geralt frowned deeper. “It sounds like you’re on a date.”

“We can’t be on a date! He just asked if I wanted to do dinner! That’s not a date!”

“It can be. Clearly is. Just—take him out somewhere.”

“Fucking WHERE, Geralt!”

“Don’t you have a sushi place around the corner? Do that. Or somewhere else. Doesn’t matter, just wear something decent and go.”

“How the fuck—” Lambert was asking when Geralt hung up. He looked at his phone screen—98 unread messages from the clowns. He shook his head and looked up—Jaskier was peacocking around the bar, flirting with everyone who seemed receptive. He was a natural, winding his way through the crowd, making them all feel special. Someone was buying him a drink, and it looked like he was already part of the way through another. He delighted over everyone, taking selfies, accepting compliments, giving them in return to appreciative and giddy smiles.

That was how Jaskier was, Geralt thought. With everyone. Little moments didn’t necessarily mean anything.

He turned back to look at the sorceress across from him. Her companions had left her, disappearing into the crowd for more drinks, perhaps. She was playing with something on her table, and glanced up to see him staring. She smirked, picked up the small object, and began to levitate it over to him.

Geralt watched as through the crowd, over the stage, the object floated over to him.

When it finally arrived at his table, Geralt watched as a small coin was dropped neatly in front of him, giving a small clink.

He smirked. It was a parlor trick, and barely that, for a mage. But it was intriguing. She was intriguing. And Jaskier was busy being fawned over by fans, so it’s not as though Geralt would be missed. He stood and waded his way through the masses, towering over many of the other patrons, before finally making it to his destination. He held up the coin.

The woman smiled up at him, sly, and spoke before he did. “No need to thank me, just doing as the song requested. Are you so often followed around by… loyal bards?”

He laughed. He hadn’t heard someone use ‘bard’ in decades. “Not until recently. To who do I owe the pleasure?”

“Whom, I think,” she quipped, and offered her hand. “Yennefer.”

“Geralt,” he said, and she laughed as he sat down across from her.

“Yes, I’ve heard as much. The White Wolf. Quite the title.”

“I didn’t pick it myself, I assure you.”

“You don’t seem to mind it all that much.”

“… I suppose not. Better than some of the other titles I haven’t picked.”

“Do you have many of those?”

“Plenty. Couldn’t tell you what most of them were, though. Hard to hear when you’re dodging enemies.”

She titled her head slightly and sat back to let her gaze drag over him. “So, none from lovers, then?”

He smiled again. “Cheeky.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Take it however you’d like.”

“You’re not much for flattering yourself, are you, Geralt.”

“That’s what I’ve got my bard for.”

She laughed, a light thing that he knew would be echoing around his chest for days. She leaned back in, looking around conspiratorially. He leaned in a touch as well, their faces only inches from each other now. “Tell me, Geralt. Are you as noble and chivalrous as that song made you out to be?”

“It flatters me. But I do my best for… those in need.”

“And if I were in need, you would do something for me?”

“I might be able to do that.”

“Well then.” She leaned in to whisper in his ear. “I would be entirely grateful, Geralt… if you get me some apple juice.” He leaned back in confusion, while she pressed the coin he still held further into his hand. “This should cover it.”

When he leaned away, she wore an unmistakably coquettish smile, biting back a laugh. He smiled despite himself, brows furrowed as he looked down at the coin, and back at her, before letting out a small laugh himself.

“Alright. One apple juice, fair mage. I will do my best.”

“Take care on your dangerous voyage!” She called after him, as he slipped into the crowd. She whipped out her phone; the break would be lasting another 15 or so minutes, just enough to play a game on her phone. Whether or not Geralt made it back to his table in time for the next set was none of her concern. Besides, he’d somehow befriended her most recent mortal enemy, so anything that happened tonight would have to be a one-time thing. If anything happened, of course, but Yennefer was not in the habit of letting a good time pass her by.

Things were perfectly right in her world, as she waited for her phone to load, until suddenly someone dressed in frankly garish teal and red was standing before her. She didn’t look up from her phone.

“Ahem?”

She continued looking at her phone. The damn thing wouldn’t load.

“You know, it’s very rude to keep your most reviled enemy waiting.”

It still wouldn’t fucking load. She groaned and put it down. “What do you want, Jaskier?” Her neighbor, grinning widely and holding two glasses of punchy looking drinks, sat down across from her. “No one else hesitated to applaud my wonderful performance except… for you. Come on. You must have some review for me. Three words or less.”

She raised an eyebrow and looked at him for a moment. “I don’t buy it.”

He frowned. “No, that’s four. What don’t you buy?”

“The song. You expect me to believe you willingly put yourself within 10 miles of danger? You already complain that the second floor is too dangerous for you.”

“It is dangerous, and I sleep there, so it’s different. Really, it did happen, you could ask Geralt. Actually, gods, no, don’t ask Geralt. Don’t talk to him, actually. You’d hate each other, definitely, best stay away.”

“Oh dear. Someone’s already jealous.”

“I am not—!” he squeaked, before leaning in. “I am not jealous, I just don’t need you and your…” he waved a hand at her, “your face-ness scaring him off!”

“My face?”

“Yes! It’s full of… secrets. And… plots. Evil plots!”

“Right. Do you know what your face is full of?”

“Charm? Charisma? An air of mystery?”

She swiftly grabbed one of his drinks and splashed it in his face, while he gaped. She swiped a finger across his cheek and tasted it. “Mmm, no… something fruity. Strawberry?”

“Raspberry,” he corrected. His face dripped. “I had that coming, a bit.”

“Oh, absolutely.” She waved a hand, and the drink was gone—his face, shirt, the table all now dry. “Don’t take that as a kindness. I just don’t want to pay for your dry cleaning.”

“Of course,” he replied, touching his now dry face. “And I don’t want any more battles with you in the laundry genre, if I can help it.” Despite herself, she laughed.

“Ah, I see there is a brain behind those blue eyes after all.”

“You just like seeing me covered in liquid and at your mercy.”

“Maybe,” she admitted.

He sat back in the booth. “You know, if you weren’t utterly terrifying, I could write songs about you as well. I’m sure you’ve got stories. We could make some together.”

“I am the story.”

“See, that’s good! Have you considered abandoning magic and the position of ‘very sexy, very scary witch’, and instead working towards of ‘very sexy, very charming poet’? At least then we’d be competitors in the same field. Same playing ground! Same weapons, which is to say, absolutely no weapons.”

“Mm. And have you considered abandoning your current title of ‘unfortunately charming, unfortunately talented, deeply annoying musician’ and opting instead for ‘very quiet, mildly charming eye candy’? It would suit you more.”

“The day I stop talking is the day I run out of breath.”

“I look forward to it.”

“Dear Ms. Penthouse, I’m sure you’ll be the one to bring it about.”

“Wouldn’t you love to be so lucky. Besides, haven’t you got a wolf in shining armor to protect you?” Just then, a sound went over the loudspeakers. 5 minutes until the end of the break, then.

“Well, much as I’d love to continue this lovely and for me, a frankly sexually confusing chat, I must grab my drinks before our next musicians are on.”

