#have I told you how much of a fan I am of their banter | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

reidmania · 4 months ago

Text

cinema seven | s.reid

summary; spencer goes to see a movie in cinema with derek, when cinema seven breaks down, he offers to help the pretty — all too stressed manger (who he has been too nervous to ask out) fix the projectors.

warnings; guys this fic is actually just for me. cinema manger reader, fem reader, they lowkey break rules but we don’t talk about that, probably boy band haired reid and ooc spencer bc they flirt or banter idk, fluff!! So much fluff!!spencer has been pinning for a while

an; i am a cinema manger 😐 cinema seven is making me want to die because of the bloody projectors breaking constantly. this is probably soo ooc, and also like uncorrectly timed bc it based off how cinema’s are now, not how they were. Whoops. this has been in my drafts for weeks and i hate it.

Dimly low lights lit the theatre room, couples, families and other guests filling the space of the soft red velvet chairs set aligned, finding their seats as the advertisement’s played over the big screen in front of them, the stairs lit with small red lights to ensure everyone knew where they were going, and to ensure nobody missed a step under the dim lit lights.

The room smelt strongly of sweet buttered popcorn, and whatever antiseptic spray had been used to wipe down the cupholders of the seats when being cleaned in between movie sessions, the smell sent a small wave of reassurance over Spencer.

Spencer had never been a massive fan of cinemas, he preferred watching his documentaries or show’s from his couch at home, curled up in blankets, in an area he knew was completely sanity, away from the public and in his own space. However, lately Derek had been inviting him to the cinema more and more after he agreed the first time.

He didn’t necessarily mind, and he knew why Derek had continued to invite him — which was the reason he didn’t mind so much. The first time they had come to the cinema apparently they had picked a bad time, since it was absolutely packed the minute they arrived.

Thats when Spencer had seen you, working on one of the till’s. He had been to the cinema before, but he had never seen you before. As they got closer and the queue shortened, he was able to read the small ‘manger’ badge that hug off the lanyard around your neck.

Explained why he hadn’t seen you at the front before.

His palms had grown clammy as the line grew shorter, whatever Derek had been talking about was completely lost on Spencer, his gaze was locked on your pretty face smiling at a young kid who — spencer assumed — was blabbering about something, hardly coherent over the noise of the people around, but you smiled and nodded none the less as you handed the parents boxes of popcorn.

That was the first time he went to the cinema’s with Derek. Derek had watched the boy stumble over his words as he spoke to you when you served them, cheeks flushing and his gaze never meeting yours for two long. You had laughed and told him to take his time as you wiped down the benches, listening intently. He had taken note of the way you juggled tasks all at once, making popcorn, serving, cleaning.

He had been three times since, the second time wasn’t with Derek, and he honestly didn’t really want to see a movie, he just wanted to see you, unfortunately you weren’t working and he was left seeing a movie he didn’t actually want to watch.

Derek teased the boy endlessly, about his cinema crush. Which was why him and Derek were here now. Again, a movie Spencer had no interest in, but it was busy enough that you would have to be working tills. That was enough to justify seeing a boring film to Spencer.

He had seen you, you had served them and when you smiled widely with recognition of their faces Spencer felt like he was about to pass out with how hard his head was beating. Now he was sitting in the cinema, next to Derek who was shovelling handfuls of popcorn into his mouth before the movie had actually even started.

It was only about five minutes into the actual film when the sound had dropped out.

It was another five minutes before people started talking, before someone had stood up to leave the cinema. Then another two minutes before a worker — not you, a different one, came in and looked over the screen before talking into a hand held radio.

People were growing frustrated, annoyed and restless in waiting. Fair enough, no one really wanted to see a film with no sound. However what made Spencer pinch his eyebrows together with a frown is when you did walk in, and there was someone else standing, obviously taking their frustration out on you.

Spencer looked at Derek, who looked at him at the same time, obviously noticing the interaction before the guy had returned to his seat in a frustrated huff. Then your voice rang out throughout the cinema as you stood to the side, Spencer watched from his seat as your hands toyed with the lanyard around your neck.

“Im really sorry about this guys— We’ve been having issues all day. Just give me a couple of minutes to try to fix the projector then I’ll put it back to before the sound went off, so you don’t miss anything.” You sounded stressed, clearly apologetic as you spoke. There were mumbling that went around the cinema. Spencer’s eyebrows furrowed as you ran your hand through your hair before turning to walk out.

Spencer— didn’t know what was going through his mind when he stood up and made his way down the stairs, ignoring the confused splutter from Derek. Spencer made his way out of the cinema, looking around at the foyer area, it didn’t take long to see you.

Standing there, you were talking to another customer, clearly stressed and in a rush but still respectful. He waited patiently before the customer thanked you and walked away. His feet worked quicker than his mind could when he walked up to you.

“Hi” he said gently. Your eyes lifted to his before you looked towards a doorway, you smiled softly. He stood in front of you, your hands continued to fidget, he noticed that, he noticed the way your cheeks were slightly flushed and a few baby hairs stuck to your forehead from sweat.

You wiped your cheek, “Hi- Cinema seven right? I promise I’m getting there — Im so sorry.” You apologised, his heart both warmed and ached for different reasons, one because you remembered what movie he had gone to see, and because you sounded so insanely overwhelmed. There was a slight shake in your tone, he noticed.

He nodded, “yeah- But uh- I just- What’s the issue?” He asked, he wanted to slap himself in the face for the way he stuttered over his words. He was embarrassing himself, and wasting your time and he knew he should probably just turn around and walk back to his seat but he couldn’t.

A sigh left your lips, “I honestly have no idea — all day the sound has just been going out, it works for a bit but it’s just — so annoying. I’ve tried restarting it like ten times — i can’t seen any obvious issue, I really am so sorry.” You continue to apologise, he hated that you were apologising for an issue that was out of your control, its not like you went and broke the projector.

“No- Its okay. I just — I could look at it — if you want? If thats okay? I just, uh.. know quite a bit about them..” He offered, because you looked so stressed and so overwhelmed and he just wanted to help in any way he possibly could. This was something he knew he could do, he was smart enough to figure it out.

You sighed and smiled gently at him, “Thats really nice and I would totally say yes — like i genuinely would but we can’t uh— have customers going up there.” You mumbled out, almost as if you were genuinely disappointed by the fact.

He nodded in understanding because it made sense, of course you couldn’t. Projectors weren’t cheap by any means and if you just let customers go up there then chances are they would all be broken within minutes.

“Im not- I work for the FBI, I-I can show you my badge.” He mumbled, hand already reaching out for his pocket to pull out his badge and flick it open. Now, Spencer didn’t use his job as a personal weapon often; however this was different. This was you, and you were oh so pretty.

He watched as your eyes trailed down his hands to his badge, reading over the information before your eyes flickered back up to his — you were considering it, he could basically see the mental debate you were having with yourself. He hoped you said yes, because if not then he had wasted an incredible amount of your time and was actually just stopping your from doing your job.

Then you huffed out a small breath of air, “You know what you’re doing?” You asked.

He nodded instantly, “If it helps I have an IQ of 187 and have three pHD’s?” He offered the information, not to impress but to provide some sort of comfort to the clear worry over your features.

Yours eyes met his and you just looked at him for a minute — trying to find any hint of dishonesty in his features, but when you didn’t you huffed out a small ‘okay.’ Before turning around, Spencer followed you.

His mind was spinning. If he thought he was flustered before now was something else. His skin felt so hot he wanted to dive into a pool of pure ice, despite knowing that it wouldn’t actually be nearly as enjoyable as it sounded right now.

“Please don’t make me regret this. And please— for the love of everything above, don’t break anything, i do not need to loose my job right now” you had mumbled as he followed you up the stairs after you unlocked the door. He smiled gently at your words and the trust you were putting in him, maybe it was naive and stupid if it was someone else who had bad intentions, but you took your chances with him.

Spencer steps up to the controls, eyeing the mess with a focused look, his fingers tracing over the switches and buttons like he’s reading a puzzle. “Wow,” he says after a beat. “This is… pretty old-school.”

You let out a short laugh, leaning against the doorway. “Yeah, tell me about it. I’m honestly surprised we haven’t had more breakdowns.”

He glances over at you, his expression softening. “You’ve been keeping this place running pretty well, considering.”

The compliment catches you off guard, and for a moment, you feel your face flush. You quickly shake it off and nod toward the panel. “So, you think you can fix it?”

Spencer nods confidently, already getting to work. He’s methodical as he checks the wires and makes adjustments, explaining the technicalities as he goes. You pretend to understand most of it, but really, you’re just watching him, impressed by how he seems to know exactly what to do.

After a few minutes of working in silence, he glances at you again. “You know,” he says with a small grin, “this isn’t the first time I’ve saved a situation with some quick rewiring.” He grows more comfortable under your gaze as time goes on, the nerves still fluttering through his body, he tries to keep his hands as steady as possible — because you were trusting him.

“Oh?” You raise an eyebrow, intrigued despite yourself.

“Yeah. One time, I had to disarm a bomb using only a circuit board and a pair of wire cutters.” He pauses, eyes sparkling with that same quiet confidence. “This is a little less stressful.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “I should hope so.”

The conversation continues like that—light, easy, playful. and the tension you’ve been feeling all evening starts to melt away. There’s something about his calm demeanor that puts you at ease, like you can trust him to handle things, not just here, but in general. It’s a strange feeling, but a good one.

Finally, he steps back from the panel, brushing his hands together. “That should do it.”

You blink, glancing at the screen where the sound has suddenly returned, loud and clear. “You fixed it?”

“Looks like it,” he says, his voice soft but full of satisfaction.

A wave of relief washes over you. You hadn’t realized just how tightly wound you’d been until now. You smile, unable to hold back your gratitude. “Thank you. Seriously, you have no idea how much this helps.”

Spencer shrugs, looking a little bashful. “It’s nothing, really.”

But it’s not nothing. You can feel that. He’s helped you out, more than just with the projector, and the gratitude in your chest grows warmer.

You glance at him, hesitating. He can see it in your gaze, your eyes are on his, a warm smile on your face. He has to stop his mind from drifting away.

“I don’t know how to thank you,” you say, your voice softer now, more personal. “Is there anything I can do— Free tickets, do you need more popcorn?— That doesn’t do it justice. If there’s anything I can do to make it up to you, please let me know” You rambled and his heart fluttered.

There’s a pause, just long enough for you to wonder what he’s thinking. Then, he meets your eyes, his expression a mix of uncertainty and hope. “How about a date?”

The question hangs in the air, and your heart skips a beat.

It takes a moment to process what he’s asking, but when you do, you feel a smile tugging at your lips. “You’re asking me out?”

He nods, looking more nervous than you’ve ever seen him. “If you’re free. I’d really like to take you out sometime.”

You furrow your eyebrows slightly, hands coming back up to fumble with the lanyard on your neck — for maybe the hundredth time. You look over his face as id you don’t believe him for a moment before you let out a breathy laugh, and for a moment his heart dropped with the idea of rejection.

“Yeah- Yeah. I’d like that.” You said. And he felt like the wind had been knocked out of him.

Spencer liked the cinema’s a lot more now.

502 notes · View notes

gotta-winwin · 26 days ago

Text

(💬) ... vernon chwe x reader

⭐ starring: vernon

💬 preview: the seemingly 'extraterrestrial' man that occupies Cubicle #218 cannot seem to take a hint - no matter how many flashing signs you throw at him.

tw/cw: fluff, corporate vernon, vernon is an oblivious lil shit, allusions to sex, quotes from b.e.d by Jacquees, shameless flirting and banter

based on an ask (hi + thanks for requesting!) as well as b.e.d by Jacquees MDNI

🪽fic rating/wc: pg 13/ 3.5k

☁️ masterlist & a/n: i am forever stuck in this vernon loop - alas, here's a request that's been sitting in my inbox for awhile, brewing vernon thoughts the whole time. although this fic is entirely fluff, there are allusions to sex so please be mindful of your age and the fic rating.

Vernon would have quit his job a long time ago if it hadn’t been for you. A part of him still yearned for the stage, a trusty guitar in his hands and the sound of diehard fans screaming his name. Instead, he had found himself stuck, circling the corporate ladder, clocking in to work everyday just to sit in his one lonely cubicle, staring at numbers he had only pretended to understand when getting his degree.

He had his resignation letter signed and ready to go, and he would have handed it in if it hadn’t been for the notes that had begun to appear.

Colorful post-it notes that he’d find in the most random places - first his desk, then his lunchbox, in the pocket of his coat, stuck dead center on his computer screen. It baffled him, yet the notes kept coming, every single day of work without fail. At first he had scoffed, chalking it up to some silly office prank, but as time progressed, the notes became almost a given, as if the notes itself had rooted into his everyday routine. It filled him with anticipation and a reason to clock in everyday. As much as he hesitated to admit it, the silly notes made his day.

Of course, the notes were anonymous. Vernon had no idea that you were the reason he still showed up to work.

“This is basically workplace harassment.” Anne, your closest co-worker, commented, as she watched you pen your next note to Vernon. She was the only one who knew it was you behind the colorful post-its.

“If he didn’t like it he would’ve told HR months ago.” You argued, ripping the completed note off the pad of bright orange post-its. “Besides, you’ve seen him smile at the notes. Even got a laugh out of him a couple times.”

“But-” Anne snatched the note from you and read it aloud. “I hope our love will be like the number Pi: irrational and endless.” She shook her head, tsking. “Even for a compsci major, Y/N, Vernon would never find this funny. And if he does- he’s either mocking you, or his humor is just as broken as yours.”

“It’s funny!” You protested, snatching the note back. “Besides, I don’t even know where to leave this one. I’m running out of creative ideas.”

“What’s the point? You just need him to see it, right?”

You gave her a look. “There’s a higher probability of him laughing if he doesn’t expect the note. The less obvious the place, the better. He can’t be actively looking for it.”

Anne sighed, spinning her chair back to face her work desk. “Compsci nerds.”

Ignoring her, you continued. “I’m torn between leaving it taped to his water bottle, or taped to his bike.”

“Of course Cubicle Number 218 Vernon Chwe would bike to work.” Anne rolled her eyes. “How old is this man? Can’t he drive?”

“Hey!” You protested once again, defending him. “Maybe he just lives close, more cost-efficient you know.”

Anne sighed. “Tape it to his bike.” Her fingers tapped against her keyboard as she spoke. “He’s definitely not going to be expecting that one.”

Your smile widened, already imagining his little stunned expression. “Okay. Cover for me- I’ll be right back.”

“Whatever.” Anne mumbled, although you caught a glance of the amused smile on her face.

It was famously known throughout your office that the resident of Cubicle #218, Hansol Vernon Chwe, did not smile. He came into work and left while sporting the exact same facial expression the entire time. But you knew he smiled at your silly pick-up lines, no matter how stupid. And you knew that you might be the only person who knew just how pretty Vernon’s laugh was- even if it was from a distance.

If only you knew just how much Vernon wanted to know who was behind the silly notes that were his pick-me-up each day.

You: 1 Vernon: 0

“I wanna live in your socks so I can be with you every step of the way.”

Vernon snorted audibly as he read the note, this time written on a hot pink post-it. His neighbouring co-workers snuck glances at him, drawn by the sudden noise.

He ignored their stares, tucking the note into his jacket pocket for later. He was slowly amassing a collection of them, his desk back at home covered in multicolored post-its, each one from a different day. Sometimes the lines would be so terrible he’d shudder in cringe, but more often than not, he’d find them genuinely funny.

Grabbing a file he needed faxed, Vernon made his way to the copier down the hall. Someone was already occupying it- and he realized he recognized her, the pretty girl who lived in cubicle #17.

He could hear the loud music coming from her headphones, poorly hidden under her strands of hair.

“Charli?” He asked, recognizing the familiar beats and rhythm of the song.

He watched you turn around to face him, startled by his sudden appearance. “What?”

He pointed awkwardly to your headphones. “Is that Charli XCX? I didn’t think your name was Charli, don’t worry. It’s Y/N, right?” He rambled on, smiling sheepishly.

You blinked, a little dazed by the amount of words he was suddenly speaking to you. You had always thought, like everyone else in the office, that Vernon was somehow untouchable. Someone so mysterious and way out of reality that the two of you just didn’t exist on the same plane of the universe. But now here he was, talking to you like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“Yeah.” You answered, after realizing you had just been blankly staring at him. “To both questions.” You quickly added, equally awkward. “It’s Charli XCX and my name is Y/N.”

“Great.” His gaze drifted past you towards the copier. “Are you nearly done?” Holding up the file in his hand, he gestured behind you. “I need to fax something.”

“Oh!” Hurriedly moving aside, you let out a tiny laugh. “I wasn’t really using it. Sometimes I just come in here and pretend I’m busy- to get away from how stuffy the office is. I don’t know why I just told you that.” You were mortified, glancing at him to make sure he wasn’t judging you.

Vernon’s lips were quirked into a smirk, as he tried hard to push down the laughter that was threatening to bubble up inside of him. Ultimately failing, his mouth widened into a smile as he laughed, the sound filling your ears better than any song could.

“I like you.” He stated, as if it was such a simple thing and didn’t have your heart racing. “You’re funny.”

His smile widened once he caught sight of your open mouth, stunned into silence at the new side of Mr. Cubicle #218 you were currently seeing.

“Close your mouth.” He mumbled, reaching a hand out to do it for you, his fingertips lightly pressing against your jaw. “You look like a fish.”

“I- what?” You spluttered, moving a step back.

Vernon shot you another melting smile, picking up his file and closing the copier. “Anyways, I’m all done. Are you going to hide out here some more?” He kept his eyes on you as he stacked the papers in his hands, organizing them against a nearby table.

You nodded dumbly, eyes following his movement as he walked out, stopping by the doorway to shoot you a tiny salute before turning away. He walked down the hall with a gait only he had, disappearing down the hallway, leaving you feeling extremely confused, your cheeks oddly warm.

You: 1 Vernon: 1

“Are you a worm? Cause I’d like to split you apart.”

Morbid, yes, but you were slowly running out of ideas. Placing the sticky note strategically in his work bag, you scurried off, ducking behind a bookshelf to watch his reaction.

“Are you a worm-” Vernon made a face as he read the note aloud. “Ew. Weird. Kinky?” He looked up at the ceiling, a concerning yet intrigued look on his face. A chuckle escaped him and you smiled in your success.

Your work days seemed to blow right by with the joy in knowing you had successfully made him laugh, mind still churning through your last encounter with Vernon by the copier a couple weeks ago. It had both startled you and ignited something within- a longing to know more about him.

“Looks like we’re the only ones left.”

You looked up, blinking your dry and strained eyes, spotting Vernon hovering right above your cubicle wall, a tired expression filling his face. You glanced around the office and realized he was right.

“Has it already been that long?” You wondered, rubbing your eyes as you shut off your computer, standing up to stretch your stiff back.

You could’ve sworn Vernon snorted at your words. “Do you enjoy working here? Time does fly when you’re having fun.”

You shook your head. “God, no. I’ve just got a lot on my mind, that’s all.” Yeah, you.

An unspeakable look crossed his face as he grabbed your coat, helping you put it on. “C’mon, we can walk together.”

“Oh. Thanks- alright.”

The walk was amicably silent as you fell in step beside him, clutching your winter coat tightly as you both entered against the harsh wind. You spotted his banged up yellow bike across the street and bit back a grin.

“You bike to work and back?” You asked, although you already knew the answer. You often passed him on your own way to work, spotting him through the windshield of your car. Nearly ran him over once, in your earlier days of working, but you don’t speak of that.

“I do.” Vernon patted the trusty bike with a loving hand. “Never failed me once.”

A laugh escaped you, your breath hitting the winter wind and turning into a light fog.

His eyebrows raised. “Are you laughing at me?” His lips quivered up as he watched you descend into laughter once again.

