#have a lot of thoughts about the intimacy of haircuts

[aliceintheworld]

PURE ATTRACTION | JJK | TATTOO ARTIST

Pairing: TattooArtistJungkook X NaiveReader

Summary: " I shouldn’t be watching a man undressing, especially not from the house next door."

Warning: Fluff, kiss, impure thoughts, conversation about sex, masturbation, doubts and more doubts.

A/N: Here I am. As a thank you for all the wonderful comments, I will post two chapters today. (To be honest, I already have some stories in mind, but I want to finish Pure Attraction first, so I need to do it a little bit faster.) Keep interacting and voting. Don't forget: VOTE! It brings engagement and more motivation for the author!

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Chapter 8

I wave to my mother inside the car, as she reverses in front of our house and leaves, driving down the street of our neighborhood. Eunji works at a medium-sized company and travels a lot for a few months of the year, when she needs to present a new project. It's not new to me. I am used to being alone for some days; what makes me think, however, is Jungkook. I look at my neighbors' house out of inertia, seeing him at the living room window, reading some book. He notices me, opens a mischievous little smile, and waves, winking. My cheeks burn with his attention, and before I can embarrassed myself, in any way, I close the door and quickly step inside.

I still can't believe what happened last night. It feels like an unreal dream. If I didn't have marks and hickeys on my neck and breasts, I would have accepted that it was all a figment of my imagination and that Jungkook and I didn't end up together. I feel scared because I don't regret it and want it to happen again. I don't know where I'm getting myself into, and each time we meet, I sink deeper and deeper into this situation. I feel apprehensive because what I feel for him, I've never felt for anyone else. His kiss when he said goodbye, his dark and big eyes on mine... Just remembering it makes me shiver.

I start to organize myself because I need to take a look at the thrift store. It's been a while since I last went there, and I don't know how is doing. My day goes by quickly, and I return a bit earlier than expected because the movement wasn't very good. I attended to three customers, and only two of them bought something. I climb the stairs at home, tired and hungry, my stomach growling because I didn't even have lunch. I throw myself on the bed and close my eyes, not caring about the heavy clothes I'm wearing. I could sleep even in a costume, that nothing would disturb my sleep. I take off my sneakers with my feet and sigh, relieved to be home.

A few minutes pass when I feel fingers on my thigh, lifting my denim skirt towards my intimacy. I jump up, startled, when I see Jungkook on his knees on my mattress, his face close to mine. He laughs, noticing my surprise, doesn't say a word, and simply kisses me, brushing his lips against mine. I savor his taste in my mouth, silently asking him to deepen the caress and use his tongue with mine; however he pulls away, gives me a peck and another, before standing up completely.

"I could call the police." I joke, brushing the short hair from his face. The haircut is not much different from the previous one, but it makes him look more handsome, if that's even possible.

"I do everything with consent." He mocks, lying down beside me.

"I didn't give you any consent to come into my room. How did you get in?"

"The open window was very inviting. I couldn't resist." He shrugs, smiling.

"Why did you come here?" I raise my head, focused on his rosy lip when he pouts.

"I came to get you." Jungkook says, stretching on the bed. He lifts my right leg, caressing my skin. "And that's not a request."

"I don't even know where you want to take me." I comment, swallowing hard. I laugh a little, feeling the tickles from the tips of his fingers. "And I'm tired. I worked at my mother's store and at the library. And today is Tuesday. I'm dead."

"Your mother went traveling, didn't she? Enjoy it while she's not home."

"How do you know she traveled?" I raise an eyebrow, curious.

"She told my mom some time ago." He shrugs, as if it's simple.

"She only told me last night." I growl, irritated. My mother always does this, telling me her plans always at the last minute.

"I thought you knew. That's why I came here. When the king is in the castle, one cannot court the Princess. Everyone knows that."

"In this case, I would be the Princess?" I laugh, finding it funny.

"Yes. You are definitely Rapunzel. Have you noticed that your life is literally living in a tower?"

"I'm touched."

"It's serious. Come with me." Jungkook asks, whispering, squeezing my thigh. I smile knowing that, the way he asks, I'll never be able to say no. I sigh and roll my eyes.

"You convinced me. Tell me where we're going."

"It's not a very surprising place." He speaks carelessly; suddenly, his cheeks turn red, and he pinches the lobe of his ear, embarrassed. That makes me even more curious. I wonder what he plans, and even though I'm tired, I nod and get up from the bed.

"Alright, you made me curious. But I'm hungry and need to eat something before we go." I say, wrapping my arms around his neck. I kiss his lips in a quick peck, tasting him. A voice in my head tells me I shouldn't act so affectionately because I'm not his girlfriend –or anything like that –but the way Jungkook responds quiets that voice and reassures me it's ok to touch him like this.

"I'll order something for you to eat." He smiles simply. Before I can argue, he crouches down, takes my foot, and pulls off my sneaker. I watch everything, worried and fascinated, relaxing my leg so he can finish the task.

I really like Jungkook. I've admitted that, and it's not very hard to notice. I did things with him because he makes me feel confident in my own skin, and that does me good. He is funny, talented, kind and sarcastic, and even though I don't know him well, the things I know about him make me admire him. The problem is he might still love his ex, and I don't know how far I can unleash my own feelings. I'm afraid of having too many expectations and ending up frustrated and disappointed. He treats me very well, but does that mean he reciprocates what I feel, or does it just mean he is a gentleman who knows how to take care of a woman?

"Done." He says, finishing the knot of my shoelace.

I smile at him gratefully and feel his hand holding mine as we walk down the stairs. I lose a bit of my smile, seeing our fingers intertwined, but I say nothing. I promise myself that I will enjoy the moment and keep my paranoia to myself, for now.

"Are you really not going to tell me where we're going?" I ask when we reach the sidewalk. He shakes his head and laughs before stepping away.

"No. You'll have to wait a little." He replies, opening the gate to his parents' garage. I stand still, waiting for his car when I'm surprised to see Jungkook on a motorcycle, with another helmet on his right arm. I open my mouth, totally impressed, looking from end to end at how huge the thing is. Now I understand why Mr. Jeon was worried, when he mentioned his son's mean of transportation, last night at dinner.

"Shall we?"

"I've never been on a motorcycle." I comment weakly, afraid of falling before I even get on the back.

"Everything has a first time." Jungkook bites his lower lip, watching me mischievously. My face heats up when I remember he said the same thing to me, when I sucked his dick in my room.

"Jungkook, how long have you been riding this thing? Did you pass your practical test on the first try?" I ask, sarcastically. He laughs, rolling his eyes.

"I promise you will come out alive from this." He guarantees with cynicism. He stands up, turns around, and goes behind me. "I'll tie your hair up, wait a bit."

I wait patiently while he holds my rebellious strands and ties them with some elastic. Jungkook takes the helmet from his arm and looks back at my face. He seems super focused and serious, furrowing his brows and making sure my head is indeed protected. He gives a little smile and sits on the motorcycle, waiting for my turn. I am a bit awkward, not quite sure where to support myself, but Jungkook doesn't mind and holds my leg so I can settle in securely. I wrap my arms around his waist, and with my heart racing, I wave between his shoulder and neck.

"We can go." I confirm, uncertain. Almost at the same moment, Jungkook revs the engine and takes off down the street at speed. I hold on tighter to him, tense. I hear his laugh and know he did this on purpose to tease me. I hit his arm, pouting, and sigh, feeling the nice end-of-day breeze.

It's scary, fascinating and a fantastic moment. With the motorcycle rolling, I can follow the sunset, which transforms the blue sky into orange and the usually polluted air, into something purer and cleaner. It's a feeling of freedom, enjoyable and terrifying, the same I have every time I'm with Jungkook. I hold on tighter, happy for the new experience I'm living.

It doesn't take long before the motorcycle stops in the city center. Things are quite busy, with people walking from one place to another and the stores bustling with customers. I can't remember the last time I came here, even though it's so close to my house. I get off awkwardly, and Jungkook follows right behind, taking off his helmet.

"It's here." He smiles happily, pointing behind me. When I turn around, there's a large sign saying "GOLDEN TATTOO" with Jungkook's name, on a seemingly new and well-lit wall. "I managed to finish the renovation today, and I wanted to bring you here to see the place. You'll be the first person to come."

"It's perfect!" I sight, impressed. I'm left speechless as he opens the bulletproof glass and enters the place, as if he were familiar with the environment. It's different from what I expected, with gray-painted walls, plants everywhere, and illustrated designs in large frames. It's a place I would feel comfortable in, even if I came alone. "Did you decorate it?"

"Yes. These last few days, I worked with a design team to organize everything the way I envisioned it. It took a lot of work, but I think it's finally all ready."

"It's very beautiful." I smile, touching one of the frames on the wall. It's a tattoo of an eye, apparently feminine and brown. It's so realistic that it feels like it's looking in my direction. I analyze the drawing so much that Jungkook laughs, lowering his head.

"Did you like it?" He points to the frame, smiling. I nod, touching the picture.

"It's spectacular."

"I drew it." He explains, coming up behind me. My heart skips a few beats when his arms wrap around my waist, and he presses his mouth against my ear. My spine freezes, and I get all goosebumps, from the last strand of my hair to the tips of my toes. "Come here, I want to show you something."

He pulls my hand and guides me to a room with white walls, some utensils and machines that, even as a layperson, I know are for tattooing. It's a very clean and sterilized place, with masks, disposable gloves, and colored inks in a glass and wood cabinet. The almost obsessive organization doesn't surprise me. When I saw Jungkook's apartment some time ago, I realized he likes everything very well organized, and his workplace wouldn't be any different. He sits me on the waiting sofa, and I observe some drawings in a black folder on the coffee table.

I don't know many people with tattoos, and I've never taken the time to appreciate this type of art, but I like what Jungkook does. He creates realistic designs, but most of them have fine and delicate touches. It's interesting to get to know another one of his sides that makes me more enchanted by him every day. I glance at my phone, thinking of my mother suddenly. I shake my head, determined to expel my restlessness. All these worries don't matter right now. She's out of town, and I need to stop tormenting myself about her. Jungkook appears at the door, almost as if he knew I was lost in thought, and smiles at me, mysteriously.

"What do you want to show me? I'm almost going crazy with curiosity." I confess, excited. He smiles, holding a roll of plastic wrap in one hand and raising a tablet in the other.

"I'm going to end your curiosity now." He says. "It's nothing special. I'm just going to do a tattoo on myself."

"What? Another one? Didn't you do one the day before yesterday?" I exclaim, opening my mouth in disbelief. He laughs at my surprise, as if he had said the most ordinary thing in the world.

"I've done tattoos on myself a few times; it's not a big deal. And I have to take advantage because the healing time is always restrict with food."

"Don't you feel pain while doing it?"

"I do." He confirms, shrugging. "But it's not unbearable, and I can stay still the whole time."

"Are you some kind of masochist?" I tease, watching him. Jungkook wraps the plastic around the tattoo machine and on the bench beside me without pausing.

"It's a nice pain." He smiles slyly, licking his lower lip. "It's almost like when I spank your butt. Don't you feel pleasure when there's a bit of it?"

"Jungkook!" I reprimand, my face burning with embarrassment at the question. He really has no scruples. And neither do I, because I hate to admit it, but I actually enjoy it when he spanks me.

"Some types of pain are bearable and nice to feel. You should try it." He suggests, sitting beside me.

"No, thanks." I decline. Just the thought of a needle piercing me, makes me anxious.

"Scaredy-cat." He mocks. He raises the tablet and shows me the drawing. It's a pink, reddish flower. It's a beautiful and interesting drawing, but apparently painful if done by oneself. I grimace, pitying him.

"What does it mean?" His face turns red suddenly. He looks at his hands and bites his lips, thoughtful.

"It's the flower of my birth. The tiger flower." He diverts his gaze from mine, leaving me confused.

"What is it?" I ask, laughing. Generally, I'm the shy one in the relationship.

"It's nothing; it's just that... it means 'please, love me.' I think that phrase is so beautiful and, at the same time, so sad."

"Please, love me." I repeat, testing the words on my tongue. It really is sad but touching. I wonder, however, why he chose that tattoo. "Are you sure you can handle it?" I question, worried, somewhat skeptical. Jungkook turns completely to me and narrows his dark eyes, looking at me.

"Of course I can. Don't doubt my abilities."

"I'm not doubting." I explain, putting my hands in front of my body to defend myself. "It's just that it's a drawing with many details. It's normal for you not to be able to do something like that in a short time. It's already seven."

"Let's make a bet?" He suggests, brushing his hair from his face. I get excited about the proposal, nodding my head.

"Sure, why not? But what can we bet on?"

"If I can't finish the tattoo in two hours, you choose something for us to do together." The dark-haired boy explains, running his fingers on my thigh. A shiver runs up my spine as he trails his fingers on my skin, slowly lifting my skirt with ease.

"Do something together? Like what?" I frown, curious. He smiles, this time wickedly. His hand goes from my thighs to my neck, pulling my hair back. He entwines his fingers in my strands and caresses my scalp with his thumb. A breath of arousal escapes my mouth, beyond my control.

"Anything. You decide."

"And if you win the bet, you do whatever you want with me?" I tease, laughing at my own question. Jungkook doesn't deny it, however, looking at me with a serious expression that, if it weren't for the situation, would disturb me.

"I already know what I want." He says in a husky voice. "If I win the bet, you touch yourself in front of me, like I asked you to."

"J-Jungkook! I can't do that." I choke, shaking my head. I would die of embarrassment. I've tried a few times to touch myself, I confess, but I never succeeded. I always felt awkward, as if something was missing. As if I were a complete weirdo for even trying.

"Are you already thinking about losing? That's not how bets work."

"I've never bet on something like this." I laugh ironically, trembling. His hand releases my hair but doesn't stop touching me. He slides his palm further down and caresses my stomach, which bubbles because of him. I'm so entranced by his touch that I can't stop him and let Jungkook slip under my shirt, heading for my breasts, covered by my bra.

"Think of the other side. If I lose, you can do whatever you want with me." He argues quietly, giving a small smile.

I start imagining what I would do with him if I won the bet. I'm not very creative, but something that really excites me would be to bring him to the edge just like he did with me last night. He denied my orgasm, and I want to do the same with Jungkook, over and over again. Of course, I would have to be very confident, and I don't know if I could achieve my goal, but I think it's worth a try.

"Alright. I agree." I nod nervously. He approaches with a sideways smile and tucks my hair behind my ear, before closing his eyes and kissing my mouth.

I wrap my arms around his neck and deepen our kiss, massaging his mouth with mine. I bite his lower lip, only satisfied when I hear a rumble from him deep in his throat. He smirks between caresses, stops, and attacks my neck, licking my skin and leaving a thin trail of saliva. Weeks ago, I couldn't even imagine a man without clothes in front of me, and now all I want is to suck him off and feel him come in my mouth, just like last night. I still remember the result of his pleasure flowing down my throat, and my desire to repeat everything we did makes my brain intoxicated. I'm completely lost in wanting this man.

"A kiss to seal the deal." Jungkook grunts and pulls away, his mouth swollen. I try to continue the kiss with the excitement eating me from the inside out, but he smiles and stops touching me completely. "I have to start this tattoo if I want to win the bet."

Jungkook stands up and sketches the rose on a piece of paper. My head disconnects from reality while he begins the work. I pick up my phone for a few seconds and see the time passing. I would be more worried if my mother weren't out of town. I leave the sofa, needing to pee, and open a door marked for the bathroom. I take care of my business and look at myself in the mirror. My face looks apparently normal, if not for my flushed cheeks and red lips from the kisses. I splash a bit of water on myself, and when I feel calmer, I return to the tattoo studio. The machine works continuously, and Jungkook seems submerged and engrossed in his task, furrowing his brows, totally focused.