“Take care, then. I’d hate to see you die without getting to be a part of it,” she said, giving him a pat on the arm, her hand lingering as he looked at her for a moment, licking his lips and then hurrying off.

It was only moments before Geralt returned.

“One apple juice,” he said, setting a tall glass in front of her with a straw. Yennefer smiled and pulled it closer to her, taking a sip. “Is it to your liking, fair mage?”

It was quite good, actually. “Acceptable. Thank you, dear witcher, for your services.”

“Any others you’d like to request of me?”

“Mmm… give me the evening to think of one.”

“I can’t promise I’ll be here forever.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m sure I’ll think of something. You just go… sit in the corner and brood.”

He laughed. “You’re not the first one to say that to me tonight.”

“Mm, so you’re completing quests for others? Should I be worried?” She snuck a glance toward the crowd, and Geralt followed her eyes to land on Jaskier, fliting between people, drinking something that this time looked icy and blue. “Just a friend, I hope?”

Geralt turned to look back at her. His face had too many things subtly happening for her to read it well, and after only a moment Fringilla and Coral had returned, beginning to slip into the booth.

“Will you be joining us?” Fringilla asked, but Geralt shook his head.

“I’ve been told to go brood,” he replied, and made his way back to his booth.

——

Geralt did, in his defense, make an attempt to listen to the other performers. Jaskier spent the evening continuing to flirt around the room, hands lingering on him, his own hands gently caressing shoulders and arms. Geralt could tell already he’d be going home alone that night. Well, not alone. Yennefer and he had been sharing glances as the night progressed, and he was fairly certain he knew where that was heading.

He just wouldn’t be going home with Jaskier, who would himself undoubtedly be going home with some fan or other patron. He had his pick of the room, for the most part. Which was good. Geralt knew he sought the praise, the fame. Besides, Jaskier and he had only planned to spend the late night catching up on their weekly nature documentary.

Another man paid for Jaskier’s next drink, a fizzy concoction, and Geralt felt himself give the tiniest hint of a growl.

Eventually, Yennefer’s companions slipped out, and he returned to her booth.

“Do you have a quest for me, then?”

“Mmm. How about, protect me here, until it’s time to leave, and then walk me back to my apartment?”

Geralt nodded. “That, I can do.”

The night pushed onward. After a few performers more, Geralt looked around in between sets and realized he’d lost track of Jaskier entirely. It would be unlike him to not give a heads-up before going home with somebody. Geralt frowned and checked his phone. A few dozen messages from Eskel and Coën, and; one missed call from Jaskier. Shit. He took a deep breath—he could smell his friend in the air, but not quite which direction it came from, not with so many people. Yennefer gave him a look.

“What’s wrong?”

“Missed a call. Hold on.” He pressed the redial and held it to his ear. It rang three times before it picked up. “Jaskier?”

“Mmm. Ger. Ger’lt. Do you wanna go home? With me.”

“You want me to take you home?” He shot an apologetic look at Yennefer.

“Come home with me.”

“Okay, Jaskier. Where are you?”

“Outside.”

“Alright. Be there soon.” Geralt hung up and began to slide out of the booth. “Sorry. He’s had a big night.”

“I could tag along,” Yennefer offered. “And then you’ll have doubly earned your rewards tonight.”

“I—sure, sure,” and they were off, navigating around the bar and out the door. “He doesn’t live that far away,” Geralt began to explain.

“Oh, I know.” Geralt shot her a questioning look as they exited the front door.

——

Jaskier was right there, leaning against the wall. His head ached—he’d had possibly more to drink in this night than he had for the past two weeks combined. It had all caught up with him, and he’d found himself outside, taking deep breaths of fresh air, clutching his lute bag to his chest.

He’d flirted around all night, but nothing, nobody had been worth his time. How was he supposed to focus on anyone when Geralt was right there? Not that he was interested, of course. But he’d come out, he’d come early, just to see Jaskier perform. Well, to be fair, his hit song, (he had one of those now!) was about Geralt, so that was probably why he came. But he wanted to pretend it was just for him. That Geralt had wanted to see Jaskier perform. He was miles out of Jaskier’s league, but oh, could he could absolutely dream some very, very sexy dreams.

And then his mortal enemy had been there, and wasn’t that a treat. She’d looked gorgeous. It was unfair. His building was full of beautiful people, all who only tolerated him, were abysmally out of his league, or would eat him for breakfast, if they had the chance. At least fighting with her gave him the excuse to look at her, talk to her. She’d splashed a drink in his face and he’d needed to slip away to the bathroom when they’d finished talking, just to calm himself down. That was unfair. Don’t fuck mages, he reminded himself. Not that she ever would. He’d had at least 6 more drinks after that, just to push the thought away.

He’d thought he’d been doing a bit better, the past few minutes. But clearly, he wasn’t, as he must have been hallucinating.

Before him stood Geralt (gorgeous, fascinating, generous, kind, warm-hearted Geralt), looking a bit dazed himself, as well as The Bitch of the 13th Floor (intriguing, deadly, witty, beautiful). So, his sexual fantasy that he had not until that moment realized existed.

“Oh dear. I’m worse than I thought.”

“Jaskier, what’s wrong?”

“Too much to drink. Now I’m hallucinating.”

Geralt frowned. “What do you see?”

Jaskier pointed to the woman in front of him and then shut his eyes tightly. “Unless… unless it’s a magic thing.”

“No—Jaskier, this is Yennefer. Yennefer, Jaskier.”

Jaskier’s eyes flew open. “You know this woman? Of course you know this woman. So you do have a name!”

“Of course I have a name.”

“I don’t know, maybe mages don’t all have names.”

“You two know each other?”

Jaskier smiled loosely. “That’s my mortal enemy.”

“This is not Valdo Marx.”

“No! Penthouse Lady. Second one.”

“Oh. The Bitch of the 13th Floor.”

“Glad to know I hold a reputation in your circles, Jaskier,” she said lightly. “Though I’m a touch offended I’m only number 2.”

He frowned, and reached out for her arm, and held it lightly, then did the same with Geralt.

“Oh fuck. You are both here.”

“Right. Let’s get you back home.” Carefully, Geralt lifted Jaskier’s arm over his shoulders, and the three began to walk, Yennefer on his other side. They went to walk before he stopped, pulling Jaskier’s arm off him, and bent down.

“What are you--?”

“Your shoe strap is undone,” Geralt explained, before flashing a grin up at her. “I suppose this isn’t what you meant when you told me to kneel.”

“As I recall, I haven’t asked you to do that yet. I was saving it for the bedroom.”

Geralt finished with her shoe and then rose up, and they began walking. “The sticky note. ‘I will make you kneel and fix it yourself’?”

“…You’re the new tenant?! You’re the muddy bastard?!”

“Wait, you two were going to have sex?!” Jaskier whined.

“Let’s not jump to any conclusions.”

“I thought it was ‘Don’t fuck mages’, not ‘Don’t fuck mages unless they’re really hot, then that’s the exception’!”

“I can’t believe this,” Yennefer said. Her world fell apart and clicked into place all at once as they crossed the street. “Oh my god.”

“Did you not know?”

