#i tried writing on ao3 and my life fell apart more than it already was :)

[thefoolsbullshit]

Domestic fluff is the one thing that makes me just start kicking my feet like yes give me a story about two screwed up people that have childhood trauma living together and getting through rough things together, give me the morning cuddles and holding someone close as they cook breakfast in the morning. By Zeus give me f*cking soft kisses all over their partners face until they become flustered. Give me a story about two people who love each other and just do sweet things with each other.

Give me:

Soft gentle kisses during nights where neither one can sleep

Cuddling on the couch together with coffee and some dumb movie/show playing

Playfully teasing kisses and tackle hugging

Sweet little moments where speaking just doesn't need to happen

The softest words being spoke in a sweet whisper in their ear

Holding each other close and just letting it be how they stay together for a few moments

Kisses in the rain and sweet words in between soft kisses

Two lovers just holding hands as they walk around

Comfort cuddles

Helping with chores around the house/apartment

Playing with their hair

Stroking their hair

Forehead kisses

Letting them cry as they hold them

I want to see sweet gentle love, and I just love seeing it and I love trying to write it.

[scoops-aboy86]

By The Heart (Secret Admirer pt 2)

Steddie Week 2024, July 2: Hands / touch starved / Invisible Touch by Genesis

wc: 2136 / rated: T / set between seasons 2 and 3 / also on ao3

After the world fell apart a second time in November of ‘84, Steve had finished out the rest of his senior year in a daze. Partly because Billy Hargrove had broken a fucking plate over his head, giving him a small scar by his hairline that the doctor said would fade and recurring headaches that the doctor said might stick around anywhere from a few months to forever. 

It’s been more than a few months and the headaches are only slightly less frequent and a tiny bit less severe. 

He graduated, barely. His dad keeps dropping pointed comments about how his parents let him stay in their house rent-free after high school, how he’d saved up while attending a nearby college by not having to worry about the cost of a dorm or basic meals, and that it is his gratitude towards them that has moved him to offer the same to Steve. Usually said comments come after Steve tries to sidestep some sort of menial task, and it always feels like a threat.Steve just grits his teeth and takes it—refills his dad’s drink when the bottle is already literally right by the man’s hand, washes the family car after dinner when both his parents know that Steve has a shift at Scoops first thing in the morning, whatever. He can’t afford to get kicked out right now. 

His job at Scoops Ahoy is shit, all bright fluorescent lights and kids screaming and everything getting sticky for a measly minimum wage, but that probably reflects the quality of the job application he’d submitted. 

He has no friends, no prospects, no one in his corner except a bunch of incoming freshmen and the only one who really seems to want him around is off at some sort of smart people camp that he’d never even heard of… Go figure. 

But he has Secret Admirer. 

Okay, what Steve has is a pen pal who has a PO box and prefers to remain anonymous, possibly because Steve is an embarrassing person to have a crush on these days. And it’s really stupid that he thinks of them as first name Secret, last name Admirer, but it’s not like he hasn’t tried to come up with better names! Unfortunately, there are so many things Secret Admirer has called him (sweetheart, darling, dearest, honey, baby) that he can’t really think of anything original with those constantly rotating in his head… He can’t use them, though. It’d be weird. 

The first letter had been shoved into his locker in the last few weeks of school, looking like someone either wrote it with their non-dominant hand or had also suffered a blow to the head recently, and he hadn’t known what to make of it at first. In fact, he’d considered the possibility that Tommy or Billy were playing some sort of prank on him… but he didn’t think either of them could write “To Steve, the heart of my heart” without bursting into homophobic flames, and if it was Carol she would’ve done her girliest handwriting with hearts dotting the eyes. And his Secret Admirer had mentioned things no one else in his life seemed to care about. 

Like, 

I hope you’re feeling better. Sometimes I notice you squinting or grimacing in the classes we have in common… Are you still getting headaches? Do you get enough rest? You probably already know this, but mental and physical rest are super important for getting your handsome self all recovered, big boy. 

And,

I had a concussion once, not a bad one but it really left an impression. Felt like I was trying to think through a head full of soup for weeks. It sucks that teachers didn’t seem to cut you much slack because, just saying, I noticed they used to do that a lot more when you were still on the basketball and swim teams. Jock privilege placed above consideration of an actual, serious injury? I’m sorry, but that’s the rankest compound of villainous smell that ever offended nostril, sweetheart, and you deserve better. 

So, yeah. Clearly his Secret Admirer is a nerd who doesn’t necessarily have the best opinion of jocks… but still took the time to notice all those things and write kindly about them. It felt nice, knowing that at least one person out there noticed, maybe even cared. 

And when that letter turned out not to be a one-off, a few more letters in his locker and then one in his mailbox, postmarked and everything, after graduation? Steve was hooked, enough to start writing self-consciously back. 

Which has brought him to the point of wanting so badly to meet this person that he’s stooped to begging, and it’s not even getting him anywhere. 

It’s occurred to him that it could be a guy, of course it has. Steve might not be the sharpest knife in the drawer, but he knows it happens. He’d had a friend in middle school, Todd Fischer, nice guy, totally normal kid—got caught kissing some boy in the next grade up behind the gym and turned out to be the worst sprinter of the two. The Fischers had moved out of Hawkins a few weeks later and Steve hadn’t heard anything from or about Todd since. They’d been halfway through reading Romeo & Juliet in English at the time, and Steve remembers thinking when they got to the end of the play that at least things hadn’t gone that badly for Todd and whoever the other kid was. He’s old enough now to know that it could have; between Todd being such a nice kid, Barb dying in his own backyard, and the threat of government agents coming out of the woodwork if he ever breathes a word about certain secrets, the thought leaves a bad taste in Steve’s mouth. 

Anyway, if it is a guy, that would explain why Secret Admirer keeps dancing around his pleas to meet. And the initially disguised handwriting—which had been dropped by the second mailed letter, along with a brief, sheepish apology. 

But it could also be a girl who’s really shy or something. Steve doesn’t want to assume and then look like a total idiot further down the road. Whoever it is, all Steve knows is that he doesn’t want to lose them. He has to play this smart, play it cool… because he knows himself, and already knows that they have him by the heart based on words alone. 

The latest letter is in his hands, crinkled a little at the edges, and Steve can’t help himself from rereading the fifth paragraph yet again. 

… those indecently tiny shorts. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought about running my fingers up the inside of those thighs. Or my mouth. Whichever you think you’d like best, baby, I’m not picky. And while I do like ice cream, particularly strawberry with rainbow sprinkles in a cone, I can think of something else I’d love to wrap my hand around and run my tongue over before any drips can escape. You just think about that, hmm? Maybe share some of those thoughts in your reply, if I haven’t scared you off…

He’s not scared off. Doesn’t need to know exactly who put pen to paper to imagine hands and lips running up his legs, either, an invisible touch that sends shivers along his spine. 

Okay, maybe it’s been a while. Between striking out from behind the Scoops counter and not really trying all that hard anyway, the only action Steve’s seen is from his own hand… and this letter. He has thoughts, alright, but has a much better idea of how to translate them into action than words. And this is his problem with the whole pen pal only thing, his natural charm (if he has any left) is absolutely useless in this medium. 

The other problem is that he really, really wants to jerk off about this, except he’s got almost no details to fuel the fantasy. He knows that Secret Admirer had a concussion once, but not what color or length or texture or style their hair is; knows they’re on the fringes of popularity and not really into sports, but nothing about their height or build or how they might move against him. Hell, he doesn’t even know if they’re a girl or a guy, isn’t sure if he should try to imagine boobies and painted nails or stubbled cheeks and big hands. 

Secret Admirer has mentioned being a smoker though, of both tobacco and grass, and Steve is not exactly proud of how strongly this makes him want a cigarette just because it’s all he has to go on. He has work in under an hour and Robin hates the smell of cigarettes, will be extra vicious for their entire shift if he comes in reeking of smoke. 

He’ll have to figure out something else…

Dear Secret Admirer, Thanks for writing again, I was really glad to get your letter. I don’t sleep with them under my pillow because sometimes my pillow ends up on the floor and I don’t want to drool all over them. I keep them in a box in the back of my closet, because sometimes my parents have the cleaning lady do my bedroom without telling me and I don’t want her going through my stuff or putting it in weird places that I can never find again.  Sorry for laughing at you You must not have seen me last week when I threw a banana peel at my coworker for It’s not being humble if I don’t deserve Yeah, fuck high school.  Sorry for not rewriting this, I’m running out of paper and my dad’ll kill me if I break into his office to get more I definitely thought about what you said in your last letter. I thought about it a lot. It’s hard to figure out how to explain what though, because I wanted to picture you like you were probably picturing me when you were writing it. You obviously know what I look like, but I don’t know who you are so I had to get creative. (Which isn’t my strong suit. So if this is stupid maybe we could just never mention it again?) Since I don’t know what you look like and it’d be weird to try and picture you anyway, and then what if I’m not even close and that makes it seem like I don’t like you for who you are? I’m not sure if that makes sense. But anyway, since I don’t know what you look like I pictured you dressed like a ninja.  Hear me out, okay? You’re such a mystery. Ninjas are mysterious, and dressed all black to blend in with the shadows. You can’t see their hair or face and they wear gloves because you can tell a lot about a person by their hands. I guess what I’m saying is I imagined you sneaking into my room at night when the lights are off. Totally silent but with this powerful presence, you know? I think if I were in the same room as you it’d feel like that moment right before the whistle goes off at a swim meet, because that’s just like, holy shit it’s about to happen and your muscles are all tense but ready but you’re waiting, coiled like a snake. So I’m coiled like a snake and you’re still a ninja and I’m not very good at this. I’ve done it over the phone a few times but that’s different. I don’t know where I’m going with this just sitting writing this alone in my room with Genesis playing in the background so I’m going to stop. Just trust me, it was hot. If you ever want to exchange numbers I’d be happy to tell you all about it sometime.  It feels weird to end like that, so I’ll also tell you that I tried reading that Hobbit book you suggested and you were right, it’s a lot easier than the Rings book that the kids I babysit tried to bully me into reading. Bibo is freaking out about all these dwarves in his house and I can relate, it sounds like when those kids all show up and try to rope me into driving them around town. At least they haven’t tried to make me steal anything or try to take on a damn dragon yet. Hopefully this book won’t give them any ideas.  — Steve PS If that was so dumb you changed your mind about still writing to me, please let me down easy. Seriously it would be no hard feelings. At least I still have a great ass and great hair, so I’ve got that going for me.

Tag list (open): @hotluncheddie @lawrencebshoggoth @sofadofax @tangerinesteve @steviewashere

@cryingglightningg @theresebelivett @sleepy-steve @rozzieroos @lunaraindrop

@just-my-latest-hyperfixation @wheneverfeasible @swimmingbirdrunningrock @yesdangerpls @matchingbatbites

@ihavekidneys @p0lybl4nkk @grtwdsmwhr @cheesedoctor @thetinymm

@practicallybegging @fuzzyduxk @greatwerewolfbeliever

[writing-until-i-drop]

Wildflowers For A Hangman Ch. 4

Summary:

Daisy, a career novelist, moves in with her college best friend Phoenix who has been permanently assigned to Top Gun with Dagger Squad. She finds herself instantly connected with a cocky pilot who's soft only for her and Jake can't help but want to know everything about her. When the past comes knocking at both of their doors, will they stand together or fall apart?

Or: The Dagger Squad can't cook and Jake falls in love with a woman who makes a mean lasagna while they work their personal trauma.

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x writer!femOC | 18+ (eventually) minors dni. Fluff, smut (eventual), idiots in love, past trauma.

A/N: Cassandra isn't speaking to Daisy and her work suffers but a call from her brother should make everything better, right?

AO3 Link

Previous Chapter

Cassandra wasn’t cooperating today and I knew better than to try and force it. Instead, I tried my hand at writing something overtly and didn’t make it a full page before scrapping the entire project. I’d had a few boyfriends before but none of them had given me the foot-popping, sparks-flying, kind of romance people wrote about. 

In a desperate attempt to get something done, I wrote a few paragraphs more of an abandoned project about a kid detective trying to solve the theft of a neighbor’s lawn gnome. It wasn’t my most inspired piece of work, one of the many reasons Jason had told me to drop it, but it felt good to write something. 

After completely throwing in the towel, I cleaned the apartment and made a double batch of M&M cookies, snacking on the chocolate candies as I went. Once the kitchen was cleaned again, I realized that I had made enough cookies to feed an army without an army to feed. 

Daisy: Movie night at our place with the daggers? 

Daisy: I may have stress baked

After an hour, Natasha responded affirmatively and I decided to run to the store for more snacks. While debating between Dorito flavors, my phone rang, Harvey’s picture flashing on the screen.

“Hey, Harv,” I greeted him, adding both bags of chips to my cart. “How are my girls?” 

“Driving me crazy as usual,” Harvey laughed and I felt a bit lighter inside. There had been a point in our childhoods where I felt resentful that Harvey could be so happy but my therapist and a healthy dose of prescriptions had helped me past that. “How’s life in California?” 

“Hot,” I joked. “The sun’s insufferable but it’s good to be living with Tasha again. She’s got some great friends that I bribed with cookies into accepting me as one of them.” 

“Of course you did, your cookies could broker world peace.” I chuckled, waiting for Harvey to cut to the chase as I continued to throw all the snack foods I could find into the cart including frozen pizzas and chicken wings. “August is coming to an end.” There it was. I sighed but stayed silent, “How are you doing, DeeDee?” 

“I’ve already scheduled the flowers to be sent to their graves and-” 

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” 

“I’m fine, Harv. I’m keeping busy, trying not to think about it.” Something fell behind me and I nearly jumped out of my skin, white-knuckling the cart. It was like a switch flipped, all of my nerves lighting on fire, the acute paranoia I’d worked so hard to rid myself of sprinting to the forefront of my mind. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as Harvey’s voice faded into a soft buzzing. Was someone watching me? No, no one was watching me. I tried to shake off the feeling, moving at a snail’s pace through the aisle. I looked down at my feet and I could have sworn I saw red despite the canvas being black. 

“Daisy?” I heard my name through the fog, “Daisy Louise? DeeDee, you’re okay. You’re okay, everything’s okay, DeeDee.” Harvey. Harvey was calling for me. Where was he? I had to get to him. “I’m okay, DeeDee. I’m safe.” The fog pulled away and I was on the floor of the frozen aisle, my phone beside me. 

“Harvey?” 

“I’m here, I’m alright, DeeDee.” He soothed, “Are you okay?” I grabbed the phone, tucking my head between my knees.

“I’m okay, Harv. I just…”

“I know, it’s okay. It’s normal but you should call Natasha and have her pick you up.” That was completely off of the table. I could handle this by myself, all I needed to do was get to my feet and everything would be okay. “I love you, DeeDee.”

“I love you too, Harvey.” I sat on the floor with my head in my hands for a few seconds after hanging up, evening out my breathing until I didn’t think I was going to pass out anymore. I struggled my way through checkout, my mind drifting and then snapping back to reality with everyone off-kilter sound I heard or thought I heard. But when my hands were shaking too hard to put the keys in the ignition, I put my pride inside and called Tasha. 

“Phoenix’s phone,” Coyote picked up and I nearly ended the call, “Daisy?” 

“Is Tasha there?” Fuck, I sounded like I had been crying. My voice wavered, full of emotion.

“She’s in the air, what’s wrong, Daisy?” Coyote was all business and I appreciated him for it.

“It’s fine, nevermind,” I even failed at convincing myself that things were fine. Coyote sighed then replied in a soft, quiet voice.

“Daisy, Nat told me that sometimes you have anxiety attacks. Is that what happened?” Damn it. Natasha had helped me through more than her fair share of them in college, it only made sense that she would tell someone important to her like Coyote.

“You can’t tell anyone,” I sighed, “I just, I’m at the grocery store and I don’t know if I should be driving home like this.” I heard Jake’s voice in the background and tensed, “Don’t tell Hangman.” Coyote chuckled,

“Yes, ma’am. Alright, there’s two ways this can go. I can ask Mav for permission to come get you or I can call Penny.” Neither option sounded preferable. “Penny’s going to ask a lot of questions because she’s a mom and then she’s going to tell Mav anyways. I will ask no questions because I’ve already got an idea of what’s going on.” 

“As long as Mav’s the only extra person in the loop,” I relented. “And Javy? Thanks.” 

Javy showed up in his flight suit not long after and I was distracted for a second by just how handsome he was. Natasha’s taste in men had gotten a lot better since college.

“Do you want to stop for food on the way back? Sugar will make you feel better after an adrenaline dump like that.” I nodded, thanking him again for showing up. “You’re part of the squad now, Daisy, no thanks necessary.” The sentiment warmed my heart, a soft smile appearing despite the embarrassing situation. 

“Can we get Wendy’s? It’s my favorite.” A spicy chicken nugget and a Dr. Pepper sounded amazing right now. Javy messed my hair like a big brother,

“Whatever you want.” After a few minutes of listening to the radio in silence, Javy glanced over at me. “So, what do you think of Hangman?” 

“What do you think of Tasha?” I shot back, not expecting him to answer but he took me by surprise.

“She’s one hell of a woman and a fantastic pilot.” Javy grinned like a lovesick idiot and I found myself smiling too, “I’m lucky she gives me the time of day if I’m being honest.” He glanced over at me again, still smiling and I rolled my eyes. “Your turn.” 

“Hangman’s a flirtatious ass,” Javy barked with laughter, pulling into the Wendy’s. “But Jake’s nice and he listens to me when I go on my rants about random shit. Like, I swear he probably listened to me talk about Sherlock Holmes for an hour the other night.” 

“Hour and a half,” Javy snickered, “We timed it.” I couldn’t even be mad, laughing with him.

“Not even Tasha would let me go on like that! So yeah, I think Jake’s pretty great.” I brushed my hair into my eyes to hide my blush, “Anyways, I’ll take a spicy number ten with a Dr. Pepper, please.” 

“Do you want a frosty too?” Yep. Natasha’s taste in men had definitely improved.

After cooing over me like a mother hen and calling Harvey to let him know I was okay, Natasha took Harvey to get his car. After taking a shower and finishing the large frosty Javy bought me even when I told him not to, I felt a lot better. Well enough to respond to the texts Jake had been sending me. 

Jake: Everything okay? 

Jake: Coyote told me to mind my business and that you were fine but I want to hear it from you

Jake: Phoenix also told to mind my business

Jake: Honey I need to hear it from you

Jake: If you don’t text me in ten minutes I’m coming over

I rolled my eyes but the butterflies in my stomach took flight, swirling in delight that Jake was concerned for me. 

Daisy: Listen to Javy, pretty boy. I’m fine

Jake: Too late

“If this boy isn’t careful, I’m going to fall in love with him,” I whispered to the empty kitchen, ripping open a packet of M&Ms. 

X

“Hey,” Daisy greeted me with a lazy smile, throwing back a palmful of M&Ms. Something was off about her but I couldn’t put my finger on it just yet. I was going to figure it out though, you could bet on that. 

“Hey, Wildflower. How are you feeling?” She rolled her eyes like she didn’t have a care in the world but her shoulders tensed. Coyote had been tight lipped over why he had left work early but with how both he and Phoenix were acting, I knew it had to be Daisy and that had spun me up into a twister of anxiety that eased a little seeing her.

“I told you I was fine, see?” She gestured down her body. Daisy was in cartoon pajama shorts that showed off her pale thighs and a tank top, her endless curves on display from top to bottom. I swallowed hard, my mind filled with thoughts of running my hands over her hips, spreading her knees, and eating Daisy for dessert on Phoenix’s counter. “I’m perfectly fine.” 

“You look fine as hell, sweetheart,” Daisy blushed hard, her chest and cheeks burning red. “But you know it’s not your body I’m asking about.” I crossed the room, needing to put my hands on her even if I shouldn’t.

“Okay, Hangman,” She grumbled, using my callsign like she always did when I said something flirty. My hands landed softly on her hip and her cheek, forcing her to stay close and look at me. Daisy relaxed, eyes fluttering shut. “I’ll be fine, Jake,” She whispered and I felt myself melt. This girl had no idea that I was putty in her hands.

“Of course you will be,” I promised, “Because I’m going to be right here by your side.” Daisy smiled, eyes still closed, nuzzling her cheek like a cat into my hand.

“You’re laying it on pretty thick again, Hangman.” God this girl. She didn’t believe a word that came out of my mouth if it veered even the slightest bit away from platonic. I had my work cut out for me but when she opened her dark eyes and smiled at me like I hung the stars and the moon, I knew I was up to the task. “Do you want a cookie?” What I wanted was to kiss her forehead but a cookie would work for now. 

The rest of the daggers showed up a little bit later and while Daisy played the role of the perfect hostess, I pulled Coyote off to the side. 

“Should I be worried?” Coyote glanced over my shoulder to where Daisy was and then shrugged.

“I don’t think so, at least, not at the moment anyways.” My heart clenched, needing to know more but he shook his head before I could ask. “Nothing about this situation is my business to share, man. When she’s ready to tell, she’ll tell.” 

“We should watch a horror movie,” Bradley suggested, the loud agreement of the squad interrupting our conversation. Coyote patted me on the shoulder, heading for the kitchen. When she was ready to tell, she would tell me. I had to trust that that would be the case. Right? 

“Hangman, get some food before Bob eats it all!” Rooster shouted for my attention. Bob was blushing with a plate piled high with food, praising Daisy’s homemade mac and cheese so that’s what I scooped up first. I didn’t miss how Phoenix was hovering behind Daisy, watching her like a hawk. I said a little prayer, hoping that Daisy would find the right moment to tell me what was going on sooner rather than later.

With a plate full of snacks, we all scattered around the living room. Daisy came right to me with a blanket, a blush on her cheeks, not looking me in the eyes as she took a seat beside me. She was the one person without a plate of food and turned me down when I offered her some of my chips,

“I’m not hungry,” She whispered, bringing the blanket up to her chin. “Javy got me Wendy’s.” He was Javy to her now? I glanced over at my best friend, who was not so subtly making eyes at Phoenix while she and Rooster argued over what horror movie we were going to watch. Rooster won when he threatened to tell a story that had Phoenix slapping a hand over his mouth.

It ended up being about some demon who was influencing people to murder others but the special effects weren’t all that believable. I much preferred a 90s action flick or, when alone, a Hallmark movie on occasion. With every passing minute, Daisy inched closer to my side, the blanket moving higher up her face. Seizing the opportunity, I dropped my plate on the table and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, bringing her close. 

“Not a fan of horror?” I whisper, she shook her head, eyes locked on the screen as the possessed man picked up a hunting knife. 

“Murder,” She whispered back, her hand tentatively resting on my thigh.

“Aren’t you a crime novelist, sweetheart?” I teased, trying to ignore how good it felt to have her hands on me.

“That’s different,” Daisy insisted, jumping at something on screen but I wasn’t watching the movie anymore, my focus was solely on her. Daisy looked terrified. I shifted sideways and pulled her face into my chest, forcing her attention off of the movie and whatever it was that was scaring her so much. Her hand moved from my thigh to my chest, fingers digging into my shirt. 

“It’s okay, I’ve got you, baby,” I whispered into her hair, kissing her head. “It’s just a movie.” Daisy went limp in my hold and I pulled her sideways onto my lap, Bob looked and quickly looked away but it didn’t seem like anyone else noticed. Not that I would care if they did, if this was what Daisy needed, then it’s what I was going to do. I squeezed her thigh gently and began stroking my thumb back and forth, “I’ve got you.” 

“I know,” Daisy whispered into my shoulder. After a moment she added, “If I’m too heavy-” She stopped when I squeezed her thigh,

“You can sit on my lap whenever you want, Wildflower.” 

“My gentleman,” She sighed and I felt a glimmer of hope. She didn’t call me Hangman.

Next Chapter

[corrodedseraphine]

dos oruguitas | #2 welcome home

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

chapter summary: When you return to Hawkins after unsuccessfully trying to arrange your life in Indianapolis, it seems to you that time in the town has stopped. Only when you step your foot in Forest Hills Trailer Park again you find out that the changes are more serious than you think.

the story is also avaliable on ao3

previous chapter | masterlist | eddie munson masterlist | general masterlist

thank you @i-me-mine for listening to my rambling and helping me with the ideas to this chapter, you are the best! 🥰

If you have any ideas what would you like to see in the story feel free to tell me about them in comments or in my inbox which is always open for you guys! Thank you so much for reading!

you can also take part in a small poll where you can help me decide what should I write next 😊

"Welcome home, kid." Your dad said as you passed the Hawkins sign smiling warmly. You had mixed feelings, excitement blended with fear. You hadn't been to this place for more than three years, but the longer you drove past the streets of the town you noticed that in truth almost nothing had changed, except that they had somehow managed to get rid of the damage caused by the "earthquake."

Robin had found her real life in Indianapolis, nowhere did you see her happier, in every possible way. She found a very well-paid job at a translation agency, through which she met the love of her life, Rosa, who turned out to be the daughter of the office cleaner. The two immediately fell madly in love with each other, so it was a matter of time when they would live together. You, unfortunately, did not do so well. After graduating from community college, you tried looking for jobs, but none of them turned out to be permanent. You could say that your love life was nonexistent. There was nothing there to keep you around. Deep down you knew this was not the place for you. Having vacated your place for Rosa in the apartment, you made the decision that it was time to return to Hawkins. You hoped that a few months in your hometown would help you find some plan for the future. 

"Hey, uhm... listen," began your dad as you approached Trailer Park. "I think there's something you should know. I know you didn't want to hear anything about Eddie, but it's really important."

"Dad, please, let's talk about it later." during one of your dad's visits to Indy and a big moment of weakness, you told him what was the real reason for your moving out. 

"I don't know if there will be an opportunity later-" 

"Dad, please." you interrupted him. The man just sighed and drove into the last turn leading in front of your trailer. 

As you stepped out of the car the sun over Hawkins was just beginning to rise. You smiled at the sight of your old home and surroundings, you didn't even realize how much you missed it.

