#someone pls destroy Netflix

[lunarsolar1]

I am truly devastated

I refuse to believe this is real or true I just can’t

[dreamersparacosm]

jeon jungkook - bad intentions

warnings ; nsfw (18+!!!!!!), unprotected sex

prompt ; in which a TikTok edit sparks a desire to get absolutely destroyed by your boyfriend.

note ; hey… heyyyy *opens door* um idk what this is but I’m back with a new fandom and this random piece of writing. this is my formal request to join the bts fandom pls xoxo i promise im fun and can write hellish smut

It’s cruel that you live with someone as attractive as your boyfriend.

It’s even more evil that the world posts TikTok edits of your boyfriend to seductive songs that make your underwear soak through with arousal.

All that to say, you’re not really making your life any easier by watching every single one that stumbles across your For You Page.

You have been better. It was a slow Sunday: one where your boyfriend sits perched on your shared living room couch, mindlessly playing with his lip ring as he watches some Netflix show. It’s nice having him like this, all for you, in a space you two built for yourselves. But you, you’re in the bedroom, aimlessly scrolling through an app that has taken up more than enough of your time and perfectly curated content about your boyfriend and this silly little band he’s in.

But it’s when, and only when, you stumble across an edit of your boyfriend to a The Weeknd song, that you shoot up in your bed, blink rapidly, inhale a sharp breath. Your heart catches in your throat, does that stupid little flutter thing. And then.. the clench that follows down below. You replay it once, twice… a third time.

Don’t be weird. Do not be thirsty.

But, he is yours. That much, you do know.

You close the app, delete the page off your phone. It’s not like you two have a boring sex life, he takes care of you and you never feel dissatisfied. In fact it’s rather the opposite. This one time being two nights ago when he had your legs up on… never mind. You look at your black phone screen in disgust. Do not be a horny little freak.

Well, one last look at the edit won’t hurt.

You go back to the fan edit. Glance at it, slap your hand over your face, peek through your middle and ring finger. Fuck.

The arousal that had pooled before in your underwear was now a full-on ocean. Really, you should have more decorum than this. You don’t really want to bother Jungkook, he’s had a busy week with the boys… but it also has been two days since you two have had sex.

Fuck it.

You swing your legs off the bed, shuffle down the hallway of your apartment. You spot your boyfriend lounging on the couch, his back to you. Even from where you stand, you can see his build, his biceps.. Gosh. You sound like a hormonal teenage girl.

You creep up behind him, wrap your arms around his neck and press a few sloppy kisses down it. His hand flies up to caress your arm that’s hung around his neck, a little laugh leaving his mouth, “Well, hello to you too.”

You decide then and there in that moment: You’re going to die if you don’t have him. Maybe that’s a little dramatic, but you’ve lost all strength.

“Hi,” your voice is frail, weak even, as you kiss along his jaw. He sucks in a deep breaths, fingers drawing circles on your arm. His eyes are glued to the television screen like if he looks anywhere else, he might combust.

You detach your arms from around him, moving to the front, blocking his perfect view of the screen. He looks up at you with those doe eyes you love so damn much. One look at you and he gathers quickly there will be no more watching of television.

With little words, you straddle him, knees on either side of his thighs. Jungkook feels up your thighs, smirks a little, “What did I do to earn this right now?”

You are well aware of how needy and desperate you look right now, but that doesn’t matter. You let out a little sigh, pushing your lips onto his. For some reason, you feel like some little fangirl who is hooking up with her celebrity crush. The cold metal from his lip ring is a welcomed feeling, and you place your hands on his neck, feeling the structure and heat of his skin. God, you are going to cum just from this kiss if you keep it up.

Pulling away a little, you look into his eyes, “Nothing specifically… I just…”

You sigh, go back in to kissing him again. Those plump pink lips of his work against yours, shivers running down your spine as he runs his hands up and down your bare thighs. “Just what, baby?” He speaks in a low tone in between the incessant kissing.

“I’m so fucking horny,” You admit.

Upon the minute those words leave his mouth, you feel his cock begin to press against your inner thigh. You’ve got him right where you want him. And it’s not that this isn’t normal; it is. But you’ve essentially offered yourself up to him on a silver platter and the act of desperation you got going on right now is really doing it for him.

“Hmm?” He hums against your lips, his hands roaming underneath your shirt to trace your spine. And you could marry him right now for being so quick to go along with it. For not pushing you, for letting you set the pace.

You start to grind yourself down on him, the wetness soaking through your pajama shorts you have on. It is criminal how much you need this man inside of you, now. “What do you need from me, baby?” He starts to kiss down your neck as light whimpers exit your throat from the friction of your shorts on his grey sweatpants.

“N-nothing,” You exhale out. “Let me ride you.”

“Fuck.” He groans out.

“You need me that bad?” He brushes a strand of hair off your shoulder, kisses down your supple skin.

“Yes, please,” Your voice cracks. You can’t take it anymore; you think you might combust into a million little pieces.

“Well, go on, my love,” He removes his lips from your skin, smirks, sits back against the couch. “Have me.”

He does not need to tell you twice. There’s no time for pleasantries. You move your legs off his, lower down his sweatpants enough for you to be able to access his boxers. You kick off your shorts, leaving the underwear on; there’s not a single shred of a fuck left in you.

Jungkook is sat there, an amused look plastered on his face, mixed with a level of adoration you are not sure you have seen before. His arms have moved, now splayed out across the top of the couch, his biceps flexing. You straddle him again, remove his throbbing cock from the confines of his boxers. Fuck, if you weren’t so ready for him, you would’ve taken him into your mouth.. but alas, no time to waste.

You push your panties to the side, rub your juices over his length. He lets out a little moan at that, watches you eagerly get ready to take him whole.

With a gasp, you align him to your entrance in search of relief. You engulf him, take him in inch by inch until you bottom out. Honestly, you could unravel just from that. “Holy fuck, baby,” His head falls back, eyes still glued to the sight of you fully taking him to the brim.

You never really do get used to how big he is; when you two first started dating, he stretched you out so wide you were certain you would never recover. Your bottom lip is sucked in between your top teeth, rushed exhales leaving your body as you slowly begin to move, begin to gyrate your hips and lift yourself up and down on his pulsing cock. “Oh my god,” You breathe out, hands moving to his broad chest, gripping onto him to steady yourself

He’s not doing much, besides just watching you in complete and utter awe, and yet that still takes your breath away. “You look so unbelievably sexy right now,” He says, barely even realizing the words leave his mouth, since they were mostly meant for his inner thoughts. His hands come around to land on your hips, the pads of his fingers pressing into the bone. There will definitely be a bruise there tomorrow.

You lull your head back, close your eyes tight. It’s all you can do to try and keep yourself together. You’re an absolute mess right now; pussy squelching with each stroke, his cock a mix of yours and his arousal. The only sounds that can be heard in the apartment are the slapping of skin and the moans that continually leave both of your mouths. “[Y/N]…” He moans out. You look at him, deep in those eyes that you love so much.

And there’s such… desire on his face, his pupils blown wide, his jaw slack. He is so undeniably hungry for you, and it’s going to kill you. You speed up your bounces, losing a little more control with each and every passing moment. Your arms snake around his neck, pull him even closer to you. “Fuck, I am so close,” You whisper out, mostly to calm yourself down.

“Yeah?” Is the only word he can muster right now. “Need you to cum for me. Want to make sure you’re taken care of.”

It is all so filthy; the sounds, the look he’s giving you, the way your nails are digging into the flesh of his neck and leaving marks. Your half-lidded eyes meet his, gaze dropping down to his lips. You press a few sloppy kisses on them.

“You like this, hmm?” he asks, fingers digging even deeper into your hip bones that you’re certain he is leaving an imprint on your skull. “Having me like this ready for you? Does that get you off?”

His words elicit a clench around his cock, your walls tightening around him. He is absolutely correct. He knows he’s hit the mark. “Talk to me.” His tone is soft but threatening.

“Y-yes, it does. Oh my god, Kook..” You can barely think, any singular thought beside how incredible his cock feels inside you, how you can feel him penetrate your stomach with his entire length. “I’m gonna cum.”

It’s so close, it’s teetering on the edge. Every nerve ending in your body craves him to a point where you wonder if you need to be institutionalized. All you can see is that stupid edit made by that fan flash across your head, your brain unable to comprehend that that is the man you currently have inside of you. “Cum for me, darling..” He coos.