I shouldn't have accepted this bet. Jungkook has several tattoos, and it's obvious that his pain tolerance is high. I know he will win. The way he remains silent and effortlessly pierces his own skin tells me that sooner or later, I'll have to fulfill the difficult challenge. I bite my lip, watching the drawing of the flower being completed as the minutes pass. It's a very time-consuming process, but minutes fly. I am so relaxed and still that I could almost fall asleep listening to the buzzing of the needle.

"Y/N, I ordered food for both of us." I hear his voice suddenly. I jump a bit because I didn't notice he was talking to me, lost in my own head. "I hope you like pasta."

"I really like it, thanks." I say, shaking my head. I'm really hungry.

Before long, someone rings the studio's doorbell. Jungkook even tries to get up to answer the delivery person, but there's no way I'd let him go outside when he's so focused on his own work. I go outside and grab the food bag, seeing that he ordered beer, pasta, fries, and a can of Diet Coke for both of us. I'm happy to notice, in such a simple gesture, that he remembered I don't drink alcohol. My mouth instantly fills with saliva.

"I think you're not going to win the bet." I comment, sitting back on the sofa. I separate my food from his, tasting the delicious vegetable sauce that is the most tasty thing in the world. At least that's what my stomach thinks, given how hungry I am.

"I'm almost done." He brags, still tattooing himself. He passes a paper to remove the excess ink from his skin and raises an eyebrow confidently. "I can't wait to see you touching yourself."

"That's not going to happen." I guarantee with a certainty I don't have, blushing and taking a sip of the soda. It's refreshing, going cold down through my throat.

"Let's see if it won't. Do you really think I'm going to miss the chance to watch you masturbating?"

"Jungkook..." I mumble, covering my face. "Don't you have any shame? Stop saying those things."

"Don't worry, Y/N." He smiles, confident in his victory. "You still have a reasonable amount of time to get used to the idea."

"Focus, Kook." I change the subject; my heart races just imagining myself in that situation. He falls silent and bites his lower lip, looking at me from head to toe with such hunger that makes me nervous and excited. I swallow my food as he returns to tattooing, wondering if he will really finish the drawing in time.

And he does. Of course, he does. In the end, after one hour and forty-five minutes, Jungkook has a new complete drawing on his right arm, along with other tattoos that adorn his body. I finished my food just in time to see him ending everything with mastery and calm, as if he wasn't worried about our bet. His hungry eyes find mine, and I know exactly what he wants. I swallow hard, squeezing my thighs together.

"I think I deserve my prize since I won the bet."

"Y-yes." I respond, trembling. My heart beats loudly in my chest, and I have to breathe deeply to finally realize that I don't feel fear, not even a hint of hesitation. All I feel is lust and desire. A longing to have him closer, to touch him in his rawest form. I sigh, watching him stand up and walk calmly towards me, like a predator; a lion eyeing its prey. I shrink back on the couch, small, now that he is standing. His knee sneaks between my legs, and separates my thighs before he squats down, and brings his face closer to mine.

"I don't want you to touch yourself here." He whispers, like a secret. His dilated pupils when he gazes at my mouth. "In my apartment. In my bed. I want you there."

Ask for a TAGLIST in the comments.

@ane102 @joonwater @ttipa

[demenior]

marion/babenon/vandran was one of those headcanons where i heard it for the first time and immediately accepted it as truth, but i'd love to hear more of ur thoughts on it -- how do u picture vandran getting folded into marion and babenon? are there particular parts of their dynamic that u really like, or really see as a cornerstone? anything else u want to talk abt wrt them?

I started the concept of the Parent Trap Trio as a joke, mostly because I thought it would be funny for Fjord n Jester to have to deal with their parents getting married* or just the utter childish horror of having your parents brazenly flirting with each other.

And then suddenly it wasn't a joke. As a note, all of my thoughts for the trio are specific to the Fealty Series, which means it may or may not match canon.

To start you should read the light that you will see at evening by Capitola because they basically nailed how I imagine the first introduction between Babenon, Marion and Vandran going, as well as several little background details.

(this would be because Capi has been my co-conspirator for the Fealty series, and is also just a great writer)

* (I don't think any of them are the marrying type)

And then thoughts/details/concepts in no particular order:

Vandran and Babenon knew of each other while they were both in the Revelry. They were never on the same crew, and never close, but were aware of each other and their reputations

Considering Vandran's last love tried to kill him/he had to fake his death to escape her, he's a little hesitant to get involved in anything serious

Marion and Babenon are the only ones allowed to call Vandran by his first name (James) as a sign of intimacy. He will always refer to Marion as 'Miss Lavorre' as a sign of respect (until they're in private)

Babenon usually gets referred to as 'Mr. Dosal' for the same reason.

In the Fealty series we see a lot of similar behaviours between Vandran and Fjord (because they're father and son), where they feel their worth is tied to their masculinity which is tied to how much they can provide for/care for the person they care about (this is absolutely tied up to some toxic masculinity, but as the Fealty series explores, this is also how they both express their gender AND their affection and therefore very important for both Fjord and Vandran)

By this metric, Vandran has a lot of hang-ups about the wealth disparity between him and Marion (and Babenon, who is Marion's trophy boyfriend). He has a livable wage for an old bachelor, but certainly not for courting a Lady (or her trophy boyfriend) and he struggles with his pride about it

The three of them are all people that scrambled and fought hard to earn the life they have now- while they may not be upfront about the details of their past and where they came from- they can recognize that sharp edge in each other

Vandran does not actually live in the Chateau! Marion has offered for him to move in, or to rent a room to him, but he insists on maintaining his own apartment. It's a point of pride for him (see above re: masculinity).

Vandran does not wear a sword in A Lady's home (as this would be an insult to her in many ways- implying her home is not safe, or implying that he could be a threat at any time).

Marion and Babenon do not consider themselves 'high class' by any means, but they are accustomed to fitting in with high(er) society more than Vandran is

If Babenon needs to force Vandran into wearing something that he and/or Marion have purchased for Vandran, all he has to do is say something along the lines of 'you wouldn't want to embarass Marion, would you?' because Vandran can easily be trapped by social convention

They are all aware that if Vandran wanted out he could just stop coming to the Chateau

Babenon hires a personal barber to come to the Chateau for all of his personal styling (shaving, haircuts, etc). He insists that Vandran come along 'because I'm paying for it already', and since Fjord lives in the Chateau he joins in.

It wasn't meant to be, but Boy Time Spa Day became a Big Event in the household and the women leave them alone for it. Marion and Jester think it's SO cute. They got the boys matching robes.

Boy Time Spa Day is the most time Fjord and Vandran spend together outside of work, and the leading cause for them having any kind of good relationship

Vandran and Marion have a book club and enjoy talking books over a glass of scotch

As Vandran was once a) a notorious pirate and b) an established businessman on the coast, Babenon has engaged him to aid in helping Babenon make inroads towards connecting with different criminal factions.

Due to several previously mentioned factors, Vandran almost completely rejected being courted, and nearly left Nicodranas. It's only because Marion is so good at what she does that she was able to keep him from disappearing.

Marion and Vandran's only major point of contention is Vandran's relationship with Fjord. He insists he's not Fjord's father, while she insists that he is. It's the only thing Vandran will fight her on.

Vandran, like Fjord (used to be), will always say one thing (the polite, expected thing), and then may act completely different. This is how he let Marion and Babenon play flirty chicken on him, by telling them "no I'm not interested" and then continuing to return to visit.

Marion and Vandran both wear solid social masks- ie: they maintain a clear facade of what people expect of them, and reserve their true selves for their private moments, and may not even remove these masks in front of people they love. They recognize this in each other, and there's a kindrid spirit there.

Babenon and Vandran are actually best boy friends. Sometimes this infuriates Babenon, such as when Vandran insists that the shirt he slept in is fine to go to a meeting in. But they both have a huge flair for the dramatic. If Babenon is out of the Chateau for anything, he will usually try and get Vandran to come along with him.

The two men have some feelings about Marion's line of work, but have an understanding that work is work, and she's the most successful of all of them. They often attend her performances together.

Even though Marion has Bluud, Babenon and Vandran have an understanding that if she is entertaining a client (specifically for sex, which is not all the time, as this is the only time Bluud would be outside the room, and not in it with her and her client), one of them must be close enough to intervene in the chance that there is any kind of danger

Marion, and Bluud, have insisted that this has literally never happened in the Chateau's history. Bluud finds this a point of pride that they don't think he can do his job, Marion backs Bluud up but secretly appreciates the gesture.

That being said, if they ever actually interrupted her with a client she would kill them. She is running a VERY professional business, thank you.

Babenon and Vandran have a better understanding of the complications of their status as 'fathers' in Fjord and Jester's lives, one that Marion thinks they're both "idiots" (her words) about. Babenon is Jester's biological father, but he won't claim the role as he wasn't there to help raise or support her. Vandran technically raised Fjord (hired Fjord when Fjord was ~14-16ish, until Fjord was ~28-30ish), and he mentored Fjord, but he doesn't think he has any right to call himself a father, as he doesn't believe he's added anything good to Fjord's life.

They've been "together" for maybe a year now? (For reference, the Fealty series is ~3 years post-campaign, I think). It took a long time for things to move anywhere beyond flirting, and then there was the crisis where Vandran almost faked his death again and disappeared. Even still, they aren't really 'defined' so much as they are enjoying their time together and taking each day at a time.

Marion wants this to be long-term. But she's waiting to bring it up so that Vandran doesn't panic and run away again.

The "relationship" is a bit of an open secret with Fjord and Jester, if only because Fjord and Jester don't need to know ALL the details of their relationship. The parents can keep a few things, just for themselves. Also, both Vandran and Babenon are a wee bit uncomfortable flaunting anything sexual in front of the kids. Marion is willing to go along with their wishes, though she doesn't see the issue.

You will note that both Marion and Jester are incredibly sex positive and don't share their partners' shame around sex.

While they do have an active sex life, their relationship is based more around companionship. The three of them will be up long into the nights/even into the mornings based on conversations and debates. These are occasionally interrupted with kisses and other things, but not always.

They have been SO excited for Fjord and Jester to finally leave on their trip so that they can have sex all over the house

[nininikki]

𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐃𝐀𝐘, 𝐌𝐑. 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓 | eren jaeger x black reader

III. nice enough

✧ summary! — as eren is faced with an obstacle regarding his fight for the office, all he can seem to think of is you. meanwhile, your dinner at the jaeger’s goes…interestingly.

✧ warnings! — alcohol consumption and mentions of it, mentions of sexual activity (piv), adultery (eren is an aspiring cheater again), age gap—reader is 29 and eren is 40

✧ author’s note! — hello all! part 3 is finally here after what felt like years 😓 hoping that you all love it! bit of exposition & lots of head hopping (aka pov switching) in this one so strap your seatbelts. lmk if i missed anything in the warnings! 🪽💘

✧ word count! — 3.6k

12 AUGUST, THREE MONTHS BEFORE THE PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION

one could argue that there was nothing particularly nice about levi ackerman. he didn’t really like to shake people’s hands, evident by the well hidden grunts of distress under his breath whenever he had to do it and the prompt squirt of hand sanitizer into his palm immediately after. 

he also had a not so great habit of dishing out ridiculous—or, in hindsight not so ridiculous—demands that he was certain would help eren in the polls. “go get a haircut, jaeger. you look fifteen.” or, “go change that tie. never mind, just change the whole damn suit. you look like a bachelor.”

and eren had an even worse habit of listening to everything he said, because the most frustrating thing of all about levi ackerman was that he was never wrong. there was a jump in his numbers after he got rid of that “juvenile haircut” and stopped “dressing like hugh hefner.”

so, when levi deadpanned, “you two need to start acting married.” eren could only assume it was for some reason or another that he’d eventually come to comprehend in about twenty minutes.

“acting married?”

eren had come to learn that levi’s ideas tended to be the most strategic the more asinine they sounded. this fact, however, did not help the ever nagging feeling that eren might as well have been blowing levi’s ten thousand dollar stipend into the wind every month. 

levi swiftly maneuvered his way around their timelessly decorated living room, not bothering to hide the way he kept his hands from lingering too long on any furniture. “acting like you actually love each other. yes, challenging as that may sound, it could win you this election.”

however levi managed to clock the decaying spark in eren’s marriage was neither here nor there. 

mikasa sprouted from her seat as though she were the timid stem of a plant. “levi, with all due respect—”

“i mean, like right now.” right now, eren and mikasa were standing no more than seven feet away from each other on opposite sides of their living room. their respective arms crossed, unionized in their waning tolerance for the current discussion. “you two look like coworkers at best. hold her hand, kiss her on the cheek. where’s the chemistry?”

eren breathed a scoff that weighed a thousand pounds. “chemistry? we have an election to win, and you’re worried about our chemistry?”

“the numbers speak for themselves, jaeger. voters under thirty-five love you. love your policies, your look. if it were up to just them, you’d be a shoo-in. but with voters forty and up—well, you just aren’t traditional enough.”

despite the nonchalance with which levi spoke, eren’s vigorously trained ear picked up on the irritation that lie just beneath. eren could practically hear into the bubbling, cynical cauldron of brilliance that was levi’s brain and pick out the individual remarks springing to the surface. am i gonna have to hire this fucker an intimacy coordinator? for his wife of all people?

never minding the question sounding almost rhetorical in his head, eren still asked, “well, how do we fix that?” he thought back longingly, bitterly to the conversation last night. and the one this morning. a fuzzy, warm, and sugar filled feeling that should’ve been guilt enraptured his chest and abdomen. the last intelligent parts of his brain were brutally kicking him for thinking of a you—a girl that was inconsequential and, for lack of a better word, trouble. you may as well have had a big, glowing red sign floating above your head that blared DANGER whenever he dared step too close.

but, oh, how he wanted to step closer! how he could feel the delicious vines of trouble you were sure to plant into his life and how he found himself longing to be wrapped in them anyway. how he wanted nothing more than to sink his teeth into the forbidden fruit of your skin and revel in whatever nectar you were willing to give him. how he wouldn’t have minded looking danger directly in the eyes if they just so happened to resemble yours.

***

AUGUST 23, THREE MONTHS BEFORE THE PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION

eren could feel his fingers beginning to seize with a barely discernible tremor as they hesitated over his house phone. eleven long days had passed since the last phone call, and a part of him (lots of parts, actually) had started to miss your voice. it was novel that he had even found himself missing the sound of someone’s voice. their voice, of all things. but he guessed you had a knack for realizing the fantastical.

of course, he couldn’t call you just to call. he had to have some sort of reason. an, “oh, i was just wondering if you were still up for dinner” or, “i know you’ve got your premiere today. i was just calling to wish you good luck.”

he couldn’t have wanted to call for the sole purpose of hearing your voice, or wanting to know how your day was going. or for any of the simple pleasure he may have gotten from calling you, anyway. 

calling you without a reason would change things. he’d toe the already vague enough line between checking up on a totally platonic (while also coincidentally drop dead gorgeous) woman in his life and indulging in the attraction that had become so potent within him he was afraid it’d fester if he didn’t act upon it. 

eren dropped the house phone back into its holder with a pathetic clunk, and began the venture into his bathroom in pursuit of splashing some sense into his face. he couldn’t have, not for a second, thought it’d be a good idea to call you at three o’clock on a wednesday with mikasa and levi sitting perfectly conscious just downstairs. 

a noticeable chunk of eren’s resolve crumbled to nothing as he promptly realized that yes, he had considered calling you in the face of the present circumstances. and no, he couldn’t say he cared all that much without willing himself to do so.