"Holy shit!" you heard a familiar voice and immediately turned toward it. Max, after a moment, however, was already at your side locking you in a bear hug. "I thought I'd never see you here again. Welcome home." she muttered into your shirt.

"I missed you too, Red." You chuckled squeezing her back even tighter.

"For how long are you staying?"

"I have no idea, definitely a few months."

"Yes, we need to spend some time before I leave for college! I have to call El and tell her you're back!"

"You can also say that I'm taking you both out for ice cream tomorrow. Today, sadly," you pouted. "I have to deal with unpacking."

"So, it's a date!" she laughed winking at you. She hugged you again and ran back to her trailer.

"You really didn't tell anyone you were coming back?" your dad asked.

"Nope."

"Why?" He was puzzled.

"I don't know, I guess I wanted to give them a little surprise." You smiled slightly. "Are we going to start?" you asked looking toward the car in which the cardboard boxes with your things were located.

After unpacking everything, you decided to go for a little shopping at a nearby grocery store, you wanted to prepare dinner for your dad tonight. About twenty minutes later you were back outside your trailer. You still couldn't believe you were back here. Everything seemed like a weird dream to you.

"Am I hallucinating?" you heard Wayne's voice as you put your shopping bags by the door and pulled out your keys. "Are my old eyes mistaken?" you turned to look at him with a smile. He was walking toward you holding a little girl who had a storm of curls on her head with colorful bobby pins in it. Her big dark eyes looked curiously in your direction, and you too, despite your efforts, could not hide your surprise.

When they got a little closer he put the girl on the ground and opened his arms inviting you into a hug, which you quickly accepted.

"God, I missed you so much!" you said squeezing him even tighter.

"Me too, kid. Welcome home."

When you finished hugging, you took a step back to look at him, nothing had changed, he was completely the same as you remembered. Your gaze, however, quickly shifted to the little person who was now hiding behind his leg clutching his pants leg. Following your line of sight, Wayne swiftly picked her up in his arms again.

"Come on, sweetheart, introduce yourself." he smiled warmly.

"Hello, I am Beatrice." the girl said quietly, clinging to Wayne's neck.

"Well, hello, you have such a beautiful name." you replied smiling and extending your hand toward her.

"Everybody calls me Trixie." she added as her small hand tightened on your finger. "What's your name?" she asked more confidently.

"Oh! My name is y/n." you stammered nervously.

"I know you." she continued.

"You do?" you asked confused.

"You are the lady from the photos!" she exclaimed clapping her hands. "Daddy and Grandpa have your photos on the wall!"

Daddy and Grandpa. Suddenly you felt your legs bending under you. At first when you saw her in Wayne's arms you tried to force yourself to think that it was the child of friends, relatives, anyone. Now, though, you couldn't escape the truth. The beautiful curls on her head and chocolate eyes left no trace of doubt. Beatrice. You knew perfectly well why they chose exactly this name, and you did not hide the fact that it touched you. A cute little Trixie named after the most wonderful woman in the world.

"Alright, kiddo, why don't you go play with your new ball for a bit while grandpa and y/n have a little talk?" The man immediately sensed your confusion and awkward atmosphere. The girl quickly rushed over to their trailer, where a colorful ball was lying and started playing with it. You and Wayne sat down at the picnic table.

"So…Grandpa?" you asked nervously placing your hands under your thighs.

"Things got pretty crazy when you left, y'know?" he chuckled. "This little lady, she wrapped us around her finger right from the start." he said, watching Trixie chasing a colorful ball with a smile.

"Congratulations." you said smiling.

You recalled the words you said to Eddie during your last conversation about moving on. He really did. No one would have ever expected him to be the first to start a family, but you also knew all along that Eddie Munson was full of surprises. You wondered where he was now, maybe at work? Maybe he and Samantha were both working which is why Wayne is taking care of Trixie until they get home, and then as a whole happy family they sit around the table. Despite the passage of time, your wounds related to Eddie have not healed. And despite the fact that whenever someone mentioned something about him you changed the subject and tried to avoid him like a fire, he never left your thoughts. Worse, he didn't leave your heart either.

"Uh-" You didn't know how to start but you had to ask the question. You had to know no matter how much of a blow it would be to you.

"Eddie and Samantha, uhm- are- are they…" you began to stammer. The word married didn't want to pass your lips, you had the feeling that it stopped in your throat in the form of a giant gulp.

"Don't say anything about this girl." The man sighed. "Normally I would have kept a cigarette in my mouth a long time ago, but since Trixie showed up we both stopped smoking." He shook his head.

"Then we have a little miracle worker here."

"You have no idea." he laughed. "We found her in a box. She dumped her on our doorstep in a box like she was a damn animal." Hearing this you felt a sting in your heart. You looked at the girl. How could she do something like that? "Since that day, she disappeared totally, taking no interest in her own daughter at all. God knows what would have happened to Trixie if she had stayed with her mother."

Before you had time to respond anything Trixie ran up to Wayne pulling him by the sleeve so that he was leaning into her and started whispering something in his ear. After a moment, they both looked at you.

"So…" Wayne began. "Trixie would like to ask you something."

"Oh, what is it?" you leaned over to be at about level with the girl. But she, shyly, ran away hiding behind his back.

"Hey, don't be shy." he laughed, grabbed her under the arms and lifted her up seating her between you on the bench.

"Can you color with me?" she asked timidly, covering her face with her small hands. You didn't expect such a proposal. You hadn't had much experience with young children in your life, so you didn't really know how to behave in her company either. The atmosphere was still a bit awkward, but that didn't stop you from agreeing. "Garandpa, can you be my crayons?" she asked with a broad smile.

"What's the magic word?" he asked raising an eyebrow.

"Please!"

When Wayne returned with the crayons and coloring book you laid everything out in front of the two of you. Trixie, unfortunately, was too low to color comfortably on the table, but a solution quickly appeared in her mind. You watched in surprise as she clumsily climbed into your lap and found a place on it. Shock was quickly replaced by a smile as you saw that she was beginning to feel comfortable in your company. As time passed, you too began to relax in hers too.

After a while, your dad also joined you. The next few hours until dinnertime you told Wayne about your life in Indianapolis, in between coloring or playing ball with your new little friend.

As you washed the dishes after dinner you still couldn't get the constant thoughts of the news you found out today out of your head. Slowly you began to regret that you had always run away from the subject of Eddie, that you never wanted to know how he was doing despite the fact that everyone thought it was important and that you should know. Now the truth was out and you yourself didn't know how you felt about it. You also wondered what would have happened if you hadn't left. If you had stayed in Hawkins and been there for him from the beginning. There was a slight twinge of remorse, because you were sure that the beginning had been awfully difficult for him and Wayne, and surely your help would have made everything easier for them. Unfortunately, time cannot be turned back.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of coughing from the bathroom.

"Dad are you okay?" you asked knocking lightly on the door. "Dad?" you asked again when you didn't get an answer.

"'m fine" he said after a long moment still coughing.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"I'm going to get some air, are you coming with me?" you offered.

"No."

"I'll be in front of the trailer if you change your mind." You said and left.

The evening was pleasantly warm. The sun had already gone behind the horizon, and the first stars and moon appeared in the sky. You sat at the table gazing at the sky and returned to getting lost in your thoughts.

You looked toward the trailer that once belonged to Mrs. Gómez. You would have given a lot for one more conversation with her, surely she would have known what to advise you and how to get rid of the burden that had been deposited on your heart. She always knew what to say to make you feel better, she always knew how to find in you the remaining strength to overcome all the problems that stood in your way. Now you had the feeling that you needed her more than ever. Maybe she had always known that this was how it would end between you? Inseparable caterpillars need to drift apart so that later their paths would merge back into one? Was it possible? Was there even a shadow of a hope for rebuilding your relationship? Would there be a place for you in Eddie's current life?

Fate completely as if reading your thoughts made a van pull up in front of the trailer on the opposite side, at the sight of which your heart dropped. Stunned, you watched as a man stepped out of it. Clenching your hands on the edges of the bench, in the dim light of the lamps you saw a familiar but completely different face. His curls were now much shorter yet still wild, seeming to have a life of their own on his head. The stubble covered up some of the fatigue on his face, but the bags under his eyes were all too visible. He was wearing work clothes soiled with grease with a small badge on which his name was written.

When he noticed that someone was sitting at the picnic table he quickly glanced in that direction, thinking it was one of his neighbors. Only after a moment something inside him trembled.

The silhouette was familiar yet seemed completely out of place. He turned around a second time and heavily swallowed, realizing who he was seeing. His heart beat faster and his legs carried themselves toward you. Over the years, he had thought almost every day about what it would be like for you to meet for the first time after all these years. Each time he was racked by mixed feelings, anger at the fact that you had left and longing that made him want to call you every night and beg you to come back. In his thoughts, many times he kept yelling at you for breaking the promise and disappearing from his life without giving a specific reason. There were also visions where he simply brings you down into his arms and doesn't let you out of them, so that you don't disappear again.

Now having you in front of him for the first time in years, he did not feel an ounce of anger. The nostalgia that had been inside him all these years finally seemed to quiet down, and when you got up slowly from the bench and stood in front of him, so that only two steps separated you, he couldn't stop smiling.

"Hi, Eddie." you said quietly awkwardly waving your hand. He quickly grabbed you by it and pulled you close, hugging you tightly. Anger could wait. For years he had been waiting for this moment, for years he had been waiting for the voice of sadness and longing haunting him to disappear.

"Welcome home." he muttered into your hair squeezing you even tighter as he felt your arms tighten around his tummy.

Welcome home. You've heard those two words many times today but now, for the first time, it really felt like it, like you were home.

When Eddie returned to the trailer Trixie was already asleep and Wayne was slowly getting ready for work.

"What got you so smiley, boy?" he asked for the first time seeing his nephew smiling after working overtime.

"Nothin'." Eddie replied, walking over to the refrigerator. "A new drawing?" he asked noticing a colorful unicorn tagged with a magnet on the metal door.

"Yeah, the work of Trixie and her new friend." laughed Wayne.

"New friend?" he asked puzzled, not recalling that there were any new children in the neighborhood for Trixie to play with.

"Yeah, y'know the one who just got back from Indy and moved in across the street." He winked at him and grabbed the door handle.

"She was excited to finally meet the lady from the pictures. Goodnight son." Wayne said and walked out, leaving him alone in the living room.

When he changed out of his work clothes he sat on the couch staring at the photos on the wall. Ever since Trixie came into their lives Wayne had been crazy about photos, so the wall opposite the one with his huge collection of mugs was full of frames with pictures. Wayne claimed it made the place much more family-like. Among them, several photos showed just you and Eddie in different age groups. She was excited to finally meet the lady from the photos. Eddie couldn't help feeling relieved that his current life had revealed itself to you before he had to do so.

taglist: @i-me-mine @phantypurple @tlclick73 @browneyes528 @sidthedollface2 @bellalillyrose

[schrijverr]

Holly's Letter

Years after she last saw her brother and sister, Holly sees the book A Collection of Queer Photography in the stores. It gives her the courage to reach out to them again. This is her letter.

On AO3.

