#i just cannot figure out how i want cosmos hair

[typheus]

anyways my arm isnt totally useless anymore 💚

[haveihitanerve]

I figured that I would actually provide the source material to the stuff im commenting on, so uh yeah, here ya go, more SFTH nonsense with my thoughts bc you guys actually seem to care and enjoy them strangely enough???

anyway yeah, you know the drill, dont care about my dumb little lizard brain squeals of joy, dont click the keep reading button bc its a lot lol :)

those of you who do(thanks) and continue!!!-

“One of you… is hosting a party…” Luke looking between them like ‘who tf is gonna move’ while AJ is literally already half out of his chair because he knows they’re gonna make him do it-(literally a quote from Tom[not verbatim but close] “we always make AJ guess, because he… has the most trouble with it, and thats a joy”)anyway-

Sam’s eyebrow raise at Tom across the stage

“Balding” whoever said that- i love you. Sam, of course, volunteers, he’ll never pass up an opportunity to rag on one of his besties and we love him for it

His grin, once again across stage, to Tom

“Vampire bugs bunny.” toms face- and Luke immediately pointing it out

“He can do Bugs Bunny, I cannot.” “you can do bugs bunny cant you” help the fact that they just know  all this ahhhhh <333333

“Oh shit, Which means I’m balding…” don't lie tom you cant wait to annoy AJ with this

“What do you want Luke to be?” Tom you evil evil genius

“This is for giving him balding-” don't act like its karma Tom this is all you ever wanted

“Someone who’s convinced he’s tall.” whoever said that, marry me- you're hilarious and clearly have good taste if you're at this show

Luke also laughing at the joke is a joy

Tom pacing as Luke takes control again, literally grinning giddily with excitement ugh they clearly love what they do so much and its so pure

Toms smile at “yay!” idk its just pretty

Aj idk what kind of accent this is but im loving it

But tf were those hand movements- are we wrapping presents? 

Ok even he broke at it, and sam was grinning- luke laughed, very nice

So im not a big bugs bunny person but even i can kinda catch on to what sams trying to do- very clever, im soooo many levels of curious to know if aj can guess it

“Carrot” !!!!!!he said CARROT!!!! YAY close

Tom crossing the stage to enter from the same door as Sam-honestly i cant with their stagecraft anymore help-

Also the doorbell is soooo much higher for tom than it was for sam- sams was at his chest, toms was above his head anyway

“Careful.” AJs glance up into the cosmos to figure out what tf that means and how its a hint

Toms doing great job of being insecure about his hair, loving it, and the audience is eating this up

“This guy sucks and i should know about that” AJ’s frozen face of fear because what is he trying to tell me, quick what does that mean- oh shit im screwed-

“Other front door.” yep! Theres the stagecraft comment- Tom dodged it quite obviously but Luke had to go for the joke

PFFFFFF oh wow Luke is doing a brilliant job of being tall, truly

“I was just looking in the mirror and I couldn't see him behind me.” oh i completely forgot about the vampire bit- thank you tom-

Also sam helping him out with the “ting!’ is great, we love to see them helping each other (for once lol)

“All of the characters of the looney tunes” oh aj so close

“Uh, the bunny one.” “oh please no!” XD NOOOO AJ!!! COME ON!!! I BELIEVE IN YOU!!!!!

Luke breaking as well for it is the best 

Aj having to turn to look at him like “why did you let him choose this character- idk who this is.” 

“..lots of creatures” Luke literally folds, as Sam does the classic disappointed covering his face with one hand and tom has to walk away, classic

The way they join behind AJ like moral support kills me-

“Oh no you're really annoying me you're really---*expectant waiting* [bugging me]” nope aj is lost “fuckin-” now sam has to walk away LMAOOO

TOM LITERALLY ALMOST WALKING OFF STAGE IS INSANE

“Its like surveillance” aj- please, im begging you- we’re all begging you- go. simple. 

“Its called they piss you off.” Luke walking to the front of the stage so that everyone can see his disappointed head hang is crazy

“BUGS!!!” LADIES AND GENTLEMEN HES DONE IT AGAIN!!!! 

Oh no… oh no, aj please- please get it- please

“Bugs bunny.” YEAH!!!! YES YAY WOOHOO!!! HES DONE IT!!!!

Tom finally getting his moment to bring up his excellent addition- “its so crazy, i couldn't see him behind me in the mirror.” also walking to the front of the stage, thats gonna be a pattern

SAM LITERALLY KISSING AJ ON HIS BALD HEAD OMG IM GONNA CRY OF CUTENESS WHATTTTTT

MY HEART

“Hey my bald friend over here,” yess!!! Two in one!!! Nice work!!!

“Thats  your quirk.” man has never been so insulted in his l i f e 

Tom shrugging in answer as AJ smiles in disbelief is amazing

“I've got a pretty good angle.” while looking at the floor is what gives me life luke never change

“Is it like me ten years ago?” luke and tom both breaking at that- also, side note, they've known each other ten years to bring it up casually and have witnessed aj balding- moving on

Tom literally having to hug AJ after he guesses right XD i adore these little fucks so much

“You are so buff right now man.” Aj confused as to if this is real or…??? “Ok-?” laughs. oh these ridiculous goobers

“Fat friend.” wrong- wrong direction dude- up, not sideways🤭 so close

“All through this” still looking down, gestures to the space above his head that does not have body as much as he would like it to be

Luke having a breakdown on stage about an issue that he genuinely gets ragged on so much for- im losing my mind omfg-

“Tiny giant.” luke losing it again- and i gotta say thats a pretty nice way to describe it, i think he gets the point

Tom leaned forward in anticipation, the cutest smile on his face, sam leaned back, trepidatious 

“Im really- Im not *moves to the front of the stage and yells at the audience* tiny okay???” lukes loosing it niow

“Its very funny isn't it?” oh no, hes pacing and breaking the fourth wall- oh no

“Cause hes tall-” Tom perking up, “oh look! Im being included back in the sketch!” “and hes a normal height!” AJ isn't even bothering to think anymore, just enjoying the show

“Hes only 5’10” yes!!! Call him out Luke!!!

“And yet somehow Im a fucking short guy!!!” i just love the other three dudes expression in this scene, just pure delight at Luke finally snapping(albeit jokingly) and being like ‘yeah… tough luck’

Also, love Luke casually including the people no longer in the sketch back into it just to make a point and call out his legitimate grievances, love it

“Im not short!” oh now hes back in it ok-

“I don't know if im talking to a character or luke right now-” Tom and Sam breaking before he even finishes the sentence lol

“I don't know either.” oh poor baby XD

“Luke,” genuinely starts to address him by his actual name, gods i love them- he was about to legitimately comfort him before sam came in- i know it(or insult him further but like wtv, same thing lol)

“Connnn-vict!” Luke trying to speak and then giving up- AJ!!! Vince! Not Vikt!!!

YAYYY!!!! HE DID IT!!!!!! 🥳🥳🥳

Anyway, hope you enjoyed this segment of me losing my mind about SFTH and their incredible bromance and also humor, thanks for tuning in, see you next time(maybe, if you guys still want it lol)!

@dawn-speckled you wanted it last time, hope you want it still??? anyway, thanks for reading, it means a lot, and byebye 👋

[pinqueen30]

Part 3

*meanwhile, somewhere at Dev*

Peri: Listen, maybe I can help?

Dev: No.

Peri: Why?

Dev: Because I can handle it myself. It's just homework

Peri: You look at one page for 20 minutes

Dev: Leave me alone

Peri: To be more precise, 23 minutes and 43 seconds

Dev: That's enough, I can handle it myself, I'm not stupid

Peri: I didn't say that. I'm saying you need help

Dev: No.

Peri: *sighed* We are walking in a vicious circle *turned around, saw someone coming into the room* Kiddo

Dev: I asked you not to distract me

Peri: Why do you have a doll version of Hazel in your room?

Dev: What? *turned around, looked where Peri pointed* It's not mine. Did you do that?

Peri: No, I wouldn't have asked you then

Dev: *came up, picked up the doll, turned it over* (in his mind) "It's just like a real one, and pretty cute... Wait, stop" *looked at Peri* How did she end up here?

Peri: *shrugged his shoulders*

Plush Hazel: You have such beautiful hands!

*Both of them turned their heads sharply towards the doll*

Peri: What? *stifled a chuckle*

Dev: Eh?

PH: And the eyes, oh, I just love your eyes! Especially when you're not wearing glasses or lenses. And when you don't gel your hair. I like your curls so much, they look like a cloud. You're actually very handsome. And you are so sweet, kind and funny! And you're also smart, and the way you get carried away and immerse yourself in different things as much as possible

Dev: Wh-what? *red*

Peri: So, of course, it's great that you decided to figure everything out, but still take it easy mini version of Hazel, he's going to suffocate now

PH: In fact, I like almost everything about you! I've been wanting to say it for a long time, but I was afraid it would ruin everything. I love y-

Hazel: *run into the room, gasping, all red* WAIT, NO! *Takes the doll away from the Dev, shuts her mouth* COSMO, WANDA, DEACTIVATE THE WISH, NOW!

*The doll disappears*

Hazel: How much did she say, Dev?

Dev: *very red, inarticulate sounds*

Hazel: Dev?

Peri: Kid, you have to breathe, otherwise you're going to die

Hazel: *turned to Peri* How much did she say?

Peri: Well, you interrupted her at the moment when she confessed to D-

Hazel: Understand *blushed very much*

*standing, silent*

Peri: You know, I'm probably not going to bother you, I'm going to talk to my parents... *flying away*

Hazel: *sighed* Dev, I... God, please forgive me for what happened, I thought everything would be different. Well, I mean, I didn't think *starts explaining and talking a lot*

*Dev doesn't hear her*

Dev: (in his mind) "SHELOVESMESHELOVESMESHELOVESME. So, Dev, calmly, you need to think rationally, don't panic. Calmly. Nothing serious happened, it's just Hazel, who we've liked for a very long time, confesses her love to you. She confesses her love to me. Hazel. Hazel loves me. Hazel loves me. Oh my God"

Hazel: And I think I like you, is it mutual?

Dev: (in his mind) "I have to answer something. Something cool and normal"

Hazel: Dev?

Dev: (in his mind) "Devin, you can't just stand there and say nothing. Answer anything!"

Hazel: Is everything okay? I understand this is unexpected-

Dev: Cool, thanks

Hazel: Huh?

Dev: (in his mind) "NOT THAT"

Peri: Dev... *handface*

Dev: What did I just say out loud? *blushed even more* No, that's not what I meant! I didn't want to say it! Forget what I said! Peri, erase the last 30 seconds, I should have said something cool and normal!

Peri: Nope

Dev: What does "nope" mean?! Peri, this moment cannot go down in history like this! It should be anything but not this! You don't tell the girl you like, "cool, thanks"

Hazel: Do you like me?

Dev: Of course, I do! How can I not like you? you're sweet, kind, funny, cheerful, you always forgive me, even though I'm acting like a jerk. I'm acting like this even now! It should have been different...*covered his face with his hand*

Hazel: Hey, it's okay, really! *took his other hand* Moreover, I embarras myself with this doll. I should have told you everything right away

Dev: You didn't embarrass yourself, everything is good! Really!

Hazel: Oh, thanks *chuckle* And besides, it all turned out quite original, don't you think? *smiled*

Dev: *looked at their hands, smiled back, nodded*

*Cosmo, Wanda and Peri look at them with smiles on their faces*

Cosmo: Ohhh, that's so sweet, first love

Wanda: I remember how you and I confessed to each other, it was like yesterday

Peri: Wait, no, let's have you with declarations of love a little later. And let's leave them alone, because it seems to me that we are clearly superfluous here

Wanda: You're right, they still have a lot to discuss

*Leave them alone*

[lanitalay]

One Day : Chapter 10

a/n: omg I'm sorry in advance. But lets celebrate that the series in done.

warnings: mentions of death, angst?

word count: 800

Other Chapters

In all of your years of knowing each other, Azriel never forgot your anniversary. Each year (except for the fifty that Amarantha ruled) he made it a point to bring you flowers. This one was no different. Some years he gave you your favorite flowers from the market, other years he gave you extravagant bouquets from an artisanal shop, but you always felt extra special when he would pick them himself. It couldn’t happen every year, but whenever he saw a field of wildflowers he would make a mental note. 

He landed on a patch of green sprinkled with vibrant colors. There were daisies and cosmos and snapdragons and so many others he could not name. Azriel picked whichever caught his eye, only the most pristine made the final arrangement. When he was satisfied, he took out a piece of twine and tied them all together. 

When he’s in front of you, that familiar wave of longing spreads through his chest. He takes a breath and kneels on the newly sprouting grass. He grips the bouquet so tight his fingers indented the stems. A breath, then another and he can reach out and touch the headstone. 

It happened slowly at first, then all at once. The Mother granted you twenty years of mated bliss with Azriel. But one day you came home early from the clinic. It was your head, you said, it hurt. That became a regular occurence, until Madja didn’t let you leave and instead sat you down on the exam bed. 

You contracted something from one of your patients, remembering when it happened. “She was just a baby… I didn’t think…” It was a horrifying realization. That patient did not respond to any treatment and in short days the illness had run its course. You knew it was only a matter of time. 

Azriel refused to believe it. Refused to accept it. But nothing Madja did helped. Not even Feyre could help. Not even Thesan. It was a wicked thing that ran through your veins and shut your organs down one by one. During your final months Azriel did not sleep. Always looking for an alternative, a cure, more time, because it wasn’t fair. You had spent your life healing. You had put him back together more times he could count and he couldn’t figure out how to stop the inevitable? Eventually, when you begged him to let it go, to just spend whatever time was left together, he relented. 

By then walking was difficult. A few weeks later, eating was impossible. The last days you mostly slept, the moments you woke were filled with your family saying goodbye. You made Cassian and Rhysand promise to care for him “he’ll suffer, he’ll mourn. But you cannot let him waste away. Please, promise me. Promise me he won’t drown, he’ll be safe, he’ll have a life.” Of course, they both promised. 

Nesta spent hours by your side, brushing your hair, massaging your aching joints. “You can just tell Madja to give me more mirthroot, it helps with that.” 

“Let me care for you, y/n.”

“Can you tell me some gossip? I don’t want all of my last conversations to be so melodramatic.” She scoffed but gave in “Tarquin is betrothed.” You made your best attempt at a gasp. “To who?” 

“I believe she’s an emissary from Day.” 

“He sent me a letter.” Now it was Nesta who gasped. “Tarquin?” 

“Yeah, he found out about me dying somehow and wrote saying that he was sorry things ended on bad terms.” 

“I was always sad we never swam in those pools.” You laughed at that. 

You made sure to send the love that flooded your chest after each visit to Azriel. Wanting him to know that you were ok. That you were loved and not afraid of what came next.

“I think it’s time,” Nesta said with tears welled in her eyes, her lip quivering. A wave of numbness crashed into Azriel. He knew what those words meant. He could feel the bond dwindling each second that passed. Your breath was so shallow, barely there. Until you exhaled one last time. 

Despair snuffed out his numbness. He held your hand and knelt by your bedside, kissed your hands and arms and face. He gripped your hands like they would keep you there, as if holding on tighter would keep you alive. 

He summoned everything he could: love, admiration, devotion. He summoned the nights spent tangled in bed, the days walking by the beach, every touch, every kiss, every “Az”, every scoff, every fight, everything. It all accumulated in his chest and he pushed it down the bond. You had to know the extent of it. You had to know how much he loved you, how that word wasn’t enough. 

But you were already on the other side, waiting for him.

[albaitross]

Reminder to self to flesh out and organize my girl's Persona/SMT verse at some point lmao lmao

(also possible verse notes below bc im still trying to figure it out but also might as well put what i have down in writing Somewhere before i forget again lol)

.

general stuff:

20+ lady, aroace - black hair and black eyes that turn red when she drops the human act, east-asian features

usually dressed in either the scruffiest of scruffy pajamas or looks like an elegant hostess. there is no in-between in her dress sense.

works either as a journalist or an editor for a publishing company, depending

is a half-angel, half-human existence i.e. Nephilim

thusly chased across the cosmos by both Law and Chaos - the former because she contrives divine Order by existing at all and the latter because her existence technically opposes the forces of Law, their nemesis, and thus they want her on their side

personally, she thinks this is all bullshit and would just like to live peacefully but noooooooooo the universal forces at play are Fucking Idiots

primarily lives on Earth, and is both fond of and skeptical of humanity's values - she likes how they can do true good and uplift their fellows, and yet, knows all too well that every human has the potential to commit despicable acts, if they don't outright succumb to such "temptation" quickly; this endeavor of moral grappling is prevalent no matter where and when she is, as she simply cannot understand why someone would want to do something 'bad' (though whether this is from her Law heritage or just simple human uncertainty is unclear).

despite the above, her personality is that of a cheerful yet coy person, used to acting in subtle and indirect ways - she is a generally nice and helpful person, but obtaining her assistance absolutely requires one to decipher a lot of cryptic speech and roundabout manipulations. and of course, convincing her at all to help; she wants no part in the power plays of Law and Chaos, preferring to remain a neutral bystander to practically everything unless it directly concerns her.

and due to all of the above, she has a weird view of herself - of what being half-human but also half-inhuman. at times, she's quite happy to be human, as she dislikes the blue-orange morality of Law and Chaos, but at other times, she dislikes humanity, due to their avarice and cruelty, and quite strongly thinks of herself as 'apart' from most ordinary humans, with extreme cases having her tilt firmly into a "not human and thus different compared to all these disgusting humans" headspace. overall and usually though, she sees that she's just another creature/existence in the vast universe, capable of all the same things, and as such doesn't think too hard about her own moralities (for her own mental wellbeing lol)

another thing she might like talking extensively about, aside from her philosophical psychoanalysis of humans, is the nature of truth - or rather, the fact that humans seem to not like the truth, and that the ones who do embrace it or at least willing to be open-minded are "worthy". this stems from past experiences trying to get people to believe her when it comes to supernatural things but constantly being brushed off until it's likely too late - she deeply sees herself as a modern Cassandra, as such.

game-specific details:

all games:

being half-human, she's capable of manifesting a persona despite kinda being half-persona already. if her persona is capable of evolving, she starts off with Satan and evolves into Lucifer and then to Helel - otherwise, her only persona would be Helel.

she can also see and visit the Velvet Room, but she would be treated more like a passing visitor who isn't really allowed to access the room's services (though she's welcome to just chat amicably with the assistants).

regarding roaming mob shadows - there's a truly random 50-50 chance that they will or will not attack her on sight. most are generally confused about her existence, sensing the human but also not-human part of her. that said, some factors do affect this: more "intelligent" shadows will likely not attack her, while shadows that be considered under the Law alignment are more likely to be aggressive with her. regardless, she is able to communicate with all shadows.

generally, she is associated with Light/Bless, Dark/Curse, Psy and Almighty elements. more lowkey, she is also associated with Fire.