***

23 AUGUST, THREE MONTHS BEFORE THE PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION

your relationship with jean kirschtein was something of an enigma. to the ever present and glaring public eye, to your own friends and family, hell, to yourself even. when he wasn’t pretending to be madly in love with you on a silver screen, he was sending you compliments that he didn’t even bother to deliver in a platonic tone. and when he wasn’t doing that, he was whisking you into the dimly lit area of whatever party you both happened to be attending and coating your lips in whiskey flavored kisses that lingered into the early morning.

it almost seemed inevitable the first time you slept with him. with every stolen glance or flirtatious remark, you’d find yourself thinking, any day now. any day now, i’m gonna jump his bones.

and soon enough, your desires were realized one night as he cruised down the hall from his hotel room to yours to wish you a well slumber and wash away the pre-premiere jitters with a bottle of champagne. it didn’t take long before he had your legs wrapped around the base of his spine while the two of you rutted your pleasure-drunken bodies into one another.

ironically enough, that had become your pre-premiere tradition, an arrangement that proved convenient for you last night when colorful thoughts of a certain presidential candidate ran rampant through your mind. you’d found yourself knocking on his hotel room door with your own bottle of champagne—knowing he’d be up for taking your mind off it. still, even with jean buried so deep inside you and your fingernails raking across his shoulders, you couldn’t quite seem to purge him from your mind.

that much is evident when you arrive at the cannes film festival. a steadying, custom-tailored arm snakes around your waist, and judging by the accompanying scent of bleu de chanel, your otherwise preoccupied mind can only assume it’s jean. “hey,” the sound of his voice sobers you just enough to grant him eye contact. “you okay in there?”

“always.” you reassure him with a smile and nod. “let’s go kick ass.”

***

30 AUGUST

just as your knuckles brushed against the front door, a fleeting blanket of tranquility washed over your body in the form of an evening summer breeze. briefly, you wondered if that could be a sign before knocking anyway. it was a timid graze of skin against wood that you weren’t even sure you’d heard. you were prepared to knock again—more confidently and less like you were about to vomit all over the jaeger’s doorstep—when the door swung open.

“and here i was, thinking you’d stood me up.” 

you didn’t think you’d ever quite get used to eren’s beauty. this could’ve had something to do with the fact that he was simply (by some stroke of magic) becoming increasingly attractive each time you laid eyes on him. or with the fact that you were utterly enamored with a new part of him every single time. 

on this particular occasion, it was the tiny beauty mark dotted under his left eye. one could hardly even call it noticeable in the dimmed lighting you two were standing in, but that didn’t stop you from yearning to stretch onto your tiptoes and run the pad of your thumb over it. 

an utterly delighted exhale whistled through your nose as you remarked, “never.” with a newborn shyness coloring your tone, which may or may not have had something to do with the way eren’s shadow managed to eclipse your entire as he braved a footstep in your direction to close the front door behind you. it was in that particular moment that you realized mikasa wasn’t at his side. she’d have most likely greeted you with a hug, a glimmering smile, and all the guilt-inspiring kindness in the world. “where’s, uh, m—”

eren’s eyes, once entirely focused on you, became awkward and clumsy as the last syllable started to leave your lips. “she’s in th—”

“honey, is that (y/n)?” mikasa’s voice, erupting from somewhere further back in the house while still managing to sound composed and almost soft. “i’ll be up in a sec, hold on.”

as the distant echo of mikasa’s voice dwindled, what proceeded to settle over you and eren was an almost tangible bubble of guilt. and taking your eyes off one another would surely burst it right over your heads and drench you both in the sordid feelings you harbored for one another.

of course, you don’t count on eren to have that much concern for things like guilt. because just as the sound of his wife’s voice grew to a steady quiet, you felt his palms—lightly callused and comfortably warm—cup over the back of your arms as he murmured, “you’re so beautiful.”

“eren,” you squeaked his name, a weak attempt at protest. you should’ve known you stood no chance, especially not when the lively green of his eyes bored into yours so deeply you thought you’d feel them in your soul. 

his hands grew a bit firmer over your arms, and you couldn’t shake the feeling of wanting to stay in his hold forever. “yeah?” eren answered, and you would’ve let him kiss you right there. you were so sure of the feeling that it wrapped around your bones. it was in the beating of your heart, the quickness of your breath, in the ribbons of want dripping into your underwear and effectively soiling them for the rest of the night. it was in you.

with no forewarning (although, why would there be) the tell-tale sound of heels came clicking against the same marble floor you were standing on. almost too luckily for you, eren moved into a less compromising position, and you were able to see that the heels were still clicking around the corner and not yet in the foyer. so, mikasa hadn’t seen her husband practically mounting the girl she believed to be their friend. 

this was gonna be a long fucking night.

***

sitting before you was possibly the best plate of pasta you’d ever eaten and just a foot or two across from that was possibly the handsomest man you’d ever had the pleasure of meeting. if you were deluded enough, this could’ve been a date. scarfing down a fattening amount of pasta and drinking thousand dollar wine with the man present in all your recent daydreams.

maybe if you drank enough wine, you’d slide your stiletto up the inside of his leg. back and forth and back and forth again until it wasn’t enough for you. maybe if both of you had enough wine, he’d take you up to his bedroom. or maybe he wouldn’t bother with all the extra walking and just let you have it right here on the dining room table.

but none of that would happen, seeing as just a foot away from him sat his wife, your friend. 

“is the pasta any good, (y/n)?” mikasa asked, as she herself was only eating a salad drenched in avocado and quinoa. 

mouth too full to speak, you simply raised a positive thumb as you waited for the food to go down. “amazing,” you were finally able to breathe out. “everything’s been just lovely.” and it had been. even walking through the jaeger’s home felt like something of an out of body experience for you. the ornate detailing covering the walls, marble floors smooth enough to slide across, and ceilings bejeweled with sparkling chandeliers. the place could’ve been a castle.

after a sip from his glass, eren remarked, “i think you just make lovely company.”

your neck twitched in the urge to bang your head against the table, unsure if it was rooted in being flustered or embarrassed that he would even utter those words out loud. 

after a bout of awkward silence that filled the room with the intensity and speed of a rushing tide, mikasa spoke. “so, how was cannes?” you didn’t miss the way she stabbed at her lettuce, despite desperately wishing you had. 

“uh, great, yeah. really great.” you answered, despite having to flinch whenever you closed your eyes due to the blinding camera flash that still lingered behind the lids. and despite last night being your first full eight hours of sleep after what seemed like months of preparation for this money-covered spectacle. “people liked the movie, that’s all i could really ask for.” a smile graced your features as you recalled the tumultuous, fourteen minute standing ovation. even now, through all the party noise still sticking to you, you remember the triumph burning through your veins as jean wrapped you in a spine-crushing hug.

mikasa smiled through an ear of lettuce. “that’s perfect.” seconds of chewing passed before she added, “y’know, that jean kirschtein guy seems to like you quite a bit.”

“jean?”

“yeah. i mean, the way he looks at you…” you briefly wondered how on earth she would know how jean looks at you (off-camera, at least) before remembering that cannes was a nationally publicized event, and she’d most likely seen bits and pieces of it somewhere at the very very least. “wouldn’t you say so, eren?”

you were actually kicking yourself. like, banging the heel of your stiletto repeatedly your shin and hoping to wake up from this night terror sooner than later. “i don’t know. kid seems nice enough.” eren murmured. you braved a glance at him, only to see that he was staring down into his plate of pasta as his knuckles whitened around his fork. he finally looked up at both of you to say, “let’s not jump down her throat about it.” 

“ugh, i’m so glad we got to do this.” mikasa breathed, her arms wrapping around your neck as the three of you entered the foyer. “i’ve got that women’s conference in georgia in a few weeks, so this is about the only free time i’m getting before then.”

“if anyone can convince them to vote democrat, it’s you.”

her eyes brightened as if it was the first time she’d been complimented in ages. “you think so?”

you nodded, trying to ignore her husband’s shadow burning a hole in your back. “you got it in the bag. don’t even worry about it.”

just as her smile began to widen, a phone somewhere upstairs trilled noisily, and her eyes darted to eren as she headed towards the sound. “that might be levi. will you walk her out while i…” mikasa gestured upwards, and they shared a look of mutual understanding over your head that had envy coiling in your gut.

in a matter of seconds, mikasa had zipped from the foyer and ventured up the stairs before you could even blink a goodbye in her direction. you shot eren a questioning set of eyes, to which he only wearily answered, “campaign manager.”

as eren walked you out the door, you could feel a question—the question—sitting eagerly on his tongue, so it wasn’t at all a surprise when he remarked, “jean kirschtein, huh?”

pale ribbons of moonlight illuminated his features, brightening the coquettish smile stretched across his face. “problem?” you quickly and confidently answered his question with another, even as you could feel your legs buckling under the weight of his stare. 

“no, not at all. he seems…” eren shook his head so unconvincingly that he may as well have said yes. 

“‘nice enough.’ right?”

for a brief instant, something darkened behind his eyes, and you couldn’t tell if it scared you or turned you on. “i lied. not nice enough for you.”

“oh? and are you saying you know someone who is?” a giggle slipped from your lips as you let your heeled foot briefly glide against the hem of his pant leg.

even in the growing darkness, his cheeks lit aflame in a blush. “god, i don’t even know what i’m saying.”

just then, your limo smoothed up the driveway and came to a halt where you stood at the front entrance. “well, call me when you do.”

***

your house phone trills ecstatically at around midnight, and you weren’t at all surprised by the voice on the other end. “you know i don’t think he’s good enough for you.”

throwing a nightgown over your naked, freshly showered body, you simper, “and who are you to make that judgment?”

“i’m making this judgment as someone who might possibly be good enough for you.”

“‘might possibly’ yeah, if we just remove the wife and presidential candidacy.” you momentarily considered a world where there was no wife or presidential candidacy. where you and eren met at some country club near santa barbara and could be blissfully smitten without interruption. without the glaring eyes of guilt crawling over your back whenever you so much as thought about him. “i’d say you’re perfect.”

“perfect, huh?” the cocky lilt in his tone sobered you as much as it excited you. 

“hey, grain of salt.” you teased as you threw your head back into the throng of pillows at the head of your bed and wished desperately that eren could see the way you were smiling. “very clear conditions were stated. conditions you obviously cannot meet.”

“stop that.” eren whispered, his voice half a notch sterner.

“stop what?”

“being so pessimistic.” at this, you laughed, because eren’s hopeless sense of optimism was nothing if not utterly amusing. 

“no other choice.”

treacherously long beats of silence roll by, giving you no other choice than to think about what you just said. would it really be so foolish to think that this (whatever it was you two had going on) stood a chance in the face of all the present circumstances—his marriage, the election, your reputation and career. sitting here now, listening to the peaceful whistles of his breath between his lips and soaking up the utter peace it brought you, you almost could’ve been coaxed into believing the answer was no.

“(y/n),” eren’s voice wakes you. “can i ask something of you?”

“depends on what.” you breathe, checking the clock on your bedside table. 12:06.

“there’s this, uh, dinner we’re hosting at my family’s ballroom. try to garner support and that kinda thing. i don’t know, it was mainly mika’s idea. but anyway,” the distant sounds of ice rolling around in a scotch glass graced your ears. “i want you to be there.”

i want you to be there. “oh, eren, i—” you cut yourself off, heart hammering in your chest so fervently you thought it might explode. i want you to be there. “i don’t—” i want you to be there. “i don’t know if that’s really my scene.” you tried to keep the tremor out of your voice for long enough to get the sentence out. 

“nonsense. america loves you. you’d be a huge help, if anything.” his voice was doing that thing again. that thing where it seeped from the receiver of the phone and sang to your senses in a way that made it feel like he was really there with you. “but that’s not why i want you there.”

“why do you want me there?”

“just to see you again.” it warmed your heart, and every other surface area of skin on your body, that he was already looking for a way to see you again despite having just left you today. 

“is this my official invitation?”

“‘course it is. i’ll handle everything else. just put on the prettiest dress you own and show up.” you glanced over at your walk-in closet with its double doors still open ajar and briefly pondered over which dress—out of the hundreds—might be the prettiest one you own. “can you do that for me?”

“yeah,” the word left your lips as if someone had punched it and all the air from your lungs. eren had the power to do that to you, and if at some point down the line, you got any stupider than this, you’d give him the power to do so much more. “yeah, i can.”

tags ✧˖*°࿐ — @nyanglock @beyondsuki @westcinny @taylarxse @ittostan @rensbby @madsoncrack @shawtynoire @braxxinterlude @kai7911

© NININIKKI. do not translate, copy, or modify my works in any way shape or form.

[bengiyo]

Only Boo! Ep 8 Stray Thoughts

Last week, Moo got too excited the night before his audition and was late. Potae was off his game due to nerves, and he and Moo got into a fight about their mistakes. Jang, an idol, took a shine to Payos. Only Payos passed the audition. Kang rejected Shone, and has confirmed boyfriends with Moo.

If this show must contrive intimacy delays, I like the hand kissing as an indication that Kang wants to.

Episode 8: My Boo

I love that the date montage takes place over just a few days. Moo has been waiting and needs to get it in.

Oh ho, negotiating forms of address.

Kabedon!

I love Moo wanting to cook for Kang, and also that he's so serious about the tone they're using with each other.

This pre-separation anxiety feels very high school in a way that is landing solidly for me. I do like Moo a lot.

Oof, getting some Theory of Love flashbacks on Khai making Third deal with the girlfriends.

Once again glad that a confession was a fantasy because it felt so off. Another reminder to the audience.

Now which screenwriter is working out something in this script with this lament about who gets the opportunity versus who works for it the hardest?

I get that we don't have time to introduce more parents, by how is a minor signing this contract?

Okay, I like Moo glaring at Potae to speak nicely to Payos.

We're a bit late in the show, but I'm okay with Jang showing up as a complication for the side romance.

Moo's confidence about his attraction to Kang is so special.

I like Moo's song, but the tuning on the voices is strong.

I doubt Payos will confess this episode.

Are we back to wondering if the realities of public life will force Moo into the closet? I feel like I don't trust this show about this anymore.

This episode is so optimistic about the romantic future for our leads that I'm instinctively expecting a major crash at the end of this episode.

Did they intend to give Moo a graduation haircut??

I remain a fan of the teachers in this show. Reminding students that they are the ones who did the work to get through these challenges is the last lesson.

Not this teacher making me cry because he wanted to get his student's autograph.

Well well well, Payos managed to express it this episode.

This kiss feels like they worked hard on calibrating it for where the characters are and the experience level of the actors.

Interesting! We're progressing to cohabitation in college next week. That doesn't happen often. The only example that rushes to mind is Utsukushii Kare.

This was a fun episode that didn't end on a downer like I feared. I am never sure where this show wants to go, but I'm glad we got to see our leads transition into their sweet boyfriends era. I still don't know why Shone was in this show, because his absence meant nothing this week. I grow to love Moo more every week, and I wanna talk to this writing team about how they conceived Dynamite and Moo someday.