“No!” You exclaimed through a fit of giggles, clutching your stomach. “Oh god, it’s just- Vernon Chwe- on a bike-”

A clear and infectious cackle of a laugh joined yours as Vernon too, doubled over in laughter. You paused, staring wide-eyed as giggles escaped him, thoroughly entertained by the amusement you had found in his transportation method.

Passerbys would have deemed the pair of you as mad, with the way you clutched onto Vernon’s arm to hold yourself up as you laughed harder, his own hand gripping yours in the bitter wind. It was numbingly cold but both of your insides were warm, cheeks flushed due to the ridiculous image of Vernon on a bike.

Y/N: 1 Vernon: 1 The universe(?): 1

“Yo.”

Your music paused suddenly, jolting you out of your zone. Spinning around in your chair, you frowned up at Vernon, who had somehow swiped your phone from your desk without you noticing.

“What’s up?” You sighed, taking off your headphones to glare at him. “You didn’t need to pause my music, y’know.”

“I’ve been sent on a coffee run, wanna come?” He spread his arms open in invitation. “We can take as long as we like.”

Ditching work for a while did sound like a nice pastime, especially with the lack of work you had currently. “I wouldn’t mind a breath of fresh air, actually. I’m down.”

“Put on your coat.” Vernon handed it to you, watching as you shrugged it on.

“I know you want to be in my b.e.d, grinding slowly.”

The last note had taken him terribly off guard and he needed a distraction to remedy that.

To be fair, you didn’t really know what had gotten into you- the sudden bravado and confidence put into the note had caught you terribly off guard as well.

“Do you know Joshua? He works in upper management but we’re pretty good friends.” Vernon suddenly asked, walking backwards along the sidewalk so he could look at you.

You nodded. “I’ve seen him around. He’s very social.” Unlike you, you declined to add.

“Yes. He’s hosting a social gathering later tonight, and asked if I could invite you.”

“He asked you to invite me?” You shot him a wary look, not quite believing him. You and Joshua barely passed as acquaintances.

Vernon’s hand reached behind his neck as he rubbed his nape, a sheepish and embarrassed expression on his face. You noticed his ears would turn pink whenever he was even mildly shy. “Okay, maybe I just wanted to invite you, alright?” He turned away, walking properly now to hide his face from your keen eyes.

A slow smile crossed your face. “Oh, no.” You mimed dread. “You’re in love with me, aren’t you.”

“What?” Vernon turned so fast you reckoned he must’ve gotten whiplash.

“I’m joking.” Punching his arm lightly, you gave him a lighthearted smile, ignoring the way your heart pounded at the brunt question. “I’d love to go to the little party. You didn’t have to use Joshua to invite me.”

“Well,” Vernon’s ears turned pink once again. “I’d say I’d pick you up and give you a ride home after, but- I don’t think we’d both fit on my bike.”

Both your lips twitched at the reminder of that night, where the two of you had laughed like it was the first time either one of you had found anything remotely funny.

“I’ll drive.” You offered, once the wave of silent laughter dissipated. “You can hitch your bike to the back of my car.”

“Me,” Vernon’s mouth dropped comically as he pressed his hands to his chest. “A passenger princess? How lucky.”

His smile widened as you laughed, and he shamelessly basked in the sound of it.

Y/N: 2? Vernon: 2? The universe: 1

The smell of musk was the first thing that hit you as the two of you entered Joshua’s townhouse. It was a small, quaint place, decorated to the brim with trinkets and flower pots, overflowing with both people and food. Vernon led the way as you shuffled in, greeting familiar faces and smiling at strangers.

“I thought you said ‘small gathering.’” You yelled, tiptoed next to Vernon so you could reach his ear.

You could tell from his eyes that he had no idea what you were saying. “What?” He yelled back, although his voice was carried away by the crowd as well.

“I said-” You felt like you might burst a lung trying to communicate. “I thought you said, ‘small gathering!’”

He stared at you blankly, blinking slowly, evidently still not in the loop.

Giving up, you were about to turn away when you suddenly felt his whole body shake, quivering against you as he laughed.

“What the fuck?” You yelled, this time right in his face.

“I heard you the first time, silly.” He yelled back, a shit-eating grin spreading wider as he watched your eyebrows furrow.

“Party Vernon sucks.” You concluded, moving away, only to be pulled back by his hand on your arm.

“Didn’t you complain that I was too ‘mysterious’?” He yelled, laughing harder when you visibly paled. “Yeah, I heard that. But it’s okay. I am very…how did you put it. Sullen, at work.”

Hiding your face, you slapped his chest, causing him to groan in pain.

“Ow.”

“Ow.” You mocked back. There really was no answer as to where the sudden childishness came from, but the way Vernon was staring at you- it made reason seem almost meaningless.

He threw his head back and laughed, soundless against the party’s atmosphere but somehow just as electrifying.

“Have fun, Y/N.” He said, grabbing your hands. “Let’s dance.”

Y/N: 2 Vernon: 3 The universe: 1

You had always sworn by the fact that driving late at night with the windows down, cold air blowing through your hair was the way to go.

“Admit it!” Vernon yelled through the wind, glancing at you from the passenger seat. “You had fun tonight.”

“I did.” You admitted. The party had been overwhelming at first, but the later the night got, the more fun you discovered yourself to have. “I haven’t had a night like that in a while.”

You braked at a red light and flipped through your playlist, switching on the one song you knew would get a reaction out of Vernon.

“I know you wanna love But I just wanna fuck And girl, you know the deal I gotta keep it real I know you wanna see I know you wanna be In my B.E.D., grinding slowly”

The light turned green and you continued to drive, the roads empty and deserted, street lamps illuminating the world in a soft amber. Occasionally, you’d glance over at Vernon, who was bopping his head to the beat, murmuring the lyrics under his breath.

Oblivious man.

Reaching over, you turned the volume up, as if the louder the music was, it’d somehow reverberate its message into his skull. Get a hint! You wanted to scream at him. I’m kind of in love with you and want to jump your bones! Hello??

Vernon continued to groove to the music without a care in the world.

“This is a good song!” He yelled in your ear, his voice mixed with the whistling of the air, whooshing past you.

“I know!” You screamed back. Oh my god. Is he really this dense?

The song kept playing as you drove, winds calming down as you neared his place. In between the gap of the song switching to the next, Vernon spoke, his calm voice contrastingly the loudness before.

“I think I’m going to quit the job.”

You nearly crashed the car at his words, jerking the steering wheel back as you computed his words. “What?”

“I mean,” he turned in his seat to face you, his hair catching the last pieces of moonlight and shimmering against his skin. “I’ve always hated my job. And I already wrote a resignation letter and everything.”

“Oh.”

He must’ve noticed your silence, because he quickly continued. “Who knows? I might try being a rockstar or something.”

“A rockstar?” You let out an astonished laugh. Vernon Chwe seemed to be surprising you at every turn, even when you felt like you'd already figured him out.

He hummed. “Yeah. It just keeps..calling me, y’know?”

“Well then you should go for it.” You parked into the driveway of his apartment complex and turned to face him. “Really.”

“You think so?” His eyes were sparkling like precious jewels.

“Yeah. I do.”

Even though you knew that meant your next note would be your last.

Y/N: -10 Vernon: 3 The universe: -10

The office seemed even colder without the presence of Vernon around you. Even though he had always kept to himself, you could feel the lack of “Vernon” in the atmosphere. How he’d entrance you with the funny way he’d walk down the hall, his countless snack breaks and your shared copier trips. But most of all- it was the lack of notes.

“First day without Mr. Cubicle Number 218, how do you feel?” Anne asked you from her own desk. “Although, I guess he’s not 218 anymore, huh?”

“Yeah.” You stared dejectedly at your computer screen. “This job sucks.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re quitting too.” Anne let out a loud sigh. “I still think you should’ve told him you liked him.”

“I did!” You protested, rather loudly, drawing odd looks from nearby coworkers.

“You played a sex song in the car.” Anne pointed out, lowering her voice. “That is not confessing.”

“Well he should’ve put two and two together. The lyrics on the note was from that song.”

Anne laughed. “We’re talking about the male species. They wouldn’t know subtlety if it ran them over with a truck.”

“Whatever.” You muttered, returning to sulk in front of your giant mountain of paperwork. “He definitely didn’t like me like that anyways.” Sifling through the papers, you sighed. “I’m going to fax these, I’ll be right back.”

Anne only hummed, too engrossed by whatever she was reading on her phone.

Opening up the copier, you frowned at the paper already sitting there, a hot pink post-it note with messy handwriting scrawled on it.

“With all the variables in life, baby can you be my constant?”

You didn’t remember writing this.

“Call me ;)”

A loud laugh escaped you as you covered your mouth, looking around to make sure you hadn’t been caught loitering in the copy room once again. Grabbing your phone from your pocket you fumbled the numbers on the bottom of the note in, raising it to your ear as you listened to it ring.

“Hello?” You whispered, cupping your hand around your mouth to avoid detection.

Silence.

“Vernon?”

The sound of shuffling from the other line reached your ears. “You didn’t think I was just going to leave without saying goodbye, right?”

“Vernon?”

“Actually, pretend I didn’t say that.”

Your heart puttered to a stop.

“When can I see you again?”

Y/N: 0 Vernon: ♾️ The universe: 0

#vernon being a lil shit is my love language #svthub #seventeen imagines #svt #svt imagines #seventeen #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #svt fluff #seventeen fic #seventeen vernon #vernon x you #vernon x reader #svt vernon #vernon #seventeen fluff #svt fanfic #svt scenarios

345 notes · View notes

formulawolff · 8 months ago

Text

x. bringing the heat in miami - t.w.

pairing: female driver! x toto wolff

word count: 3.6k

warnings: cursing, mentions of sex, mentions of masturbation, lewd humor, age gap relationship, ANGST, naughty text messages, banter, light flirting, toto being down astronomically bad (like actually in the trenches) yadayadayada

prev. | next.

party in the city where the heat is on

all night, on the beach till the break of dawn

“welcome to miami”

“bienvenidos a miami"

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

will smith’s infamous track fills your ears as you stroll in through the main gate of the track, fans clustered in thick waves. your name is called more times than you can count. posters, caps, shirts, you name it, wave about, begging to be signed.

the sun shines overhead, casting bright, fiery light all around. although it was only around eight in the morning, humidity clung to the air, creating a sticky, dewy sensation on your exposed skin. fluffy clouds drift along, carried by a breeze as it rolls through.

god, the weather was perfect.

hopefully it would be like this on race day.

“welcome to miamiiii,” alex bobs his head, singing along to the music, “are you excited? it is your home turf, after all.”

“if we were in phoenix, i think i would feel a little closer to home,” you suppress a giggle, “but yes, i am really fucking excited. everyone loves a race in their home country.”

“we’ll be in austin soon enough in october,,” alex shrugs, “when we’re in austin, i need you to show me how to ride a bull and teach me how to perfect that smooth texas drawl. i want to be like one of those little aunties who always say, ‘y’all come back now!’ like dolly parton! ”

“you’re ridiculous,” the giggles blossom into a full-on laugh, “you don’t just start speaking with a southern accent. that’s not how that works.”

“sure it is,” alex nods, “hey, your parents are coming out for the race, right?”

“yes sir! they will finally get to see their baby girl in action!”

“they didn’t come out for a single grand prix last year?” alex raises a brow.

“i wasn’t winning races last year,” you counter, “i told them not to worry about spending that money during my rookie year. not everyone’s parents are loaded, you know.”

which, was a true statement.

your parents had invested their time, hard-earned cash, weekends off, and a portion of their lives to get you here. you didn’t expect them to fly out for every single grand prix, make every event, or pay another dime towards your expenses.

unlike many of the drivers, you were not born into an extremely lavish lifestyle. your parents were modest people, who happened to have a child later in life. ever since you were born, they lived in the same house, drove the same vehicles, and got by adequately. since they both worked full-time, getting you into the racing world was no simple feat.

yet, they were determined to make your dreams become a reality. after years of careful coordination to the karting tracks, weekends devoted to races, and thousands upon thousands of dollars spent, you were offered a contract with williams racing. of course, you accepted that offer graciously.

now, you were steadily paying your parents back for their dedication. once you signed your contract and those zeroes hit your bank account, you went out to the nearest dealership, purchasing a suburu wrx. with the premium package, at that.

you would never forget your dad’s face the moment you pulled into the driveway, beaming as you placed the keys in his hand.

that was one of the only moments you had ever watched him cry, wrapping you up in a tight, loving embrace.

“you didn’t have to do this. being your father is a gift in itself.”

“but you deserve it. you’ve sacrificed so much so that i could be in this position.”

“and you deserve nothing but the best, baby girl. you are going to be one of the greatest drivers formula one has ever seen. you make us so proud. keep making us proud. keep defying those odds. keep making history, baby girl.”

keep making history, baby girl.

as you stroll into the paddock, greeting the engineers, pit crew, and other team members, you can’t shake that feeling brewing deep within.

it’s is a fiery desire, setting you ablaze with determination.

you were going to keep making history.

you were going to be the first american to win the miami grand prix.

you were going to be the first woman to win two consecutive grand prixes.

you were going to be the first woman to earn that title of world champion.

you were going to chase that high. by any means possible.

and nothing was going to stop you now.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

“look at him,” lewis hamilton shakes his head, “he looks absolutely pitiful.”

“you think his little relationship is on the rocks?”

“quite the contrary mate,” lewis remarks, folding his arms across his chest, “i think it’s more like the poor man is depraved. obviously the euphoria has worn off. he’s come down from that high. the man is craving more. plain and simple. a hand can only do–”

“i don’t need the mental image of my team principal wanking off,” george russell scoffs, rubbing his temple, “fuck, that is disgusting, lewis.”

toto wolff stood a few meters away from the drivers, engaged in deep conversation with bono and members of the crew. now that lewis knew the truth, he couldn’t help but notice how much power that american girl held over the team principal. it was almost as if he were deep in a trance, under some sort of spell.

it was pitiful, really. just the sight of her was enough to send the team principal spiraling, intoxicated off her alluring aura. not like lewis could blame toto, though. there was no denying that the woman was extremely breathtaking.

with her stunning features, witty mouth, unapologetic personality, and angelic presence, she was practically miss america.

well, not practically.

she was miss america.

everyone adored her. lewis could barely go throughout his morning without hearing her name being mentioned. whether it was fans, journalists, social media, even members of the mercedes crew, she was the hot topic of formula one, taking the world by storm.

toto was a lucky man. an extremely lucky man.

if only she was into men her age.

“my apologies mate,” lewis nudges george with his elbow playfully, “did we have anything going on today? any obligations?”

george’s brow furrow, sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose, “if we’re being honest, i can’t really remember. i think something to do with monster energy, maybe.”

“perfect,” lewis licks his lower lip, fishing his phone out of his pocket.

time to text that little assistant.

in all seriousness, he felt horrible for taking advantage of that young girl. she was only nineteen for fuck’s sakes, a fresh face to mercedes at the start of the 2024 season. that made her the perfect target to do his bidding.

well, it wasn’t really bidding.

more like investigative journalism.

at least, that’s what lewis told himself to feel a little less guilty for what he was about to do.

hey, do you by chance know toto’s schedule today?

seconds later, little text bubbles appear.

he was meeting with you guys this morning, then he has an interview with the press around two-thirty p.m. it’s nothing super serious, just a brief session entailing his thoughts for the weekend. at four, he has a zoom call with a few of the mercedes execs. after that, he told me he was going to be out for the remainder of the evening. why?

hmmm. how convenient.

i was just curious. thanks for letting me know! i appreciate you, natila.

of course, mr. hamilton! let me know if you need anything else! :)))

it was now or never. go time.

after the meeting with the mercedes executives, lewis hamilton was going to knock on toto wolff’s door. he was going to stroll into that office, settling into one of those plush leather chairs. and before toto had the opportunity to speak, lewis was going to confront him about that american girl.

how he was going to start that conversation, he had no idea. that would come to him in time as he went about his day, meeting with sponsors, flashing that lovely lewis smile, flirting with the reporters just a little. not too much so that it was obvious, but enough to make them blush a tad, giggling as they scrambled to stick to their script.

but for now, it was time to focus on the matters at hand.

across the track, a dutch driver strolls through the crowds, a jersey in one hand, phone in the other. glancing down at his screen, he curses under his breath at the throng of people. why were there so many people? where did they all come from?

pausing for a moment, he taps his screen, thumb gliding through his contacts.

“hey, where are you again?”

“we’re in the williams paddock!” her voice is an octave higher than usual, more than likely from anticipation, “we’ll see you soon!”

“sounds good,” max verstappen stifles a chuckle as he hears a voice on the other end, the words firm, demanding almost.

“honey, who are you talking to? who’s coming over here?”

“mom, please, just let me be on the phone for two seconds,” she exhales, “okay, i have to go. i’ll see you soon!”

the walk to the williams paddock was excruciating, as max had to bob and weave through the masses to avoid reporters, potential sponsors, and any individual who called his name. it’s not like he didn’t like the fame that came with his success, it’s just that he didn’t like the constant cameras in his face. the prying questions. the intrusive comments.

sometimes he wished he could just blend in, be like any other face in the crowd. yet, how could he when he was max verstappen?

yet, as he steps into the paddock, he makes out the williams driver, her parents hovering around her as she introduces them to various members of the crew. at the sight, max can’t help but feel the corners of his lips curl into a smile as he notices the sheer and utter pride plastered across their faces.

and they had every right to be proud of you.

you earned it.

“goedemorgen,” max clears his throat, raising his hand for a small wave, “i just came to stop by.”

the instant your mom realizes who is standing before her in the paddock, her eyes widen, lips parting, “oh my gosh – honey. look who it is!”

“good morning max,” your laughter rings like bells as you cross over to the dutch driver, “how are you?”

“pretty good,” he nods, sticking out his right hand, “hallo, i’m max.”

your dad shakes his hand, squeezing it firmly, “nice to meet ya, max. i’m tony. this is my wife, heather.”

“pleased to meet you,” max beams, turning to your mom, “i brought something for you today. your daughter mentioned that you were a big fan of mine. so, i brought this jersey for you. she let me know your shirt size, so it should fit perfectly. my signature is on there somewhere, but i just can’t quite remember where.”

graciously, heather accepts the jersey, her eyes glossy, shifting to you as she wipes a tear, “oh, honey, you planned this?”

“of course i did,” wrapping an arm around her shoulders, you pull her in for a hug, “i couldn’t bear the thought of you guys attending the race without meeting any of my friends. besides, you deserve an all-inclusive experience at your first grand prix.”

“besides,” max shoots you a wink, “i wanted to meet the woman who crafted such a talented driver.”

at max’s compliment, your mom’s face flushes, “oh please! i can barely make it on the freeway without having a nervous breakdown. i don’t know how she can drive these things. it amazes me how confident she is and–.”

“i could show you,” max offers, “i have some free time tomorrow. i’m sure we could all meet up somewhere and i could take you for a spin, show you the ropes. how does that sound?”

“oh max,” your mom waves a hand, “you do not–”

“but i want to. it’s no issue. no issue at all.”

“then it’s a plan,” you can’t help but grin as your moms’ eyes light up, “what time works for you, max? since it’s only thursday, we’ll have some time in the morning before the practice laps. or, we could go after. whatever works for you.”

“let’s go in the morning,” max suggests, checking his phone, “i think i can make a few calls. have someone bring in a car. we’ll take it out on the track.”

“is that allowed?” your mom arches a brow, “i just don’t want you two to get in any sort of trouble.

“oh mom,” you roll your eyes playfully, gesturing to max, “that is max verstappen. whatever max verstappen wants, max verstappen gets.”

“she’s not wrong.”

“okay fine,” your mom nods, and you feel a giggle forming at her overprotective nature.

“just don’t give me a heart attack out there, max. i have a very important race to watch on sunday.”

as your parents talk to max, alex making his way into the conversation, you feel the buzz of your phone in your pocket. carefully, you fish it out, ensuring to shield your screen from your mom’s wandering gaze.

this is unbearable. i need to see you tonight. are you going to have any free time? i vaguely recall you mentioning that your parents were going to be here. i will take no offense if you would like to spend time with them. i know you do not get to see them often.

i need to be inside you, schatzi. i can’t think straight right now because the only thing i can think about is fucking that perfect pussy of yours.

i miss my golden girl. more than anything.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

“lewis? this is a pleasant surprise.”