Ships: byler & jargancy, Holly has a husband

Warnings: mentions of past homophobia (vaguely)

~~~~~~~~

Dear Nancy and Mike,

I have started this letter a hundred times already now, because I have so much to tell you and yet I don’t know what to say to you at all. It feels odd to introduce myself, but I almost feel like I have to, since I haven’t seen either of you since I was 9 years old. So, hi, I’m Holly, your little sister. My last name is Richardson now and I am married with two kids.

I am writing you both after reading your book. I try to keep an eye out for such things ever since my eldest, Lisa, came out to me, and I hope you can imagine the shock of seeing your faces after so many years. There, right on the cover, were the two of you, just like I remember from my childhood. Thinking back, I must have stood in that book shop for 30 minutes just staring, before a sales associate asked me if I needed any help. Of course I bought the book.

When I came home, I read it completely and I cried. Truly, I did. It is a weird feeling and I hope I can explain it right. It is weird, because you two left and never turned back and I hated you for a long time over it and now I had answers. Suddenly I knew why you left. And it makes so much sense that you would go and while I am angry and sad at how you left, I am so so glad that you two are happy now. That you found a better family.

Mom and dad divorced in in 1991. They tried to keep it together for my sake, but my mom blamed him for you two leaving and dad- well, dad was just dad. It didn’t work out. I lived with mom and barely talk to dad anymore. It seemed like life fell apart when you two left.

Before now, I never put work into finding either of you. The lack of the internet made it harder, but it was more that I thought you wouldn’t want me there. Like mom, I blamed myself for you leaving, I didn’t understand. Now I do.

I showed mom the book too, she never gave it back, so I bought another copy for myself. I think she has spend days already flipping through the pages and lingering on your faces. I can’t say I blame her, me and my eldest have gone through it together and I told her about her aunt and uncle. All the little things I can still remember from when you still came home. We laughed and we cried and she hugged me. It was a thankful hug and I don’t think I can ever forget it again.

It is probably odd how much I feel like I still relate to you after 28 years, but I do. One of my earliest memories is sitting on the couch with Steve when he was still together with Nancy. I remember the games Mike and the others played in the basement. I remember the fight when you wanted to spend Christmas with the Byers. Little flashes of you, before you were just ghosts haunting family albums and strained conversations with mom or dad.

But it is more than that for me. I never realized how much I am still intertwined with you, even throughout these years without contact. Like, I never realized that the Will Byers, who made my favorite paintings, is the same Will Byers that my older brother was friends with. And I never realized that the article that got mom better pay in 1993 was written by you, Nancy. As a college student I ate at Argyle’s diner with friends after getting drunk. I still braid my hair like Steve taught me. I voted for Erica without making the connection. I also work in education. My husband loves Corroded Coffin. All these little things have bound me to the family you made and that makes me feel connected to you in ways I haven’t in years.

In your book you said you hoped I was okay and that I grew up kind. I hope I am too. I know I grew up okay, I am happy where I am. And I try to be kind, I try to do better. I don’t know if that is enough, but I’m trying. I would love to meet you and your partners. I’d love to catch up with you and hear about everything, even the small things that didn’t make it into the book. And I’d love to tell you about myself and my family too.

Of course, I can understand if you would not want to see me, or if you would, but you’d like not to talk to mom again. I can stand here and tell you how she has changed, how she accepts her granddaughter and treasures the two of you more than her old bigotry, but I don’t think that is my decision to make. So, I’ll leave that to you.

I do hope that you want to see me, that we can catch up and I can get to know your partners more personally, as well as relearn who you two are now. And I hope I can tell you about my husband, Marvin, who is a lawyer, and our two beautiful kids. I’ve already mentioned Lisa, my eldest. She is fifteen now and so smart. She is part of the debate team at her high school and helps run the GSA. Her favorite subject is Math and I’m glad, because I never know how to help Ellie, my youngest, with her Math homework, so her older sister helps her. Ellie is eleven now, already getting way too big for my comfort haha. She’s a little ball of sunshine, always full of energy and smiles. She loves drawing and is so creative. The two are adorable together.

We live in a suburb in a small town near Indiana. I myself work as a preschool teacher nearby, but I only work part time and spend most time looking after the kids while Marvin is at work. We’ve been married for sixteen years now and still going strong. It was so nice to see you also still together with your partners and happy.

I must admit how odd it was to see you grown up. In my mind you two are still the people from ‘89, a young woman and a kid, who just reached into adulthood. Now both of you are fully fledged professionals with families and a career. Just like me.

I know you haven’t been frozen in time, but it felts like it for so long. It is weird to think that you have lived whole lives, had so many experiences, grown so much, and I wasn’t there to see it. Logically, I know the same must be true for you in regards to me, but I can’t help but let it boggle my mind. But I’m glad I got my mind boggled by you looking so happy.

I honestly don’t know if anything in this letter is making sense. No matter how much time has passed since I first picked up your book, my thoughts can’t seem to order themselves. At least not coherently on a piece of paper. However, I do want to reach out and I hope that I’ll get a reply and it will make it easier to place it all.

I also hope that this letter doesn’t come off as accusatory. I admit that I have been bitter in the past, but I have put that behind me. And I completely understand why you did what you did. I think this book has given me the closure I needed to pack away that last inkling that came from not knowing why. Even if this letter gets lost or I never hear back from you, I want to thank you for that.

Rationally, I know I have a thousand more things to tell you, but I’ve also completely blanked on what to say further. So, I’m just going to wrap it up and send it, before I can think about too much and scrap the whole thing again, like I’ve already done so many times.

Much love and kisses,

Holly Richardson

[honeyatsu]

Easily

Sugawara x f!Reader

summary: You don't mind your business and Suga is sick of it.

Mdni. Ageless/blank blogs will be blocked!

ao3 | masterlist | You can join my taglist HERE.

(a/n: I missed writing so I wrote something really quick bc I just needed to write something. I miss it so much but school has me on a chokehold rn. Idk how I feel abt it so idk if it's gonna stay up but its here for now!! lol)

The first ‘movie date’ after months is awkward. You don’t make a sound; you don’t even feel comfortable enough to ask for the popcorn sitting on Suga’s lap. After someone who’s just gone through a breakup, you figure he’s a bit too calm, too smiley, too invested in a cheesy rom-com and dry popcorn, you’d think he hasn’t gone through anything at all.

You’ve been studying him the moment you stepped foot into his apartment, nothing out of the ordinary, you could say he’s been better than he’s usually been. It confuses you; To your knowledge, he and Akane have been doing well since they’ve gotten together. Sugawara was never one for choosing great women for as long as you’ve known him. Always bossy, rude, and extremely jealous. They often wouldn’t like you or your friendship with Sugawara (which you can honestly say you understood, and even agreed to setting firmer boundaries, but he would always say if they didn’t respect your friendship then they just weren’t the one.)

Akane was his most recent girlfriend. You adored her, you could argue you adored her more than he did himself at times. Sugawara met her during a field trip, she worked at the museum he took his students to and she was charmed by him instantly. She was intelligent, kind, and most importantly, completely secure with herself, which resulted in you two getting along instantly – she often praised your relationship with one another, how she loved that her boyfriend had a friend like you in his life.

You always made comments about how much you loved them together, how you couldn’t wait for their wedding day (earning an awkward laugh from both of them). You’d sing praises on how you knew exactly why he fell for her, how you would take her if given the chance, or how they complimented each other well, and it would often earn a small forced grin, and a quick subject change.

Unbeknownst to you or anyone else who was involved in his relationship, it made Suga feel worse. He already felt like a bad guy and knowing he couldn’t be who everyone thought he was made it so much worse. The truth was, he didn’t see what you or anyone else saw. Akane was an amazing woman, he can admit that much. To this day he doesn’t know what he did to deserve a girlfriend who was kind to him, respected him, and loved you almost as much as he did. There was just one problem who would often wish would just go away.

She just wasn’t you.

He knew it wasn’t fair to Akane. He knew what he was doing made him just as bad as the women he’s dated before, or worse because he continued his friendship with you knowing he wanted more. He knew it would be hard to come across a girl like Akane so he tried to settle, he really did, but eventually she caught on, and helped him make the decision he’s been holding back from.

Of course, you didn’t know any of this. Sugawara hasn’t told you anything about the breakup other than the fact he was dumped and he’s okay. Logically, you had a tough time believing that he would be okay after getting broken up with by someone who you could only imagine as his soulmate. He would normally tell you whenever things went south in his life, so it was a bit odd that he avoided this topic. You thought it was because he was too hurt by losing his best relationship.

But this was Sugawara. You of all people knew how handsome, funny, caring, and irresistible he was. You were fully aware Akane knew as well. It was only a matter of time before she would come to her senses, but you decided that it was your job as his best friend to speed up the process.

That’s why when the phone in your bag pings, you pounce off the couch and towards the single sofa where your bag was sitting. You’ve been waiting for what felt like hours, and the message is brief, and too short for your liking: ‘He should be the one to tell you’.

Your eye twitches, thumbs hovering over your screen as you try to process any type of response. It didn’t make sense how none of your questions were being answered and all you wanted to do was help. You think to yourself, fuck it, you don’t need an explanation to save the best relationship Suga would ever be in.

In a matter of seconds you come up with a plan and you were finally able to execute it once Suga fell asleep while watching the movie. You sneakily made your way to him, eyeing his sleeping body up and down, your eyes shifting to his empty pockets. You huff in frustration, feeling like your plan is failing before it even begins, until you see a bright light under his head.

Your shaky hand slowly crept its way to where his phone was, trying your hardest to remove it from it’s spot without waking up Suga. You knew his password by heart – it being the same password he’s used for almost everything since high school.

You begin to scroll through his contacts, finding Akane’s contact information and going straight to the texting option.

It was complicated to figure out exactly how you would go about the plan you came up with out of nowhere. You needed to sound convincing – you needed to find a way to have her back into his arms so your best friend could be in a happy relationship again. It’s complicated to do so when neither one of them is willing to let you know what happened.

And you could mind your business, you really could. But that was never really your thing anyways.

“Hey, I’m really sorry about….”

Erase, erase, erase.

You don’t even know what happened, what could have happened for Suga to be sorry about?

All you know was she left him, and it was up to you to save them.

“I really miss you….” You look to your side, seeing Suga sleeping peacefully. His thick lashes lay across his face, his mouth slightly open with a bit of droll slipping down the corner of his mouth, light snoring exiting his body, his chest rising and falling. You stare down at the sentence you just wrote; conflicted, because he doesn’t look like someone who misses anyone.

“I really miss you…” you continue on anyways, “We’ve been through so much together. I think this is something we should talk more about instead of just throwing away what we’ve had. I love you and don’t want to lose you over anything that can be fixed.”

It took you a few minutes before you hit send, making sure it was not too vague, not too specific, but just right for her to want to reply to him at all. You quickly swipe your finger across the screen, hiding any evidence that there was a message sent that obviously wasn’t from him. After your plan was done you figured you should leave, just in case she decided to call him, you felt like he should use this time for himself

The anxious feeling in the pit of your stomach is hard to ignore. You try to remind yourself what you were doing was coming from a good place. You don’t think about the boundary that was broken, or how it had nothing to do with you, because this was your best friend and his heart, you figured you were helping him. In your own way, you thought you did a good thing.

So when three days go by with no contact from Suga you try not to think too hard about it. You come up with the most reasonable scenario: Akane and Suga made up. They’re spending their days together, trying to fix where they left off, and in no time you three will all be together during a friend date they loved to include you in.

But when you hear loud banging against your apartment door and open it to see a red face, messy haired, and visibly irritated Sugawara; feeling confused is an understatement.

You force a smile, moving to the side as he stomps in after glaring at you for a few seconds after you’ve opened the door. “Hey…” You drag out, your voice a little too high.

“Hey?” His raspy voice echoes back to you, turning on his heel as a twisted smile formed on his face. His chuckle is dry, he brings his hands to his temple, rubbing circles, blinking a few times as he tries to find a way to confront you. “You go behind my back, act like nothing's wrong, and the first thing you have to say to me is hey?”

It bothers you, the tone he’s using with you makes you feel small, as if you’re a child. You frown in response, wrapping your arms around your chest, holding yourself for comfort as you struggle to speak next.

“I didn’t do anything wrong.” You stated – confident and firm.

Suga laughs again, sitting himself on your couch to take in what was just said. He brings his hand to his jaw, holding it before he looks back up at you. “You caused a problem where there wasn’t one.”

You try to hear him out, but you feel insulted, the attempt you made to do him a favor is being thrown right in your face. You did the hard part, all he had to do was try and win her back.

“It’s not my fault you couldn’t get her back. I tried my best!”

He groans your name in annoyance, stepping up and facing you. You look up at him, sharing the same glare as him. “I didn’t want her back. You just made me out to be a liar, manipulator, and a scummy person. Everything was okay, and now I have to deal with her calling me all types of names. You’re lucky I made it sound like you were trying to help.”

“I was trying hmph – !”

Suga’s hand comes up to your face – cupping it and slightly squeezing your cheeks together, causing you to stop talking. You’re not sure why your heart started racing at the action or why your chest is beating at the way he’s looking down at your lips.

He sighs your name before scanning your face, slowly letting it go. “You don’t even know what happened. And you coudn’t just mind your business.”

Shuffling on your feet, you try to think of something to say, but the guilt you’ve been avoiding has slowly crept its way back into you. Sure, you did something a little crazy, but your intention was to help, not make anything worse.

“She came to my place the same day you decided to text her. You know, when you tried to pretend to be me.” Your face burns as he points it out, trying to turn your head to the side so he could avoid your face, but he brings his fingers, holding it in place. He lifts your chin up so you’re staring directly at him, making sure you’re not avoiding anything.

You feel guilty. You feel guilty for breaking his trust. For not minding your business. For realizing how handsome he can be when he’s upset.

“You did a good job,” he chuckled to himself. His grin makes you excited and uneasy all at once. “She thought I sent it. Really, she came in fuming. Saying I was cruel, for playing with her heart like that. Like I wasn’t giving her a chance to actually move on.”

“I don’t…” Suga’s gaze on you was curious – he wanted to hear what you would say next. “She broke up with you. So why….why does she need to move on?”

“Because she found out I didn’t love her.”

It was then you pushed him away, your eyes wide as you looked up at him in shock. You want to scream, how he could have found someone so perfect for him and to just claim something so bold, and something that should sound so wrong, yet made you so excited.

You take a slight step back, your nerves shaking at the tension in the air between the two of you. Both of your chest slowly rise and fall, heavy breathes and deep stares at one another as you both scan your faces, eyes falling at each other's lips everytime.

“How…How did you manage to mess that up, Koshi?”

He rolls his eyes as he takes one step forward, getting closer to you and bringing his hands to your face one more time. This time with tilting your head up towards him, he slowly leans his head down, inches away from yours.

“You’re ruining the moment…” He whispers, his nose now touching yours.

You gulp in response, unaware of how to answer him. Stuttering incoherent words before he cuts you off, “Just tell me to stop.”

You say nothing and he looks into your eyes for confirmation, for any sign of hesitation he can find. When none was found his face slowly leaned closer into yours, breaking the small space you had between you two. Next thing you knew you felt the warmth of his skin overlap yours, butterfly kisses trailing your lips, small, light, and delicate. As if he was trying to not scare you away, the kiss was soft, neither of you wanted to overwhelm the other – the kiss lasted long enough for you two to have inhaled each other's breath and remember the feeling of being brought together at once.

“Uhm…Oh.” Was what you managed to breathe out once you two have parted.

Suga stares at you dumbfounded, eyebrows arched as he mimics back at you, “Oh?”

You’re silent enough for him to laugh at your expression, confused, a loss for words, and flustered. “You know for us to work out, you need to be able to say what's on your mind. Not just assume and overthink…or text my exes.”

A slight gasp escapes your lips as he slowly turns away from you, casually sitting down on your sofa, turning on your tv as if nothing has happened. You feel as if you’ve lived three different lifetimes in the matter of fifteen minutes – and Suga just stares at you, his signature grin and laughter bursting out at your expression. “C’mon! We did the awkward part already. I forgive you for going behind my back. Can we please finally just enjoy each other's company the way we’ve both been wanting to for a while now?”

You slowly make your way to him, sitting beside him and bringing your legs to your chest, holding yourself for comfort. “What made you think I wanted you like that?”

“Well, when you put others happines and what you think they want before yours, people can’t help but think you might feel something for them.” He looks at you to see your reaction, gleeing at your wide eyes when you come to the realization of why you always put his happiness over your own and always went the extra mile for him. You slap your hand over your face, feeling embarrassed when everything hits you at once. He chuckles, bringing his arm over your shoulder and shoving your body into his.

It leaves you breathless, how an act you’ve done together often can feel so different with one shift in your relationship with him.

“Is this okay?” He mutters into your shoulder.

You lift your head to see the side of his face, his bright hazel-brown eyes boring into your own reassuring you that your comfort was priority in this instant.

“Yes” you whisper back – nuzzling your face back into his chest. “This is perfect.”

[cazimagines]

Never break the chain

Synopsis: You were Zemo’s devoted girlfriend, he would take you all over the world and treat you to everything you want in life however that all changed the day Sokiva fell. Consumed by anger Zemo went off the deep end trying to avenge his fallen country and you last saw him being escorted to prison. Years later you became really ill and there was only one thing that could save you. After a lot of searching you finally managed to get your hands on some super soldier serum which saved you however Zemo is now out of prison as is determined to finish what he started no matter what stood in his way.

Warnings/Tags: Bad Zemo, Mentions of guns, Toxic relationship, Almost cried while writing this, Hits in the feelings, Lots of angst, So much angst, Mentions of death

Word count: 1.7k

Author’s note: Hello my fellow masochists *cough* Markiplier *cough*, I for one thrive on sad moments in fics, ones that break my heart. I live off angst and I am sure I am not the only one in this so I have written this angsty Zemo fic. There is no fluff here just sadness so you have been warned. I’m going to write a really sweet and fluff filled one shot after this as an apology. Also warning this relationship is toxic so like obviously I don’t condone Zemo’s behaviour in this, he’s meant to be a dick here.

I got inspired to write this from a song so like if you want extra emotions listen to this: https://youtu.be/1A8YpV1tfsQ

This is also being posted on my ao3 account under the name Casmad

The wind blew sharply against you, the coldness of it scratching your skin. Your eyes water up slightly at the harshness of it and you wrap your arms around your body trying to warm yourself up. You looked out over the cliff, looking over now the deserted area you once called home. Sokovia. Its beautiful landscape is broken and torn apart. An echo of how magnificent it once was. You raise your hand to touch the chain that hung around your neck. A reminder of the past.

“Darling I would be honored if you wore this for me. I have a similar one I’ll always keep around my neck so that even when we are apart, there’s a part of us that will always be together” Zemo asks nervously, swallowing and glancing from the necklace in his hand to your face.

You put your hands onto his, taking the necklace, “I’ll never take it off”

Zemo’s face broke out into a smile, his eyes shining as he wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his chest. He holds you closely as you close your eyes melting into his presence. He kisses the top of your forehead and rests the top of his head on yours. “My beautiful moon” he murmurs

A tear slowly slipped down your cheek as you thought back to better times. You had been so happy with him. You two had planned your whole lives out together. The Baron and Baroness.

“Would you care to accompany me to the ball?” Zemo asks, holding his arm out to you.

“Oh I don’t know should I?” you joke, holding your chin in your hand as if questioning it, making Zemo chuckle.

“If you do I promise you can be in charge in the bedroom tonight,” he says as he leans into you. You grin back at him, raising your hand to his suit jacket and pulling him towards you for a kiss. As you feel his lips on yours and his hand rests on your hip you smile into the kiss. As you pull back you swell with happiness seeing a rosy tint to Zemo’s cheeks.

“I suppose turning up to to a ball on the arm of a Baron has its perks”

Zemo laughs and pulls you into a side hug placing a kiss on your temple.

“What would I do without you” he hums to himself as he admires you “My moon”

Everything made sense, everything fit. You couldn’t imagine a life any different till it happened.

You and Zemo had been away visiting a local country when you heard of the news. You collapsed on the floor screaming at the tv as Zemo was on the phone already organizing a trip back home. When you arrived your heart broke seeing all the destruction. Zemo was holding your hand but he let go. It was all gone. Everything. Your whole life had changed just like that.

You wipe the tears away from your cheeks yet they continue to flow as you remembered what happened after. The madness and desire for revenge had consumed Zemo. You tried to stop him. You really did but what could you have done?

“Helmut, please. This isn’t healthy...this...this isn’t you!” you cried as Zemo was preparing his attack on the avengers

“Y/n I have to do this. There is no other way” he angrily replied, refusing to look at you.

“I can’t support this” you whisper, grabbing a hold of his arm. “I can’t watch you do this”

Zemo looks at you, his face forlorn as he watches the tears fall from your eyes. He pulls you to his chest wrapping his arm around you and kisses the top of your head, stroking your hair. “I’m not asking you to moon”

You leave the warmth of his arms and watch as he grabs his bags and walks out of your room, giving you one last glimpse of goodbye before he walks out of your life.

That was the last time you saw him in person. The next time it was on the news as he was being arrested. In the end, his plan had succeeded. He split up the avengers but then what? It didn’t bring anyone back. Sokovia was still dead and you were left behind while he was locked up for life.

You close your eyes, squeezing out the remains of your tears, preparing to leave this cliff looking over your deserted town when you hear the sound of a click. You let in a sharp breath of recognition. Slowly turning around your eyes adjust to the barrow of a gun and the person standing behind it.

Zemo.

He still looked the same as you remembered. Though if you stared closely you could see lines showing his age starting to appear, the bags under his eyes were bigger than what they once were however after all this time it was still him. He even wore that ridiculously over-the-top coat that you always stole from him.

His eyes however were different, when you always looked into them in the past they seemed warm, like the feeling of drinking hot chocolate. You could melt in them but now they were stone cold. Emotionless. Like he wasn’t even there.

“Zemo…” you breathed out focusing on him

“I planned to eliminate all superheroes” he states

You shake your head at him, “Zemo please”

“I’ve almost completed my plan to rid the world of superheroes, of ‘super soldiers’”

“Please let me explain,” you say starting to take a step forward to him but he quickly raises his other hand grasping the gun, holding it in both hands now and pointing it at you making you stop in your tracks.

“How could you,” he spits, his lips drawing back in a snarl “How could you become one of them!”

“I had no choice” You rasp, tears starting to flow from your eyes again, “I would have died otherwise”

“THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED THAN TAKEN IT” Zemo shouts

The colour drains from your face, your eyes widen in shock staring at him. His jaw tightens as he glares at you. You both stand there in silence taking in what he had said.

Wiping the side of your tear-stained cheek you smile sadly at him, sniffing, you step forward again resting your forehead against the gun.

“Okay” you simply say, your throat feeling like sandpaper as you utter those words

Zemo glares at you, his finger resting on the trigger. The gun starts to shake as he clenches his face in anger.

“DAM IT” he shouts, throwing the gun to the side. His hands grab onto your shoulders roughly, causing you to hiss in pain.

“Why are you doing this to me y/n. How could you do this to me” He snaps.

You were too shocked to reply to him, causing him to get even angrier. His eyes swarmed with tears and when one threatened to fall he pushed you back and turned away so you wouldn’t see.

You shakily let out a breath you were holding in and collapsed onto your knees. Your heart was beating rapidly against your chest and you clenched the sides of your body with your arms in comfort.

Zemo turns back around to you, hatred in his eyes. “I’ve come so far, killing so many just to be stopped here”

“Because you refuse to kill the woman you love” you implored in hope but he shakes his head, “No. Not that”

“Yes, yes that Zemo!” you say shakily getting back up off the ground. “Zemo I still love you though by gods I shouldn’t. We made a promise to each other” you affirmed holding up the chain around your neck, “We were forever Zemo”

Zemo’s finger brushed up against the chain that had been hanging around his neck for the past seven years. They wrap around the chain and in one swift motion, he pulls it off his neck, breaking the chain and throwing it to the ground.

You stare at the broken chain on the floor, your heart dropping. In just one notion it was like all those moments you two spent together were worth nothing. It had led to nothing.

Zemo grabs ahold of your chain and pulls you closer to him, “The truth is, my darling moon, that you don’t love me either”

You try to argue back to him but he raises his finger to your lips, “ah”

“You want to know how I know?”

You don’t say anything, staring at him confused, he leans towards you and automatically you close your eyes however he instead he puts his lips to your ears,

“You’ve been calling me Zemo instead of Helmut”

He lets go of the chain, pushing you away from him again, the force knocking you to the ground.

You think back over your conversation. He was right. When had you started referring him to his last name rather than his first name? You had always called him by his first name before.

You look back up to him, your eyes watering and noticing the tears starting to fall from his eyes.

“I spent years in that prison imaging what it would be like to finally get out. To hold you in my arms once again. To have what we once had. It was the only thing that kept me going in there. You can’t even begin to imagine the pain I felt when I found out the truth. The pain of your betrayal. I hated you. I...I” his voice cracked as he started to cry more

He keeps trying to stop letting out a sob yet his mouth can’t help but frown and his face contorted. “I thought I could stop the pain by getting rid of you but I can’t. Even though I can’t stand looking at you I can’t kill you”

He swallows and looks away from you to the chain on the ground, “I don’t want to ever see you again.”

You could have said something then. Called out to him. Spoke sense to him. He might have even listened but you didn’t. You didn’t say anything. You didn’t try to stop him. You couldn’t even look him in the eyes.

He turns his back and starts to walk away but stops for a moment, turning his head slightly.

“Goodbye y/n”

[greekowl87]

Fic: The Missing Beat

Disclaimer: Don’t own any of this. Just writing for fun.

Author’s note: It’s been a hot minute since I’ve written anything. I’ve had a lot going on in real life with 2021 and struggled a lot. Ongoing issues with my anxiety (mixed in with some depression) have been really bad and I’m just trying to feel normal again, or as normal as one can these days. I started working on this in October so that gives you an idea of how much I’ve struggled with writing. It’s not my best, but at least I have something to start the new year off writing. I hope 2022 is going to be better. Missing ‘Arcadia’ scene.  Warning: smut ahead.

@today-in-fic @baronessblixen If AO3 is more your thing: here’s the link.

“Scully,” Mulder called from downstairs, “I can’t take that couch another night.”

His voice echoed and carried through the empty house that they still had yet to unpack. At this rate, Scully wasn’t even sure how much longer their undercover would last since Big Mike’s disappearance put a damper in their investigation. That, and the mysterious letter Mulder had revealed that had magically appeared in their mailbox. But she still had to make the trip to San Diego to run the new pieces of evidence they had dug up tonight, and that was at least a two-hour drive.

“Well, you’re going to both keep us up at this rate,” she shouted back. She laid back on the bed and tried to close her eyes. “Please just go to bed,” she whispered to herself.

Scully heard his heavy footsteps jog up the stairs and she inwardly sighed. She had an idea where this would eventually end up. Without missing a beat, she sat up in bed and leaned against the headboard. She looked up to the bedroom door and saw Mulder dressed in sweats, a t-shirt, and holding his pillow from the night before. “So, we need to fix that,” he countered.

“You came all the way to tell me that? It couldn’t wait till morning, Mulder?”

“No,” he said. “Wait, did I wake you?”

“No,” she sighed. “I wasn’t asleep. I’m up now. And what do you propose? Is it not enough?”

“That marriage bed is big enough for the two of us,” he replied. “That couch is like laying on a bag of rocks. I can’t sleep on it.”

The queen size bed was more than big enough. It was a similar size to what Scully had in her own Georgetown apartment. Scully deadpanned at Mulder. “No,” she said quickly.

“No? That’s it? You can’t think of anything else? Why not?” He contested. Mulder ignored her pointed gaze and went to the right side of the bed. “We’ve shared a bed before.”

“When there was no other choice at the time. Mulder, I’m tired and I want to go to bed. I have to drive to San Diego in the morning and I want to sleep.”

“I see you took off the…” He motioned to her face. “What do you call it?”

“A face mask?”

“A face mask? Really? I would have said something like the creature from the black lagoon,” he shrugged.

“I didn’t see a need to wear it tonight.” Scully frowned, suddenly growing self-conscious. She looked away as her cheeks blushed. “You don’t need to be so blunt about it.”

“Blunt? I didn’t say anything wrong, did I?”

“I don’t know. Did you?” The harshness of Scully’s tone made Mulder recoil a bit. “I’m sorry. I’m just not in the mood tonight.”

Their bedroom in the McMansion had a television already built into the bedroom along with a huge entertainment center downstairs. The first night in the house, Scully could hear the sound vibrating through the walls before Mulder forgot to turn off the surround sound to the television as he fell asleep in the early morning hours. She didn’t get any sleep that night. This was compounded by the fact she was unable to sleep in her bed.  Despite all the traveling that she did, she always managed to sleep fairly well in the endless motel and hotel beds with their lumpy mattresses and scratchy sheets. But it was something about this place that kept her up at night.

Ignoring her warnings, he went to sit on the edge of her side of the bed. He tossed the pillow onto the bed next to her. Mulder frowned, going through his catalog of memories. “Are you upset about your birthday?”

“What? No, Mulder.” His comment caught her off guard and she looked away once he started to stare at her intently. “Stop it, Mulder.”

In the six years she had known him, he only made a big deal about her 33 birthday and that was when she was still battling cancer. He might wish her a happy birthday off-hand but she comes to expect not much. She had hoped that after her miraculous cure over a year ago, something would change between them, in the more positive effect. But not anymore, especially after the past couple of months.

The closeness between them was making her feel uncomfortable. Scully gathered her pillow and moved to get out of bed to grab her robe. “Well, if you are taking the bed, I guess I will take the couch.”

“Oh, come on, Scully,” Mulder remarked. “Are you that uptight?”

“Excuse me?”

“You’ve been uptight since we got here. Every time I try to hug you or do something like a husband would do, you always look incredibly uncomfortable.”

“Maybe I am,” she said. “What does it matter anyway? It’s all pretend, right? It doesn't matter. But look, it’s not a big deal. I’ll take the couch, you can have the bed. We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

“Hold on there just a second, Laura,” he said, reaching for her hand.

Scully couldn’t pull her hand out of his grasp. “Mulder, let go.”

“I was a bad partner and I should have given you these on the day we moved in, your birthday and all.” He got up and dug through a gym bag that held some of his items. In the side pocket of the bag, he pulled out a small wrapped robin blue box with a white bow. “Happy birthday, Scully.”

She took the box with some hesitation and he reclaimed his spot next to her on the bed. “Don’t worry, it’s not going to jump out and bite. I just figured it was something nicer than the fake pearls the FBI provided for this little undercover gig.”

She arched her eyebrow skeptically which made him smile. She carefully opened the box and pulled back the tissue paper. Her breath hitched and she wordless said his name. He smiled as his late birthday gift had the intended effect. “Better than a keychain. Happy belated birthday, Scully.”

“How could you afford these?” She asked. She lightly touched the pearls. “They’re beautiful, Mulder.”

“How could I afford a trip to Antarctica? I have my ways. Do you like them?”

Scully felt all annoyance and anger leave her quickly. “They’re beautiful, Mulder.”

“I know things have been…” He paused trying to pick the right word. “Difficult between us. I can tell this assignment has been…”

“Difficult?”

“Yeah.”

He looked down at his hands, having imagined this conversation being a lot easier. He sighed and looked at the empty spot of the bed. She caught his gaze and supplied, “It’s probably best if we stick together tonight. With the hole in the yard and Big Mike…”

“I agree,” he said. “Do you mind if I leave the tv on? I know you don't keep one in your room.”

“It’s fine,” she said.

“I double-checked and locked the doors and windows downstairs.”

He turned down the covers on the other side of the bed and Scully set the gift on the nightstand. As he got under the covers, she passed him the tv remote and turned off the light. Mulder crawled next to her and got under the blankets. She turned onto her side, back facing him, as he found ESPN. He even lowered the volume and turned off the opposite lamp for her.

“Thanks,” she said.

“What?”

She turned over so she could repeat, “Thank you.”

Mulder muted the TV and asked, “How come we don’t talk anymore?”

“What do you mean?”

“We don’t talk anymore. Not like we used to. Even when we were separated six years ago and you went to teach at the academy, we talked.”

“We talked? I had to trick you into meeting me in the parking garage of the Watergate just to talk to you. Do you somehow forget that?” She asked.

“Touché,” he replied. “But you couldn’t have left me this time. I was, uh, half expecting you too.”

“Well, who else was going to do background checks with you?”

“You could’ve. With Ritter?”

“The agent who shot me or have you forgotten?”

“I haven’t forgotten.”

He slid underneath the covers so he could be at the same level as her. Only the light of the television lit the room lit their faces. She twisted fully so she could face them. Without thinking, he reached out under her shirt to feel the raised scare an inch up diagonally to the left. She jumped at his touch but didn’t stop him.

“I can never forgive myself for that,” he told her.

“You couldn’t have been there to stop it,” she told him. She reached for his hand, pulling it away. “But you were there on the first flight to New York. You were there when I woke up and I was ready to kick you out.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

Mulder just watched her. “We haven’t been communicating that well these past weeks, have we? Maybe we should go to one of those communication seminars.”

“I don’t know how I feel about being lost in the woods being chased by mothmen again.”

“And Arcadia couldn’t be any worse.”

“At least the bedroom is comfortable.”

She giggled. Real, belly full giggling. Mulder smiled. “I haven’t been the best partner these past few months either. I’ve taken some things for granted.”

The seriousness of his voice caught her attention and she stopped her laughter. “Which part?”

“A lot of it.” He gulped audibly. “And I’m sorry for doubting you.”

She sighed. It wasn’t exactly what she wanted, but they had been so off in their routine. Pretending to be a married couple had made it worse. “It’s a start,” she said. “Thank you for the birthday present, Mulder. You should try to get some sleep.”

Scully gave him a weak smile and turned on her back, thinking that was the end of it. She tried to close her eyes and forget Mulder was laying next to her only a few inches away. Mulder audibly groaned in frustration and flopped onto his back. She felt the impact next to her.

“What now? Is this bed too soft, Goldilocks?”

“No, no,” he said.

“Well, is there not enough room?”

Scully sat up in bed to turn on the lamp. “What is wrong?”

“I just thought there was more to this conversation.”

Something flipped in Scully; it wasn’t what he said it, it was the way he said it. The same condescending tone he used with her outside of the Gunmen before they went to chase down Cassandra Spender. “Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“You’ve been talking down to me. Not just this assignment or Florida, but ever since that night at the Gunmen’s. Would you rather have her than me?”

“What?”

The unexpected question caused him to sit up. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Don’t play stupid,” she said. “How long are we going to keep doing this to each other, Mulder?”

He sighed and replied, “That’s a good question.”

“Do you want me gone,” she asked finally. She was avoiding looking at him. “I mean, I’m sure it wouldn’t be an issue.”

“No.” He lifted his hand and froze. “No. I don’t want you to go anywhere.”

She saw his hesitant action out of the corner of her eye. “What?” She asked. “What were you going to do? Some pearl earrings to fix it?”

“No.” He sighed and replied, “This…I know this isn’t you or me, but I like it. I like pretending. I wish it was more than pretending, Scully.”

“What?” He could have confessed to her that Einstein was an alien. The confession had left his lips before he had realized the impact of what he had said. “What did you just say?”

“Nothing,” he admonished, laying back down and turning on his side and away from her.  “Nothing.”

“No. You don’t get to say something like that and brush it off, Mulder. What do you mean you wish you could do more than pretend? What does that mean?”

“I mean I wish this wasn’t pretend.” He shifted back so he could face her again. “I wish it was real sometimes.”

The unsaid word in his apartment’s hallway from the previous summer hung heavily between them. It was, of course, their nature not to say anything like this or discuss it. Maybe that FBI communications seminar had failed. But something about that night was special before it had been stolen away by that damn bee.

“I also meant what I said in that hallway,” he said. “You make me a whole person. I wouldn’t have gone to Antarctica for anyone. Not Diana certainly. That night, I wanted to tell you more but…”

“The damn bee,” she whispered.

“The damn bee.”

He took a moment to look at her. She had that look when she was thinking a thousand miles per hour, about to be on the cusp of something great. “What were you gonna say that night?”

Mulder could have laughed at the irony of this moment. “Well, Laura, do you believe in fate? Since you’re all into the New Age stuff.”

“Faith and fate are two different things, Mulder,” she answered.

“I would have kissed you,” he said. “Told you I love you.”

Scully was quiet. She opened her mouth to say something but no words came out. Mulder seized the moment to do any with any doubt. He pulled her in for a kiss. He wasn’t graceful nor as romantic as he would have imagined. He had cupped her cheeks like he did that night before. He tried to put all the feelings and emotions into that one kiss. He lingered, gently biting her bottom lip as he pulled away. He hoped it was enough.

She had grabbed his wrist, trying to steady herself. Scully felt like all the wind had been knocked out of her. She looked up into his eyes and saw the same passion and zeal from that summer night again. “Something like that,” he said, his voice just above a whisper, “is something I can’t put into words that well.”

She licked her lips as if trying to taste him again. “Well, we always seem to say more without actually saying anything.”

“Can I again, Scully?” He asked in a whisper. “Please?”

It was like a little kid who had sneaked dessert and wanted more. “Yes.” She wanted more too. “I would very much like that.”

Before the last words escaped her lips, Mulder had cupped her face again. He was also in the process of bringing her closer so things wouldn’t be as awkward between them. He was already trying to ease her down to make kissing her less difficult, but she was taking the lead instead, pushing him back and down into the pillows. “Scully,” he said in between kisses, “slow down, we need to figure this out.”

“There’s nothing to figure out,” she told him. The kiss had done something more than finish what had been started in his hallway back during the summer. “Mulder, let me take the lead on this. You trust me, don’t you?”

Mulder’s foggy brain smoked with arousal at the current situation they found themselves in. Was that even a question? His hesitation caused her to arch her eyebrow. Then suddenly, the past comments and tension all made sense. “I’m sorry,” he blurted out.

“Sorry,” she asked. “Was this…”

She was already changing her mind and pulling away. Mulder had to change tactics before he blew this chance. His hands firmly planted her waist so that she was facing him. She changed instantly. “Not a mistake,” he said. “I do trust you. I’m just…there’s so much I want to say and do it right the first time.”

She shifted slightly and looked down between them. “I can safely say you’re doing something right.”

She burst out laughing, all seriousness disappearing as she wrapped her arms around his neck to kiss him again. She delved her tongue into his mouth, desperate to taste him.  Mulder leaned back as she leaned more into him. His head hits the pillows and his hands begin to wander under her pajama top. Since coming to Arcadia, she had worn these light, cotton pajamas instead of silk. It was nearly as elaborate compared to what she usually wore. It felt foreign against his hands as if he had done this before.

They continued to kiss each other, nipping and teasing one another like love-struck teenagers. Whatever this was, it was nice. “Mulder,” she whispered.

“Hmmm?”

Her fingers went beneath his t-shirt and he gently stopped her. He tsked admonishingly. “No fair, Scully,” he said.

“How come?”

“You’ve been teasing me and driving me insane since we got here.”

It was an adjustment seeing Scully out of her business suits and in casual clothes. He had seen her in pajamas as well, but this…whatever this was for them was different. Gently, he popped the first button off her top. “And what do you plan on doing there, Mulder?”

A second button. Then a third. Then a fourth. It was agonizingly slow and she felt him move beneath him in response as he peeled away part of the top. Her toes curled in anticipation. This wasn’t the first time he had seen her naked. She was aware of what transpired when he had rescued her from that ship this past summer. But that had been rushed. This was entirely different. She briefly thought about when they examined each other on that icy cape with one of their first cases. That had been pretty sensual, especially when she was getting to know them. This…this was something else.

He reached out to cup one of her breasts and she shivered. He was gentle and she shivered. “Is everything okay? Is this okay, Scully?”

“Your hand is cold,” she chuckled. “And yes, this is fine.”

It was more than fine.

Scully’s back arched slightly as she finished the move and took off her top. “Impatient?”

“Very.”

Despite months of not being on the same page, the trust issues, and the fighting, none of that seemed to matter. He went from admiring her front side to inspecting it up until closing, leaving a trail of kisses down to her sternum. “Enough with this teasing,” she laughed.

Mulder looked up. “Why, Mrs. Petrie, I do believe you just laughed.”

“Scully, Mulder,” she said. “No need to be snide. And besides, this needs to be a two-way street. Off.”

He laughed and took off his shirt. Scully bit her lip to keep from smiling more. This was so unlike her. By all accounts, her focus should have been on the case and they should be focusing on looking for the missing persons. But this required all her attention at the moment.

“I just had a thought,” she whispered, “this could be considered a team-building exercise?”

Mulder was laying back on the bed, Scully straddling his waist topless. This was the stuff of fantasies. “We need one of those, don’t we?”

He was busy trying to take all this in for his photographic memory. He didn’t know the next time he would see something like this again. “I’d say.” She bent forward to kiss him. She sought his hands and restrained them above his head. “Do you trust me, Mulder?”

This was something he hadn’t anticipated either. “Yes,” he said without hesitation.

She nodded and bent forward to kiss him again. Mulder lifted his hips in response, and she moaned into his mouth at the contact between her thighs that continued to straddle him. This teasing was driving him mad. Now that they were in this moment, there was much more he wanted to do. In one smooth motion, Mulder overpowered her and reversed their positions. Scully let out a cry of surprise. “What happened to trusting me?”

“I do trust you,” he said, “but do you know how long I have dreamed of this, Scully?”

Dreamed of this? Did he dream of this between them? Scully felt her thighs clench and moisten. “No idea,” she breathed.

He took the time to lavish attention equally to each breast before kissing her abdomen. He lingered near the bright pink scar right above her belly button. His lips moved rhythmically as if he was whispering against her. She squirmed. Each deliberate movement of his was stroking her fire. “What are you doing there?”

“Whispering thanks,” he told her. He looked up to her and smiled. “Just for you still being here.”

He gave her that same, warm smile that he had given her right after she’d woken up in the hospital. It made her feel warm all over. “You’re such a sap,” she whispered.

“There's a lot that I have to show you.”

Her eyes were a deeper shade of blue, full of desire. He led a trail of kisses down to her hips. She squirmed again. To prevent her from moving, he placed his hands on either side of her hips, grazing her skin. She bit her lip, trying not to let out a laugh. He looked up mischievously. “Ticklish, Agent Scully?”

“Sometimes. It’s a very fine line.”

“Noted.”

He kissed the cloth barrier and she bucked her hips. “Mulder, quit teasing,” she moaned. “Do something.”

“Something?” He pulled down the last barrier and tasted her. She let out a moan she didn’t realize she had been holding. “Like that?”

“Just like that. Whatever…you do…just don’t stop.”

She closed her eyes as Mulder went back to work. It had been so long (and much better than she had dreamed about). She tried to relax into the waves of sensation that were building like a roller coaster. Up and down, up, feeling suspended in the air like an astronaut, down, up…

“Still with me, Scully?”

“Um-hm,” she managed. Her eyes were closed and her toes were curling the sheets. Until he hit the right spot. She moaned in ecstasy. “Right there, Mulder.”

After she climaxed, Mulder found her lips again, kissing her smugly. She could taste them. “Wow,” she murmured.

Mulder’s own wanting had become unbearable at this point. “Scully, I don’t know how much longer I can last,” he murmured into her ear.

“One of the miracles of the female body. I’m always up for more,” she teased. She gently bit his ear lobe and Mulder swore he could have melted right there on top of her. “What else do you got, Mulder?”

Scully felt brazen and invigorated in a way she hadn’t before. Maybe playing house with Mulder was doing more than she had imagined. Maybe it was just the fact they were able to finally get out six years of tension. Whatever it was, she liked it. A lot.

Almost sluggishly, he shed the last of his clothes with her help. He rolled to the side so they both could take at this moment. “Scully?”

“Hmmm?”

“Do you know how beautiful you are?”

The off-hand compliment made her blush. He kissed her again. Her hands wrapped around his neck and she guided him to her. Mulder didn’t need to be told twice. All flirtations were pushed aside and he entered her in one smooth action. She sighed at the contact and they both were momentarily awed in the silence.

“Move,” she commanded softly.

For so long, they had difficulty with communication. Everything felt forced and awkward. Playing husband and wife had made it worse. But this…everything about this felt different. Natural. Right. They were slow but began to increase in rhythm. Scully could feel it coming again. “Mulder,” she whispered.

Her nails scratched his back. “I know,” he breathed, “I’m so close, Scully.”

“So am I.”

Scully interlocked her hips around his waist and Mulder increased his urgency. She didn’t see it coming. This had felt different, more intimate than all the other times she had sex before. But it hit her like a train. He had been biting her shoulder lightly as she cried out his name.

“Stars, Scully,” he whispered. “I see stars with you.”

“What?”

As they came down from their high, he was chuckling, moving her slightly so that they could see each other again. “I saw stars,” he laughed. “That’s never happened before.”

Scully herself was still floating in space and trying to come back to Earth. She had never had anything like that happen before. Never had anything been that good. “I know what you mean,” she murmured. She smiled sheepishly. “You know, this team-building exercise is entirely unprofessional.”

“So sue me.”

He kissed her neck tenderly and whispered, “Why don’t you take a quick shower, clean up and I’ll change the sheets.”

“That’s nice of you.”

“Well, I have my moments.”

As Scully got out of bed to head to the bathroom and clean herself off, she wondered what was next. What were their next steps? This shift in their relationship was unknown territory for them. As she came back out wearing a new set of cotton pajamas, Mulder had changed the top sheet and fixed the comforter. He was back in his sweats without his shirt (which she didn’t mind).

“Ready for bed, Scully?”

She bit her lip and asked. “So that’s it?”

“What’s it? I hope not.” He looked at the red alarm clock. “But it is 1:15 am and I haven’t forgotten you have to drive down to San Diego in the morning.”

“Whatever just happened,” she said, looking down at her feet. “I hope it’s not the last?”

Ball’s in his court, she thought. He smiled. “I didn’t plan on it. Just not here, for obvious reasons. Are you ready for bed, Laura?”

“Scully, Mulder,” she corrected before crawling into the bed on the right side.

“Sorry,” he grinned. “Anything else before bed, Scully?”

“Are you going to stand there or are you going to join me?”

Mulder grinned and reclaimed the left side of the bed. “You know, I would much prefer you…”

“Mulder, don’t push it. And I thought we both agreed that this would happen again. It’s not a one-time thing. Besides, we still have a case to solve.” Mulder hesitantly reached out for her and Scully pulled his arm around her like another blanket. “Or have you forgotten that too?”

“I haven’t.” He nuzzled the back of her neck. “Quit being a smart ass.”

“Not being a smartass. Being the smart one. Remember, I’m the smart one in this marriage.”

He chuckled. “I think you mean partnership.”

“Whatever. You’ve never been one for semantics.”

She yawned and moved to turn off the light. He pulled her closer. “Well, at least we’re communicating again, Scully. That means we’re back in beat again, right?”

“Yes,” she answered.

“Rob and Laur move over, Mulder and Scully are back in town.”

She laughed. “Knock it off. I still my beauty sleep.”

“You know this is just a new chapter,” he whispered.

“Mulder, shut up,” she whispered in amusement.

Mulder laughed as he turned off the other light.

[sweeethinny]

Emerald Eyes

Summary: After Lily Evans kisses him, James needs help to figure out what to do in that situation. And who better to help him and Sirius with relationship issues if not his dad?

Notes: I was reading @startanewdream's fanfic Exist Song (For Film) when she wrote about a song that spoke of emerald eyes.

I remembered the song Claudia by Finneas, and needed to write about Jily's first kiss, and somehow get Fleamont involved.

I don't think I've ever read a fanfic where he helps James and Sirius with relationship issues, so I wrote it! I know James only becomes prefect in seventh year, but I needed him to become sixth, to make sense of the story.

sue me

AO3

-------

James was fine about just being friends with Lily, really, he was up for it and he liked being friends with her. Of course, he still thought about kissing her and, dammit, sometimes dreamed of her with her clothes off and couldn't look her in the eye for the next three days. But overall, he was fine with his old crush.

Everything was fine, it was just a crush, he would get over it.

He liked other girls over the last few years, liked hanging out with them, kissing them, and there was one muggle girl that James really thought was going to be something more serious - he even lost his virginity to her. But things didn't go as it should and life went on. Sirius comforted him that his crush on Lily was probably because he idealized her in a way that it was now difficult for him to like other girls, but that James needed to let go of the 'what ifs' and move on.

James tried, he swears he did.

But when Lily Evans kissed him on the train back to King Cross, after a prefect meeting where James was trying not to sleep, things completely fell apart for him.

When he got back to his friends, James felt very lost, and Remus even asked if he was alright, but all James could do was nod and touch his lips in fear that the feeling of Evans' soft, sweet lips would go away and he realized it was a dream.

As much as he had dreamed very hot things about Lily, they never kissed, so James wasn't prepared for it at all, he was just imagining it was supposed to be good. But it wasn't just good, it was stupidly good.

So good that he spent all the traveling hours remembering. And when they arrived at the station, he could only think of meeting Lily to say that he thought he was in love. Was this possible?

"Mate?" Sirius asked, following him out of the wagon. '’Did something happen at the meeting?'’

"No, I-" James saw her, which automatically made him forget all the words his parents had taught him, suddenly his brain shutting down and only caring about one thing; Lily Evans.

James didn't know what to do, if he was going to talk to her or not, if he waved, if he called her, if he shouted for everyone to hear that she kissed him… James wanted there to be a manual on how to deal with this situation, because he felt so lost and it was stupid.

There was no time to do anything however, the students were hurrying to leave and pushed James who had been standing in the middle of the corridor, while Lily blushed and smiled awkwardly, giving the boys a wave and then getting off the train.

Should that mean something? Why didn't she talk to him?!

''Come on James, I want to go home.'' Peter complained, making him wake up from his reverie and follow them outside, knowing Sirius was watching him with the eyes of an eagle, and that probably Remus too, but very more discreet.

After they said their goodbyes and headed off to find his parents, Sirius whispered, never bending over or making it sound like he was whispering, "You kissed her, didn't you?"

"She did it." James swallowed, still completely shocked. "Best kiss of my life, I must say."

"Fuck, James." Sirius shook his head, walking faster and accepting Euphemia's hug as James greeted his dad with a longing hug.

"Are you two okay?" Monti asked, a hand in James' hair and an all-too-knowing look that made him think his dad had heard, by some miracle, what Sirius had said. Fleamont always seemed to know everything.

"Yes, perfect." Sirius smiled. ‘’Right, James?’’

‘’Yes, more perfect than this impossible.’’

[...]

That night, after Euphemia left for the annual florist dinner she always went to, Fleamont called James and Sirius down to the dungeons, where he had finished brewing another beer. James knew his dad wasn't an idiot and he knew the two of them had already been drinking in hiding there on several occasions, but he liked that they were now considered old enough to be able to go there without having to dodge.

"So, how were things at school this year?" his dad asked, pouring some beer into each of their glasses, sitting on the wooden bench he and Sirius had helped to assemble last summer. "Any news?" Fleamont lingered at James, but then smiled at Sirius and glared at him too.

"Yeah, I think I'm liking someone," Sirius said, and then looked at the glass of beer in front of him on the pine table.

''You think? How can this be? Either you are, or you aren't.” Fleamont didn't seem to judge him, that gentle smile that had James spilling so much of his secrets over the past few years to his dad for help.

"She's a little complicated," Sirius ran a hand through his hair, taking a sip of his beer. ‘’ She says she doesn't want anything, but then she gets mad when I talk to another girl? I don't know, I like her, I just don't know how… you know?’’

"No." James didn't know how Sirius still hadn't learned to never do that to his dad. Fleamont would never say what he thought you meant, even if he was sure what it was, he would always make you talk.

‘’How to tell her.’’ It was funny and almost frightening how Sirius looked like someone else when he arrived at his house. There he didn't have to pretend anything or be an asshole to draw attention, his parents were always willing to listen to him, just like they did with James and that's probably why he always seemed very comfortable telling things to Fleamont, like now.

"Well, I think you two are friends at least?" Sirius nodded. ‘’So, be honest with her. What do you have to lose?''

‘’Her friendship? Humiliate me? Do you hate me, Monti?’’

"Sirius, don't talk like that," Fleamont stood up, a little slower than he used to when James was younger, but still quick for a man of nearly sixty. "When I told Mia I liked her," He floated a pot of potato chips off the top of one of the cupboards, like he did after James had behaved himself and helped him clean the yard. ‘’I felt like I might pass out at any moment, I was in a cold sweat… We were in front of her house, at night, after I took her on a date,’’

''I hope you were respectful Monti, I don't want to be disappointed in you when I found out you took her to a dodgy bar.'' Sirius joked, making James laugh along with him, knowing he'd just done it to make himself feel less nervous.

Sirius did this whenever someone was paying attention to him and actually treating him as an equal, James had noticed this over the years.

"Of course not, we went to a fair near her house," Fleamont sat back down, putting a portion of the potatoes into a smaller pot. ''Anyway, at the end of the night, I knew I needed to tell her that I loved her, which today I think was a silly thing, because I didn't even know what love was yet,'' He shrugged, a smile on his face. "I was young and Mia was, and still is, the most beautiful woman I've ever met, I felt I couldn't let her go without knowing it."

"She said she liked you too?" James asked, and for the first time he was interested in that story. His dad looked at him with that look that said he knew exactly why James was paying attention, but he didn't say anything.

"No, and it made me very angry and humiliated." He glanced at Sirius, who raised his eyebrows as if proving a point. ''But I wasn't fair to her, Mia was just being truthful, but I was too young to understand that sometimes things just don't happen at the right time... A few weeks later, I met her at a family dinner and we talked, and she said she didn't love me, but she liked me.'' He shrugged. "I think she loves me these days, I mean we're married and we have a family." Sirius chuckled.

"How did you know she was the right one?" James asked, looking at his half-finished beer. "I mean, let's assume," Monti nodded, paying attention to what he said as if it were the most interesting thing. ‘’If you had dated other people and so did she, how would you know she was the right person?’’

“Hm… wouldn't know, son.” Fleamont shrugged, pouring himself more beer. ‘’And I didn't know then either. Just happened.''

"I asked Hestia out," Sirius admitted, and not even James knew it, so he turned his head to his friend with an almost incriminating look, but it was gone as soon as he saw the annoyed smile on his lips. ‘’But she didn't want to go, so… I guess she's ashamed of me? I don't know, she's really smart and a good girl, I don't think she wants to be seen with a guy like me.”

“A guy like you?” Fleamont grabbed some chips.

"Monti, no need to pretend you don't know," Sirius rolled his eyes. "I don't have a good family, and you've had to sign a lot of letters because of my detentions."

‘’Hm… yeah, you're right about the detentions, but the family? Sirius, you are not a reflection of your parents' mistakes. Maybe she doesn't want to go out with you right now, and maybe, most likely, you aren't even the problem at all. Who can guarantee us that she… Hestia, right? That Hestia isn't going through a difficult time where she doesn't really know how to deal with this sort of thing, and just needs some time? You're not always the villain in the story, son, actually you never were.'' Sirius looked like he wanted to deny it, James noticed how his brow furrowed, but it eased as Fleamont pushed the pot of chips towards him, a fatherly smile at the lips that seemed to make Sirius' beast fall back to the ground like a trained dog.

James thought of Lily, the things he'd witnessed over the past few months and how she seemed to be dealing with a lot more than that these past few days. He still remembered how sad she looked when she read a letter that had come to her from her mum. James didn't ask what was written, of course, but he tried to make her smile for the rest of the day and during their patrol, hating that her brow was so furrowed.

The war was getting worse, a lot of people were dying, and the mini death eaters were really putting into practice what they had been learning in the last few years. It was frustrating, to say the least, that Dumbledore did nothing to stop sixteen-year-olds from getting their arms marked by Voldemort.

He wished he could help her, not just because now that spark of feeling inside his chest had become a scorch of acres and would leave a huge footprint inside him, but because James really cared about her before anything else.

"Dad, um…" James began, not quite sure how to speak, or what. ‘’Can we install a muggle phone?’’

"Of course," Fleamont smiled, just as he had smiled at Sirius. ‘’And you son, how was school?’’

‘’Well, I… Nothing too important but… it was a good year. There haven't been a lot of detentions this year, so I think it's a win.” He joked, just because it was a little weird talking about it with his dad.

"But he wanted to be dating," Sirius nudged, pouring more beer into his glass.

“Oh, is that that muggle girl?” Fleamont at least looked away, spending more time than necessary picking out some chips to eat. James mentally thanked him.

"No, and Sirius doesn't know what he's talking about." James rolled his eyes, wanting to push him off the stool. ‘’I decided that this year I will dedicate myself to studies.’’

"Oh James, you don't have to lie to your old man so much like that, it's okay, your mum isn't here so come on, tell me, what can I help you with?"

"It's her again, Monti," Sirius reveals, as if he doesn't say much.

James wanted to kill him now.

‘’Evans? Oh, son, are we still in it? When will I meet her? I'm starting to imagine you guys invented her because it's been almost five years since I first heard her name and never saw her.” Sirius and his dad laugh together, watching James blush like a fool. ‘’What happened this time? I thought you had raised a white flag for her… Is it because of her that you want to install the phone?’’

‘’It's just… She has family issues, and I think she's going to be alone this vacation since Marlene has traveled and Hestia too, so… I just thought about trying to call her. She gave me her phone number before classes ended, and I think it might cheer her up, I don't know, we're friends and I don't want to-’’

‘’Mate, you kissed her today, what kind of friendship is this?’’

''I wasn't the one who kissed her, she was the one who came at me, and for Merlin's sake, can't you shut up?!'' Fleamont doesn't intervene in the boys' discussion, seeming to enjoy it, and James almost took back everything he said and ran to his room to hide under the covers, but his dad seemed to notice this and became serious again.

"James," he said, in a warning tone but still with the shadow of a smile on his face. "It's kind of you to worry about her like that, anyway, but I think Sirius is right, I don't believe there are friendships where people kiss."

‘'She didn't even talk to me about it later, she just… ran away, leaving me alone. I don't think she even wanted to do that or I’m a bad kisser.'’

‘’It is a possibility, for sure,’’

"Even more if we think you ate that plum candy before the meeting, which smells disgusting." Sirius grimaced.

"But, you even said, she's having problems at home, and like I told Sirius, it's not all about you. She probably doesn't know what to do or say either, and is afraid of ruining the friendship… The best thing to do is ask her what it means, but knowing that maybe the answer will hurt you. It's a risk you take.” James nodded, looking at the beer kegs near the wall, and then down to his own glass again. "We'll install the phone and you'll call her, maybe that doesn't encourage Sirius to be less fearful and send Hestia a letter." Fleamont smiled. "There's nothing to lose, for either of you, just tell them how you feel."

''Haha! He would die before he did that, you know what he did last month?’’ James grinned vengefully, dodging Sirius' hand that tried to cover his mouth as his dad laughed at them both.

[...]

''OK.''

"Potter, just do it."

"Padfoot, what if she curses me-"

''She is not going.''

‘’ But she can. ’’

‘’Call her for fucking sake!’’

"Quiet or my mum will listen, and she doesn't need to know we can swear." James took a deep breath, the crumpled paper in his hands trembling as he noted the number written there, then looked at the buttons on the phone.

The man who came to install it had explained to them how it worked, but James was so nervous he'd forgotten all about it.

"Just dial!" Sirius cried for the umpteenth time, sitting beside him in the armchair, a Muggle magazine in his hands.

"Mum will kill you if she sees this." James pointed at the five women in bikinis, in very indecent positions for a rock magazine.

''Shut up Potter, and call her or I'll do it.'’ James huffed, rolling his eyes and looking at the numbers again.

Okay, he could do that.

Yes, just do it, James.

"Hello?" Evans' sweet voice sounded from the other end, it didn't sound much like her, it was a little more harsh and hurt than James used to hear, but it was definitely her. He tried to picture her by the phone, probably wearing a T-shirt from some muggle band he didn't know but would try to learn about just to impress her.

"Hello… Lily?"

“James?” Her voice radiated happiness then, as if she were grinning from ear to ear. His stomach turned over. ''Is that you?''

"Yes, yes it's me." Sirius chuckled softly, patting him on the shoulder and walking out of the room, probably so James would feel more comfortable being a lovesick fool. ''How are you?''

‘’I'm fine, I… how did you call me? Did you buy a phone?

"It was something my dad had wanted for a long time, so it was pretty easy to convince him." James grinned. “I just called to…um…just to say I like you, Evans. I really like it, and maybe you don't feel that way, and I know things aren't easy, but I really care about you, and if you don't… like me, that's fine, I'll understand. But ever since you kissed me I… I keep thinking about you, and I keep thinking about kissing you again, so I called just to tell you that… I like you a lot, Lily.'' James took a deep breath, feeling as if a weight was lifted from his shoulders.

Lily took a while to speak, which made him a little, very, nervous, and James even considered hanging up the phone and never using it again, but he remembered what his dad had said about listening to what she had to say and not rush.

"I…I like you too, James." He could hear her smile, even though her voice was a little quieter now. "I can't stop thinking about you and our kiss, either." His cheeks would tear. ‘’And… would you like to go out with me? For a date?’’

"Evans, I think if you asked me to jump off a bridge right now, I would." She laughed, one of the most beautiful sounds James had ever heard in his life. ''Yes I do.''

‘’Great, I… I need to turn it off now because Petunia is taking a shower and if I take too long the water will be cold and she won't leave me alone anymore, but-’’

"I'll call you later," James said before she even asked. He didn't lie when he said he would do anything for her, and if that meant talking to her on the phone overnight, he would. It was so much better than a letter, it took less time, and there was also the fact that he could hear her voice. It couldn't be better. "See you later, Lily."

"See you, James."

[ratmonky]

Sweet Blossoms

this is a commission, my friend put a gun against my head to write this and I didn’t get to write any of my own ideas so you don’t tell me it sucked cuz i already know it did lol

Word Count: 4.8K

Warnings: unhealthy relationship, cheating, vanilla *bleh*

AO3 Link

There was no way he could know what kind of flowers you liked so he had left you all sorts of kinds.

You crouched down and took the flower bouquet in your arms, looking around to see who had left them but you couldn’t see him when he was that far into the darkness. With the prettiest smile on your lips, you inhaled the sweet fragrances of different flowers all at once. It almost made you dizzy because of how strong each flower's aroma was.

Carefully walking back inside the apartment, you started looking for the note the cheap supermarket flowers usually came with. While you were handling the flowers, the note slipped and fell onto the floor, right where your boyfriend was standing.

“This again?” he sighed, taking the note. He opened the note shamelessly, reading it out loud. “(name), as pretty as these flowers are, they are nothing compared to your beauty. I hope you’re staying healthy and safe.” He flipped the note to see if there was more to it but when he realized there wasn’t, he tore it apart. “Sounds like a creep.”

“Don’t say that.” You frowned, watching the note get destroyed. “They are harmless.”

“No sane man would leave flowers for some college girl living with her boyfriend. He’s probably still out there rubbing one off.” He leaned to the wall. “I would,” he added with a smirk.

“Stop being vulgar.”

“You say that while wearing things like that. You look for attention as if I’m not giving ya enough.” His words made you look down at your outfit. It was just a sundress.

“You’re overreacting,” your voice was fainter than a whisper.

“Don’t play the victim now. If it weren’t for me, you’d be sucking someone off for money to afford to live in a smaller apartment than this. Maybe you’d join those hookers in the kabuki district if I stopped giving you attention, huh?”

Legs shaking, you pressed the bouquet of flowers to your chest. There wasn’t anything you could or wanted to say to him. He was being mean but he was right. Maybe you had to stop dressing up like this. If it weren’t for him you wouldn’t be able to afford your major or rent. Your boyfriend was paying for the rent while you continued studying and worked to save money to pay off your student loan.

“Never forget that you wouldn’t be shit without me.”

You rapidly nodded, avoiding making him any more upset.

“Good,” he sighed and put his hands on his hips. “Now, go wipe your face, you look like a clown.”

Your hand went to your cheek to feel your makeup over your skin. It was still smooth, not cakey at all but from the way he said it, perhaps it looked worse than you thought.

“Okay.”

Walking past him, you slipped the small piece of paper in your dress’s pocket without him noticing. You put the flowers in a vase before placing them next to the old ones. This wasn’t the first time you had received flowers from your secret admirer and you hoped it wouldn’t be the last time.

Back in your room, hastily you took out the small paper and grinned when a movie ticket greeted you.