P3:

capable of walking around in the Dark Hour with or without an awakened persona. she likely will not intervene with SEES, as she doesn't particularly care if humanity dooms themselves, but is still curious to see how things will unfold regarding Nyx - if they will give up in the face of their stupidity, or be able to fight what's to come.

post-P3, she's quite impressed with the protagonist for giving themselves up to become the Seal, and sees them as one of the rare examples of humanity's truest potential and worth.

P4:

lowkey on Izanami's side tbh, but still not actively intervening bc again, it doesn't really concern her, also she's curious to see what the Humans(TM) will do. she is absolutely able to enter the Midnight Channel and clearly navigate the fog with or without an awakened persona - but because she's still partly human, she can also manifest a shadow of her own while in there.

her shadow will likely be rather misanthropic of humans, but also all kinds of people and existences, wondering how everyone can force their own views and powers over others - but simultaneously, thinking that since she understands all this, she's undoubtedly better than everyone, as a person with "better moral mores", and that if anyone should decide the Order of the universe, it ought to be her and her insight.

P5:

honestly not a fan of Mr. Igor Impersonator, and is steering extremely clear of the Velvet Room throughout the plot. this also means that she utterly avoids entering the Metaverse unless she absolutely must, and generally tries to avoid directly being in the wardens' line of sight if so - which is to say, she can directly enter the deeper levels, but this requires a lot of effort on her part + she's more astral projecting her spirit into the other side, rather taking her full, actual self there, which can be far more dangerous to herself in addition to leaving her body vulnerable in the meantime.

(if she meets Jose, she will be very fond of him, because he's so innocently simple to her. she will give him all the stamps he wants sygyusgyusuy)

Also is not intervening in the Phantom Thieves matter, though she's still closely following the developments as she likes their rebellious spirit against the norms of society

she's most probably a journalist, so she will be quite informed of anything on the news.

when Maruki(TM) happens in the third semester, she will also be affected - her delusion is that she's a normal human living with a normal family. though, the whole time, she will feel "extremely off".

should she realise she's been put under a delusion, she will feel quite annoyed at Maruki, because she already knows that as much as she wants to be normal, she simply cannot, and the experiences she's had as a "not human" existence are deeply foundational to her own beliefs - putting her in a dream of otherwise is no better than enforcing control over others, even if it's for their own benefit. that said, she also highly empathizes with his ideals of making everyone happy. so overall, she's a little conflicted with him, and ultimately pities him as a human who is simply trying his best, however foolishly.

[nightmyst14-blog]

Soul Jam HC/Theory

This is something I wrote for AU fanfic I'm writing, but do think this a good theory/rant.

Keep in mind, I'm not an expert on CRK, nor am I admitting I want to be. If there is some plot holes, which I'm sure are, so pls share.

OKAY-

It can be somebody related to them, or not. But they must have a bond with that person, with good intentions. In my head, it was the Soul Jam's itself to pick the next person. The ancients themselves can pick up this in dreams.

I believe the Soul Jam has actual forms. Like a spirit or divine being. They have the ability to speak to their 'host' in dreams or visions, like how Pure Vanilla's Soul Jam, Light of Truth, spoke to him in a vision, restoring his memories.

They act less like a god, but more like the host's extra concuioness. But they cannot really interact with the physical world, just with their host. For example, Dark Cacao doesn't get a vision, like PV and Holly. Instead he gets turned into a different form. I personally think that his Soul Jam , Light of Resolution stepping in. They took over Dark Cacao's body to protect him, but due Pom's magic affected Dark Cacao, The king's fight or flight response were on high alert, attacking anything that gets close.

The reason he didn't get a vision is because his mind was clouded. His isolation, grief, and harsh thinking after the Dark Flour War made it hard for his Light to reach, especially with Affogato clouding his mind with lies and half-truths. But they were still there, wanting to help in any way possible. Once Dark Cacao held onto his signature sword again, the bond was restored.

It was told in the Creme Republic (I think?) that Each of the Ancient's Soul Jam does not work well if the person has bad intentions or misdeeds with it. It is 100% pure light magic. It can withstand dark magic, hence we saw PV go up againist Dark Enchantress' blast.

I like to believe they have actual forms, at least ones that can be easily looked at. They take on appearances based on the host's memories, personality, and experiences. They can't be killed nor destroyed. They appear strongest in their host's dream, but they can interact with their offspring.

Here's 2 examples of how they appear in dreams from my fanfic "A Paw covered in Lilies"

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

The mage soon finds herself in a garden, filled with lilies. Petals floated around her, filling the cosmos above her. She walked around, amazed at this strange place. She soon came across a gazebo, with a figure standing there. A woman. They were a long green dress, similar to her own. A black veil covered the woman’s face, white hair spilling around their feet.

White Lily looked at the strange woman, confused. “W-What do you want from me?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.

The veiled stranger said nothing, just pointed to her staff. The Soul Jam was glowing in and out, as if it was speaking. Lily placed a hand on it, soon hearing a voice..

“Can you understand me now?” Said the voice, sounding familiar, seeming to echo around Lily. She looked back at the stranger, seeing that were closer now.

“ Was…was that you?” She asked, soon seeing the stranger chuckle.

“ I guess it has been a while since we spoke, correct?” They said, “But I’m glad our bond is becoming intact again.”

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

“Young Prince…”

Dark Choco opens his eyes. looking around. He was standing in a snowy forest, in front of a bridge. It was hard to see, the falling snow only allowing to see 3 feet in front of him. He kept walking, hoping the bridge could lead him somewhere.

Two dragons were standing there at the end of the bridge, no larger than a cream wolf. It was like the ones he’s seen on tapistries around the castle. One had dark scales, a purple eye on the right side. The other had white scales, with a purple eye on the left.

He was a bit startled, but kept his head.

“ Am.. Am I dreaming?” He asked the dragons, who seemed to nod.

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

I believe that most of the Ancient's children/ grandchildren will get to bond with the Soul Jam, aka Dark Choco and Princess. I would say Tiger Lily, but Princess is more like Hollyberry, hence her love for adventure and passion for helping others.

Dark Choco is VERY much like his father, in strength and in personality. Now that he is free from the Strawberry Jam Sword, I feel he will once again gain its power, after he goes on a self- discovery and comes back from exlie. He still gets dreams from his father's Soul Jam, pushing him to the right direction.

Everyone seems to agree (and I do too) that Clover definitely is White Lily's son. They're quiet, and tend to keep to themselves. They're wanderers, always going to place to place. I feel he is aware of his connection with the connection with the Soul Jam , especially his mother's I call Light of Hope.

It is unconfirmed that Pure Vanilla has a heir himself, but he has plenty of bonds he he made with others. I do like to think little Custard the 3rd will get the Soul Jam, but he is STILL a child. Much too young for that big of a responsibility. So I believe PV's Light will pick Clotted Cream , due to his bonds with Custard the 3rd and how much he cares for others.

I'm unsure about Golden Cheese, which I call hers Light of Courage , But I hope we get some more info about her, which we barely have. I know I've mentioned that her child could be Rougefort, but I imagine they have to earn the right to be the next holder, not just be related to them.

I hope you guys like my LONG rant/theory. I'm open to suggestions, or ideas of who could be the next successor, bc I'm pretty sure mine is far from perfect.

[discipleofhekate]

Small signs Hekate has been here the entire time

Just a small personal list of reflection. I’ve come to realize Hekate & I may have been close since I was young, she just never revealed herself until I was ready. I had my first encounter with Hekate July 2020 🖤🔥

I have been enamored by the moon & the night sky ever since I was very young. Extremely young. Around 4-5 years old. I interpreted this as a calling to a Moon Goddess & just worshipped only “The Silver Goddess” when I got older, but as Hekate is usually syncretized with other moon goddesses (the moon phases & New Moon in particular are important to her) it may have been a nod to her.

I am fond of & find home in liminal spaces. My family travelled a lot when I was younger. I absolutely love my state’s international airport and look forward to the hustle & bustle of it & the mixing energies. I have always called it my second home. I also love places like abandoned homes and dead malls.

I am a skeptic. I am extremely critical and second-guess a lot of things. I was raised by a father who was overly-critical to a fault. But I turned this into a positive and am not a passive person- I actively can and will go after what I believe is right. I also won’t believe things at face value. Sounds like I’m distrusting, but I’ve heard most Hekatean worshippers are known to be skeptics.

My life has been nothing but many crossroads and pivotal moments. Most of them very traumatic. The most recent traumatic event was when Hekate finally revealed herself. A lot of Hekatean worshippers also believe that Hekate comes during a dark, deep low in their lives and Hekate helps guide them out of it (like how she guided Persephone out of the Underworld). The same rings true for me, but multiple times. Every single time I came across horrible, grueling times when I was younger, I always had the strength and resolve to carry on, but didn’t understand how- what I had gone through should have really made someone want to give up. I believe Hekate was the one keeping my head clear while my emotions were intense.

I have always been a witch of ritual and of routine. Without fail, every full moon, I honored the Moon Goddess. At this time before I had been introduced to Hekate, I always worked my magic only on full moons. I considered myself an eclectic witch and nothing more. I always made sure to do my rituals though. Hekate is particular and she prefers rituals & offerings every New Moon; my routines were as if I was honoring her but I didn’t even know it yet.

I saw Hekate Ourania in the summer of 2017 in a vision. I just didn’t realize it was her! She looked like the Virgin Mary, just cloaked in blue robes with many stars, adorned with a golden halo. She had black curly hair and deep blue eyes. This vision confused me, and at this time I was indeed a pagan witch but not a worshipper of Hekate. Now that I know her epithets I believe this was Hekate Ourania, the one who looks over the cosmos.

I felt a deep connection to the movie Pan’s Labyrinth, and the girl who belonged to the Underworld as a princess. I felt like she who had a crescent birthmark who was trying to get back to the underworld really struck a cord with me and I couldn’t figure out why. It just deeply resonated with me. This same girl goes through a labyrinth similar to Hekate’s wheel. Now I do; Hekate brings souls back to the underworld. (Kind of a stretch but still!).

These are all, of course, very personal experiences. I can’t speak for other people and cannot speak on the behalf of Hekate either- everyone has different journeys and that’s okay! I’m just observing some interesting life experiences that may have had to to with Hekate & her influence throughout my entire life 🔥🖤

[chrisevansszn]

A Quick Fling. 🥵

2k word!

18 & up only!

Short story!

Tonight, a group of you and your coworkers are going out to a bar. A group of about eight for a fun night out.

It was a local bar in Boston called “Drink”. You put on a cute black dress and some   Gold YSL Opyum pumps. You arrived at the bar around 9:30PM, and the crew was already there. Devin booked a corner in the VIP sections so you all could hang out and chat with no problem. You walked to the section and everyone seemed to be staring at you. Probably because you rarely wear a dress and heels.

“Hi everyone”, you said walking up.

The crew consisted of Devin, Jordan, Michael, Jesi, Matt, Jake, Christina, and Chris. You all have been working as detectives for many years together. You all are practically family.

“Ok Y/N. I see you!”, Matt hollers out.

“Matt cut it out please!”, you blushed so hard, but you were seriously wearing that dress. It was hugging every curve on your body.

Your section came with its own waitress, so you ordered a vodka and cranberry. You found a spot between Jesi and Chris. You chatted up with both until your drink came. It was strong just like you wanted.

“Y/N I don’t think I have ever seen you in a dress since working with you for five years.”, Chris says.

“I know. I am honestly not a dress girl, but I figured I would throw one on.”

“It looks nice.”

“Thank you, Chris.”. You smiled at him.

The conversation turned into work and included everyone. Cases, unsolved murders, the whole nine. The waitress brought over a round of shots for everyone. Everyone then decided to go to the dance floor. The music is good, and everyone is gathered around dancing. You noticed how good Chris is looking in his flannel shirt. You make your way a little closer to dance next to him.

You finished your drink mid dance and decided to go to the bar to get another.

“Can I have Cosmo please?” The bar tender nodded.

“Hi beautiful.”

You looked over and saw a strange man next to you. Way older and not your type. You smile and give a dry hello. He continues to talk to you and you really are trying to ignore him. Come on bartender!

“Are you single beautiful?”

“No, I’m not. I actually have a boyfriend.”

“Well, where is he then? Leaving you here all alone.”

“I’m right here.”

You turn around and see Chris.

“Yep. Here is my man.” You fake smile again. Chris sits on the seat next to you. The man gives you and Chris the side eye. He isn’t buying it. You turn to face Chris and wrap your arms around his shoulders. Chris gives you a smile. He is trying to keep from laughing.

“Baby did you order another drink yet?” You ask.

“No, I didn’t. I can’t stop admiring you in this dress.”

Chris grabs you by the waist and brings you closer in between his legs. What the fuck is he doing?

“Not in front of everyone Chris.” You give him and look and pull away a little.

The man next to you is still staring. Chris laughs. Chris turns quickly and orders him another drink and he turns back around facing you. The eye contact you both are making is nothing like you two have ever done before.

You have to play the role. You step back between Chris’ legs and lean in. He grabs you again and takes you in his arms. You both sing the song that is playing to each other and catching a vibe. You lean in and give Chris a kiss on the lips and you feel him grab your right ass cheek and squeeze.

Now you’re doing too much sir! You like it….not going to lie.

The kiss wasn’t long but enough to make the man walk away. Chris didn’t let go either.

“You can let go now Chris.”

“What if I don’t want to.”

You paused…

“People will talk, and you know that.”

He giggled.

“I will let go this time.”

He releases you. You didn’t want him to. You both take your drinks back to the VIP section and sit. The rest came over shortly behind.

The group continued to drink and dance in the VIP section until the bar closed. Everyone was drunk off their ass and Uber’s were called. You went to the ladies’ room while everyone walked out. A few minutes later you walked out and saw Chris standing close to the exit.

“Chris did you call an Uber?”

“Oh yes, but I wanted to wait on you. I didn’t want you to be by yourself. You know?”

Damn. What a great man!

“Oh, thank you!”

“Feel free to join my Uber ride. We stay pretty close to either other.”

“Sure.”

You both walk outside and notice everyone else was already gone. Your Uber finally arrived. Chris opened the door for you, and you climbed in. He followed suit. The Uber pulled off. You wasted no time.

You leaned over.

“Why don’t I just go home with you instead?”

You rubbed your hand from Chris’ left knee up to his thigh, and then softly across his dick. It had been a while and some pipe is exactly what you needed.

Chris gave you THE LOOK. He took his middle finger into his mouth and licked it and turned and slid his finger up your vagina. You sighed softly. Oh…you are going to give Chris all of you tonight. He penetrated your folds and took everything for you not to moan.  He then took his fingers from your vagina and leaned in a little closer. Chris then stuck the same finger in his mouth to taste your waterfalls never once breaking eye contact from you.

The Uber arrived at Chris’ place and you both hope out. He has a nice ass farmhouse on some acres. He grabs you by the hand and you both walk to his front door. You could hear a dog barking from behind the door. Chris unlocks the door and uses his leg to block his dog from running out.

“Dodger back.”, he says gently.

He pushes the door open and allows you to walk in first and then closes and locks the door behind him.

“Hi Dodger.”, you give him a gentle rub.

“Come on Bubba..bedtime.”

Dodger follows Chris down the hallway. Your guess is to another bedroom.  You take off your heels in the hallway…fuck it. You could barely walk in them anymore. You see Chris coming back down the hallway.

“Do you want some water or- “

You instantly grab him and kiss those pink lips. He kisses you back so passionately and pushes you into the nearest wall. You grab his dick outside of his pants and you can feel it getting longer. Chris begins kissing you on your neck and lifts up your dress and grabs your ass and squeeze.

“That ass is perfect.” He says to you. He takes you by the hand and leads you into his bedroom.  You push him down on his bed, and then unzip your dress as he watches you. He sticks his hands down his pants and begins to rub his dick.  Your dress drops to the floor revealing your perfect breast and laced thong.

“Spin around for me sweetheart.”

You slowly turned so Chris could see every inch of your body. His are fixated on you, all of his attention is yours. You grab one ass cheek and squeeze it just for fun.

“Holy shit.”, you hear him whisper.

You walk over to him and softly kiss his lips. You move over to his cheek, down to his neck, and a quick lick on his right ear. You could hear his quiet moans. You unbutton his red and blue flannel revealing the muscle shirt underneath. His tattoos peeking out and is necklace hanging. A complete turn on. Chris takes off his flannel and muscle shirt revealing his body that is literally a canvas. Tattoos everywhere! Time to kiss them all. You push Chris back on the bed and climb on top.

You move slowly down kissing and licking each tattoo along the way. You unzip is pants and pulling out his long hard dick. He was ready for you, but first things first. You licked Chris’ dick from the bottom up to the tip. You can feel his hands in your hair and hear him take a deep breath. You take his entire dick in your mouth. Up and down, you got giving Chris that super sloppy 6000! You are giving him the two-hand action in the process.  