“how’s it going mate?” lewis hamilton bears a quaint smile as he settles into a chair, face-to-face with the team principal, “things going well?”

“eh,” toto shrugs, his head bowed as he types away on his phone, “same old shit, you know.”

“things going well with the horseback rider?”

oh, so he wasn’t going to drop it. silently, toto curses the attentive nature of his british driver, “they’re fine.”

“so,” lewis leans back, folding his arms across his chest, “when were you going to fess up and admit that your little girlfriend doesn’t ride horses?”

“i don’t understand what you–”

lewis scoffs, clicking his tongue, “i know exactly who your little girlfriend is because she’s a few spaces ahead of me on the grid.”

shit.

the expression painting lewis’ features is brimmed with satisfaction, his gaze piercing right through the team principal as he shifts uneasily in his desk chair, running a hand through his hair.

toto was well aware that lewis had completely blindsided him, pinning him in a corner. it was quite literally perfect timing, as the team principal was merely minutes away from organizing his things, shutting down his computer, and heading out the door, well on his way to his golden girl.

well played, lewis. well played.

yet, he had to maintain his composure. he had to maintain that poker face as lewis cocks his head, prompting him to formulate some sort of witty retort.

“i’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

“bullshit,” lewis shakes his head, “you’re not a very good liar, toto. you of all people should know that i can read you like a bloody book. how long has this been going on?”

well, he had to fess up now. lewis would continue to call him out on his shit if he kept up with the lies. letting out a shaky breath, the team principal hangs his head in defeat, his heart thumping against his rib-cage, wiping his damp palms on his slacks.

no going back now. time to come clean.

“since she won in jeddah. but if we’re being technical, it started in bahrain.”

“wait,” lewis sticks his hands up, squeezing his eyes shut, “pause. this has been going on since the start of the season? for weeks you’ve been sneaking around, meeting up with her in secret or something? was she the one who came to brackley between melbourne and suzuka?”

with all of the questions pouring from lewis’ mouth, toto’s mind reeled, a swirling torrent of anxiety, fear, and disappointment. his cheeks burn with shame, tinged pink.

“yes, she was.”

tilting his head, lewis’ lips purse, “you like her?”

“well isn’t that blatantly fucking obvious,” propping his elbows on the desk, he massages his temples with his fingers, “how did you find out?”

“it wasn’t hard,” lewis shrugs, “i mean, i see the way you look at her.”

toto’s eyes narrow at lewis’ vague response, “how. did. you. find. out?”

“natila texted me about it,” lewis coughs, averting the team principal’s beady stare, “she may have heard a conversation or two.”

“regarding?” toto presses, satisfaction pumping in his veins as lewis starts to crack, shifting in the chair, “come on, lewis. you can’t just march in here and demand answers from me without sharing your sources. what did natila hear?”

“she heard the entire conversation you had with the drive to survive crew while we were in suzuka. they mentioned that they had footage of you walking over to her motorhome. that’s all natila heard. don’t fire the poor girl,” the words were rushed, breathy, “it was my fault. i asked her what she heard. i told her i would pay her if she told me what she knew.”

“well,” toto blinks, swallowing thickly, “did you end up paying her?”

“only like five thousand.”

“that’s quite a large sum over something you could have just asked me about personally,” clasping his hands together, toto raises a brow, “why didn’t you just come to me instead?”

“because you got so fucking defensive the first time i asked about it!”

lewis did have a point.

a good point, at that.

it was not like the team principal would have withheld information regarding his developing relationship with the williams driver. it was more like he feared what would ensue if he did share what had transpired. he trusted lewis, he really did. additionally, it wasn’t like this was just some average woman. his career, her future, and so much more were at stake. the benefits of keeping it all under wraps greatly outweighed the risk of discovery.

more importantly, he was protective of his golden girl.

she was his little escape from it all. a breath of fresh air after excruciatingly long nights in the paddock or disappointing days on the track. she was his sun, shining her vivid, warm, golden rays into his dreary and dull life.

sure, toto was a billionaire. but money was not everything.

nearly every day, toto’s mind wandered to their time spent together in brackley. the way she felt against his skin. the way her shy smile was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. the way her fingers felt intertwined with his. the way her lashes fluttered as she slept, lips parted ever so slightly. the way his hands roamed her curves, relishing the softness of her.

that memory alone was worth far more than the number of zeroes in his bank account.

“you’re falling in love, aren’t you?”

lewis’ voice is low, dangerously quiet. yet, there’s a curious glint in his eyes, the bitterness and anger no longer present. his body language is more relaxed, legs crossed, the driver fiddling with his thumbs.

“i –” toto stutters, scrambling to find the right words, “yes, i am.”

“does she know?”

“no,” he inhales sharply, “she doesn’t.”

“you want to tell her though, don’t you?”

“it would just feel rushed,” the team principal dismisses lewis’ inquiry, his voice hardening, “i have to be realistic here. no one falls in love that quickly. that’s just petulant.”

“well look at it this way,” lewis offers, “if you’ve had your eye on her for some time, then it’s really not that rushed. clearly, if you’re feeling those emotions so deeply, then it’s accumulated over time. i don’t want to pry, but how long have you been attracted to her?”

“you don’t want to know,” a chuckle rumbles in the team principal’s chest, “it’s embarrassing, really.”

“no, no, no,” lewis tuts, “tell me, toto. how long?”

“december 2022, when she signed her contract with williams. when i saw that photo of her, i knew i had to have her. last summer, in monaco, i may have slipped up and approached her at the afterparty. i flirted with her, but she dismissed me. so, i kept my distance. however, it was just growing harder and harder to stay away. it was impulsive, that night in bahrain. but i wanted to make a move before anyone else got to her.”

as toto finishes, he can’t help but notice lewis’ smirk, “holy shit, toto. you’ve been wrapped around her finger for quite some time then, yeah?”

“i wouldn’t say that–” toto begins, clicking his tongue, yet, he’s swiftly cut off as a new figure cracks open the door.

george russell leans against the doorframe, arms folded across his chest. his lips are pressed together, forming a tightly wound frown.

“way to include me in the gossip session, guys. what did i miss? clearly, quite a lot. if you don’t mind, i would like to join the conversation. toto, would you start from the top? even though i’ve already heard most of it, when were you going to bring it to my attention that you were fucking that bloody williams driver?”

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

taglist: @younxii @toldyouitwasamelodrama @kravitzwhore @persona1lies @pucksandpower @k3ira13 @prettiest-at-the-party @martwll @annewithaneofthegreengable @zoeyjadetice2010 @sinners-98-world @laura-naruto-fan1998 @nebarious @joalslibrary @swifth0lic

as always, if i forgot to include you, please let me know! thank you all for the continuous support! i love y'all sm!! <33

472 notes · View notes

sparklesandpudding · 8 months ago

Note

Hi, it's me again. How are you? I hope your day is great 😊 I am back to ask another request 🤭😅 Sorry if I ask too much this week 🙇‍♀️

Anyway, this time is about ror Poseidon (wanted to do Beel, but I am scared you already had enough with many Beel story 🤣🤣).

It was isekai-ed reader (kinda or sort off) like the reader is a witch and had read RoR, her favorite is Beelzebub. She hope she can went to RoR universe at least wanted to hug her bias once. But what she get is... she got asthraled (forgot the word. It was like your soul or ghost someshort of spiritual come to another place but you are kinda invisible and cannot be harmed since you are ghost and all.) instead you fall down to Poseidon lap.

Ror Poseidon of course angered and threw trident at you, only for it to just flew through you and you are unharmed. Unfortunately for both of you, you seems stuck with him because you try to get away or him get away it always end with you being dragged by force to him. He is very annoyed by not only because you are human but also because you insistent on wanting to meet Beelzebub. You both banter daily and all.

He grow fond of you, and deep down scared if you will suddenly move back or meet Beelzebub as he know your love for the flies (lowkey he though you are in love with the devil and not love him as a fans). And the day came where Poseidon cross with Beelzebub and he find himself so jealous at how you fawning over Beelzebub resulted in his very first argument with you and you huff and the reader having enough just kiss him... only to find herself go through him. Come the fluffy live between you two. The reader love teasing Poseidon who act as if he is not affected on outside but when it was only two of them, he is a big cuddler and softy.

Can you please made headcannon and story about it? It was up to you if it going to be after or before Ragnarok. Thank you so much. Have nice days and wonderful days 😘❤❤❤

Hi hun💕 thank you for this, it's so cute 😭 seeing a jelly Poseidon is actually funny to think abt ngl

Poseidon mini story+mini headcanons

Poseidon × isekai-ed!witch!reader

You find yourself scrolling through your phone, reading the newest chapters of record of Ragnarok, your all time favourite manga. Or maybe just something you read to pass the time, whatever. You fawned and giggled over your favourite character, specifically, Beelzebub. Poor baby, you wanted to give him a hug and kiss his face all over, since he didn't deserve any of this.

You so wanted to go there, but that was impossible. Your worlds were completely different, and he was fictional. He wasn't real. Or so you thought.

When you went to bed that night, your final thoughts being your bias, you suddenly open your eyes again, this time, the surroundings were different. It was all so colorful, like you were being sucked into a portal that led to someplace else.

"is this a dream?" You mumbled, before suddenly, you dropped, letting out a little squeak, looking up. Then...you saw the face of an angered god, who was just as surprised as you. But more pissed tho.

You landed on the lap of the tyrant of the sea, Poseidon. Great, just your luck. What the hell and how the hell did you end up on his lap? You couldn't even process when he took his trident.

You floated away, letting out little panicked sounds, as he got up, throwing it at you, only for it to pas through you, as you looked at him wide eyed. "Mortal, who do you think you are to commit such an act towards a god?"

When he heard your explanation, he let out a "tch" deciding to stop, before ordering you to leave, which you gladly did so. Well, that didn't go so well for you. With a magnetic force, your body was brought back to Poseidon, who looked at you like you just called him a bitch and slapped him in the face.

"I told you to leave."

"if you can see, I am struggling to!"

You recall reading a book about things like these, and you then start to connect the dots, coming to a conclusion that your soul had been transported to a completely different world, while your physical body was back in the other.

You and Poseidon tried to part ways, but no matter what you did, you kept being forced back to him. As mucha s he wanted to believe that you were faking it, you really looked like your were upset and struggling badly. So now he was just stuck with you.

At first, he found you annoying, the way you'd just float around while he walked, his movements always being watched by the little ghost on his ass, man this was a pain. You were a pathetic human, and your whines to meet Beelzebub were so irritating. But all that was passed him. It slowly came to him that he grew fond of you, he found himself entertained by watching you float around stupidly, and just be on his back all day, begging him to go near an ice cream truck so you could eat something tasty.

But when those thoughts came over him, another thought presented itself. What if you broke free from him, and set out to find Beelzebub? That, that really wasn't a nice thought. But the day came where by absolute luck, he walks passed Beelzebub, and he immediately looked behind him to find you squealing and fawning over the lord of the flies.

Poseidon had many fan girls, so why couldn't you have just been one of them? Before you could get near Beelzebub, Poseidon immediately distanced himself from the god, forcing you with him, making you pout and whine.

That was his last straw.

You were his now. So why do you look at other guys like that? It's obvious that you were sent to him for a reason. That resulted in an argument between the both of you. Before you finally had enough and decided to kiss him. You didn't know why, but your body acted on its own, what's worse is that you passed through him, as he stared at you with wide eyes, slowly calming himself. Before telling you to touch him.

You were confused, and still embarrassed, before you touched him, his body slowly turning spirit like, just like you. He had read about it before, and knew exactly what he was dealing with. And now that he knew the side effects, and everything else, he went over and kissed you, kissing you with so much passion. Knowing that nobody could see both of you. And from there, you both started a relationship.

The effects wore off, and he became a touchable and physical being once more. Looking at you, and then softly speaking. "You're mine now. Understand? That's an order."

Your heart beemed, you knew you loved beelzebub..but this exchange with Poseidon had completely altered your way of thinking.

He's not so bad after all...

________ random mini headcanons._____

- bro still does his best to make sure Beelzebub ain't anywhere close to you. Like literally he hates it when he even thinks about Beelzebub and you having an interaction. Nobody stealing his bae.

- he's cold and all, but when y'all are together, he's so needy.

- even if ur a ghost, you will either be floating round him, or be on his lap.

- sometimes, his brother's find him talking to himself, unaware that you were chatting with him. They fr thought he had an imaginary best friend.

- jealousy issues frfr

- when you told him about how you thought there could be a chance where you'll eventually be transported back to your world— mans was pissed. He would do so much to avoid that from happening, ordering servants to find anything about things like these, just to avoid it from happening.

- yes I mean everyone.

- he couldn't afford to lose you. Not when you are one of the very, VERY few people he had took a liking to. So anyone that posed as a threat shall be demolished.

- he hates how your eyes dart immediately to anyone who looked even the slightest bit of nice. Like he's literally over here wtf.

- I jus know that whenever you're hungry, he'd order his servant or smth to get him the most randomest shit like your favourite food, ice cream, or whatever you liked.

- people who serve it to him are dumbfounded when they see that Poseidon, THE Poseidon, is requesting...a dessert???

- only for him to stare at it with the most uninterested resting bitch face known to man. Until the food suddenly dissappears out of the blue without the god moving an inch. But they can't question it tho.

- and yo ass is just munching on the food, happily floating around and thanking him.

- his servants or anyone for that matter would be even more surprised when he started ordering them to buy stuff like clothes, jewelry, and all....

- was their god keeping a secret mistress??? But then again...they cannot ask. Or their heads would be served on a platter.

- he's a good boyfriend and hubby, y'all's marriage would come in so randomly after he just states in in a meeting with the other gods. Explaining everything and then dropping a "we're getting married in a few days"

- dang. Oh well, didn't matter. He was just happy that he was gonna seal the deal with you. All his, and he'd make sure you'd become immortal too, just like him.

____

@17kurodaayumu this was fun!

127 notes · View notes

ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal · 4 months ago

Text

Don’t ever tell yourself that you’re not enough, I am certain that you’re truly fine

PART ONE

Ot8 x reader

Word count: 867

Just a warning, this is my first fanfic! Does have age regression themes so if you’re not a fan, I ask that you respectfully just don’t read <3 also this will definitely have some angst

!THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION!

It had its hard days being their friend, part of it was from the hate you would receive from fans and another was how you eventually fallen for them through the years. You always liked Han, way before his debut, but you never wanted to tell him. You didn’t want to mess up the friendship you cherished with him and you also figured he wouldn’t feel the same. Now those same feelings of possible rejection only grew.

Friday quickly came, that meant the weekly game night with you and the guys. When Han told the guys how much you loved video games, Felix was over the moon and decided that once a week, we all would spend our night playing games and enjoying each others company. We all sat in various places in the living room, some were seated on the couch, some on the floor. I was seated on the floor, leaning against the couch with a controller in my hand as I played against Hyunjin who is sat next to Changbin on the couch.

“Yah! You cheated!” Changbin tells me once the match is over, showing how I beat Hyunjin in a one on one match.

I turn quickly to look at him, but before I can say anything, Felix interjects for me. “How can you say she cheated when we all was watching her?” He ask, eating a brownie. “Also, why are you speaking for him?”

Then the dorm was filled with banter, something that always happened during these nights. Han would stand, start arguing with Jeongin for God knows what. Chris would try and make peace amongst everyone, Seungmin would have his camera out recording everything, and I would just sit their laughing, not wanting to be in the middle. But tonight was different, instead of laughing, I stayed quiet.

Today was a particular hard day at work, and just like Han, sometimes your anxiety gets the better of you. But I did not feel like burdening the guys with my problems. Normally on days like this, it wouldn’t fall on game night and I can go home and regress. I knew if i passed on game night, that the guys would worry, so I tried to push my anxiety and the need to regress aside and I came here.

“That’s enough!” Chris speaks up to the guys after realizing I been quiet since the match ended. Chris’ worried eyes stay on me, but he doesn’t mention anything to me. Instead he sighs, “Clearly the arguments are doing more harm than anything, so let’s just all watch a movie.”

“It is actually getting pretty late, I should get going.” I tell the guys softly as I stand up which makes the guys worried.

“You never leave on game night.” Minho says suspiciously, his eyes squinting as if he’s trying to read me. “And if you do, you let one of us bring you home.”

“I just have some work to catch up on.” I trying making an excuse, earning a scoff from Minho.

“That’s bullshit and you know it. Since when you care about doing work on your days off?”

I sigh, knowing he is right, but I have to leave before I have a mental breakdown. “Min, I just have work-” I start to say but he cuts me off.

“(y/n) I swear if you start giving me that excuse again, I am not going to be happy.” Minho says firmly, concern written all over his face. My eyes slightly widen from his firm voice, my mind threatening to fall into that familiar headspace. Before I can say anything, Han interjects.

“She might have just had a long day.” Minho sighs and stands up.

“Well I had a long day too but I am not making up lame excuses to try and leave.” Minho’s words cut me like a knife. I know deep down, his words are coming from one of concern, but I still can’t push past the hurt he is making me feel.

I stand there, as I see Minho walk away, my eyes filling with tears that threaten to fall. When I hear the door slam, I flinch and that’s when my tears break free. Han immediately comes hug me, holding my tightly.

“He didn’t mean it (y/n/n), Minho Hyung is just worried.” He tries telling me only for my tears to fall harder, which makes it even harder not to slip. I can’t do that infront of the guys, they’ll judge me, they’ll hate me, I can’t lose them. These thoughts keeps flying through my head, not realizing that my tears is making the guys panic since they haven’t seen me cry before, besides Jisung.

PART TWO

#ot8 x reader #stray kids x reader #agere little #stray kids little space #little reader #stray kids #bang chan #lee minho #seo changbin #hwang hyunjin #han jisung #lee felix #kim seungmin #yang jeongin #stray kids ot8 #angst #stray kids agere #kpop age regression #kpop agere

66 notes · View notes

patroxlos · 6 months ago

Text

home base . ch2

"friends who reconnected and who certainly don't want to be more" - 2.8k words

ultraman: rising (2024). kenji sato x reader

master post. ao3 link.

previous: ch1. "friends who have dinner once a week"

next: ch3. "friends who believe in mpreg"

A few months before the first chapter, you pick your best friend up from the airport.

You would've expected nothing less than banter and unresolved tension.

---

A few months ago.

Ken Sato knows he would get mobbed at the airport, but he is pleasantly surprised at the crowd that had formed just to see him arrive back at the homeland. Didn’t hurt the ego to see how the entire room seemed to literally light up as he stepped into view.

Sure, this isn’t the most ideal career move. But he did not have much of a choice, so he is going to try to make the most out of it.

He flashes well-timed smirks towards his adoring fans as he walks, adjusting his shades coolly as he is bombarded with a flash of lights. Oh yeah, no matter where he goes, he still got it. He is it.

His mood instantly dampens however when instead of a black luxury van, a beaten up jeep was waiting for him at the end of his airport runway. The windows are tinted, but he knows exactly who it was. As one of the men nearby open the doors of the jeep for him, he begrudgingly climbs in.

“Ugh, dad, I told you I didn’t want you picking me up from the airport,” Ken scowls. He does not spare a glance to the driver’s seat as he begins stretching out his legs. “I’m not going to whatever family lunch plans you made. Just drop me off.”

“Want to try speaking to me like that again?” A voice, that is decidedly not his father, says. You look back from the driver’s seat, a disgusted look on your face. “You talk to your dad like that?”

He feels his breath leave his body.

You look the same as he remembers you.

He bolts up from the back, nearly lunging forward. “I– I didn’t know—”

“No worries sir. I am just your humble driver,” you mock as you begin to set the jeep to drive.