It nearly wrecks you, this orgasm. It washes over your entire being and you’re so loud you’re certain your neighbors will come knocking down your door. Your bounces go from focused to frantic, hips gyrating wildly, and he wraps an arm around your entire waist, picking you up lightly. He begins thrusting into you at a shallow, quick pace, chasing after his own release. Jungkook lets out a few grunts, eyes trained on the sight in front of him; and then he shudders, his cock throbs inside of you, head falling onto your shoulder as he feels himself empty out inside of you. You’re struggling to catch your breath, gripping onto the hair at the nape of his neck.

“My god..” You breathe out. You’re still sitting on him, cock warm inside you as he lifts his head from your shoulder, meets your fucked-out face.

“Baby, that was so incredibly hot, you have no idea,” His face is flushed, hand reaching up to caress your cheek. You entwine your arms and legs around him, holding him close, drawing him deeper into you. You stay there, hearts pounding in unison, as if they're each trying to break free from your chests, desperate to draw nearer. And still, even in this perfect closeness, you long to feel him even closer.

“Mhmm,” You hum out, quite content with yourself. You press a soft kiss to his lips.

“So… care to share what made you jump my bones?” He teases, pressing another kiss to your lips.

“Oh, nothing…” You act coy, but the heat creeps onto your face regardless. He pokes your side, eliciting a giggle from you that has you folding like origami.

“Maybe… just saw a little something on TikTok..” You trace circles on his collarbone, avoiding his gaze.

“Continue.” He presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Some girl made an edit of you..” It’s low when it leaves your mouth, he can barely hear it. “Just wanted to remind myself I can have you.. whenever I like.”

You bury your face into his neck in sheer embarrassment, feeling his warmth and the vibration as he chuckles. “You can have me whenever. I’m yours, baby.”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

masterlist + request

[sturnsjtop]

When I said I wanted enemies to lovers I didn’t mean one insult and their all over each other. I want a slowburnnn. Yk prob like 2-3 parts where it’s like full-on insulting and teasing and yelling. And also him going too far and after he feels like super bad and guilty is my favourite thing everrr. I love when people feel bad for me like yes apologise to me rn but I won’t accept it cuz I want you to follow me and watch my every move and text me on every platform existing cuz I blocked you everywhere. Beg me for forgiveness on ur knees until they bleed like 😇🥰🥰😘. After I’ll still not accept it and make you go more mad and you will start to dgaf but you will after I make you so mad you insult me again. I’ll fake cry and you’ll feel more guilty than before. You’ll do anything in your power to make me forgive you and I’ll just act like an innocent little girl how’s the victim of a toxic person’s enjoyment. I’ll tell you that you hurt me so much that I got depressed and didn’t get out of my bed for days. You’ll feel super guilty so you will buy me presents to make up for your outrageous behaviour while I’m just chilling and watching “YOU” on Netflix planning my toxic and delusional life with you like Joe🥰. (Except the fucking cage cuz like I’ll go in jail but again😇) Eventually I’ll forgive you and we’ll start to date but I’ll start little arguments with you until you get so fed up you break up with me. But dw I wanted that. I’ll act super destroyed and hurt telling you that I love you and I started those little arguments cuz I cared for you and wanted the best for you. You’ll fall for it and we’ll get back together. We’ll have little arguments but we’ll fix them and life a happy ever after 😇

this is acc what i want. But I’m so sensitive I’ll fr never forgive them if they’re mean. Like if they make fun of me or bully me I’ll fr hate them forever but matthew sturniolo is matthew sturniolo 😁

Idk if im toxic but 😇

PLEASE TELL ME IF IM MENTAL

(and someone pls agree with me on this. I promise I’m not toxic guys😇)

[aweelou-sketches]

Netflix once again destroyed our dreams of a new season, but I'm glad at least I can read the others 5 books. It's a pity I won't see again these actors playing along together, but I hope we can see they again.

Now I must read the books, someone pls kick Netflix arse and SAVE LOCKWOOD&CO

[nothingneverforever]

Stuff I’ve just watched and almost completely did not enjoy

First, Superstore (2015-2021): I watched this show mostly while getting ready for work in the morning or brushing my teeth at night, really just moments where I’m not focusing much and needing to wind up/down, but there were probably only 5 minutes of all the six seasons that I enjoyed even remotely. I know it seems to be a sitcom must-have but really, does every character have to be unlikable? Is that really the only way to depict realness? And I don’t think they were intended to all be insufferable but then again, how could the characters not intentionally have been written that way? Were we actually supposed to feel endeared to their irritating qualities? Which never changed from start to end btw

Did I cry from being utterly moved in the last 10 minutes of the very last episode of the sixth season, yes. Does that mean anything, absolutely not omfg in fact as I’m typing this I’m reminded more and more of how irritating this shit was… and why do Americans only know how to write about or talk about or involve themselves in sex? Can fucking grow up or not seriously

Ok fuck this shit too I’m sorry I am not anywhere near invested enough to find a better or more effective or astute way of conveying this complaint. When this film first showed up on my home page, I was okayishly-interested since I find Gabrielle Union likeable enough (also thinking of her makes me think of her husband who makes me think of LeBron which is an ever-pleasant experience naturally) but also the male lead Keith Powers is someone who bring such nostalgia, I remember being in my teens and following the fashion world quite closely for whatever nonsense reason and specifically keeping up with the models and runway shows for the sake of saving the pictures as inspiration for my then-“art” creation (OGs remember howmanybrothers…). Anyway, I remember Keith from this era so well : https://black-boys.tumblr.com/post/89627223362/keith-powers-calvin-klein-ss-15/amp

And of course, I excused or perhaps even allowed the ridiculous age gap the leads have (IRL as well as in the show which is about 20 years) because ummmm feminismmsms and reverse sexism ain’t real right gang 😂😅 but anyway yes obviously I was entering into my viewing ready to enjoy a joke of an experience but

Bruh

Fuck this disgusting shit dude

Yes, the leads are talking about sex and yes, the male character wants to ruin and destroy and demolish the female character in this context …. Shocking!!!!!!!!!

We really can’t have one single fucking romance movie that isn’t pornified in language or imagery or reference huh

Anyway I stopped the movie at that point obviously cos I fucking died

And then again obviously I continued about 3 hours later when I’d run out of cat videos to watch and I need constant constant feed of media input lest I pause and think about work or the rest of my life and add to my alter act overwhelming amount of stress….

And the movie got worse guys she got preggers and they stayed together also she is his mom’s age in the show and they are long-time nemeses so yea 😂😂😂 this is the society liberals want?!!!??!!!??

May my next Netflix watch be something lovely and warm and real and no freaking stupid idiot sex references or scene or whatever boring unimaginative shiat pls…

Anyway I rewatched Haunting of Hill House recently and it was the best ever hehe!

[idontlikeuormyself]

In the discourse of "separating the artist from the artwork" and "consuming the work of problematic artists"

I don't think it's wrong to keep listening the music/reading the books that u liked. What's wrong it's supporting the lifestyle of this person/people even when u know what they did.

Some examples:

• "I bought this CD from X band and now i know they're pedophiles/racists/rapists/bad people in general" U didn't knew, u can keep listening to the CD, or pirate some songs, even diy posters or smth if u like the aesthetic idk, just DON'T GIVE THEM UR MONEY.

• "This series of books I LOVE are created by a Bad Person" and u started reading them when u were a child, or recently, maybe even last week, BUT from now on DON'T GIVE THEM UR MONEY. Download the illegal pdf, if u want, print them and bind them yourself. Or buy them secondhand.

• "This singer/actor/public figure said horrible things about my community, I've been following them for years and i have a lot of their merch" Great, DON'T BUY MORE. And u can keep using the t-shirts and posters and all that, BUT BE CONSCIOUS AND DON'T RECOMMEND THEM TO PEOPLE WHO ARE GONNA GIVE THEM MONEY.

STOP SUPPORTING A BAD PERSON BC U LIKE THEIR MEDIA!

And don't throw ur things, THAT U ALREADY OWN AND AIN'T GIVING THEM MORE MONEY, cuz that may lead you to having to buy more things and go over-consumption mode. If u don't wanna wear something anymore make patches, upcycle, diy yarn, paper, things.