Your puss is throbbing. You wanted penetration immediately. You slid off your thong and climb on top. You slowly sat down on that thick dick and threw your head back. It was everything you needed. Up and down, you went while Chris had one hand on your ass and the other holding your breast. You let out moans.

After some time, Chris grabs you by the waist and flips you over. Now he is on top. He completely comes out of his pants and underwear. He pulls you to the edge of the bed and enters your walls again. As he strokes, he leans over you and gently grabs you around your neck and slightly chokes you. THIS IS YOUR FAVORITE! You’re are literally nose to nose with each other. You stick out your tongue and gently lick the outside of his lips. He giggled.

He then takes his dick out of you and begins to devour you like no one else had. His cooch eating game CANNOT be touched. While he’s eating your soul, he then sticks two fingers inside of you. Your back arches.

“Y/N you taste so fucking good.”

He then flips you over and pulls you up on all fours. He teases you with just the tip in and out, in and out.

“Chris give me your dick now.”

“Say no more baby.”

He rams his dick in your puss from behind and lets out a few moans. Faster and faster, he goes and harder and harder. Your mouth is stuck open and your eyes roll back. Chris continues to fuck you in different positions: on your back, from the side, on your stomach. Who knew he would be able to go so long!

You finally heard him say. “I’m fucking about to nut.”

He groans but not too loud, and you orgasm at the same time. He lays next to you and kisses your shoulder. Chris’ dick was so fucking good. You get up and go to his bathroom to clean up. You walk out and start putting your dress on.

“Wait, where are you going?”, Chris asked.

“Home.”, you say while grabbing your phone to order an Uber.

“Why don’t you just stay for the night?”

“That’s how people catch feelings. This is a business transaction.”

Chris busts out laughing.

“If you say so Y/N.”

He walks up to you and kisses your neck.

“Come to the kitchen with me, so I can get you a bottle of water. We drank a lot tonight.”

You all did. You didn’t even both putting on your heels because you could barely walk without them. You follow him to the kitchen, and he hands you a bottle of Fiji. You phone dings letting you know your Uber has arrived. Chris walked you outside and opened the car door.

“Text me when you make it home…please.”

“Of course. Goodnight Chris.”

“Goodnight Y/N”

He closes the door, and the Uber takes off. You left your panties behind.

Maybe he will call you up soon to come back and pick them up….

I hope you enjoyed! Follow for more! 💛

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Out Of Time ~ 127

MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 3,080ish

Summary: Tony and Y/N run into an old friend and meet two of the Children of Thanos.

Previous in Out Of Time:

“Tony—“

“I know, getting ahead of myself again. You know what there should be no more surprises. Let’s have a nice dinner tonight and we should have no more surprises. I should promise you.”

“Actually, Tony, I really need to talk to you about something. I made—“

“Tony Stark,” a man with a red cloak appeared a few feet away. There was an orange portal behind him. “Y/N Rogers, I’m Doctor Stephen Strange. And I need you both to come with me.”

The necklace around the man’s neck immediately caught Y/N’s eye as Tony moved to stand protectively in front of her. It was the same necklace that the Ancient One wore, it housed the Time Stone.

“I’m sorry, what are you doing here?” Tony asked. “You giving out tickets or something?”

“We need your help,” Dr. Strange responded, glancing at Y/N, which made Tony tense. “Look, it’s not overselling to say that the fate of the universe is at stake.”

“No,” Y/N gasped softly.

“And who’s ‘we’?” Tony questioned.

“Hey, Tony,” Bruce Banner greeted, nervously emerging from behind Dr. Strange.

“Bruce?”

“Y/N.”

“Hi,” she responded quietly.

“You okay?” Tony asked.

Bruce came up to Tony, giving him a desperate hug, not answering the question. Dr. Strange was focused on Y/N. Slowly, she walked up to him.

“It’s time,” he told her.

“I know,” she responded quietly.

Tony guided Bruce over and through the portal, grabbing Y/N’s hand as he passed. Dr. Strange was the last one through, closing the portal after them. Another man, Wong, was waiting in the building on the other side of the portal. Tony sat down while Y/N stayed standing, nervously biting at her nail. Bruce told them of what had happened to him and why he was back. Wong used his magic to show the universe and five of the six Infinity Stones.

"From the dawn of the universe, there was nothing,” Wong began, “Then, boom! The Big Bang sent six elemental crystals, hurtling across the virgin universe. These Infinity Stones each control an essential aspect of existence.”

“Space. Reality,” Strange named the Stones, each one lighting up as he did. “Power. Soul. Mind. And,” he opened his necklace, “Time.”

“Tell me his name again,” Tony ordered, very attentive.

“Thanos. He’s a plague, Tony,” Bruce answered. “He invades planets. He takes what he wants. He wipes out half the population. He sent Loki. The attack on New York. That’s him.”

Tony stood up and looked at Y/N. It was obvious that Y/N knew about the Infinity Stones. Honestly, he wasn’t all that surprised but he was a little hurt. Things were falling into place now, the headaches, the connection with the Tesseract, her powers. She was connected to all six Stones.

“This is it…” He said quietly to her. She nodded. He turned to face the other men. “What’s our timeline?”

“No telling,” Bruce replied. “He has the Power and Space Stones, that already makes him the strongest creature in the whole universe. If he gets his hands, on all six Stones, Tony—“

“He can destroy life on a scale hitherto undreamt of,” Dr. Strange interrupted.

Tony leaned against the cauldron near the stairs, stretching like he was about to go for a run. “Did you seriously just say ‘hitherto undreamt of’?”

“Are you seriously leaning on the Cauldron of the Cosmos?”

“Is that what this is…?” 

The cloak on Dr. Strange’s back suddenly smacked Tony’s arm, surprising him and Y/N. Tony looked at the thing, slightly offended before straightening himself up. 

“I’m going to allow that,” Tony continued. “If Thanos needs all six, why don’t we just stick this one down the garbage disposal?”

“That’s not how it works, Tony,” Y/N sighed.

“No can do,” Strange said.

“We swore an oath to protect the Time Stone,” Wong added. “With our lives.”

“And I swore off dairy, but then, Ben and Jerry’s named a flavor after me, so…”

“Stark Raving Hazelnuts,” Strange stated.

“It’s not bad.”

“A bit chalky.”

“A Hunka-Hulka Burning Fudge is our favorite,” Wong said.

“That’s a thing?” Bruce questioned.

“Whatever,” Tony said. “Point is: things change.”

“Our oath to protect the Time Stone cannot change,” Strange said. “This Stone, and Y/N, may be the best chance we have against Thanos.”

“Y/N?” Bruce repeated. “Why Y/N?”

“My… My abilities,” she nervously answered. “They’re from the Stones. I can control them.”

“Not gonna happen,” Tony quickly stated. “That Stone needs to go because it may also be his best chance against us.”

“Well, if we don’t do our jobs,” Strange said.

“What is your job exactly, besides making balloon animals?”

“Protecting your reality, douchebag.”

“Okay, guys, could we table this discussion right now?” Bruce requested. “The fact is that we have this Stone. We know where it is. Vision is out there somewhere with the Mind Stone, and we have to find him now.”

“Yeah, that’s the… thing,” Tony muttered, awkwardly.

“What do you mean?” Y/N asked.

“Two weeks ago, Vision turned off his transponder. His offline.”

“What?” Bruce exclaimed. “Tony, you lost another super bot?”

“I didn’t lose him. He’s more than that. He’s evolving.”

“He’s with Wanda,” Y/N whispered. “They’ve been sneaking around like we have, haven’t they?”

“That’s been my guess.”

“Who could find Vision, then?” Dr. Strange asked.

“Shit,” Tony quietly muttered to himself. He looked around at the others. “Probably Steve Rogers.”

“Oh, great,” Strange sighed in exasperation.

“Maybe. But…” Tony sighed.

Looking over at Y/N, he was met with her scared gaze. Everything was going to suddenly change, he knew it. It just hoped this didn’t change where they stood.

“Call him,” Bruce pressed.

“It’s not that easy Bruce,” Y/N responded. “Things happened. Technically, it’s illegal for me to be here right now. Everyone in this room should be calling the police.”

“The Avengers broke up,” Tony clarified. “We’re toast.”

“Broke up?” Bruce repeated. “Like a band? Like The Beatles?”

“Cap and I feel out hard. We’re not on speaking terms.”

“Then Y/N. Call your brother.”

“I have no way to get a hold of him,” she shook her head. “I haven’t spoken to him in two years.”

“Tony, Y/N, listen to me. Thor’s gone. Thanos is coming. It doesn’t matter who you’re talking to or not.”

“I know what’s at stake here, Bruce… I’ve known for a while now.”

Y/N could feel everyone’s gazes on her. Bruce was questioning what she meant, but the others knew and they looked at her with pity. With a sigh, Tony pulled out a flip phone. The one Steve had mailed him. He flipped it open, hovering over the call button to the only number on the phone.

“What’s that?” Y/N asked. Tony met her gaze and went to explain, but it was too late. She already knew. “He sent that to you,” a statement, not a question. “You've been able to contact him the whole time…. Have you ever…?”

“No,” Tony shook his head. “I almost did once. When I found you at the cemetery that first time. But then—“

“The Soul Stone took me. And you were worried… don’t worry. I don’t blame you.” She let out a shaky breath as she walked over and grabbed Tony’s free hand. “Call him.”

Looking back down at the phone, Tony hovered his thumb over the call button once again. Y/N gave his hand a slight squeeze as she watched. But before he could press call, an unusual rumbling could be heard from outside. Tony looked up and around, noticing that something was off.

“Say, Doc, you wouldn’t happen to be moving your hair, would you?” Tony wondered, pointing the phone at Strange, whose hair was slightly moving.

Strange looked up. “Not at the moment, no,” Strange answered.

Looking up through the whole in the ceiling, Tony and Y/N saw debris flying by outside. All of them looked towards the doors, able to see things flying by and people running. 

“I’m not ready,” Y/N whispered. “I-I can’t…” Her heart was pounding. “I… I can’t—“

“Woah, woah, woah,” Tony was in front of her, hands rubbing her shoulders. “No one’s asking you to do anything right now. We don’t know what’s going on out there.”

“I won’t be able to save them all…” She shook her head, tearing up. “I already know that… And I’m not ready for that…”

“But you don’t know that, Y/N. We don’t know what’s out there or what’s about to happen. But we will do our best to figure it out and prevent what’s coming. Together, alright?” Y/N nodded. “Alright.” Tony ran a hand down her arm and intertwined his fingers with her. “Let’s go see what we’re up against.”

Holding hands, Tony and Y/N walked up to the front doors, glancing back at the men behind them before going through them. Outside was chaotic. People running and screaming in alarm, traffic tangled, a litter-filled wind. As the two make their way towards where people are running from, a woman fell at Tony’s feet. He quickly helped her up.

“You okay?” He asked, concerned.

Ignoring him, she quickly keeps running. A car suddenly crashed into a pole behind Tony and Y/N. They flinch, turning to see a man inside.

“Help him!” Tony shouted. “Wong, Doc.”

“Go! Got it!” Bruce replied, rushing to the car.

Slipping his hand into his pocket, Tony retrieved a pair of sunglasses. He put them on, keeping him and Y/N going towards the issue.

“FRIDAY, what am I looking at?” He asked his AI.

“Not sure,” FRIDAY responded. “I’m working on it.”

“Hey! You might wanna put that Time Stone in your back pocket, Doc!”

Dr. Strange moved his arms, golden bands appearing around his forearms. “Might want use it,” he responded.

“Don’t leave my side,” Tony told Y/N.

“Okay,” she replied with a nod.

Approaching an intersection, the two turned the corner together. Floating over the street, was a huge circular ship.

“FRIDAY, evac anyone south of 43rd Street,” Tony directed. “Notify first responders.”

“Will do,” the AI replied.

From behind them, a large gust of wind came, clearing the dust and debris from the air. Both Y/N and Tony turned to see Dr. Strange behind them. He threw a wink at Tony. For a split second, Tony is begrudgingly amused. Close together, they walk closer to the ship, stopping when two beings appear in front of them.

“Hear me, and rejoice,” the skinny one exclaimed. “You are about to die at the hands of the Children of Thanos. Be thankful, that your meaningless lives are now contributing to—“

“I’m sorry,” Tony interrupted, folding his arms over his chest as he stepped up, “Earth is closed today. You better pack it up and get outta here.”

“Stonekeeper,” the alien called, looking at Strange, “does this chattering animal speak for you?”

“Certainly not. I speak from myself,” Strange responded. Magical shields are readied at his fists as he stepped forward, Wong emulating him. “But you’re trespassing in this city and on this planet.”

“It means get lost, Squidward!” Tony shouted.

“He exhausts me,” the skinny being commented to its larger, bulkier being. “Bring me the Stone.”

The larger being dropped its huge hammer, dragging it along as it obeyed the ordered. From slightly behind Tony, Y/N’s hands began to glow purple.

“Banner you want a piece?” Tony asked.

“No, not really,” Bruce responded. “But when do I ever get what I want?”

“That’s right.”

Channeling his anger, Bruce attempted to release the Hulk. But instead of Hulk coming out easily, green shows up on Bruce’s neck and then quickly disappeared.

“Been a while,” Tony continued. “Good to have you, buddy.”

“I just... I need to concentrate here for one second,” Bruce said. “Come on, come on, man.”

“Where’s your guy?”

“I don't know. We've sorta been havin' a thing.”

“There’s no time for a thing.”

“I know.”

Tony pointed forward and the approaching being. “That’s the thing right there. Let’s go.”

Bruce gave out a loud grunt, but still failed to release the Hulk. Dr. Strange stared at Tony and Bruce in disbelief, while Y/N slowly had her powers snake their way to the two beings.

“Dude,” Tony muttered to Bruce, “you’re embarrassing me in front of the wizards.”

“Tony, I’m sorry,” Bruce apologized. “Either I can’t or he won’t—“

“It’s okay. Hey,” Tony set his hands on Bruce’s shoulders, “stand down.” He turned to Wong, guiding Bruce back. “Keep an eye on him. Thank you.”

“I have him,” Wong replied with a nod.

“Damn it,” Bruce murmured. 

Tony then noticed Y/N’s hands. “No,” he quickly said, rushing in front of her. “You need to save your strength.”

“If I can stop them, I want to before it’s too late,” Y/N retorted.

“Really no time for this,” Strange cut in.

Tony turned to see the being coming closer. Stepping up, Tony taps his new arc reactor, revealing his nanotech Iron Man suit that quickly forms to him. He forms a shield on one arm, protecting him from a hit from the being. Then Tony forms a set of blasters that easily throw the being back to the skinny one, who gestured and deflected his massive companion into some cars.

“Where’d that come from?” Bruce wondered, in awe.

“It’s nano-tech,” Tony responded, turning around. “You like it? A little someth—“

Suddenly, a spike of earth shot up and threw Iron Man far up. Using uprooted trees and other debris, the skinny being began attacking the rest of them. But before the attack can even do anything to the small team, Y/N steps forward motioning her hands in front of her and dissolving all the objects in one swift movement.

“Interesting,” the skinny one observed. “You are a strong one. I sense a great power in you.”

“And I sense a great deal of annoyance,” Y/N responded.

“Dr. Banner,” Dr. Strange said as Y/N and the being were having a stand off, “if the rest of your green friend won’t be joining us…”

Strange teleported Bruce away, along with half a taxi. Iron Man then returned to the fight, pushing a car thrown by the skinny being back at it. The car get cuts in half, and the being was untouched. Y/N put her hands in front of her, blasting the being with a purple beam. It flew back, crashing into the building behind it.

“Gotta get that Stone out of here, now,” Tony ordered, blocking a blast meant for Y/N.

“It stays with me,” Strange responded.

“Exactly. Bye. Y/N, get out of here!”

“No way in hell!” Y/N replied as Tony flew through the forming obstacle course.

As Tony made his way through, Y/N began to destroy the obstacles in his way. Before he could get to the end of the course, Tony was cut short my the big guy’s hammer, sending him through a building at high speed.

“Tony!” Y/N screamed. 

Her emotional scream caused power to be released from her whole body, destroying everything the alien had put in their way. She was panting and angry when the dust settled again.

“Well, well,” the alien chuckled, “I guess I was right.”

“Leave here,” Y/N demanded. “Before I end you.”

“I can’t wait to see you try.”

“Y/N, go!” Strange ordered, him and Wong being to fight off the being.

“What?!” She exclaimed, helping them. “You know what I’m capable of, what I’m meant to do. Why order me away?”

“Just listen to me!”

“Not without the Stone! You and I both know that I can protect it better than you!”

“And why is that?” The being asked, having heard the conversation while using the surroundings to attack.

He shot bricks turned into sharp points at them. Channeling the Time Stone, Y/N turned back time so that the bricks were dust. The Time Stone glowed in the necklace and Y/N’s hands were glowing green.

“Impossible,” the being whispered. “You… You’re channeling the Stones.”

Y/N blasted him with a powerful beam, sending the alien back and scraping agains the road. It stood back up, cuts littering its body. Angry, the aline used a broke fire hydrant’s water steam to knock Wong back several meters, rending him unconscious. Dr. Strange then snaps a whip of magical energy to bind the alien’s hands and yanked. The alien flew forward with the pull and pins Strange upside-down against a building, using the bricks to trap him.

“Get to Stark!” Y/N heard Dr. Strange say in his head. “Listen to me! Get to Stark! Now!”

Y/N hesitated slightly before deciding to not listen to Strange and attack the skinny alien from behind. The bricks continued to pile on Strange as the skinny alien turned around to face Y/N. Debris began flying at Y/N in all directions. Using her powers, Y/N blocked them, set them away, and dusted them. But she couldn’t see everything that was coming. From behind, the alien launched at car at her. It hit her, hard, shooting her forward and skidding her across the road, knocking her out. The alien turned its attention back to Strange.

“Your powers are quaint,” it taunted. “Especially compared to the girl over there. You must be popular with children.”