“Wait! Wait.” He presses a hand over yours that held the stick shift, before exiting the jeep quickly and switching to the passenger seat at the front. The crowd screams once more when they see him emerge from the car.

As soon as he sits in front, he reaches over the console to give you a hug. “Hey! It’s been a while.”

You click your tongue, before returning the hug. “That’s more like it. And watch how you speak to Professor Sato. He’s getting pretty old these days.”

He winces. “I will,” he half-heartedly promises, fully knowing he won’t. “I didn’t expect to see you here. I thought you were still studying at some fancy grad school in Europe.”

You laugh. “I graduated. Say hello to the upcoming CEO of Motsubishi. Wear your seatbelt.” You drive out of the airport, and he notices two black cars follow them closely behind. Your security detail.

“Oh bro no way! You got the gig.” He gives a light slap to your shoulder in excitement.

“I’m getting the gig. I can still fuck up before my dad retires.”

He grins widely, getting a good look at you. “You’re some bigshot now.”

“Compared to you?”

“Especially compared to me. I hit balls with a stick.”

“You normally don’t downplay your stunning career running the longest tour of the Ken Sato Show. I should take that as a compliment.” You take one hand off the wheel to nudge him back. “But seriously. Nice to see you again. You look…good.”

“You too— like, you look great,” he grins. “It’s just been so long. When was the last time we’ve seen each other? Two years?”

“Three,” you corrected him. “When I went to see you play at Dodger Stadium against the Angels. I was with your mom—”

“Hm, I think you’re remembering it wrong.” He chuckles. “I don’t think you came to see me play.”

Your cheeks burn as you drive a little faster. “I thought you forgot about that.”

“No no, I think I would remember when my best friend cheers for another guy at the opposite team instead of me.”

“He’s not just some other guy,” you retort. “He’s Shohei Ohtani.”

“You know he’s a Dodger now,” he points out.

“Yeah…” You bite your lip, trying to suppress a giggle. He didn’t like that.

He sulks into his seat, arms crossed. “And, he’s only the second-best to me.”

“And are you a two-way player like him?”

“Why? So I can be mediocre at both pitching and batting? No thank you sweetheart.”

He remembers they had the same conversation before, but instead of inside a musty jeep it was someplace much darker and crowded. He had leaned close to her ear, his hand hovering over her waist. They were fighting to have a conversation over the music, and he was desperate to prove he was a much better player than the entire team he just lost to. Oh yeah, he remembers the last time he saw you pretty clearly, three years ago.

He also remembers the mess that happened after, and the promise they made to never talk about it again.

He realizes that they tended to fight a lot whenever they met up, yet it does not dampen their closeness. To him, you are still the spoiled yet easygoing rich kid that hangs around whenever his dad has meetings with your parents. To you, he is still the little crybaby who likes playing Ultraman in the kindergarten playroom.

He denies it to this day, but you know for a fact that he bawled when you said goodbye before him and his mom left for good.

“I missed you,” you aren’t looking at him when you said this, but he feels the affection all the same. “Zoom isn’t the same as seeing you in person.”

“Is that why you’re picking me up? I figured it’s so that your dad knows his favorite endorser is in good hands.” He leans back into the soft leather cockily, raising his arms to position them behind his head. Ken feels like he’s practically part of the family at this point— he owes a lot of his career success to the ardent sponsorship of your parents. It’s kind of hard not to stick out as a player in the little leagues when you endorse one of the biggest technology and automaker companies in the world. He’s lucky that the kindness stretched on to his professional career.

“I figured you would’ve wanted to see a familiar face,” you say.

He did want that. Really badly. He struggles not to show it. “Aw, you miss me that much?” He teases, leaning forward to catch your eye.

He is not really prepared for the sincerity that met him when you reach over to pat his knee before returning focus back to your drive. “I know this move isn’t easy for you, Kenji…You sounded really beaten up over it the last time we called,” You sigh.

He looks out of the window, feigning some nonchalance when he asks “Yeah yeah, so when will you fly back out?”

“Hm?”

“You know, when you’re off on a yacht somewhere with your college buddies or doing some business at a convention for your dad.” He recounts your jetsetting habits. He has seen it all on your socials and some unsavory gossip articles he immediately scrolls away from.

‘Young heiress making the most out of life— and her parents’ bank account.’ Or so the tabloids say.

It doesn’t matter that you came to pick him up. You’ll be gone soon anyway, no reason for him to get too attached to having you around. It feels like fate will never allow you two to be in the same place at the right time, when he is too busy running bases and you were too busy leaving on jetplanes.

“Actually,” you sound unsure as to how to say it. “I’m…I didn’t tell you this last time we called because I wasn’t sure and I didn’t want to get your hopes up but— I guess I will be indefinitely staying here for now. Same as you.”

He whips his head to face you so fast he nearly got strangled by his seatbelt. “Oh.” He keeps his tone casual. “That’s great.”

“Yeah. Even with how big Tokyo is, it feels like we would practically be neighbors now,” your voice was even, but slightly strained— as if you also couldn’t believe that you both found your way back within driving distance.

The car ride is unbearably silent for him.

It is for you too, as you rush to fill the quiet. “We’ll be seeing each other a lot. I’m staying here for the time being because—”

He didn’t really process anything else you said after you mentioned that you will be seeing each other . A lot.

“...and I just want to make sure you’ll be alright adjusting back here.” You finish. “If you renew your contract it’ll be easier for me to see you—”

“I’ll get to see you?”

It strikes your heart, how soft his voice becomes, far removed from the arrogance he often carries. You approach the docks of Tokyo Bay. “...Yes? That’s what I said. So you better renew.”

“Renew what?” He could not focus.

“Your…contract with the company? You are still staying onboard with us, right?” You activate the private sea bridge that leads straight to his house. He is not sure how you got the authorization— maybe you talk to his dad more often than he realizes.

“Uhuh, yeah… So when can I see you again?” He is already planning to take to the streets of Tokyo with you. You can go on a food crawl at Harmonica Yokocho. The Tokyo Skytree seems tempting but he was not sure if you are still scared of heights. He can make fun of you either way. “Should we get annual passes to DisneySea?” He asks aloud. He could easy acquire them for the both of you, but you might have some secret corporate connections to see more exclusive attractions—

“Dude, I just told you.” You laugh as you drove through the sea bridge. “I might not be able to see you outside of work that much, so you should renew with us or else I won’t get to see you at all. I’m here in Japan because I’ll be busy training to take over the company.”

“Oh suddenly I’m not good enough to kick it with Ms. CEO?” He jokes but deflates slightly at your words. “It’s okay. I…I’m busy with my…own things too.”

“You sure are. You have a photoshoot tomorrow. I arranged for it. Make sure to clean up nicely. You’re representing my brand you know?”

He groans. “Ugh, come onnn… can’t you at least let me get over the jetlag? I heard there’s this great club in Shibuya that would definitely let us in.”

“You couldn’t be any less specific right now. Any club would take us in.”

“So we will hit them all up! Club crawl! A Ken Sato Homecoming Round.”

You pull up at his front door. “Hey, your agent told me you approved of the schedule last month. This conference is part of your contract.”

“Well that was before I knew you would be here!” He unbuckles his seat belt to fully face you. He is always such a drama queen.

And no matter the distance, he always will be your drama queen.

You placed the jeep on park, mulling over his insistence. “...After your shoot. I think I’ll be free. For a quick dinner,” you emphasize the word ‘quick.’

He grabs your shoulder and gives you a hefty shake. “Now that’s what I’m talking about! Where ya wanna go? I think DisneySea can be considered a quick squeeze—”

“Maybe someplace near the venue?” You laugh at his eagerness. “I don’t really wanna go anywhere too far from it in case another kaiju attack happens.”

He stills. You notice.

“Oh don’t worry, it’s not as scary as it seems,” you try to reassure him. “It’s just…Ultraman has disappeared for the past several months that it is kinda hard to anticipate when these attacks resolve themselves– what with how the KDF is.”

He knows. Fuck, he knows. “...Do you often worry about that?”

You think for a bit, before shrugging. “When I’m in the country I guess I do, but like everyone else here you just get used to it.”

He does not like the idea of you being used to it.

And maybe this is one of the rare instances where he is thankful for inheriting such a responsibility as Ultraman; the thought of being able to keep you safe gives him a renewed sense as to why he begrudgingly agreed to take on the mantle in the first place.

He…He remembers that he promised his dad he would start the gig no later by tomorrow, after he was barraged with dozens of video messages from his dad urging him to start training to host the Ultra.

“Kenji?” You furrow your eyebrows at his lack of response.

He came back to Japan to be Ultraman.

Millions of people depend on him.

“U-uh oh yea. Definitely. Tomorrow works.” He’ll just deal with his dad another day. Not like I even wanted this job.

The grin on your face made him feel like it was worth it, especially when you reach forward to clasp his hand in yours. “Welcome back Ken.”

His brain short-circuits. He puts his other hand over yours, his grip tighter than your own. “What can I say? Can’t disappoint my No.1 fan.”

The airconditioner ran as you both stayed like that for a little longer. It was only then that he realized they didn’t even put on any music the entire trip down there. He leans in a little closer, his side pressing against the center console.

“Thank you for picking me up.” He says, voice low.

“You’re welcome.” You squeeze his hand, your grin softening to a smile.

New lipstick, he notes as he studies the matt new shade of your lips. He wonders whether it tasted like the strawberry balm you used to wear when you were teenagers or maybe it is just waxy like the last time he saw you.

You let go of his hands, bringing them back to your lap and bringing him back to reality. “Hey, um. It’s not weird right? That we’re meeting up tomorrow night?”

“Huh? Why would it be weird?” He blinks.

“You know…three years ago. When we agreed that we would just like…Stick to being friends?” It is tricky for you to find the right words. “That it won’t work out because we’re just in different places and we shouldn’t…try?”

“It’s not like we were together in the first place,” he says before he could stop himself. He sees the hurt slightly flash in your eyes before you regained composure.

“Right…well…I hope this doesn’t change our agreement?” You fiddle with your fingers. “I know we said those things because we felt like we would never find ourselves close by to one another but now all of a sudden we find ourselves…here.”

You gesture to the both of you.

“I think it’s important for us to remember that…we’re still not really at a place to pursue anything and we are better off as…friends who meet up for dinner.”

He claps your shoulder, a little harder than intended, but with a need to convey a strong sense of camaraderie. “Yeah of course. Friends, we can so do that. Bro.”

“Yeah, okay. Yes. Sorry I had to bring it up because it felt a little awkward earlier in the trip.”

“I didn’t even notice!” Lie. “I totally didn’t think that it would cause any problems.” Double lie. “In fact, I think I’ve moved on. Got some bigger things on my plate.” Triple…No. That’s true. Yes he has. Maybe?

“Oh good,” you smile tightly at him. “So have I…I’m super over it. Bro.”

Oh. “You are?” His voice lilted a bit higher.

“...Yes I am.”

“Okay. Cool.” That’s totally fine with him. “Glad we’re on the same page, Ms. CEO.” You had bigger things to worry about, he had literal bigger things to worry about, it was no biggie. He definitely wasn’t going to lie awake in bed tonight.

Because it was definitely never going to work out between them.

It’s why months from that point, freshly off an argument with you at the yakisoba place the previous day, he nearly chokes on his katsu when Ms. Wakita asks him:

“So if you’re not going to talk about your father, do you have any comments about the gossip channels saying that you harboring a secret love child with the scion of the Motsubishi Group?”

#im a big ohtani fan i hope u dont mind that i insert that lmao #ken sato x you #ken sato x reader #kenji sato x reader #cross posted on ao3

50 notes · View notes

dapandapod · 1 year ago

Text

Bruises

I realized I forgot to post this on Tumbl! It's about 8,5k and written in one day in a fit of inspiration (helppppp) because I needed that sweet sweet Jaskier whump. Please enjoy this emotional hurt/comfort ish-fix-it of season 2. On Ao3 here

Jaskier never expected to see Kaer Morhen, especially not in the way he ended up seeing it.

The dwarves lead him and Ciri as far as they can, banter and cutting remarks following Jaskier at every step.

Sure, he gives as good as he gets; whatever he is dealt he makes sure to give back, if he can get away with it.

But you can only be hit so many times before it becomes a bruise, no matter how lightly.

And Jaskier is already sore, from years of barbs, from years of being told to “fuck off, bard” or “shut up, bard” or “you are so fucking loud,” and well. It hits harder when it is someone you consider a friend.

Especially when it turns out that friendship was one sided.

The little princess is full of resentment and anger, but trading banter puts a small smile on her face, so he lets her.

If the way to get friendly is to let her tease him, so be it. He knows she needs an outlet for her inner turmoil so it doesn’t fester, so he turns up the dramatics and plays along.

The second to last eve they spend with the dwarves, it suddenly becomes too much. He knows Yarpen isn’t a fan, he knows there is some truth behind his name calling and swearing.

Ciri is sitting across the fire, sharpening a stick with the knife from her boot, looking for all the world like she isn’t paying attention to the conversation around her.

But then one of the dwarves calls Jaskier an ignorant, lazy, useless human, wondering what the fuck he is doing here anyway.

Maybe it is the ale, maybe it is the smoke stinging his eyes, or the years of putting up with it.

Jaskier doesn’t remember which one of them it was afterwards, and it doesn’t matter. His anger flares. He stands up, and the group goes very quiet.

“Have any of you asked me anything of my life? Have any of you bothered to ask what I was doing in a fucking prison cell, why I don’t have a lute, or where I went after you left that fucking dragon hunt with Geralt?”

There is complete silence, only the crackling of the fire and the night sounds of the forest.

“You might think I’m useless, and that I am lazy, and that I’m ignorant. But I don’t have to be here. I have people depending on me, yet here I am. Giving up responsibilities and comforts alike, all for someone who can’t even call me a friend, surrounded by people who clearly don’t want me here.”

He flexes his hands, feeling the blistered and burned skin strain, the pain clearing his head some.

“I’ll be out of your hair tomorrow.” He finishes, picks up his bedroll and his pack, and settles on the outskirts of the camp, by the wagon.

Close enough to be safe, far away enough to get some peace.

It takes a few minutes for the muttering to begin, a few more until Ciri stands up too, and gathers her bedroll.

Until now, she has been distant, and he can’t blame her in the least. Now she settles down just a few feet from him, alongside the carriage.

It is colder here in the north, and neither of them had any kind of proper gear packed for their journey, unplanned as it was. He still drapes his leather jacket over her when he hears her chattering teeth, and settles on his bedroll with just a thin blanket.

Kaer Morhen is all big halls, high ceilings and hairy men. Hairy witchers. Lots of them too, and Ciri runs to greet them with a big smile.

They had found Eskel along the path, guiding them the rest of the way up. Ciri knew some of the way already, but only the paths closest to the keep, so it was a great relief having someone who knew what to avoid and what trails led them past ancient traps and monster dens.

The road was long, and Jaskier can’t believe Geralt thought he would make it here unscathed. Eskel seemed a little concerned as well when Jaskier explained his task, but said nothing.

Still says nothing, now that Ciri is surrounded by witchers, and Jaskier is left just standing there at the edge of the room. He is usually not one to hesitate to introduce himself, but he is tired, hungry, and frankly feeling rather neglected.

Eventually Ciri introduces him to the group, and it takes about three seconds after that to figure out who Lambert is.

Ah, ‘Lambert, Lambert, what a prick,’ indeed.

He is given dinner, a place to sleep, and is shown to the room where they keep a myriad of bathtubs. Lucky for him, there is already a fire going, making the room warm and toasty, and making it considerably easier to warm the water without any signs.

Jaskier can’t lie, he had been picturing hot springs, or anything pre-heated really, especially the shallow pool that had been built in the floor.

A quick toe dip later, and he is never stepping foot in that pool, ever.

His fingers ache when they come in contact with the heat of the fireplace, and he flexes them in an attempt to dispel the discomfort.

Sinking down into a tub at long last is heaven.

Dirt from far more than the road to the keep has had his skin itching, his hair stuck in a permanent curl around his ears, and he longs for his artistic dishevelment once more.

Sharing breakfast with the witchers of Kaer Morhen enlightens him about the many odd manners of Geralt of Rivia.

Watching the other witchers mess with each other explains so much. Unguarded food is immediately stolen, and if given the chance, someone will increase the temperature of their tea all the way to boiling, and then challenge each other to drink it, and so on, and so forth. Brotherly pranks, clearly, but the kind you need a certain set of mutations to deal with.

Jaskier only has his mixed heritage to keep him out of the worst of troubles that technically would be bad news for full humans, but nothing to keep him safe from this, so he steers clear.

Yennefer and Geralt join them that same afternoon.

Ciri runs into Geralt’s arms, and Jaskier remains at the table where he is challenging Coën with loaded dice.

Not until most of the others have gone to bed does Geralt finally approach him.

“Thank you for bringing her safely here.”

Jaskier looks at him for a long while, before replying.

“You’re welcome.” He says finally, and Geralt pats his shoulder. Weird.

After that first day, Jaskier approaches Vesemir while the others are busy.

The way he left things in Oxenfurt doesn’t sit right with him, and he is pretty sure Pricilla is going to assume he is dead if he doesn’t get a message to her soon.

He still has no idea how long he is supposed to stay in the keep, but he writes a carefully worded letter, assuring his safety and asking her to keep singing the Song of the Shore.

She will know what the coded song title means, and he has enough funds squirreled away to keep the entire Sandpiper operation going for a while longer, before he needs to find a way to beg his benefactor for assistance.

Vesemir gives him a long look, and Jaskier offers the letter he is holding, stifling a frustrated sigh.

“You are free to read it. I’m not trying to give away your location, just assure my safety of me and those I left behind.” He says, because he knows.

He spent years in the library of Oxenfurt, and he has read the old tomes that contain what little witcher history there is to find, as poorly depicted as it is. He knows about the sacking of the keep, understands the fear of it happening again.

It still stings.

Vesemir accepts his offer, and opens the letter, reading it over. His eyebrow climbs up his forehead, and he looks at Jaskier before putting it back into its envelope.

“I’ll have it sent.” He says, his mustache twitching when he makes a considering face. “Do any of the others know?”

“About the Sandpiper?” Jaskier asks, and Vesemir nods. “Yennefer knows. She was a part of the last group I sent off, before…” Jaskier stops and takes a breath. “Before. I know how and when to keep things to myself.”

Vesemir nods again approvingly, and takes the letter with him.

No one seems to have noticed the exchange, and Jaskier is left wondering if that is a good or a bad thing.

Things are a bit tense in the keep. Geralt still hasn’t seemed to forgive Yennefer for her betrayal, and Ciri seems to be more withdrawn lately.

Between witcher practice and chores, Jaskier tries to make himself as useful as he can be.

Which is not very, as it turns out, since he is not trusted to be in the lab anymore because of a tiny little tasting incident. Nor is he allowed to help with the patching up the keep. The library is Vesemir’s baby, and Jaskier is sure he is safeguarding secrets of the past there.

So Jaskier just… hangs around. Without a lute, he can’t play, and he probably wouldn’t be able to just yet anyway with his fingers still in their sorry state. The blistered skin has started peeling now, and new soft pink skin has started to show underneath.

He and Yennefer are getting closer, both of them evidently outcasts of a sort.

Especially since none of the other witchers make an effort to get to know them, nor is Geralt paying any kind of attention to either of them. She is the only one who really knows about the firefucker, and nobody has bothered to ask about the bandages.

If she had her chaos, she could have healed him, but she doesn’t, so instead she makes what ointments she can and watches him like a hawk to make sure he doesn’t eat it instead of applying it.

Late summer is slowly becoming early fall, and Jaskier realizes that his window for leaving is ever shrinking.

He doesn’t want to leave, not really, but he has no idea what he's doing here. Geralt hasn't asked him to leave, but neither has he asked him to stay.

Their interactions are short and rarely between them alone.