~~~

There hadn’t been a time in your life where you put this much effort into how you were going to look like to go out.

Your boyfriend often didn’t like it when you dressed up or put on makeup, he usually made comments on how you looked that made you feel bad about your appearance. Although you knew he loved you, it hurt your confidence. His words affected you in ways you couldn’t describe.

It was one of the reasons why you were conscious of your appearance right now and why you kept tugging your skirt down, worried that you might be showing too much skin. You wouldn’t put your small compact mirror down either, you kept checking on your makeup.

Everyone was looking at you. Thinking that you’re a slut.

At least that was what your mind was telling you. No, that was something your boyfriend would say.

While trying to ignore your own thoughts, you walked up to the employee behind the counter and showed them your ticket to enter the movie theatre. They told you your ticket’s arranged seat number and you saw from the computer screen that the seat beside yours was occupied.

You took a deep breath to calm your senses. The only reason you were here was because of how curious you were, nothing else. You had been getting flowers every Friday for longer than a year now and not knowing the identity of your secret admirer was eating you up.

I’m only gonna take a peek, you promised yourself and walked inside the theatre. If it turned out to be a creep like your boyfriend kept telling you about, then you could just walk away. This was a public space so there was no need to feel anxious about what could happen.

It took you a long moment to find your seat at the furthest back row and get comfortable on the soft cushions. The place wasn’t empty but it wasn’t full of people either, yet the row you had your seat on was completely free.

Each passing minute was unbearable even when you were trying to busy your mind with your phone but nevertheless failed to notice it when someone took a seat next to you.

By the time you looked up, there was a familiar face sitting next to you.

“Junpei!” you gasped, he always managed to sneak up on people since his presence went unnoticed.

He couldn’t meet your gaze, “Hi, it’s been a while huh?”

“Yeahh,” you went on to say before looking around, the trailers were about to start since the lights dimmed, your secret admirer was nowhere to be seen. “Umm, you see, I’m glad to see you here but I’m waiting for someone, this seat is taken.”

His adam’s apple moved as he gulped, there was a sweat droplet that drizzled down from his cheek to his neck.

Your eyes then landed on his lap. He was holding a single rose in his hand, the flower shook in his grasp.

“Oh.” It dawned on you. “Okay.”