The alien reached out and tried to grab the necklace holding the Time Stone. It quickly jerked back when the necklace burnt its hand.

“It’s a simple spell but quite unbreakable,” Strange stated.

“Then I’ll take it off your corpse.”

The alien pulled Strange away from the building and threw him to the ground. Strange began to gesture to use the Time Stone, but utility cables pin down his arms, wind around his torso, then tighten around his throat.

“You’ll find… removing a dead man’s spell… troublesome…” Strange choked out.

“You’ll only wish you were dead.”

Knocking out Strange, the alien raised a portion of street pavement to use as a carrier. With a smirk, went over to Y/N.

“Thanos will be eager to meet you,” it said, using its powers to pick her up and tie her next to Strange. “Or kill you. Guess we’ll just have to see.”

next chapter >

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[j-pankratz]

Stuck in the Middle with You

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

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

x

“A year! A full year. Two! THREE!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“When’s move in?”

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good save,” Geralt said.

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

“I didn’t do anything."

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

“No I didn’t.”

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

“Nope.”

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

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

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

“More fun to watch you run.”

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

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

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

“You like running more than stairs?”

“I would run toward convenience any day.”

“Mmm,” Geralt hummed softly.

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

“Yep.”

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

Geralt smiled. “8b.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was no way this would be worth it.

——

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

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

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

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

“What do you want.”

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

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

“That’s sweat. Or coffee.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then Roach barreled in.

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

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

“Her name is Roach.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

“…You bought her toys?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Feel better?”

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

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

Again, he understood Jaskier less than before.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What.”

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

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

“No. Too dangerous.”

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

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

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

“I’ve been here four days.”

“And what have you eaten!”

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

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

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

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

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

24 Messages from GETTING LIT WITH CITY WITCHERS

Coën – Just now

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

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

25 Messages from GETTING LIT WITH CITY WITCHERS

Lambert – Just now

Fine ruin my dreams fuck

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

That could not possibly be good.

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You get this defensive about all your friends?”

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

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

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

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

“Are you gonna tell us about him?”

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

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

x

This was not the first time the halls were muddy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

x

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

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

Eskel sat down again with a sigh.

x

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, you’re coming?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Would you rather get eaten?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Geralt shook it off. Not realistic.

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The elevator was silent as the doors slid shut.

“Do people always look at you like that?”

“You mean with a dagger in their hands?”

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

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

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

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

“Just open the door.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

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

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

“Sorry you got dragged in—”

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

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

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

“Mm.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, fuck mages,” Jaskier said.

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

“Ugh. Trust me, I know.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But not you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

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

Lambert – 48 minutes ago

God, this shit should NOT be so hard.

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

Message: yeah, I feel you

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

x

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

Boring.

She took out her phone.

To: Aretuza Takes Novigrad

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

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

Aretuza Takes Novigrad

Sabrina – Just Now

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

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

Aretuza Takes Novigrad

Coral Lytta– Just Now

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

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

Aretuza Takes Novigrad

Fringilla – 7 minutes ago

Why is anyone awake??? Go back to sleep

To: Aretuza Takes Novigrad

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

Aretuza Takes Novigrad

Fringilla – Just Now

Not on my day off it’s not

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

x

9:37am

Thursday, March 12th

2 Messages from Jaskier

Just now

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

7 Messages from CITY WITCHERS GETTING LAMBERT A DATE

Eskel – 19 minutes ago

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

NEWS

New Novigrad Times – 2 hours ago

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

14 more notifications

x

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

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

Toss a—

They came after me , with masterful—

Brings you to mourn—

That’s my epic tale—

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

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

With Geralt of Rivia, along came this song…

Geralt grimaced. “Fuck.”

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

If you track mud into this building one more

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

All the best, ~Penthouse.

x

Aretuza Takes Novigrad

Coral Lytta – 17 minutes ago

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

——

Jaskier -- 15 minutes ago

So. I may have gone viral,

——

To: Aretuza Takes Novigrad

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

——

Jaskier -- 5 minutes ago

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

Ciri -- Just Now

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

——

Anica -- Just Now

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

——

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

Lambert – 1 minute ago

Literally how the fuck does this happen to you

Jaskier -- Just Now

Hey that rhymed!!

x

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

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

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

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

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

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

x

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

x

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His phone rang.

They kept staring.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Geralt frowned. “Are you on a date?”

“Not that I’m fucking aware of!”

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

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

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

“Fucking WHERE, Geralt!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you have many of those?”

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

She titled her head slightly and sat back to let her gaze drag over him. “So, none from lovers, then?”

He smiled again. “Cheeky.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Take it however you’d like.”

“You’re not much for flattering yourself, are you, Geralt.”

“That’s what I’ve got my bard for.”

She laughed, a light thing that he knew would be echoing around his chest for days. She leaned back in, looking around conspiratorially. He leaned in a touch as well, their faces only inches from each other now. “Tell me, Geralt. Are you as noble and chivalrous as that song made you out to be?”

“It flatters me. But I do my best for… those in need.”

“And if I were in need, you would do something for me?”

“I might be able to do that.”

“Well then.” She leaned in to whisper in his ear. “I would be entirely grateful, Geralt… if you get me some apple juice.” He leaned back in confusion, while she pressed the coin he still held further into his hand. “This should cover it.”

When he leaned away, she wore an unmistakably coquettish smile, biting back a laugh. He smiled despite himself, brows furrowed as he looked down at the coin, and back at her, before letting out a small laugh himself.

“Alright. One apple juice, fair mage. I will do my best.”

“Take care on your dangerous voyage!” She called after him, as he slipped into the crowd. She whipped out her phone; the break would be lasting another 15 or so minutes, just enough to play a game on her phone. Whether or not Geralt made it back to his table in time for the next set was none of her concern. Besides, he’d somehow befriended her most recent mortal enemy, so anything that happened tonight would have to be a one-time thing. If anything happened, of course, but Yennefer was not in the habit of letting a good time pass her by.

Things were perfectly right in her world, as she waited for her phone to load, until suddenly someone dressed in frankly garish teal and red was standing before her. She didn’t look up from her phone.

“Ahem?”

She continued looking at her phone. The damn thing wouldn’t load.

“You know, it’s very rude to keep your most reviled enemy waiting.”

It still wouldn’t fucking load. She groaned and put it down. “What do you want, Jaskier?” Her neighbor, grinning widely and holding two glasses of punchy looking drinks, sat down across from her. “No one else hesitated to applaud my wonderful performance except… for you. Come on. You must have some review for me. Three words or less.”

She raised an eyebrow and looked at him for a moment. “I don’t buy it.”

He frowned. “No, that’s four. What don’t you buy?”

“The song. You expect me to believe you willingly put yourself within 10 miles of danger? You already complain that the second floor is too dangerous for you.”

“It is dangerous, and I sleep there, so it’s different. Really, it did happen, you could ask Geralt. Actually, gods, no, don’t ask Geralt. Don’t talk to him, actually. You’d hate each other, definitely, best stay away.”

“Oh dear. Someone’s already jealous.”

“I am not—!” he squeaked, before leaning in. “I am not jealous, I just don’t need you and your…” he waved a hand at her, “your face-ness scaring him off!”

“My face?”

“Yes! It’s full of… secrets. And… plots. Evil plots!”

“Right. Do you know what your face is full of?”

“Charm? Charisma? An air of mystery?”

She swiftly grabbed one of his drinks and splashed it in his face, while he gaped. She swiped a finger across his cheek and tasted it. “Mmm, no… something fruity. Strawberry?”

“Raspberry,” he corrected. His face dripped. “I had that coming, a bit.”

“Oh, absolutely.” She waved a hand, and the drink was gone—his face, shirt, the table all now dry. “Don’t take that as a kindness. I just don’t want to pay for your dry cleaning.”

“Of course,” he replied, touching his now dry face. “And I don’t want any more battles with you in the laundry genre, if I can help it.” Despite herself, she laughed.

“Ah, I see there is a brain behind those blue eyes after all.”

“You just like seeing me covered in liquid and at your mercy.”

“Maybe,” she admitted.

He sat back in the booth. “You know, if you weren’t utterly terrifying, I could write songs about you as well. I’m sure you’ve got stories. We could make some together.”

“I am the story.”

“See, that’s good! Have you considered abandoning magic and the position of ‘very sexy, very scary witch’, and instead working towards of ‘very sexy, very charming poet’? At least then we’d be competitors in the same field. Same playing ground! Same weapons, which is to say, absolutely no weapons.”

“Mm. And have you considered abandoning your current title of ‘unfortunately charming, unfortunately talented, deeply annoying musician’ and opting instead for ‘very quiet, mildly charming eye candy’? It would suit you more.”

“The day I stop talking is the day I run out of breath.”

“I look forward to it.”

“Dear Ms. Penthouse, I’m sure you’ll be the one to bring it about.”

“Wouldn’t you love to be so lucky. Besides, haven’t you got a wolf in shining armor to protect you?” Just then, a sound went over the loudspeakers. 5 minutes until the end of the break, then.

“Well, much as I’d love to continue this lovely and for me, a frankly sexually confusing chat, I must grab my drinks before our next musicians are on.”

“Take care, then. I’d hate to see you die without getting to be a part of it,” she said, giving him a pat on the arm, her hand lingering as he looked at her for a moment, licking his lips and then hurrying off.

It was only moments before Geralt returned.

“One apple juice,” he said, setting a tall glass in front of her with a straw. Yennefer smiled and pulled it closer to her, taking a sip. “Is it to your liking, fair mage?”

It was quite good, actually. “Acceptable. Thank you, dear witcher, for your services.”

“Any others you’d like to request of me?”

“Mmm… give me the evening to think of one.”

“I can’t promise I’ll be here forever.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m sure I’ll think of something. You just go… sit in the corner and brood.”

He laughed. “You’re not the first one to say that to me tonight.”

“Mm, so you’re completing quests for others? Should I be worried?” She snuck a glance toward the crowd, and Geralt followed her eyes to land on Jaskier, fliting between people, drinking something that this time looked icy and blue. “Just a friend, I hope?”

Geralt turned to look back at her. His face had too many things subtly happening for her to read it well, and after only a moment Fringilla and Coral had returned, beginning to slip into the booth.

“Will you be joining us?” Fringilla asked, but Geralt shook his head.

“I’ve been told to go brood,” he replied, and made his way back to his booth.

——

Geralt did, in his defense, make an attempt to listen to the other performers. Jaskier spent the evening continuing to flirt around the room, hands lingering on him, his own hands gently caressing shoulders and arms. Geralt could tell already he’d be going home alone that night. Well, not alone. Yennefer and he had been sharing glances as the night progressed, and he was fairly certain he knew where that was heading.

He just wouldn’t be going home with Jaskier, who would himself undoubtedly be going home with some fan or other patron. He had his pick of the room, for the most part. Which was good. Geralt knew he sought the praise, the fame. Besides, Jaskier and he had only planned to spend the late night catching up on their weekly nature documentary.

Another man paid for Jaskier’s next drink, a fizzy concoction, and Geralt felt himself give the tiniest hint of a growl.

Eventually, Yennefer’s companions slipped out, and he returned to her booth.

“Do you have a quest for me, then?”

“Mmm. How about, protect me here, until it’s time to leave, and then walk me back to my apartment?”

Geralt nodded. “That, I can do.”

The night pushed onward. After a few performers more, Geralt looked around in between sets and realized he’d lost track of Jaskier entirely. It would be unlike him to not give a heads-up before going home with somebody. Geralt frowned and checked his phone. A few dozen messages from Eskel and Coën, and; one missed call from Jaskier. Shit. He took a deep breath—he could smell his friend in the air, but not quite which direction it came from, not with so many people. Yennefer gave him a look.

“What’s wrong?”

“Missed a call. Hold on.” He pressed the redial and held it to his ear. It rang three times before it picked up. “Jaskier?”

“Mmm. Ger. Ger’lt. Do you wanna go home? With me.”

“You want me to take you home?” He shot an apologetic look at Yennefer.

“Come home with me.”

“Okay, Jaskier. Where are you?”

“Outside.”

“Alright. Be there soon.” Geralt hung up and began to slide out of the booth. “Sorry. He’s had a big night.”

“I could tag along,” Yennefer offered. “And then you’ll have doubly earned your rewards tonight.”

“I—sure, sure,” and they were off, navigating around the bar and out the door. “He doesn’t live that far away,” Geralt began to explain.

“Oh, I know.” Geralt shot her a questioning look as they exited the front door.

——

Jaskier was right there, leaning against the wall. His head ached—he’d had possibly more to drink in this night than he had for the past two weeks combined. It had all caught up with him, and he’d found himself outside, taking deep breaths of fresh air, clutching his lute bag to his chest.

He’d flirted around all night, but nothing, nobody had been worth his time. How was he supposed to focus on anyone when Geralt was right there? Not that he was interested, of course. But he’d come out, he’d come early, just to see Jaskier perform. Well, to be fair, his hit song, (he had one of those now!) was about Geralt, so that was probably why he came. But he wanted to pretend it was just for him. That Geralt had wanted to see Jaskier perform. He was miles out of Jaskier’s league, but oh, could he could absolutely dream some very, very sexy dreams.

And then his mortal enemy had been there, and wasn’t that a treat. She’d looked gorgeous. It was unfair. His building was full of beautiful people, all who only tolerated him, were abysmally out of his league, or would eat him for breakfast, if they had the chance. At least fighting with her gave him the excuse to look at her, talk to her. She’d splashed a drink in his face and he’d needed to slip away to the bathroom when they’d finished talking, just to calm himself down. That was unfair. Don’t fuck mages, he reminded himself. Not that she ever would. He’d had at least 6 more drinks after that, just to push the thought away.

He’d thought he’d been doing a bit better, the past few minutes. But clearly, he wasn’t, as he must have been hallucinating.

Before him stood Geralt (gorgeous, fascinating, generous, kind, warm-hearted Geralt), looking a bit dazed himself, as well as The Bitch of the 13th Floor (intriguing, deadly, witty, beautiful). So, his sexual fantasy that he had not until that moment realized existed.

“Oh dear. I’m worse than I thought.”

“Jaskier, what’s wrong?”

“Too much to drink. Now I’m hallucinating.”

Geralt frowned. “What do you see?”

Jaskier pointed to the woman in front of him and then shut his eyes tightly. “Unless… unless it’s a magic thing.”

“No—Jaskier, this is Yennefer. Yennefer, Jaskier.”

Jaskier’s eyes flew open. “You know this woman? Of course you know this woman. So you do have a name!”

“Of course I have a name.”

“I don’t know, maybe mages don’t all have names.”

“You two know each other?”

Jaskier smiled loosely. “That’s my mortal enemy.”

“This is not Valdo Marx.”

“No! Penthouse Lady. Second one.”

“Oh. The Bitch of the 13th Floor.”

“Glad to know I hold a reputation in your circles, Jaskier,” she said lightly. “Though I’m a touch offended I’m only number 2.”

He frowned, and reached out for her arm, and held it lightly, then did the same with Geralt.

“Oh fuck. You are both here.”

“Right. Let’s get you back home.” Carefully, Geralt lifted Jaskier’s arm over his shoulders, and the three began to walk, Yennefer on his other side. They went to walk before he stopped, pulling Jaskier’s arm off him, and bent down.

“What are you--?”

“Your shoe strap is undone,” Geralt explained, before flashing a grin up at her. “I suppose this isn’t what you meant when you told me to kneel.”

“As I recall, I haven’t asked you to do that yet. I was saving it for the bedroom.”

Geralt finished with her shoe and then rose up, and they began walking. “The sticky note. ‘I will make you kneel and fix it yourself’?”

“…You’re the new tenant?! You’re the muddy bastard?!”

“Wait, you two were going to have sex?!” Jaskier whined.

“Let’s not jump to any conclusions.”

“I thought it was ‘Don’t fuck mages’, not ‘Don’t fuck mages unless they’re really hot, then that’s the exception’!”

“I can’t believe this,” Yennefer said. Her world fell apart and clicked into place all at once as they crossed the street. “Oh my god.”

“Did you not know?”

“Of course I didn’t know! You didn’t say how you knew him!”

“Well, there it is,” Geralt sighed. “And Jaskier, don’t just to conclusions, I wouldn’t presume that of her. All I did was buy her apple juice.”

“Now what kind of metaphor is that!”

“The kind that isn’t a metaphor at all.”

“Jaskier, if you say a single word about my apple juice—”

“I’m not saying anything about apple juice! It’s a noble beverage! But your apple juice leads to some implications!”

“And what if it does!” “Well! Well!” Jaskier flustered. “Well! We were going to watch our nature documentary tonight!”

“No we weren’t,” Geralt grumbled.

Jaskier looked at him, hurt. “What?”

“We weren’t going to watch the documentary, Jaskier. You were going to find someone to go home with.”

“I did find someone to go home with!” He said, bumping his hip into Geralt.

“I don’t count,” Geralt muttered, as they finally made it into the building.

“Why don’t you count?”

“Because, Jaskier, you weren’t planning to sleep with me.”

“Says who!”

“Let’s just go to mine,” Yennefer said as they stepped in the elevator. “I don’t want to try and navigate his apartment in the dark. I’m sure it’s a wreck.”

“It’s fine, actually,” Jaskier muttered. “Geralt I know we wouldn’t have slept together, you have standards, but—”

“Well, more like because he was planning on sleeping with me, thank you very much.”

“Watch out, Lady of the Penthouse, or I’ll… write a song about you.”

“Who said I was planning or not planning on sleeping with anyone?”

“You did!”

“I haven’t said anything.”

“That’s the point!”

“So, you two… aren’t sleeping together?”

“What’s your point?!” Geralt demanded, oblivious to Yennefer’s question.

“Well, that’s how you know someone doesn’t want to sleep with you! One of the many ways. They don’t say they do! You’ve made it clear we’re just… you know. Pals.”

“I never said that!”

“That’s what I’m saying!”