A lot of it consists of Geralt being nearby when Jaskier is retelling funny stories of their travels, making Ciri smile and the other witchers roar with laughter and the corner of Geralt’s mouth twitch in an aborted smile.

They don’t treat him like the dwarves did, but they clearly don't know why Jaskier is here either, and it is frustrating to say the least.

They seem to appreciate his singing more than Geralt ever did, sure, but sometimes it feels like they use him to annoy Geralt, and sometimes Jaskier thinks it’s working…

Lambert is probably the worst. He is an asshole and excuses it by calling it honesty.

He picks up where Geralt left off after the mountain, poking at every visible sore spot until Jaskier is stinging. Jabs and jibes, poking fun at Jaskier to make the others laugh. Nothing he isn’t used to, but something that makes Jaskier feel uncomfortable when nobody steps in to stop him.

Ciri sticks close to his side after those nights.

She doesn’t say much, doesn’t try to defend him, and he would never ask her to, but she glares at Lambert and asks Jaskier to tell her another story, which he gladly does.

It’s been two weeks since their arrival, and he, Lambert, Coën and Geralt are gathered around the dining table. Most of the others have filtered out to their own tasks or downtime activities, but they linger, chatting and playing dice. Coën stays out of it, still not trusting Jaskier since the loaded dice incident, which Jaskier is immensely proud of.

For the first time in a long time, Jaskier is actually enjoying himself, and enjoying being next to his friend. Maybe, after all this time, Geralt has started to think of him as a friend too.

Until Lambert opens his mouth and ruins it all.

“You are not half as bad as Geralt made you out to be. Or maybe it’s because he made you leave your lute behind at the bottom of the mountain?”

Next to him Geralt stiffens, and Jaskier feels his jaw working.

“Thanks,” is all he says, shaking the dice in the cup one more time before slamming it down on the table a little harder than strictly necessary. Then he stands up and climbs over the bench, very fucking done with the entire conversation.

Behind him he can hear Coën berating Lambert, who pretends he has no idea what he said wrong.

Fucking asshole.

He doesn’t hear Geralt say anything, nor ask about the missing lute.

It’s not that cold out yet, but the air is fresh and crisp on his face when he steps out through one of the side entrances to the courtyard. Here and there witchers are milling about, but Jaskier wants to be alone.

He hurries to the main gate and across the bridge, seeking his solitude amongst the trees on the other side. Technically, it is a bit dangerous to go out alone, but Jaskier is pretty sure no little beasties would dare come close to a monster hunter’s keep in broad daylight.

“Jaskier.” Geralt calls after him, and Jaskier stifles a long line of swears. Still he lets Geralt catch up to him, even if he is decidedly not looking at the witcher.

“Lambert can be such a prick.” Geralt says when he has caught up. “He only wants to rile you up.”

Jaskier notices the clear lack of an apology in there.

“So I’ve noticed. And he succeeded,” Jaskier says shortly, flexing his fingers again.

A bad habit now, but it is better than picking at the sharp, hardened edges of skin that still cling to his fingertips as they heal.

Clearly, Geralt hadn’t thought through what he wanted to say, or he had expected this to be enough. It isn’t. He lingers, still standing there, waiting for… something.

“What do you want from me, Geralt?” He asks when Geralt isn’t saying anything, and turns to look at him. His… friend. The man he has spent far too many years believing he meant something to.

“... I wanted to see if you are alright.” Geralt says haltingly, and Jaskier finally snaps.

“Oh yes, I am clearly alright after being told time and time again that I am annoying, unwanted, useless, loud, and being told by your family that you had made me out to be all those things too, before they even met me.”

Geralt looks taken aback, but Jaskier is not done.

“I’m tired of this, Geralt. I am so fucking tired of this. Not once have you come to my defence, not once have you told them to fuck off.”

“You can hold your own.” Geralt says, frowning, and Jaskier spreads his arm in frustration.

“I can, of course I fucking can! I have to, since not even the man I thought of as my best friend considers me a friend enough to have my back!”

Again, the witcher doesn’t have a reply to that. Fucking figures.

“Leave me alone, Geralt. Before I say something I’ll regret.”

“...Don’t wander.” The witcher cautions him hesitantly, and thankfully returns towards the bridge.

Jaskier stays longer than what is probably advisable. He is just fuming, and he kicks a young tree, making yellow leaves fall down around him.

He could technically blow off steam by sitting down to write, but there would be an audience no matter where he goes in the keep, and he is also not very much in the mood for another Burn Butcher Burn.

That one has done enough damage already.

In the end, it is Ciri who ends up fetching him. She doesn’t say anything about his red eyes and tousled hair, nor the bruises on his knuckles.

“Dinner is ready,” is all she says, and waits for him to join her back across the bridge with the others.

Jaskier takes his dinner and chooses another table far from the big group. Predictably, Ciri joins him, but he didn’t expect Eskel to sit down with them, too. Nor Yennefer. Nor Geralt.

They talk amongst themselves, even if Ciri and Jaskier are the only one replying to Yennefer when she says something.

It makes him feel weird, considering their rivalry all these years.

He knocks their shoulders together and teases her, calls her the worst wife ever. It is worth it for the smile he teases out of her, but he notices Geralt pull in a sharp breath of air.

“What?” he asks, but Geralt says nothing, just stares down at his food.

That evening, Geralt walks Jaskier back to his room.

“I’m sorry,” the witcher finally says after a long stretch of silence that Jaskier refuses to fill. “For what Lambert said. And for what I made Lambert believe.”

Jaskier blinks in surprise. When there is nothing else, he turns towards his door.

“Sure. See you around, Geralt.”

But Geralt stops him with a hand around his wrist.

“Are you and Yennefer… really married?”

Of course. Of course that is what would be on Geralt’s mind. Another sore spot amongst the others on his bruised heart.

“Fret not, witcher, the sorceress is still unwed and free for the taking. She did get me out of a rather sticky situation, though, so if it’s all the same to you, I do consider her my friend and platonic wife.”

With that, Jaskier turns and closes the door behind him.

Fuck, that was not how he wanted this day to go. His eyes sting and he swallows many times and he clenches his fists to keep his emotions in line.

Maybe it is time to leave.

Maybe it is time to go back to where people need and want him. Where he can make a difference. Where he can matter. Where he is enough.

His eyes sting once more, and with a great sigh he heaves himself from where he was leaning against the door and pours himself a cup of water.

He’ll talk with Eskel in the morning. Or Vesemir. Find a way to leave that won’t inconvenience anyone any further.

Leaving is harder than he thought, mainly because now, all of a sudden, people seem to seek his company.

Yennefer keeps appearing, asking him for help with stupid things. Some of them, he realizes, might be a way to regain the trust she broke between her and Geralt, but he appreciates her company it all the same.

Especially since most of it includes making Ciri smile, some other parts of it to make Lambert’s life a little more shitty. Something he is all for, to be honest.

Jaskier is petty when he wants to be, and right now he is the Prince of Petty.

Geralt too, seems to have come to some conclusion. He bites back faster when Lambert becomes too much, or Eskel, or Coën for that matter. In Jaskier’s defence, even.

It’s… weird. Nice, but weird.

And it is tearing at the walls that he spent all summer building.

Jaskier writes another letter to Pricilla.

Vesemir had told him that he will accept no return letter, but there are some strings he could pull if it were really necessary. Since they are hiding from Nilfgaard in a keep deeply hidden away by time and nature, Jaskier respects the need for it, and continues writing his one sided letters.

He is rather used to one sided communication, after all.

When he finally thinks he is about to get Eskel alone, it is not by his own doing.

“I’m sorry, I found a journal without a name, and I looked through it to see who it belonged to.”

Well, fuck.

“Jaskier. You are putting yourself at great risk.”

“And others even more so, if I don’t.” Jaskier replies, knowing exactly what he is referring to. Eskel blinks, then nods.

“I need to go back, Eskel. Before winter comes.”

“It’s too dangerous. The pass will be open for a few weeks more, but you are a wanted man.”

This is news.

“What do you know?” He asks quietly, accepting his journal back.

“I have no idea how you got into the prison cell, but word’s spread that the White Wolf busted you out.”

Fuck.

“That’s not good.”

“I’m sorry.” Eskel says, and Jaskier pats his shoulder, but he immediately pulls his hand back with a grimace. How can one see the spikes on his shoulders, and forget that they are, indeed, spikey?

“Shouldn’t have done that. Why do you keep wearing spikes?” Jaskier says. “ Also, no fault but my own, I suppose, with the jailbreaking and all that. Actually, scratch that, are all witchers allergic to just bailing someone out? Or is it just a Geralt thing?”

Jaskier tries to lighten the mood, but his stomach is sinking and his hands feel clammy. Time to write another letter or three.

“Witcher’s are all cheapskates, I’m afraid,” Eskel grins, but then sobers. “Do the others know?”

Jaskier shrugs.

“They didn’t ask. Nobody asked.”

At the same time, Geralt comes around the corner and spots them, a frown forming on his forehead. Of course.

“Right. Well, if you would keep this to yourself, I’d be immensely grateful.” Jaskier says quietly, and this time Eskel pats Jaskier’s shoulder.

“I got your back, bard,” the scarred witcher says, ironically, and now there is a lump forming in Jaskier’s throat.

Great. Fantastic. Splendid. Amazing.

Without waiting, Jaskier takes off towards his room to hide his journal again. Not to avoid Geralt. Not at all.

The letters he puts together are swiftly given to Vesemir. His eyebrows shoot up again when he spots one of the names addressed.

“Not a friend I would have expected of you, Pankratz.” Vesemir says quietly. “I hope you know what you are doing.”

Jaskier knows. It is a high risk game for everybody involved, with him in the direct line of fire.

“They will have to make do without me for a while.” Jaskier says quietly. “Or so Eskel tells me.”

“Ah, yes. Might be good to lay low for a while. You are welcome to stay the season with us, if you don’t have anywhere else to go, but we expect you to pull your weight.”

Does he have anywhere? Is he really welcome here?

The way Geralt looks at him sometimes, he is not so sure.

“Thank you. Though I might need to make a trip down to civilization soon. Some more clothes, paper and a lute. What kind of bard am I without a lute?” He asks, half joking.

“It’d be better if we sent down one of our usuals.” Vesemir says, scratching at his beard. “A man like yourself is sure to stand out anywhere in these small settlements.”

Was that a complement?

“Was that a complement?” Jaskier says, smirking, and Vesemir huffs goodnaturedly.

“I can see them looking, bard. I have eyes. And ears.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Jaskier asks, frowning, but Vesemir turns to go.

“Write me a list of what you need, and I’ll see what we can do.”

Aubry and Coën leave only a few days after Jaskier had written his list. He doesn’t really expect them to find him a lute, but something stringed to play would be nice. It’s rather likely they would find a 4 stringed lute at most, nothing like the one he smashed over that guard’s head, nor like the one he got from the Elven kind that he keeps safely in Oxenfurt.

Frankly, he’s glad that he couldn’t bring one of his nicer instruments.

The temperature changes could crack the wood, if not treated carefully, and it would be hell to keep that many strings tuned. He is pleasantly surprised when there is a knock on his door, and Geralt steps in with a leather case.

“The boys found you something,” he says by way of greeting, and Jaskier stands from his desk to accept the offered case.

He can feel the corner of his mouth tick up, and he wipes his hands on his trousers first to rid himself of stray ink before he dares touch it.

He grips it by the neck, feeling the smooth wood even through the leather of the case, and the gentle sounds of the strings as they are pinched in his grip.

“Oh, hello there,” he whispers to it, and opens it reverently.

She has six strings and a little care package, and she is terribly out of tune. The wood is old, loved, worn out, and he can see clearly where her previous player liked to put their fingers, the lacquer worn or marked to help the unpracticed one.

“What a beauty you are,” he tells her, and from the corner of his eyes, he sees Geralt leaning against the door frame, arms crossed. It almost looks like he is smiling, but Jaskier won’t turn his head to look.

There is a nervousness in him, like when you get to know a new lover. Excitement, fondness, curiosity.

He sits down on the bed, lute perched in his lap, and attempts to tune it. He fishes out the little tuning fork around his neck, raps it on his knuckles, plucks the matching string, and starts adjusting it.

Geralt makes a face; it’s probably not a nice sound to sensitive ears, but he remains.

“Did you know, it's common lutes have as many as 12 courses?” Jaskier says, turning the peg until it feels right.

“Courses?” Geralt asks.

“Strings. Oh, I might need to get this little darling some new pegs eventually, and that string looks a little worn out. We will fix you up, love.” He coos at the lute, and he hears Geralt huff.

“Doesn’t yours have 13?” Geralt asks, and Jaskier looks up, surprised.

“They do, yes.” Jaskier looks down, and his hands suddenly feel a little clammy, his cheeks warm. “The most I have ever heard of is 35, which is ridiculous. One of my old masters in Oxenfurt has one with 19, but I find those are best suited for academic music, rather than music for the masses.”

Geralt doesn’t say anything else, and when Jaskier looks up, Geralt is smiling.

“What?” He asks, but Geralt just shakes his head.

“Just haven’t talked like this in a while. It’s nice.”

That… is not what he expected him to say. Truth be told, he is still a little hurt. He still hasn't received a proper apology from that outburst from Geralt on the dragon hunt, nor any kind of thanks for just dropping everything to come with him again.

“This is going to take a while,” Jaskier says hesitantly, when Geralt doesn’t say anything else, nor move. “Technically, I should look her over first, then tune, but ah, can’t blame a man for being excited, can you?”

Jaskier looks down, puts his tuning fork back inside his shirt, where it clinks against the ring, and puts both hands on his lute.

“I don’t mind. If you don’t mind me staying.”

This is so weird.

Geralt stays, and listens to Jaskier tuning his new treasure. It takes him almost twenty minutes to see that Geralt is holding another bag, most likely one with the requested clothing.

They will have to wait a little more, as Jaskier is getting into position and putting the lute strap over his shoulder.

His right hand already stings a little, the new skin not used to the sharpness of the strings. Jaskier plays a few scales to get to know her, and to get back into it. He plays a little ditty from his past, humming the familiar nonsense words of the warm up song of his early days in the academy.

They don’t know each other yet, but it feels good to play again.

Just because he can, and because he wants to show off a little, Jaskier decides to test her limits. An old lullaby, embellished by the academics and time, harmonies and contrast ringing out in the room.

He smiles, until his index finger stings, and he hisses and puts it in his mouth.

“You alright?” Geralt asks, sitting up straighter from where he finally was sitting on the chair by Jaskier’s desk.

“‘m good,” Jaskier says around the finger in his mouth. “Just a cut. New skin’s not tough yet.”

He takes the finger out, and inspects it. His fingers are red, and the small cut is bleeding a little more than it should. Even his cuts are dramatic, he hears his teacher say, an echo from a distant past in the back of his mind.

“...New skin?” Geralt asks, face blank, and Jaskier looks up at him. The good atmosphere in the room is changing, and for some reason Jaskier feels like it is his fault. It makes him feel a bit defensive.

“Yes, you know, after the old skin blisters after a bad burn? Haven’t played in some time either, so that probably makes it worse, I suppose.” Jaskier can’t help but prod, to see if Geralt will take notice.

“You didn’t tell me about the burn,” Geralt says, his mouth a thin line.

“You didn’t ask.” Jaskier says, laying both hands flat over the strings, looking at Geralt challengingly. Good mood is all but gone now, and he feels that old bruise makes itself known again. This time he is the one poking it.

“Usually don’t have to.”

“Maybe I got tired of our one sided friendship,” Jaskier says before he can stop himself. Fuck, that is not how he meant to say that.

By the looks of it, Geralt doesn’t take it too well either.

He stands up, staring at Jaskier as if he grew a second head.

“Tired?” He says, hands clenching and unclenching against his sides.

“When was the last time you called me your friend, Geralt?” Jaskier says, starting to get agitated. “When was the last time you asked me something, anything that didn’t directly relate to Yennefer, Ciri, or you needing me to do something? When was the last time you apologized, for anything you have said to me?”

Jaskier stands up and puts the lute down on the bed, lest he does something he regrets too. All the words are pouring out of him now, why risk breaking anything but his own heart?

“Maybe I grew tired of being the only one trying.” He grabs his handkerchief to stop the blood from his finger, clenching his hand hard around it.

“Why are you here then?” Geralt spits, and it’s like a slap.

“I ask myself the same thing every day,” Jaskier shoots back, finding himself taking a step forward. “Why am I here, when clearly nobody wants me to be?”

Geralt stares at him, and Jaskier can’t really tell what that expression is.

“Are you leaving?” Geralt asks through clenched jaws.

“Can’t. Apparently there are consequences for being broken out of jail. Especially when it happens to have been by someone like the White Wolf.”

This time, Geralt visibly flinches.

“Didn’t think about that, did you?” Jaskier says. “I was so glad you found me again, I didn’t give a damn about the consequences. I pretended we could start again, maybe you would want me by your side, walking next to you for once, not just trailing behind like some forlorn fucking puppy.”

Jaskier looks at his bed, looks at the oh so loved lute, that had seen so many sets of hands, every scratch and tear a part of a journey.

“Vesemir has allowed me to stay through the winter. Unless you’ve all got something against that. Let me know, and I’ll be on my way.”

Jaskier wishes he wasn’t in his room. Wishes he could just leave. Instead, he has to stand there like an idiot and wait until either Geralt does, or opens his mouth, for once.

“I didn’t realize…” Geralt begins but trails off.

“That actions have consequences, Geralt? That words do damage too? Did you learn nothing from your entire Butcher experience?”

That is a low blow, and he knows it, but he doesn’t feel like being nice right now.

It’s remarkable that Geralt hasn’t blown up at him yet, which in itself is probably not a very high standard to hold anyone against.

“You are still bleeding,” Geralt says eventually, and Jaskier looks down to see that he’s dropped his handkerchief. The witcher bends down and picks it up, grabbing Jaskier’s hand along the way.

Jaskier is too stunned to protest, and Geralt lifts his hand enough to inspect the cut. It’s not bleeding much anymore, but from where it’s placed, it is likely open easily.

Geralt pinches the tip of Jaskier’s finger with the handkerchief, and Jaskier suddenly flashes back to another room, another time when someone held his hand.

It takes effort not to just yank his hand back, his pulse rising and his palms getting clammy again. Geralt looks at him from under his brow, concerned, but Jaskier pinches his lips shut.

“Will you tell me about it?”

“About what?” Jaskier manages when Geralt breaks the stare to reach for some linen Jaskier has been using as bandages every now and then.

“What I missed this past year. How to be your friend. Where we go from here.”

Geralt makes a tight wrap around his finger, to the best of his ability. Not the best place for a bandage, but at least Geralt has experience.

“I can’t tell you where we go from here, Geralt. If you ask, I can tell you about the months since the dragon hunt, but the rest, you will have to figure out along with me.”

Geralt holds Jaskier’s hand in his for a moment longer, neither of them looking at the other. The witcher’s hand is not much larger than his. With a gentle thumb, Geralt moves Jaskier’s fingers, allowing him to see what the firefucker did to him.

“You and Eskel seem to get along,” Geralt says carefully. “Does he know?”

The corner of Jaskier’s mouth tugs upwards in half a smile. Geralt is fishing, but Jaskier won’t say unless there is an actual question.

“Some. He found a journal of mine that I thought I had hidden.”

Geralt frowns and releases Jaskier’s hand. It drops to his side, and they both just stand there in the middle of the room, looking anywhere but at each other.

“You don’t usually hide your songs.”

“It wasn’t a song book.”

“... Can I see?”

Fuck it, why not. Whatever is happening in this room tonight will change things either way.

The new hiding place isn’t really a hiding place, just the drawer in his desk. He hands Geralt the leather bound pages, and Geralt opens and looks through it.

At first glance, it looks like his economic books. Taking stock of things bought and sold, to who and where.

Geralt glances up at Jaskier, who just nods at the book again.

Flipping a few pages, Geralt starts to make connections. When he looks up at Jaskier again, his face is carefully blank.

“You are the Sandpiper.”