[rorywritesjunk]

There's no race, no ending in sight

r rating. title comes from "two of us on the run" by lucius

(the end. a summary if you will. talk of body insecurity, there's reference to intimacy, mention of pregnancy, all kinds of things to wrap this story up. cliche ending? hell yes! thank you for reading my spontaneous au of these two, it has been so much fun to write and discuss! 🧡)

Taglist: @hey-august @thoraeth

pt 1 + pt 2 + p3 + p4 + pt 5 + p6 + pt 7 +Pt 8 + Pt 9 + Pt 10 + Pt 11 + Pt 12 + Pt 13 + Pt 14 + Pt 15 + pt 16 + Pt 17 (End)

Pt 17 (End)

Months later

Sunny woke up with her mouth full of hair, arms full of a shirtless clown, and a wish that she could sleep longer. Buggy was a heavy sleeper, always starting off beside her but ending up half on top of her halfway through the night. She wasn't complaining. She enjoyed snuggling with him.

She managed to get his hair out of her mouth, making a face once she was done. He was still asleep, huffing out a content little sigh as he nuzzled her, tightening his hold on her as he snored. Sunny rolled her eyes before kissing him on top of his head. She needed to start breakfast but he would fuss if she got out of bed before he was awake.

The last few months took a lot out of her, from Crocodile allowing her to leave to moving in with Buggy immediately, not only that getting used to someone who let her do what she wanted as an adjustment. If she didn't brush her hair, he offered to do it for her. If the bed wasn't made, Buggy didn't notice. If she wore overalls all week he was fine with that. He liked tugging on the straps to drag her along with him.

Buggy didn't seem to be getting too much shit from Crocodile, he was only met with one threat that he better treat Sunny well or else a few days after the marriage ended. Mihawk just seemed amused by it all.

They had hiccups in this budding relationship, any would, but Sunny felt relaxed and comfortable now, felt safe telling him no or that she disagreed with him. He was a little over the top sometimes with his reactions to things (Alvida gave Sunny a haircut, trimming off a few inches of her hair, and Buggy was shocked and demanded to know what happened while he may have cried a little over the sudden change) but Sunny wasn't bothered by it, more amused than anything.

Her biggest thing was asking him about doing every little thing, from bringing him a drink to asking if she could take Richie out for a walk. Buggy had the hardest time with that, wanting her to be independent and finally having to tell her she didn't need to ask to do every damn little thing, that he wanted her to do what she wanted because she could do whatever she wanted now.

That... Seemed to flip a switch.

Since then she would find him just to kiss him on the cheek or get a hug. When he'd come back from a meeting she would have a snack and drink ready for him, he wouldn't even think of asking for it but she always did, giving him a kiss before handing it to him.

Buggy knew he was in love before but now he was absolutely head over heels for this woman. And he could tell her that all the time without fear of injury.

Now he got to wake up with her every morning, which he was reluctantly doing now, thought he would have preferred to keep sleeping. She was playing with his hair, kissing his forehead softly, already wide awake. He sighed and finally lifted his head up to look at her.

"Can I keep sleeping?"

"No, Buggy, we have to get up. There's things to do." She told him, kissing him on the nose as he let his head drop back down with a whine. He hated getting out of bed. He just wanted to stay and hold her for a while longer. "Look on the bright side, no meetings today, right? You get to spend the day here with me!"

"Which means we can stay in bed, right?" He grinned. "I am technically in charge of this place."

"Yes, but not in charge of me." She teased him as she pushed him off her and onto his back. Before he could protest she moved on top of him, straddling his lap as she grinned down at him. "So I guess that means I'm also in charge, right?"

"Um-"

"Ohhohoho, Buggy, Chairman of the Cross Guild, is speechless?" She hummed as she rested her hand on his stomach, stroking the blue hair covering his skin before her hand moved up to his chest. "How would your men deal with the fact that your sweet girlfriend could get to you like this?"

"Don't tease, babe." He whined as she leaned down to kiss him, slowly rocking her hips, getting him flustered, hard, and his hands went to her ass but she suddenly climbed off him, giving his stomach a pat as he laid there, flushed and breathing heavily as she went to get some clothes to wear.

"Now you're awake, so let's get the day started." She told him, a big grin on her face as she started to change right in front of him. It wasn't fair.

~

She kept him well fed. He never went hungry with Sunny because she was always ready with food for him and he never hesitated in showing his thanks with a kiss. The first time they actually kissed, days after she showed up at his tent asking for a date, was definitely something Buggy wouldn't forget.

She had made him a sandwich, figuring he had to be hungry after a four hour long meeting with Mihawk and Crocodile about the investors from the party. When she brought it to his office where he was slumped over his desk, he thought he couldn't get any luckier when he saw the food she made.

He didn't even take a bite of the sandwich before he threw himself at her and kissed her. Though caught off guard, she kissed him back, blushing and smiling brightly at him.

~

When Sunny started to notice her clothes fitting snug in places, she realized she could use some of the skills she learned to help out her clothes. Though she wasn't able to complete her apprenticeship, she had practiced when she could, so now she got to try, letting out a pair of pants, adding extra colorful fabric to the sides of her shirts.

Buggy walked in on her in her underwear in their room as she finished sewing pretty blue fabric pieces to the sides of her pants to give her more room. She saw him staring at her and felt the excitement slip away. Was he going to be okay with this? What if he wanted her to lose the weight, or what if he got mad for wrecking her clothes, even though she made sure they fit and held up to her movements.

"Buggy, um-"

He kicked the door shut, startling her, before marching over to her to kiss her. That wasn't the reaction she expected.

"Look at you, so beautiful, wonderful, you're all mine." He grinned as he shed his own clothes before kissing her again, pushing her onto the bed as she let out gasps and moans as his hands went everywhere, touching her, grabbing at her stomach, hips, rolls, everything. He left marks along her body, more gentle than Crocodile had ever been, but he wanted her to know how much he loved her body as she whined and moaned for him.

When they were finished, she had her head against his chest, blushing as she looked at some of the marks along her arms.

"So... what do you think of the alterations to my clothes, Buggy?" She asked as his hand moved to her ass, giving it a squeeze.

"Oh, fine, I guess, didn't get a chance to see them on you, babe." He said smugly as she rolled her eyes. "I prefer them on the floor, though."

"Of course you do." Sunny stuck her tongue out at him before swatting his hand away from her backside. "But um, you're... okay with this?"

"With what?" His hand returned, moving to her thigh now. "Your clothes? I don't care what you wear, babe."

"No, are you okay that I... have to let my clothes out?" She asked. "My body's been changing."

Buggy stared down at her as he tried to think before he spoke, not wanting to say anything too stupid that would get him in hot water with her. He scratched his head and shrugged.

"I love it that you're feeling safe and relaxed, babe." He assured her, watching her face for a reaction as he hoped those were the right words. "I'd be worried if you didn't gain some weight, okay, so don't worry. I love you and your body, no matter how it looks, so don't stress."

"Really?" Tears welled up in her eyes. Buggy felt himself starting to panic a little bit.

"Y-Yes! I do, I love it!" He said as she started to cry. "What's wrong, why are you crying?!"

"Because I love you and you're so sweet!"

"That's making you cry?!"

"Yes!"

~

A few more months passed. The Cross Guild was doing well, Sunny was adjusting more to her new life, and she fell more in love with Buggy each day. It was getting harder to believe a life without him at this point, despite being together for such a short time, but twenty years of misery made her appreciate everything he did for her.

It wasn't perfect, they had two different personalities, but it didn't stop Buggy from constantly flirting with her, telling her how much he loved her, everything while Sunny would hold his hand and kiss him in front of his men, ignoring the cheers of Chairman Buggy gets the girl! which had Buggy turning red as Sunny laughed.

The biggest issue was one that Sunny just found out about. It was a surprise, she thought maybe she'd be too old as she hit 40, but a visit with a doctor confirmed why her body was feeling weird, she felt more tired than usual, except she was missing out on the morning sickness by a miracle.

How the hell was Buggy going to take this? They never even came close to talking about this, still in the early days of their relationship as they got to know one another.

If she wasn't feeling as safe as she did with him, she would have found some other way around it. Instead, at dinner after she made him a small feast and put her hand on his as he took a bite of food as she told him.

"Buggy, I'm pregnant."

He choked. She helped him out, making sure he was okay, and once he was done gasping for air, he stared at her with an expression she didn't quite understand.

"Really?"

"Y-Yea..."

His eyes lit up. "I'm going to teach that little shit how to fire a cannon, juggle, everything. That kid will be the flashiest little brat ever because they're going to be a child of Buggy the Clown!"

"You're happy about this?" She asked, surprised. This wasn't the reaction she anticipated, but at the same time, she wasn't sure how he was going to react. "Really?"

"Yes, really!" Buggy told her as he pounded his fist on the table in excitement. "I got the love of my life, most beautiful woman in the world, telling me she's carrying my kid? I'm going to have a kid I can raise to be one of the best pirates in the world! And when I'm King of the Pirates, everyone will respect us and fear us!"

"Yea?"

Buggy stood up suddenly and pulled her to her feet, catching her in his arms before spinning her around. He even dipped her, which startled her, but he pulled her back up to kiss her. She was a little flustered from the sudden movements, her head spinning, but she felt safe in his arms as he held her, kissing her face all over as he began swaying with her, slow movements, forgetting the food as he hugged her tightly.

"I love you, Sunny." He told her. "I'm lucky to have you."

She smiled and put her hands on his face, patting his cheeks gently, feeling the stubble under her fingers before she leaned in for a kiss.

"I love you, Buggy, thank you for having me."

He grinned and spun her around once more. He couldn't wait to tell his men the news.

[royalsunshinehotel]

may i request nsfw alphabet with napoleon usher?

Napoleon 'Leo' Usher (NSFW Alphabet, 18+)

A/N: I’m writing this after watching Episode Four with @hecuba-of-troy. It’s such a slay, and I love Rahul Kohli so much. This being said, Leo is the worst and I hate him, and I want him. Please enjoy this NSFW alphabet for the worst character ever. 

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex) It’s minimal, if not nonexistent. Leo, after coming in to the Usher family at age 18, was certified at the ‘fuck-and-run’ 

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

I don't think he likes to look close enough at his partners to have a favorite body part. For him, he likes his hands and his hair

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) He hasn’t got a preference beyond: as much as possible, and everywhere. Cleaning up after is usually a multi-step process. 

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) There was definitely a time in his life when he had a spreadsheet of everyone he’d done sexual activities with. Yes, it is now deleted because he’s become more confident in himself in his thirties. Is it always warranted? Who’s to say. Is the spreadsheet now deleted? Yeah, and he’ll deny it ever existed. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?) Oh he’s a certified slut. He knows what he needs to do to ‘maintain his reputation’, and he’s probably going to do it. 

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) He’s a big fan of his partners either being on top, or being on all fours. He’s pretty tall, so whatever’s best for his upper back that day is usually what makes the choice. 

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.) I think he tries to keep it minimal, because goofiness can lead to Intimacy and he can't have that. If he cracks a joke, you’ll laugh and then what !!! chaos (See I) 

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) I seriously think it matches his fuck ass haircut. Like short on the sides long on the middle. I don’t know hair growth patterns down there, but you get the idea. 

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) I feel like he’s capable of it, but he’ll have to dump you immediately after. It’s something he actively has to tamp down in the name of getting off. 

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) A whole lot. 3x daily I fear. 

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) There's no way he’s having a fucking ass stupid ass haircut like that if you’re not the one pulling on it. Fucking fuck ass shaved sides fuckboy. Like I don’t know what that style is called, but it’s right there next to ‘fuck ass bob’. 

Next after that, I think he’s really into lite bondage. Just being tied up and used by you, which you’re happy to do. 

L = Location (favorite places to do the do) Typically at home, but if it’s been a to of family drama, he’ll fuck you in his car on the way to/from the family event. Next after that, the two of you get nasty in the shower, and then the bedroom. 

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) A gust of air? Typically I feel like Leo gets a little bit stuck in his own head, typically in a negative train of thought. That usually does it, but he’ll never let it on. He’ll literally use you to feel Anything, but not That much. Sorry!! He needs therapy!!

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs) I feel like choking/ anything to do with pain really, it’s off the table. If there’s one thing about Leo, he would never hurt you on purpose. 

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) Receiving. I’m not gonna say any more than that. 

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) It depends on the mood honestly, fast and rough if he’s had a hard time with his family, but it’s slow and sensual and lazy most other times. 

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.) IDK why I feel this way, but I don’t think Leo is very into quickies, just because he doesn’t strike me as a man who is good at multitasking. Like if a partner were to initiate sex, it would suddenly be sex-time for sex havers. Whatever he was doing before, would have to be put on hold. 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.) Oh he’s all about it, anything to feel something. I see a lot of fucking on his balcony, perhaps in the bathroom at a cool restaurant. 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?) I think he’s been blessed with a whole lot of stamina, almost alarmingly so. Just picture his partner, exhausted, and Leo just cheesing like :D need a break? 

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?) I think he’s got a substantial collection, because he’s a lazy lover and if he can’t pawn the work off on his partner, he’ll pawn it off on a toy. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) I think it’s up to his partners to tease. Leo is a bit of a glutton, so I can’t see him knowing how to tease, or tease well. 

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.) I know this man’s loud as hell. In canon, he’s a slut who hooks up with his instagram followers. I truly believe he doesn’t care who hears ever, and he’s probably smug and selfish, regardless of his minimal effort. 

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character) I feel like Leo has his hair like that by mistake. It looks kind of like a mistake, like he went on a bender, and woke up with his hair like that. This being the case, he’s big into wearing hats in the winter, because the sides of his head like that.  

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes) He’s a stallion, in his fucking prime. Thank you, god bless. 

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?) As we see on the show, it’s pretty darn high. The two of you are definitely NOT monogamous because I’m betting this man drowns his low self-esteem with a high sex drive. He picks up anything that moves and has sex with it. He’s very much the type to say “i don’t know” when you ask about people in his apartment. 

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) 

I think regardless of him being on his “best behavior” he knocks out almost immediately after. He’s very much the type to just roll over and fall asleep, for better or worse.

[mistresskayla-blog1]

**My Past Lovers Series**

The Crooner

Characters: Lawrence x OC Kayla Crowe

(please forgive the images. Its a facsimile. I could not find one exactly right for him. His hair was dark red, and sat much like RA's during Uncle Vanya. Which is super sexy haircut I think. And he had a bit of a five oclock shadow, but not as precise as RAs of course. we didnt take selfies back then either, so I had to remember him, from, well memory).

Characters: Kayla Crowe x Lawrence (lover)

Fandom: Original Content  (Kayla Crowe universe – My Past Lovers Series)

Word count total: 4.5k  (2 parts)

Warnings: fluff, angst, one-night stands, p in v, oral (female receiving), showering together, condom use, intimacy, sweetness, karaoke, limited exposure, psychosexual attraction.

Kayla saw him get on stage, knowing some mutual friends, but never seeing him before. He was tall, with shady ginger hair and the brightest green eyes she’d ever seen. Kayla was instantly attracted to him. He was wearing a suit casually on his lithe frame. It made him even more dapper, in the stream of spotlights as he stepped up to the mike, on Karaoke night. He handled the microphone like an old friend, loosely, but focused, and spoke a lilt of pure velvet against her ears, singing “I’m Just A Gigolo” by Louis Prima. He sang it with style and panache and she felt her core twitch in response, as if he was singing for his freedom in some way, she was captivated. After he finished, she was up a few spots next.