“Jaskier, for once in your life, would you say something with some sense?!” “I said, ‘come home with me’! How much more clear do I have to be than ‘I’d rather spend the night with you’?! Actually, frankly, with both of you, this is nice. Loud, but nice. I can’t believe I’m saying this about my sworn nemesis.”

“Now, hold on—”

“Everybody shut up!” Yennefer said, loud enough that the boys shut their mouths. “No more speaking. We will be at my apartment soon. I will be going into my kitchen to get you,” she pointed at Jaskier, “something to ensure you don’t get sick all over the elevator.”

“I’m—I’m feeling a lot better, really,” he said. She made a shushing motion against his lips, and she could feel his hot breath, could sense his heartbeat race faster, watched his cheeks flush. Interesting.

“By the time I’m back, I want you two sorted.” The doors dinged, and they emerged on a landing in front of an intricate white door, which Yennefer opened with a wave of her hand. “I’ll be back in a moment. Just… let me know who Geralt will be kneeling for,” she said, and then walked into the kitchen, heels snapping against the tile.

She looked at her cabinets, opening one and retrieving the bottle she wanted. Well. They’d need more than a few seconds, surely. She placed it carefully on the counter and listened.

“I…” Geralt was saying. “Um.”

“I didn’t… Geralt. I’m sorry. I don’t want to… ruin things.”

“You’re not ruining anything.”

“You’ve hardly shown interest, I know you’re not…”

“I’m bad at these things. Talking. You know that.”

“Okay, then…” Jaskier trailed off, and took a big breath. “Then show me.”

“Show you?”

“What you mean. Or… what you don’t mean. I don’t know. But if there’s… Geralt, if there’s something, anything about me that you want, in that way, I am asking you to show me. It’s fine if not. But… I’m here, I want it, if you do. I mean, I want it either way, really. Have for a bit.”

“…You’re drunk.”

“I won’t be, once Yennefer gets that… thing. And it’ll be the same. I promise.

“I don’t want you regretting anything.”

“How could I regret you? Show me, Geralt. Please.”

“…Show you."

“Yes, yes, please, Geralt. Pl—”

And there was silence. Or, there was the sound of mouths sliding against each other, soft, deep moans reverberating in their chests. She let them have the moment, and then Jaskier gave a soft whine, and she smiled. That was her cue.

She clicked into the foyer, bottle held aloft.

“A gift,” she said, and the two staggered apart, “for my nemesis. Purely because his white wolf brought me apple juice, let it be known. And thank you for the show. Both at the bar and here.” Jaskier stepped toward her and took the bottle.

“I must warn you,” she said, “it tastes like goat piss.” Jaskier popped the cork, and chugged the bottle before making a face.

“How long does it take to— oh, fuck—”

“Pretty instantaneous,” Yennefer said as he grabbed her shoulder to support himself. Geralt came up behind him.

“The room stopped spinning. I didn’t even realize it was spinning,” he frowned. He shook his head for a moment, turned back to Geralt, and grabbed his neck, pulling them to meet in a firm kiss. “See? Meant it.”

“Maybe I need some of that too,” Geralt muttered. “Things are spinning.”

“As much as I enjoy playing cupid,” Yennefer said, taking back the bottle, “it seems as though I’ve been a bit removed from the equation, so you two had best be off, I suppose.”

“Someday, you’ll be won over by my charms,” Jaskier said with a kiss to her knuckles. “But if you two had… plans… I could always wait a night. Unless you’d like both of us in your bed,” he half-joked to her.

“I don’t know how this is happening to me,” Geralt muttered.

“Oh, be careful what you wish for, Jaskier,” she hummed, “you might just get it.”

“Does this mean I’ve won you over?”

“It means I don’t let a good night pass me by.”

“Oh, so you think I’ll be good, you admit that.”

“It means I’m open to you proving me wrong. But I saw you play. You can make good use of those hands. Geralt?”

Geralt was leaning against the wall, staring into the middle distance, looking lost. “I just. A lot has happened. I thought you hated each other?”

“I told you she was gorgeous, I don’t just say things.”

“You do very much just say things.”

“Well, then, someone’s going to have to shut me up.”

Yennefer tilted his head back to face her and pulled him down into a kiss—languid and slow, as one of his arms grabbed her waist and pulled her upwards and to him, just enough that she was standing on tip toe. She ran her hands up his chest, coming to rest around his neck, playing with his hair. He finally pulled away, just to kiss a line down one side of her jaw, sucking a small mark onto her neck.

She looked back at Geralt, still a bit dazed but with a fire behind his eyes. “Well,” she said, detaching herself from Jaskier. “Will you be joining?”

Rather than answer, Geralt took a few steps forward toward her. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her—gentle and almost pleading. They fit together so easily, he thought. He hadn’t ever fit with someone like he had with two people tonight. How had he earned this? How had he made it to this point in his life?

Jaskier was suddenly behind him, kissing his back, running one hand up his chest, the other against Yennefer’s hand, which had reached his shoulder. He couldn’t have all this, could he?

“You think so loudly, Geralt,” Yennefer teased him.

“It’s true,” Jaskier agreed. “Even I hear it, darling.”

“Okay. Then… take me somewhere I don’t have to think.”

Yennefer smiled, took his hand in hers, and Jaskier’s in her other. “I’m glad your place was the bedroom,” Jaskier whispered, “Because honestly, mine would probably be the zoo.”

Yennefer pinched his hand, “Ow! But am I wrong?! You don’t need your brain for the zoo!” and led them on.

x

8:24am

Sunday, April 3rd

16 Messages from Aretuza Takes Novigrad

Coral Lytta — 9 hours ago

okay, thanks for letting us know, yen!!! have fun!!

Fringilla – 9 hours ago

Wait, I’m sorry, were the two people you just went home with the witcher and the musician? The guy you hate?

Sabrina — 9 hours ago

What on earth is happening

Fringilla – 9 hours ago

She didn’t specify which two guys she went home with, but I’m pretty sure I just saw them all leave together.

Sabrina — 8 hours ago

I can’t believe drama is happening without me

Coral Lytta — 7 hours ago

its not drama drama is frin getting the number of someone with a green hair when she specifically said she’d sworn off of green hair for at least a year

Sabrina — 7 hours ago

omfg

Fringilla – 6 hours ago

Coral!! Where are you, I’m not letting you get away with this! They’re cute! You can’t shame me.

Coral Lytta — 5 hours ago

update everyone we got a car home and frin has been texting green hair (jesu) the whole way home if youre reading this its too late for me it was nice knowing u

Sabrina – 3 hours ago

Loving this. Just blew up half a field with Anica. She says hi

Sabrina – 2 hours ago

Hey yen I am seeing this mystery enemy of yours on tiktok people filmed his set

Sabrina – 2 hours ago

He’s hot good job

Sabrina – 2 hours ago

But why is he playing a fucking lute

Coral Lytta – 1 hour ago

morning all yennefer please send pics of ur hot date(s)

Fringilla – 15 minutes ago

Are we not addressing that Sabrina and Anica blew up a field?!

Sabrina — Just Now

Lol

8:24am

Sunday, April 3rd

167 Messages from CITY WITCHERS GETTING LAMBERT (AND GERALT) DATES… Showing 16

Lambert – 10 hours ago

Okay I made him laugh and now I’m in the bathroom what the fuck now??

Eskel – 10 hours ago

Pay for the bill, leave a good tip for that waiter for saving your ass, and then ask him if he wants to go back to yours. You’ve done this before, Lamb.

Coën – 10 hours ago

He’s been flirting with you all night, you’ll be fine.

Lambert – 10 hours ago

Fuck Okay If you never hear from me again it’s because I died of embarrassment

Lambert – 10 hours ago

Bye forever

Eskel – 9 hours ago

Drama queen. Hey Geralt how’s it going?

Coën – 9 hours ago

He’s in it too deep. He probably watched that guy play live and just died.

Lambert – 6 hours ago

Sex is so awesome

Eskel – 6 hours ago

Congrats bro. I’m sleeping now.

Lambert – 6 hours ago

Don’t you wanna hear about how great sex is

Eskel – 6 hours ago

I know it’s great, Lambert. I’ve had sex before

Lambert – 6 hours ago

Are we sure are we super sure you had sex cause like I just had GREAT sex possibly the best

Coën – 6 hours ago

It is two in the morning. I am begging you to shut up

Lambert – 6 hours ago

Put us on silent so I can talk about how great sex is

Lambert – 6 hours ago

Ha beat you to this one Geralt bet you didn’t have sex with someone hot tonight. HA

Lambert – 6 hours ago

Okay gotta go round two bye

8:24am

Sunday, April 3rd

Geralt – 10 hours ago

You coming back to the table?

Geralt – 10 hours ago

If I’m gone when you get back let me know when you get home

Geralt – 10 hours ago

You did really good, Jaskier. I’m proud of you

TikTok – 2 hours ago

You have 25,634 new followers!

TikTok – 1 hour ago

You hit 2.3 million views! Click here to see what people are saying…

Spotify – 15 minutes ago

You have 5,785 new followers and 806,216 new listens on Toss a Coin EP

Maybe: Yennefer – 5 minutes ago

It's Yennefer, send me that selfie of all of us you took, I wanna freak out my group chat

Geralt, Maybe: Yennefer

Maybe: Yennefer – 4 minutes ago

I can’t believe I’m the one doing this, but I guess we need a group chat.

To: Geralt, Maybe: Yennefer

Message: 1 image

Here’s the selfie for you both!! Use it wisely ;)

A Sorceress, A Witcher, and a Handsome Bard Walk into a Bar…

Yennefer – 3 minutes ago

Geralt get me apple juice while you’re up

A Sorceress, A Witcher, and a Handsome Bard Walk into a Bar…

Yennefer – 2 minutes ago

Jaskier, this chat name, you cannot be serious

A Sorceress, A Witcher, and a Handsome Bard Walk into a Bar…

Geralt – Just now

Haha

A Sorceress, A Witcher, and a Handsome Bard Walk into a Bar…

Geralt – Just now

:)

[tangleweave]

Crimson Tide (Drabble / RP)

[ @illbringthechaosmagic ]

An anonymous person has been taunting Stephen that a loved one has been taken captive...

Stephen Strange was not a patient man. He didn't like it when things came slowly, but he had learned how to deal with slow processes, as long as he could be assured of rewards down the line. Even less than slow progress did he like things that threw him off his rhythm. To be interrupted in his work was to invite his wrath, and by the Fates, could he be creative with his wrath.

That had been long before the car accident and the Sorcerer Supreme thing.

But now, the odd woman who had come to him to explain to him, in interestingly explicit terminology, that Wanda was being held prisoner... not only was she an interruption, she was an active irritant. An antagonist? No... not for him. To qualify as an antagonist, there were several things that needed to happen, not the least of which being a need to demonstrate a direct threat. So far she had shown him no evidence that she posed any harm whatsoever, and certainly not within the welcoming room for Kamar-Taj, where two other sorcerers stood at polite but firm attention in the corners.

She was seated in the wooden chair dead center of the room, legs crossed, hands folded in her lap. Her dusky skin and wavy black hair shone in the sunlight that filtered through the ceiling slats. Her accent indicated she wasn't Nepalese, though she could easily be from India or some other adjacent region. She seemed curiously calm for someone in his presence who knew the things he was capable of.

Fine. If she wanted to play mind games, he could play them too. He moved to a cabinet and withdrew a pair of long yellow leather gloves, the cuffs of which were adorned with delicate sigils of black and gold. He had his back slightly turned as he began to don them.

"What now?" he heard her taunt. "Does the great Doctor Strange mean to get blood on his hands?"

He glanced towards her with eyebrow arched as he slid the second glove on. "Obviously not," he said, "otherwise I wouldn't be gloving up."

She thrust her chin out towards him. "You don't frighten me."

"Of course I do. I'm a doctor. Being attended by one is inherently frightening. It means there's something wrong with you. And there must be something deeply wrong with you, in particular, if you thought you were just going to waltz in here, declare that you're holding a friend and ally prisoner, and then not make any demands in exchange for her release." He held up his hands, palms towards himself. "Hadn't you heard? This is Kamar-Taj, where I had my operation to restore function to my hands. These are examination gloves. We don't have the kind of funds needed for single-use non-latex, so we go for longevity instead. After we're done with a particularly... messy... procedure, we use a sodium hydroxide solution to rinse off the pairs we do have. But don't worry, it shouldn't burn your skin too badly, long as I don't touch you for more than a couple seconds."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You are a doctor. Your job is to not harm others."

"Oh, I see." He frowned and tilted his head at her. "Remind me again, what year is it? 2024? That means my medical license lapsed, uh... six years ago. Y'know, shortly after that niggling little part where half the world vanished. And saving all the people that were left over, that was an all-hands-on-deck situation. Things got ugly, if you'll recall. Besides, what do you call it when a surgeon cuts someone open with a scalpel? Surely you would think that was causing harm... but in the pursuit of reducing greater harm, when removing a tumor." He laced his fingers together tightly, securing the gloves about his hands. "Wonder how many you've got." He began slowly stepping towards her.

"There is nothing wrong with me!" she protested, and her legs uncrossed. "I wished to ensure I had your attention before making demands."

"Don't worry, you have it," Stephen assured her. "And you were right about one thing, this doctor doesn't make house calls. So glad to be hosting you today. You're my first patient in months. The last one still hasn't healed up quite right."

"I am no patient!" she said indignantly, shifting in her chair as he continued to advance.

"Then we have something in common, since I'm exactly the opposite of patient," he returned, and he cupped his hands toward each other. A crackling cat's cradle of golden dimensional energy appeared, and when he pulled his hands more broadly apart, it stretched with them. Orange sparks snapped from the strands. Stephen frowned. "Well, what do you know, there's still a little hydroxide solution on the gloves after all." He shrugged. "That's fine, it should all burn off pretty quickly."

She got to her feet. "Your Cauldron of the Cosmos!" she blurted. "It is a relic stolen from the pyramids of Giza--"

Stephen whipped one hand out; the strands of energy wrapped about the woman and sizzled as they touched her, eliciting a shriek. He closed to within inches from her face. "It's an artifact forged by Agamotto the All-Seeing approximately eight thousand years ago. I'd say try again but I don't think your clothes have that kind of time. Where's the submarine?"

A crease formed between the woman's thick eyebrows at the absurd question, but the heat and crackling from the energy whips surrounding her were beginning to convince her of the threat he posed. "I... I don't..."

"Sure, sure, you don't know." He dismissed the whips, then noted the burn scarring on her clothing. "Mmm. That'll be hard to get out. I might know a tailor or two." He gestured at the chair. "Take a seat or that pantsuit's going to look like it went through a king-size waffle iron. And I don't even want to think about what it'll do to your hair."

She glowered at him but did as directed. "What do you mean 'submarine'?" she asked.

"Well, if you don't know where it is, there's not a whole lot of reason for me to explain it to you, is there?" he responded. "Sure makes you look like a schlub, though. Obviously you're not in charge, you're just following directions from whoever it is giving them to you. Whoever they are, they need to up your clothing allowance, and update their K&R policies. It's in my favor, though, they couldn't send an actual professional to negotiate for the Cauldron. I could have given the all-American line... 'I don't negotiate with terrorists.' Definitely what a Sorcerer Supreme dreams of saying to someone." He waved a dismissive hand. "That's fine, though. I've got another movie line I can hand you. 'I've got ways of making you talk.' Impressed?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "I am no amateur. I have been immunized to truth serums and measures intended to force me to speak truth against my will. Even you cannot coerce me."

He scoffed and gave her a mirthless smile. "Truth? Who said anything about that? I want you to lie your ass off."

She frowned. "What...?"

He brought both hands up, fingers twiddling unsteadily in odd snaking motions, and gleaming neon-blue energy appeared in the air between them. His hands didn't meet -- one wrist hovered above the fingers of the other -- but the energy they conjured twisted unevenly in a warbling circle that settled about the chair. The thick strands of plasma braided around one another, and once the circle was fully enclosed, the space within was consumed with fierce blue light.

"A sorcerer of Kamar-Taj would refer to this as a Ring of Raggadorr. But a Dungeons & Dragons player would call it a Zone of Truth... with a Strange twist to it. While you're within it, you can't refrain from answering my questions, but instead of wasting my time trying to figure out whether you can actually resist a Zone of Truth, I've sealed you within a Zone of Lies. You're completely incapable of uttering the truth. And when I ask you questions, whatever the truthful answer is, you'll be giving me precisely the opposite one, or as close to the opposite as you're able." He flourished with one hand. "So, test question, do you know my name?"

"...no." The woman looked flummoxed at the answer coming from her own mouth.

Stephen smirked. "All right then, progress. Now, you're in charge of this operation, aren't you?"

"...yes."

"Where on the ladder are you?"

"The top."

Stephen chuckled. "Oh, honey. They really don't pay you enough for this gig, do they?"

"I am paid extremely generously."

"Yeah, that much is obvious."

She stood up from her chair and tried to take a step forward. The blue light surrounding her crackled much in the manner of a Star Trek forcefield, and she jumped back as if having been shocked. She cast a look at Stephen. "I wish to remain in this space eternally!"

Now Stephen had to raise a gloved hand to hide his widening smirk. "I'm considering it," he quipped. "This is a lot more fun than I imagined."

"I am also enjoying it immensely!" she shouted.

He poked a finger at her. "Try saying it with a sarcastic bend to it, if you can, I wanna see how deep this spell goes. Does it affect just your words? You're yelling so I can tell you're agitated, at least."

"I am not agitated! I am free to walk out of this enclosure at any time and I do not fear your powers!" She crossed her arms under her chest and glowered at the floor.

"Well, if this isn't a reflection of parenthood, I don't know what is," Stephen remarked. "But while this is entertaining, I have some actual work to do. So let's talk submarines. Your bosses work out of one, don't they?"

"...no."

"I see. And if I looked all over the world for it, there's only one place I would never find it. Where is that place?"

"...the Laurentian Abyss."