“I am.” Jaskier agrees.

“You smuggled elves out of the big cities.”

“Indeed. Don’t worry, I have taken precautions for if I’m not around.”

If he should be discovered. If he were not to come back.

“Jaskier, you are putting yourself at risk.”

“And so are you, every time you take a contract. Don’t you dare tell me it’s not the same.”

“So it’s for the money?”

Jaskier sniffs, glaring at the witcher.

“No. It’s for the people who don't have anyone else to turn to. Because when they run out of elves, they will find new targets. You can’t tell me you took every contract for the coin, I have seen you accept contracts for half of your rate if they can’t afford it.”

“Is that why your fingers were blistered?” Geralt asks.

“No. That’s… something else. Something I’d rather not talk about tonight, if you don’t mind.”

Jaskier knows that if he does, he will spend the rest of the evening wondering if he gave anything away, wondering where Rience is, who else he is burning because Jaskier got away.

Geralt gives the book back, and Jaskier places it back in the drawer.

“Rest your hand, Jaskier. Heal before you play again.”

The room is strangely empty when Geralt has left.

Jaskier sits on the bed, staring at his hands for a long while, until he finally decides to look at what was in the bag of clothes that Geralt brought, and Jaskier promptly forgot about in favor of the lute.

Looking through it,it seems like Geralt might have added a shirt of his own to Jaskier’s new wardrobe.

He shoves it to the bottom of the pile.

Jaskier doesn’t make it down to dinner that night.

After that day, things slowly progress in small steps.

Everything goes to shit, however, when Voleth Meir makes herself known.

Ciri’s body moves at the possessing demon’s will, and she manages to stab three witchers badly before the alarm is raised.

Yennefer wakes him up, pulling him from a dream into a nightmare. She needs him.

Somehow they always need him.

The powers channeled through Ciri’s small body are strong, destructive.

Jaskier is hiding under a table when a large creature steps through a portal, a creature he has never seen before. It sweeps at the witchers, and Voleth Meir laughs with Ciri’s mouth.

It takes Yennefer tearing open her veins for Voleth Meir to finally let go, for Ciri to free herself from the snares her mind had been tangled in.

With a scream, Ciri, Yennefer and Geralt disappear from view through a portal.

Jaskier sees Lambert land on his back, leg bleeding badly after a swipe from one of the creatures still roaming. He pulls him to the relative safety of his table, and tears his tunic enough to wrap Lambert’s leg.

“Thank you,” Lambert grumbles as he gets his bearings, the commotion in the room making it hard to hear. Jaskier just nods, tying the makeshift bandage off.

Finally, it’s over.

And somehow, Yennefer got her powers back.

The days after are a mess. One of the stabbed witchers doesn’t make it, and Ciri has been hiding in her room, guilt ridden, making herself as small as physically possible.

Geralt tries to coax her out, but he still has too little time, too many things to sort out. With her newly regained magic, Yennefer heals who she can, focusing on major injuries until she almost exhausts herself completely.

All the while, Jaskier is left to his own devices. Again.

Not that there is anything he can actually do for them. He isn’t medically trained, nor does have magical abilities.

It leaves him wondering how he survived the whole ordeal at all, and while he feels lucky about it, there is also a morsel of guilt.

So Jaskier finds himself knocking on Ciri’s door. She is reluctant to let him in, but with some honey cake bribes, she finally relents.

This, he knows. This, he can help with.

A young girl, plagued with guilt and fear, struggling to get a hold of herself and what she did, he knows how to help her.

“Not what you did. What your body did, under someone else's control.” Jaskier reminds her between bites. “I might not have gone through what you have, but I know what it is like to feel helpless. Fear and expectations don’t mix well, especially not when a murderous witch is involved.”

They talk a lot, mostly Ciri actually, and maybe they cry a little. After they finish their stolen cakes, and Jaskier has sworn not to tell Lambert, Jaskier brings out his lute to let Ciri play.

It seems she has a basic knowledge, plucking out the chords of a famous love song.

Sadly, not one that Jaskier had written, but at least it wasn’t one of Valdo Marx’s. Which he tells her.

And then she proceeds to play one of Marx’s love songs.

When Geralt finally joins them, Jaskier is chasing a giggling Ciri, who is hugging the lute close, calling her a traitor and a terrible little child, cursing Valdo for tainting her poor, innocent ears.

The first day Ciri dares to join them for breakfast, she hides behind Geralt. Both Yennefer and Jaskier hover, ready to step in between if anyone has anything to say.

They don’t.

Lambert is the first one to approach, bandage and limp both gone, Jaskier notes. He sits opposite of Geralt and Ciri, slamming his plate down, his fork rattling down across the table.

“Hey, it happens. What is a little mind control between friends?” is all he says, then digs into his food with the worst table manners Jaskier has seen in a while.

The tension breaks when Jaskier starts berating him for it, and is met with a mouthful of food telling him exactly where he can stuff his manners.

Ciri smiles when Eskel settles next to her, bumping their arms together.

The others make a toast to the lion cub among the wolves, the one who finally found a way to shut Lambert up. Even if it was by challenging him to stuff his mouth full enough to almost choke.

The first snow falls not long after.

The last letter has been sent, the last visit to the village by the foot of the mountains has been made, and those witchers unwilling to be stuck for the season have left.

It is colder than a grave hag’s asshole, as Eskel declares one day, with Coën immediately wanting to know why he knows that piece of information.

“I am a man of science,” Eskel grins and winks, and Lambert almost spits out his mead.

Ciri and Yennefer are slowly bonding, their first lessons taking place by the giant lake below the keep.

Jaskier takes care of his lute, works on new material, and with Vesemir and Eskel’s help, looks for new routes for the Sandpiper to take.

Geralt finds him more often now, seeking out his company rather than just tolerating it.

For a moment, Jaskier had expected him and Yennefer to fall back into bed as soon as the air was cleared, but if they have, they never said.

Instead, Yennefer spends more and more time with Ciri, trying to work out ways to control her power when they realize just how strong the young girl already is.

Sometimes they all do things all together.

They go ice skating.

They lose a snowball fight, pelted until they yell for mercy.

Jaskier finally learns of the hot springs, much to his outrage.

“You mean I could have dipped into preheated water all along?!” he yells, waving his arms around dramatically, and is rewarded when Ciri snickers, and Geralt bites down a smile.

It makes something in his chest soar.

The walls from the past year are slowly being torn down.

Deliberately so, in fact.

Piece by piece, Jaskier decides to let Geralt in.

It’s not perfect. It’s painful and it’s terrifying to let himself be open to hope again, to trust that there is friendship this time.

When Geralt learns about the firefucker, he is gone for an entire day.

Jaskier has no idea where he went, and he is feeling terribly vulnerable after talking about it, hands shaking and heart racing. Yennefer finds him outside her workroom, and she pulls him inside, cursing Geralt all the way.

“Let him sulk,” she says. “If he can make a hardship his fault, he will. When he gets his head out of his ass, he’ll come back.”

Later that night, Jaskier hears Yennefer rip Geralt a new one for leaving like that, when Jaskier clearly was shaken up and shouldn’t have been left alone.

Ciri learns about the firefucker days after, and angry tears roll down her cheeks when she realizes what Jaskier went through for her, even before they met.

They sit on the bridge outside the gates, feet dangling over the edge. The air is cold enough for their breath to fog, and Ciri’s slightly damp hair to freeze.

Jaskier thumbs her tears away and presses a kiss to the top of her head.

“The whole world could be at my heels, and I would do it all again to keep you safe.”

“Sometimes, I just want the world to burn.” Ciri whispers, and Jaskier tucks her into his side.

Geralt calls him his friend now.

It’s good.

Jaskier gets to borrow a horse, and they go out riding in the snow around the keep. They argue about whose turn it is to do the laundry, and who is the worse cook.

When the window to Jaskier’s room breaks for reasons Lambert and Ciri swear up and down they know nothing about, Geralt simply moves him into his own.

The bed is wide enough for the both of them, which makes Jaskier think of who else might have shared it before him, but he pushes that thought down.

It has no place here, nothing to stand on.

They actually interact less after sharing a room, both of them needing their own space during the day.

They learned that after a vicious fight, where Geralt found all Jaskier’s sore spots once again and pounced.

“Do you ever tire of your own voice?!” he asked nastily, and that shut Jaskier right up.

He slept in the main hall for three days, until Geralt actually apologized.

After that first apology, the rest came a little easier.

They talked about what happened on the mountain. They talked about Jaskier’s past, and Geralt confessed that sometimes, since way before the dragon hunt, he thought Jaskier was only following him for the stories, for the fame it brought him.

It was Jaskier’s turn to apologize, for not seeing that, for not respecting privacy and boundaries set. He realizes he might have been blind to Geralt’s reactions to his songs, distracted with the fame their association granted them.

“But,” Jaskier says,”Not once would I have left you, even if you never lifted your sword ever again.”

To this, Geralt admits to how he always expects to be abandoned, or to be left behind.

“The thought of you leaving, or dying, it’s terrifying. I don’t think I could piece myself together again. So I left first.”

It’s like a kick in the chest, when Jaskier realizes.

That is the first night they actually sleep close on purpose. Geralt is a nasty little blanket thief, but Jaskier makes due by simply curling in close.

Midwinter comes, and a new year grows on the horizon. Darkness grants them a perfect view of the stars above, and the snow a blanket to let the world sleep.

Jaskier still is not allowed to join them on hunting trips, but he is getting good with a bow, under Vesemir’s sharp eyes.

Another sleepless night, another early morning, at the first light of dawn, when the first rays find their way through the dirty windows of Geralt’s room, that is when Jaskier dares to press a kiss to Geralt’s forehead.

Convinced that the witcher is asleep, he leans on his elbow, tracing a wild strand of hair behind his ear. It’s a quick kiss, dry lips against warm skin, making Jaskier’s entire body ache.

This is why he feared bringing down those walls. This is why he withstood the bruises, an armor to keep his heart at bay.

He doesn’t expect Geralt to open his eyes and gaze up at him. Doesn’t expect Geralt to wrap a hand around his neck and pull him down, pressing a kiss of his own to Jaskier’s forehead.

Resting against Geralt’s chest, Jaskier draws in a shaking breath.

“Ask me, Geralt.” He whispers into the dawning day.

“Do you love me?” Geralt whispers back, arms tightening around Jaskier’s back, pulling him closer.

“I do.” His voice wavers, eyes stinging. “Where do we go from here?”

“Wherever we want to. We’ll figure it out.”

“Geralt?”

“Hm?”

“Do you…?”

Jaskier doesn’t dare ask. Too scared of the question, even more scared of the answer.

Instead of replying, Geralt rolls them over.

Now he is the one leaning on his elbows, hovering inches from Jaskier. They are so close, he can feel every breath Geralt takes, see the pulse jump in his throat.

Instead of replying, Geralt kisses him.

A surprisingly chaste kiss, lingering and soothing and earth shattering and heart wrenching.

“I do.” Geralt whispers finally, lips brushing together. “Whatever that will do to us, I do.”

Come spring and the first visit to the village below the mountain, Vesemir finds him with ten envelopes and a small box.

The box is a set of strings and pegs and lute varnish they couldn’t get before the pass closed this winter. Most of the letters are from Pricilla, updating him on what is going on in Oxenfurt and the Sandpiper network, all well coded.

Jaskier realizes he can’t stay anymore.

The world around them is growing ever more restless and chaotic, and the only way to be prepared is to be out there.

Parting with Geralt is harder than it ever was before.

Being alone is dangerous, but being with them is even more so.

He has an organization to run. Stories to tell. Lies to spread.

During the winter, Jaskier came to realize how he can make a difference. On the road, with a lute on his back, in inns and taverns, the way he always did.

As they part, on a crossroad that finally will lead them to part, they stand next to new Roach and Pegasus, arms wrapped around each other and foreheads pressed together.

“Ask me,” Jaskier whispers.

“Won’t you tell me?” Geralt whispers back, making Jaskier huff and smile.

“I won’t make it that easy for you, witcher.” He teases, and Geralt steals a kiss, humming softly into it.

“So I’ll have to come find you then, and ask you to tell me again.” Geralt mumbles against his lips.

Jaskier will hold him to that.

Words held back until they meet again.

The road is long, and full of dangers.

Jaskier hopes it will lead him to Kaer Morhen once more.

150 notes · View notes

muzicgenerator · 1 year ago

Note

pls could u do a tom kaulitz angst? like he’s arguing w reader and mentions something he knows the reader doesn’t like bringing up, and he has to make it up to her, then it can turn into fluff <3

yep here it is!!

hope u like it and sorry for late reply T_T

(BRO OHHH MY GOD THE ORIGINAL STORYLINE DIDNT SAVE 😭😭😭 so i just made a new one which is this one AGHHH SO MAD RN btw i didnt proof read the entire thing)

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

Atonement

✮

Pairing: Tom Kaulitz x Reader

Genre: a bit Angsty, Fluff

Warnings: None

Request Status: closed :(

✩°｡⋆⸜ 🎧✮ Last Night on Earth : Green Day

Playful bantering was one of the things you and Tom would do everyday in your relationship.

Sure, serious arguments would rise up which a simple kiss and genuine apology would quickly fix.

However those two won't do it right now.

"The hell do you mean I have trust issues?!"

"What?! It's true! Your ex cheated on you so you're scared to trust me; It's not like I'm gonna do what that guy did!"

Definitely, Tom shouldn't have brought your ex up who has no relation to this quarrel.

He knew how much of a prick he was to you and how he treated you; he even witnessed how devastated you were when you once came to him to seek comfort when you found out for the second time he had been cheating.

And he knew damn well you never wanna hear about the jerk ever again.

However, you did appreciate him admitting he wouldn't repeat the history you had with your past lover.

"The fuck, Tom? That bitch has no connection whatsoever about what we're fighting about right now.

And I saw the way you looked at her! It's like, if I didn't interrupt you both would've shared spits by then." enraged by what he said; you raised your voice to match his volume - which was unlike you since you're the composed one out of you two during serious arguments.

"Sorry but he kinda does! This issue you're having surely started with him. I remember the way you wasted your snot and tears on him and I dried it off.

And please stop being overdramatic, she's just a fan and I wanted to make sure she's happy. Not only with her; I mean with everyone of them!"

Tom tried hard to defend himself instead of admitting his wrongdoing.

"You are such an ass for bringing that shit up again when you know damn well your ass had issues too that I helped you get over with and all I've ever done was try my greatest to understand and care for you!

All I ever wanted was for you to stop looking at other people and look at me.. Am I asking for too much?" your voice whispered in offence and slightly croaked which made you resent yourself more.

Tom realized with wide eyes of what he had done,

"No, no of course not ____. No, look- I'm really sorry for what I said, I really am and-"

"Just shut the hell up, Tom. Save it, I don't wanna hear it right now." you harshly brushed past him to storm off to your apartment's bedroom in fear of hot tears falling down to your cheeks.

He sighed; ashamed in himself. Tom truly regrets letting those harsh and unnecessary words slip his blunt mouth. He knew he was better than this - definitely, he should control his mouth more and think about what he should say carefully during times like this.

The night spent alone in the bed you'd always share with Tom felt cruel.

Not for the reason he's not by your side; it's rather the fact that you're in bed without properly making up with him since you'd always forgive one another the same day.

A big part of you wanted to forgive him - believe that he truly didn't mean what he told you and only accidentally slipped because of the heat in the moment; that we all say things we don't mean when we're mad, and that he really wouldn't stab you on the back with a woman like your past lover did.

The smaller part of you scolded for being such an idiot; for believing a man would stay loyal - that you should call it off before he could do any further damage.

Honestly, you felt devastated just thinking about not being with him; so you eventually came into terms with yourself that the fire will settle down and you'll forgive him and he'll do better.

Don't know when it'll die down but it will. Hopefully soon.

Some relationships are worth fighting for, like you have with Tom.

Hence you will stay strong and prepare for many wars.

But tonight; you wanted and allowed yourself to fall asleep being upset and disappointed at Tom.

You'll let tomorrow do its thing.

✮✮✮

It was the next day and the back of your head was pounding alongside a stiff neck.

You sat up and glanced at the digital clock placed on your night table that read 11:37 AM.

After stretching your limbs out while reminiscing the night before; you decided it's time to wash your face and start making lunch for yourself.

When you turned the knob and pushed it open; you were greeted with the aroma of your favourite dish; one that was always served to you as a child when you still lived with your family - one that you shared its recipe and process with your lover.

"Tom?" you asked in disbelief. You were certain he had left since your ears picked up the sound of the front door being pushed open then close in the middle of the night.

Certainty assured your mind that you'd rather not see his face first thing in the morning after such a night. Boy, were you wrong.

Your lover turned his head quickly; unaware of your presence since he's so caught up finishing, as well as perfecting the dish.

"Oh- love, you're awake. I um.. made breakfast but you didn't get up and it's uh, it's almost time for lunch so I thought I'd make your favourite." he stumbled over his words; which is bizarre.

"The pancakes are on the table, you can eat them later as a snack."

You nodded your head with a tight lipped smile and mumbled a thanks before heading to the bathroom.

Once the door had shut; you quickly drowned your face with water to remove the image of Tom cooking without a shirt on.

It's not like it's the first time you've seen him like that; but the way you're reacting right now is how you feel when you catch him in these types of situations - preferably without the post-fight shit going.

After peeing, washing your hands, brushing your teeth washing and drying your face, and doing your skin care - you forced yourself to go back outside for you cannot stay in the bathroom forever.

When you opened and closed the baby blue painted door; your eyes wandered off to the table and drooled at the sight of the newly cooked meal.

Tom patted the seat beside him with a smile; gesturing you to sit beside him.

You had no choice but to join him for lunch; after all, you are starving.

Instead of giving in to his request, you sat in front of him.

Instead of painting a frown on his lips; he still kept his genuinely proud smile (from cooking such a delicious dish) and handed you your plate and utensils - to which you accepted.

"Let's eat?" Tom asked.

"I don't wanna eat without talking about last night." you said with a straight face.

The man in front of you softly breathed a sigh,

"You're right." he agreed with a nod

"I'll start by saying I'm really sorry, and I didn't mean what I said. I just want you to know I would never even dare to think about betraying you like that, and I was an ass for what I did." Tom seemed to look everywhere but your eyes.

He couldn't bring himself to look at your mesmerizing hues for he was certain his shredded heart would be turned into dust.

"I don't even know why I said those things, I- I know this sounds like bullshit but I swear I really don't mean those things and you're the only person who I have my eyes on.

Please give me another chance I- I'll be better now, promise!" he trailed off and fearfully continued;

"But y'know if uh.. if you don't and wanna call it o-"

"Shut up Tom we're not breaking up." you sighed

"I know you said those to defend what you did, and it slipped out because of the heat of the moment. We all say shit we don't mean when mad, I understand. But what I don't understand is why you'd caress her cheek and look into her eyes like that?" your eyes examined his facial expressions and only saw genuine regret on his face. You hoped he'd look at your eyes and tell you directly why.

Hence, before his ready mouth started to explain; you tell him, "Tom, look into my eyes, please."

You caught the way the ball of his throat bopped up and down; swallowing his saliva. His eyes slowly trailed up from the table to your chest, neck, chin, nose, then eyes.

"She said she'd been a fan since the very beginning of the band's debut. She loved all us a lot, especially me. I asked her if meeting us was a dream come true, she said yeah, and we talked a bit more. Then she asked me to touch her face because she really couldn't believe that it was all happening, which I did."

Tom would look away from the two windows of your soul for a second before meeting again.

He was replied with silence; which kind of scared him.

"____? Please say something."

"For God's sake Tom, why didn't you just start with that last night when I brought it up?"

Tom rapidly blinked once, twice, thrice, then for the fourth time. "... I must've forgot to bring it up because I was so caught up in the moment."

You laughed; a true one, "You mean too focused into bringing my ex up?"

He was speechless by how just a second ago you were dead ass serious, and now crying laughing at what you said.