Kayla kept her distance, watching him a bit, as he watched her. She belted out one of her regular favorites, “Criminal” by Fiona Apple, and he kept his eyes locked on her, despite a few ladies stepping up to him during her chorus. She didn’t make direct eye contact, and sang to the crowd, who were spell bound for those 4 minutes. She finished and saw him move to her friend Andrew, who was just as tall as him, whispering in his ear. Kayla moved back to her seat towards the front of the bar and sipped her drink. He stayed at the far end of the bar near the stage, keeping in conversation with his friends, whom were by coincidence hers as well. Kayla finally got her courage up, finishing her drink and walking up to Andrew and his friend.

“Hey Andrew, whose your friend?” Kayla asked, eyeing the shorter of the very tall men before her. Andrew was blonde, wide shouldered and gorgeous, but she knew he was off limits, and she respected that. But this other man, was a free agent in her mind until she knew otherwise.  Andrew smiled, with a wink in his smile, “Oh, this is Lawrence,” he made a sweeping hand gesture as Lawrence stood tall, “Lawrence, this is Kayla,”.  Lawrence smiled widely at her, “Hello,” she thought he was going to kiss her hand, but instead he kept his back rod straight and it was just the playfulness in his eyes that she saw.

“You were really good up there”, Lawrence began, half shouting over another participant who was butchering a rendition of My Girl. Kayla blushed, “Thanks. The crowd isn’t bad tonight”.

“Oh, are you here a lot?” Lawrence asked. Kayla nodded, “yeah about 4 nights a week actually”, She looked down a bit at her lemon water. She invited Lawrence back to the seating in the corner. She was sober as a judge and she still was drooling over him, in her mind. She hadn’t really dressed for that kind of interaction, but she was glad she had on sexy underwear. She sipped her drink, “I haven’t seen you around before, how do you know Andrew?”

Lawrence looked behind him, and chuckled as Andrew gave him a knowing look, “I moved away, and came back. Just had a -  (he paused fiddling), well anyways, I won’t be here long maybe another month, but I thought I would look the old gang up”. Lawrence smiled, but there was a sad story behind it.

Kayla kept her eye contact, “Ahh. I see. Well its still nice to meet you. Andrew and the gang are great. They have really made me feel welcome in the company”. Lawrence nodded, “He has his moments, I think they may be meddling right now, however”, Andrew stepped up to him then, shoulders on Lawrence’s back.

“You take care of our boy huh, Kayla?” Andrew said, smiling broadly and winking stepping away from them and exiting the bar. Kayla giggled up at Andrew, “Sure, of course, hes in good hands”.

Lawrence looked at Kayla then with a bit more interest, “Have a good night”, he said, to Andrew, without looking at him. The women trailing behind Andrew was smiling at Kayla too and gave her a hopeful look.

The bar started to drift towards the doorway as the night wore on. Lawrence and Kayla sat together and chatted in a way that can only be described as heated awkwardness. Comical chit chat that usually happens between two people that are sexually charged for each other and cannot do anything about it before finding out basic relationship status or locale of apartments. Lawrence made the first move, so to speak and offered to walk her back to his place for a night cap. Kayla agreed.  

Kayla had always heard that phrase in film, but never in her life, until now. Her boots were not made for walking this evening, but she did her best to keep his pace of long legs and as she walked with him through the downtown and all the way to his flat, she was nervous and excited. A guy that looked like this, into her? It was too much, but she endeavored to make the most of it. Even though she kept saying stupid things, he really was gracious, and funny and warm.

The walk took about 25 minutes from the bar and she listened as he spent most of the time telling his life story to her. She made quips and tried to offer antidotes, but basically she just let him talk. They both laughed at the same things and talked a bit about other life challenges. She learned he was fresh off a relationship, but long enough that he was able to talk about it. He was a chef and was moving to Atlanta from here. Here being Chicago. Kayla’s apartment was much closer to the bar than Lawrences’ but it housed some unruly roommates, so she opted to his, not knowing if she was getting laid or not, as open as he was he was still hard to read. He said his car was parked at home, that was comforting. Kayla’s car was sitting at her apartment as well. Though it didn’t go anywhere much except for a grocery run every few weeks. In your 20s you can live off a lot less actual food, and mostly caffeine and liquor.  

Kayla knew the part of the city his apartment was in, but about halfway through the walk, she was starting to get a bit nervous, it was nice that he wanted to walk though. It wasn’t the normal response back then. Get the girl home and start things was really the plan for guys usually. But he had watched her at the bar, not spoken up, chatted, and took a long stroll, laying his past out before her like breadcrumbs through the forest.

His voice was a mixture of softness and deepness, and he smelled absolutely fantastic in the warm summer breeze that blew by them every so often on the sidewalk. Kayla's feet were killing her by the time they got to the apartment, and she was a bit sweaty in her jeans and blouse. Her heeled boots clacked into his flat. It was a single man’s furnished apartment, some things in large boxes in the living room. Dishes in the sink, he worked very long hours, he said when she went for a glass to get some water out of the tap in the galley style kitchen.

Lawrence was straightening up his bed absently, as she came into his room. His smile was a soft smirk, like he was nervous too.  He came around the other side of the room towards her and stepped up to her. She had removed her boots and was now about 3 inches shorter against his 6’2” height, making her 5’8” seem much smaller. His hand went towards her face, and paused midair, as he leaned towards her, “Can I kiss you?” he asked, Kayla was so shocked by the question she nearly didn’t respond. She just nodded, murmuring a yes and he cupped his hand to her cheek and kissed her softly. It was the gentlest she had been ever kissed. And her heart immediately fluttered. He started to undress her, first and she moved to undress him.

Lawrence unbuttoned her jeans and pulled them down slowly, revealing her lacy panties, which he pulled down slowly as well, coming to his knees before her. She bit her bottom lip in anticipation at his next move. But he simply rose to his height again, kissed her, and pulled her into himself, in an intimate hug. Kayla brought her arms around him in response, and ran her fingers up his spine, while his lips moved onto her neck and down to her shoulder.

They kept kissing in the bedroom and then as they both stood naked to each other, then he led her to the bathroom and started the shower. Lawrence led her into the shower first, then stepped in. Closing the patterned glass door behind him. They were now in the shower together, and able to see in the light over the pedestal sink what each other looked like plainly. He was immediately aroused and eager to touch her. She looked up at him like a fascinated sculptor looking at clay. She moved to touch his lean and slightly chiseled stomach, the warm water cascading down both their bodies in the shower. He cupped her breasts and Kayla let out a moan of acceptance. The sound of kissing, water trickling filled the small bathroom in ambient resonance. Lawrence spoke to her in praise, “your so beautiful,” Kayla smiled, trying to accept the compliment, she was hypnotized by this moment, standing bear in front of a man she hadn’t slept with yet.

It was a novel experience to be sure. No one had ever been so careful or so consensual with her before. She almost didn’t know how to respond, so she just continued to touch him and let him kiss her. The hot water vanishing the sweat from their bodies, for now. He turned her in the shower so he was on the spicket side of the tub, and now Kayla was facing the opposite wall. Lawrence’s hands were exploring her body, and he continued to kiss her water laden skin. The water stopped and he slid the glass door open, steam pouring out of the tub. Kayla exited first and stood dripping wet on his bathroom rug. Lawrence grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her, kissing her again on the mouth. He was so sexy, so tall, so gentle, Kayla just existed in this moment, trying to remember how to seduce a man. She was well able, but following his lead in this moment was way more enjoyable.

“Your so sexy, do you know that?” Lawrence said as they entered the bedroom again.

Kayla sat on the edge of the bed, and Lawrence gleamed at her, his hands on her thighs as he got to his knees before her. His eyes were hungry and curious, and Kayla was aroused even more, “Can I taste you?” Lawrence asked and Kayla’s pussy was aflame. She nodded, a slight groan coming from her throat.

Lawrence smiled ruefully, and dove his head between her legs, his kisses becoming more and more intimate in the shadowed bedroom. Kayla fell back on the bed and let him devour her in the lowlight. Just taking in sensation, the more his tongue played, the wetter she got. He flicked her clit, and her hands made it to his hair, as she gasped, “Gently, please”. Lawrence chuckled, “as you wish”.

Oh that did it. Kayla felt that micro-orgasm flush her cheeks, no one drops a Princess Bride line in her presence without some kind of reaction. Lawrence rose between her legs and his frame was hovering above her now, his lips wet from her folds pushed into hers then, he was panting a bit in eagerness. His cock rod straight against her thigh.

She looked at him, as he hovered, “Condom?” she mumbled. And he snapped back a second, reaching his long arm towards a bedside table drawer. Yanking it open and pulling one out. He ripped it open with his teeth, right by her face and expertly placed it on himself. His smile was beautiful as he looked down at her, he looked like he wanted to say something, but he didn’t. He just moved closer to her, and his cock slid in effortlessly. It was long and lithe just like the man. Kayla clung to his frame as he pushed all the way in, and then slowly, and beguilingly made little thrusts in and out. Playing with her, like an musician to an instrument. Her pants and moans were music to his ears, and he kept kissing her for as long as possible before breaking off to pull out and roll her over. He lifted her hips up and took her from behind, his thrusts becoming more and more quick.

Kayla arched her back and turned to look at him a moment, his brow was sweaty and he looked like he was on the brink. His pants and groans were sexy as fuck, and she moved swiftly to stop his machinations.

“Where are you going?” he asked, surprised.

Kayla turned around on her knees, “You are laying down, its my turn now”, a glint in her eyes, Lawrence smiled and gulped. Then nodded compliantly. Lawrence laid on his back and Kayla straddled him, rubbing her slick pussy against his cock, in a tease, she eased onto it, inch by inch, her pussy pulsing against him. You could see his face clench in response, then he eased back, watching her. Kayla rubbed her own breasts, so Lawrence’s hands found their way to them as well, pinching at her nipples, as she yelped in delight. Kayla’s hand drifted to her clit, and she made little circles around it with her index and middle fingers. She looked at him, in his grace on his back, then closed her eyes and started to grind on him.  

“Oh god.. you feel amazing, …Kay – la” Lawrence cooed, his resolve starting to break as she ground into his hips faster, then slower, than faster again, bringing her own orgasm to its full illumination. Kayla started to moan louder and stronger and Lawrence followed her on that path, his hands gripping her hips and ass, as she went faster. He thrust up from underneath and she let out a loud gaspy moan. He gritted his teeth and cackled proudly, moving faster then her. She fell upon his chest as he thrust harder and faster from underneath. Her pussy fluttered and squeezed and he came hard inside her, the condom nearly bursting against the pressure. Though he had finished, he was still stroking, lazily. Kayla shuddered against him, and made little mewls, as she kissed his neck and shoulder. Lawrence rolled over to her side, and smiled at her, her eyes were drifting open and closed in sated sleepiness.

Lawrence cupped her face in his hands and kissed her deeply, and meaningfully. His eyes searched hers a moment, as hers eyes flickered open. “Do you need anything?” he asked her. Brushing her hair away from her face and leaving it at her shoulder. She shook her head and closed her eyes again, smiling.

Lawrence moved to the bathroom, removing the condom, discarding it in the trash bin and wiping his cock and balls off with a rag on the sink. He splashed some water on his face and dried it with the towel hanging on a circular hook on the wall. He padded out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom and found Kayla snuggling under the covers of his bed. Lawrence crawled in with her and laid his long frame against her curvy one. His hand resting against her hip, facing her. She opened her eyes, as he kissed her again. Then he rolled to his back, and she cuddled into his chest, tucking herself under his arm.

She was halfway between sleep and wakefulness and he started to chat again, Kayla opened her eyes, to look up at him. Her hand resting over his heart. Lawrence put his hand over hers, and he sighed happily.

“God, that was good. I think you healed me, Goddess that you are”, Lawrence said aloud.

Kayla smiled, “Yeah, I do that sometimes. I’m glad I could be of help.”

Lawrence hugged her then, against his chest, kissing the top of her head, “You did. I thank you, sincerely”.

“Well you seemed so sad when you sang, I had to make you feel better”, Kayla mused.

“Is that it? Is that how I convinced you here, it was all your doing?” he chuckled, and she did too.

“No, I just thought you would be fun to get to know. And I was right.” Kayla answered.

Lawrence held her close and sighed again, then rolled to his side, Kayla spooned him, her arm draped over his side. Her lips marking kisses against the back of his neck, until it was just her soft breath on his skin. They both fell asleep relaxed.

(part 2 will post in a few days, just dripping for effect, hehe)

Taglist:

@sweetestgbye @lathalea @legolasbadass @richardarmitageshands @evenstaredits @middleearthpixie @riepu10 @richardarmitagefanpage @enchantzz @littlesweetdressmaker

thanks to my lovely ladies that support my stories, and there unwavering devotion to RA!!!

[halfetirosie]

Hi, ♡ Edmond ♡ :D (Thoughts on the first silhouette)

Okay so, I think we all know that this silhouette belongs to my wife.

The pose wouldn't really suit Blade, and the hair isn't as wavy as Blade's, and [most overtly] the little descriptors posted alongside the silhouette suit what Edmond goes through in a lot of the events:

Hell, just the word "principles" screams Edmond.

I have mixed feels. I was hoping to have more time to save up for my #1 Best Boy, so if I'm unlucky with my pulls it'll be putting me in a tight spot. I'm also a little worried about what Ed's presence means for the Blade fans; will the devs do another Ed + Blade banner, or a 3-way banner with Ed + Quincy + Blade but Blade is a SR???

But on the other hand....

♡ EDMOND ♡

The last time they gave a character a haircut (Dante) I was very unimpressed. However, based on the silhouette, I think they did a better job styling short hair on Ed. It'll probably look something like this:

(from GORI on Twitter)

I'm very excited to see what kind of uniform he's wearing this event! I can't wait to see what sort of dramatic emotional trials he'll have to deal with! I CAN'T WAIT TO SEE THE INTIMACY ROOMS!!!!

(I mean, come on. Prison? Edmond??? The BDSM potential is OFF THE CHARTS. Devs, please, for the love of god, give my boy more of what he clearly likes!!! Give him the prison guard/prisoner fantasy!!!!)

I'm just ALWAYS happy to see Edmond ♡♡♡♡♡

Yes, I am prone to unwise decision-making related to my obsessions. Yes, this next event has the potential to bankrupt me.

But it's EDMOND......

(˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶) ♡♡♡

[fletchysohot]

II.

Sleepy Kisses

Lil' 1.2k sleepy pondering about Kieran idk what else to tell you lot

As far as new relationships go dating someone who had a schedule just as busy as yours had been hard to say the least. It was almost like the two of you were just two ships in the night most of the time, having to settle for mostly FaceTime calls and texts. That had not kept you from falling head over heals for Kieran in just a few months. His accent didn’t help much when it came to not seeing heart eyes. The two of you had finally found a night where you were both free and in London. You had been dying to have a proper date night, but the thought of paparazzi’s and prying eyes had instantly put both of you off the thought of going out in public. You wanted to savour the intimacy of the honeymoon period without speculation about what this was even before either of you had the answer that question for yourselves. 

So when Kieran had offered a movie night at his apartment you had jumped at the opportunity. On paper it was the perfect date idea for both of you. However what you did not account for was that both you and Kieran were exhausted from traveling, games, training and work. So when one movie had turned into a mini marathon both of you had fallen asleep on the couch, tangled together into a mess of limbs. 

You both woke up in the middle of the night looking at each other grinning at each other. Originally the plan had been for you to drive home after the movie but now was too late for that. Kieran had suggested you just sleep at here, he even offered to take the couch while you enjoyed the comfort of his big bed. You had called him a muppet for even thinking that you didn’t want to spend the night tucked safely in his arms, breathing in his scent, wearing one of his old t-shirts,

——————————————————————————————————

When you woke up the early morning sun filled the room with a pale light, making everything seem quiet and peaceful. You opened your eyes letting them adjust to the light. The room around you was quiet, filled only with the hum of distant traffic mixed with the slow and steady breaths of the sleeping man next to you. 