I get that burning/destroying the things that are about a bad someone is kinda symbolic (and tbh u do u) BUT THINK A LITTLE. Are you really helping ur cause by destroying YOUR things?

"But Spotify/Netflix/Amazon are so convenient! And I can get anything for like half the price!" IF THERE'S A SINGLE PENNY GETTING TO THE ASSHOLES JUST CUZ U WANT TO MAKE UR LIFE A LITTLE EASIER U ARE STILL SUPPORTING THEM ECONOMICALLY.

"But I'm disabled and I need the X official thing to be able to enjoy it" Mai love. U get a tiny, itsy bitsy, smallest past. STILL U GOTTA TRY TO FIND WAYS TO NOT SUPPORT THE PROBLEMATIC PEOPLE, PLS. Maybe, consider this, U don't really need the work of this creator and can find joy in something similar.

TLDR: The only "separate the media from the artist" that counts is the one that doesn't support the artist economically. So go be a pirate (and DIY'er). Also don't recommend anything from problematic creators to people u know won't make the tiny effort of getting anything the pirate way.

[jayktoralldaylong]

I love this.

arcane act 3 thoughts on accountability (in terms of viktor and jayce)

I like how Jayce and Viktor are forced to take accountability for their own actions as a result of what they do in act 3. There’s no silly drama where the two miscommunicate and then yell their ideologies at each other. Rather, the conflict comes from the two being put into positions where believable external influences are forcing them to challenge their own personal moral boundaries. Jayce is pushed to the edge by having to deal with the responsibilities of being a councilman while trying to do what’s “right” in his own mind, but his experiences as a relatively privileged person in Piltover and exposure to the violence done by Jinx imposes a lens of prejudice against Zaun as a whole, which leads him to group “all Zaunites” into one category without fully understanding why the undercity has this hatred for Piltover. Viktor, on the other hand, is also being pushed to the edge by his sickness and his frustration at not being able to take more meaningful steps to launch improvements for Zaun. This reaches a breaking point in his relationship with Jayce when he realizes that Jayce has become the one thing that Viktor, from his experiences as a poor kid from Zaun, has actively worked against: a reactionary willing to listen to a council of the rich and weaponize tech to hurt the oppressed. Both are being wound up by stressors to do stupid things and cause destruction where they least want it, and their methods are neither completely wrong nor right (though I do feel that Jayce has more of the responsibility for the consequences of his actions given his position of political power).

And Act 3 delivers on that. Jayce realizes, after accidentally shooting a kid with the Mercury Hammer, that it wasn’t the existence of the hammer itself that “weaponized” Hextech, but his own choice to act like a toxic “macho” anime protagonist and use police violence against a factory of poor and mostly child labourers. Vi also makes a great point in that for someone like her, this kind of scene is common - enforcers and the undercity’s toxic gasses are killing children every day, but people like Jayce never had to see the violence. So whatever attention is directed to Jayce’s emotional response to the child’s death is redirected to feeling for the people of Zaun; the scene essentially reminds us that Jayce’s feelings of guilt should not be the main focus of this kind of tragedy, because it erases the suffering of the victims. Rather, this should be a moment for learning and taking accountability. Jayce’s moment of development is thus well-balanced, because his personal guilt (still as a privileged man with power) doesn’t overshadow the violence that has been done to the people. 

Similarly, Viktor comes to realize that he has lost a part of his ideology of protecting and helping others by obsessing over the Hexcore. Again, I don’t think it’s inherently wrong to want to continue to live and cure yourself of a wasting disease—and the way Viktor cries out in both anger and relief after being able to run is something I will never be able to get out of my head—but in the Hexcore’s case, it’s coming at the expense of other people. Honestly Sky is such a sweetheart (and her adorable crush on Viktor is what 100% of the fanbase would experience if we ever got the opportunity to be in proximity to this man), and I understood her death not just as “Viktor losing an opportunity for romantic human connection,” but also as “Viktor realizes that even if he is tormented mentally and physically by his own death, seeing an innocent person die, even accidentally, as a result of his desire to live goes against everything he has worked for as a scientist, a human being, and a child of Zaun.” His desire has always been to help others, and I don’t think this ideology makes him a martyr; the opposite is true—he is an active, empathetic person who wants to work to improve and preserve life, because he knows he cannot control the failings of his own health. And to take away life and autonomy from others or put their bodies through that kind of pain and fear of death is the antithesis to his moral values. So when he reads Sky’s notes and cries in grief, we’re seeing the response of a man who realizes he did something that took away from the humanity he would otherwise die to protect.

And I think it’s so important that Jayce reciprocates the act of saving Viktor from suicide (beyond just the shipping aspect), because both of them realize in this moment that they have responsibilities on their shoulders, that they are still accountable for their actions, and that they still need to live and face those mistakes in order to fix and prevent them. When Viktor says that “in pursuit of the great, we forgot to do good,” and Jayce agrees instead of trying to justify or downplay the destructiveness of his actions, it shows an amazing level of maturity. These two are still good in their hearts, and they don’t see people as means to an end. They made stupid choices, but they realize that the choices were still theirs (which is exactly what I needed to see from the series to address the lack of agency that Viktor had in Act 2), and they will continue to live and work in order to correct those choices and meaningfully live out their ideologies. 

And it is even more tragic knowing that Jinx, someone who was so badly hurt by the systemic exploitation of both Piltover and Zaun, and the trauma of her upbringing, made a horribly destructive choice that will inevitably drive people like Jayce and Viktor apart and into more reactionary states of mind, thus leading them to make bad choices that, this time, may not be resolved with a unified turn towards humanity. 

[dreamofbecoming]

pale shadows of forgotten names

so people seem to be enjoying my writing lately, and i realized i never properly posted my first witcher fic on here when i first wrote it- i posted a link to the ao3, but i wasn’t super active in the fandom yet and i didn’t make it readable on tumblr. so i thought i would share it here now, in case anyone is interested, and because it’s nice to have all my writing together in my tag on here

pls note i knew even less about the non-netflix canon then than i do now, so everything about spying is just made up lmao

ao3

geraskier, post-s2, getting together

rating: t

wc: 13k

“Might be best if I stay out of Redania for a while, actually.”

“If you get arrested, I’ll just break you out again. There’s a book there I need, the copy in Kaer Morhen’s library was destroyed. Vesemir said he knew someone in Oxenfurt who might be able to get his hands on one.” Geralt’s tone, as usual, leaves very little room for argument. Luckily, Jaskier has never needed much room when it comes to arguing. Certainly not with Geralt.

“It’s not just that, I really shouldn’t get close to Tretogor anytime soon, either. Especially with Ciri being hunted by half the Continent.” He’s hoping desperately that they won’t ask why, but who is he kidding. His luck is never that good.

“And why, exactly, is Tretogor a problem? Not that we would want to parade around a capital city regardless, but I’m curious. Oxenfurt I get, they’ll be looking for the Sandpiper, I’m sure, or at least the twit that broke out of their jail, but what’s in Tretogor?”

Damn the fucking witch, always too perceptive for her own good. And to think he was almost starting to like her. Well, at least the familiarity of wanting to claw her eyes out is comforting.

Jaskier sighs. He should probably be honest with them if they’re going to travel together, though who knows how long that state of affairs will last this time. Still, he’s not going to risk Ciri. He’d have kept his silence if it were just Geralt and the witch- he already has, in fact, and it worked for nearly 20 years, after all- but Ciri is precious cargo. The rules have changed.

Plus, Yen could probably just read his mind now that she has her magic back. Fucking sorceresses.

Speaking of, “Alright, but not here,” he sighs. “Wait until we make camp and Yen can set up wards or silencing spells or something.” He hasn’t noticed any white owls following them, but she’s always been good at avoiding being seen. That’s sort of the point, he supposes.

“Who do we need wards from, Jaskier? Are you being followed? Should I have left you behind? Did I put Ciri in danger by trusting you?” Geralt’s voice is hard, and Jaskier feels hurt pool in his belly for a moment before cold anger takes its place again.