Junpei held the flower out for you to take but still averted his gaze from yours. Slowly, you took the rose from him and lifted it up to your nose, inhaling the sweet aroma.

“You can leave,” he whispered, trying not to break the unwritten rule of a movie theater. “I won’t judge.”

He had noticed how disappointed you looked when you found out it was him who had been leaving you those flowers, he wasn’t the aggressive type to force you to sit down with him like this. Entrapping you and making you feel uncomfortable was the last thing he wanted to do.

“Why?” you whispered back.

“You looked disappointed.”

You snorted, “I was surprised to find out my next-door neighbor and dropout classmate was my secret admirer.”

Someone shushed.

Trying to stifle your giggling, you continued. “You could’ve just asked me out normally.”

His cheeks flushed deep red and he finally met your eyes. “You have a boyfriend.”

You got quiet, “Yeah.”

I have a boyfriend. I have a boyfriend but I came here to meet my secret admirer. Why?

Perhaps it was because you wanted to feel validated. The poems you got with the flowers, at least the ones you managed to hide were special to you. Whenever you doubted yourself, rereading the poems gave you the confidence you lacked.

The movie started.

Junpei was fidgeting with his fingers, no matter how much he tried he couldn’t focus on the movie. He had been wanting to see this one since it came out, the hype around the release of this movie and the reviews he had read made him more excited than ever, yet… Since you were here, his thoughts were full of you.

From the corner of his eye, he could see that you were staring at the silver screen but your expression was blank as if you weren’t paying any attention either.

He opened his mouth to say something but a scream coming from the female lead interrupted him. His attention involuntarily directed itself to the screen and soon, he sort of got invested in the storyline as you were having an internal debate with yourself.

There was an exciting scene that had him gripping to the sides of his seat, he was about to comment on the scene when he turned to face you but you were already looking at him, blushing.

Junpei didn’t understand the reason why you were blushing until he looked down. In the heat of the moment, he had placed his hand on top of yours on the seat’s cup holder.

A blush matching yours spread on his face and neck, he apologized before proceeding to lift his hand but you prevented him from pulling away by holding his hand.

Then, you intertwined your fingers together with his while scooting closer to the edge of your seat to close the distance between the two of you.

In that quiet moment of your hand tightly holding his own, Junpei started nodding as if he understood something and returned his attention to the screen.

He couldn’t focus on the rest of the movie, rather he focused on how warm your hand was or how sweaty his palm was.

Your head softly leaned on his tense shoulder. A wave of panic made Junpei’s eye look at you if you had died because -why else would you put your head on his shoulder? Yet, you were very much alive and you were still holding his hand tightly. He didn’t dare to move, not sure what exactly to do either.

Whether it be the most rational thing that came up to his mind or his own curiosity on how it felt, he tilted his head until his cheek pressed against your hair. Your warmth was enough to warm his heart, it gave him the comfort he had thought he would never get. The delicious smell of your shampoo invaded his nostrils almost instantly, a genuine smile spread on his face as you continued leaning on him.

“Why did you leave those flowers?”

The question was sudden.

“Because I… I have feelings for you.” His voice was quieter than a whisper out of consideration to not interrupt other people’s enjoyment of the movie.

“Why?”

“Why?” he echoed, thinking what to answer. There were too many reasons why. He couldn’t come up with just one. “Because you’re you.”

“What does that mean?” You lifted your head up to look at him.

“Well, it means that I like…” Geez, it was hard to say it out loud when you were looking. His cheeks were burning up and his eye was looking at everything but yours. “You’re beautiful and considerate. You care about others and you’re selfless. I guess I like you because you were kind to me back in high school.” The memory brought a smile to his complexion, you two were in the same film appreciation club in the past and were close friends if not best friends. “You’re not scared to be yourself. You always know what you want in life. I always wanted to be like you or rather be with you, kinda like adornment with a dash of being in love with you... I guess.”

Was he really describing you or some idea he had about you?

There was no way of knowing. You didn’t know who you were anymore. Not after you started dating your boyfriend.

If you had asked your boyfriend to describe you, what would he say?

Nevermind, you didn’t want to know.

“Hey,” Junpei called in a panicked voice, someone in the audience shushed again. “Are you alright? Did I say something wrong?”

You shook your head, tightening your hand around his while your eyes sparkled with gratitude. It made you look so kissable, your lips being parted slightly only made the thought a lot more irresistible.

Junpei’s face leaned closer to yours, he was moving hesitantly and slowly, waiting for your reaction. Instead of moving away, you were just staring at him but he felt like he was forcing you again.

Wanting you to make the decision, he stopped himself and closed his eyes, brows furrowing as his anxiety was eating him up. His heart hammered through his chest and he waited and waited and waited until something soft pressed on his lips.

He peeked with one eye to look at your face, the view made his heart skip a beat. Your eyes were closed, eyelashes fluttering as your glossy lips moved against his own. Having not much experience, he followed your lead, parting his lips and mirroring the way you moved yours, ignoring how wildly his body shook from excitement.

You tasted as sweet as you looked, your perfume filled his lungs and made his head spin. He was being conscious about a lot of things as your hand that was holding him moved to his shoulder and then to his neck to card your fingers through the short strands.

He could feel your warmth through your lips better than when he held your hand. He experimentally snaked his tongue inside your mouth to get a better glimpse of how you actually tasted.

Almost immediately, you opened your mouth to allow him entrance, letting his tongue hesitantly move along with yours. Teeth clashed once or twice but it did nothing other than making you giggle into the kiss.

His hand went to your cheek to caress it and pull your face closer until he could get a better angle to kiss you. There was something so endearing about the way he touched you, his touch was gentle, loving even. Something you hadn’t felt in a long time.

Once he pulled himself back, the small wet strands connecting your lips together thinned and broke apart.

Junpei was completely red and you knew you weren’t any different. His lips were swollen and pink, eyes full of admiration as he was looking at you. He was cherishing this moment.

The lights turned on, ruining the mood.

Both of you flinched and jumped back on your seats, unaware how you were practically on his lap before. It was kind of comedic, nobody would have cared if they saw two people being lovey-dovey in the back row of a theatre since it was something common yet both of you were acting like two young lovers who had been busted by their parents.

The awkwardness went away only after you exited the theater, holding Junpei’s hand.

“Your dress is really pretty,” he said to break the silence as you were walking down the street.

“Thanks, it has pockets,” you chirped, putting your free hand inside the small pocket to show it to him. “This is my favorite dress!”

“Cute,” he chuckled. His cheeks were still faintly blushed red but not as visible as before. Although his mind was clouded by many things and what was going to happen next, he didn’t dare to say anything that could ruin your smile. Not only because you looked gorgeous with a smile on your face but also because he knew you needed it.

“Junpei.”

“Hmm?”

“Wanna stop by somewhere?”

“Like for dinner? Sure, although I’m not hungry, I can watch you eat.”

“No,” you uttered, pointing towards somewhere.

Junpei’s eye followed where you were pointing your finger and his mouth gaped, cheeks flushing bright red instantaneously. He looked at you to see that you were blushing as well.

“It’s okay if you don’t wanna.” You were regretting making the suggestion.

“No, I wanna, definitely, yes, go.” He had to take a deep breath to calm himself before saying something that made sense. “You asked too suddenly.”

Nonetheless, you were the embarrassed one. He had to swallow down his own embarrassment to sheepishly drag you across the street and into the red light district. The hotel you had been pointing at had a large neon sign that read some nonsense like ‘secret getaway’ on it. You wondered if it was the absurdity of the sign or the situation which made you point at this specific hotel.

In front of the entrance, he hesitated walking inside.

“I can pay,” you said, mistaking the reason why he was hesitating.

“You don’t need to, I was just… thinking.” He was blushing again, how was he going to say this. He didn’t dare to say it out loud. Ugh, he had to. “I-I d-don’t have a condom with me.”

“I think they might sell some inside,” you hummed before getting on your tiptoes to whisper, “You don’t need one anyway.”

This time, his blood rushed south.

Your eyes landed on the not-so-small problem and softly giggled. “I guess I have to check us in, huh?”

“Please…” He used a hand to cover his face in embarrassment. “Don’t tease me about this.”

“I’ll try not to,” you said, pulling him inside the hotel, he quickly pulled his shirt down to cover the front of his pants. The reception was quiet, you chose a room that was the cheapest and got your room key from the receptionist.

Junpei let go of your hand to dive it in his pocket to fish out his wallet to pay for the room but you stopped him. He looked at you in question and you shook your head, retaking his hand. “We’ll pay when we’re leaving since we’re paying by the hour.”

He hadn’t realized how uninformed he was about this sort of stuff until today. He nodded slowly and let you lead him to the elevator and then to your room.

The awkward atmosphere was back as soon as you stepped inside the room. You finally let go of his hand to take off your shoes. While you placed your own neatly by the entrance hall, Junpei had just kicked off his shoes, leaving them as they were.

You walked further inside the room after fixing his shoes and placing them next to yours.

Junpei was busy checking the minibar as you sat on the bed, taking out your phone from your purse to check the time. It was close to evening time, your boyfriend would be back home soon. Shaking your head, you put your phone away and focused your stare on Junpei’s back. “Thank you.”

“For w-what?” His shoulders tensed at your words, it made you smile.

“For the flowers and the notes you left by my door.” You laid down on your back to feel how soft the sheets were. “Receiving them made me excited and feel validated.”

“I-it was nothing.” He walked over to the bed, it was too late to drink anything from the minibar, on top of that, the prices were way too expensive. “I always thought you found them stalkerish.”

The bed sank and creaked as he sat next to you.

“My boyfriend did.” Ah, right. Saying it out loud made you realize how silly the situation was. You were in a love hotel with someone who sent you flowers despite having a boyfriend.

“Yeah.” He didn’t know what to say, the mood had changed again.

Thankfully, you knew what to say.

“Have you ever jerked off to me?”

Caught off guard, Junpei squealed but then forced himself to laugh to avoid answering the question.

“Hmm?” You lifted your head from the bed to look at him, determined to get an answer to your question.

“I can’t answer that…” His voice died off lamely, maybe he shouldn’t have said anything.

“It’s just a question,” you replied, encouraging him to tell you the truth.

He mumbled.

“What?” You smirked, “I couldn’t hear you.”

“I said maybe!” He covered his face with his hands. Another involuntary blush colored his cheeks and neck. The sound of the fabric rustling as you perhaps leaned closer to him filled the room, but all he could hear was his heartbeat in his ears. It seemed like an eternity until you said something.

“How?” you asked, almost sheepishly.

His eye opened widely. Was he hearing things? “What?”

“How did you do it?” His eye met yours again, then turned down briefly to his lap before returning his attention toward you.

He was frozen. He slowly processed your words, pausing for a moment. Had you really asked him that? Did he imagine that? Junpei stayed in his position for a while. He didn't dare to move.

You put a hand on his knee, sending a shiver down his spine as your hand moved up to his thigh.

“(name),” he breathed, the anticipation of what was to come made his cock twitch in his pants.

“Junpei,” you echoed, grabbing his thigh and letting your fingers brush against the growing bulge. “Tell me, how did you?”

He was biting his lip as your hands fiddled with his pants, pulling the zipper down and humming.

It all felt like a dream, something he would have fantasized about when he had his hand wrapped around his cock late at night. Not something that would actually happen in a million years. Yet, it was happening right now at this moment.

“I imagined you touching me,” he revealed when you cupped his bulge.

“How?”

“Naked and-” You tugged at the front of his pants, he lifted his hips and pulled them down.

“And?” Your fingers hooked under the waistband of his boxers, smiling mischievously.

“Under me,” he gasped as you pulled his underwear down to free his half-hard cock.

“Under you?” Wrapping a hand around the base of his cock, you lowered your mouth towards his cock, lolling out your tongue, you let your drool drizzle down on him. Slowly, you moved your hand from the base to the tip, spreading your drool to use it as lubrication.

“Y-yeah.” His hands gripped the sheets tightly. His cock was fully hard and was throbbing in your hand. “Under me.”

Your hand pumped his cock for the first time, it made a faint click sound. “Tell me more.” Using your thumb, you gently pulled back the thin layer of skin to expose the tip of his cock that was glistening with precum. With your forefinger, you tapped on the liquid and moved your finger away to see how far it would stretch. “Or better, why don’t you demonstrate it for me?”

Something snapped inside him.

Junpei grabbed you by your hair and pulled you up before locking your lips together in less than a second. His hand continued pulling you closer to himself while his tongue slipped out to explore your mouth once again. You sucked on his tongue and stroked his cock while grabbing a chunk of his hair in your other hand. You pulled his hair and opened your mouth widely to take the lead and this time you wanted to savor his taste.

Junpei’s free hand went to your ass, groping it and squeezing it as tightly as he could to get you to moan into the kiss and when you did, he lifted your leg to take you under him. Now, he was able to press himself on you.

You turned your face away for Junpei to kiss your neck, so you could jerk him off faster. He pecked on your neck and licked the sensitive skin until he reached your collarbone to nibble on your skin. Desperate to leave a mark of possession.

“Junpei,” you chanted, wanting to warn him about not leaving a mark. “Don’t-”

His teeth sank into your skin, hard enough to draw blood and your body squirmed in pleasure under him. An intense moan left your lips and you retrieved your hand from his cock to instead push his hair back.

Exposing his forehead, made him pull himself back from you. None of you dared to say anything as you gazed at each other. Your eyes were on his scars, albeit you were shocked, you managed to not show it on your face and instead pulled him closer to press a gentle kiss on his scars.

Your hands slid down to his cheeks and you squished them together, before pulling them back to take off your panties. You didn’t even get to take them off properly as Junpei balanced himself on a balled-up fist and hiked the skirt of your dress up. Although you wanted to offer him to take off your dress and panties, he was already positioning himself between your legs.

He stood still for a moment to look at you under him. Legs spread, hair and dress a mess while panties stuck on one ankle. He had never imagined he would see you like this when he left his house today. If he did, he would have been a lot more prepared.

Like bringing a condom.

“Is it really okay?” he asked.

You nodded, not really understanding what he was asking.

Without wasting another precious second, Junpei tapped his cock on your clit, dragging the tip back and forth between your folds before pushing the tip in. He pushed in deeper, letting out a groan in the process when your gummy walls squeezed around him.

You gasped softly, legs wrapping around his hips.

He took a moment to get himself together, it felt like he was going to cum if he moved. This was nothing like what he had imagined.

Whimpering, you moved your hips to tell him to move.

Junpei nodded, unable to let a single syllable out because of the way you clenched around him. He took a deep breath before tentatively pulling his hips back and slamming into you.

Your lips opened in a silent moan and he leaned down to press his lips onto yours as his hips started moving. His pace was irregular, the snap of his hips was brutal but his cock stroked all the good spots.

Arms wrapping around his neck, you held onto him for dear life when his cock began hammering into you. The girth of his cock was stretching you to your limit but the length was worse, with each snap of his hips, you felt the tip kiss your cervix.

The kiss turned sloppy soon enough, both of you were covered in each other's drool from moving your lips clumsily and thanks to the impact of Junpei humping your cunt like a rabid dog in heat.

His hands went to fondle your tits, he pulled the front of your dress down and dove his hands inside your bra to pinch your nipples, he was excitedly breathing into your mouth.

Both of you were close, he knew because you were a moaning mess, moving your hips desperately to meet his thrusts and his cock was twitching inside you because of how you wanted him like he wanted you.

“I’m- I’m gonna-” He couldn’t even finish his sentence.

When you felt his cock throbbing inside you, your legs wrapped around him tighter preventing him from pulling out. Once it occurred to him that you weren’t letting him go, he surged his forward as far as he could to bury his cock deep in your pussy. The tip of his cock pressed against your cervix and your gummy walls clenched around him.

Junpei’s eye rolled up while he spilled his seed inside your womb and in your pussy, filling you up to the brim. He pulled out to watch his seed oozing out from your gaping hole, he used his thumb to spread your folds wider and smiled in awe.

A moan left your lips, legs shaking in the pleasure of your tummy being full of his cum.

Junpei crawled next to you and put his head on your chest, his hand playing with your breast over your bra as the two of you caught your breaths.

There was a soft silence while you petted his hair and watched the ceiling.

You didn’t know what time it was but it had been long enough.

It was time to go home.

When you arrived at your apartment building, you retrieved your hand that was holding Junpei’s reluctantly. The smile Junpei wished you didn’t lose on your face was gone, instead, there was a broken smile.

He opened the building door for you and pressed the elevator call button. You were clutching on your purse, looking everywhere but his way. Maybe you were thinking that you made a mistake, Junpei knew he couldn’t compete with your boyfriend after all.

The elevator doors opened. The two of you got in. He pressed your floor. After an agonizingly long pause, the doors closed with a soft bell chime.

Having previously made your decision, you grabbed Junpei by his collar and pulled him down to kiss him greedily. Dumbfounded, he kissed you back. Although he wanted to use his hands to caress your body, the elevator’s bell chimed again, alerting that the doors were opening.

You pecked on his lips before letting go of his collar, brightly beaming at him.

His lips curled up into a smile matching yours.

Together, you walked past his apartment and to your place while holding hands, thankfully moving your stuff to the next door was easy.

[writershapeholeonthedoor]

You Marked More Than Just My Skin - Supercorp

Read it on AO3

Kara’s first instinct was to blame Alex because, if she was going to be honest, Alex was the one to blame for many of her stupid decisions. Sisters' competitive nature or something like that. That's what their mother would say when they were teenagers and they randomly started a fight. A just adopted Kara who had just lost her parents was not letting an overly cocky Alex win without fighting back.

So, naturally, she was going to blame Alex for this. However, Alex had nothing to do with Kara walking down the street from her job one day and entering the tattoo shop she walked past by every day on her way home. No, it had started with Winn, her best friend, saying that Kara wasn’t the type of person to do things out of impulse. Which he wasn’t exactly wrong, although he hit a sore spot because "I can be very spontaneous!" had been Kara’s answer and everyone around them gave her that look that made it pretty clear no one believed her.

Then, just about a week after that, Nia was walking home with her after a stop at Noonan's for their killer milkshake and saw the tattoo shop still open even if it was past 10 pm. There was no one inside that they could see, but the sign read "open" in neon letters and Nia did a double-take when she saw the walls covered in drawings.

"Oh, my God! Look at that thing!" she had screamed. And that thing was a fairly beautiful drawing of a girl lying in bed with a cloud above her head as though she was dreaming about a myriad of things.

Nia grabbed her arm, dragged her inside and, ten minutes later, she was sitting on a chair while a young man that couldn't be older than Kara permanently marked the skin on her forearm with the same drawing.

"Did you draw it?" Nia asked and Kara could tell she was just a little bit in pain because she was clutching the arm of the chair and hadn’t stopped babbling for two seconds. Not that Nia ever stopped talking, actually.

"No," the man replied in an excited voice. Like he was happy to be doing a tattoo on a girl that had just ten minutes prior decided she wanted one. But Kara held back her tongue, took some pictures while Nia made her goofy faces and sat on a stool at the corner like the good friend she was. "My boss did. She does most of the drawings we have available."

"Well, she has a hell of a talent!" Nia exclaimed, bit her lip when the needle hit a soft spot and flashed another smile once it was gone. "You should tell her she's amazing!"

Jack, that was his name, Kara reminded herself, laughed like that was a big joke that only he was aware of, but nodded all the same. "She's in the office right now, maybe she will stop by to hear you say that. She loves when people pick her drawings, but she will never say it out loud."

The woman, whoever she was, didn’t leave her office, not even when they left, way past midnight, listening to Jack's careful instructions on how to take care of Nia's arm for the next week. In the end, Kara had to admit Jack was a nice guy. And he did an excellent job. Nia's tattoo was perfect. Perfect for her and perfectly done, and her friend had no problem showing it off the next day.

"Holy crap!" Winn screamed when he saw it on game night on Friday. "I didn't know you were into tattoos. It looks awesome!"

"Thank you! And I just decided to do it," Nia shrugged, as though deciding to do a tattoo on a Wednesday night at 10 pm after getting a milkshake was a normal thing. "Thank Goddess Kara was with me so she could keep me company."

"Wait," Winn eyed Kara with the same incredulous expression from a week before and she immediately felt defensive. "Kara was there and didn't try to stop you?"

"She did say I might regret it," Nia conceded with a smile. "About ten times, but she stayed with me."

Kara rolled her eyes, picked up the pizza box and sulked on the couch while her friends made fun of her lack of spontaneous nature. Kara was a planner. And she had learned her lesson when she decided to walk to the park instead of going home one day after school and returned to the Danvers' household to find out three police cars parked at the street and a frantic Eliza giving them a photo of her and saying she had disappeared. So, yes, Kara wasn't one to do things out of the blue anymore, but that was hardly a bad thing.

She tried to tell that to herself for the next week while everyone still awed and cooed at Nia's tattoo. She tried to remind herself of Eliza's panicked face while James, with his impressive looking dragon tattoo on his back, said Kara would never be one to make a tattoo because she would keep changing her mind. She tried to picture Alex's disapproving stare while Nia's boyfriend, Querl, made comments on how he loved Nia's carefree and spontaneous nature.

In the end, what pushed her to do it was her boss and Kara couldn’t even blame her, or Alex, or any of her friends. But she would, anyway.

"Kiera, the reason why people hardly remember your name-" she wanted to point out that Cat was the only one who had a hard time remembering her name but bit her tongue instead "-is because you are so... blank."

"Blank?" Kara had asked, trying and failing not to look so offended.

And Cat nodded because she knew how to get to her. "Nothing remarkable. You use terrible sweaters and write articles that everyone could write. Did you ever do something, I don’t know, remotely spontaneous in your life?"

Kara was sure - or almost sure because you can never know with Cat Grant - that her boss was trying to push her to fly to Midvale to write about the scandal surrounding some tech company there even though Snapper had decided William would cover that for CatCo. It was either that or to make her wear something that wasn’t in pastel color.

Well, all it did was send Kara straight to a tattoo shop where she hoped to find Jack and demand he did something as spectacular as Nia's tattoo. And she went on a mission, marching down the ten blocks from CatCo to the tattoo shop - that only that day she stopped to read the name of and what weird name they chose, Le Vintage Ink - her feet hitting the ground with a purpose, her hand pushing the door open with a vengeance, her eyes narrowed behind her glasses with one goal in mind.

It wasn't Jack she saw, however. She didn't see anyone at first, actually. The shop was empty like it was a week before and very silent, with the air conditioner doing a soft hum and nothing else.

The anti climax moment was enough to make all her determination wave off. Her shoulders dropped, her eyes rounded, her feet started to stamp and her determination, well, she didn’t quite remember it anymore. Nobody needed to know, Kara told to herself. Nobody knew she was going to do it, so she could just turn around, leave, go back to her apartment and try to do some online shopping. Maybe buy a red dress for once. None of her friends would ever believe she went back to the tattoo shop, so there would be no problem...

No. That was exactly the problem. They wouldn’t even believe her if she told them. They would laugh, call it a bluff, and keep teasing Kara for not being adventurous like they were. Alex does this long motorbike drives all over the state sometimes, and James goes hiking and jumps from planes from time to time. Winn would point out that the last thing Kara did without meticulous planning was to change pizza night for potstickers and that was only because the pizza place she always orders from was out of pineapples.

However, Kara reasoned with herself, instead of doing a tattoo, she could just go with Alex on her next trip. Maybe she could ask James to teach her how to hike. Querl adopted a cat he found behind his building, so maybe that could be Kara’s unplanned moment too. And what did Winn do so adventurous or spontaneous that he had the right to make fun of Kara? She couldn’t remember.

Yes, any of those things would be more reasonable. She could even do an impromptu visit to her mother. It would count for something. She knew Eliza would be happy and she loved making her mom happy. She could even pick Alex's old helmet so her sister could use it to ride with her girlfriend, Kelly, and Eliza makes a killer chocolate pecan pie too.

Already dreaming with the taste of the pie crust in her mouth Kara turned around. She must have been inside the tattoo shop for less than ten seconds and Jack hadn’t shown up yet, so that was a plus and a sign, even if she wanted to greet him and tell how nice Nia's tattoo looked after a week.

The second her back was turned to the counter, though, she heard a door opening and then a voice filled the silence. "Can I help you?"

That wasn’t Jack's voice. That much she knew. What she didn’t know was that someone could sound so... husky and still be so clear on the words. What she also didn’t know was why her body froze like she had been hit with lightning. Or why she ever decided to leave when a voice like that was inside the shop.

It would be rude to just keep walking, Kara told herself and even she knew it was a lame excuse for wanting to see the owner of that voice. But she still turned around, eyes blinking fast as she tried not to miss a second of what she was about to see, and then immediately felt her soul leave her body. That was the only explanation on why her mouth fell open and why her brain's function slowed down at least 30%.

Because the voice's owner was... for the lack of a better word, striking. It was a woman, looking a few years younger than Kara, with dark as coal wavy hair falling down her shoulders, green piercing eyes framed by some heavy eyeliner and plump lips painted with red lipstick. The woman was wearing a black t-shirt from a band Kara had never heard of, the v-cut being deep enough that she could see a black bra under it. The shirt looked like she had been cut at home - maybe she wasn't designed to have such a deep v-neck, maybe she had sleeves at some point and maybe the deep cuts by each side also weren't a part of the initial product. But, damn, it looked great on her. Since she had no sleeves and the shirt moved as she walked and showed a great expanse of her sides, Kara could see that the woman’s body was covered in tattoos.

Her arms, from shoulder to wrist, were almost totally covered. Her left arm almost looked like a flower shop, with dozens of flowers in different colors drawn all over it. Her right arm had tattoos from her shoulder to her elbow, and they were a mix of chemical elements and computer parts that, somehow, worked together in all black and white. Kara got just a few glimpses of the tattoos on her side - something that looked like a cartoon character, another one that assembled a lake, a few words that Kara couldn’t read from that far - but that was enough to make her lick her lips and try to picture what else was there. There were no tattoos on her chest area, that Kara could see, but there was a small musical chord on the left side of her neck, and Kara wondered if she had any tattoos on her legs. She couldn't see them from where the woman was standing behind the counter, and something dragged her feet forward before she could stop herself.