He arched an eyebrow at her. "Are you telling me that I can find the submarine in the Laurentian Abyss?"

"No, that is not what I am telling you."

Stephen had to try very hard not to crack a smile. "How very Red October of you. I think the Cauldron of the Cosmos can probably help me along from here... though I'm curious why you would even want it at all. Is there anybody among your employers and co-workers in this little venture that could even use it?"

"To the best of my knowledge, everyone there could. The Cauldron is of no particular fascination or consequence to my employers. They are not at all fascinated by its purported abilities. They would prefer to have Wanda, as a person is far more stable a commodity than an inanimate object. Should you refuse to surrender the Cauldron, my employers are not prepared to brainwash her for their purposes."

He scoffed. "Thought so. You know, you actually make it a lot more convincing now that you can't even say it properly. Should've tried it like this before, you'd have gotten my attention even sooner. Tell you what, you can hang out here while I get this problem sorted out." He turned toward the east hall, which would eventually lead him to the portal door that connected to the New York Sanctum.

"Wait!"

He turned back to her with his eyebrow up again. "Yes, what?"

"I do not wish to know how you knew of the submarine."

This time both eyebrows went up and he rubbed his temple. "Vishanti help me, I'm actually starting to get used to this," he muttered. Then he looked at her more directly. "It's not what you lied about, it's what you told me truthfully. You said straitjacket and shock collar. That's how Wanda was kept secured when she was a prisoner aboard the Raft. The only people who would know that was a successful method are people who saw it in action. But the Raft is stationary. Eventually someone would come knocking. The only way to keep a prisoner like her off the radar is to keep her moving. And aboard an underwater craft, even if she breaks loose, where would she go? Especially as far down as the Laurentian Abyss. So... submarine made the most sense."

The crease in her brow only deepened further. "I understand completely how you were able to make such deductions."

"Yeah, sometimes I even amaze myself." He glanced to the other two sorcerers in the room, then gestured at the woman. "Make her comfortable while she's waiting. But you're welcome to have a little fun with that spell while it's still active."

Without another word, he stalked his way up the hall and found the entrance to the New York Sanctum. A variety of obstacles to the matter at hand pervaded his thought process. If the submarine was indeed in the Laurentian Abyss, it meant that it was so deep, opening a direct portal to its interior would be a death sentence to anyone aboard; the bends would see to that. It needed to be forced to surface, and its own crew made to decompress the interior. He chewed his lower lip in thought. How would he get them to do that?

He was five steps away from the Cauldron when he stopped in place and rolled his eyes. Duh. He'd seen the damn movie. Simulate a radiation leak. It's not as if he was a Master of the Mystic Arts and claimed control over a vast breadth of energies.

"Thank you, Tom Clancy," he murmured as he approached the artifact.

[glamrockmonarch]

The Land That Our Grandchildren Knew (B!Reader x Brian May)

THIS WORK IS PART OF THE ORIGINAL TIMELINE

Requested: NO

Type: SFW, FLUFF ?, ANGST.

Summary: A little glance at life back to normal after Brian and B!Reader get over the cheating scandal.

Warnings: None.

A/N: So this came out of nowhere in my mind. I have struggled with being creative for a while and I just do not know why(?) but here we are! I hope someone out there enjoys reading this one.

*For anyone who does not remember (lol it has been a while): B!Reader (often B!R) is "Brian!Reader", and R!Reader (or R!R) is "Roger!Reader".

“The one thing he did not know was how much I loved him. In a previous life, in a time when things were so much more complicated. When war was splitting us apart and leaving us breathless. Motionless in a world of aggressive turmoil. There was little we could do when everything was amiss. All around us things were blowing up, giving in upon themselves the buildings fell, and the cities died along with their lights and spectacles.

“The love I grew and nurtured for him was the last reminding power of the old Earth, scattered through the cosmos like dust as I searched for him in a ridiculous journey. I did not meet a king in a tiny planet, and I never saw a rose grow on the dry lands of the foreign space countries. We had each other but time made it so that I was here today while he was here yesterday. Today was never ours, today was a promise we believed and ate up and followed with blind eyes until the moment when the sound of truth, deafening and cruel, locked us out of each other’s life. And still, forever, my love for him is true and enduring. Out there, I know he will feel my presence in the air, see me in the clouds, savour me in the smell of rain and grass. He will miss me when the night is cold, and the sound of wind reminds him of my voice… Yes, he will be empty when he hears the silence, the way I will always feel too when I look back at Earth and regret every second spent away from the one who called me Venus.”

The crowd claps and smiles and I see the people in the front look at the books in their hands with expressions of confusion and deep thought. A good reason to write something is to make people wonder, so for B!Reader this one was a success. She had taken so long to finish the manuscript, not that she was being lazy; with the scandal of Brian cheating and the twins taking sides, it was hard to focus on this. This book was not what she intended on writing when she began doing research for it. It started with the Irish War of Independence, she went around Britain meeting historians with much better understanding and knowledge on the topic. It soon turned upside down when the news appeared on every single form of media… Brian’s stunt. She would call it what it was now; he had cheated.

It was hard to get over it. B!Reader took time off with her mother in Scotland, she had taken the kids with her, much to Brian’s displeasure, but he was in no position to complain. When she came back home, she was still defeated by the details. Brian’s lame explanation sounded more like an excuse but even she had to admit that her husband did not have the best track record when it came to women. She was probably the one he had been the most loyal to at that point – even when he had cheated on her once.

So, she tried. They sought professional help. A therapist. First couple’s therapy, and then one-on-one sessions alone. She hated every second of it, which could not have been fun to hear for their therapist. Nothing seemed to be helping, in fact B!Reader talked to a lawyer in secret… but her career was also on the line at that point, and she was desperate for ideas, desperate to reconnect with the only man she ever truly and completely loved. Her manager had the idea, “read some of Brian’s stuff, maybe ask him about his PhD work, maybe he will inspire you and if he doesn’t at least you will have spoken to each other… it’s worth a try”. And so B!R did that, although not in the way her manager had meant. She was stirring her on the direction of reading some of his lyrics not his space dust thesis… Nevertheless, the story began there.

B!R could not understand much, and she wound up spending a lot of time talking about physics and space with her husband. Brian was a patient teacher, she already knew that, but it was now being confirmed to her. He was also happy to be able to go on and on for hours, the topics where his cup of tea, and they had numerous cups of tea too while B!R took notes and began toying with a historical fantasy mix for her next book.

Today she was reading from her favourite chapter in the book. It had been a massive hit; one she could not quite understand. If she was being honest, the book was more like therapy for her than her actual therapy sessions had been. She cried while writing it and poured a lot of emotion into it, which she rarely did. Her writing had always been more …impersonal, presented almost as a sort of biography of fictional characters rather than real moving parts of the imaginary world they were living in.

She had never written such an odd story before, with time skips and a weird space journey concepts implanted in the middle of 1920 Ireland.

“You did great, mum.” A proud Fred wrapped his arm around her middle.

Even though the teen boy was still that, a teenager, he managed to already stand a couple centimetres taller than his own mother.

“Thank you love, did you get anything of that?” She wondered, wrapping her arm around him in the familiar way a mother does.

Arm around his shoulder, soft play of the tender fingers on the dark curls on the back of the head of her “little boy”.

“Nothing at all,” he smiled and shrugged, honesty dripping in shameless glee from his tone. “But that’s the cool part, I don’t think anyone gets it.” The younger of the twins looked at his mother up and down in her bright blue dress. “Except Dad. Was that the point?”

B!Reader looked at her son and inhaled a deep long breath, which she held for a moment. Her brows furrowed and her mouth moved like that of a fish.

“Maybe.” She conceded.

“Hey mum, would you sign my book?” Harry interrupted, bringing along Jazz and a peculiarly uninterested Max.

Harry gave his mother a wide smile and put a copy of her own book in her hands.

“For Harry, please.”

“Dork,” Max rolled his eyes.

He was the only one to admit he had not finished the book yet the previous weekend when Fred mentioned his mother was doing a reading at a local bookstore while they sat by the Taylor’s pool. And he rushed to get through it. Max was not dumb, and he managed to grasp some of the concepts in the complicated plot, although he did not let on to any of his friends.

“Loved the wormhole bits Mrs May.” Max said once Harry had his signed copy reading for Harry with Love. “That dark hole and the speed of dark and light near the end were mind-blowing. I never thought of you as a fantasy writer!”

B!Reader nodded and blushed at the compliments. Max was a lot like Roger in that he did know how to make a girl blush with what appeared to be little effort.

“I am glad you liked it,” she said, a trace of pride in her voice.

“I really wish Darragh and Conor had ended up together,” Jazz voiced from around Harry’s tall lean and awkward teen figure. “They were obviously meant for each other.”

Fred had been in tears when he read the ending of the book. Of course, he would have hoped for his mother’s first queer paring to end together but what that did was echoing life.

“You have to be the eighth person who’s said that to me today.”

R!Reader, Roger and Brian were in a conversation of their own next to the long table B!Reader was about to sit before to meet some fans and sign as many copies of her book as time allowed.

She eyed the silver hair on her husband’s hair, she had been discreet when describing Darragh in her book. A tall, talented, middle-aged, idealist Irish man. A man born in a difficult time. A man who fell in love by mistake, with Conor. A young man described often as immature, who enjoyed a quiet life on board of a spaceship when he got caught up in a black hole and wound up going back hundreds of years and miles into the past. Conor had almost been killed in his attempts of helping his beloved Darragh in fighting what he considered to be hiswar. The battles gave their relationship meaning, although it was never spoken about between them. The adoration was always palpable and present to the last page. Down to the moment when Conor acknowledges that his lover cannot come with him once he finds the way back into his ship, and then it turns into a matter of will. Darragh is revealed to have a similar story, only that… he was left stranded in 1905 with no way back to his ship. “The voice of Venus” was really a metaphor for B!Reader. A complicated one, as her feelings were when she had to love the man who broke her heart. She felt lost the way Conor felt, but she could tell Brian had been lost for a while before the entire ordeal – defeated in the same manner as Darragh. And it was fitting, he was older, he was educated. He should have known better than to play in the physics lab with those dangerous materials. Brian should have known better than to play with that old woman. Conor could have turned his back on Darragh, he knew he was of no help now that he was so invested in the past – now their present. He knew Darragh and himself would never be able to be together if he stayed and they would most likely get killed if they marched on. So B!Reader made them split. She was about to leave Brian when she started writing her book, so it made sense. And when she realised, she did not want to end her marriage, she still wrote it that way because this was the ending she had seen coming for herself before – one she fortunately managed to evade, which still was the ending for many couples.

B!Reader watched the teens as they began discussing the book, Max and Jazz were defending the plot, Fred joined in and the three of them seemed to be getting passionate about proving Harry wrong. The eldest of the group was stubborn about his stance on Conor being right to leave Darragh.

His mother could not help but remember that same stubbornness from the first few weeks after the story broke. Harry had been the one to take it the hardest. When they packed for Scotland, she had to stop him from shattering his project guitar, the yellow guitar he and Brian had been working on for a while. “I don’t want it! I do not want anything from him! He is a liar!” He had yelled, with the side of his face still reddened from a slap he received from Brian. She still could not believe she managed to stay impartial at that moment after the mess that had happened in the kitchen when Harry insulted his father – earning a slap from him.

“It’s alright,” B!Reader placed her arm around the twins’ shoulders. “Conor had to go back anyway. He had a family in the spaceship.”

“What?” Jazz was the first one to open her mouth.

With a laugh, the young writer looked at the confused faces around her. “He could never stay…” She shrugged.

Harry’s expression flashed with a difficult emotion, which both Jazz and his mother noticed.

The short girl flipped her long blonde hair and checked the time on her phone, “no wonder I’m hungry! Who’s coming?” Her blue eyes searched around in an almost innocent manner.

“You got to be joking, we JUST ate.”

Max stepped back from his sister and Fred followed, “sorry, I told dad I’d get lunch with him.”

Blue eyes flipped onto Harry’s figure. B!Reader gave him a squeeze and let go, the sigh he let out being enough of an answer for Jazz to show a large smile, reaching out to grab his hand and pull her to her side. It almost seemed a pass of the baton.

The boy walked taller than Jazz and still, it looked like he was the smaller child. She was sure they had been doing a good job as parents, although that slipdid a number on Harry. The curly haired boy pulled the glass door open and let Jazz go first, only to have her childishly cling on to his arm once they were outside, a smile breaking his serious expression when his young friend told him something – they were too far for B!Reader to make out what Jazz said.

“Where are those two going?” Brian walked up to her.

He had a cardboard cup of coffee in his hand, which he offered to her. With a mumble she took it and had a testing sip – it was too bitter, but it would do. “Nando’s. Probably.” She gave her husband a soft smile.

Brian nodded in silence, a reflective look on his face.

“He needs some time, Bri.” She guessed what he was thinking about.

“It’s been a year,” he said with caution.

“He is getting over it, love.” She took a step closer to Brian and whispered, “he’s picked up the guitar again.” They shared a look before someone called for B!Reader and she left her husband with a peck on the cheek.

[capriciouscartographer]

The Library At the End of the World, Chapter 9

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“Well, well, someone remains alive in the library. Fascinating.” The voice that called out from behind Syl was unlike the only other voices she’d heard in her life, limited as those may have been. It had a strange, soft quality, like the rustling of pages in a book, yet seemed to fill the entire room without volume. Syl nearly dropped the journal she’d been reading and whirled in place to see the speaker.

           And see them she did. Tall, elegant, dressed in clothes that held no tear or tatter. Syl thought, from the scraps of magazines she’d seen, that they might be dressed in something called a suit, but it was impossible for her to know for sure. Their hair was stark white, like the paint beneath the dust on some of the upper floors of the library, and their eyes were the color Syl imagined the sea to be from the pictures she’d seen as a child. Long-fingered hands splayed gracefully atop a table as the figure idly glanced about them.

           “My, my but this place is a mess, isn’t it? Tch, and I had thought the humans might get it right this time. Ah well, one lost bet and all that. Hmm? You seem a bit dumbstruck, girl. And more than a bit tattered. Well, come then, speak, speak, ask your questions!” The figure flashed a smile that put a pit into Syl’s stomach, though she couldn’t quite say why.

           As though drawn by some inexorable force she couldn’t understand — in fact it was her own curiosity more than anything — Syl stepped toward the well-dressed figure in the library. In the vault. The only other person, if they were a person, she’d seen in more than ten years.

           “What are you?” her voice croaked and cracked from ill use, despite her somewhat regular singing and humming to herself. Her tongue tried to resist forming words, tried to stop her from conversation in protest for the lack thereof.

           “Well, what a sensible young person, I must say! Most start with ‘how did you get here, what do you want,’ you know, the boring, standard drivel.” The figure smiled again, though this one did not make Syl feel sick to her stomach.

           “I am… mmm, what will you understand… You have read all of the books of this library, yes?”

           “M… most of them, I think.”

           That smile again. Syl shrank back a few steps.

           “Good. Then perhaps you will understand better than I had feared. I am, for lack of a better term — mortals, so good at making up words, so bad at describing anything properly — an entity of power. Neither god nor devil, I… hmm. Well, let us simply say that the actions of you mortals necessitated my existence, shall we? But really, I’m just an editor.”

           “An editor?”

           “Ah, of course, I shouldn’t be surprised. Always ones for avoiding credit, your mortal editors were. We… change the stories. Make them more than what they were, or less than they could be, depending on what is needed. You people used them for your stories, to make them… better. We do the same thing, on a… slightly grander scale.”

           “There’s more than one of you?”

           “There used to be. Alas for our jobs, you mortals ensured that your stories would come to an abrupt, painful end. Except for you, you fascinating creature you. You found the journals. You found the vault. You read the stories. And so, here I sit.”

           “But… why? I don’t understand. I don’t understand any of this.” Syl fought back the panic and urge to run and leave the vault and the library far behind. To give it to this… creature.

           “Oh very well, I shall explain. Well, some of it, at least. You have read the stories of how the world came to be, yes?”

           “Yes.”

           “Good. Then you know that mortals, your people, believed in powers greater than themselves shaping the cosmos. They were not entirely wrong, though they fell out of that belief as they grew in knowledge. You see, every life is a story, every choice is a mark upon a page that cannot be seen or read by mortal eyes. And some lives, some stories are more… important than others. But the problem with the writing of a story is that sometimes the author gets it wrong. The wrong word here, the wrong phrase there. For a mortal story, that matters little and nothing will be changed. For the lives of mortals, particularly those who discovered the old magics, that could be… catastrophic. Imagine, if you will, if someone with the power to reshape the world, used the wrong phrase to do so. What would become of the world then?”

           “So you… fixed those mistakes?”

           “In a manner of speaking, yes. We helped ensure that the stories these lives were telling were the stories they intended. The fixed their misspellings, so to speak.”

           “Then… how did the world die?” Syl asked, confused.

           The editor smiled. “We are not the authors of the stories, only the ones that ensure the stories can be told. We fixed mistakes, we did not rewrite the lives, nor the choices. Mortals, of all the creatures who have ever lived in the cosmos, are that special breed allowed to choose their own destinies, and destructions, as the case may be.”

           “So… you just… let all this happen?” The question did not carry the venom it might have from one who had known what the world was like before it fell.

           “Mmm…” the editor paused. “Let implies that I, or any of us, had the power to stop it. We might have been able to change its direction, but in the end, the stories written by the lives of mortals were going to be told. One way or another. Our intervention would only have prolonged the inevitable.”

           Syl paused, still shaken by the presence of this… person in her library.

           Eventually, however, she managed to speak again.

           “Why are you here?”

           The editor smiled again, flashing teeth that did not fit into their mouth. Syl suppressed a shudder.

           “Why, for you of course. You read the journals. Did you think I would not be watching the last human in the last library? Why, you’re practically the only interesting thing happening down here these days.”

           “So… you want something from me?”