"Sorry, I'm done laughing now." you giggled before continuing, "Fine, I'll forgive you if you tell me where you went last night."

"I went back to my apartment and did some thinking how to make it up to you and slept there. I went out really early to buy groceries so i can cook your favourite food here."

It was your turn to be speechless.

"...You seriously did that?" you asked with doubt in your voice.

"Yeah, I mean the proof is on the table." Tom chuckled.

You said nothing and finally dug into the 5 star looking meal, soon your lover did as well.

"Sooo, are we good?" Tom hopefully asked after sipping his water from the cylinder glass.

"I guess so." you blessed him with a small smile to which he returned with a big one.

Conversation flowed naturally between you as you ate the savoury food.

If Tom didn't make it as a famous guitarist, he'd definitely be a winner in Hell's Kitchen.

After Tom cleaned put the dishes to the sink; you insisted to wash it since he cooked. He declined numerous times but it wasn't going anywhere since you're more stubborn than him.

"All right, fine. Only if you let me hug you from behind." Tom made a deal.

"Pshh, why're you asking as if you don't do that whenever I do shit in the kitchen?"

Tom rolled his eyes with a smirk drawn on his lips as a reply and proceeded to snake his large hands to your waist; then pressing his chest to your back and resting his chin on the crown of your head.

Nothing could be heard other than the clanking of pans, plates, and utensils, along with the flow of the running water from the faucet.

The comfortable verbal silence and physical contact was very much needed after a fight.

After drying your hands with a cloth; you walked towards the couch and sat with your boyfriend still embracing you from behind.

"What do you wanna watch?" you turned your head to the side to look up at his face.

"Whatever you want, I'm fine with anything." Tom looked down to your eyes, then lips.

Slowly, he leaned his fave closer to yours so he could taste your lips.

Once contact had been made; you couldn't help but melt even more to his touch and wrap your arms around his neck - and he couldn't help but deepen the kiss and caress your waist and back.

Soon enough, the passionate kiss had come to an end to catch their breaths.

"I love you so much. You know that, right?" Tom stared into her hues as the tip of their noses touched.

You slowly nodded and brought your hands up to his hollow cheeks, "I love you more." you said before pulling his face closer to kiss each other's lips once again.

Tom mumbled in-between the kisses, "I love you the most, sweetheart." before deepening it. His tongue soon entered your mouth and both your hands rubbed and caressed your bodies.

The hot post-fight make out session would last as long as half the length of the movie you played in the middle of the session; playing Atonement for the millionth time from your entire life.

After pulling your mouths away due to your jaws hurting; you slept and cuddled like babies.

Feeling the safest in each other's arms.

#tokio hotel x reader #tokio hotel #tom kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz #request #bill kaulitz #george listing #gustav schäfer

241 notes · View notes

luna-rainbow · 9 months ago

Note

Thoughts about this quote from AM about how Sam doesn't trust Bucky and will probably never completely forgive him for being the Winter Soldier?

Here's the link to the tweet I saw (I don't know how to include screenshots sorry 😭😭):

https://twitter.com/DianneR_99/status/1785867853238833641?t=NUhkilfwG2guZQx31-b82g&s=19

It's apparently from the official Marvel Studios' collector special TFATWS book.

Why is it so hard for people at Marvel to acknowledge that Bucky is a victim not some reformed villain?

(Also please feel free to ignore this ask, I know people have been dogpiled in the past for being slightly critical of AM and the last thing I want is for you to get hate because of me.)

It’s okay I think I’ve blocked most of them, or they’ve gotten tired of dogpiling me and blocked me. If I’ve missed anyone feel free to announce yourselves to get a block 😌

Thanks for bringing this to my attention!

I’ve said in other asks about AM’s comments on Bucky, I never blame an actor for not understanding the nuances of another character. That’s not his job. Understanding Bucky is the job of Sebastian Stan and the writers.

However, I know it’s tempting to compare him to CEvans, who had always spoken so affectionately of Bucky. Remember that Bucky’s story in the movies was complementary to Steve’s, meaning that CEvans had to understand Bucky's tragedy in order to understand Steve’s pain and guilt. To CEvans/Steve, it was important that Bucky was a wronged hero, because it rationalises why Steve would go such lengths to help him. For the entire trilogy, Bucky, and particularly Bucky's suffering, was very much impetus for Steve’s personal journey and growth. I've talked about the narrative motifs in other meta and I want to emphasise I don't mean this from a shipping lens - I mean that thematically, events that happen to Bucky have always been a major driver for Steve to make important narrative choices, and it is true even if you see their relationship as platonic.

Which…I guess brings us to the crux of the disk horse that brought about this tweet. No, Bucky is in no way important personally or narratively to Sam. Sam doesn’t grow or change because he cares about Bucky, although fortunately at least Bucky’s TFATWS arc involves him growing because he cares about Sam. We know Bucky is not personally or narratively important to Sam because of what AM has just said — Sam will always see Bucky as the guy who tore off his wings and kicked him off a helicarrier. Not a WW2 war hero, not a prisoner of war tortured into blank amnesia, not a survivor who had to rebuild most of his identity ground up, not a veteran living with PTSD without any social supports. These same views are echoed by his fans, who will scoff at everything I’ve said above and say we’re trying to “woobify a white fave” without knowing what woobify means. Sam does not care about what Bucky has been through, we know because the writing of the story has told AM that it is not important to understand who Bucky is or what Bucky has been through. All AM needs to do is to banter with this guy like he’s still annoyed at him over an incident 10 years ago when he had amnesia.

Again, I don't blame AM for this, because he can only work with what the writers have told him about the intended relationship between Sam and Bucky. And to be fair, he plays it like it is. At no point does it feel like Sam values or trusts Bucky beyond "annoying guy I put up with for work". I know some fans like to point to the Louisiana scene as proof that Sam trusts Bucky and has him as part of the family -- which would be great fanon if 1) AM didn't just contradict that and b) Sam spends most of the deleted scenes calling Bucky "the Winter Soldier" like the guy had any say in the moniker. And no, Bucky confessing his deeds to Yori is not Bucky reclaiming his identity as the Winter Soldier.

This is not an indictment on the ship, by the way, because you can wrangle canon to make it work, and shipping has been built on far less. I've got nearly 50k words on AO3 proving I've tried. But TFATWS canon is full of things happening off camera and the truth is...we never saw mutual trust and affection on camera between the two men. We saw two guys perpetually annoyed at and annoying to each other, and AM just gave the reason why.

#tfatws critical #fandom wank #asks

53 notes · View notes

dearweirdme · 4 months ago

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/dearweirdme/763441425262280704/httpswwwtumblrcomdearweirdme7634249545638379

I’m just going to say this because I feel sick about all the things I am seeing people say about the travel show and how Jimin and Jungkook probably felt about it and before I even proceed, no I am not a jikooker.

You said Jk didn’t know what they were filming, Rain that isn’t true and I think I know where this is coming from. It’s probably from that post on X from a JJk where Jimin was repeating that they are filming a show to leave for fans while they were at a brewery. JK did know what they were filming and where they were going, that conversation was just banter and not that Jk didn’t know. I don’t think Jimin and Jk knew about all the places they would go to or all thw activities because i’m sure the staff planned that but according to that article from forbes about the show, Jimin and Jungkook were the ones who proposed where they would like to go, what they would like to eat and what they would like to do.

I have seen so many people saying that staff kept interfering and giving them cues but that is literally not true. The only time where it seemed like something like that happened was during the ham and pink sausage saga, but Jungkook saying “that’s enough” was him telling the staff it was enough that was him talking to himself. Just like someone could be doing something and then says louldy, “ok done” so he was saying that’s enough swimming for him and he got out of the pool. When the staff laughed and said “what’s with the distance” in the behind the scenes videos, they weren’t prompting jikook to go closer to each other, if they were why would they leave it in? The staff noticed the hanky panky Jikook were doing and then laughed and commented about it and then Jimin started chasing Jungkook. That wasn’t the staff prompting them to go closer that is a situation that was been twisted, taken out of context or misunderstood.

People keep saying Jungkook couldn’t get out of it because of his contract but they forget that the show didn’t start out as the company’s idea but Jimin’s which he spoke to Jungkook about and Jungkook said he agreed. Jimin said he pushed for it (meaning that the company was probably a little hard to convince not Jk because Jk had already agreed) because he knew that if he didn’t it wouldn’t have happened. This is another statement that people misunderstood. Jungkook had accepted that he would love the idea to do a show when Jimin first mentioned but Jimin knew that Jungkook probably didn’t mind if it happened or didn’t happen so he knew it was up to him to convince the company to make it happen and that’s why he went ahead to push for it. It’s not that he had to force jungkook to do it. So seeing as it wasn’t the company’s idea in the first place, if jungkook didn’t want to do it, he could have simply told Jimin no before Jimin went ahead to make it happen.

After shooting in NY, they went ahead to shoot in two more locations which Jungkook proposed and according to that article from forbes, they originally didn’t intend to shoot more after Jeju but Jimin and Jungkook were the ones who said they would like to do more to leave behind for fans. If Jungkook hated the first trip so much, why did he agree and even proposed locations for two more? By the time the trip was ending Jimin and Jungkook both looked sad that it was and Jungkook even said he wanted to go back to the first day of the trip. Jungkook said he would think about certain meals and moments when he is in the military. Do you really believe that those were lines written and given to him to repeat?

People have picked apart every single word and action from those guys and the truth is, anyone can find a problem when they look hard enough even if there isn’t one. Like right now, you just said Jungkook didn’t know what they were filming based on a misunderstanding. People called Jimin a liar just because he mixed up a memory from seven years ago and then later corrected him. People are saying staff gave them directions when that isn’t true. People said Jungkook told the staff “that’s enough” when he didn’t. We all know Jungkook talks to himself alot but they took this moment and twisted it. If Jungkook really didn’t want to be there then why did he do it? Let’s not talk about contracts because deep down nobody really believes he was contractually bonded to do that show which Jimin came up with.

I also feel like people are projecting their own feelings about that show unto Jungkook because if you are saying that it was unfair to him when he didn’t even think it was or had an issue with the timing then what is that called? People are also assuming that the show felt like hard work to him even though based on his own words it was a moment to get away from everyday life, it was an escape and it was freeing. When they tried coming up with names for the show, jungkook is the one who proposed they name it “I feel free” or “escape from everyday life” why would he instinctively think of names like that if the show just felt like bondage to him? Would everyone have been saying the same thing about this show if Jungkook did it with literally anyone else? Did anyone stop to consider that this show might have actually been good for Jk because he could take a break from work to just do a bunch of activities he liked or eat what he likes and not physically exerting himself with actual work?

Jungkook’s words and actions in that show don’t match with anything you people are saying about it and. It doesn’t matter how much he said he was happy, doesn’t matter how much he laughed or smiled, doesn’t matter that he proposed other locations, doesn’t matter that he continued doing the show after the first location, doesn’t matter that he instinctively said he wants to go back to the first day of their trip. Everyone ignores all this and then go to look for any moment where he wasn’t smiling enough or wasn’t saying he had fun enough, use those moments as proof that he was miserable.

I don’t think Jk had any mixed feelings about the show. I think he genuinely loved it because he said he did, because he looked like he was having fun an enjoying himself and because no one would want to go back to the start of a trip they had mixed feelings about. I don’t expect you to accept it but there is alot of projection going on right now and when you really dig deep, you realize that this is all because he did that show with Jimin.

I don’t know if you care for it but this is an article explaining how things came to be. I know you would say that it cannot be trusted because Hybe gave out the information but did anything Jimin and Jungkook say contradict anything written here?

https://x.com/bighit_music/status/1821787058655862896?s=46

Hi anon!

You are mad (at me, at Tkkrs, at fandom who agrees with mine and others thoughts), because you feel my words put Jm and Jk in a bad ligth and portrays them as liars. That is on you, not on me. It means that you feel them doing their jobs is lying and being deceptive, I don't think that.. I think they are doing their jobs.

I understand wanting to look at their (all BTS's) content and feel like it's all natural and all their own choices. We have so much proof of that not being true though. Do we forget about the times they were clearly overworked? Do we forget about them telling us they can't share everything. They talk about editing. It's no secret staff is often involved. It's clear they were often unaware of what was going to be asked of them on a run episode. They do not plan these things themselves. I've not even been in fandom for that long, but I can clearly see that BTS is managed and things are planned for them. It has to be that way, because they themselves do not have time for that at all. Sure they suggest certain things, and staff knows them well enough to consider what things members would like... but it is truly not for nothing that BTS have a lot of staff around, those staff are not there just for funsies, they are there to make sure production goes well.

The article you linked doesn't do much for me. It's based on a conversation with AYS's director... ofcourse he's gonna say those things.. he's literally on a paycheck.

I am not on twitter and am not influenced by what others think in general, though I was send that specific moment and that made me look at the footage again. It was not banter imo. There was banter mixed in, by them playfighting with the go-pro's and that gave it a light feel. But I think Jk's question about not knowing what they were filming has truth in it. I think he was pondering about what they were supposed to do. Perhaps not about what they were going to be doing in a practical way, but more about what he and Jm were supposed to be talking about and doing together. While in basis it's the same as a BV or ITS, I think to them it must've felt very different with only the two of them (ergo.. the talk about missing other members). I think the show being not-fun to watch was a concern they might've had.

I don't really do the 'I've seen so many people say this and that..' I have my own thoughts and I don't realy feel responsible for what other Tkkrs say. Some things I agree with, some stuff I don't.. other things I'm open to. I think staff intervention was clear. A small and insignificant thing is the changing of the umbrella's at Jeju. Staff giving Jk Jm's medicine. Things are done for perception as well. Having a car, a scooter, and a motorbike there was unnatural... you can't tell me you think they actually would've driven that way without camera's being there. It's kinda linked to all members driving in separate cars to a member's enlistment day.. it's a viual they want to create.. it's not neccessary or logical.

This is another statement that people misunderstood. Jungkook had accepted that he would love the idea to do a show when Jimin first mentioned but Jimin knew that Jungkook probably didn’t mind if it happened or didn’t happen so he knew it was up to him to convince the company to make it happen and that’s why he went ahead to push for it.

Why on earth would the company have to be convinced? It's a great deal for them. They only had to invest a bit and they got a great deal with Disney and content to get to army during a time of BTS draught. They also slapped it in as partly promo for Jm's album. What happened imo, is that Jm and JK did talk about this a while ago.. for fun. It went nowhere because it wasn't needed nor did they have time for it. Then Jm was done with his album. The company pushed/asked him for content idea's.. this idea popped up in his head (and I'm not saying it's a bad idea at all). The company was elated and shifted gears to make it work. Which ended up in it having been scheduled around Jk's projects. It's no coincidence that bothe NY and Sapporo became locations. The first was done hapazardly because they found a couple of days time between Jk's promo activities. Sapporo came to be because JK had to do stuff in Tokyio. Jeju was probably the only location that wasn't tied to Jk's work.

The thing is.. I don't think Jk was tied to a contract to do this. But.. I think all members have been somewhat gaslighted into complying. All they have been told their entire careers, is that they owe their fans everything. You can tell that they were afraid to loose army. There never was a good time for them to enlist, and I think having to enlist in one go must've felt terrifying to them. Who knows what the future brings, and I think if they let their deepest fears talk.. it would've been that after enlistment Army would've moved on. And I think it's those fears that made them create so much content.. and push beyond what was good for them at times. I think that's something we should be able to acknowledge without being called haters. I don't hate that they did the show... but I also know that what Jk chooses to do when he has actual free time is not this.

Did anyone stop to consider that this show might have actually been good for Jk because he could take a break from work to just do a bunch of activities he liked or eat what he likes and not physically exerting himself with actual work?

No matter how used they are to it, being on camera will always be work. They have to think about what they say, they have to hold back or be fun, they cannot truly relax. Especcially in NY (but in Sapporro too) Jk was sick and tired. He could've used rest. I am even astounded at how little people are talking about Jm having to work while being actually sick and hurting. I've just had the stomachflu (still feeling meh, but slightly better) and let me tell you... I would not have been able to go hiking. They push through it, because they have been conditioned to do so... but that doesn't make it okay or fair.

I don’t expect you to accept it but there is alot of projection going on right now and when you really dig deep, you realize that this is all because he did that show with Jimin.

No, I agree. There is a lot of projecting going on.. from all sides.. even yours. We talk about Jm and Jk, because this is the show we got. Had I seen Jk in the state he was with another member.. I would've said the same (but I won't be taken seriously because I'm a Tkkr). I think for instance, that Tae in BV was horrible. He was too sad to be there and shouldn't have been. Yes, members are brothers and they take care of each other. But I think when something is too much and we can visibly see it.. we can also acknowledge that at times it isn't what's best for them.

My mixed feeligns come from knowing they are grown men and can handle themselves, but at the same time.. their mental state as artists (especcially as idols, knowing what they had to go through to get to the top) makes them push boundaries. I admire them for it, but I also wish an easier life for them. They might get paid millions, but the mental toll is a heavy price. I think members themselves also realize this.

#travel show discourse #members #fandom shenanigans

14 notes · View notes

tubborucho · 1 year ago

Note

Yeah, I am pretty sure he thought of it as a light-hearted way to explain Sunny why Tallulah is moody. Doesn’t change the fact that it was a fucked up thing to say and genuinely hurtful for a literal toddler.

This and your point about people not being able to let go of the whole Dadza thing are two of my biggest problems with q!Phil. I know it's not cc!Phil's fault how people treat him but the way people overhype his parenting does make it more irritating as a viewer. It's not just fans, though, most characters seem to share this view of him as an amazing Dad. The fact that he stepped up for Tallulah when Wilbur left is great and the effort he puts in is great, but his parenting skills are just okay.

It feels like every time he talks to or about Sunny he ends up doing something bad that's brushed off because "that's just how Phil talks" or "he's just protecting his kids".

His reaction to Sunny's train was awful. I know he has a banter-y relationship with Tubbo but he was criticizing her father and her own choices right in front of her. It felt like he didn't even absorb any of what Tubbo was telling him. Like, why did he keep complaining about it feeling sterile when it was a brand new build and Sunny chose the white blocks themself?

The morality test about stealing the panda was completely unacceptable. Genuinely horrible thing to do to a child especially when he told her point blank at the end that it was a test that she managed to pass. Why would she trust someone who might be secretly testing her?

The talk in the museum was bad for both Sunny and Tallulah. Tallulah isn't "in a mood," she has genuine concerns but has still been making an effort with Sunny even while trying to maintain some distance. For Sunny he was playing up a very real insecurity to make a point. It's not really fair to Tubbo either, his game was having issues and he left his daughter with two of the people he trusts the most. I went to watch from the vod for slightly more context and chat reactions and Phil did not waste any time at all. The moment Tubbo was gone he rolled straight into it with Sunny.

There was also a point a few days ago where Tallulah showed some discomfort over Empanada and Phil responded with this:

Empanada’s nice, you like Empanada. You like Em. It’s Sunny you’re not a fan of. Sunny’s just all in your face with money and sunglasses and shit. But, like, Sunny’s fine too. Sunny’s just a bit much though. Sunny takes a while to get used to.

Sunny was not around for this but it's still a terrible way to talk about a child. They weren't even the egg Tallulah was concerned about at the time. And I do believe that q!Phil wasn't trying to be mean here but he still was. He is consistently unkind to Sunny even when he's trying to make a good point or a joking.

Wait, is the last thing a genuine quote? Because I haven’t heard this one before.

And yeah. Listen, Phil is a good parent. He takes care of Chayanne and Tallulah very well. He is a good parent, but it doesn’t mean that he is good that way for every other child ever. I think people forget that Dad figures in stories don’t mean that they are perfect in every adult-child relationship ever.

He is a great dad for Chay and Lullah. He is genuinely very condescending towards Sunny. It’s like every time they interact he just refuses to even try to see past his initial impression of them. Phil wrote her down for no reason as a shallow and tolerable at best kid in his books, and acts on that judgement in a way that he doesn’t care about her in any way past their basic safety and sometimes teaching them stuff if they need it immediately.