You watched as his sculpted chest rose rhythmically, his lips slightly ajar. You could lay here and watch him sleep forever, you thought. You wanted to spend eternity studying the way his rosy cheeks faded into the pale skin of his cheekbones. Your hand twitched at the urge to run your fingertips along the porcelain like skin draped over his boyish features. You bit your lip, holding your breath, when his eyes fluttered under his closed lids for a second, worried he would wake up and catch you staring, but much to your delight he did not stir awake instead letting out a content hum. A sigh of bliss escaped your lips at the chance to spend just a little while longer admiring your sleeping boyfriend. You wanted to savour each inch of his body, meticulously filing away each inch of Kieran in your memory. You wanted to be able to recall each freckle and every mole that covered his body even when the two of you were apart. To trace them like consolations in your mind whenever you couldn’t manage to fall asleep and counting sheep seemed redundant. You wanted to map out the way his slender fingers fell on to the blanket, how his arms bled into those strong shoulders, how the muscles that shaped his chest moved with each breath. 

You allowed yourself the luxury to get lost in the way his hair was a mess atop his head, loose strands falling against his forehead, framing his brow perfectly. He would probably say he needed a haircut, but all you thought he needed in this moment was your fingers tangled in his locks. 

He looked like a statue that may belong in the Louvre or Vatican museum. Perfectly still and breathtakingly beautiful, most certainly crafted by the hands of the most talented artist on the globe. The only thing indicating he was not cut from marble, shaped specially for you was the boyish pink of his cheeks and lips. His lips. They looked much like a juicy peach would, sweet and delectable on a hot summer day.  

All you wanted in this moment was to hold his perfect statuesque face and taste those lips. To kiss him till you were both breathless, for the only sound filling the room to be both of you gasping for breath, grinning like idiots. However you did not want to wake him, to disturb the beautiful sight of his serene state. To intrude on something as celestial and pure as this moment, seeing him illuminated by the morning sun, much like if he was some mystical being sent to walk amongst the living. 

You shifted closer to him, trying your best to not disturb him, wanting to soak up the warmth his beauty was emitting, your faces inches apart. His breath hitting your body, creating the familiar tingle of goosebumps appearing wherever it hit your skin. You would only need to move a millimetre to connect your lips. To taste him, let him fill you with a sense of life and belonging. But instead your eyes scanned the way his lashes curled, the way his nose curved, the way his perfect lips curved.

“I swear if you don’t do it I will” Kieran’s scratchy morning voice sapped you out of your trance making your cheeks burn with embarrassment. His eyes were still closed as a lazy smile danced on his lips.  

You didn’t reply, not trusting your brain to form a sentence in your embarrassed state. 

“Well?” He asked opening his eyes, rising an eyebrow.

The moment your eyes met his you could swear you were a goner. You felt like you had died and gone straight to heaven. You were usually weak in the knees for his glance, but something about the way he looked at the moment, innocent and pure, the softness of sleep still evident in his hazel eyes, made you lose any ability to think. Maybe it had something to do with the way he looked at you like you were the only person in the world, like you had hung the stars in the sky. You wanted to wake up to this every single day for the rest of your life.

You opened your mouth but no words came out, making Kieran chuckle. He leaned forward connecting your lips. Your hands instantly cupped his jaw as you felt a grin spread against your lips. You felt like the world around the two of you disappeared and this moment of pure bliss would never end. The way his lips lazily moved against yours, with no rush making your heart skip a beat. And at that moment, in the privacy of Kieran’s bedroom you knew there was no way back. You had fallen in love and there was nothing in the world that could change that. 

[callsigncrash]

Ok so, I thought on something weird but I thought it was interesting

So, remember that mirrorwing hc's I asked before and such? I just remembered that and how sometimes I rlly want to have the haircut of certain people and characters I like and imagined how it'd be for me to Have their haircut

So, to the ask, how would Yamori, Naki and whoever else you like and want to write about would react to meeting someone and some days/weeks after knowing them(or after getting into a relationship with them) the person just appears having the same haircut and/or haircolor as them? Idk I just think it sounded nice, like, having the same haircut as Yamori or haircolor and knowing how to style it and maybe do it for him when he let's me and such

Anygays! Have a great cycle of 24 hours! ^^

Matching Hair HCs

I always wonder if Yamori has a hair gel budget with how his hair is. Thank you for the ask as always! ❤️

________________________________________________

Yamori

What happened to your hair?

Oh. Ok, cool.

He probably won’t share his hair gel so expect to have your own container of it.

He sometimes needs help with the spikes in his hair so if you’re not opposed, he’d appreciate the help.

He will do the same if you’d like.

If you need help with bleaching your hair then he’s your guy! There will be no fried hair here.

He likes that you can look matchy.

As a gesture of good faith, if you want to do his hair a certain way then he’ll let you do it.

There’s a level of intimacy that comes with helping him out like this so consider this another big step in your relationship.

He knows Naki will get at least a little jealous so be prepared to deal with comments directed at the both of you for a day or two before he disregards it completely.

Naki

Your hair looks different!

Wait…It looks like his!

He’s so flattered that he almost cries.

He wants you to brush his hair and then he’ll brush yours. It almost looks like you’re having a stereotypical slumber party.

He wants you to style his hair. He not only trusts you to do something good with it but he also loves that you’ll be touching him.

He will comb his hands through your hair a lot. Not that he didn’t before but now it’ll become something he does whenever he can.

I feel like he’s one of those people who likes a lot of barrettes so if you’ll let him, he’d love to put some in your hair.

He loves when you help him out with his hair. Sometimes he fumbles the bag and just has a bad hair day so when he needs it to be fixed and slick, he gets you.

He thinks your hair looks the best, especially compared to some of the people in the organization who try to copy his hair specifically.

This is what he considers to be peak “Couple’s Goals”.

[enbyjane]

@wardrobemoments (tagging you because I know you like this sort of things but anybody is welcome to join the conversation)

I have a few theories in regards to Lisbon's hairstyles across the seasons.

I was looking at a few GIFs and I was wondering.

How come that Lisbon changes her hairstyle so much? Like, a different hairstyle every season? Or actually, multiple slightly different hairstyles every season?

It's true that the show spans over 5-6 years, but it's still a lot if you ask me. I've had mostly the same hairstyle for 3 years now and aside from a few minor changes, it's stayed the same. For comparison we also have Grace, who has the same style all thorough the show except for 6x09 and all thorough the end when she decides to get bangs. (More or less. She alternates between straight hair and curls but that's it)

And I started to think of it both from the watsonian (in character) and the doylian (in show) interpretation. Mostly because it's funny to think of Teresa Lisbon at a hair stylist every year, asking for a new hair style a new fic idea is cooking up oh no

(Putting this under a read more because this is getting longer than I intended.)

The watsonian interpretation would be that Grace is more of a...conformist. She finds something that she likes and she sticks with it and it's fine for her.

By contrast, I don't mean that Lisbon is an undecided person, but rather that this is her way of rebelling. She is the one that often has to enforce the rules all thorough her life. And I don't think she minds too much, but there's still a part of her that is wilder and wants, like Jane, to say fuck the rules and fuck conformity. (Although it's not like she goes Too Wild, like...spikes or shaved head or stuff like that. At most we have the Bisexual Haircut in S1). Or perhaps it's a way that shows that she doesn't like routine, she needs some variation in her life (proven by those years between 608 and 609 where she worked as chief deputy in a normal police station or whatever she was)

The doylian interpretation is the one that intrigues me. Does the hairstyle change so much because Robin is one of the main leads? (Moreso than Amanda). Is it because she's insanely gorgeous and we deserve to see her in many styles and thirst over her? Can there be an association between this small detail and character development across the show?

And I started to think about it. I found this brilliant post having most if of her hairstyles.

(and I'll add a particular hairstyle that isn't here that I'm dying for)

What if there's a connection between her emotional availability in which season?

At the start of the show she has pretty open hairstyles, wilder hair and no bangs. She starts wearing bangs (and straight hair) regularly after Bosco's death. (Correct me if I'm wrong) and she wears the bangs consistently. As far as I can see, she starts letting go of them in season 5. (After Jane tells her he loves her). Towards the end of S4, she has...sidebangs, her forehead is less covered compared to the previous eps.

In parallel, there is a flirty energy between Jane and Lisbo in Season 1. (Or at least a willingness for intimacy) There is much less of this energy once Bosco dies (And the bangs appear). Sure, there are still some scenes (almost-confessions and little shows of jealousy), but they're more Jane-directed-towards-Lisbon than the reverse. She has a one night stand with Mashburn but that's all it is. She's really more open towards Jane at the end of S4, asking him to let her help him (and having her forehead pretty clear in the last 2 episodes, only a sidebang). And then...I think in S5 it's the season that she's fully aware that she's in love with Jane and accepting it (ergo, no more bangs).

I don't know if this analysis stands on its legs at all, but I am curious to hear your thoughts on it.

[xxiv-iv]

How do I stay away?

Cold rainy night

After a couple of beers

Confessions from the heart

Feelings I had never thought of

A lot of feelings in my heart

It drops down to my stomach

The melting of my heart when you hold my hand

When your leg touches mine

When I see you after a haircut

Every time I see you, I want to be around you

I want your attention

Your smile

Your embrace

Your smell

There's something special about you

I think it's how free I am when I'm with you

The long nights of conversation

The time spent being honest with each other

Being raw and genuine

I didn't know what intimacy was up until I spent time with you

It's not about being naked and free

It's about speaking about anything to each other

With no judgment

It's about sitting in silence and not being weird

It's about laughing when our glasses bump into each other when we're on a motorcycle ride back home

You lay your head on my shoulder

I stare up into the sky filled with stars

I'm grateful at this moment

The feeling I had, not a lot get to experience

You just held my waist and I felt it in my heart

I don't know how to stay away from you

I don't know how to ignore these feelings I have

I don't know how to kill these feelings I have for my best friend.

[shamelessrabbithole]

The looks thing you mentioned sounded so interesting that I’m coming out of anon to share some ideas without the word limit I keep fighting with while on mobile (I think I’m using the post option instead of the ask, please bear with me, I’m sorry, it was meant to be an ask). Also, hi! I’ve asked a lot of questions here and I greatly enjoy reading you :) I struggled with the parasocial feelings for a while too and this blog felt like a hug! In many ways!

So back to my point: “The same can be said for his sense of style. It’s devolved significantly, in that he used to be a very sharply dressed” (and the rest of the quote).

I have only followed him casually from mid 2023 up to now so I don’t know him that much but I’ve kind of developed a theory due to these more recent radical? look changes? I’m refering to the longer straightened up hair (sometimes very messy and unkept), then the moustache, the mullet… Also other minor decisions like not darkening his eyelashes and eyebrows, those small details. It sounds weird but it felt like he either didn’t care much about his looks (don’t wanna assume but sometimes due to not being in our best mental state, we stop caring a bit about our appearances or we simply can’t). Or he’s not specially trying to make himself look “handsome”, like what anyone would consider that way (more groomed, fresh haircut, etc). I thought that maybe he was walking away from potential love interests roles, trying to push them away? But the only proper love interests roles I’ve seen him in (love interest as the typical handsome guy who gets the girl at the end) were when he was younger. Like his Disney stuff. You mentioned earlier than the Cal Kestis plot also has a romantic twist but I’m only considering movies or series in the most traditional sense. Maybe he dislikes that category or feels like it limits/limited him? I know he did Shattered (never watched it) and other movies with romantic sub plot but he still… doesn’t fit what I’d call the romantic main lead. Now on Foxbody there’s a relationship, a kiss scene and whatever that requires an intimacy coordinator… But he wrote that. So it’s on his terms. He can write himself to be the man he wants to portray.

tl;dr I think he tried to leave the pretty boy appeal behind (pretty as in S1 Ian Gallagher). Now I see his latest portraits of himself (taken by himself -like the pool one- or like the one from the archival yesterday on his stories) and it feels very not sensual. Ofc portraits can have different themes but idk the photographies he takes of girls are very very sensual but he seems like an almost asexual being right now from the vibes he gives me, as opposed to the photoshoot with Peyton that screamed -yes, we fuck. So maybe he’s de- sexualizing his image as an actor? No more fuckboy Cam like the sauna pics. Even the summer daze picture is very tame. The latest skin show we got was that Scotland shirtless picture right? That’s my hypothesis. Maybe I’m speaking BS, feel free to tell me that too XD

Or maybe he’s just a guy who needs a stylist - one of my favorite tag of yours.

_______________

Well, first of all, thank you for saying that the blog is like a hug. I really appreciate that. It’s so kind of you and I’m glad it helps you cope.

The asexual aspect of Cam is something I’ve also noticed, but I’ve been speaking to it for months as celibacy. Where he once used to drip with sex appeal (in my eyes), he’s often replaced it with what some anons have called “gay bestie vibes.” Now that he’s doing the play, his sex appeal has taken a hit yet again and he reads like a somber fifties dad. Where did all of his natural magnetism go? (I’ll concede that he looks pretty hot in the Foxbody trailer, but I’ll reserve judgement about his love scene until we see it in its entirety.) You mentioned his photography and I find it all rather unsexy as well. 

Anyway, he was single for so long prior to Madison, that I frequently racked my brain wondering how a man in his position got laid while keeping it casual. How the women he did sleep with managed not to fall in love with him, etc. It was a hot topic of conversation on here, always. Declining sense of style aside, he’s still very capable of having sex whenever and wherever, so was it just limited to romps overseas with people like Emily and Vivi? We never got those answers.

Now that we’re in a new era, that leads me back to Madison who, for all her comfort with nudity and very close dance partnering with men, doesn’t seem sexual either. It’s probably why she and Cam seemed like friends for so long and maybe some people are still convinced that that’s all they are. I definitely understand your reasoning, that he’s shedding the pretty-boy appeal deliberately, but the question is—why? Why do that in Hollywood, where looking your best helps ensure the longevity of your career. And if a role ever calls for a “roughening up” of those looks, makeup artists are more than up for the task of turning beautiful people into goblins. 😂 

It’s more of what makes him so enigmatic to me, because I’m so incapable of getting into his head and trying to understand life from his point of view. Is he just an oddball or is he extremely calculated in every move he makes? Is he evolving more into his authentic self or stepping further away from it, and if he is, is that deliberate or out of his control? The questions never end!

[moffnat]

This game is so much worse than I ever thought possible.

The Good:

Environments are gorgeous. Graphically sound.

Good music. Love the homages to Trespasser, which had one of my favorite tracks in DA history.

Fun combat with a learning curve. Makes you want to try different builds.

Basically everything that did not require a writer is well-done.

I'd like to give a special shout-out to Davrin and Emmerich's writers. Congratulations, you two had the only well-fleshed romances and wonderfully-written characters in the whole game. (Aside from Solas, who is always a delight, but he has maybe 10 minutes of screen time so it's hard to count him.)

I'd also like to give a shoutout to Taash's VA, who did not deserve the hand they were dealt. You're amazing.

I also love female Rook's VA, the European one. Love hearing an accent that isn't just British in my main character. It gave the character a lot more personality. (If only this game deserved it!)

The Bad:

Act 2 has more holes in it than a tryptophobe's nightmare.

Taash. Jesus Christ. I don't need to say anything about them, just watch this video and then try to defend this character to me.