"H-hi," she choked out and her face immediately heated up with embarrassment. Her sister would call it 'gay panic' and make fun of her for three days, and Kara was suddenly very thankful for being alone. "I, uh..." The woman blinked, Kara mimicked her, and lost every coherent thought inside her head. "Jack."

The woman arched one perfect eyebrow, resting her hands flat against the counter, and Kara’s blue eyes were suddenly very interested in the long fingers spread over some papers. The papers, she noticed as a second thought, were unfinished drawings, but she could hardly tell what they were. Feeling her face get even hotter, Kara demanded that her eyes moved up and she was almost proud of herself when they paused for only a second at the woman’s cleavage. Of course, as soon as her eyes met the woman’s face again, she had a tiny smirk like she knew Kara was having a hard time being in the same space as her.

"I'm sorry, love," she said and Kara noticed an accent behind the last word, like she had spent years trying to get rid of it but still couldn't brush it off some words. "Jack doesn't work here on Tuesdays."

Oh. Well, that's a bit of a relief, Kara wasn't going to lie. No Jack, no tattoo, and she still could say she tried. She still wanted to say ‘hi’ but...

"Can I help you instead?"

Oh, boy. Kara almost turned around and ran away right then and there because the things she was thinking this stranger could help her with were kind of mortifying. Instead, Kara bit her bottom lip so hard that it went numb instantly, and leaned forward until she was resting her hands in front of the woman's fingers. She dared to glance down really quick, just to find out the woman was wearing black jeans and boots, before she looked up again - with a quick stop at the cleavage because good lord.

"I don't know, I..." Kara couldn’t even say her own name if the woman asked at that moment, let alone remember what she was doing there and where there even was.

The woman chuckled then. A deep, husky sound from the back of her throat that brought a small smile to her lips, and then she ducked her head - as though she had no idea that was the most blinding smile Kara had ever seen in her twenty-six years of living. Neither the chuckle nor the smile was mockingly, and her green eyes were just a little bit amused when she looked back at Kara.

"Don't get me wrong but... you don't look like the type of person that would get a tattoo."

Okay, what is it with people just assuming Kara is too boring to do something? Kara took a look at her own clothes. She wasn't even wearing a sweater that day! Sure, beige trousers and a blue button up hardly screamed "living on the edge" but come on! Was it the glasses? Alex always said she should use contact lenses, but she liked the glassed!

Feeling a new wave of determination, Kara set up her jaw and crossed her arms. "Well, that's exactly what I came here to do."

The woman raised both eyebrows now, clearly amused. "To get a tattoo?" She asked like there was any other reason for Kara to be inside a tattoo shop on a Tuesday night.

So Kara nodded, her blonde hair wiggling from side to side on her ponytail, and straightened up her back like she was about to enter a fight. Not that she ever fought before, not even when the cruel kids at her new school would call her weird and push her inside her locker. Alex would beat them up for her, so she didn’t have to, it was fine.

"Yes," she said and her voice only trembled for a second. "To get a tattoo," she confirmed like there was any other reason for her to be inside a tattoo shop on a Tuesday night.

"Okay," the woman said, clicking her tongue once before she picked up a pen from the desk, a smirk permanently spread on her lips. "Do you have any idea of what you want?"

Shit. Kara hadn’t gone that far. Maybe not even her own brain thought she would do it because she had neglected the most important part of the entire process. She had no idea what she wanted permanently marked on her skin.

(Permanently marked also sent a thousand of red lights inside her head because, you know, it was permanent)

It must have shown on her face because the woman’s smirk became more of a smile, not exactly gentle but not mockery either. "What's your name?"

"Kara." She was so glad her brain hadn’t come up with something ridiculous to say. She could remember when she met her cousin's sister-in-law and answered the same question with "mashed potatoes" for some reason she would never be able to grasp. Lucy never let her forget that embarassing moment.

"Well, Kara," and Holy Goddess of all the universe and beyond, how could her name roll out of her lips like that? "why don’t you take a look at the drawings we have here, see if you like one. If you don't, we can always come up with something for you."

She then pushed some heavy black portfolio across the counter towards Kara and opened the leather front cover to show her the first drawing. They were all separated by plastic, and she started the task of turning the pages while trying very hard to look at the drawings and not at the woman in front of her. She wasn't sure because she wouldn’t dare to look up, but she could feel green eyes staring at her and her blush returned full force.

"So..." she heard after a couple of minutes in silence. "What kind of dare you lost?"

Kara took full offense on that, glaring at her for a moment before going back to the portfolio. She had gotten on the dragon section and decided to skip it all together. "There was no dare."

The woman hummed, watched her for another minute, and then leaned over with her forearms touching the counter. She reached out, taking the plastic from Kara's fingers, and started skipping the pages until they reached the flowers. Kara looked up, catching a glimpse of the woman's arm, before meeting green eyes with a light glare.

The woman shrugged. "You look like a flower kind of girl."

"What else do I look like to you?" Kara mumbled back and stubbornly went back to the drawing she was seeing before - the ships and anchors section - even though she left a finger marking the flowers page.

The brunette seemed even more amused now, barely able to hide her smile, and she chuckled once when Kara turned the page to see another ship. "Like you randomly decided to get a tattoo because someone pissed you off."

Kara tried not to give her the satisfaction of being right, deciding to focus on studying every ship and every anchor. She heard another chuckle, but the woman wisely didn’t push the subject.

"You could save us a lot of time by just going to the flowers."

Fine, maybe she was right about that too. Kara would never pick a ship, or a dragon, or a coffee cup, or any other drawing she saw before. Although Kara never thought what type of drawing she would get tattooed. With a sigh, she went back to the flowers, throwing the woman a dirty look when she huffed a laugh.

"Hey," she said, raising her hands in playful defense, "if I'm going to do something that you will regret tomorrow, at least let me help."

"Aren't you going to try to talk me out of this?" Kara asked, remembering when Jack asked Nia five times if she was sure before touching her skin with the needle.

"No," another shrug. "I will get my money and you will get the regret. Works fine by me."

Kara scoffed and shook her head, but finally spotted something she liked. It was a rose, not larger than a paper ball, black and white with a few leafs to the side. She was almost pointing that one out when she heard a deep sigh and looked up. The brunette was staring down at the drawing with enough judgment that Kara changed her mind in a blink.

"What?" She still asked because it was a beautiful flower.

"Nothing, it's just... does that even mean something to you?"

Kara looked back at the rose and frowned. "I like roses," she defended herself.

"I like kale, but I won’t tattoo that."

"You like kale?" Kara didn’t mean to sound so disgusted by it but it was stronger than her. Her face twisted in a grimace, shocked more than anything.

The other woman laughed a real laugh this time, and Kara felt the sound into her xcvery core. "Please, don't ask me to tattoo a burger on you. You're too pretty for that."

It was like she knew exactly what those words would do to Kara because she winked right after, making her blush ten times more. "What do you suggest, then?"

The tattooed brunette smiled and tapped her finger on top of the rose. "If you liked this one, it's fine, but I would go with..." She let her voice die as she started turning the pages until she found what she was looking for. "This one."

Kara looked at the drawing and was immediately sold to the idea. It wasn't just any flower. It was a plumeria. Well, two plumerias side by side, with a few leafs to the sides and a mandala carefully placed behind them like it was the third flower. She knew she wanted that one the second her eyes landed on it.

"It would look good on you," she kept talking. "I wouldn’t add any color, though." Kara kept nodding although she was only half paying attention now that she had found the right one. Her silence must have sent twisted signals because the woman’s voice became softer. "I know I said I wouldn’t try to talk you out of this but... are you sure?"

Kara’s eyes moved up then, metting slightly concerned green eyes, and she smiled. "Yes. I'm sure."

The woman studied her face for a few seconds before she nodded once. "Okay, then. Where do you want it?"

Shit.

The panic on her face told her out again and the woman’s laugh filled the space around them like a melody. "Come on, we can figure it out inside."

‘Inside’ being a closed room very similar to the one Nia had gotten her tattoo, albeit it was clear that that one wasn't Jack's. First, it lacked the smell of cigars and heavy cologne that Kara smelled last time and made her nose itch. But it also held a more personal touch like more drawings and a few words scribbled on the black walls. Kara didn’t feel nervous while the woman turned the sign from open to close, explaining that she was the only one who worked on Tuesdays' nights. She also didn’t feel nervous when she entered the room and spotted the comfortable chair she would be sitting on. What made her nervous again was taking her shirt off so she could decide where she wanted the plumerias to be.

She placed the printed drawing on several parts of both of her arms, her shoulders and asked the brunette to hold it at some spots on her back as well. But Kara was only satisfied when she put the paper against the right side of her ribs, a few centimeters below her bra. The woman gave her a knowing look and arched one eyebrow when she said that was the place she wanted her tattoo.

"Are you sure? It can be quite a painful area to get a tattoo, especially if it's your first one."

Again, she wasn't making fun of Kara and she appreciated it, but she also wasn't going to change her mind. "I'm sure."

"Okay. I will put the outlines, then."

It was only when the brunette had her hands against her side and her face a few inches from her chest that Kara realized she didn’t even know who she was. "Hey, I, uh, I didn't catch your name before."

Green eyes glanced up, bright and slightly amused, before they returned to the task of perfectly positioning the flowers on her ribs. "Lena."

"Lena," Kara found herself echoing the name in a whisper before she could stop herself. Lena looked up again, even more amused than before, and Kara felt herself blushing. "It... it suits you."

She had no idea what that was supposed to mean, but Lena smiled and tilted her head to the side. "Thanks." She pushed back the stool she was sitting on. "Take a look at the mirror and see if that's what you want."

Kara took a step closer to see her reflection and tried very hard to ignore the fact that she was standing in front of a stranger in her bra. The plumerias were exactly what she wanted and exactly where she wanted them, and she said that to Lena, who told her to lay down after turning the chair into an improvised bed. While Kara tried to find a comfortable place to lay, she heard Lena slipping on rubber gloves and moving a few things around before approaching her again. She was half expecting her to ask one more time if she was sure, but Lena said nothing when she touched her skin with the black gloves, and raised the needle to her eyes level to make sure it was ready to go.

Kara wasn’t sure if the shivers were from nervousness, the chill air of the room, or the fact that this very attractive woman was touching her just below her breast, but she did her best to ignore it. Lena had pulled her hair into a messy ponytail, Kara realized, and she could see her sharp jawline more easily now. She also spotted five different piercings on the woman’s right ear. For a second, she wondered if Lena could feel her heart beating under her skin or if she could maybe even hear it.

"Be ready for some pain, but try not to move," Lena said while she lowered the needle to her skin. "It will take longer if you keep moving. You also don't want me to fuck this up," she offered Kara a smile to let her know she was joking - at least that's what the blonde hoped for. "Tell me if you need a break."

So, Lena wasn't lying when she said it would hurt. Nia neglected to tell her about the painful part and Kara would make her pay for it by typing down her next article, but, holy crap, it hurt. The first touch of the needle made her jump and hiss, and Lena pulled it away like she knew it was going to happen, giving her a few seconds to recover.

"Sorry," Kara whispered once her body relaxed again.

"It's fine," the brunette mumbled back, totally concentrated on her job now.

It went like that for a few minutes - Kara squeezing her eyes shut, biting her lips, clutching the sides of the chair slash bed, and hissing under her breath whenever she couldn’t hold it back anymore. Until she started to get used to the pain and allowed herself to focus on other things. Her eyes trailed to the few drawings hanging on the walls, taking in the delicate traces and the lack of colors from all of them. She decided that talking would help her with the pain.

"Jack said his boss makes those drawings," she commented lightly.

There was a brief pause before Lena answered her. "That would be me."

"Oh," the blonde breathed out in shock. "So, you..."

"I'm the owner, yes." There was another pause while Lena cleaned her skin with a soft paper. "I used to work for a tattoo artist back in Metropolis before I decided to open my own business. Jack followed me."

"Well, you certainly have talent. Your drawings are beautiful."

"On paper," Lena teased and Kara didn’t need to look at her to know she was smirking. "Let's see how it translate to your skin."

Kara wanted to play along and tell her to ‘please, don't make something awful that would be permanently marked on my skin’, but she found herself saying something entirely different. "Plumerias were my mom's favorite flowers. My dad would bring them to her every Saturday after work because those were the first flowers he ever gave her." She could still remember her father getting back home on Saturdays right before lunch with a bouquet in his hand to her mom and a box of chocolate for her, all smiles and offering hugs. If she tried hard enough, Kara could still remember the smell of her mom's stew mixed with the flowers' smell, could still taste the chocolate. "They died almost fifteen years ago."

Kara had no idea why she was sharing those things with this stranger wearing black rubber gloves and breathing too close to her ribs, but she also couldn't stop. Maybe it was a tattoo thing, like sharing too much about your relationships while cutting your hair.

Lena didn’t shy away, though. She made sure their eyes were locked before saying, "Let's make sure those are perfect, then," and went back to work.

Kara felt herself relaxing more after that, although she didn’t say anything else for a few minutes. "I work as a reporter to a magazine," she found herself saying. "My boss is... both of them are impossible to deal with. I dream about throwing them into space sometimes, but... I love my job. One of them is the reason I'm here today."

"Who should I be thanking?"

Kara blushed one more time, even if she wasn't sure it was said to be flirtatious or if she was just imagining it. "Cat means well, she just... push some buttons sometimes."

"Well," Lena stopped her movements to look at Kara again, this time with a soft smile. "I will be sending this Cat some flowers anyway."

The blonde chuckled at that. "Go back to work. I don't want to end up with a dragon on my ribs."

Lena hummed, eyes dropping back to the outlines of the flowers and needle touching skin again. "I wouldn’t draw a dragon on you," she contemplated. "You're more of an iguana kind of girl."

Kara gasped in faked offense and turned her head to fully stare at Lena with narrowed eyes. "How dare you? You know nothing about me!"

The tattoo artist shrugged, not bothered by her explosion. "Maybe a kitty." Kara huffed and puffed, letting her body fall back on the chair, and did her best to keep frowning. "Definitely a kitty," she heard Lena whispering under her breath, playfully and amused, and Kara was soon smiling. "So... will your boyfriend approve this?"

"Are you fishing for information about me?" Kara teased.

"Huh," Lena sighed. "You didn’t sound this confident when you were stumbling over your words when you first saw me."

She was sure her entire body turned pink with that and she mumbled weakly that: "I was nervous about getting a tattoo."

"Yes, of course," Lena replied and Kara blushed again.

"No boyfriend," she ended up replying because the other alternative was to dig a bigger hole to herself. "Or a girlfriend."

She was ready for another teasing from the other woman, but Lena pulled back instead and eyed her tattoo with her head tilted to the side. "I need you to hold your breath for a few seconds, okay? I'm getting to a delicate part and it would be better if you hold it for, like, ten seconds."

Kara nodded and got ready to pull in a breath to hold it while Lena got her needle ready to go again. When the other woman said so, Kara took in a large intake of breath but, as soon as the needle touched her again, she exhaled in surprise when the pain shot to every nerve in her body.

"I know," Lena said. "It's the hardest part. I promise to be done with it as fast as possible. Can we try again?"

There weren't many options since Kara was already in the middle of getting her tattoo done, so she nodded and waited for the new signal. Kara grabbed the chair with both of her hands, pressed her eyes tightly shut, bit her bottom lip and held her breath for the longest ten seconds of her life before Lena tapped her skin and pulled away with a smile.

"There," she declared in her husky tone. "Good girl."

It was embarrassing how those two words made Kara react. She gasped, the breath still stuck in her lungs almost causing her to choke, and her entire body went stiff when a shiver left goosebumps all over her skin on its way down her spine. She couldn't see Lena and that was a blessing because she could feel the pause that her reaction gave the brunette. So, maybe that was a weird way to find out a praise kink, Kara decided while praying that Lena would brush it as a perfectly normal reaction to have.

"That was interesting," Lena whispered and, this time, the blonde knew she wasn't supposed to have heard that.

The blonde bit her bottom lip so hard that she could feel the taste of blood and she was totally sure that Lena could hear how fast her heart was beating. She could probably feel it, and, God, that was so embarrassing. Kara had half a piece of mind to just pull back her shirt, leave and never go back there, but the other woman didn’t give her time to react before she was once more piercing her skin with the needle. It was still painful, although the mortification she felt numbed it a little bit.

Lena didn’t sound so cocky when she spoke again and she even had to clear her throat so the words would come out less hoarse and more audible. “Just a while longer and we will be done. Can you handle it or should we finish it another day?”

Kara didn’t trust herself to ever come back – and not just because of what had just happened but also because she didn’t think she would be brave enough to get any tattoo needle to ever touch her again. So, she exhaled slowly and nodded. Lena went back to the draw immediately after that and they fell in a half comfortable silence until the trickiest part was over. Or, at least, that’s what Kara thought the trickiest part was because it hurt like hell and Lena had this crinkle between her brows when she glanced back that made her look... cute. Even with the tattoos and the five different piercing sets on her ears, the black clothes, the black room and her undeniable confidence.

It wasn’t until Lena leaned away to get more ink that she spoke again. “Plumerias were very common where I lived.”

Kara thought back on their conversation and wondered aloud, “Metropolis?”

“Ireland,” she corrected gently.

“Oh,” Kara breathed out and then hissed when the needle was back to her ribs.

“Not many people know I’m Irish, so I’m trusting you with this secret, Kara.”

She could hear the joke in the woman’s voice and Lena even poked her side playfully, and Kara heard herself giggling like a schoolgirl. “Your secret is safe with me.”

“That’s not how it works,” Lena declared with a huff. “Now you need to tell me a secret of yours.”

“What?”

“Yes, so we’re even and I can make sure you will never tell anyone what I just told you.”

“It’s not like you just confessed a murder,” Kara argued with an eye roll that was quite too fond to be directed to someone who she had met only two or three hours before.

Lena looked up for a second and their eyes met, making Kara’s face flush red. She was pulling a very uncomfortable position to keep her head raised and turned to the side so she could watch the other woman, and she had just been caught doing that one more time. “No? Well, you shouldn’t go to my office then.”

Kara hummed, trying to sound unimpressed by the joke while fighting back a laugh, and shrugged. “I knew it was weird I didn’t see Jack.”

The brunette let out a breathy chuckle, her hot breath hitting Kara’s side and making her shiver again, before she pursed her lips. “I see you’re too fond of Jack already.”

“Jealous?”

Lena quirked one dark eyebrow and gave her a look – the type of look that Kara tried to pull out her entire life while trying to look all sexy and misterious and was never able to do it – that made the blonde’s entire body warm up. “I’m the one poking your skin with a needle right now, so I think he should be the jealous one.”

Yes, Kara couldn’t keep up with that. She was weird, she rambled, she stuttered more times than not, and just, overall, was terrible at the whole flirting thing. Lena, on the other hand, seemed to be a master on it. Kara didn’t really stand a chance against it, not even for a second. She could try, pull out a word or a phrase here and there, but, in the end, Lena would find a way to leave her blushing and flustered so easily that made her head spin.

(She couldn’t be sure if Lena was just that good or if Kara was just super gay, but, whatever it was, it was working wonderfully)

“Now, come on, spill a secret,” Lena said after a long silence that stretched between them while they just stared at each other’s eyes.

Kara felt hypnotized by the green eyes and that was so unfair. So, damn, unfair. “I get my boss’ coffee order wrong every day.”

Lena stopped with the tattoo again to blink at her a couple of times in what seemed to be confusion. Then, she tilted her head to the side, glanced to the ceiling and opened her mouth as if she was going to say something. No sound came out, she closed her mouth again, and she looked so adorable that Kara felt her rambling coming to the surface again.

“Cat has this really complicated order at Starbucks that makes my head hurt just to think about. 3% fat, quarter milk, a spoon and a half of organic sugar, or whatever that is. It’s my job to get her coffee every morning and there’s no Starbucks close to my apartment, so I stop at another place called Noonan’s and get an order from there.” Lena still hadn’t said anything and Kara couldn’t bring herself to stop talking. “I used to work there, so I have a discount. I can buy a coffee for myself too with the same amount of money I would spend at Starbucks. And she never noticed it!”

There was a pause where Kara tried to come up with more things to say before a loud laugh cut the space around her. She looked at Lena with wide eyes and only slightly offended by her reaction, but the other woman was too busy laughing at her expense to notice it. The brunette used the back of her hand to cover her mouth while she shook her head and kept laughing freely.

“I’m sorry,” Lena said, waving her hand, before being interrupted by her own laugh. “It’s just... Fuck! That’s the worse thing you ever did in your life?” The tattoo artist looked at her again with her eyes crinkling at the sides and Kara felt her anger melting away.

“What? Did you expect a murder?”

“I was hoping that you would say you spit on her coffee, at least.”

Kara gasped. “I would never do that!”

Lena narrowed her eyes at her, a tiny smirk adorning her lips. “But you think about it, don’t you?”

“Every day,” she admitted with a groan, letting her head fall back against the chair.

The brunette laughed again and a cold hand came to rest against her thigh, making Kara’s body vibrate from head to toe. “I won’t tell your secret if you don’t tell mine.” Lena winked – winked – at her and Kara felt her throat too dry all of sudden. The woman chuckled again when the blonde gulped before she gently tapped the hard muscle of Kara’s thigh. “We’re done here.”

“Oh.” Kara blinked in surprise and her eyes immediately fell to her ribs. The skin was red and swollen, but she could see the delicate lines of the flowers and the leaves, and she was hit by the urge to cry all at once. She felt like a little girl again, being six or seven, and running to the door to meet her father, seeing the plumerias in his left hand and the chocolate on his right.

“Hey,” Lena called her gently, ducking her head to be able to catch the blue eyes again. “You're fine over there? I had people regretting tattoos before, but not so fast.”

Kara laughed and shook her head, trying to discreetly brush a tear from the corner of her eyes. “Everything is fine. It’s really beautiful.”

“Well, don’t say that before you take a better look,” Lena pushed her stool away and got up with a refreshed excitement. “Come on, stand up so you can look at it in the mirror.”

That’s what Kara did, sliding off the chair and walking with slightly trembling legs to the full body mirror that she had seen before. The fact that she still didn’t have her shirt on was in the back of her mind while her eyes traced the ink. It looked even better on her ribs than it looked on the paper and she made sure to tell the other woman that, earning a smile that she doubted she would ever be able to forget.

"Here." She turned around to see Lena's hand reaching out a piece of white chalk between her long fingers and sporting a kind of smile that Kara hadn’t seen on her yet - satisfied, the type of smile you give after accomplishing a task that meant something to you. "All of my clients have to write something on the walls. It's tradition," Lena shrugged in the end.

Kara’s eyes swept through the room again, taking in the black walls and words written in almost every inch available under a new light. There were small praises, thanks, some jokes and even a few doodles, and Kara wondered what she could write that could sum up her entire experience inside Lena's tattoo shop. She took the chalk more out of instinct, her brain still working on finding the right words, and Kara took a few steps around the room until she found the right place to write.

It was just below one of Lena's drawings that were hanging from a string, between a Scooby-Doo doodle and the message of someone saying they loved their new rose tattoo. Kara’s handwriting wasn't the best one - sloppy and crooked - and it looked even worse when she was trying to write on a wall, but she managed to write her first and last name to make it look readable. Then, she added her phone number under it and put the chalk inside the small box she found just beside her. Kara turned around making sure her body would cover what she had just written, suddenly feeling too nervous about it, and accepted the plastic foil paper Lena handed her.

"Remember to put on the ointment I told you about and keep it covered so it heals. It should be all healed in a week, tops. You're free to call if you have any doubts."

Lena led the way out of the room and they found themselves once again at the reception desk. Lena picked up the pen she had played with before and scribbled something on a piece of paper beside the computer while Kara reached out for her wallet in the pocket of her trousers. Their fingers brushed when she handed Lena the money and her face flushed red for the millionth time that night. Lena gave her a knowing smile before putting the money away and just like that they realized that they would part ways soon. A small part of Kara, primal and shameless, tried to come up with any reason that would make her stay for a while longer. Anything would do, really.

Even so, there was no reason for her to stay and Kara tried to mask her unjustified sadness by joining her hands in front of her body and forcing a smile to look real. “Thank you again.”

Lena waved a hand dismissively, the pen still hanging between two fingers, before her hand came to rest on top of the other one on the desk. “It was my pleasure.”

“If I regret it in the morning, I will come back with a vengeance,” Kara joked, swaying on her heels, and the laugh that came from the other woman was worth any type of regret she might end up having in the near future.

“As much as I would like to see you again, I would hate for that to be the reason you came back.”

Lena winked at her and Kara’s mouth hang open before she could stop herself. That made the brunette laugh in delight, made a deep blush rise from her neck to her cheeks, and Kara started taking steps back before she could embarrass herself anymore. Alex, Nia and all of their friends were right: she’s a gay disaster. None of them would be able to judge her if they just saw Lena though, of that she was sure.

Stumbling over one of the chairs, Kara let out a nervous laugh and, to her utter terror, she pointed finger guns at Lena. “Have, ah, have a good night, ma’am.”

She missed the door handle twice before she was able to open the door and, by the time she looked at Lena again, the other woman was smiling broadly at her. Ducking her head, Kara walked out the door and let it close behind her. Once the slightly chill air of the night hit her face, she closed her eyes and resisted the urge to hit herself for some very stupid decisions made inside that shop. She wondered if she would ever be able to live it down if any of her friends ever found out she just did finger guns at a beautiful woman as a way to say goodbye.

Well, to be fair, she wasn’t sure any of her friends would let her live it down when they found out about her very spontaneous tattoo.

God, Alex was going to kill her. Not for getting a tattoo, but for doing so without giving it enough thought. And, for Christ’s sake, Alex could be a real pain in the ass when she decided to lecture her for whatever reason it was. She was so not ready to deal with that.