“Considering I just traipsed halfway across the continent and back, no questions asked, and nearly died trying to help stop a fucking demon from killing her, what the fuck do you think, Geralt? I’ll remind you that only one of us has known and loved her since she was small. Do you really believe I would do that to her? To you?” And maybe that last bit wasn’t really meant to come out, certainly not in that small, sad little voice, but Jaskier is nothing if not a master of pushing through slip ups and missed lines. He’s a goddamn professional. He doesn’t let his expression change where he’s glaring up at Geralt’s stupid, angry, handsome face. Fucker.

He’s traveled with Geralt a long time. Almost a quarter century, on and off (including this last year, which was most decidedly off), more than half of that physically by his side. He knows the Witcher’s face better than he knows his own, and he can predict Geralt’s reaction in almost any scenario you care to name. A perceived threat met with scorn will make him double down on his anger, almost guaranteed. Jaskier knew this going in, but he didn’t spend half a year belting his rage and betrayal to every student and passing traveler in a hundred miles (not to even mention the whole ‘living through a massacre’ thing) to be cowed by Geralt’s glower now, no matter how distressingly sexy it may or may not still be. Or how it maybe still makes his stomach twist with something sick and anxious at the idea of having disappointed him. Again. Fuck that. Geralt has no right to be disappointed in him, not this time.

So naturally he’s a little shocked when, after a few more seconds of unreasonably attractive scowling, Geralt, improbably, backs down.

He heaves a sigh where’s he’s perched on (new) Roach, a sleeping Ciri safely ensconced in his arms on the saddle in front of him. His eyes fall shut for a moment, and when they open, the cold fury is gone, replaced with something that looks a lot like…regret? Sadness? It’s hard to tell in the dark, but regardless, the air of melancholy around him right now is out of character for this particular situation, and extremely disconcerting. Jaskier is definitely disconcerted.

“You’re right. I’m sorry, Jaskier. I do trust you. There’s a cave not far from here, it shouldn’t be too hard to secure. We can make camp soon.”

Was that…an apology? An actual, genuine expression of remorse, unprompted and freely given? He pokes Geralt’s upsettingly firm calf, staring incredulously.

“Are you really Geralt? Do I need to check you with silver or something? Yen, read his mind. Is he some kind of Doppler? Is this actually our Witcher?”

Geralt’s face is flatly unamused, and he kicks out to swat Jaskier’s hand away. Luckily, Jaskier has decades of practice avoiding Witcher speed for annoyance purposes, and pulls his hand back before Geralt can accidentally break his fingers or something. At least, he thinks it would be accidental. Probably.

Atop her borrowed mare, curtesy of Kaer Morhen’s surprisingly impressive herd, Yen raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at Geralt’s obvious irritation. “It’s a fair question, Geralt. Immediate, unsolicited apologies for bad behavior are not exactly your brand.” Jaskier is grudgingly impressed that she manages to keep the arch look on her face despite his current frigid distance from her. Apparently they’re not back to mutual teasing levels of familiarity yet, though he’s sure it will only be a matter of time before they’re back to forgetting he’s there mid-sentence to go fuck like stupidly attractive, scary, powerful rabbits. Won’t that be fun to live through again.

Geralt glares harder. Jaskier can’t actually see his face well enough to be sure, but he can always feel when Geralt is glaring, and the angry face quotient in the air definitely goes up a few degrees.

“Cave’s just up here. Jaskier, start setting up camp. Yen, wards. I’ll get Ciri and the horses settled and find something for supper.” He nudges Roach’s flanks and pulls ahead, aiming for a little gap in the trees near a rocky outcropping Jaskier can just barely make out in the scant moonlight. Conversation over then, at least for now.

Yen looks vaguely affronted. “Is it always like this? Traveling with him?”

“What, the glowering? Or the barked orders and being left behind?” If perhaps those words are a touch more bitter than they would have been a year and a half ago, well. That’s no one’s business but his own.

“Both, I suppose? The time I’ve spent with him has rarely been on the road, but he’s never been quite so…demanding. We didn’t exactly do much talking on the way to Kaer Morhen. I’m quite sure he would happily have killed me, or at least have been actively trying to shake me and leave me in the dust, if he hadn’t been so focused on getting to Ciri as quickly as possible.” There’s something brittle and harsh in her tone that feels uncomfortably familiar. It’s far too much like the heavy weight in his ribcage these days, sharp-edged and desperate and miserable.

“If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands!” The hurt and dread freezing his blood in his veins, ice cold and inexorable. The awful silence, waiting for him to take it back, to laugh, to say it was all a horrible joke, or even a dream. The yawning pit of heartbreak and despair that started to rend his chest open, as the reality set in that this was actually it, actually the end, after everything-

Nope. No. Absolutely not. He is done with that, thank you. He is quite finished reliving that moment again and again (and again), he has put it behind him, he is a different man now. A stronger man. A man who won’t betray the loyalty he promised so long ago, but who refuses to let his heart back into the mix this time. He wrote a song about it and everything.

Funny how he almost believes it.

“Oh, I’m sure he was always far more…solicitous with you, darling. This is pretty much standard. The apology is new, and I’m a little surprised he’s letting me set up camp unsupervised,” (this is said with an impressively deep eye-roll, of course), “but besides that, yeah.”

He should be offended that he’s surprised to be given that responsibility, probably. He’s actually a remarkably competent traveler, both with company and without, but even towards the end it rarely occurred to Geralt that Jaskier managed to survive by himself for months or years at a time, or that the camp ended up much the same as it started even when he felt the need to redo all of Jaskier’s work, or that he wasn’t the one cooking the food he hunted or patching his own wounds when Jaskier was around. Not even the handful of times their camp was targeted by bandits, and several of them were already dead by the time Geralt got to them, seemed to register. Or all the times he came back addled and injured from a hunt, and Jaskier knew exactly which potions he needed to recover, and where to find them. Jaskier isn’t sure the great White Wolf ever even noticed a difference. He’s once again a little amazed that it took him so long to see it, that those furious words on the mountaintop actually managed to catch him by surprise. Love really is blind, he supposes.

The cave isn’t huge, but there’s enough room for four bedrolls and a small fire pit without having to snuggle up too close to each other, and it’s dry and lacking in horrid smells or angry monsters, so Jaskier has definitely seen worse.

Roach is tied near the cave entrance, under a small overhang jutting out from the rock to provide her some shelter from the elements. He wants to ask what happened to the old Roach, his- well. Not his Roach anymore, he supposes, not for a while, but he was still fond of her. It had taken years to win her over, but they were good friends by the end, he thought. Certainly she was freer with her affection than her rider. (Which, he realizes now, probably had more to do with his dearth of affection actually available than with his crushing emotional incompetence.) It isn’t really his place to ask, not anymore, but he wishes he could. New Roach is fine, she’s admittedly beautiful and probably a lovely animal, but he misses his friend.

Jaskier has the camp fully set up and a small fire going, near enough to the entrance not to fill the cave with smoke, but far enough inside so as not to be easily seen, and Yen has left her mount next to Roach, filled their waterskins, and is finishing up with the last of the wards shielding them from being found or overheard, when Geralt returns bearing…an entire deer. Fucking overachieving cockhead. He’s cleaning that shit himself, Jaskier isn’t interested. It definitely isn’t sexy seeing Geralt stride in, slightly blood-spattered, biceps bulging, thighs flexing, evidence of his prowess slung easily over his shoulders like a king’s mantle…nope. Not sexy at all. Jaskier isn’t even looking. He certainly isn’t biting back an embarrassing whimper.

He turns around hastily to begin rummaging through his pack for his spices and cooking supplies, filched from Kaer Morhen, of course, since all he had on him when Geralt found him in Oxenfurt was his charm and good looks. He wishes he had his lute, but it’s probably in pieces, rotting in a rubbish heap in Redania. He’ll mourn her at some point. Besides, he’s not sure he would be able to stop himself playing Burn, Butcher, Burn just on reflex, so it’s probably for the best.

They eat a decent supper of venison stew, Ciri waking just long enough to scarf down a bowl and collapse back onto her bedroll. Demon possession and Sphere-jumping really seem to take it out of a person.

Yen tosses another silencing charm around Ciri’s bedroll (they’ll fill her in tomorrow- they don’t intend to keep secrets from her but she deserves her sleep) and Geralt gets to work packing the leftover venison in salt for the road, before they both look up at him expectantly with eerily similar, piercing gazes. Violet and gold, a royal combination if ever there was one. Oh, that’s nice actually, there’s a song in there somewhere. Not one he wants to sing, really, but he’ll probably end up writing it at some point anyway.