Bellara's whole character arc was boiled down to dealing with a brother who wanted to "make the elves great again." Come on, can you not give me something more original and lore-friendly? Does everything have to be about how religion is fake and genocide is bad and fascism sucks and BLOOD RITUALS, oh my god, the blood rituals. This is a fucking fantasy game. Take us into a fantasy, not a thinly veiled, poor excuse for writing choices that are clearly you processing your own trauma of real world problems.

None of your decisions from past games matter. I felt more emotion at finding the Joining Chalice from Origins in this game than any other part of the entire fucking game. OG Bioware let players craft their own unique story in this world they created and Veilguard said, "nah, doesn't matter." It does matter.

NO mention of the Hero of Ferelden during this new weird Blight? NO mention of who's ruling Denerim? NO mention of Hawke? In the fucking Fade?

They disrespected Dorian with the most homophobic haircut imaginable.

The Ugly:

Where the fuck is the romance? I've just started act 3 and I've had one, ONE, single romance scene with Harding who is supposed to be my girlfriend. The writers straight up lied on Twitter when they said they consulted intimacy experts. What did you call them for, a free 5 minutes? An exchange of two emails tops? A brief convo at a vegan no-cops-or-military-allowed cafe?

Isabela making a faction that hoards treasure but "makes sure to give cultural artifacts back to their people for a finder's fee" is the most laughable thing I've ever heard. Isabela? The one who fucked over the Qunari and Kirkwall? That Isabela? You deflated her tits AND her personality and that's two steps too far.

I can't believe OG Bioware spent over a decade building the mage/templar dilemma only for Veilguard to say "sorry, too problematic."

The trans representation is disastrous to the point of actually doing damage. Again, I'll let this video take the stage. I fully agree with it.

The Grey Wardens are your military equivalent in this game and they were not given military treatment. I mean to say -- suffering the massive, gutting losses they suffer, and Bioware chose not to go into PTSD, survivor's guilt, the (a)morality of aggressive recruitment, side effects of being trained for war, the immense brother/sisterhood that goes into it, or suffering with loss and violence. NO one paid any due respect to the Wardens after what they went though! (But we all know the military is too problematic of a topic for these inadequate writers. God forbid they speak to someone they disagree with or do any research ever.)

This is not dark fantasy. This is not Dragon Age. This is not moral dilemmas or beautiful characters or violence and tragedy. This was a game written for the whitest, brattiest tenderqueers on Twitter dot com who bitch about how the media they consume isn't good enough for their purity cult.

The only thing Veilguard has left me with is a desire to replay older DA games to remind myself what good storytelling feels like.

finally starting veilguard, wish me luck

[housewarningparty]

7 for LiS, ship of your choice.

god i went through like 3 drafts of this bc i’ve got a lot to say about trust as a theme in my lis ships, i guess. in the interest of finishing something in one sitting, i went w something simple.

“Just trust me,” Chloe says, fingers brushing the underside of Max’s wrist as she withdraws her grip.

“I’m just,” Max can keep the tremble out of her hands (for now) but not quite her voice. She cuts herself off with a sharp breath, counts a beat in her head, then two, then three and let’s herself continue, steadier. “I don’t wanna mess up. Or-or hurt you...”

“You won’t. Max, this isn’t, like, my first time.”

“It’s not?” This is news to Max, who had never exactly pictured Chloe having done this, like, a lot.

“No. I mean, the first time, I did it myself. And then, later, Rachel...”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, I’ll show you pictures later. But, like, point is, you can totally do this.”

“Yeah, Max,” Rachel pipes up through a mouthful of smoke someplace behind them. Max twists around to see her sprawled languidly on the floor, one hand propping up her head, the other holding a joint to her lips. She smiles that lazy, hungry smile that turns Max’s stomach to butterflies, and nods toward them. “I already got her like, 90% of the way there. You just need to finish her off.”

At this, Max blushes again, all the way up to her ears and turns back to Chloe, who flashes her a grin.

It’s not like Rachel watching makes this any easier. Especially not now, not knowing that she and Chloe have already done this before. That Rachel and Chloe are both going to be able to tell if she’s doing it wrong, if she fucks it up.

“Max,” Chloe says, voice low, pitched just for her.

When she meets Chloe’s eyes this time, they’re bright and full of love, that sharp twist of her mouth has faded to something gentler, more tender. 

“Look, you don’t have to,” Chloe says, soft and Max knows she means it. ”I didn’t think it’d freak you out and--”

“No, it’s okay,” Max says, tightening her grip on the handle of the device, adjusting the angle of her hand. She slides the power button on with her thumb and the buzzing in her hand matches the buzzing of her nerves. But Rachel’s eyes on her back are warm and confident. And Chloe’s shoulder under the palm of her other hand is familiar, a little sweat-damp, totally relaxed.

The first pass of the clippers shears off a wide swath of light brown hair. Logically, Max knew this would happen, but she can’t help the way she yelps and jumps back a little.

Chloe laughs and swipes an arm out behind her until she grabs first Max’s ass, then her hip, and drags her back closer. “Max, relax, it’s literally impossible to fuck up a buzz cut.”

“You say that, but what if I’m the first?” Max mutters, letting out a deep sigh and gamely sliding closer to Chloe, who squeezes her hip again in response. “Stop squirming.”

“Stop sliding away from me,” Chloe says, still facing away but Max can hear the pout in her voice.

“Shut up,” Max says, leaning her whole body into Chloe’s back, taking momentary advantage of her height advantage while Chloe sits on a stool in her backyard, to press a wet kiss to the side of Chloe’s head.

It relaxes them both. Chloe settles back into her seat, hands folded obediently in her lap and Max resumes her work the the clippers, more prepared for the results on her next pass.

It’s nice out, still early enough to not be too hot, but late enough for the neighborhood to feel alive. There’s birds chirping, and, down the street, the sound of kids playing in their yards, the distant spurt of lawn sprinklers, and the low hum of calm traffic.

The world gets smaller. Just this backyard that she spent half her childhood in. Just Rachel on a beach towel on the concrete behind them, sunning herself and humming along to a Jane’s Addiction song on the radio. Just the clippers in her hand, Chloe’s head rolling pliantly on her neck when Max tips her this way and that with the gentlest suggestion of her fingers. The bead of sweat that rolls down the side of her neck that Max surprises herself by wanting to lean forward and catch with her tongue. 

It doesn’t take all that long before she’s done. Rachel had done the work of cutting Chloe’s hair short with scissors before passing the clippers to Max and asking her to finish the job. Max slides the power off on the clippers and finds herself almost disappointed to end the peaceful limbo they’d drifted into. Feels herself suddenly sentimental about the surprising tenderness of the moment, this new way for Chloe to put herself into Max’s hands and say: I’m yours, I know you’ll take care of me.

Max sets the clippers down, grabs a clean washrag from the pile they’d brought out and tips about half of her water bottle onto it. She doesn’t rush, dragging the wet terry cloth across Chloe’s scalp and neck, cleaning up the stray hairs that have fallen.

Chloe shivers and makes that little sound in her throat that Max loves, that one that’s almost like a purr, leaning back into Max’s touch. “Feels good.”

And this time Max doesn’t stop herself, drapes the washrag over Chloe’s shoulder and leans forward, wraps her arms around Chloe’s front and dips her head to kiss Chloe’s neck, her jaw.

Chloe’s hand immediately cups the back of Max’s head, weaving fingers through her hair, tugging just a little. Encouraging.

And it’s an awkward angle but Max pulls back, tilts Chloe’s face to hers and meets her halfway.

Chloe’s kiss is bright, brilliant sunlight. It’s summer, warm and open, on Max’s lips and under the pads of her fingers.

It’s the smell of chlorine and fresh cut grass and the buzz of hair clippers and the chime of a distant ice cream truck and waves of heat rolling off the pavement and days so long and wide open they feel endless.

Max pulls back, lets Chloe swivel in place until she’s dragging Max down into her lap, kissing the laughter right out of her mouth. Max runs her hands through the short prickly hair along Chloe’s scalp. “Wow.”

“Wow,” Chloe grins, kissing her again, hungry.

“I did that,” Max murmurs, fascinated with the sensation of Chloe’s shorn hair against the skin of her palms. “I can see your ears.”

She drags her fingers down the shell of Chloe’s ear, to toy with the lobes gently, delighting in Chloe’s answering shiver, the renewed eagerness of her kiss at the sensation.

“Not so bad, huh?” Chloe mumbles into Max’s mouth and then pulls back to grin again. “How do I look?”

“Not bad at all,” Max agrees, cupping Chloe’s head again. “You look good, Chloe. Beautiful.”

There’s something shyer, sweeter in Chloe’s next kiss. Max is grateful to receive it, teases it out gently between them. The sun beats down, rays falling into them, and Max knows that together under skies like these they will grow and grow and grow.

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

My dearest bouncey! I have a prompt for you if you like: Witchers as a 90s/2000s boyband 😂🤷‍♀️💖💖💖

Ellie, darling, this started as 500 words and turned into like 3.2k words and also a piece of art so... thank you so much. also shout out to my amazing art pal @mawbwehownets for the little comic!!

this contains lots of 90′s/early 2000′s nostalgia so there is also that

tw: hornyish, smooching, perilous music video situations (corny)

---

“Do I have to?” Geralt groans, letting his forehead thud down against the linoleum surface of their tour bus’s shitty dining table.

“Yes,” Vesemir says. His tone leaves no room for argument or whining. “But what if I let you pick the winner personally?”

“There have to be like fifteen thousand letters to go through! How will I manage that in less than two days?”

“There were a few more than fifteen thousand applications, Geralt. There were probably closer to five hundred thousand.”

Lambert wolf whistles and Aiden claps.

Geralt grimaces and keeps his face hidden against the table, releasing a slightly muffled: “Fuck.”

“Language,” Vesemir frowns. He tugs gently at Geralt’s loose ponytail and the singer lifts his head up from the table again, looking at his manager with beseeching eyes. “Anyway, we’ve narrowed it down to about fifty. You can go through those and choose whichever person you’d like to play your love interest. But you have to give me an answer by Friday. The shoot is in three weeks and whoever wins this stupid competition will need time to make arrangements.”

“I thought we were footing the bill for their food and their hotel room,” Geralt raised an eyebrow. “What would they need to arrange?”

“Not everyone can board their pets at the flick of a wrist, dude,” Lambert scoffs from his seat on the couch. Aiden lies draped across his lap, as usual, and the two of them are halfheartedly watching The Lion King. They can only watch movies when the bus is stationary, otherwise the VHS player might move too much while running and damage the film inside the cassette. Even taking advantage of such a rare opportunity, Lambert and Aiden still seem more interested in each other than Jonathan Taylor Thomas’s voice acting. 

“Lambert has a point,” Vesemir sighs. He scrubs his hand over his lightly whiskered face like a tired grandparent and sighs again, more heavily. “It’ll be good for you boys to have a normal person around for a few days. Maybe they’ll be able to put some things into perspective.”

Geralt can only roll his eyes a little bit and thank his manager regardless of his own feelings; he and the rest of TW5 owe the seasoned musical expert their entire careers. Without Vesemir’s help and mentorship they would never have made it past their first disastrous record deal. They certainly wouldn’t have reached the heights they’re at now, enjoying international fame and recognition. 

The begrudging frontman accepts a heavy plastic bin of file folders from Vesemir and sets them down next to his bunk. “Are these organized in any particular way?”

“Nope.”

“Cool.”

Geralt digs his hand into the pile and pulls out a piece of pale-pink stationary, eager to get started and, by extension, get finished. He can already tell that it’s going to be a long couple of days.

---

“I want this one, please, Ves.”

“Huh?” Vesemir looks up from his palm-pilot. Geralt is standing in front of him and trying to hand him something. 

“I want this guy to be in the music video with me.” Geralt holds out the letter again, fingers trapping the accompanying polaroid headshot with great care. A pair of bright blue eyes stares up from the photo, highlighting the subject’s bright smile and unruly mop of messy brown hair. Vesemir tries to hide his amusement; totally Geralt’s type, if the big oaf could admit to having one.

“Alright. I’ll get everything in order. We start shooting in two and a half weeks so get your asses to the gym, please.”

“Yes, Ves,” all five young men chorus. 

“Tomorrow,” Coen mutters a moment later than everyone else, not glancing up from his composition notebook. Vesemir nods in understanding. Coen is the best lyricist of the lot and it’s easier to let him work when inspiration strikes than beg him to focus when he can’t get a solitary idea to stick.

“So why’d you pick that one, Ger-bear?” Lambert drawls. Aiden nods and leans against Lambert’s side. Geralt can’t help the mild jealousy that overtakes him every time he sees his bandmates touch each other with such casual affection. He wants that intimacy, that softness behind the veneer of famous indifference. He wants someone to hold. 

“Yeah. What drew your attention to that poor unfortunate soul. Was it the floppy hair, the big blue eyes, or the dopey grin?” Aiden smirks.

“Hmm.”

“Fuck you,” Eskel sighs, looking between the two troublemakers with the tired gaze of an eldest sibling, “Fuck you for even asking in the first place and expecting a straight answer.”

“Straight is the furthest thing from his answer,” Lambert chuckles. He is promptly smacked in the head with one of the couch’s hideous throw pillows. The youngest member of the band rubs the side of his face and chuckles, “Alright, I deserved that one.”

---

“Holy shit!” Jaskier practically screams. “Holy motherfucking shit!”

“What!?” Yennefer comes flying around the corner. “What’s wrong!?”

“Nothing is wrong, Yenna! Everything is awesome! Everything absolutely fucking rocks!”

“Did you get hit on the head by a falling branch between here and the mailbox or what? You were whining about your finals work not five min-”

“Look at this!” Jaskier shoves an open envelope into her hands and cuts her off. Yennefer reads the watermarked documents once. Twice. Her eyes almost pop out of her head when the words and their meanings finally sink in. 

“Are you fucking with me right now?”

“No, I am absolutely not!” her giddy roommate cheers, bouncing up and down in place. “I did it! I won!”

“Holy shit.”

“I know! I get to kiss Geralt deRiv!” he practically cackles. Then freezes. “Holy fuck I get to kiss Geralt deRiv.”

“You said that already,” Yen teases. She shoves the paperwork back into his hands and grabs a takeout menu from the junk drawer near her hip. “Since you won the makeout lottery, you get to buy lunch. Lucky bastard.”

---

“So this will be your dressing room,” someone’s underpaid PA says, ushering Jaskier into a small, bright room. “Priscilla will be here shortly to get you into hair and makeup.”

“Oh, uh- thanks!”

“Yup.”

And with that, the young man disappears back down the hallway toward the sound stage. Jaskier jogs his leg anxiously as he waits for Priscilla to arrive, nervous and otherwise totally alone in the huge grey building. As the minutes tick by and his heart rate rises, Jaskier’s intrusive thoughts make an unwanted appearance: What if they forget about me being here? What if there’s been a mistake and they accidentally hired two love interests and I just sit in here for hours all alone while-

“Hi!” a bright, peppy blonde woman flies through the door and startles him back to reality. “Nice to meet you, I’m Priscilla! You can call me Priss; I’ll be doing your hair and makeup for the video this week!”

“Oh… hi. I’m Julian, but I prefer Jaskier.”

“Lovely! Well, Jaskier, is your hair naturally this color?”

“Y-Yes?”

“Perfect! I don’t want to mess with such a lovely shade of natural brown, but do you mind if I give it a bit of a trim? I have a few ideas for styles right here in my book- How do you feel about some feathering back here? I think-” she fluffs a few of the hairs around the nape of Jaskier’s neck “-I could really bring out the curls if I adjusted the length a bit and used some product.”