           “Well… in a manner of speaking, perhaps. You see, you’re the last story that will ever be told. At least, by humans. Who knows, perhaps in a few million years, I’ll have a job again. Regardless, that puts you in a somewhat unique position. Particularly because your story is… well, frankly, rather boring when looked at only by your own actions. After all, you’ve spent all your life stuck in the library reading books. But that, of course, is the very reason you are interesting.”

           “I don’t understand.”

           “No, of course you don’t. You, dear girl, are practically a library yourself. A repository for all the stories left behind by the human race. All locked up in the head of yours. Some of them half remembered, some of them burned there for the rest of your life. When all of this is gone,” the editor waved a hand vaguely, “the stories could live on. If you did.”

           Syl thought a long moment about her response before opening your mouth. “You’re… offering something? An escape?”

           The editor smiled. “An opportunity.”

[cozy-the-overlord]

Dances and Daggers

Summary:   The Summer Festival is upon Asgard, as is the tradition of the dagger ceremony, where each unmarried gentleman chooses a lady to bestow with the honor of carrying his dagger for the night. As Prince Thor’s betrothed, Teki’s only goal is to accept his dagger with grace and hope that her violent stepfather doesn’t find fault with her in the process. But Prince Thor is unpredictable, and when he ignores his engagement on a whim Teki finds herself in a desperate situation. Luckily, Thor isn’t the only prince in Asgard…

Pairing: Loki x Original Female Character

Chapter 7: The Gatekeeper

Previous Chapter |  Next Chapter

Word Count: 2,044

Chapter Summary:  A trip across the Rainbow Bridge seems in order.

Thanks for reading! :)

TW: mentions of child abuse

Tags: @lucywrites02 @gaitwae

if you want to be tagged, just send me an ask! :)

Read it on Ao3!

“It doesn’t mention anything about him leaving at all?”

Teki shook her head. “No, nothing.”

She and the prince were huddled in one of the back tables of the library, flipping through the pages of her father’s journal in search of some kind of clue. Teki had wondered if Loki would even be interested in continuing to help her—her life was such a mess, she didn’t see why anyone would want to willingly jump in—but he seemed just as eager to find her father as she was.

Although, neither of them had any idea as to where to start.

Loki had suggested beginning with the journal, since that was their main lead. “If he wrote in it every day, then he probably mentioned something about leaving, right?” he asked. “That couldn’t have been a decision he took lightly.”

Teki thought so as well, but the more she looked, the more it appeared that her father had done nothing of the sort. When he wasn’t writing ballads, it seemed the only thing he wrote about was her.

Teki and I went into town today to watch the parade. She was ecstatic—especially fascinated by the violinists. She’s been dancing around the room, pretending to play violin all night long. She says that she wants to learn, and I have half a mind to start teaching her. After all, she’s picked up the piano like it was nothing. Such a musical heart—I’m so proud of her.

Seeing her name—her nickname, that is—written in her father’s handwriting took her back to the letter he had left behind, the one that dissolved his marriage and rejected her as his daughter.

My dear Tekla…

That letter had been in the box too, along with several other letters he had exchanged with her mother before they were married. Rereading it for the first time since he had left, Teki was once again struck with the belief that there was something dubious about her father’s message. The whole thing was so stilted, so emotionless. It felt… it felt scripted. As if his hand was only transcribing another’s words.

And he called her Tekla.

Next to her, Loki sat straight up. “Why, we don’t have to look through all this!” he cried. “I can’t believe I hadn’t thought of this before!”

She frowned in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“Heimdall!” Loki stood, grinning. “He sees everyone in the universe. We can just ask him where your father is.”

Teki’s heart stuttered. The Gatekeeper stood at the edge of the Bifrost, eyes that protected Asgard from the threats that lurked beyond. Asking him to check for her father seemed… disrespectful. “Are we—are we allowed to do that?”

The prince laughed. “Why wouldn’t we be?” He pulled her to her feet. “Come on, let’s go!”

“I—now?”

“Why not?” He hesitated. “Unless—if you’d prefer, I could just—”

“No.” Teki inhaled. Loki was right. This could be the best way to find her father. It was time she got over her fear of … everything. She took his hand. “Let’s go.”

…

They rode out to the Rainbow Bridge together on Loki’s horse. It was… a bit odd, to be sharing the reins with someone, but Teki didn’t have her own horse and wasn’t keen to wait for the stable hands to pick one out for her. It wouldn’t have even mattered anyways, because they didn’t have any sidesaddles on hand, and Teki knew that in the time it would have taken her to change into slacks, she would have talked herself out of going at all. Instead, she found herself perched awkwardly in the front of Loki’s nightmare black mare, Brynja.

“You—you can still see, right?” she asked as Loki shifted in the saddle behind her.

He hummed in affirmation. “Um—I think—” his hand fluttered stiffly at her waste. “Would it be alright if I—if I held on to you?” Teki twisted around to see his cheeks were bright pink. It reminded her of the night of his Nameday Feast, when she had to ask him to lace her dress up, and her face flushed as well.

Loki coughed. “Just so you don’t fall off,” he added quickly. “Apologies, it’s just that I’ve never ridden like this, and—”

“No, it’s fine,” she interrupted quietly. “You can… hold on to me.” For a moment, Loki didn’t move. Then, very slowly, he brought his arm to rest across her stomach, holding her to his torso. Teki forgot how to breathe.

“Ready?” he whispered, the little puff of breath ticking her hair. She giggled, nodding. With a click of his tongue, Loki spurred the horse forward. Teki was soon grateful for his arm at her waist, because she was certain that without it, she would’ve gone flying when they shot forward like a cannonball.

“Oh!”

She had never ridden across the Bifrost before. Teki could only cling to Brynja’s mane and try not to scream as colors whizzed across her vision, speeding high above the rolling waves of the Asgardian ocean. Loki shouted something, but she couldn’t hear him above the wind roaring in her ears.

By the time they had reached Himinbjorg, she was panting as if she had been the one racing for miles. Loki laughed.

“Have you never galloped before?”

She bristled. “I’ve galloped.” But riding horseback had never been one of Teki’s favorite hobbies, and she felt Loki could tell.

Smiling, he jumped to the ground, helping her slide down as well and offering her his arm. “Let’s go.”

She took it haltingly. “We—we just go in?” she asked. “Don’t we have to… announce ourselves?”

Loki laughed again. “He sees everything! He already knows we’re here.”

“Wait.” Teki froze. “Everything? He sees everything? Even—” Even Osvald?

For a moment, the prince seemed confused, but realization flashed across his face.

“Yes, but Heimdall doesn’t interfere with what he sees, not unless there’s significant threat to Asgard,” he reassured her. Something dark passed across his face. “Not even when he should.”

Teki swallowed. Loki had so far honored his promise to keep what he knew of her family’s dynamic to himself, but he made no secret of the fact that he thought she should tell some higher authority. He was convinced that Osvald could be stopped by someone like his mother. Teki wished she shared his optimism.

Walking into Himinbjorg was like stepping into a whole other world. The spherical walls glowed with an archaic power that seemed to vibrate through her every fiber. The very air seemed to have a different taste, as if flavored by the intricacies of the cosmos. She needed no knowledge of the Bifrost to understand this was sacred ground.

In the middle of the room, a figure stood on the raised platform still as a statue, a golden silhouette cutting through the multicolored stains of the galactic skyline. The curved horns of his helmet glistened in the starlight, completely motionless as Teki and Loki entered.

The prince inhaled. “Good Heimdall,” he said. His voice had taken on a very grandiose tone, and Teki had to suppress the urge to laugh. “We wish to ask a favor—”

Heimdall turned, and the urge died almost instantly. The watcher of the worlds was an imposing form. His helmet cast his face in shadow as he stepped forward, his intricate golden armor echoing the design of the hilt of the giant sword he clutched in his hands. But it was his eyes that sent shivers down her spine. His deep orange irises bored deep into soul, as if he was seeing things about her that she didn’t even know herself. She quickly dropped her eyes to the ground.

When he spoke, it was in a deep baritone that boasted of ancient wisdom. “I know why you’re here.” Even when she wasn’t looking, she felt the weight of his stare. “Lady Tekla. I cannot give you that for which you search.”

“We only wish to know the whereabouts of her father.” Loki interjected. “Steinn—” he looked to Teki questioningly.

“Kjellson,” she whispered. “Steinn Kjellson.” She pulled her gaze from the metal floor, forcing herself to meet his piercing eyes. “Do—do you know where he is?”

He was still looking at her, studying her intently as if she were a piece in an art display. Teki realized suddenly that he had not looked at Loki once since they arrived at Himinbjorg. She squirmed.

“I know of whom you speak,” he said finally. “But it is not my place to speak on the matter.”

“What do you mean?” Loki demanded, frowning. “Is your place not to serve Asgard, and her royal family?” He motioned towards Teki. “She is to be your Queen.”

Heimdall’s gaze didn’t waver. “You’re not asking the right question,” he said directly to her.

“I—what?” What right question? Flickers of irritation began to burn at her nerves. “Can’t you see him?” she asked.

Heimdall only stared.

She scowled. “I haven’t seen my father in years!” she snapped. “Can you at least tell me if he’s safe?”

“You’re not asking the right question,” he repeated.

With a huff, she turned to Loki. “This is a waste of time. He’s not helping us.” The prince nodded, glaring at Heimdall.

“It’s time we left,” he agreed. He held her hand as they stormed out of the building together.

Even as Loki helped her back on to Brynja’s back, Teki felt the gatekeeper’s gaze entrapping her in its scope. She turned around to find that Heimdall had not budged an inch from where they left him, orange eyes piercing hers. She balked.

You’re not asking the right question.

But what other question was there to ask? All she wanted to know was where her father had went. What other way could she ask that? Teki glowered as Loki pulled himself into the saddle.

“I’m sorry Teki,” he was saying. “I really thought he could help.”

“You were right,” she mumbled bitterly. “He could help. He just didn’t.”

Loki sighed, urging Brynja forward, but not too fast yet. “We’ll have to try something else,” he mused. “You said your father used to work as a court musician?”

“Yes. He quit when he married my mother.” Teki pulled at her sash. When she was little, she had always imagined what it would be like to be the daughter of a court musician, what it would be like to not have to worry about curtseys or tea time, to spend her days helping her father prepare for his performances. She had always felt he wished he hadn’t had to leave the musical troop, picked up on the longing even though he did his best to mask it.

“It’s a good thing I’m not in the troop anymore,” he had joked wistfully with her once, after she had finished playing one of his piano pieces without sheet music for the first time. “You’d have me right out of a job!”

Back in the present, Loki seemed to be engrossed in some idea. “Do you know any of his fellow players?” he asked.

Teki frowned. “No. By the time I was born he wasn’t involved with them anymore.” She turned around to face the prince. “Why?”

His face was scrunched up in thought. “Well, maybe they know something,” he said. “If they were close enough, they may have some idea as to where he went. We can check the court records, figure out who was with him when he was working.”

She cocked her head to the side. “You know, there might be something there.” The bitterness in her throat from their visit with Heimdall begin to melt away. She smiled shyly at the prince. “Thank you.”

Loki let out an embarrassed chuckle. “For what?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Everything. Helping me.” Her cheeks were burning. Why was she always such a failure when it came to speaking?

But Loki didn’t seem to mind. “Of course.” He leaned forward to wrap his arm around her waist once more. “Are you ready to go?”

She nodded, unable to hold in her squeal as they shot out once more across the Rainbow Bridge.

[ozai-the-bonsai]

Ghost In The Dark (Valtor x OC)

Link to Chapter 5:

Time Line: Chapter 6 is set during the day Tecna closes the portal connecting Andros and The Omega Dimension.

Rating: M

Warnings for Chapter 6: Sexual content ;)

*6* Give Into The Temptations

(Word Count: 3610)

Valtor rose from his seat and walked in front of the desk with slow steps “It took a little more than a day for you to win back your throne,” he spoke with a rather thoughtful voice “Either the Ancient Witches have been clearly underestimating you, or they have forgot how to play.”

Hel licked her lips with a seductive manner, the red lipstick didn’t inhabit her lips anymore “In both cases, it is equally disgraceful and lethal for them.” she said and nudged Alowix’ floating figure with her right elbow “I must admit, though, he wasn’t an easy win –in my absence he knew how to take advantage of the Underworld.”

It seemed like Alowix was trying to say something; however, the only voices that could be heard were the muffled sounds coming from him. With a frown on her face, Darcy asked “What’s wrong with him?”

Hel casted an evil look at her over her shoulder “He was making a little too much noise on our way to the Cloud Tower,” she began to explain as a smirk spread on her lips “So I cut his tongue.”

Darcy went pale straight away, Icy simply turned her eyes away in disgust and Stormy gagged “This is gruesome!” she said, causing Hel to shrug indifferently as she turned her grey eyes to the sorcerer in front of her. Without uttering any other words, the Trix left the office and went to their bedrooms, leaving the two alone.

The moment Hel saw the intense look Valtor was giving her, the smirk on her lips grew more. Of course, he has always found it attractive when I let the darkness take over me, Hel thought while she eyed him in an obviously hungry way –even though she hadn’t slept for more than two days and felt overmuch tired, all she could think about at that particular moment was the heat which was beginning to grow inside her.

Valtor leaned the desk as he crossed his arms over his chest “How’s the current situation in the Underworld?” he asked, apparently he was trying to distract himself from the dirty thoughts wandering in his head.

“It could have been worse,” Hel responded while she snapped the fingers of her right hand. A thin thread of shadows flew to her hand “Seems like I’ve chosen my latest kings –by latest I mean the ones I’ve chosen sixteen years ago,” While speaking, she was moving the fingers of her right hand so that the shadows were slithering between them very much like a black snake “A big majority of them have stayed loyal to me in my absence and haven’t let Alowix take control of everything.”

Valtor raised an eyebrow at her direction “And what about the traitor minority?” he asked even though he knew very well what her answer was going to be. He just wanted to hear those words from all because once such things were spoken, they became more real, and, in this case, darker.

The shadow thread moving between Hel’s fingers transformed into a dark dagger “I killed them all,” she responded, despite the low pitch of her voice, her words easily reached Valtor’s ears. As she walked behind the floating figure of Alowix, the skirt of her dress lifted off the ground as if there was a special breeze flowing around her “One by one, with no mercy.” Holding Alowix from his blonde hair, Hel slowly pulled his head back so that his neck was exposed. His chest was going up and down so fast as if his fear of death could materialise any moment “They have made great examples, now everybody knows the fate of those who dare betray the Queen of the Underworld.”

Valtor ran his right hand through his blonde hair, Hel knows what she is doing, he thought while his grey eyes followed her movements. She is playing us both, just like a lioness playing with her prey. With Alowix, she wants to feel every bit of his fear and desperation before killing him with her own hands. And with me, she wants to slowly savour my growing desire for her.

Upon feeling the cold blade of the dagger caressing his cheek, Alowix began to make muffled sounds once again “Shh, baby, don’t be afraid,” Hel spoke with a seductive and dangerous tone, which freaked out her prey even more “I’ll make it quick, I promise.”

As she placed the dagger on his throat, Hel turned her eyes to Valtor “The Ancient Witches still see everything you see, don’t they?” she asked.

The sorcerer thought for a moment before nodding “If they wish to, yes.” he said “Why?”

The edge of Hel’s lip curled upwards “Perfect, then they’ll probably see me killing their puppet as well.” she said but her next words were not directed at Valtor, instead her aim was the Ancient Witches “You’ll be next, ladies. Take a good look at this.”

And with a swift movement, she cut Alowix’ throat. The moment life left his blue eyes, his corpse fell onto the ground. The blood spilling from where the dagger had cut painted Hel’s hands, arms and dress red; however, this didn’t seem to bother her even the slightest. All her attention was fixed on Valtor and judging by her darkened eyes, her mind had immediately wandered to different things.

The black dagger decayed into its origins –the shadows –as Hel took big steps towards the sorcerer. Valtor straightened and he, too, walked towards Hel. The moment she was within his reach, he pulled her into his arms and crashed his lips into hers. The blood on her body was leaving stains on his maroon-coloured jacket but at that moment, he didn’t give a damn.

The kiss was hard, passionate and hot. It was so hot that even though the dress on her was quite revealing and thin, Hel felt her whole body burning under Valtor’s touch. She wanted him right then and there; however, she had one last thing to do that night before her duties as the Queen were over.

Still, there’s no harm in exciting him more, is there?

As Hel let Valtor slide his tongue into her mouth, her right hands wandered down on his body until reaching the waistband of his trousers. The sorcerer gasped instinctually upon feeling Hel’s hand stroking his erection on the fabric of his trousers. However, before things could gain even more heat, Hel broke the contact of their lips and took a step back, leaving Valtor in a puzzled state.

“I want you, too, as much as you want me but there is still one last thing that needs to be done with him.” Hel explained while she motioned Alowix’ lifeless body lying on the floor with her head “After cleaning myself, I’ll be heading to the connection point between this world and the Underworld.” As she snapped her fingers, the corpse began to fly behind her. The dark haired woman blew a kiss at Valtor before leaving the office “You know where to find me, darling, so don’t be late, will you?”

***

The sound of branches being broken under someone’s steps cut through the eerily peaceful silence of the midnight. Since she was expecting a visitor, Hel didn’t bother changing her position as she continued sitting cross-legged in the air while the light of the full moon shone on her –she was flying a few feet above the ground. She had taken off her high-heeled, red pumps and her crown was safe in her room back in the Cloud Tower.

It was a bright night and simply moonlight was enough to provide sight.

To the north of the Cloud Tower was a huge graveyard by the name Forgotten Necropolis –just as the name indicated, the place was completely forgotten. It was an ancient graveyard but it’s main function was being the connection point between the Underworld and the world of the living. It was the only place on this part of the cosmos which brought ease to Hel since she felt her powers growing stronger and stronger.