“Alright, sharing time, I guess. Always figured this was coming eventually. Not that I imagined anything like this, what with the demons and the horrible rock monsters and the dimension hopping and- yes, yes, alright, I’m getting to it. Calm down.” He heaves a sigh. Hopefully they don’t toss him out on his arse after this, or just kill him. He doesn’t think they’d kill him. Would they? No, they wouldn’t. Probably.

“So you know I’m technically Redanian.” Yennefer nods expectantly while Geralt just. Blinks at him. Fucking gods, honestly. “Wow, ok, you really never paid attention at all when I talked, huh? That makes sense, actually. I guess I should have figured that.” He’s staring into the fire to shield the hurt in his eyes, so he misses the matching look on Geralt’s face before he presses on.

“Anyway, yeah, I’m Redanian, from Kerack, Lettenhove to be specific. Seriously? I’ve introduced myself to a dozen people in front of you with my full name, you really never- ok, yeah, right, never mind. Moving on. Julian Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove. That’s me. Or, it was. Technically it still is, but I never wanted the title. I never wanted that life. I left for Oxenfurt as soon as I was old enough, and when I graduated I went on the road, and then. Well. Then I met you, and, well, you know. You were there. For the rest. Some of it, anyway. Right. Well, Vizimir, or more likely someone on his council, since Vizimir is about as savvy and creative as a garden slug, and almost as charming, and I’m not sure if Dijkstra was advising him at that point-“ He catches Yennefer’s sharp look at Dijkstra’s name, but barrels on, “-anyway, someone noticed that a minor Redanian noble was doing a lot of very visible traveling all over the Continent and associating with a lot of people the Crown wouldn’t normally have an in with, and figured that would be useful. I think at this point, we’d been traveling together…2? 3 years? Something like that. Long enough that I’d started building a name for myself, definitely. Or, for us, I suppose. That’s why they noticed me in the first place.”

He knows he’s babbling, but there are nerves roiling in his gut like a cauldron, and that feeling has always translated into more words, for him. Like a pressure valve. He pauses and risks a glance at the person whose reaction he’s genuinely worried about.

Yen will understand, she’s been in and out of courts and noble circles and political tangles for decades, she knows how this works. She probably won’t trust him, but he’s fairly sure she doesn’t trust him now, so that’s no great loss. He doesn’t trust her either.

Geralt has a more…rigid concept of morality. In Geralt’s world, there are Right Things and Wrong Things. Sometimes you have to do Wrong Things to prevent Wronger Things, but that doesn’t make them not Wrong. And anything to do with kings and courts is usually Wrong. There’s a good chance Geralt might never forgive him for this, or if he does, he won’t be able to look past Jaskier keeping it from him so long.

Geralt’s eyes are fixed on his face, sharp and intent, and utterly unreadable. Jaskier thought he had gotten pretty good over the years at reading the subtle shifts in Geralt’s expressions- the tiny crinkles around his eyes when he wanted to laugh, the minute furrow between his brows when he was confused, the slight tick in his jaw when he was frustrated- but his face is as blank as new parchment right now, nothing but the glint in his golden eyes that says he’s listening to every word out of Jaskier’s mouth.

What a time for him to start doing that, he thinks bitterly. Decades of tuning him out when he thought they were friends, and now that Jaskier might be driving him away for good (again, a tiny voice whispers viciously), he’s hanging on every syllable.

“I was approached by a member of the royal intelligence service, and told that the king had ordered that I be recruited as a spy. Technically I am still nobility, and as such I’m obligated to obey the crown. And while I would gladly give up all the trappings of my title and never be anyone but Jaskier the bard ever again, at the time there would have been serious consequences for refusing, and not the kind that would fall on me. I’m technically a Lord, and I do have people I’m responsible for. I left people in charge that I trust to take care of them in my stead, but it’s my name they’re working under. And if I refused a direct order from Vizimir, I wouldn’t be the one to suffer for it. It wasn’t an option.”

He doesn’t look up from the fire. He doesn’t want to see the expressions on their faces, so he presses on, heart thumping wildly in his chest.

“I did my best to keep my reports…not vague, exactly, but mostly useless, I guess? Obviously I have no interest in being a part of whatever bullshit Vizimir or any other king feels like stirring up, but I had to send them something. Little stuff, mostly, frivolous gossip from the taverns I played in, details of drama and rivalries I picked up in various courts or nobles’ beds. Sometimes accounts of monster populations or incidents if there was anything especially notable, since they knew that’s a lot of what I was doing with my time. Nothing actionable, but useful enough that I couldn’t be accused of shirking my duties.” He’s suddenly struck with an awful fear, and he looks up desperately into slitted golden eyes. “I never said a word about Ciri, Geralt, you have to believe me. I told them about that night, and I had to mention that Pavetta had magic because there’s no way that wouldn’t get out some other way, but I never said a word about a Witcher claiming a Child Surprise. I would never risk her like that, or you, you have to believe me. Please say you believe me Geralt, whatever you think of me, that I would never betray you like that. Please.”

He knows he sounds frantic, that he must look insane, that he can’t stop his begging mouth like a runaway cart, but the thought of Geralt thinking even for a second that Jaskier would ever put orders from a king he cared nothing for over Geralt’s own life, over the life of a child, is a knife in his gut, twisting and pulling until Jaskier thinks he might vomit if Geralt doesn’t say something.

The blank expression is gone, and Geralt looks somewhat taken aback. His brow furrows a little in what looks like confusion, before settling into resignation, or maybe chagrin. Jaskier thinks for a moment that he sees a brief flash of what almost looks like…grief? That can’t be right…in his eyes, but it’s gone as soon as it appeared, and Jaskier thinks he must have imagined it.

Geralt takes a swig from his waterskin and draws in a deep breath before speaking.

“I wasn’t worried that you betrayed Ciri, Jaskier. I know you would cut off your own arm before you did something like that. I don’t love where it sounds like this story is going, but I promise, I’ll never be concerned about that.”

That’s…well, those are more words than he was expecting, surely. And different words than he was expecting, too. He would assume that Geralt is placating him, to calm him down and get him to finish talking, but he can hear the sincerity in his voice. Geralt’s eyes are almost imploring, as if he’s as anxious for Jaskier to believe him as Jaskier had been to be believed. He…isn’t sure what to do with that, actually.

He knows Geralt came back for him, knows he was at least not lying when he said he missed him (though how much is anyone’s guess), knows he trusts him to travel with his…his little family, to help keep them safe or at least not make things worse, but he never assumed it went beyond that.

Geralt was clear, on that mountain. Even if he’s sorry now, even if he missed having him around, he meant those words at the time, and Jaskier has no illusions that he won’t get to that point again. Geralt may have spat those words in helpless anger, may have turned his ire on someone who had nothing to do with the state he was in at that moment, but Geralt doesn’t say things he doesn’t mean. He says plenty of things he regrets, but he always means them at the time. He did, at one point, believe Jaskier to be a curse and a burden, and Jaskier is fully aware that he will come to that belief again, eventually.

He knows what that particular heartbreak feels like, now. He knows he can survive it, even if he wishes he wouldn’t, sometimes. Mostly, he knows that it will always, always be worth it. Geralt will always be worth it.

Gods but he’s a lovesick fool.

But now, instead of cold distain, or fiery wrath, or, worst of all, blank indifference, Geralt is looking at him like…like he’s sorry. Like he’s desperate for Jaskier’s forgiveness. Forgiveness for what? Jaskier is the one who hid the fact that he was a spy for most of their relatio- friendship. Acquaintanceship. Association. Whichever one wouldn’t piss Geralt off. Geralt hasn’t fucked up here, this time at least.

But he could never resist when Geralt asked him like this for anything, with genuine emotion instead grunted contempt, with even the vaguest hint of affection, like maybe Geralt enjoyed spending time with Jaskier, too. Like maybe Jaskier mattered to Geralt, at least a fraction of how much Geralt mattered to Jaskier. Gods above, he’s so weak for this man.

“Ok. Alright, good. That’s good. I’m glad. Thank you. I know I- anyway. Thank you. Right, where was I? Yes, ok, reports. So I kept myself mostly useless for pretty much the whole time we were together. I mean- not. Not together, obviously, but traveling together. As friends. Or not friends. Whatever. What was I saying?” He’s spiraling, fuck, he’s spiraling, he needs to get out of this, how does he get out of this?