“Of course I didn’t know! You didn’t say how you knew him!”

“Well, there it is,” Geralt sighed. “And Jaskier, don’t just to conclusions, I wouldn’t presume that of her. All I did was buy her apple juice.”

“Now what kind of metaphor is that!”

“The kind that isn’t a metaphor at all.”

“Jaskier, if you say a single word about my apple juice—”

“I’m not saying anything about apple juice! It’s a noble beverage! But your apple juice leads to some implications!”

“And what if it does!” “Well! Well!” Jaskier flustered. “Well! We were going to watch our nature documentary tonight!”

“No we weren’t,” Geralt grumbled.

Jaskier looked at him, hurt. “What?”

“We weren’t going to watch the documentary, Jaskier. You were going to find someone to go home with.”

“I did find someone to go home with!” He said, bumping his hip into Geralt.

“I don’t count,” Geralt muttered, as they finally made it into the building.

“Why don’t you count?”

“Because, Jaskier, you weren’t planning to sleep with me.”

“Says who!”

“Let’s just go to mine,” Yennefer said as they stepped in the elevator. “I don’t want to try and navigate his apartment in the dark. I’m sure it’s a wreck.”

“It’s fine, actually,” Jaskier muttered. “Geralt I know we wouldn’t have slept together, you have standards, but—”

“Well, more like because he was planning on sleeping with me, thank you very much.”

“Watch out, Lady of the Penthouse, or I’ll… write a song about you.”

“Who said I was planning or not planning on sleeping with anyone?”

“You did!”

“I haven’t said anything.”

“That’s the point!”

“So, you two… aren’t sleeping together?”

“What’s your point?!” Geralt demanded, oblivious to Yennefer’s question.

“Well, that’s how you know someone doesn’t want to sleep with you! One of the many ways. They don’t say they do! You’ve made it clear we’re just… you know. Pals.”

“I never said that!”

“That’s what I’m saying!”

“Jaskier, for once in your life, would you say something with some sense?!” “I said, ‘come home with me’! How much more clear do I have to be than ‘I’d rather spend the night with you’?! Actually, frankly, with both of you, this is nice. Loud, but nice. I can’t believe I’m saying this about my sworn nemesis.”

“Now, hold on—”

“Everybody shut up!” Yennefer said, loud enough that the boys shut their mouths. “No more speaking. We will be at my apartment soon. I will be going into my kitchen to get you,” she pointed at Jaskier, “something to ensure you don’t get sick all over the elevator.”

“I’m—I’m feeling a lot better, really,” he said. She made a shushing motion against his lips, and she could feel his hot breath, could sense his heartbeat race faster, watched his cheeks flush. Interesting.

“By the time I’m back, I want you two sorted.” The doors dinged, and they emerged on a landing in front of an intricate white door, which Yennefer opened with a wave of her hand. “I’ll be back in a moment. Just… let me know who Geralt will be kneeling for,” she said, and then walked into the kitchen, heels snapping against the tile.

She looked at her cabinets, opening one and retrieving the bottle she wanted. Well. They’d need more than a few seconds, surely. She placed it carefully on the counter and listened.

“I…” Geralt was saying. “Um.”

“I didn’t… Geralt. I’m sorry. I don’t want to… ruin things.”

“You’re not ruining anything.”

“You’ve hardly shown interest, I know you’re not…”

“I’m bad at these things. Talking. You know that.”

“Okay, then…” Jaskier trailed off, and took a big breath. “Then show me.”

“Show you?”

“What you mean. Or… what you don’t mean. I don’t know. But if there’s… Geralt, if there’s something, anything about me that you want, in that way, I am asking you to show me. It’s fine if not. But… I’m here, I want it, if you do. I mean, I want it either way, really. Have for a bit.”

“…You’re drunk.”

“I won’t be, once Yennefer gets that… thing. And it’ll be the same. I promise.

“I don’t want you regretting anything.”

“How could I regret you? Show me, Geralt. Please.”

“…Show you."

“Yes, yes, please, Geralt. Pl—”

And there was silence. Or, there was the sound of mouths sliding against each other, soft, deep moans reverberating in their chests. She let them have the moment, and then Jaskier gave a soft whine, and she smiled. That was her cue.

She clicked into the foyer, bottle held aloft.

“A gift,” she said, and the two staggered apart, “for my nemesis. Purely because his white wolf brought me apple juice, let it be known. And thank you for the show. Both at the bar and here.” Jaskier stepped toward her and took the bottle.

“I must warn you,” she said, “it tastes like goat piss.” Jaskier popped the cork, and chugged the bottle before making a face.

“How long does it take to— oh, fuck—”

“Pretty instantaneous,” Yennefer said as he grabbed her shoulder to support himself. Geralt came up behind him.

“The room stopped spinning. I didn’t even realize it was spinning,” he frowned. He shook his head for a moment, turned back to Geralt, and grabbed his neck, pulling them to meet in a firm kiss. “See? Meant it.”

“Maybe I need some of that too,” Geralt muttered. “Things are spinning.”

“As much as I enjoy playing cupid,” Yennefer said, taking back the bottle, “it seems as though I’ve been a bit removed from the equation, so you two had best be off, I suppose.”

“Someday, you’ll be won over by my charms,” Jaskier said with a kiss to her knuckles. “But if you two had… plans… I could always wait a night. Unless you’d like both of us in your bed,” he half-joked to her.

“I don’t know how this is happening to me,” Geralt muttered.

“Oh, be careful what you wish for, Jaskier,” she hummed, “you might just get it.”

“Does this mean I’ve won you over?”

“It means I don’t let a good night pass me by.”

“Oh, so you think I’ll be good, you admit that.”

“It means I’m open to you proving me wrong. But I saw you play. You can make good use of those hands. Geralt?”

Geralt was leaning against the wall, staring into the middle distance, looking lost. “I just. A lot has happened. I thought you hated each other?”

“I told you she was gorgeous, I don’t just say things.”

“You do very much just say things.”

“Well, then, someone’s going to have to shut me up.”

Yennefer tilted his head back to face her and pulled him down into a kiss—languid and slow, as one of his arms grabbed her waist and pulled her upwards and to him, just enough that she was standing on tip toe. She ran her hands up his chest, coming to rest around his neck, playing with his hair. He finally pulled away, just to kiss a line down one side of her jaw, sucking a small mark onto her neck.

She looked back at Geralt, still a bit dazed but with a fire behind his eyes. “Well,” she said, detaching herself from Jaskier. “Will you be joining?”

Rather than answer, Geralt took a few steps forward toward her. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her—gentle and almost pleading. They fit together so easily, he thought. He hadn’t ever fit with someone like he had with two people tonight. How had he earned this? How had he made it to this point in his life?

Jaskier was suddenly behind him, kissing his back, running one hand up his chest, the other against Yennefer’s hand, which had reached his shoulder. He couldn’t have all this, could he?

“You think so loudly, Geralt,” Yennefer teased him.

“It’s true,” Jaskier agreed. “Even I hear it, darling.”

“Okay. Then… take me somewhere I don’t have to think.”