Seeing Forgotten Necropolis as her territory, she had decided to exhibit the lifeless body of Alowix there. As Valtor walked to the heart of the graveyard, he could see Alowix’ corpse impaled on a pretty tall pike –Hel had placed it so that it could be seen from everywhere around the graveyard.

He wasn’t surprised when he saw that Hel was floating above the big, black, marble table which stood in the middle of the huge graveyard –she used to come here every other day either to communicate with the kings of the Underworld or simply to meditate and recharge herself. Being the connection point between two worlds, Forgotten Necropolis enabled Hel to project image in her throne room in the Underworld, making it easier for her to keep a track of things while not missing out the fun in Magix.

“I should’ve know this was what you were going to do.” Valtor spoke as he pointed at the pike while Hel slowly opened her grey eyes. A soft chuckle escaped her lips as the dark haired woman elegantly descended and landed onto the marble table “Is this how you plan to strike terror into your enemies’ hearts?”

Hel sat onto the table and let her legs hang from its edge as she wore her high-heeled shoes “This is simply a warning,” she responded and jumped onto the ground, she was walking towards Valtor “I don’t need a visual feast to strike terror into the hearts of my enemies.”

“Your appearance is a little too deceiving at this point, love.” Valtor said while he placed his hands on her hips the moment she was within his reach “After all those years, even I still tend to be deceived by it and forget how cruel you can be.” The sorcerer pulled Hel against his chest, then he began to caress her cheek with the side of his right index finger. Her pale skin was shining under the silvery moonlight “Though I cannot say I don’t like being reminded of your cruelty all over again –it is always so intoxicating.”

“I want you, Valtor.” Hel breathed against his lips as she wrapped her left hand around his neck and placed the right one on his chest “Right here, right now.” As the distance between their lips was slowly disappearing, Valtor’s breaths were becoming deeper “But I’m too tired for this, I haven’t slept for two days. I know I need to rest, still, I want you. So. Fucking. Much.” Keeping silent for a moment, Hel licked Valtor’s lower lip before going on “So just skip the foreplay, skip everything –make this hard and quick.”

As a response, Valtor pressed his lips against hers and in mere seconds, the couple was drawn into a passionate kiss. Hel took careful steps back while she dragged Valtor with her until her upper leg touched the cold marble. Her hands slid down his torso until reaching the waistband of his trousers. As Valtor’s tongue slid into her mouth, Hel was unbuckling his belt, then she quickly unbuttoned his trousers as well.

The dark haired woman giggled in a naughty way while she pushed down his trousers –she could feel how hard he already was through the fabric of his underwear “Seems like you didn’t need the foreplay at all.” Hel whispered against Valtor’s lips. Instead of giving a verbal response, Valtor simply slid his right hand under Hel’s dress through the slit on her left leg. She gasped upon feeling his fingers touching her underwear, the wetness of which could already be felt through the fabric.

“Hmm, you’re a fine one to talk.” Valtor said while he pulled a little back to lift Hel up and place her on the marble table. Spreading her legs so that Valtor could stand between them, Hel pushed her underwear to the side against her right inner thigh so that the barrier of fabric between herself and Valtor would get out of the way. As she saw that Valtor had pushed down his underwear to free his erection, Hel pulled him closer to her with one hand while wrapping the other one around his member. With careful movements, she guided him to her entrance and nodded quickly at Valtor.

The sorcerer captured Hel’s lips once again as he thrusted into her, eventually causing her to moan in his mouth. In a quite short while the movement of Valtor’s hips gained enough speed to make Hel throw her back and let her soft cries fill his ears. With every sound coming from her lips, Valtor could feel the heat within him growing.

“Mm,” Hel moaned as she pulled back her right hand, which was resting on Valtor’s shoulder, and moved it to her clit “Valtor, faster.”

A groan broke free from him as Valtor thrusted faster and deeper into Hel, which led her to moan loudly “Fuck, yes,” she spoke breathlessly “Right there.”

However, Valtor wasn’t planning to let them hit the edge so quick, despite Hel’s tiredness, hence he first removed Hel’s right hand, the fingers of which were circling her clit. Then he began to slow down his speed. Hel sent him a questioning look “Not yet,” Valtor whispered and didn’t let Hel protest “You can manage without sleep a little more, love.”

He was thrusting slow but deep into her as he placed his warm lips on her neck “When you edge me, it takes forever for us to stop.” Hel muttered, which caused Valtor to chuckle against her skin.

“This time it won’t take forever, I promise.” he said while his lips moved down slowly “I simply want to bring you to the point where you’ll scream my name into the night.”

His words had licked Hel’s skin like the heat of a flame, which only fed her arousal “That shouldn’t be hard to arrange,” she muttered while the fingers of her left hand played with the little hairs on the back of Valtor’s neck “Valtor, please,” Hel spoke with a low voice “This pace is a torture.”

Valtor’s lips had left her neck, he had pulled his head a little back to be able to look at her “Why don’t you try enjoying yourself?” he asked while pulling almost all the way out and then thrusting slowly but hardly into her. Hel let out a silent moan.

“But I want more,” Hel responded and pulled Valtor down to herself to press her lips against his neck “How do you manage to keep your need under such strong control?” She was intentionally letting her lips linger long on each spot on his neck as she licked and kissed and sucked on it so that she could break Valtor’s self-control; however, he seemed to have a will of titanium.

A groan left Valtor’s lips as Hel playfully bit his neck “I contain myself by thinking about the bigger prize at the end.” he spoke with a seductive voice and pulled out, taking a few steps back. The moment Hel felt the feeling of fullness disappearing, a frown appeared on her face “Come down here and turn around.”

The edge of her lip curled upwards in a naughty way as the dark haired woman jumped down from the marble table and turned her back to Valtor “Now, this is getting more interesting.” she said while she bent down. She was holding from the marble table not to lose her balance. Valtor gently lifted the skirt of her dress and after positioning himself before her entrance, he thrusted inside her, once again snatching a moan from Hel.

As Valtor’s movements sped up, Hel was moving her hips to meet his thrusts. Just like he had done the first time, he was increasing the speed quite much in a short time, which was bringing both of them near the edge. When Hel’s moans turned into loud cries of pleasure, Valtor knew he had found that spot in her which made the dark haired woman’s eyes roll to the back of her head.

Valtor’s groans were becoming louder as well, he could feel he was so close to this orgasm but he knew Hel still wasn’t exactly at that point where he wanted to bring her, hence with a million efforts he began to slow down. As he had expected, a frustrated grunt was heard from the witch “I was so close!” Hel said and casted a look at the sorcerer over her shoulder.

“I know, love.” Valtor responded cockily, then he pushed away Hel’s hand, which was reaching for her clit as he clicked his tongue “Not yet, Hel.”

Even though his movements had slowed down, Hel’s hips were still meeting his thrusts. For a few minutes, the only sound to be heard had been Hel’s silent moans and Valtor’s heavy breathing “Valtor,” Hel asked at last but it sound more like begging “Can I touch myself now?”

A big smirk formed on Valtor’s lips upon seeing how desperate she had grown for him, he wanted to savour every little moment of that “No,” he responded with a deep voice, earning some disappointed cries from the dark haired woman “But if you continue to behave, you might get a reward for it.”

He knew how hard it was for Hel not to let desire take over her body for he was feeling the same way –all he wanted at that moment was to take his thrusting to a rapid speed. It took some serious self-control not to give into the temptations.

Slowly, his right hand slid down from its resting place on Hel’s hips and moved between her legs. As she felt Valtor’s index finger rubbing her clit, Hel found herself whimpering “Darling, please, faster.”

“Shh, I’ll give you your orgasm soon enough.” Valtor said while both the thrusting of his hips and the rubbing of his fingers began to speed up. However, before Hel could began moaning loudly once more, Valtor pulled out, again. When Hel turned to face him and ask him what the hell was he doing, the sorcerer lifted her up and placed on the marble table once again.

No words were spoken, in mere seconds theirs bodies became a whole for the third time that night as Hel’s mouth captured Valtor’s, pulling him into a deep kiss. This time, however, Valtor didn’t slowed down after a while, which meant that Hel was about to get the prize she had been yearn for the whole night.

As Valtor hit her G-spot, Hel threw her head back and let out a loud moan “Right there,” she whispered breathlessly, the hold of her left hand on Valtor’s upper arm was getting tighter. Her right hand was holding from the edge of the marble table “Don’t stop.”

Well, he couldn’t even if he wanted to –he had long passed the threshold “Fuck,” Valtor grunted as he felt her walls clenching around his member but he didn’t need to feel that to understand that Hel was about to come –her soft cries had turned into scream-like moans.

When she came, as he had wanted it to be, Hel was screaming his name, which had pushed Valtor over the edge as well. He was whispering her name over and over again as he rode his orgasm.

As the shaking of her legs died, Hel loosened her hold on Valtor while she tried to steady her breathing “That,” she whispered “Was intense.”

Valtor pulled out of her and wore his underwear and trousers “Was it worth all the fuss?” he asked with an arched brow. Hel rolled her eyes at him and jumped down, causing the sorcerer to chuckle “I take that as a yes.”

Standing in front of him, Hel began to caress his cheek with the side of her index finger “Can I sleep with you tonight?” she asked with a surprisingly soft and almost caring voice. It nearly caught Valtor off-guard.

He nodded “Of course,” he said and at that moment he remembered that he intended to give her a little present “But before you go,” he said, causing Hel to raise a curious eyebrow at him “There’s something I’d like to give you.”

Valtor took out a little, black box from the pocket of his maroon-coloured jacket. After licking his lower lip, he opened the box, its inside facing Hel. Her grey eyes lit up almost immediately upon seeing the ring.

It was a grey ring with a big, black onyx on it. Hel knew the moment she saw the ring that it was enchanted to protect her from the deadly rays of the sun –she could feel the powerful spell vibrating off the ring. With a wide smile on her lips, she turned her eyes to Valtor, who had a small smirk on his lips.

“May I?” he asked, earning a quick nod in return. After taking the ring, he closed the box and put it back into his pocket. Then, he took Hel’s left hand and put the ring on her ring finger “Looks perfect,” Valtor spoke with a low voice as he brought her hand to his lips.

At that moment, Valtor saw within Hel’s grey eyes something he hadn’t seen for sixteen years. It was something so familiar yet so strange and it had been hard to decipher at first but once he recalled what it was, he knew he wouldn’t be able to forget it for the rest of his life.

It was love.

[extremelyblackandwhite]

the unseen one - 05

Pairing: Hades!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: drinking

A/N: mentions of absinthe. fun fact, my parents favourite drink is absinthe and it is just awful (take it from me, your friendly non-drinking friend who had to drink it once during a friend’s wedding tradition) however i do feel like bucky would enjoy it, idk why. hope you like this chapter, lemme know.  enjoy xx

Next Chapter >>

Hecate rushed with James to Groves of Persephone. These grounds stood in the Elysium, the better part of the Underworld and Hades’ gift to Persephone once she became his wife. It was a beautiful place but even James had to be stunned by, at the height of its beauty it always had various flowers and plants flourishing by and climbing up the white marbled columns of Persephone’s resting place. After Persephone and the original god of Death disappeared from the Cosmos, the Grove became part of James’ possessions as lord of the underworld.

It was where the noblest of souls laid rest and James’ himself could not believe that the Groves of Persephone were part of the Underworld due to the its sheer beauty. However, once he stepped in, the once bright, flourishing, green and colourful themes that gave that place the beauty it did was disappearing. Most of the flowers were dead and some wild plants were breaking through the marbled floors leading to where Persephone and Hades used to lead. 

      - What happened? - James turned to look at the goddess of sorcery, hoping she was playing a trick on him.

     - The Groves are dying. - Hecate pointed at the brown coloured plants. - Is this your doing?

     - Well, yes Hecate. I decided to destroy the only surviving thing from Persephone that gives Demeter some solace.

     - I know you’re joking but it sounds like something you’d do.

     - Call Demeter and everyone else who’s a god of plants. Anthousai, Chloris even Gaia if necessary. This has to be fixed. - James turned on his back not wanting to deal with that right now. Demeter didn’t personally hate him, he hadn’t kidnapped his daughter. However, she thoroughly missed his daughter and has such would visit her Groves every once in a while and gave him the job of protecting Persephone’s jewels. If he destroyed any of those, he’d have to hide forever from the goddess or probably would be turned into a plant. He returned to his office, picking a few books and dumping them on his desk, trying to find a way to figure out what had happened.

The Groves had been tended to by Persephone in the past, with some of Hades’ books even describing it as her regular past time and where the throne room once sat, however, after their disappearance from the universe and James taking the throne, it became tended by the underworld nymphs, the Lampades, which followed Hecate in her night-time reveals and hauntings. He knew them to be extremely loyal to Hecate, more to her than to him, he also knew Hecate to pay her respects to the long gone goddess of spring so that meant the Lampades wouldn’t stop caring for the Groves. 

He spent most of the days going through the books and those letters which Hades used to write to Demeter about his daughter but nothing spoke of any issues with the Groves. 

    - Hades. - he raised his head from the books to see Demeter at the door. Demeter was always one of James’ personal favourite goddesses, mostly due to her demeanour. She was a tall woman, always with sun kissed skin, dressed in green soft fabric dresses covered by ivy plants which contrasted with her always perfectly groomed red hair which always had a crown of wheat placed upon it. Hecate used to say that along with Persephone, Demeter was one of the biggest oponnents to Aphrodite’s beauty. However, with the loss of the daughter and the continuing, ever lasting grief of her lost daughter, gods said the immortal goddess had allowed time to take its toll on her. Nevertheless, Demeter was a kind, fair and mature goddess, knowing exactly what to do and  when to do it. - Hecate has filled me on the occurrences. 

   - Any chances the Lampades might’ve forgotten to care for the Groves?

   - The Nature is dying even with care. Not sure why exactly, I can try and come a few times to tend for the nature. 

   - Any chance Persephone would’ve spoken about anything wrong with the groves in the past?

   - My daughter never really spoke with me after she was forced to leave her husband every year. 

   - I’m sure Persephone shared no hatred towards you. However, the groves are part of the Elysium, we cannot permit any death in the Elysium.

   - I’ll work with my nymphs personally and see what we can do. 

Meanwhile, Y/N hadn’t sleep throughout the day. After James had dropped her off and Anne had returned to her home she just couldn’t sleep so she spent most of the day with a bowl of strawberries by her side, cashmere blanket wrapped around herself as she read her book with the TV on for background noise. It was the weekend, she had mostly nothing to do expect checking her phone every few hours to check for any teachers’ emails, but even them didn’t text them on Saturdays.

She would have ended up her Saturday by falling asleep on her coach if it hadn’t been for Anne climbing through the window by the fire escape. Y/N titled her head up to see Anne in a satin blue dress, her regular unruly locks held behind with some star shaped pins.

  - We’re going out. - she said pushing the cashmere blanket away from her.

  - I don’t wanna go out. - Y/N groaned, cuddling against a pillow.

  - We can only go out on Fridays and Saturdays, since you spent Friday with tall, dark, and handsome, you owe me this.

  - Fine. - she got up from her coach, walking to her room to grab something deemed for going out. She ended up with open toe dark boots, high waisted jeans and a white blouse whose lower fabric she wrapped around her waist.

Anne always went to the same bar. The same old beat up bar that Y/N was 100% sure was more of a spot for drug vending, weird rituals and gang meetings than a bar, however Anne was sure that was the best place to be. The two girls walked into the bar, a weird, unknown tune playing in the background. There weren’t too many people inside, only 5 maximum. However, Y/N’s eyes immediately set on a man sat by the bar. James. She could recognise him anywhere.

   - Anne, I think that’s James. - she casually whispered to her friend, who very unceremoniously turned to check. - Be more discreet will you?

   - You gotta go there. 

   - No, I don’t wanna bother him. He’s alone here by a reason.

   - Now, you listen to me, Y/N. - she unbuttoned two of her friend’s blouse. - You go over there and you ask him for his phone number and you’ll only return once you have his contact name on your phone. 

   - Stop it. - she slapped her hand off but her friend only pointed in his direction: Y/N mumbled a few curses under her breathe, trying to button up the blouse in a manner which wasn’t so bed inviting. As she was about to tap him on the shoulder, he noticed her first.

    - Y/N, I didn’t fancy you one to enjoy these parts. - he spoke in his raspy voice tone. He sounded tired and Y/N wondered if like her he couldn’t sleep. 

   - It’s Anne’s favourite place in town. - Y/N took a place next to him in one of the worn out high chairs. She noticed the fancy cup containing green liquid he was holding. - What are you drinking?

   - Absinthe. 

   - Doesn’t absinthe cause hallucinations? - she furrowed her brow, still mildly interested in how green the beverage was. 

   - Wish it did. - he gestured to the bartender who brought another fancy glass and a nice silver spoon. She watched him prepare something before sliding it over to her. - Give it a try. 

   - Will I hallucinate?

   - Promise you won’t. - he lifted his own glass, cheering it up to her. Y/N downed a bit of the drink, finding it sickeningly sweet, almost like licorish iced tea. Something she didn’t know what to feel about. - I see you don’t like it.

   - It’s too sweet.

   - Sweet people normally don’t like sweet things. - he almost mumbled it under his breathe, but Y/N could hear it which made a heat cripple over her cheeks. 

   - You know, we normally have quite a few outings in my friend group. If you’d gave me your number, I could tell you when. - Y/N didn’t know exactly how to ask him for his phone number. She didn’t want to sound desperate, or too forward.

   - I’m afraid I don’t have one of those, sweetness. - she gave him a nervous smile trying not to show how the small rejection. - However, if you give me yours I can try to get in touch.

   - How would you get in touch without a phone?

   - I could get one or could use a pay phone.

   - That’s old school, don’t you think? - she grabbed one of the small napkins, scribbling her phone number on it and sliding it to him.

   - I like old school, sweetness.

   - I should get back to my friend. - Y/N scratched the back of her neck, noticing Anne waiting for her. 

   - I’ll speak with you later, Y/N.

   - Later, Bucky.