Geralt is looking even more confused than before, but Yennefer is definitely laughing at him in her head. Witch. Like she isn’t just as much of a mess for him. She should be on his side! They bonded over this already and everything!

At least the indignation is enough for him to pull out of the whirlpool of awkward babble and self-sabotage he was trapped in, and he manages to right himself.

“Anyway! Ok! So! Right, well, things changed not quite a year ago, now, after the raid on Bleobheris.” He sobers at the memories, the scent of blood and the sound of screams suddenly heavy in the dry air of the cave. “It was…brutal. I’ve never seen anything like that, not in all my years Witchering with you. I wanted to help. I needed to do something, to…fix something. Anything, no matter how small. That’s when I was contacted by an anonymous benefactor, who offered to fund an effort to smuggle refugees to Xin’Trea. Word had spread about Nilfgaard’s alliance with the elves, that they could be safe there.”

“So the Sandpiper was born,” Yennefer says.

“Right. But I don’t like not knowing where my help is coming from and why. I may not have been a very useful spy in Redania’s eyes for the last 20 years, but it actually takes quite a bit of effort to be ineffective without being useless enough to fire or kill, and as it turns out, I’m actually quite good at it. Call it the performer’s heart in me, or something. So I was able to ferret out that the man behind the money was Sigismund Dijkstra, who had managed to get himself appointed spymaster to Vizimir, which, interestingly, made him my employer, as well as my benefactor.”

Yen looks up sharply again at Dijkstra’s name. Jaskier turns to her, curious.

“You’re familiar, I assume?”

“He’s been causing rifts at Aretuza, riling up the Brotherhood,” she says, brow furrowed. “Pretending to bring counsel and information but really just sowing discord. I’m not clear on the details, but I know elves were mentioned. There are those on the council who take issue with my heritage, so I try to keep on top of the rumors. I wasn’t at Aretuza for long, though, and I…didn’t exactly leave on good terms. I haven’t got many friends left there.” Geralt glances at her sympathetically.

Jaskier nods. “That sounds like him. I wouldn’t trust that man to clean my privy, much less provide thousands of crowns, probably from Vizimir’s coffers, for a worthy cause with no expectations of repayment.” He shakes his head. “I kept my suspicions to myself, though, the network needed the coin and regardless of his motivations, we really were helping people. I wasn’t going to let that go to waste.

“I guess, with me finally settling in one place for so long, and probably Dijkstra feeling like I owed him for the funding, even though I wasn’t meant to know it was him, they started expecting more from me, in terms of intelligence. I didn’t really have a choice, since now they always knew where to find me if they wanted to cause me problems, and besides, Dijkstra was already privy to the network’s efforts anyway as the main benefactor, so I figured it was mostly alright that I’ve had to give more…comprehensive reports to Vizimir the last several months.

“Since Cintra fell, most people know about Ciri, or at least that she’s on the game-board somehow. There are rumors of Nilfgaard searching for a Witcher, so I’m sure some people have put together that you’re involved somehow, but I don’t think too many of the courts, at least, have details. Just that Nilfgaard wants her and maybe there’s a Witcher involved. I made sure not to include too much information that they didn’t already have, but I can’t say for sure what every Northern king knows, or what the Brotherhood knows.” He glances at Yen, who shakes her head and shrugs.

“Anyway, so that’s the meat of it. The concern is that since I became an actual useful asset for them, they’ve been keeping a much closer eye on me. That’s why I was worried about the wards.”

“Alright, I can understand all of that,” Geralt cuts in. “I don’t like that you kept it from me, but I can’t fault your choices. You’re right that we can’t have them sniffing around you, not with Ciri in your orbit.” He frowns. “Would it be possible for you just…fall off the map? Disappear? Redania can’t demand anything from a missing viscount.”

Jaskier winces a little. “I would love to do that, the problem being that Dijkstra works closely with Tretogor’s court mage, who has the charming little talent of transforming into a bird whenever she wants.”

Yen’s eyebrows both go up this time. “Phillipa? She’s quite impressive. A little too entrenched in political intrigue for my taste, but I can’t deny she’s talented. Tissaia speaks very highly of her, certainly.”

She looks thoughtful as she gazes at him over the fire. “You’re worried she’s following you, then? For information on Geralt, since everyone knows Jaskier the Bard is the man to talk to if you want to know about Witchers.”

Her tone is…teasing? Is she teasing him? First hugging, and now teasing? Yeah, he’s not dealing with that right now. He sticks out his tongue at her (he does still have a bantering streak to uphold, after all) before nodding.

“I don’t know for sure  if she was in Oxenfurt when Geralt broke me out. I don’t think so, but I certainly wasn’t combing every tree for owls, and there’s no chance of me noticing her out here in the woods. I’m just hoping that if she were around now, you’d sense her, Yen, and that she wasn’t able to bring back anything about Ciri or Geralt or Kaer Morhen to Dijkstra. Or you, either, since the Brotherhood are so unhappy with you.”

Yen looks surprised and very slightly pleased to be included in Jaskier’s concern. Or at least Jaskier thinks that’s the expression he can parse under her normal very scary murder face, which he finds is almost a relief to see. The soft regret and concern of recent weeks has been…unsettling. The sun rises, the rain falls, Yennefer of Vengerberg is gorgeous, aloof, and terrifying. This is the natural order.

Geralt is wearing a pensive expression, frowning slightly at where Ciri lies, sleeping peacefully. Dear girl, Jaskier hopes she isn’t having any nightmares. She’s been through hell lately, and she’s always had trouble sleeping anyway. Jaskier wonders if he can find the name of that tea Mousesack used to give her to help her sleep. Jaskier even tried it once or twice, when winter nights in Cintra without his Witcher’s soft, even breaths became too much; the stuff worked wonders.

“Alright,” he says eventually, nodding. “I’ll see if I can go to Redania myself, and leave you two with Ciri until I can get back. We’ll keep our campsites warded if we can, Yen, I don’t want you to wear yourself out, but some protection would probably be best. Are you able to see if you can sense anyone from here, or do you need to go outside the wards?”

“I’ll do a lap around the area, but there’s a chance anyone who is out there will sense me as soon as I start casting about. It would be best if you all stayed here, to protect Ciri in case someone actually has come for her.”

“I don’t like any of us going out alone, Yen, especially with the express intention of seeking out danger. I should go with you.” Geralt makes to stand and grab his swords from beside his seat, but Yennefer waves him back down.

“You’d only distract me, and besides, do you want to leave the totally untrained sorceress and the normal human alone here?” Jaskier makes an affronted squawking noise.

“Hey! I’m plenty competent, thank you!” He prudently ignores the minor inaccuracy of his humanity, and instead huffs at the matching incredulous looks he receives. “Rude. Honestly, I get no respect around here. I survived just fine on my own for years, you know! Besides, I traveled with a reckless idiot Witcher for 20 years, you pick up more than you’d think.” He glares at them both until Yen smirks and Geralt looks baffled and vaguely offended, but at least they both look away, which is an improvement.

Until the two of them end up in a stare off, clearly having some sort of emphatic conversation with their eyes alone, and Jaskier has to turn away to start putting away the cooking supplies they won’t need for breakfast tomorrow. He’s warming up to Yennefer, much to his chagrin, but he’s had quite enough of watching the man he loves eyefuck someone else, for this lifetime and the next, thanks ever so.

He hears Geralt huff, a sound he recognizes as him realizing whoever he’s arguing with is just going to do as they please anyway, and he might as well make the best of it.

He made that sound at Jaskier a lot. Usually when he talked his way into coming along on hunts, but really any time Jaskier wanted something from him beyond some seared rabbit, a fire to sleep beside, and monosyllabic grunts in response to questions (if he was lucky)- a night at an inn, a stop at a local festival, an actual hot bath with herbs and flowers and scented oils. Arms to hold him on especially cold nights, when blankets weren’t enough to warm (mostly) human skin.

Jaskier used to think it was cute. A game, just for the two of them, Jaskier pushing, Geralt pulling, or the other way around, always meeting in the middle (or, more often, closer to Jaskier’s side) with what Jaskier had always assumed was mutual amusement and affection. He knows better now.