Yennefer smiled, took his hand in hers, and Jaskier’s in her other. “I’m glad your place was the bedroom,” Jaskier whispered, “Because honestly, mine would probably be the zoo.”

Yennefer pinched his hand, “Ow! But am I wrong?! You don’t need your brain for the zoo!” and led them on.

x

8:24am

Sunday, April 3rd

16 Messages from Aretuza Takes Novigrad

Coral Lytta — 9 hours ago

okay, thanks for letting us know, yen!!! have fun!!

Fringilla – 9 hours ago

Wait, I’m sorry, were the two people you just went home with the witcher and the musician? The guy you hate?

Sabrina — 9 hours ago

What on earth is happening

Fringilla – 9 hours ago

She didn’t specify which two guys she went home with, but I’m pretty sure I just saw them all leave together.

Sabrina — 8 hours ago

I can’t believe drama is happening without me

Coral Lytta — 7 hours ago

its not drama drama is frin getting the number of someone with a green hair when she specifically said she’d sworn off of green hair for at least a year

Sabrina — 7 hours ago

omfg

Fringilla – 6 hours ago

Coral!! Where are you, I’m not letting you get away with this! They’re cute! You can’t shame me.

Coral Lytta — 5 hours ago

update everyone we got a car home and frin has been texting green hair (jesu) the whole way home if youre reading this its too late for me it was nice knowing u

Sabrina – 3 hours ago

Loving this. Just blew up half a field with Anica. She says hi

Sabrina – 2 hours ago

Hey yen I am seeing this mystery enemy of yours on tiktok people filmed his set

Sabrina – 2 hours ago

He’s hot good job

Sabrina – 2 hours ago

But why is he playing a fucking lute

Coral Lytta – 1 hour ago

morning all yennefer please send pics of ur hot date(s)

Fringilla – 15 minutes ago

Are we not addressing that Sabrina and Anica blew up a field?!

Sabrina — Just Now

Lol

8:24am

Sunday, April 3rd

167 Messages from CITY WITCHERS GETTING LAMBERT (AND GERALT) DATES… Showing 16

Lambert – 10 hours ago

Okay I made him laugh and now I’m in the bathroom what the fuck now??

Eskel – 10 hours ago

Pay for the bill, leave a good tip for that waiter for saving your ass, and then ask him if he wants to go back to yours. You’ve done this before, Lamb.

Coën – 10 hours ago

He’s been flirting with you all night, you’ll be fine.

Lambert – 10 hours ago

Fuck Okay If you never hear from me again it’s because I died of embarrassment

Lambert – 10 hours ago

Bye forever

Eskel – 9 hours ago

Drama queen. Hey Geralt how’s it going?

Coën – 9 hours ago

He’s in it too deep. He probably watched that guy play live and just died.

Lambert – 6 hours ago

Sex is so awesome

Eskel – 6 hours ago

Congrats bro. I’m sleeping now.

Lambert – 6 hours ago

Don’t you wanna hear about how great sex is

Eskel – 6 hours ago

I know it’s great, Lambert. I’ve had sex before

Lambert – 6 hours ago

Are we sure are we super sure you had sex cause like I just had GREAT sex possibly the best

Coën – 6 hours ago

It is two in the morning. I am begging you to shut up

Lambert – 6 hours ago

Put us on silent so I can talk about how great sex is

Lambert – 6 hours ago

Ha beat you to this one Geralt bet you didn’t have sex with someone hot tonight. HA

Lambert – 6 hours ago

Okay gotta go round two bye

8:24am

Sunday, April 3rd

Geralt – 10 hours ago

You coming back to the table?

Geralt – 10 hours ago

If I’m gone when you get back let me know when you get home

Geralt – 10 hours ago

You did really good, Jaskier. I’m proud of you

TikTok – 2 hours ago

You have 25,634 new followers!

TikTok – 1 hour ago

You hit 2.3 million views! Click here to see what people are saying…

Spotify – 15 minutes ago

You have 5,785 new followers and 806,216 new listens on Toss a Coin EP

Maybe: Yennefer – 5 minutes ago

It's Yennefer, send me that selfie of all of us you took, I wanna freak out my group chat

Geralt, Maybe: Yennefer

Maybe: Yennefer – 4 minutes ago

I can’t believe I’m the one doing this, but I guess we need a group chat.

To: Geralt, Maybe: Yennefer

Message: 1 image

Here’s the selfie for you both!! Use it wisely ;)

A Sorceress, A Witcher, and a Handsome Bard Walk into a Bar…

Yennefer – 3 minutes ago

Geralt get me apple juice while you’re up

A Sorceress, A Witcher, and a Handsome Bard Walk into a Bar…

Yennefer – 2 minutes ago

Jaskier, this chat name, you cannot be serious

A Sorceress, A Witcher, and a Handsome Bard Walk into a Bar…

Geralt – Just now

Haha

A Sorceress, A Witcher, and a Handsome Bard Walk into a Bar…

Geralt – Just now

:)

[siriusmydeer]

valentine’s day surprise

sirius black x fem!reader

summary: sirius has a valentine’s day surprise for you.

word count: 1.1k

warning: implied sex, mentions of food and peter pettigrew

“valentine’s day, hmm” sirius mumbled looking at you, he was sat in one of the vermillion love seats of the gryffindor common room meanwhile you were across from him. you were sat on the floor, facing him.

“indeed it is dear, w’dya say? feel like celebrating?” you said in a hushed whisper, teasingly.

“well, perhaps it’s only nine in the morning. i thought we’d have breakfast, then i’d take you out, we come back here and i’ll give you.... a 𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙚𝙣𝙩” he hinted while raising a brow, a small smirk grazed his lips.

you snorted, full of sarcasm. “yeah, a present or maybe 10. m’darling you’re very unpredictable.” you expressed, then gave a ‘𝘵𝘴𝘬’ to the raven haired male. he was always one to spoil, with the family fortunes of his he always felt the need to buy you something.

it didn’t matter if it was a ring made of plastic with candy on top, or if it was emeralds, ruby’s or diamonds. he wanted you to have it all.

“alright m’love, up up time for breakfast. i need to treat m’lady.” he beckoned you mockingly, he sat up from the couch and held out an elbow for you to grab.

you sat up, your polished nails and dainty fingers curling around his flexed bicep. you walked out of his (or shared) common room, in a synced step towards the great hall.

“so when you say ‘go out’ are you implying we go prank everyone with love sick gifts or we go and stuff our faces?” you said, hands lightly flailing in the air and voice filled with light sarcasm. you knew he wanted to spend the day with you, he was your love of course. you just wanted to know if you were properly dressed for the occasion of his secret plans.

“darling girl we will not be pranking, today-“ he paused, before continuing.

“well maybe we can throw eggs at grossly in love couples.” he looked towards you, asking almost for approval if you liked his thought.

“aren’t we a grossly in love couple?” you questioned, with fake innocence. he was sirius black so of course you were a disgustingly in-love couple, at every waking moment his hands were attached to your limbs and he just wanted to show off his lover.

both of you entered the great hall, you sat at the shared gryffindor table. remus had been out trying to land a date with a particular ravenclaw, james finally scoring a date with his red-head. meanwhile peter was trying, and failing, to flirt with mary mcdonald.

you and sirius were seated at the end of the gryffindor table, a distance from peter failing to flirt and mary, she was grimacing; too nice to decline him as she continued to eat her oatmeal.