It was only when she opened her eyes again that she realized she was still standing outside the tattoo shop – and that Lena could still very easily see her from her place behind the counter – and, with another blush, Kara pushed herself to start walking. Her apartment was only five more blocks down the street and she took that time to clear her mind from anything negative she was thinking about.

If her crazy and very unusual night taught her anything was that she had the thing inside her that could make her do some very adventurous things. She was capable of doing those things. Maybe randomly getting a tattoo wasn’t the ideal way to prove that to herself, but, damn, she had just renewed faith in herself.

Her poor attempts at flirting were the last thing on her mind when she pushed the door to her studio apartment open and stepped inside, making a beeline to where she had left her laptop earlier that day on the small kitchen table. She pulled a chair after turning the computer on and, reaching out for an apple inside the fruit bowl, she waited for the laptop to come to life so she could open a new file to start typing. She had an article to write, and a trip to plan.

 XxxxxxxX

 It was two days later – after Alex had scolded her for making decisions in a rush, after Nia took pictures of their tattoos side by side to post on her Instagram, after Querl had awkwardly given her a thumbs up, after James raised his eyebrows, after Winn yelped in shock – that something changed.

Kara was lazily reading something Nia had written so she could suggest some corrections before the girl submitted it to Snapper’s approval, when her phone buzzed from its place beside her mousepad – her rainbow mousepad, thanks to Winn. She picked it up, thinking it was Alex inviting her for lunch so she could yell at her a few more times, but the number who had texted her was an unsaved one. She frowned, but didn’t give it much thought before unlocking her screen to read it.

“Since you didn’t barge inside my shop to kill me, I take it that you didn’t regret it?”

The smile that curled her lips up came from within her and it was apparently too obvious because Nia, who was sitting across from her, gave her a weird look and arched one eyebrow in question. Kara shook her head, biting her bottom lip, and turned her chair around so the girl couldn’t see her anymore before typing a reply.

“I never said I was going to kill you.”

“The threat was clear to me,” came the next text just a few seconds later and Kara chuckled to herself.

“Please, don’t tell me you were scared.”

“Why do you think it took me two days to reach out?”

Kara paused at that. She had spent the last two days being sure that, despite their easy flirt with each other, Lena didn’t actually want to talk or see her again. So, to have her texting her now was really... reawakening something inside her.

“Who are you texting?”

Kara jumped on her chair, startled by Nia’s voice so close to her ear all of sudden, her phone almost slipping from her fingers and crashing on the floor. Thankfully, her reflexes were still working and she was able to grab it, but not without throwing a glare at Nia for scaring her like that. The girl gave her a sheepish smile, although she shrugged and didn’t back away from where she had perched on the corner of Kara’s desk to look over her shoulder.

“No one,” came the childish, and not at all convincing, reply and Kara didn’t need to look at her friend again to know she was busted. Now Nia was not going to let it down.

“Really? Because you have been smiling to your phone for five minutes and you just smile like that when Alex says she’s bringing extra potstickers for game night.” Nia smirked and leaned over, trying to read the texts again, but Kara quickly pressed the phone against her chest to block her view.

“Alex just invited me for lunch,” Kara attempted to throw her off.

However, Nia arched her eyebrows. “Really? Because I just texted Kelly asking her to go to that vegan place with me and she said she already has plans.” A pause. “With Alex.” Another pause. “For lunch.”

Kara groaned and turned her chair so she was facing her computer again, slipping her phone screen down on the table. “Fine, it wasn’t Alex, but I’m not going to say anything.”

“Okay.” Her friend gave up way too faster than usual and Kara watched her with narrowed eyes as the girl jumped from her desk to turn the corner back to her own cubicle. Nia was about to sit down when she tried to snatch Kara’s phone away with one surprisingly fast move, but the blonde was even faster, taking it out of her reach in the last second. “Damn.”

Kara rolled her eyes and pushed her chair back. She grabbed her jacket from the back of the chair, throwing it over her shoulders and slipping her phone inside one of the pockets, and threw an overly sweet, clearly fake, smile at Nia. “Now you will have to eat alone because I won’t have lunch with you either.”

Nia stuck her tongue out at her. “I will call Querl!”

Kara waited until she was safely inside the elevator before opening her texts again. There were three more texts since the last time she looked and a smile immediately spread over her face when she read them.

“Okay, I confess, I was a little nervous.”

“You still there? You didn’t change your mind, did you?”

“About the tattoo, not the... leaving your name and number on my wall thing.”

She barely noticed when someone entered the elevator a few floors below, too focused on replying to the texts.

“You? Nervous? You don’t look like the type of girl that gets nervous. And no, I didn’t change my mind about any of those things, actually.”

A new text only came after she was already walking down the street to Noonan’s, but she wrote a quick text to invite Winn for lunch before opening Lena’s text.

“I’m also not the type to text any of the numbers left on my walls. And good.”

“Do you get a lot of numbers on your walls?” Kara asked and she had to make a conscious effort to cross the street to Noonan’s instead of walking straight for a few more blocks to the tattoo shop. She could picture Lena leaning against the counter with her gorgeous smirk and her impressive tattoos – and even more impressive cleavage.

“Jack enjoys them more than I do.”

Kara was about to make a comment about Jack but another text came in before she could and she stopped in her tracks so suddenly that the man walking behind her shoved against her shoulder. She tripped over a few steps, but quickly held herself again to read the words over and over in disbelief. She hoped, of course, but that was... wow.

“I don’t want to be too straightforward here, or overly confident or something, but I have a client coming in five minutes, so I don’t have much time. This won’t sound romantic at all, but would you like to have dinner with me? Tomorrow?”

Kara didn’t have to think too much about her answer, of course. Alex would give her a piece of her mind for agreeing to go out with someone she barely knew – and ‘that’s the whole point of going out to meet people’ was not a good argument on her sister’s book – but Kara would deal with it later. Right now, she had a very gorgeous woman asking her out and she already knew what her answer would be.

“I would love to.”

“What? Really?” Kara chuckled at the rushed text she received back, but another one came just a second later. “Pretend you didn’t read that. I meant ‘okay, great!’.”

Chuckling again, Kara typed a new message. “I know you were the one who asked me out, but may I suggest a place? I don’t have a car and it’s close to both of our workplaces.”

“Whatever you want, just text me address. Let’s say, tomorrow at 7 pm?”

“Can’t wait.”

 XxxxxxxX

 “Hey, Kara?”

“Yes?” She asked, not taking her eyes away from her computer screen and typing away as fast as she could to be able to put all the ideas in her new article. She had never written like that before, but she wasn’t about to complain about small inspirations spikes.

“The front desk called and said there’s a pack for Cat downstairs. Can you pick it up?”

With a small sigh, not because she was mad at Winn for interrupting her but because she would have to go all out of the way to pick a pack she didn’t even know was going to come in, Kara saved her file and pushed her chair back. Nia glanced up and was about to remove her earphones, ready to follow Kara to whatever she was going to learn more about the journalism world, but the blonde made some gestures with her hand that she hoped meant ‘boring things, stay here’ before she started making her way to the elevator.

Jenny, the woman that stayed at the front desk, was kind, around Eliza’s age, and very chatty, which worked fine with Kara when she wanted to waste a few minutes talking along. “Good morning, Kara! How are you?”

“I’m great, Jenny. And you?”

“I’m fine. What happened? I recognize that smile.”

Kara tilted her head to the side, although she couldn’t stop smiling, doesn’t matter how hard she was trying. “What smile?”

Jenny narrowed her eyes and waved a finger at her playfully. “That’s the smile of someone who had a very good night.”

The blonde could feel her face heating up and a nervous chuckle escaped her lips before she could stop herself. She had been leaning against the counter, but she leaned her torso back and tapped her fingers against the hard surface nervously. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Right,” Jenny scoffed, rolled her eyes and started pulling out the packages that she would need to take upstairs with her. There was a yellow thing that was sent by one of the photographers of the last shooting they made, some letters and a few small boxes, which made Kara believe Jenny had been holding those things with her for at least a few days. Cat hadn’t asked for any of that, so it wasn’t a problem. “Don’t tell me then. You don’t have to. Is all over your face.”

Blushing even harder, Kara huffed an anxious laugh and looked down at the counter. She put one hand on her hip as the other one raised to push her glasses up her nose, but she kept her eyes down to avoid seeing the smirk on Jenny’s face. She would have to agree with her, if she did. Because she knew it was, in fact, written all over her face. She hadn’t been able to stop smiling since she woke up that morning – who was she kidding? It had been like that since dinner last night.

It had a reason – and the reason had a name – but she was not going to share any personal details about her life with Jenny. The old woman had the tendency to share everyone’s secrets – which was another reason Kara liked to talk with her so much, but she would never admit to being a gossip girl. She did tell Nia, mostly because her friend wouldn’t stop asking why Kara was fifteen minutes late that morning, though she had made the girl promise not to tell anyone.

It was still pretty new, she had argued.

“If you two slept together, it’s not that new,” Nia had teased back, making her face turn red so fast that James, that had been coming back from the bathroom, asked if she was feeling well.

Even if the whole ‘sleeping together on the first date’ thing was new to her, Kara hadn’t regretted it in the morning. Much like the tattoo. Although, it would be remarkably harder to regret sleeping with Lena when the said woman was spooning her from behind than it was to regret a tattoo that recquired a lot of afterward care. Either way, Kara was living the best morning in her life and it clearly showed on her face.

“Looks like you’re not the only one who’s having a great time.” Jenny’s voice pulled her out of her thoughts and Kara looked up in time to see the woman pulling a big bouquet from under the counter.

The flowers looked cheap and scruffy, which made it seem like someone had just thrown them together without much care. They were yellow and pink daisies, the colors clashed and didn’t work well together, but the card hidden between the flowers was black and easy to see. She knew she shouldn’t because it had her boss’ name outside the card and it was clearly not for her to see, but curiosity took the best of her – that and the fact that the card had been clearly already open, and by Jenny’s face she knew who had done it.

“Thank you – L”

Well, that wasn’t helpful at all.

Sighing and feeling silly for stealing a look, she put the card back and started to try to find a way to pick everything she needed to take back with her. She knew there was a small cart some other companies in the building used to transport stocks and other products, but she was sure she could use her hands if she just pilled everything right. Kara had just come up with a plan when Jenny spoke again.

“There’s also this one. It doesn’t have a card, but it came with the bouquet. Same delivery. The guy couldn’t say anything about it, but I’m sure we can find something if we call the shop and...”

“I think there’s no need,” Kara interrupted gently, without looking up from the growing pile in one of her hands, but she raised her head eventually.

Only to lose track of every thought she was having.

Jenny had put a single plumeria on top of the counter. As the woman had said, there was no card or any type of identification – who it came from or who was supposed to receive it – but Kara connected the dots quite easily. Smiling, she reached over to grab the simple flower and brought it closer to her face to smell it.

“Oh, I see.”

“I have to go!” Kara said suddenly, knowing everyone in the building would know she had just randomly smelled a flower at the front desk that morning. “See you, Jen!”

The look on Cat’s face when Kara gave her the bouquet, not offering any other explanation othan than that there was a card attached to it, was worth every step on the stairs she had to walk up, holding the woman’s coffee every morning. As soon as she was back to her desk, Kara pulled her phone from her pocket and sent a text before Nia could start asking any questions.

“Thought you said that you’re not good with romance.”

The reply didn’t come right away, Kara ended up putting her phone to the side and went back to work. However, as soon as it rang beside her, she grabbed it.

“Guess we’re both learning new things about ourselves. Want to have lunch together?”

And, yes, she totally did.

[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

:)

[willowandfog]

Taking Flight

Summary: Kagome has been struggling with her disability most of her life but she's never felt anything but normal with Inuyasha always steadily by her side. But when her neurologist approaches her with the chance to recover full use of her leg, she takes it.

A childhood friends to lovers, soulmates AU

Read on AO3 or Below the Cut

Sorry this is a day late, work got in the way and I literally fell asleep at my desk yesterday trying to write this chapter ^.^

See you soon for chapter six, first date!

Kagome would never let Inuyasha find out about the fact that she had brought work with her. It really needed to get done, and even though she was technically already on vacation she felt responsible for it. Besides, she knew that she would need the distraction it would bring. She was staying with her mother, Inuyasha and herself had reluctantly agreed to sleep apart for the night. 

Stupid tradition. She thought. It’ll be good for you guys, they said. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, they said. 

Kagome rolled her eyes and sighed. Leaning back she tried to loosen her shoulders and relax a little further into the tub. She would admit that it had been nice to just sit and have some girl time over a lovely dinner with her mother and Izayoi, and her grandfather adding in cheeky commentary every now and then. Steam rose from amongst the lavender scented bubbles as Kagome closed her eyes and shifted her head, trying to get her neck into a more comfortable position, the loose tendrils that framed her face growing damp from the brief dip into the tub. 

The tension in her body began to melt away and she hummed in appreciation. 

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

Inuyasha was in a daze as he sat on their comfortable tan couch. He was in Kagome’s normal spot because it held her scent more than anywhere else, other than the bed; but he decided he wasn’t going to be that guy, laying in bed missing her, yet. The television was on but he wasn’t paying attention, he was missing her; he’d been away from her before, obviously. But never like this, not in a long time, not since they had both turned eighteen and moved into the apartment together. They spent their work days apart but they always, always were together while they slept. It helped soothe them both, him more so with his youkai instincts screaming at him to bond with her. When she was safe and content in his arms he was settled, he was at peace with himself, mostly. He found that the youkai was most quiet when he was being intimate with Kagome and they had been abstaining from that for the past week. 

He sighed, throwing his head back. He felt like there were bugs crawling under his skin, like his youkai was going to claw out of his body and rip the door off its hinges and go find its mate. He knew where she was staying, of course; she was spending the night at her mother’s, but knowing he wouldn’t see her till tomorrow afternoon, and the thought of sleeping without her was driving him crazy. A knock on his door snapped him out of his stupor. 

Kagome! No, stupid, Kagome wouldn’t need to knock. 

With a sigh, he rose to answer the door. When the door swung open he let out an audible groan.

“What do you guys want?”

“Greetings, my liege. Thy fair maiden has bestowed upon us a quest.” Miroku grinned at him as he presented his arm full of liquor bottles. 

“What the hell are you talking about and why are you talking like that?”

“Because he already started drinking in the car and you pick the weirdest friends.” Kouga stated from his position behind Miroku, arms folded across his chest.

Inuyasha sighed. “So why are you guys here?” He stepped to the side to allow them inside.

“Thy maiden-”

“No.” Inuyasha said as he closed the door. “You, speak.” He pointed to Kouga before crossing his arms and continuing. “Why are you here? I’m not great company right now.”

Kouga raised a brow as he ventured over to the couch, just as he was about to sit Inuyasha let out a fierce growl.

“I don’t think so, wolf.” Inuyasha spoke through gritted teeth. “You will sit over there.” He pointed to the armchair. “Don’t think I don’t know why you zeroed in on that spot.” Inuyasha went over and sat in the spot Kouga had tried to claim. 

Kouga rolled his eyes before moving to the chair. “Kagome sent us over as the idiot said. She thought it would be best if you had friends over to help you make it through the night. Well technically she said ‘could you guys go over and have a guys night, Inuyasha might have a tough time by himself.’”

Inuyasha’s heart ached and he found himself rubbing a hand across his chest. Of course she would make sure he wasn’t alone without her. She was the most amazing, thoughtful person in the world. She was so sweet, kind, and never selfish. She should never have to do anything for herself, she should be taken care of, always. 

Inuyasha suddenly stood, he had to go to Kagome, she might need him. He had almost reached the door when Kouga was blocking the way, holding a hand up as if that would stop him. 

“Move. I’m going to Kagome, screw this sleeping apart shit.” 

Kouga didn’t move. “Come on, Inuyasha. It’s just one night, Kagome is safe at her mother’s and you’ll see her tomorrow. You’re getting married tomorrow, the next time you see her she will be walking down the aisle to pledge herself to you. You’re a man, not a wild animal, pull yourself together.” 

Kouga rested his hands on Inuyasha’s shoulders and turned him around, giving him a nudge back towards the couch. “Now go sit, let Miroku pour you a drink and we can hang out and be bros or whatever.”

Miroku handed Inuyasha one of the bottles of bourbon he had set on the coffee table before sitting on the opposite end of the couch.

“Really?” Inuyasha questioned him, sitting. “You think trying to get me drunk will help with my decision making and that I might feel less like shit about the fact that she’s not here?”

Miroku shrugged. “Nah. Just thought a little might help you relax. Try not to be so aggressive, your mate is fine, you’ll see her tomorrow, and for now you sit and relax and hang out with your friends.”

Inuyasha sighed as he twisted open the bottle and took a swig. “So why are you here? We aren’t friends, acquaintances at best.” 

Kouga let out a chuckle. “‘Cause Kagome and I are friends, and she asked me to come over. She wanted someone that would be able to help in case you went all crazy youkai on Miroku trying to leave the apartment.”

“Ok, ok. Fine. I know that this is something that Kagome agreed to, and she obviously wants to stick with it, so I’ll try my best to reign in the urge to bolt out of here. Pick up a bottle Kouga, let’s get drunk.”

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

Kagome sat on the guest bed, back propped up against the headboard, her comfortable Slytherin pajama bottoms on paired with one of Inuyasha’s shirts that was far too large on her small frame. Her damp hair was thrown into a messy bun on top of her head and she had her work laptop in her lap. As she typed furiously away on her computer her mind kept trying to wander. She wondered if Inuyasha was holding up ok, knowing that this separation would be harder on him with his need to bond. 

Checking the time, she knew that Miroku and Kouga must be there by now, she hoped they were distracting him. She contemplated texting one of them to make sure they were over there and that things were going alright, but decided against it since she knew that Inuyasha would have a harder time if he knew she was worrying over him. She was briefly curious to know what they were doing to occupy their time but decided against that line of thoughts so she tried to focus back on her work. 

When she found her thoughts straying again sometime later, she closed her laptop on a huff. Climbing from the bed, she placed her laptop back into her bag before making her way to the bathroom to finish getting ready for bed. As she was brushing her teeth she thought about Inuyasha, and how he had always placed her needs first. Hell, he had built his life around her, his career was even chosen for her benefit. Wanting to be able to take care of her the best that he could, he had gone into physical therapy, spending years in school and gaining his doctorate. 

The surgery she had undergone had worked as well as could have been expected, she could mostly walk correctly, she had a noticeable limp at times but never required her crutch, and when her leg would get sore or start cramping up, she would just wear her leg brace and everything would be fine. Now that she didn’t need constant therapy, she wondered if Inuyasha would think or want to change specialties. She hadn’t had the opportunity to speak with him about it yet, with her healing and rehabilitation after the surgery and with the upcoming wedding, but she made a note to do so soon. 

She would be forever grateful that he had chosen a physical therapy career, but it also caused her some guilt every now and then. He had picked his path because of her; if she hadn’t had her stupid injury, would he still have gone down that road? She didn’t think he would have, and she would make sure that he knew how much she loved him for his decision but that he didn’t have to stay in a career that he didn’t enjoy, especially if there was something else he would rather be doing. 

She snuggled under the covers, tugging the extra pillow over to cuddle with, wishing once again that she was back home with Inuyasha. 

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

“I still can’t believe you tried to kiss her!” Miroku burst into another round of hysterical laughter, almost toppling off his seat. “You’re so lucky,” he sucked in a breath between his laughs, “that Kagome is so soft-hearted. Inuyasha,” more laughter escaped him, “Inuyasha would’ve killed you!”

Kouga tried to resist Miroku’s contagious laughter but couldn’t, finding himself chuckling even as he glared at him. “Well, i-s was worth it; I was a hair's breaths away from being Kagome’s fir-rsst kiss. If I would ‘ave kissed her and died as a result, it would have been worth it.” 

Inuyasha growled. “Watch it.”

“What?” Kouga gasped in feigned disbelief. “You should take that as a compl-lment. Your mate is highly dessirable and she wants only you. If the roles were r-reversed here, and gods do I wish they were, I’d be rubbing it in your face. If I got to touch that perfects body, and kiss those lus-...luscious lips and smell her delicious c-”

Inuyasha pounced, tackling Kouga from his spot on the edge of the chair and rolling with him to the ground. They rolled over one another over and over, both trying to get the upper hand, both too drunk and uncoordinated to function well. 

“Here’s an idea,” Kouga said between the rolls, “we should hav-a rematch, winner getsss to marryy ‘Gome tomorrow.”

Inuyasha jumped to his feet, swaying, and put his fists in the air. “You got it. Y-your’s so going dow..n” He tilted his head as if confused by his own words. “Kick yooour ass again.”

Kouga slowly rose, using the back of the chair for balance. “Dream on, doggie...dog boooy.” 

When Kouga took a wavery step towards Inuyasha, raising his own fists, a loud snore snapped both of their attention to the couch. Miroku lay sprawled out on the couch face down, arm dangling off the side, empty bottle dangling from his fingers. 

Inuyasha dropped his arms and straightened. “Better idea. I go lay on ‘Gome’s sside of the bed, and dream ‘bout how ‘morrow she’ll be my wife and my soul bond-ded mate.”

“Nooo.” Kouga whined as Inuyasha stumbled towards the bedroom. “Come back, fight. I wanna marry ‘Gome.”

“Dream on, wolf.” 

As Inuyasha dropped face first into the bed, he pulled Kagome’s pillow close, snuggling his face in deep as he held it tight to his chest. He breathed in a deep breath of her scent, missing the chirp from his pocket, as he quickly succumbed to his drunken sleep. 

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

Kagome laid there, staring into the darkness, realizing that she couldn’t sleep without the sound of Inuyasha’s soft snoring and his warmth surrounding her. She groaned at herself as she felt the beginnings of tears start to form, swiping at her cheeks when they escaped. Giving in, she rolled over and grabbed her cell phone from the night stand. Rolling back into her spot, she sent a text to Inuyasha, telling him that she couldn’t sleep and that she thought hearing his voice might help.

She lay staring at her phone, waiting for almost an hour before she decided that he must have gone to sleep already. Putting Friends on the television, she laid on her side and hoped that sleep would come soon. 

@ruddcatha @superpixie42 @dawnrider @smmahamazing @bluejay785 @lavendertwilight89 @mamabearcat @fawn-eyed-girl @clearwillow @i-dream-of-soup @liz8080 @zelink-inukag @malditamigs

[hamsterboos]

Have We Met Before?

This is my last entry for Rowaelin month and it's my favorite one out of all of them. I'm really proud of this one, so I hope everyone enjoys it. Thank you to the admin group for holding Rowaelin month!

Song this is based off of is Eric Nam and Sarah Barrios' Have We Met Before

cw: kind of has character death but also not

Word Count: 1821 Read on AO3 Rowaelin Month Masterlist

Day 29 of Rowaelin Month Prompt: A work based off a song

~~~~~~

Aelin was exhausted, and as she sat down in the local café in her new neighborhood, she finally felt some semblance of peace. She had just moved to Doranelle due to an incredible job offer in one of the best publishing houses in this side of the world, and Aelin would be an idiot if she didn’t take it. Granted, she was now farther away from her cousin and her best friend, but she’d deal with anything if it meant working with some of her favorite authors. Packing up everything and moving into a new apartment was hard and tiring enough, but it was even worse with the strange, vivid dreams she’d been getting ever since moving into the apartment.

She moved a hand to rub at her collarbone, a sudden ache passing through the area as she remembered the dream - that was practically a nightmare, if she were being honest - where she had been slashed against that area with a knife before she had woken up with a strange sensation of missing someone along with the deep heartache that followed it.

It felt more like a memory, but that couldn’t be possible.

Shaking off the weird feeling in her gut, she tried to focus on the open word document on her laptop screen. This was the perfect opportunity to drink some coffee, have some great pastries, and get some editing done, and yet, even after nearly half of an hour of working, her mind kept drifting off to the dream.

Sighing, Aelin looked up and was surprised to find a man sharing the coffee table with her. The table was fairly large, big enough to seat four people comfortably, and she hadn’t even noticed when the man had chosen to sit diagonally across from her. She didn’t really mind, but the strange feeling overcame her again as she took him in.

He had silver hair, and his eyes were focused on the book in his hands, and he was fairly built if the tight shirt showing off his pecs were any indication. Under normal circumstances, Aelin would’ve been more than happy to start up a conversation with him — considering how handsome he was and the fact that he was a reader — to try to get to know him more, but as she watched him take a sip of his black coffee, she was astonished that she felt like she already knew him.

But how? Aelin’s brow furrowed as she contemplated where she could’ve possibly seen him. She’d just moved to the country — there was no way she knew anyone already that wasn’t working with her. He was a stranger, and yet the more she looked at him, the closer she felt to him.

It felt like déjà vu, and as the man looked up to glance around the room, his strikingly green eyes reminded her of the eyes she had seen in her dreams. Once they landed on her face, their eyes meeting and causing an undercurrent of electricity to pass through her, it was as though all the breath had been knocked out of her.

Aelin swore she had seen those eyes before, in her dreams no less, but that was impossible. She’d never seen this man before.

It couldn’t be, and yet…

~~~

“Come on, Aelin,” he teased, his green eyes sparkling with mischief. “It’s one dance.” They were sitting on the stairs of her apartment building, and the streets were filled with music. It was the second anniversary of Terrasen becoming an independent kingdom, and the celebrations were going on in full-force. Aelin loved the happy and carefree atmosphere that the music blasting through the streets would bring about, but unfortunately, if she didn’t finish writing down her thoughts on the uprising rebellion against the current regime for Doranelle Daily, then she would just become “another one of those useless women” that her boss, Arobynn, loved to harass.

“Yes, and then one dance turns into five,” she retorted, but without any of her usual snark. “I need to finish this article for tomorrow.” Aelin held up her notebook for emphasis, showing off her unfinished sentence.

“Oh, come on, darling,” her boyfriend continued pestering, pushing her notebook back into her lap and leaning in for a quick kiss that she let him have.

“Honey, let me finish this, and then I promise we will have your dance.”