There’s the telltale swish of Yennefer’s skirts, a strange popping sensation in his ears, and then the feeling of the wards coming back up behind her.

The silencing spell around Ciri is still up, as far as he knows, and she’s dead to the world besides, so it’s just him and Geralt now.

It isn’t the first time they’ve been alone since Oxenfurt, but it is the first time since Jaskier was invited (by Ciri, it should be noted, not Geralt) to travel with them as a companion, not as backup.

That one still stings, if he’s honest. He held out hope for months that Geralt would come back for him, would seek him out with a stuttered apology (or more likely a silently offered ale and an invitation to come with him to his next hunt).  Maybe at a tavern, or the Seat of Friendship, or even a ball or musical competition where Jaskier was playing. He knows how much Geralt hates getting dressed up, how much it would have meant for him to go to that effort just to see Jaskier.

He imagined seeing him sitting silently in the back of one of his lectures one day, watching the lesson with quiet affection and waiting for him to be finished so they could talk. Imagined hearing the sound of Roach’s hooves coming up behind him on some backroad to nowhere while he strummed his lute in the sunshine.

He imagined a thousand different reunions, a thousand apologies, a thousand ways for them to turn back the clock. (During some of the longer nights, when he was alone in his rooms staring out at the moon through the window, wondering if Geralt was lying on his bedroll in a forest clearing somewhere staring up at the same moon, he imagined a thousand different love confessions. But he has no intention of admitting that to anyone but his own foolish heart. He may be a bard, and a hopeless romantic, but there’s no need to bare all of his weeping wounds, especially when there’s no hope of healing them.)

For all his daydreaming, he never imagined that Geralt would seek him out only when he needed an extra set of hands and all his other options were exhausted. Never imagined he would be not just a tool to be used, but the last resort as well.

He shouldn’t be surprised, after everything, but the knowledge that he was never really anything else to Geralt still aches like a broken rib, flashes of pain shooting through his chest with every inhale.

This is the first time they’ve been alone together without an immediate crisis, without a clearly defined mission beyond the open road, just like it used to be.

Except nothing like it used to be, because how it used to be is gone. It will never be that way again. Geralt burned those memories down, with words as sharp as swords and as destructive as dragon fire.

Jaskier has no fucking idea how to deal with this.

“Jas-“ Geralt cuts off and clears his throat. Jaskier can hear him gulping from his waterskin before trying again. “Jaskier.”

“Yes?” He tries to keep his voice light, but he doesn’t turn around.

“Jaskier, can we. Can we talk? Please?”

It’s the ‘please’ that does it. Geralt so rarely says please. Jaskier may need more than his fingers to count the times he’s heard it directed at him, but he can still remember each one in perfect clarity. Besides, they had more than 20 years together, “more than 10” is still not exactly a stellar ratio.

Jaskier’s resolve breaks (did he ever really have any? Has he ever had any when it comes to this man?) and he turns, schooling his face into something meant to look bright and open. He’s not sure how well it works. “Of course, Geralt. What’s on your mind?”

“I-“ Geralt looks…lost. He looks like he has absolutely no idea how to get where he’s going, and it’s killing him. Jaskier crumbles.

“You’ve already apologized, Geralt, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’ve forgiven you. You were angry, you needed a target, I was there. It’s behind us.” He looks at the fire, for lack of anything else that isn’t Geralt’s stupid awful gorgeous face, wishing desperately he had his lute. He never felt awkward with his lute. Never rubbed anxious circles around his calluses for lack of anything to do with his hands. Never sat in a silence so painful he wondered if his ears would bleed.

Geralt lets out a breath like he’s trying to remember how. “That’s not. I mean it is. But. I. Fuck.” Jaskier looks up from the fire to see him scrubbing a hand through his hair in an uncharacteristic display of emotion. The adorable fool manages to get his hand tangled in the locks when he forgets about the band holding half of it back from his face.

“Oh for Melitele’s sake- stop moving, you lug, I’ll fix it. You’re going to tear it out in chunks if you keep pulling like that, just hold still, or I’ll have to rewrite all the songs to be about The Bald Wolf instead. Ye gods, Geralt, how did you survive without me? Honestly.” He’s across the cave and kneeling behind Geralt on the other side of the fire before he consciously registers the decision to move. Fucking hells, even his own body is against him.

He has his hands in Geralt’s (soft, silky, gorgeous) hair, untangling it gently from where it’s wound itself tightly around his (scarred, strong, beautiful) fingers. He thinks he hears Geralt’s breath catch, but he’s too distracted trying to keep his own lungs working at all to focus on it.

Once Geralt’s hand is free (and does Geralt seem as reluctant to let go and put his hand back in his lap as Jaskier is to let him?) Jaskier sets to work on the much more finicky task of removing the band without pulling half of Geralt’s hair out with it, which would honestly be a crime against…well, anyone with eyes really. Jaskier may be in love with him, but he’s also seen a truly exorbitant number of beautiful people across the continent, many of them naked, so he thinks he’s fairly qualified when he says that Geralt is one of the most singularly stunning people on the face of the earth, bias or not. Especially now that he seems to be taking better care of his hair than he used to when Jaskier wasn’t around.

Jaskier is actually rather shocked at how well-kept Geralt is. His hair is smooth and soft and clean, and smells like…is that apple blossom? That’s one of Jaskier’s favorite scents. It never fails to make him feel light and warm, like spring sunshine. He uses it in his own hair more often than the other oils he carries.

Back when washing Geralt’s hair for him was an occasional but deeply treasured privilege of his, Jaskier used to use it for him, as well. That Geralt has somehow, for some reason, gotten some of his own to use during their separation…it makes something warm and fragile stir in Jaskier’s chest. Warm and fragile and dangerous. Hope is easily crushed, and when it is, it takes everything else down with it. Jaskier isn’t doing that again. Not so soon.

He finishes detaching the tie as efficiently as he can, and hands it over Geralt’s shoulder before sitting back on his heels and exhaling violently.

“There you are darling, all fixed. Now,-“

“I didn’t.” Geralt interrupts him, whisper quiet but still somehow deafening over the crackling fire.

“What?”

“Survive without you. I didn’t. Or, I guess I should say I did, but that’s all I did.”

Jaskier has, for once, absolutely no idea what to say, so he tries something new, and says nothing. He’s barely even sure he’s breathing, staring at the back of Geralt’s head and all his moonlit hair like he’s staring into the jaws of a barghest as he waits to see if he will continue.

He does, words falling out of him in a rush like a river pouring through a broken dam, desperate in a way Jaskier has never heard him before.

“I knew I’d fucked up, on the mountain. As soon as the words were out of my mouth I knew it. It’s like. It’s like I was a bottle of juice, gone off, going ranker and ranker until the cork flies right out and takes someone’s eye out. I thought I was angry at Borch, at Yen, at Calanthe, at fucking Destiny, at everything. Even you, who hadn’t done one thing wrong. But really it was just me. I was just angry at myself, and there’s. There’s not. There isn’t anywhere for that kind of anger to go. It just builds up and up and up until it explodes, and you with it, and I knew I was going to let it out at someone. And then you were there, and you were trying to help. Like always. You always help. You make everything better, like you were just trying to make me feel better. But I was so angry, and it was all my fault, it was all my stupid selfish choices, the djinn, the wish, Ciri, all of it my fault, and I didn’t deserve to feel better. I didn’t deserve it and I had to make you stop and so. I did. I did it on purpose. I did it because I knew that was the thing to say that would hurt you the most. That would make me a monster like I know I am. Monsters are easy. Easier than mistakes and bad choices. So I made another bad choice and hurt someone else and decided to be a monster.”

There might be tears streaming down Jaskier’s face, but he can’t tell because he can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t hear anything but the rushing in his ears and Geralt’s voice ripping into him with savage, gentle claws.

“Once Yen was gone- It’s hard to think with her around, sometimes. It’s the wish, I think. Everything else gets duller, quieter, a little out of focus. Like in a dream when the only thing you can see clearly is the person you know the dream is about, the person you’re supposed to talk to.” Oh this…this is actually torture. Geralt might actually be killing him because he still can’t fucking breathe and he just keeps talking.