“i feel embarrassed for him.” you whispered to the tall male, while he scooped eggs into your plate. “i mean siri it’s almost as if you need to give him lessons on how to flirt.”

“wouldn’t that be a sight? me teaching peter how to flirt, i can even roleplay as mary.” he teased, putting jam on his toast.

“ouuu maybe i can put you in one of my dresses, and put makeup on you for the full effect.” you shot back at him, already enjoying your amusing conversation for the morning.

“maybe i’ll even braid your hair.” you continued while he chuckled and put the food into his mouth. oh his lips, those beautiful, pink, smooth cushions that made your knees weak; that you so desperately wanted to kiss.

the lustful look on your face gave away your thoughts to your boyfriend who knew you all too well. he gave your lips a quick peck and began to clear his throat. “eat, i don’t want you going starved for our day later.”

you continued with breakfast, then made your way back to the common room entrance. “alright, love for this portion of the day i’m going to have to rid you of one of your senses.” he started, pulling out a gryffindor tie from his pocket.

“turn around, close your eyes and let me guide you.” he said, turning around your figure and tying it around your eyes, ridding you of sight.

“and who said i trusted you enough to guide me?” you chuckled, and cracked an amused smirk in his direction the best you could. he put his hand in your far pocket and began walking you towards his destination of choice.

he began guiding you through the corridors of the castle, he put your body to a stop and you heard his padded foot steps in a pacing walk.

‘why is he pacing?’ you questioned in your mind, curious of his valentine’s day surprise.

sirius’ muscular figure went behind you and he placed both of his large calloused hands on the bottom of your waist and guided you into a secluded room.

“darling, we’ve arrived to my big surprise.” he undid the tie wrapped around your irises, stepping aside from your line of vision.

your eyes made a beeline towards the fire place, with a large table with an array of baked goods, fruit and all your favourite drinks. you looked to your left, head making a tilt. a king sized bed with a gold comforter, and a can-nope on top of the bed posts. a nice carpet with a selection of pillows on the floor and your favourite snacks from hogsmeade.

you knew this room all too well, the room of requirement.

the thought sirius going out of his way for you brought tears welling in your water line, and eyes glassy.

“you- you did this all for me?” you questioned, voice a little thick and hoarse. he nodded, hands digging into his pockets. he was nervous that he had made a mistake, that you weren’t happy with what he had done.

“do you like it?” he itched at the back of his neck nervously glancing around. his silver eyes making it into yours with a squint. you made a slow walk towards him, only being less that three feet away.

you folded your hands around his neck, his forearms wrapped around your waist. chests pressed against each other’s. “this... is probably one of my favourite things you’ve ever done.” you whispered, a silly small smile on your lips. you leaned up a bit to give him a small peck on the lips.

“well i mean... i could show you another favourite thing we like to do.” he implied, a shit eating grin on his lips. he pulled you into a lip lock, slotting his lips with yours.

“𝗶 𝗺𝗲𝗮𝗻 𝘄𝗲 𝗱𝗼 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗱𝗮𝘆”

[bellafarallones2]

From the meet uglies prompt list:

84. I’m not entirely sure who you are but we’ve been in a massive prank war ever since your first prank on your friend went awry and I was covered in paint

For JakeHollis, please? Sfw or nsfw! This screams them to me!

JakeHollis, SFW, very light angst, some absolutely weird vibes! QueerElfClub's Hollis cosplay is my headcanon for them always and forever

All told, Jake’s first day at Kepler High hadn’t been too bad. Barclay and Dani had told him roughly what to expect, including a rapid rundown of the Earth history he’d be looked at strangely for not knowing. So far, math was his favorite class, because it was the same as on Silvain. Mama had gotten him into something called AP BC Calculus, which seemed like far too many acronyms for a class about shapes. His next most favorite class was PE.

Now it was almost three, and the final bell had rung. Packing up his backpack had taken so much time that the hallways were mostly empty, and he wandered idly, looking for the exit. Barclay was supposed to be picking him up somewhere called the “kiss and ride,” though Jake had been assured kissing was not mandatory. No signs pointed the way, and Jake knew better than to ask someone for directions. Teenagers were the same everywhere.

He found himself in a wing of the school none of his classes had been in, passing rooms labeled ORCHESTRA and BAND and COLOR GUARD EQUIPMENT STORAGE. The sound of music came through the walls.

Finally, though - miracle of miracles! - he saw the light of day, and hurried towards the door it was coming from. The door was even cracked open, and Jake pushed it open the rest of the way and stepped out onto the sidewalk.

Something hit his head.

Something that made a klang noise against his skull, and he thought for a moment his head had cracked - he didn’t know how fragile these disguises were - but no, there was something else dripping through his hair and down his face and down all over his new colorful jacket. He looked down. It was white and foul-smelling, and when he blinked his eyelashes clumped and stuck together.

Jake was fairly certain neither Dani nor Barclay had mentioned this. He could barely see, just the edges of a person saying oh fuck, I’m so sorry, I thought you were Keith, and tugging him back into the school, which was not at all where he wanted to go.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” the voice said, and Jake found himself in a restroom, without even the time to make sure it was the correct one - he needed to be in one called BOYS or MEN, or the one with a little outline of a person without a skirt. or GENTLEMEN. (Barclay knew a long list of things he’d seen printed on bathroom doors.)

But here he was, and he bent to the sink to wash his face and came up dripping. Then he repeated the introduction he’d given so many times already today.

“I’m Jake,” he said. “Dani’s brother.” (People knew Dani; she’d graduated only two years earlier. He told teachers he was Barclay’s brother. Barclay was a little older, but a better student than Dani had been.)

“Oh,” said the person. “I think I had an art class with her. I’m Hollis.”

“Nice to meet you.”

Hollis had curly black hair and brown skin, and the sleeves of their shirt were tattered like they’d been cut off and not hemmed afterwards. When they rubbed at the stuff on Jake’s sleeve with a wet paper towel he could see the fine line of muscle beneath the skin in their arm.

Jake took a deep breath. “Do you think you could point me towards the kiss and ride?”

By the time Jake climbed into Barclay’s truck, he was as clean as one could get with hand soap and paper towels.

“How was your first day?” said Barclay, tactfully not saying anything about the paint.

“Fine. I’m really glad you and Dani told me so much about what to expect. But when I was trying to find my way out at the end of the day a bucket of paint fell on my head.”

“Oh, dear.”

“Someone helped me clean up, though. Their name’s Hollis. I think we’re friends now?”

“Well, that’s nice.”

“One girl in my homeroom brought in brownies to share with everybody because it was her birthday. Are you allowed to do that even if it’s not your birthday?”

“I don’t see why not.”

“Can I bring in cupcakes tomorrow? The ones you make are really good and I think people would like me if I gave them some.”

Barclay looked over at him, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “Alright,” he said. “I’ll make you some cupcakes.”