He looked absolutely petulant for a moment, his nose scrunching up in annoyance, and she reached out to ruffle his beautifully silver hair with a laugh.

“Aelin!” he protested, reaching up to push the wayward strands back down. She simply grinned at him and pecked him quickly before going back to her notebook. She heard him sigh, and she knew then that she had won him over. Her boyfriend got comfortable by wrapping his arms around her waist from behind and settling his chin on her shoulder. Aelin pressed back up into his arms, content and happy with her life.

Until, of course, everything went up in flames.

~~~

Rowan didn’t know what possessed him to sit down at a table where there was already someone sitting there, but he felt compelled to be by the woman with the blonde hair that seemed exactly like the shade of blonde that was plaguing his dreams.

He sat down on the other side of her, diagonal from her so he wouldn’t be directly in her line of sight. She seemed to be typing away, hard at work, and he decided that he would instead just focus on his book. He came out today to get some fresh air, clear his mind after the strange dreams he’d started having every night for almost a week, and that’s exactly what he intended to do.

Instead, he spent the next half hour reading the same two pages, his eyes mindlessly passing over the words, and yet he didn’t actually comprehend any of them.

His eyes kept drifting up, roaming around the room as he looked at the café without really looking, before they just ended back on the woman sitting so close, yet so far.

As he watched her type away on her laptop, Rowan felt as though this quiet, yet stange, comfort he felt around her was familiar, like he had lived through this exact moment before. He watched as she blindly picked up what looked like a sweet latte, if the amount of whipped cream on top was any indication, and then she took a bite of an apple turnover.

Yet, there was no way he had. The woman was an utter stranger — albeit, a beautiful one — and that was that. Rowan had simply lost his mind. There was no other explanation.

He directed his attention back to his book in a last ditch attempt to make some progress before letting out a frustrated sigh as he gave up again. Rowan looked back up at the bustling cafe and then at the woman, and he was surprised to find that she was looking right at him.

His eyes met her blue ones, and it could not be a coincidence that the blue eyes that he seemed to love in his dreams were the same ones that this woman had, down to the golden ring surrounding them.

~~~

They were sitting in their favorite local café, a quiet serenity surrounding them. Rowan didn’t need to be constantly talking to his girlfriend to just be happy and content with her. It was her presence that just put his mind at rest.

She was drinking an intensely sweetened milk tea, and he had just opted for a simple black tea while the two shared an apple turnover. It was one of the few pastries the two had ever agreed on, and they always opted to order one whenever they went out. Money was tight between the two of them, but they made it work to at least always be able to splurge once in a while.

Rowan looked up from his own book and smiled at the sight of his girlfriend furiously writing in her notebook, working on yet another article for Doranelle Daily. Her hair seemed to be getting in her eyes, and instead of tying it up, she kept blowing it out of her face to the point where Rowan couldn’t hold in his chuckle.

“What’s so funny?” she asked.

“You could just tie up your hair,” he responded, laughter still clear in his voice. She looked up at him, her gorgeous blue eyes narrowed towards him.

“Oh, so now my suffering is funny to you?”

“Darling,” he spoke, leaning in closer to her from across the table, “you’re just lazy.”

“Rude,” she scoffed, but she took the hair tie off her wrist to tie up her hair, anyway.

“See? It wasn’t so hard to listen to me.”

“You could try to be a little less annoying.”

“You wouldn’t love me the same.”

“I would love to have some peace and quiet right about now.”

“We could just go home,” he innocently offered.

“So you can distract me from work again? No, thank you.”

Rowan’s jaw fell open slightly out of indignation before he scowled, and that caused a giggle to burst out of her. Rowan let go of his scowl and smiled as well.

This was what he loved, what he cherished.

Until, of course, he lost it all.

~~~

The two estranged lovers watched one another, surprise written clearly over their faces. The lack of recognition between the two was overshadowed by the memories in their dreams. The love bursting in their chest, mingled with the pain of their unwanted separation burned through them, so maybe they would say that the dreams were more like nightmares.

~~~

It was a “wrong time, wrong place” type situation. Nothing more.

The couple were walking down an alley, hand in hand, happily chatting, only to be attacked by rebels, trying to rob them in the dimming sunlight.

The female tried screaming for help when the male pushed her back, trying to protect her as he fought back against the two rebels.

It wasn’t enough.

A third rebel appeared behind the female, slashing a knife across her collarbone, causing a shriek of pain to escape her. Her screams mingled with the male’s as he tried to fight towards her, but a rebel slashed him across his bicep.

The couple was abandoned in the alley only when they had been removed of any jewelry and money, instead left with slashes and stab wounds that had them bleeding out on the ground. They stumbled into each other’s arms, clinging to their love while they would not be able to cling to life for much longer.

Their last words were declarations of love.

~~~

With those last words ringing through their minds, they each felt a pull towards one another, yet she was the one who was able to utter one sentence.

“Have we met before?”

[wordsnwhiskey]

Is It Living If You've Left Your Life Behind?

Pairing: Dave York & GN!Reader

Summary: Thanks to you, Dave escaped the showdown with McCall. You planned to take him to a safehouse on the other side of the country where he could recover and get started on living a new life. In order to do that though, he has to leave his wife, his daughters and his life behind. He can't help but wonder, is it really living if he has to leave his life behind?

Rating: T for Language I guess

A/N: This is my late submission for @autumnleaves1991-blog 's Writer Wednesday. I got into my feels tonight and Dave was calling to me. It's my first time writing for him and this is a different take on Dave than I'd normally go for. A softer/angstier Dave but honestly, given this situation where he survives? I don't see classic Dave shining through, at least not until something kicks his ass into gear. The man is injured and more than a little lost. Also, I'll probably edit this later, it's 03:30 and apparently I have a knack for posting things when I should be asleep.

Masterlist | AO3

There was nothing but the open road ahead of him as he sat in the passenger seat, a permanent grimace affixed to his face. His pain ebbed and flowed but at least that meant he was alive. Alive with nothing but the open road ahead of him and his entire life behind him.

Dave really only had you to thank for that. A life debt for a life debt even if it meant he no longer had his life, not really at least. His girls were well over a thousand miles behind him, everything he’d known and loved, he’d likely never see again. You were the only thing Mac hadn’t counted on and even though Dave had lost religion a long time ago, he thanked whatever god or higher power out there that you had kept your head about you during the showdown.

He had been furious at first that you hadn’t tried to kill McCall, only stalled long enough to get him and yourself out of there under the cover of the storm. His anger had quickly dissipated though, you had made the right call, of course. He still had trouble seeing out of his eye, a concussion from being blown off of his feet and plenty of bruises complemented the odd cut or two Mac had managed to land. Things would have been a lot worse had you not intervened.

You glanced over at Dave, hunched over, curling himself into the passenger window. Dave fucking York. He had really gotten himself in it this time but you couldn’t find it in yourself to blame him. In this industry, shit decisions had to be made all the time and Lady Luck was rarely ever kind. People died, that was the business. What else was the married father of two supposed to do when he was cut loose? Assimilate? That kind of thing wasn’t for people like you or Dave York, not really. McCall was too high up on his high horse to get enough oxygen to his brain and too blinded by his own grief to see it.

Then again, you were definitely biased.

“How’s your pain level?”

You asked, and were met with a withering glare, his newly-crooked, hawkish nose only served to further accentuate the harshness in his eyes.

He hadn’t talked much during the already several day trip. Not that you needed the conversation, but you understood better than anyone he knew who was still alive aside from the man you were fleeing from, what this felt like. You hated how people romanticized it, leaving everything behind and starting over. It never worked that way. Your family and friends lived and died and you couldn’t be part of any of it. And now Dave, Dave had two daughters and a wife but they might as well be poison now. Poison to his mind, torture to think about. Poison to the touch if he ever went to see them again, because surely McCall would be watching them from afar, waiting.

The same thoughts seemed to be on his mind, from the corner of your eye you could see him slump further into the window, clutching a small photograph he had pulled from his wallet. For all that he was, former agent, mercenary, murderer, assassin, he was still a family man, a soft man at heart and going into hiding away from this family had just as much likelihood of killing him as McCall did.

“I’m not going to see them again am I?” Dave murmured as he stared down at the photo, thumb grazing over his daughters’ faces.

You opened your mouth then closed it again, contemplating giving him platitudes or the truth. He chuckled at your reaction, a hollow sound devoid of any humor.

“Spare me the bullshit.”

Your grip on the steering wheel tightened and you let out a sigh.

“I don’t know Dave. If McCall winds up dead then yeah, that’s an option. I haven’t been back to see my family but I don’t have the same… things anchoring me somewhere or drawing me back.”

Silently, he turned to resume watching the passing orange and brown landscape fly by.

It had been about another two hours since he last spoke and he had been so still and quiet, you thought he might have fallen asleep.

“Why’d you do it? Why are you doing this?”

His voice is gruffer, made thicker from the knot of emotion in his throat. It startles you out of your own reverie.

“Do what?”

“Why did you bother saving me? You could have made it out of there and been in another country by now. Fuck, you could have dumped me at a hospital anywhere along this godforsaken road and still be in another country by now.”

You frowned, somehow you had hoped his relative silence meant you would be able to get through this journey without delving into any sort of feelings.

“It crossed my mind, on both counts.”

He raised an eyebrow, not so much in surprise that you had thought about it, more so that you hadn’t gone through with it.

“I didn’t have any part in Susan’s death so McCall would have stopped hunting me eventually.”

You spared him a glance, he was staring at you intently, analyzing.

“Is this the part where you tell me you love me?”

You scoffed and looked at him incredulously then shook your head.

“No, it’s even more pathetic than that, Dave. You’re probably the closest thing to a friend I have and we’ve tried to kill each other before.”

That got a small laugh out of him, because really, what was more ridiculous in their line of work than friends?

Probably having a family. Dave grimaced as the thought echoed in his mind.

“We were the best at what we did.”

He said, with an air of nostalgia and you nodded in agreement.

“And the worst, somehow even with us each taking on contracts for the other, here we are, still living.”

The small smile faded from your lips at his silence and lack of a response. Your gaze fell on him again as he shrugged his mouth and sighed.

“Are we? Is it living if I’m leaving my life behind?”

This was not the Dave York you knew. Occasionally, you had seen the wry humor, and suave exterior give way to the side of him that accepted “New Hamster” as an answer instead of “New Hampshire” but not even that remained. The Dave next to you had all of those layers peeled back. He was raw and unsure.

You didn’t answer him for a few minutes, honestly there wasn’t much of anything you could say that wasn’t a load of shit. You were both too practical for pep talks. Moreover, it wasn’t a question you had even stopped to ask yourself. The answer and the journey to that answer was a dangerous one.

“I- …. It’s the best option you’ve got right now, Dave. It’s a pretty fucked situation, my advice? Take it one hour a time and if you can manage that, take it one day at a time.”

“An hour?” Dave shook his head and rubbed his stubbled chin with his hand. “All I’ve seen for hours is dirt and sand. While Mac is probably watching Carol and the girls like a fucking hawk.”

You pursed your lips, and eyed the upcoming sign detailing the available lodging and food at the upcoming exit.

“Well you’ll have the inside of our next motel room to stare at in another hour.”

Dave slipped back into silence and you simultaneously welcomed and detested it. Things were simpler without him getting all philosophical on you and contemplating what made living actually living. It hardly mattered though because he had already gone and planted that damned seed inside your brain.

You pulled up to a not entirely shitty motel and paid for the night before going back for Dave who was waiting in the car. The room wasn’t terrible and after a thorough check, you could at least confirm there weren’t any critters who would be keeping you company. At least there were two beds.

After a dinner of pizza from the diner down the road you had taken Dave on a detour to the gas station to get a burner phone. In your haste to put as much distance as possible between you and McCall, you hadn’t bothered to get him one earlier. Once that was finished you both headed back to your room to unwind.

Dave sat in one of the rickety chairs at the small table that seemed to be actively trying to shed it’s veneer layer. With a sigh, he went to work stripping and reassembling his pistol. It was calming, relaxing for him. All of the pieces had a purpose, an order, to be pulled apart then reassembled, very much unlike his life right now. Nothing had purpose or order and everything had been pulled apart, leaving him broken shards to piece back together.

Hours passed and by the look of him, you figured Dave’s fingers might have gone numb from the repetitive movements and his eyes were drooping, well his good eye was drooping more than normal since the one McCall had nearly managed to gouge was still a little worse for wear.

“Dave, get some sleep. You’re no good to me or yourself if you’re half asleep.”

You know he’s been fighting sleep for a while now, he does every night just like he fights the pain you’re sure he’s feeling but refuses to take anything for. For the first time since you two set off, you’re not annoyed by it. He’ll sleep soundly at least once he let’s exhaustion take him. All the better for what you have planned.

It wasn’t until 01:00 that Dave was finally asleep soundly enough that you felt you could get up without waking him. Quietly, you made for the table, using the flimsy pad of paper and pen there to write a note before you walked out the door and shut it behind you. Thankfully, the city you had stopped in was populated enough that rideshare services were available and in less time than you had figured, you were on your way to the airport.

Dave woke up and immediately knew something was off. It was too quiet and there was too much sun trying to peek through the curtains for it to be the usual time you both headed out for the day. He sat up quickly and grabbed his pistol, then looked around the room for any signs of danger until his eyes fell upon the pad of paper on the table. A sharp pain arched through his skull when he stood up, a remnant of his concussion. He took the note in hand and began to read:

Dave,

I figure, if I’m lucky, I’ve got 4 hours on you. If I’m really lucky, I’ve got 6. Anything more than that and I’m disappointed in you, Dave.

He looked up from the note at the digital clock on the nightstand, it read 07:30. A wry grin threatens to take shape on his lips. You’d be disappointed.

I’m not going to make this some sort of sappy letter. I don’t have time for that shit. You were right. It isn’t really living if you’ve left your life behind. Out of the two of us, you’re the only one who really has one to miss. The only way you get to go back to Carol, Molly and Alice is if McCall is out of the picture, so I’m going to give it a shot. I left you enough cash to pay the room through the week and then some. If you don’t hear from me after a week, call the number at the bottom of this note and tell him you’re cashing in a favor for me. He’ll help you out. Might even know someone else who can help with your family. I left you the car, keys are on my bed.

Good Luck.

Dave’s throat went dry and then he saw at least four shades of red before he finally calmed down to assess the situation. Then all at once, it was like ice had been poured in his veins and things began to shift into focus.

What the fuck was he doing?

This entire time he had been wallowing, perhaps well earned, but he should have been planning. He had let his grief for the loss of Susan, the storm of emotions he felt seeing Mac still alive and a simple job that had spun drastically out of control, completely cloud his judgement. He was just as well trained as Mac, but he had let his anger and emotions get the best of him on that watchtower, he couldn’t let that happen again.

Dave moved quickly and methodically as he collected everything he needed from the room and headed out to the car. He really shouldn’t drive with his eye being what it was but he only needed to get to the airport and he could make it that far at least.

He couldn’t let Mac kill you, like Ari, Reznik, and Kovac. Family.

Like hell if he was going to let the closest person he had to a friend get killed.

If anyone was going to kill you, it’d be him, just for you trying to pull off something as stupid as this.

He knew this was the best move though, Mac wouldn't be expecting an attack this soon this time, the attack wouldn't be in the middle of gale force winds on Mac's home turf. You... and he would have the upper hand this time.

Dave got through the airport with relative ease thanks to him having TSA pre-check, no one bothered to ask him about his eye which he did his best to hide with a baseball cap.

He sat down and waited for his flight to be called. Mentally, he began going through the disassembly and reassembly of the rifle he had with him at the watchtower to help focus himself and pass the time.

The PA system broke his concentration and alerted him that it was time to board. Dave was tense when he finally got to his seat and sat down. His jaw was set in concentration as he started to come up with a new battleplan and weighing his options. Yes, he was injured but he'd been through worse on missions and come out on top.

At least one person was going to die by the end of the week and he'd be damned if you and him weren't the last ones standing.

Thanks for reading, tagging a few people interested/who might be interested:

@wheresarizona @pascalsimp @beesting77 @boxdyeblonde @lackofhonor @kaybrownies @agentwhiskeypussyindulgence @elegantduckturtle @janebby @faithkeeper-81 @doin-stuff @danniburgh @pascalslittlebrat @mothandpidgeon @mouthymandalorianalso @phoenixhalliwell @kesskirata @starlightmornings @wyn-dixie

[fakecrfan]

Since you very nicely offered to write me a fic:

Your prompt is: A story about a background character or characters dealing with life after the TMA apocalypse.

It can be set in the OG TMA universe in the post-post-apocalypse, or it can also be set in a different universe that was affected by the events of MAG 200.

Both OCs and characters established in-show are allowed.

This one aligned so well with my interests that I am actually tempted to open my inbox, briefly, in case anyone else has questions like “what is X bavjground character doing after the apocalypse?” so I can make a series out of it and expand on my post-post-apocalypse headcanons.

For now, you can read your fic here, on over here on AO3

---

Sarah doesn't know where she is.

England, she has to still be in England, she thinks. But it's not an England she recognizes. Not the cobblestone streets of London, and not the moors she used to visit on her vacations. The ground is barren, as though all blades of grass but a few have shriveled up and died. There are no trees, houses, or landmarks for miles--just scorched remnants of where they might have been before.

For a moment, the emptiness of it all is a relief after the hotel. But everything is the same on all sides, and she doesn't know where she is or where to go. She's starting to get hungry, too. She never got hungry in the hotel, nightmarish as it was.

She has to sit down for a moment, take a few deep breaths, and think.

Get food. Find shelter. Survive.

Find Alex.

(God, why had she left her child in a hotel room? Little twelve year old Alex who was still afraid to sleep without a night light. He'd begged her to stay, she should have--)

With that in mind she gets up. Doesn't know what direction to walk in, so she doesn't concern herself with trying to pick one. There's nothing to do but walk, keep her eyes open, and hope.

So she hopes.

---

None of our old maps match the landscape, anymore.

The world these days it's... not like in the before times, as I suppose we're calling it. Despite our hopes, ending the apocalypse wasn’t like everyone waking up from a nightmare. The land is...

It's scrambled, I guess. There are patches of the world that--well. They're not the same, but still have infrastructure intact. Electricity, running water, air conditioning. No scorched earth or rubble in these areas. Just a bunch of traumatized people living in an intact town, or city.

When I talk to them, they tell me it's not the city they remember, though. Everything has been switched around, houses and stores not where they remember them. Their neighbors aren't the neighbors their remember.

Those are the lucky ones. And then there's, well... the outside.

Some places have rubble everywhere, jagged steel ripped apart and waiting for someone to cut themselves on it. Some are frozen over, still waiting for the ice they were frozen over with in the apocalypse to melt. Some are scorched to dust. No phones out there, or anything that lets you connect back with home base.

I'm going out there. We need to map it out. We need to figure out our new world, understand it--and we need to get as many people out of the wastes as possible.

Melanie, Georgie--I’ll see you soon.

---

Sarah does find water. That's something. She's hungry still, so hungry, but she knows that the water is more important.

She wonders if she should stay there. She doesn't know if there will be more watering holes in the future, after all, and she has no way to carry it with her. She decides to keep moving on, and hope for the best.

She starts to see blades of grass poking up, along with some sort of metal crap strewn about the landscape. She looks at them a moment--it seems to be bits of an old carousel? Eventually, a giant sit in their shade, for a while. There she takes a moment to look at the horizon, and goes cold.

She recognizes the tower on the horizon.

A  scaffolded tower with two legs beneath it. A sight she'd last seen on a postcard from her brother. The Eiffel Tower.

Is she in Paris? No, that can't be it. It's just the tower out here in the wastes. There are none of the buildings that would normally surround it. It's almost as though its been ripped out of the city and transported here.

Does Paris even exist anymore? Does London?

If she even finds Alex, will there be a home for them to go back to?

---

I have a theory, Melanie. I think lots of people got transported to different places in the world based on what fear they belonged to. Like, a bunch of lonely people were put in the same place, a bunch of claustrophobic people were put in the same place, and so on. All away from the people they knew.

I’m in one of the suburban safe areas now. No one here knows each other. I talked to them all, and all of them remember living in the same house before, but none of them recognized the houses near them or the people in them. When I went from house to house, everyone had a different native language. I talked to a German guy and a French guy who spoke English, but a lot of them… couldn’t talk to me at all.

There was a woman who--she saw me and she lit up. She grabbed me and started talking a mile a minute in Arabic, I think. But I couldn’t understand her, and she--when I tried to talk back to her in English, her face just. Fell. And then she started to cry.

My dad refused to speak it at home, you know. He-- Actually, never mind. It’s not important. 

She ended up shoving me away.

---

Sarah makes it to the ruins of a forest. 

There’s nothing but stumps left of it, along with litter everywhere. She finds water again, filthy brackish water, and she drinks it anyway because she’s so thirsty. She starts sifting through all of the garbage strewn about for something edible. She finds stale bread crusts crawling with ant and eats them anyway. 

She finds a can of beans, and almost cries. When she can’t find a can opener, she screams instead.

---

The death count has gotten to me, honestly.

I’ve found dead bodies even in the towns and cities. Some looked like heart attacks. Some suicides. People who woke up but couldn’t bear the agony they’d just gone through. That’s still not… the worst of it.

I passed a whole field of dead bodies today.

Hundreds of people, I think, all of them lying dead in the soil. But there were... trails. They had been walking, before they collapsed. All walking in the same direction, to where you can still see London on the horizon.

They were alive. They were trying to get help. And they just... starved, it looks like. The walk was just too long.

How many people are going to die from it all, Melanie? How many already have, out where we can't see them?

I left as many jugs of clean water and rations along the roads as I could. I put up signs pointing to London, saying how many miles out they were, where I had stashed food. I gave them your number, so they know who to call to get to the shelter.

I hope it means the next group that passes by won't die.

I hope there is a next group.

---

Sarah can see what looks like a city in the distance before she collapses. 

She tries to get up, but can’t. She’s been walking for days now, it feels like, only sporadically drinking and almost never eating.  There just isn’t enough energy left in her to stand.

She tries to think about little Alex again, running around in his Batman cape, hoping some kind of love or maternal instinct will kick in and give her the last burst of adrenaline she needs to get up. It doesn’t work. Maybe she doesn’t love her own son anymore, really. Maybe it’s just been fear and guilt driving her this far, and that source has already been wrung dry. 

She manages to crawl a few feet, before she can’t even do that. With nothing else left to do, she starts to cry out. “Help! Water, please!” 

She doesn’t think anyone will hear, or show up. But against all odds, in her dimming vision she sees a figure come into view. Backpacked, clutching a water bottle. 

“Help,” she croaks out again. 

The figure gets closer, and she starts to be able to make out the details of his face. He’s her age, or older, with worry lines carved into his forehead and wide eyes. His nose looks eerily like her brother’s nose, and the shape of his jaw reminds her of her old boyfriend, the one who left her with--

She blinks. Maybe she’s hallucinating, or maybe she’s somehow run into a long lost cousin. But then, the man’s eye’s widen and his mouth opens.

“Mum?”

No, no it can’t…

“A-alex?”

No, Alex was a little round cheeked boy. This is a thirty year old man, at least, taller than her. It hasn’t been that long. It can’t be, it’s not--

“Mum?” He’s doing a frown that looks so, so familiar. This has to be a dream. “Mum, it’s--no.”

He sniffles. He steps forward, and steps back. He paces, uncertain.

“No, no,” she hears him mutter. “It’s all fake, all fake. It’s a trap. That’s what they want, the monsters and the face stealers. No one is real. Don’t give them what they want--’’

“Please.” she begs. 

But she hears him walk away, sniffling, and shortly thereafter everything goes dark. 

---

I have a confession to make, Melanie. I was going to side with Jon, back then. I could have lived with keeping everyone here suffering to prevent more of it. But when he said he was going to kill the whole world, not just leave it--that’s what made me snap. 

I couldn’t let the whole world die. Genocide of the entire human species? Anything but that. Surely passing along the suffering would be better, as long as it didn’t lead to the extinction of whole worlds. But… 

I keep finding more dead bodies.

I went back to that suburb I talked about, to restock on all my food. It was a lonely domain before, I think. I’d thought everyone there would be fine, you know. They didn’t have any deadly sicknesses, or twisted flesh injuries. They had food and water and shelter. But when I went back… more of them had died. 

Lots of suicides. Some of them snapped, and started to self injure.

The German guy I talked to had started to starve. He had a pantry full of food and he just wouldn’t eat it. I tried to get him to eat, to move in with someone else, but he said talking to people “made him sick.” 

I gave up, and left. I had to. There were too many people, and too much to do, so I left him. He’s probably dead now, or going to die soon. Because he can’t find the will to live, and I don’t know how to help someone with that.

The Lonely is probably one of the least directly harmful entities, right? This domain was just a suburb, probably the most comfortable you could get during the apocalypse. And yet the victims are still all dying. 

How much worse is it in places without food and water? In the corruption domains that still probably have deadly diseases spreading? In war zones, in flesh factories?

I think about that nursing home we found. All of the patients who'd died of heart attacks a few minutes after they'd woken up. The ones left alive screaming for help where no one could hear them, for days after the fact. All of the ones that died in their beds before we found them. 

I think about that field of bodies I found the other day. I think about the ruins of that Circus I found, people refusing to talk to me or each other--refusing to help because they didn’t believe it was over and thought everyone else was a mannequin. 

I think… I think it doesn’t matter that we saved the world. If people can’t find the will to live, ro rebuild, to trust and help each other again… I think we’re going through a mass extinction event anyway. 

---

Sarah’s in a car, she thinks. Not a moving one. She’s propped up against a seat,There’s something plastic pressed to her lips.

“Come on,” says a woman’s deep, level voice. “Come on. I got you. We’re getting to London. All you have to do is drink.”

Sarah opens her eyes. She sees a dark-skinned woman trying to coax her to drink, holding up a water bottle. 

“Just a sip,” the woman says. “Just enough to make it.”

Sarah closes her eyes, and takes a long moment to consider whether she wants to.