“Just, uhm, go for it, then! Feel free to make me as pretty as possible!” Jaskier declares. He’s committing to this experience wholeheartedly, determined to allow himself every opportunity for positive change. He wants to really let himself enjoy it, and he needs a haircut anyway. Priscilla spends an hour washing, cutting, drying, and styling his hair into a lovely fringed sweep across his forehead. It ends just above his brows, giving his face a slightly softer shape than usual. He grins over his shoulder, “I love it! I’m going to miss you when I’m back at Oxenfurt. Good stylists are so hard to find.”

Priss blushes and nudges against his shoulder, “Oh, you little charmer.”

“I mean it,” he says, examining himself in the mirror. “I look like I could really be worthy of a heroic rescue! This is going to be such a fantastic memory, and I appreciate it. Thank you so much.”

Priss bites back a genuine tear and smiles, “Now that your natural prettiness has been mildly enhanced, let’s get you over to wardrobe, shall we?”

“Wardrobe? Do I have, like, a costume? What’s the music video even about?”

“They didn’t tell you any of this when you got here?”

“Not… not really.”

“Well, my darling, I think you’re really going to like it; they’ve got you in Versace for the first scene.”

“Versace!?” 

Then Jaskier is being ushered into a bright, colorful room full to bursting with grim-faced, middle-aged women and he loses track of his only braincell for the rest of the morning.

---

“You must be Julian!” Lambert declares, bounding up to him and grinning. It’s a feral, animalistic grin and Jaskier resists the sudden urge to take a step back.

“I prefer Jaskier, if you don’t mind too much,” Jaskier corrects him quietly. Lambert rolls his eyes in a long-suffering kind of way and throws a meaty arm around the shorter man’s shoulders, completely ignoring the wardrobe technician’s wincing as he wrinkles the expensive silk jacket. 

“No need to be quiet and polite around here, my dude. We’re just a bunch of rowdy idiots, aren’t we, guys?” 

“Hell yeah!” Aiden calls back. Eskel sighs like the put-upon nanny in a Victorian Redanian comedy. 

“Speak for yourself,” Coen barely lifts his frosted tips up from his book long enough to speak. Geralt is-

Holy motherfucking Britney Spears on toast.

Geralt is the hottest thing Jaskier has ever seen in his short, unfulfilled-until-right-now life. Forget Ralph Macchio. Forget Leonardo Dicaprio and Kate Winslet and Winona Ryder. This man is… Geralt deRiv is… he’s the picture of perfection. And he’s right there, standing in front of an elaborate party set with his thick, beautiful arms crossed over his chest and his eyes trained on the floor, as if willing it to swallow him whole. Jaskier realizes that he probably didn’t have any choice in the matter; maybe this was just as awkward and uncomfortable for Geralt as it was for Jaskier. 

“Ger-bear!” Lambert whoops, yanking Jaskier closer to the brooding frontman. If only he were brave enough to struggle for escape; alas. “This is your boy-toy for the week. Goes by Jaskier, apparently.”

“Nice to meet you,” Geralt manages to grunt. “How did you like the script?”

“I haven’t uh- I haven’t actually seen it?”

“Shit. Fuck. One second,” Geralt huffs, disappearing into the crowd of technicians and machinery operators and PAs. Jaskier loves him already, for real. Sure, he was pretty in the music videos and promo material, but the way he said fuck like it was the noblest word he could think of… Geralt interrupts his train of thought by coming back with a sheaf of papers clutched in his hand. He shuffle-shoves them into Jaskier’s arms immediately. “There you go.”

“Thank you!” Jaskier smiles. It’s genuine and shy, more tenuous than his usual goofy grin. He flips through the pages, glancing between the script to his expensive suit, “So I’m guessing we’re at a party for this scene? Or something?”

“This is… where we meet. This is where… you and I uh…”

Jaskier’s eyes scan the page as Geralt’s ability to speak slowly leaves him. 

Lover ENTERS LEFT, dressed to the nines. Lover adjusts their tie/boa and takes a look around the room. S/He looks sad and a little hopeful. PULL BACK to Geralt, who approaches slowly. Their eyes meet. HOLD SHOT. PULL BACK as they move towards each other. Geralt pulls Lover into his arms and they begin to dance.

“Oh, wow.”

“I hope it’s okay! If you’re not comfortable with that kind of thing we can-”

“I’ll be alright, thank you. I came here to put my acting chops to the test. Well, that and meet my favorite band, of course. Thank you again, by the way. It’s been wonderful so far and I really appreciate you allowing me to be here.”

“Allowing? Psh. Geralt ha-” Lambert is cut off by Aiden, who elbows him sharply in the side. “Ow! What the fuck, babe?”

“I knew it!” Jaskier crows, distracted. “I knew you two were an item!”

“They’re not exactly subtle.”

“They never confirm anything either,” Jaskier retorts. Geralt shrugs his acknowledgement and moves back towards the set. Jaskier follows after the taller man like a lost puppy, eyes flicking from one thing to the next, hungry for detail even in his anxiety ridden state. This is a once-in-a-lifetime experience and he doesn’t want to waste a solitary second of it. “This is incredible, really just...wow. You guys do this all the time? You get to make tiny little movies for already great songs that you get to perform for millions of adoring fans? And you get paid!?”

Geralt hadn’t ever really thought about it like that. He’d been raised in the industry. He’d signed to Kaer Morhen Records as an early teen because his mother was a member of the Board of Directors and he’d been making music ever since; an outsider’s perspective to things was… new. A little strange. “Yeah, I guess that is pretty much what we do.”

“Wow.”

“It’s not that exciting, I promise.”

“Have you ever written a fifteen page paper about the history of lute-string design and manufacturing?” 

“No.”

“Then kindly shut the fuck up about what I should consider exciting,” Jaskier grins. Geralt is immediately and irrevocably smitten. Fuck. It hasn’t even been fifteen minutes! “So, which door am I entering from?”

“Left,” Geralt points. Jaskier skips over and begins to introduce himself to the sound and lights crew. His smile seems to be as infectious as his cheer and soon the entire set crew is smiling at one another. There’s been a literal shift in the atmosphere; if he didn’t know any better, the TW5 frontman thinks Jaskier might be some kind of magical creature, because he can’t just be human. Geralt is well and truly fucked, and everyone in the band already knows.

---

“What do you think?” Jaskier asks, slipping anxiously from behind the changing screen. The Versace is gone and in its place are a pair of tight, high-waisted blue pleather pants and a billowing white shirt, which has been strategically ripped in several places to reveal slivers of the lightly tanned skin that lies beneath. He looks like he’s in desperate need of rescuing. He looks like every fantasy Geralt has ever had about the perfect guy. He looks like a fucking dream.

“Nice,” he says.

Lambert and Aiden wolf-whistle and cheer as they approach. Aiden claps twice, loudly, and shoots Jaskier a set of finger guns, “Hot damn, baby. You single? You lookin’ to mingle? Because I am bi and spoon like a Pringle.”

“First of all, babe, I love you but that was the most horrific combination of words yet known to man. Second of all, yeah, I’d dump Aiden for you for sure,” Lambert adds. Jaskier is at a total loss for words. His mouth hangs open and his breath comes in uneven little gasps for a moment.

“Uh… I- Thank you?”

“Oh god, Eskel! Eskel, he’s short circuiting, do something.”

“You absolute-” Eskel groans and makes his way over to the gathered group. He tugs Jaskier away and over to the other end of the set, where a comically huge rocket/bomb (Jaskier can’t tell) is standing at the center of a vaguely science-themed room. A laboratory, maybe? Or like, a really weird spacecraft? A hospital run by rocket scientists? It doesn’t matter, it’s the Evil Lair of the Villain and that’s where Jaskier is being held captive. “Here, Cameron and Elise will help you get set up for the next scene. I’m sorry about the boys they’re... gay?”

“I understand,” Jaskier nods sagely and Eskel relaxes. Then for comedy’s sake he adds an equally dramatic, “I too am... gay.”

The set dresser, an electrician, and a few specialists (likely a rope rigger among them) come over and tie Jaskier to the bomb/rocket/villainous mechanism, ending his conversation with Eskel, who is now in a much better mood than he was before. 

Jaskier is told to make sure his hands are crossed behind the small of his back and the director instructs him to wiggle back and forth “as convincingly as possible without actually getting loose or moving the ropes too much”. Which is manageable, he supposes. 

“Then, when the chorus comes up, we’ll get a few shots of the boys dancing in front of you,” the director continues to explain. That’s… kind weird, but okay. I’ve seen weirder. “Then we’ll do the action shots, with Geralt rescuing you. Are you okay to do the kiss, or would you rather not? We have dynamic shots with or without, so it’s totally up to you.”

“I’m fine with that,” Jaskier smiles shyly. “I consent to be smooched.”

“Adorable,” Lambert calls. Jaskier blushes and the director shoots Lambert a glare. 

“He’s already pink enough, don’t make me change my gels you little shithead!”

“Sorry, Pierre!”

“Fucking sorry my ass,” Pierre grumbles beneath his breath. Then he smiles at Jaskier. “Do something nasty to him for me, will you? Not too nasty but… just a little?”

“I’ve got your back,” Jaskier winks. 

“No plotting! Not fair!” Aiden whines.

“You have a team,” Pierre retorts. “Now I have a team.”

“Rules are rules,” Eskel sighs. “Now can we please shoot this damn video?”

“Right,” Pierre claps, getting everyone’s attention. “Places!”

---

Geralt races up the stairs, trying to keep the long sleeves of his black mesh shirt from catching on any of the set pieces. The solid black t-shirt he’s wearing underneath makes his arms and back look bulkier than normal; it’s a visual technique to make him look larger than Jaskier, whose billowing white shirt will hide how wide his shoulders actually are. Fuck, those are some nice shoulders. And the smattering of dark chest hair that peeks from the front of the college student’s shirt? Geralt wants to bury his face in it.

Okay, focus. 

He reaches the top of the set and rushes towards Jaskier, ripping the ropes from around his torso and pulling him close. He cups the back of Jaskier’s head with his upstage hand, framing the slightly smaller man for the camera and making him seem even shorter, another trick of angles and body posturing. Geralt plays Jaskier like an instrument, bending him back by placing his downstage arm around Jaskier’s waist, pressing their mouths together and holding them still for as long as it takes the director to yell, “Cut!” with a satisfied tone of voice. 

Geralt’s suspicions are confirmed when Pierre laughs and claps some more and cries, “Print it, lads! That was a one-take wonder!”

He tries to ignore the way Jaskier’s shoulders slump as if disappointed. “Good job,” he manages to say.

“You, too.” Geralt wishes he could keep a picture of Jaskier smiling in his back pocket forever. No other sight could light up the world so effortlessly. “Thanks for being gentle.”

“I’m trying to sweep you off your feet,” the singer shrugs. Jaskier wiggles his eyebrows and follows Geralt down the narrow set stairs.

“Are you, really?”

“Is it working?” Geralt asks, turning to look up at Jaskier. The student pauses to look at him and his foot catches on an uneven board. He topples forward with a short cry of surprise and seems surprised when Geralt reaches out to catch him. “Jaskier!”

“Oh my god!” Lambert races over, Aiden hot on his heels. “Are you okay, dude?”

“I’m fine,”  Jaskier laughs, a little breathless. “Just a little shocked.”

“You should take him to get a snack or something,” Eskel says, nudging his shoulder against Geralt’s. “He’s been busy all day and hasn’t even been to craft services.”

“You haven’t eaten?” Geralt asks, honestly baffled. Jaskier shakes his head, face heating once again. He wishes he could stop blushing, but Geralt’s presence seems to make it impossible. He wraps one arm around the younger man’s temptingly slender waist and leads him towards the food carts. He shoves a couple of sandwiches and a bottle of punch into Jaskier’s hands, not giving him a chance to argue. “Here, I’ll have something, too.”

“Thanks,” Jaskier smiles, understanding that he is, in turn, being understood. They sit comfortable folding chairs off to the side, food spread across their laps. Jaskier laughs and chats around his mouthfuls, pulling things from Geralt like his favorite color and his least favorite nicknames. Songs he liked and dances he disliked. 

“You made it fun again, today,” the singer smiles. “Thank you for that. I wish you could be here for every video shoot.”

“Looking for another member of the band?” Jaskier jokes, doing some half-hearted jazz hands. Geralt shakes his head and laughs. 

“I wish we were,” he sighs. “But I guess five is the magic number.”

“Makes the dances look cooler,” Jaskier nods. “I agree with whoever made that decision. I wouldn’t dare ruin the aesthetic.”

Geralt laughs again and Vesemir turns to look, honestly shocked at the volume of the sound. 

“Plus, you can’t be the frontman if there’s no front.”

“Shut up,” Geralt chuckles, still grinning broadly. 

Vesemir makes a phone call.

---

2 Weeks Later, Backstage in Kaedwen

---

“He’s been sulking like this ever since Jaskier went back to Oxenfurt,” Lambert whines. “C’mon Vesemir, do something.”

“What do you want me to do, make Geralt’s boyfriend appear out of thin air?”

“Not my boyfriend,” Geralt growls, stomping past his bandmates and manager. He can’t help but feel grumpy. Jaskier had been like the sun, bringing light and wonder to everything he touched, and without that joy around it doesn’t seem worth the extra effort to smile. So he’s been moping. 

“Fucking hell,” Vesemir sighs. “Thank goodness I thought ahead.”

“What do you mean?” Eskel asks, joining the little group in the hallway outside the dressing room. “What did you think of?”

“Three,” Vesemir smiles, glancing at his watch. “Two… One…”

“Boooooys,” echoes a high tenor. “Where’s my welcome wagon, Vesemir?”

“Jaskier!” Aiden practically screams, leaping out of the dressing room and flying down the hall. Lambert follows at a sprint and Vesemir hears the resounding oof oh fuck of both giddy musicians hitting their mark. 

Geralt comes back down the hall at a jog, eyes searching frantically. “I thought I heard-”

“Geralt!”

Vesemir’s heart clenches in his chest at the way Geralt’s face lights up. At the end of the hallway, surrounded by spilled luggage and apologetic boyband members, is Jaskier. Geralt floats to him, it seems, like he’s dreaming the whole thing. Jaskier takes his hands and then releases them and wraps his arms low around Geralt’s hips instead. 

“I missed you the most,” he whispers, just for Geralt to hear. “Couldn’t sleep without listening to your CD. I know it’s silly but I really like you.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt whispers reverently into his shaggy brown hair. “What are you doing here?”

“I was going to do my thesis on pop culture’s relation to music history,” he says. “And then the manager of TW5 called Oxenfurt and offered me the opportunity to do some… first hand research while I worked on finishing the paper.”

“R-Really? You’re going to be here… every day?”

“Do you… do you not want me he-”

Geralt kisses him before he can even finish the question. It’s a stupid question anyway, of course Geralt wants him here. Wants him right here, kissing him silly. The singer presses his lips desperately, crushingly against Jaskier’s; he never wants to part from this man again. He never wants to be without that glorious laughter and contagious liveliness. Who knew that life could be so full of delight and happiness if he only let it? 

He kisses Jaskier for all he’s worth and more, pouring his heart and soul into it. When they pull apart, both gasping for air, Geralt asks, “Stay with me, Jaskier? You don’t have to do anything I just-”

“I’d love to be the big spoon,” Jaskier winks, whispering again. “Thank you, Geralt, for the rescue.”