--

The cupcakes were gorgeous. Each was as the platonic ideal of what a cupcake should be, the cupcake held before the fire to cast a shadow in Plato’s confectionary cave. The cake part was delicate and moist and yellow, and the frosting was pink, dusted with rainbow sprinkles.

“Oh,” said Jake’s homeroom teacher when she saw him come in carrying the lovingly packed tray. Barclay had put crumpled saran wrap between each cupcake so they wouldn’t knock into each other. “Is it your birthday, Jake?”

“Nope! But I brought cupcakes for everyone.”

“Alright,” said the teacher. “You can start passing them out now, if you’d like.”

Jake held out the tray to each person in the first few rows in turn, receiving varyingly sincere ‘thank you’s in return. But sitting in the back corner by the window was Hollis, and when Jake got to them, he didn’t hold out the tray. No, he selected the most perfect cupcake there was, cupped its soft bottom, and shoved the perfect pink frosting into Hollis’ perfect face.

“Oops,” Jake said sweetly.

“Jake!” said the teacher. “What do you think you’re doing!?”

But Hollis was already laughing, wiping pink frosting off their face and licking it off their fingers. “It’s fine, Ms. B., we’re in a prank war.”

“Well, please refrain from waging it in my classroom!”

“I’m sorry,” said Jake. He’d never heard the phrase prank war before, but the word war he didn’t like at all. War was the slowly narrowing boundaries of habitable land, war was an enemy that was somehow both inuman and implacably angry.

The boy sitting to Hollis’ left was looking up at Jake with something like shock and anger in his face. Looking away, Jake held out the plate of cupcakes to him so he could select his own.

--

Jake still had trouble finding the cafeteria, and so most of the students were seated when he arrived. He was scanning looking for a seat where he wouldn’t be intruding on someone else’s friend group when Hollis’ waving hand caught his attention. “Yo, Jake! Come sit with us?”

Jake hurried over. Before he reached the table Hollis elbowed the boy who was sitting next to them, the same one who’d been next to them in homeroom, and he scooted hurriedly over into the next seat so Jake could sit next to Hollis.

“Hello,” Jake said, nodding at each person at the table.

“This is Jake,” said Hollis. “He got me good in homeroom with a cupcake to the face.”

The others at the table laughed.

“Jake, this is Keith, Madison, and Ty,” Hollis continued, indicating the boy who’d been displaced, a girl with purple streaks in her long brown hair, and a boy with a mullet.

“Nice to meet you,” said Jake. He listened to them talk as he unpacked the lunch Barclay had packed him. A sandwich on part of a baguette, a chocolate-chip cookie, a honeycrisp apple (Jake had just been on earth long enough to have opinions about the different varieties of apples), and a note reminding him that Barclay loved him and wanted him to have a good day.

His tablemates were discussing what they were going to do over the weekend. Ty suggested going to Walmart, which was shot down on the grounds that they’d done that last weekend. No one’s parents were out of town, which eliminated the possibility of a house party.

“There’s nothing to do,” Madison whined.

“Can you drive places?” Jake asked.

Everyone went quiet. “Yep,” said Hollis. “When Madison’s parents let her use the car.”

It was Jake’s first autumn on earth, and from his bedroom window on the second floor of Amnesty Lodge he could see the leaves changing colors, red and orange and yellow between the bristles of the evergreens. “You could drive around and look at leaves. I’d like to come along, if that’s alright.”

Everyone was silent, deciding whether that was the lamest thing they’d ever heard or so lame it went straight through the other side into being kind of a good idea again.

“Fuck it,” said Hollis finally. “Let’s do it. And of course you’re invited, Jake, let me add you to the group chat.”

--

That Saturday, a silver Honda pulled up in front of Amnesty Lodge. Madison was at the wheel, Ty in the front passenger seat, and Keith sulking in the back. Behind it was a sleek motorcycle, and the rider’s helmet reflected the autumn leaves above.

Hollis pulled off their helmet. Their hair was disheveled and gorgeous. “If it was five of us in the car someone would have had to sit in the middle back, and that sucks,” they said. “Hop on, Jake.” They were holding out a second helmet.

“Um,” said Jake, offering them a bottle of sparkling cider with gold foil around the neck. “I brought something for us to drink?” The agreement had been that they would drive to one of the pull-off spots along the highway and have drinks there.

“Sweet,” said Hollis. “Put it in the back of the car?”

When Jake opened the back door of the car he saw a case of white claw on the seat next to Keith. “Was I supposed to bring alcohol?” Jake said. “I could have.” There was wine at the lodge; sometimes on the weekends Mama and Barclay went wine-tasting together, because Dani’s ID said she wasn’t old enough.

“No, Jake, you’re fine,” Hollis said. “Climb on.”

Jake fit the helmet over his head and climbed onto the smooth leather seat of the motorcycle behind Hollis. “Hold on tight,” said Hollis.

The motorcycle roared to life like one of Silvain’s larger beasts. Then it leaped forward, swerving hard to veer around Madison’s parents’ car. Jake swallowed a shriek and held on tighter. He could no longer feel the soft fabric of Hollis’s shirt, only the beast beneath them and the wind tearing at their jackets and the red, orange, and yellow leaves racing by above.

By the time they reached the appointed meeting place the others weren’t even in sight.

“So,” said Hollis when they pulled their helmet off. “What brings you to Kepler?”

Jake knew how to lie, when presented with questions like this. But with Hollis they found they didn’t want to. “I got kicked out of my old school.”

Hollis’s eyebrows went up.

“For… stealing.” Stealing food, because his family’s traditional hunting grounds had been corrupted by the Quell, and everyone else had barely enough for themselves. The huge mounds of apples in the grocery store in Kepler were the first thing to convince him he’d been exiled to paradise.

“Damn, Jake. And here I thought you were so wholesome.”

Jake threw up a hang-ten. “Nah, I’m a real bad boy.”

“Are you… with anyone? From your old school?”

“Nope. Are you?”

“Nah.” Hollis took a deep breath. It was the first time Jake had noticed them breathing. Human beings had to breathe so frequently, he’d found, and he sometimes forgot to until his lungs reminded him. His old body had been able to hold its breath for over an hour, collapsing his lungs so he was sleekness against the water inside and out. Incompressible.

“Wanna make out?” said Hollis.

“Yeah,” said Jake.

Hollis leaned in and kissed him. The best part was how warm their lips were, how warm their face was, right up close to his. No, scratch that. The best part was how they smelled, a smell Jake hadn’t encountered on earth up to that point but knew now he could never get enough of. No, the best part was -

Tires on gravel. Jake startled, but Hollis didn’t stop kissing him, even as Madison honked the horn on her parents’ car.

To Jake, that was the most surprising thing, that Hollis would want to kiss him in front of their friends. Teenagers were the same everywhere.

[mxvladdy]

Mistletoe prt.2

*yeets and runs* Sorry for the break in between.

Leviathan

-gasp! It's just like in his animes -and just like his animes it has to be perfect -boi is playing 5 D chess up in here -Mostly has to hype himself up

It started like any other game session with Levi. Greasy pizza plates and ramen bowls stacked precariously around you on the rim of his large tub. The two of you lounging inside of it.  The hours ticked by surrounded by the sounds hardcore gaming.