The only reason he pays Sunny any mind at all is that he cares for Tubbo. Also not in a parental way that people (and Tubbo lmao) seem to try and picture it as, but he cares. Sunny is just a tag along.

And don’t get me wrong, I am not saying that he should love her like his own or even really like her. It’s fine. I am saying that he still should treat her with the same grace as other kids that are not his – she is a child, you are speaking of and with a child, being mean about and to them is not okay. Especially because this child did literally nothing wrong.

#liss writes posts #liss answers asks #qsmp sunny #qsmp phil neg

45 notes · View notes

privatelivebait · 4 months ago

Text

ACME Autumn day 2, things were a little quieter today so I was able to grab some sillier pictures and a lot more cosplayers. Was wonderful seeing everyone's outfits, art and skits. It's something I look forwards to every year and this weekend didnt disappoint! A lot of different fandoms all having a fun time together (and some VERY confused people from the medical conference happening next door). If you recognise any cosplayers from these photos please do tag them! Lots more photos under the cut and a little special mention at the end.

And now for a little aside, in the far-off time of 2022, I attended ACME Autumn with the Regimental Standard's first public outing. We set it up in a corner and let people take photos of us/it in the background. We often make little bits and pieces to hand out to youths and 40k fans, just as a little silly back and forth to help perhaps make the former not quite so scared of the scary masked men and as a fun little keepsake on top of the costuming talk and banter. That year we made some conscription notices from the Uplifting Primer and told those we gave them to that they were to collect a uniform and report to their nearest commissar upon completion. Little did I suspect that anyone would actually do it.

I am frankly overjoyed to show off a sucessful conscript to the Death Korps of Krieg! He told me how much I had inspired him (I'm still reeling from this) on our first meeting and conversation and how much he enjoyed seeing me in the Warhammer Fest lineup the year after, during which he was halfway done with his costume. He had remembered my advice about the coat and had bought the exact kind I mentioned as being very close to the model, he had made his own mask, helmet, pack, bedroll and grenades. He had even bought an actual surplus entrenching tool (though sadly this was refused entry at the door, sometimes security gets very strict with props). He then floored me mentally by asking me for an autograph. Me. Like I was somebody famous or important. I, surely shocking no-one in the audience, have a very poor opinion of myself. I do not consider myself to be worth much. But clearly my actions had counted. Of course I grabbed a pen and signed the requested item (a frag grenade, how very fitting) and tried very hard to come to terms with the reality of what just happened without seeming like a babbling fool. I have yet to fully internalise it. If somehow you see this, little Krieger, thank you for being you. I am certainly VERY proud of your fantastic work and you should be too. I greatly look forwards to seeing how you progress from meeting to meeting and wish you every success in your endeavours. I see you, your actions count and always will. If someone, somehow knows this lad I would implore you to get the above message to him if possible, because I dont know if I communicated how touched I was in the moment and I would like him to know.

#acme glasgow #ACME autumn 2024 #40k cosplay #cosplay #death korps of krieg #Sorry for the sappiness #but it remains wild to me that it happened #I'm not sure I'll ever forget it

10 notes · View notes

stardustandash · 17 days ago

Text

Well, I'm finally playing BG3 and I have thoughts. Keeping them below the cut since I don't want to invite Discourse lol

Its.... not great. Everyone told me it would be just up my alley and I'd love it and it's just so... meh. It's not awful, but it's not interesting. I'm 20 hours in (or thereabouts) and it just hasn't gripped me at all. My metric for loving a game is wanting to read, or writing fic for it. Nothing about this game compels me to do either.

People raved about the character creator and I don't know why. You get like 6 preset faces you can't change. You have 2 options of a male or female body type. Sure, they have lots of skin, eye, and hair colours, but that doesn't make up for the fact that all the Tav's just end up being cookie cutters. If I get to make my own character in a game, I should be able to MAKE the character. Sure, a lot of RPGs only let you do the face, but at least they let you actually make the face!

The DnD system doesn't vibe for me in a videogame. Let me be clear, I play DnD. In fact, I am a dungeon master for most games I'm involved in beyond oneshots. I like DnD. It's fun! I love it! So every time I'm playing BG3 all I'm thinking about is how much I'd rather be playing actual DnD. I'm also not a fan of turn based games, and when there's 5+ enemies on the battlemap it feels like every battle is a boring slog.

As well, I know why Tav is voiceless in cutscenes, but with the amount of voicelines the other characters seem to have, I can't help but feel it brings the game down. Especially when paired with the fact that Tav is expressionless. You'd think with a preset face it would actually move, but no. I laugh out loud during scenes where the camera cuts to Tav for a reaction shot and they're just stone faced. Its hard to actually feel like I'm roleplaying when the character doesn't feel alive.

Where the game does shine is the party outside of Tav. At least they all have strong personalities, if very archetypal. DnD is a game built on archetypes, so I let that pass. They comment on every little thing, they're good at dragging out the mysteries of their backstories, and they're the only things keeping me playing the game because the main plot isn't very interesting.

... that being said I was expecting more conflict between the party members, especially after seeing lots of people saying that Veilguard's companion conflicts were so miniscule in comparison and I... didn't feel like there was any more hostility than that betwen Lucanis and Davrin. Sure, Shadowheart had a knife to Lae'zel's throat, but like one dialogue from Tav and they made up. I'm not against having a party that meshes together even while holding different ideals, but it was sold to me as a "be careful who you have in your party! They might argue and fight about stuff" kind of game. Maybe there was more before all the patches? I wouldn't know.

I have more nitpicky negative thoughts (why tf is party banter subtitles in the year 2025 above the party member's head and not just across the bottom of the screen. I lead. I can't see it half the time so I keep missing it) but since they're more nitpicky I will refrain.

I will say the armours are pretty and the fact that we can dye them is super nice. I am obsessed with Scratch and the Owlbear, and also Withers. There's fun NPCs in the world and some hysterical dialogue choices. I just don't think this game lives up to the hype.

I'm really hoping that it improves once I'm out of act 1 and into act 2. Because otherwise this is probably gonna be a dnf from me.

#bg3 #bg3 critical

6 notes · View notes

temnurus · 1 year ago

Text

WWX POV Fic Recs

So! As a diehard Wei Ying fan, I thought it would be rather timely to come up with a rec list that showcased him in all his clever, chaotic, charming glory. This mostly some of my more recent reads, as I tried not to duplicate recs from my top ten list and the 10 extra honorable mentions because I couldn't stop myself.

Ahem. Anyway, this is a good mix of stuff. We've got everything from accidental baby acquisition, to case fic, to monsterfucking! (You're welcome, fellow deviants. 😉) Happy WWX day, folks! Now onto the recs!

hold up a mirror by spookykingdomstarlight (E, 36,170)

Thoughts: Another brilliant friends to lovers fic by one of my favorite authors. They wow me every single time, no exaggeration. In this one Wei Ying is lonely. He’s also tired of being set up on blind dates by his concerned brother when he stumbles upon the fact that Lan Zhan is pining for some idiot who has somehow failed to see how great he is. Obviously them pretending to date will solve both of these problems. Jiang Cheng will get off his back, & they’ll be able to make Lan Zhan’s crush jealous enough to realize what he’s missing. Cue me banging my head against my desk while muttering about their joint stupidity, & we have the recipe for yet another fic making it to my favorites list.

(we've got) time for one more by impossibletruths (E, 71,504)

Thoughts: I felt Wei Ying’s longing in my bones in this fic. For the music, for Lan Zhan, for all the things that could’ve been. He was such a good dad to A’Yuan, & their relationship was so touching. I cried several times in this fic, one of which was inspired by Wei Ying & the Jiang siblings trio. The feelings surrounding them & the planning of Yanli’s wedding were so bittersweet with canon lurking in the background. I really loved getting to see it come together differently here, though. Seeing Lan Zhan through Wei Ying’s eyes was also a huge treat here, & I loved their dynamic, angst & all. This was a great fic, highly recommended!

Stumbling Into You by Magnolia822 (E, 39,332)

Thoughts: I really enjoyed this one. Wei Ying & Lan Zhan’s relationship felt very soft here, & sometimes I love that. It really worked with the whole tone of the fic. I liked Lan Zhan’s characterization in particular, which was neat since the story is told from Wei Ying’s perspective. There was a touch of angst, mostly towards the end, but the fic definitely earned its happy ending tag. I recommend it if you enjoy college AUs & our boys being soft idiots in love.

Tripped at Every Step by brooklinegirl (E, 28,758)

Thoughts: This fic was such a fun read. Wei Ying’s confusion was just delightful, & seeing Lan Zhan shower him with love in every way he knew how was breath-takingly sweet. There was a lot of fun teasing & banter, as well as an incident with a hickey that had me laughing until I cried. Nothing hurt in this, & I appreciated that so much because sometimes you just need a little softness. This did that just right. I highly recommend it.

The Golden Cutsleeve by syrus_jones (E, 77,020)

Thoughts: This is one of the most glorious things I’ve ever read in my life. I am not exaggerating when I say that. I cannot tell you how many times I laughed so hard I cried. This fic was hilarious, sexy, & full of Wei Ying being his chaotic best self. I nearly lost my mind at how hot some of the smut was, & it definitely earned the Crack Taken Seriously & Porn with Feelings tags. I’m not normally a crack fic person, so my ringing endorsement of this fic should not be taken lightly. 10/10, will absolutely read it again. As should you!

so take my hand (take my whole life too) by cicer (E, 92,343)

Thoughts: This is the second accidental baby acquisition fic I read for Wangxian, & A-Yuan is much younger here, not even a year old. There are lots of cute baby moments, including Wei Ying & Lan Zhan figuring out how to be parents together on the fly. Wei Ying had a huge crush on Lan Zhan and was, of course, convinced that Lan Zhan didn’t like him back. He is very, very stupid, but that’s okay because he’s obviously always very wrong about that. I laughed a lot at this fic, but it was also very touching. Not a whole lot of angst here besides the unfortunate reason for A-Yuan being left with them, but those subjects aren’t graphically described or deeply gone into.

In Love and War by Cataclysmic_Calamity (E, 68,321)

Thoughts: This is A/B/O dynamics done right & is easily the best of the trope that I’ve read for this ship. Mind the tags, of course, but I do recommend this if Omegaverse is your thing. Wei Ying’s plan to make himself insufferable didn’t go quite as well as he’d hoped, & before he knew it he was suffering the indignity of falling in love with his own husband. The nerve! Haha. There’s a good amount of angst, & the depth of feeling was gripping. I also enjoyed the side pairing of SangCheng. This author wrote a Hualian fic that’s one of my favorite fanfics period, so that certainly lends itself to the quality of the writing.

Full Moon Blues by Unforth (E, 39,034)

Thoughts: Alright monsterfuckers, this one’s for you. It’s exactly what you’d expect. Wei Ying’s phobia of dogs plays a large role. The depiction of panic attacks is very visceral in this fic, so be warned if that’s an issue for you. The angst is all emotional in nature & does pass eventually, leading to the star of this fic, the fucking. Oh my goodness, the fucking. The smut is so hot it nearly melted my face off! If you like werewolf sex, you’re in for a treat here. But don't let that fool you, their emotional connection is just as satisfying as the smut! I recommend anything by Unforth, to be honest. I’ve loved everything I’ve read by them.

for sale: eboy bathwater, never used by lewdwife (E, 25,123)

Thoughts: This was absolutely hilarious, boarderline Crack Treated Seriously almost. The Sugar Daddy thing is a sort of almost/but not really kind of thing, but I honored the author’s tag anyway. I could feel the convention energy as Wei Ying & the gang geared up for it, & it was a whole lot of fun. The smut was absolutely filthy & very, very good. I definitely recommend this one. It was adorable.

a stone to break your soul, a song to save it by rikke (M, 179,769)

Thoughts: Despite this being rated Mature it actually does contain smut! It’s maybe tame smut compared to most Explicit rated fics, but I’ve always found there to be a very fine line between the two ratings that no one can really agree on. I digress, though. This fic is plot-heavy & plot-driven. It’s an interesting case fic that also features an arranged marriage between Wei Ying & Lan Zhan in order to redeem Wei Ying in the eyes of the cultivation world after the events at Qiongqui Path. The Wens end up being sheltered by the Lans at Cloud Recesses instead of the Burial Mounds as a result. I enjoyed the twists & turns of this, & watching them slowly get closer was as rewarding as always. There was some interesting cultivation theory featured as well.

#mdzs #the untamed #wangxian #lan zhan #wei ying #lan wangji #wei wuxian #wangxian fic rec #Temnurus rec list #to my main man wwx #happy birthday baby #he's so dumb y'all #i love him so much #bless his heart

33 notes · View notes

hanzajesthanza · 7 months ago

Note

So I watch videos about games to vet them before buying them cause I don't want to spend time and money on something I dislike or disagree with and came to the conclusion that I would like the Witcher 3. However when I tried playing it initially I was stuck on who Geralt was and not who other people said he was so I set the game aside and read all the books expect season of storms (I knew it came out after the game) because I figured it would help me play the game. I love reading so this wasn't a problem and I love the books and am now making my way through the game.

What I have to say is that I do not understand how someone could get the maximum amount of Witcher experience from the game alone. Geralt learns and changes in the books and you need to know him and his companions to make that games make sense.

What are your thoughts on this cause I have a friend who loves the games but hasn't read the books and yes I have told her to read them for her own benefit.

what i've found is that it really depends on the individual, what they define "the witcher experience." for some people, that's only going to be the games, for others, it will be the books first, then games, and for others still it will be just the books, and so on. i've been all three of the above, and there's even more, for instance, people who want to consume every single media that gets produced with the "witcher" name, because... witcher!

the games trilogy stands by itself as its own cycle of storytelling, apart from the books, so i can understand how some fans feel that the books aren't needed to have a "full" experience. i think even xletalis expressed this in one of his videos (i used to watch them way back when), where he said that he felt "satisfied" or "complete" after playing the games, so he didn't feel any need to read the books.

it's also up to the individual on whether or not the books will help or hinder their game experience. some context is helpful, but if you focus too much on the books while playing the games, it begins to detract from the games experience (at least, it did for me).

i really couldn't go back to witcher 3 the same way i did after i read the books, because the thing i enjoyed the most in witcher 3, and which also took up a lot of the time—riding around the map on roach—had become depressing and dull. whereas when i first played the game, it was like freedom for geralt to ride with swords on his back, doing witcher things, when i came back to it after reading, all i could think about was how alone geralt was, riding alone, with no one to talk to, no one to fill the silence. i kept thinking about the hanza's shallow graves... i missed dandelion with his banter and his lute... and i felt the weight of the swords, the desperation and frustration of losing ciri...

and this made me realize that between different medias, there are different priorities for the audience.

in the books, it's the dialogue, the characters, in short: the writing, which is the focus. and this writing is not always "fun" to engage with. yes, it's enjoyable to read, but is often about really heavy topics or feelings, bringing to light some unsavory truths, bringing you to strong emotions. and it's a dialogue with the author, whose tendencies and ideas about the canon i'm trying to figure out as i go. and the witcher largely focuses on the suffering of its characters, and though they retain their hope, their lives are not exactly power fantasies or figures i'd like to live vicariously through.

for instance, geralt as a witcher in witcher 3 feels powerful and cool, but in the books, though he has badass moments, in the storytelling it's exactly the opposite. his "witcher's work" is quite literally just his day job, one he doesn't really enjoy but has to do because otherwise he'll starve, and which often brings him to dark places and fills him with regrets and doubts.

witchering in the books is not presented as something fun and game-like, and this difference in approach makes it difficult to transition back into playing a game for enjoyment. the books, though they depict violence, are really anti-violence and usually (usually, although it's very satisfying sometimes) depict killing as a brutal necessity and not something to aspire to. ciri's story as she struggles with revenge is really best encompassing this, but it's also present in geralt's storyline.

another example is that of regis, as when i first played blood and wine i thought he and dettlaff storming dun tynne was totally badass, but after i read the books, it felt... bad. i saw him as having an incredibly complex relationship with violence and bloodshed, and self-defining as a coward... (blood and wine, though it acknowledged his sobriety, had him break it again and didn't really take the time to explore the effects of this). it didn't feel like it aligned with his character motivations and conflicts from the books.

that was how it was for me playing from a books perspective. but from a games perspective, it's different.

though there are many ways people interact with video games, and i'm not knocking witcher 3's storytelling or saying that you can't engage with video games as stories, i'm only speaking from how i personally engage with video games: i like to maximize the "fun" out of them, the interactive play element.

unlike in a book, i'm often not looking for long and drawn-out philosophical discussions, but witty exchanges or great one-liners. i want cool fights and interesting questlines that lead me somewhere as a player. storytelling is more cause-and-effect than contemplative narrative. and witcher 3 does everything about a video game really well, it's very fun to play.

when i first played witcher 3, riding on horseback with a silver sword as bright as a lightning bolt is all i ever wanted. then after i read the books, i came from this area where the witcher-ing reality was purposefully questioned. it wasn't just like "yooo, endrega nest! blow this shit up!" it was like, "i wonder what the ecological effect of destroying this nest is... oh god... did those rotfiends back there have families..." because... well, the books just make you think like that.

so, i wouldn't say that you necessarily need the books or the games to enjoy either, because for me, they're quite separate: separate attitudes, separate approaches. the books will help you understand what's going on in the games, but can also distract from what the games do well. the games are good because they're good at being games, the books are good because they're good at being books. so it's fine to want to just have one-or-the-other; just don't expect them to translate over.

however, from a cohesive "storytelling perspective," i.e., continuity's sake, i do think it makes sense to read the books to understand character relationships, as you mentioned.

for instance, i did not really understand geralt and dandelion's friendship until i read the short stories and got a better look at why they are friends (though it's also my fault for only playing the third game, they're much better in the first two i know).

i also didn't get geralt and yennefer as a couple until i read the books twice (it's more of a longer story there. but basically, i couldn't read rivia and be like 'nah they shouldn't be together'... like she died on top of his dead body. they're kind of together forever whether anyone likes it or not lol). this was also due to a lot of yennefer slander i read from more game-based fans who didn't read any of the books, but swore that she was cruel and abusive to geralt, and i made the mistake of trusting their word for it since "they know more than i do!"

at the same time, it might be more confusing for an audience, because some characters in the game get reduced to their un-developed character state from the books, so they can then arc within the game.for instance, yennefer in witcher 3 is less like the lady of the lake yennefer, and more like the sword of destiny yennefer.

additionally, some characters are just straight up changed in personality, for instance, triss who has become more brave and assertive in the games, a "pseudo-yennefer." though you can chalk this up to character development occurring in the space of time since the books ended, i think it is confusing to try and pawn it off as the same character with continuity, since we don't see any of that development happening it feels like an abrupt change.

even with characters that cdpr got really "right," i prefer to see them as entirely separate characters and canons (this is about regis. lol) because it's disturbing to see some of the changes and try to take that as a "canon continuation".

this was all kind of a ramble, so i hope i answered your question!

tl;dr my answer would be that it really depends on the player/reader and what they want to get out of the experience; if they feel satisfied with having the knowledge they have or if they want more depth and explanations, if they care to deal with the complexity of marrying two canons with each other, or don't want to get too deep into the multimedia universe.

in my own space, i like to think about the books as a complete cycle, and then engage with games/other mediums with an "i'll entertain it, if it's entertaining" attitude—so i really can't judge if someone wants to only look into the games, that's just the mirror-reverse of what i do.

however, i think it's worth it to look into the other medias, even if it doesn't end up being something you're primarily interested in. like, just read the first book, or play a little of the third game (i choose these because they're the easiest to get into). try to talk to fans who like those medias most, see what they like about it.

i think this can not only help you think about what you enjoy about your own "witcher experience," but also start to understand why other fans like this other media so much, which can then help you have, or understand, more conversations.

#ask #vantassurman

12 notes · View notes