He had invited you over to help him grind on a new phone game he bought. It was easier to go through the dungeons in a party then solo. Solid logic, and you never minded playing with him. Except for- well Levi himself. “Not on your A-game today?” You ask peaking over your phone to the demon stretched out across from you. He grunts noncommittally, eyes not even on his screen. They flick back to the screen once he noticed you staring.

“N-no. Sorry.” He muttered, sinking into himself. Hmm-Probably nothing. Happens to the best of them.

Six failed quests later though you had had enough.

“Bro!” You toss your device at him coming to crawl into his lap. You plop down on his blanketed form ignoring his protests and grab his own phone away. “What is up with you tonight? You sick?” Levi squawks flailing his gangly arms trying to push you off. His face and shoulders lighting up bright red with embarrassment.

“G-Get off!” He struggles.

“No!” You swat his hands away to grab  at his face. Hmmm. Flushed but not feverish. “What is up with you today? Omg are you dying!” You straddle him poking and prodding at him. “If you die can I have your stuff? Promise I’ll feed Henry.” At this point you were just teasing him. He wrestles back stuttering and chirping.

“You’re on top of me! That’s the problem!” He frees himself from his blanket cocoon to flip your positions. His claws point into your flesh warningly.

You snort up into your demon’s beet red face. “Noo~You were acting weird before that too. This is your normal awkwardness.” You poke his nose for effect.

“Hmmph.” He pulls off of you and rubs at his face. Levi retreats back to his corner. “You didn’t notice. Of course you wouldn’t.” Notice what? You do a quick inventory of you and his room. Nope. All 10 fingers and toes, his room was its regular tidy chaos.

“Gimme a hint?” You feel stupid. Levi isn’t exactly subtle yet you were stumped. Still hiding behind his face in his pillows he points to his back. His tail to be exact. It wasn’t unusual for him to have his tail out when you came to chill. He used it a lot to grab stuff to drag it into his nest. You follow the line of his tail over the lip of the tub and then up-and up. The tip of which dangled over you a bright red ribbon tied to it… “Mistletoe? Oh-OH.” It was your turn to turn beet red. “How was I supposed to notice!” You shout flustered.

“How was I supposed to know you wouldn’t!” He yells back. You stare at each other for a moment before you both burst out laughing at your shared stupidity.

“I’m sorry Levi,” You snort. Wiping at the tears of mirth brimming at the corner of your eyes you scoot closer. “Let me make it up to you? I believe you’ve deserve more than a kiss or two.”

Satan

-Smoother than a 100 year old bottle of port this one -He knew about this tradition before but will feign ignorance -Suave bastard has you guessing. Does he know about it or not???

You meet Satan’s gaze trying very very hard to figure out his angle. He doesn’t make a move. Instead he just rests on a large stack of books. An inhumanly large stack of books. More stacks and piles stood ominously behind him. “You owe me.” He purs tapping a finger to his lips. Ugh- you did owe him. Technically, it hadn’t been your fault. You were just in the wrong place and the worst possible time to walk in on Belphegor and Mammon somehow flood the library. Those two had supernatural speed and agility on their side when they heard the undeniable footsteps of wraith. You, on the other hand, did not.

At least he hadn’t killed you.

“Can’t you do this with magic?” You sigh hours later. Your fingers were pruning and the amount of paper cuts you had were staggering.

“Some of these books are very fragile. Magic would react negatively with them. By hand is best for these.” His back is to you, his full attention locked on the soggy book he was plotting with a towel. You grouch flipping back on your blow dryer. When you find those two Satan will be the least of their worries. Maybe you could get Lucifer on their asses as well.

Three stacks down and Devil knows how many left Satan finally calls for a break. Weary you drop to his chaise to rub at your sore feet. “Here,” He places a paper cup in your hand. “A little reward. It’s the perfect season for it, no?” Popping the lid you inhale the sweet smell of chocolate and cayenne.

“Thanks.” You take a sip and scoot over to let him sit as well. You drink in a pleasant silence. The chocolate warms you up and boosts your mood greatly. “Ready to get back to it? I bet we can get half of these done by dinner. Maybe then our next break could be hunting down those two clowns?” He laughs. You sound so hopeful for a little revenge.

“I won’t say no. But let’s see how far we get.” He helps you back up and hands you a small pile of leather bound books. “Unfortunately you can’t use heat on these, it will shrink the leather. Just put some of these towels and tissues between each page. And no, the puppy dog eyes won’t work on me.” Damn.

At least these books were beautiful. Gold and silver foil inlaid everywhere, the pages were soft and flexible under your fingertips from use. You could see why Satan wanted you to be extra careful with these.

You get into a groove with these books. Flip a page and insert a tissue. Rinse and repeat. It gave you a chance to zone out and enjoy the artwork on each page. Until the last book. Your flow was interrupted by something bulky nestled within the pages. You flip to the middle of the book to retrieve whatever it was (please don’t let it be another mummified demon rat please!).

It wasn't much to your relief. Instead you extract a dried bundle of green and white. You squint at it, turning it around in the light of your desk lamp. You feel Satan standing behind you. “My, would you look at that.” He snatches the herb from your fingers and spins your chair around to face him. “Mistletoe.” He dangles it up above the two of you.

“You set me up.” You grin leaning close to him. Your hands making their way to his shoulders to link around the back of his neck.

“Perhaps.” He hums. With a wave of his hand you feel his magic encapsulate the books around you, drying them instantly.  He tosses the mistletoe away and reaches for your waist. “Are you mad?” You shake your head.

“No. But you better make it up to me.”  

[ships4you]

midnight promises {zuko}

Part 2 to flames & deception

avatar the last airbender MASTERLIST

Pairing: Zuko x Earth Kingdom!Reader

Prompt: Once Azula finds out about the readers relationship with her brother, she sends the Dai Li to lock the reader up in a prison in Ba Sing Se. Iroh sends a friend to sneak into the capital and save the reader before the comet arrives, fearing that she would be transported during the fight. Zuko then arrives at the White Lotus camp with the Gaang and rejoins with the reader.

lol guys, In my mind Zuko is such a baby. Honestly I am thinking about coming out with another part to this. I just love the dynamic, so lmk if you guys want more!

“Dinnertime!” the guard spoke through the metal door, sliding a tray of mushy gunk through the small opening. You rolled your eyes, picking up the plate to sit on you rock of a bed. You slowly picked away at your food, knowing all too well if you were ever to escape this hell you would need the energy.

After the fire nation took control over Ba Sing Se, many generals and war officials; including your father, were taken captive. Just a few nights after your father was arrested, the Dai Li showed up at your house and took you to the Capital’s prison. Apparently, Princess Azula of the fire nation had heard of your ‘treacherous acts’ and demanded you be thrown in jail. (All for being a peasant dating the crowned prince of the fire nation. The audacity.)

As for Zuko... He had been gone for half a year now. Disappearing the night before the siege of the city. For all you knew he could be dead. You would often playback the memory of the last time you saw him, in search for any hints to what may have happened to him.

***

“Hey.” you walked over to Zuko pressing a light kiss to his lips. “Why’d you guys shut down the shop early?” you questioned, picking up a stray tray of dirty teacups. “We have been invited to the royal palace to serve tea to the Earth King!” Iroh sang out, his belly bouncing as he giddily paced around the shop. “He’s been humming and dancing around the shop ever since he got the invitation.” Zuko shook his head, grinning from ear to ear.

Iroh swiftly swooped past you sliding the tray out from your hands, “I will finish cleaning up down here. Now you two run along, go upstairs and pack the supplies.”

Zuko was already halfway up the steps before Iroh could finish. “Congratulations,” you said giving Iroh the biggest hug, “I’m so happy for you, you deserve this.” As you pulled away he rested his hand on your shoulder, “I am sure I am one of many tea-makers awarded with this honor. It is just nice to be recognized.” You placed a kiss on his cheek before running up the stairs.

You only made it a few steps into the apartment before feeling his hands wrap around your waist, warm fingers caressing into your skin. “Do firebenders always have warm hands?” you pondered, feeling him dig his face into the side of your neck. “Mmm what kind of question is that?” he mumbled into your skin as you wrapped your arms over his, swaying with to non-existent music. “We are always warm; its in our nature.” he said pressing his parted lips into your skin.

You turned to face him, lifting your hand over his head to rest on his shoulders. “Sounds like you would freeze to death in the snow.” you teased messing with the short raven strands of hair on the nape of his neck. He leaned into your touch, “Mhmm, spirits, don’t remind me.”

Before your could question his response Iroh boomed from downstairs, “Lee, the carriage to escort us to the palace has arrived.”

Zuko groaned, “Alright Uncle, I will be down in a second.”

He hesitantly left your arms to grab a beaten up green and yellow case, “So can I come see you later tonight?” you shrugged, “My father will be home till late, military stuff. So just come over when you’re done at the palace.”

“Good girl.” he purred and cupped your chin to pull you in, his soft lips claiming yours.

He broke away before you had time to react, jogging down the stairs. Leaving you standing in the middle of the apartment. Flustered and dumbfounded.

***

Awoken in the middle of the night by harsh grunt and an ‘oof’, you sat up in bed; listening to the footsteps inch closer and closer to your cage door. The lock clicked open causing you to jump up. A tall man in a dark red robe stood in the doorway before you, the faint outline of a sword peeking out from his coat.

“Who are you?” you said holding your hands up, prepared to attack. (Being the child of a military general often meant self defense classes on the weekends). The man pulled back his hood, “I am Piandao, member of the white lotus.” he said bowing.

Is he fire nation? You wondered, noticing the placement of his hands as he bowed.

“I’ve been sent to break you out. Iroh sends his best.” he says with a wink, before stepping to the side, gesturing for you to exit your cage.

***

It had been a week since your rescue. Uncle Iroh had greeted you when you first arrived, the both of you sharing a few tears during the reunion. Since then you had not seen him around camp. According to your new friend Bumi, who you had spent most of your time with sparring, Iroh was leading a revolution to take back Ba Sing Se. You could understand he was busy.

As much as you grew to love all the members of the white lotus, they still were old men. There was only so much Pai Sho you could handle. So, you set up your tent on the outskirts of camp. Far enough away so you could have some privacy. You weren’t disturbed often, so when the front opening of your tent began to open you yelped, throwing your discarded shoe at the stranger.

“Oof, what the hell?”

You immediately recognized his voice.

“Zuko?!”

He ducked further into the light, his hair longer than before. Instead of wearing brown and green garments, like you were used to, he wore a red tunic lined with gold outlines. He looked worn, his eyes slightly sucken and tired— accompanied with a nice set of baggage.

“Y-you’re alive.” he whimpered, practically falling to his knees, pulling you into him.

“Of course I’m alive,” you said, “Why would I be dead?” You barely finished your sentence before Zuko pressed his lips into yours, hands reaching up to cup your face. You gripped to his shirt, pulling him closer to you, worried he may disappear again if you were to let go.

He pulled away, “Azula said... I thought she had killed you.” he explained. You studied the gold specks in his eyes, glimmering from the candlelight. You chuckled, “Nope, I’m still here.”

“Thank the spirits.” he praised swiftly pecking your lips once more, “Cause I am never letting you out of my sight again.”

You spent the next few hours talking non-stop. He explained his return to the fire nation- distraught after being told by Azula that you had been targeted and killed by the Dai Li. He spent a lot of time telling you about his confrontation with his father, finally standing up against his years of abuse. You listened carefully to each and every word, making sure he felt heard, and even shared a few tears with him. But when he would talk about the avatar and his new friends would light up. Explaining their adventures and new experiences. You couldn’t keep yourself from smiling.

He was absolutely outraged to hear about your time spent in prison. At one point he had been angrily stomping around the tent, “I- I- How could she do this!! You did nothing to her- you were not a threat! And she just-“ You had kissed him to calm his nerves, helping to forgive what had happened.

***

The sun had set hours ago, the candle slowly simmering to a low dull. The two of you had somehow ended up on the floor, ears pressed against your single pillow to face each other. You had been quietly combing your fingers through his hair, his eyes rested shut.

“I like long hair on you.”

He opened his eyes, peering at you through his long eyelashes. “It gives me something to grab onto now.” you teased lightly clasping your hand into a fist. He snickered, “Oh really.” His hand made his way down your backside to reach and grab your leg, pulling it to hook around his hip. “Oh god, don’t even get me started on the red. I mean, I knew you were fire nation, but flameo hotman.”

He practically lunged at your lips, pulling your hips to flush against his body. “Shuttup.” he playful murmured placing another light kiss to your lips. “Spirits I missed you.” Your hands fiddled with the golden wrap tucked around his waist, slowly unraveling the cloth from its knot. “The comet- This whole battle everyone is talking about...” you whispered-- eyes avoiding his, “It’s tomorrow isn’t it?” Zuko rolled onto his back, skimming a hand through his hair. He exhaled anxiously.

“Yea...”

“Are you going to stay here? Help take back Ba Sing Se?”

“No.”

You lightly leaned onto his chest, “Where will you go?” you questioned. His hand came up to caress a strand of your hair. “ I have to confront my sister. Someone needs to be at the capital... To take over the fire nation once this war is finished once and for all.” His hand slid to your cheek, rubbing his thumb against the side of your face. “Come with me.” your eyes widened at his sudden offer as he begged, “I can’t defeat her alone. And when its all over you can live in the Fire Nation. With me.”

“I- I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“I can’t”

“Why not?”

You could tell he was serious. He stared at you, waiting for an answer. “I just- My duty is here... I have to help get my city back. Get my father back.” He groaned, throwing his head back. “You’re right, you’re right.” he murmured folding his hands behind his head. You crawled up his body, turning his chin to look at you. “Hey.” a low hum echoed from his body as he grunted in response.

“I’m going to follow you no matter what. Once I’m done here I’m getting on the first boat to the fire nation.”

“D’you promise?”

You laid you head against his chest, tucking your hand through the opening of his tunic to rest on his midriff, “Promise” you whispered as he wrapped his hands around you. “Good.”

Tag List: @11mb0 @svgakookie @coldlilheart