“It’s better now. Maybe it’s Ciri, my Destiny is split between them now so it’s not so overwhelming. Or maybe Ciri is her Destiny too, and now that we’ll always have her, the both of us, the wish doesn’t need to force us to be in love for us to stay nearby. I don’t know. It’s easier now, though. And even easier when you’re here.”

Wait, what? Now Jaskier knows he’s dead, or dying, or hallucinating, or something, because there’s no way that means what he wants it to mean.

“After Yen left, my head started to clear. Things came back into focus. I realized what I’d done, but suddenly I could also see that it wasn’t just what I yelled at you. It was so much more, so much deeper. I had been so awful to you, for so long, and you just. Took it. All of it. Everything I had, all my anger and my fear and my loneliness. You just let me. You always came back. You kept choosing me, even when I was cruel. I was ashamed, but I also thought…” He breaks off with a great shuddering breath, his head hanging.

Jaskier feels a little like he’s floating. Like he can see his body, kneeling there in the dirt behind Geralt, staring at his sculpted shoulderblades with a blind, devastated look on his tear-streaked face. How odd.

Geralt, somehow, impossibly, keeps going. This is more words than Jaskier has heard him say in the last two decades. This is more words than he knew Geralt was capable of saying. Where are all these words coming from?

It’s like all this time, he had been saving these. Stockpiling them, though for what Jaskier can’t begin to guess. A rainy day? An emergency? This? And now the doors of the granary have come loose and the winter stores are flooding the yard and Jaskier thinks he might end up buried alive.

“I thought you’d come back.” Geralt’s voice is thicker, somehow, and oh, gods, is he crying? “I thought you would come back, like before, like always, and it would be ok. And I would try to be better. I would try to be the man you thought I was. And it would be ok. But you-“ He cuts off with another great shuddering breath, and seems to center himself. “You didn’t come back. And that’s when I realized I had finally gone too far.”

Jaskier has been trying to process all of these many, many, many, mostly incomprehensible words, and he’s maybe fallen a little bit behind, because he hears himself cut in with an incredulous “Wait, are you saying that every time you were rude or dismissive to me, it wasn’t just because you don’t know how to conduct yourself in a normal friendship because you’ve never had one, but actually because you knew you were being cruel and you knew you could get away with it because I would always come back?”

Geralt’s head hangs even lower, and Jaskier has to strain to hear his gravelly whispered reply.

“Yes. Maybe not consciously, or in so many words, but yes.”

Jaskier flounders for a moment, wounds he spent the last year trying to close tearing back open even wider than before.

“All this time? You thought so little of me, all this time? I was just a- a- a practice dummy? Something that won’t fight back or feel pain, so you can hit it has hard or as many times as you want?” His voice began at a whisper, to match Geralt’s, but has gotten steadily louder and more tear-filled the more he speaks.

“No, that isn’t-“

“I can’t- I’m not- I need a moment. Please, Geralt I need- Please.” He can’t keep sitting this close to him, feeling his body heat just as warm as the fire he’s blocking Jaskier from, can’t keep listening to his low rumbling voice, like thunder and gravel and home, like a silver sword through the midsection. Not when the pain and the anger and the hope are all bleeding together and he doesn’t know how to feel them properly and he still can’t fucking breathe.

Geralt’s breath hitches, a tiny little wisp of sound, and Jaskier is going to fucking lose it.

“Please, Geralt.” It comes out in a broken whisper, which is more revealing than Jaskier was hoping, but it’s not like he’s managed to hide anything anyway, so it hardly matters.

Geralt nods, back still to Jaskier in front of the fire, and stands smoothly to walk over to a corner near the entrance, where he can see all four bedrolls and the cave mouth clearly. Ready to protect. Always ready to defend. He sinks to his knees and his breathing takes on the familiar cadence of meditation.

Jaskier takes a moment to look at him. At the way his hands are clutched a little tighter on his thighs than they normally would be while he mediates, like he hasn’t managed to purge all the fear from his body the way he has his mind. At the new scars he can see on his forearms and one snaking over his collarbone, scars that Jaskier wasn’t there to bandage and fuss over. At the way his hair spills over his shoulders, still tousled from Jaskier’s fingers. At the single tear track carving a path down one marble cheek.

Jaskier sucks in a breath and turns away before he breaks down and Yen comes back to find him catatonic on the ground.

He ends up standing at the mouth of the cave, stroking New Roach’s neck and petting his hands through her glossy mane gently. Her slow breathing and the familiar warm, earthy smell of horse help ground him, bring him back from that awful frantic-floating feeling, where he was nowhere and trapped all at once.

He chatters to her quietly, just like he did to her predecessor. She, at least, warms up to him much more quickly.

A warm, black nose thumps gently into his chest. “Yes, my love, I know I need to protect my heart. I’m trying! Can’t you see how hard I’m trying?” She nickers softly, more of a puff of breath than a proper sound.

“Well aren’t we feeling smug this evening, sweet thing.” Another thump. “It’s alright darling, I don’t blame you. I think I’m ridiculous, too. I just don’t know how to fix it.” He strokes a hand down her forehead, scritching lightly.

“No, me either. You know what the problem is, don’t you?” She lips at his hair, which he takes as an invitation to continue.

His voice is even quieter now, the barest thread of a whisper, quiet enough that even Geralt might not overhear if he comes out of meditation. “The problem is that I’ve spent all this time coming up with plans and strategies and contingencies for not giving my heart away again, when the truth is I don’t think I ever got it back in the first place.”

He rests his forehead against hers in defeat, tears falling silently again. He’s going to dehydrate at this point, but what does he care when he has a beautiful lady providing him such warm, solid comfort right here?

“I have to say, songbird, this is not what I expected to find when I came back tonight.”

Jaskier does not flail. He is a professional performer, he has immaculate control over his body at all times. And he definitely doesn’t squeak, no bard would ever be caught dead making such an undignified noise unintentionally.

So no, he neither flails nor squeaks, and if New Roach gets very slightly spooked and a lot disgruntled, it was from Yennefer sneaking up out of bloody nowhere like a wraith in the night, and certainly nothing Jaskier did. If either of them say different, they’re lying.

“Are you trying to give me a heart attack? Is this your plan to kill me and make it look like an accident? I’ll tell Ciri, she’ll come after you with her dagger, see if she doesn’t. Ciri likes me. Ciri would avenge me.” He’s  clutching his chest, heartbeat gradually beginning to slow.

New Roach is still giving him a dubious look. That’s rude, this is hardly his fault. It’s Yen she should be grumpy with.

“Well, I was rather hoping that by this point in the evening, you wouldn’t need a miniature Witcherling-sorceress to defend you, since you’d have your big strong Witcher back, but somehow things seem to have gotten worse in my absence. Did he not manage to tell you his real feelings? Bloody Witchers, trust him to be resistant to my recipe, it’s never bloody failed before, if he’s made this worse somehow I’m going to bloody dissect him to figure out where I went wrong-“ She continues muttering darkly while Jaskier stares at her in shock.

His mind is valiantly trying to shake off enough of the lingering fog of tears to pull some of those threads together and figure out what the fuck she’s talking about.

Recipe? Real feelings? Make what worse? Did she…did she dose him with something? Did she put a fucking spell on his Witcher? He might have to have Ciri stab her after all, since he has no illusions about his own abilities to take her in a fight.

“What the fuck are you talking about, witch? What did you give him? What the fuck did you do? I’ll kill you myself you vicious little shrew, see if I don’t!”

She waves a hand dismissively, scoffing at his threats. Admittedly he is not at his best, though in his defense it’s hard to adopt a proper fighting stance when you’ve just spent half an hour kneeling in the dirt while your still-beating heart was slowly diced into bite-sized pieces. Tough on the knees, you know.

“Please, you should be thanking me. It was fucking exhausting, these last few weeks, watching you two throw longing glances back and forth when you think no one’s looking. I’m just trying to help things along.”

“Help- what? What things? Help things along how?” He’s trying very hard to hold onto his righteous anger at her for (possibly?) drugging the man he loves, but she keeps saying things that dredge up that dangerous warm feeling from before, and he’s losing his resolve.

“Nothing sinister, songbird. I’m done with that, I’m on the side of the White Knights now, remember? Have a little faith in me, for Lilit’s sake.” She rolls her eyes, but either he’s getting better at reading her or she’s making an effort to be easier to read, because he can feel the sincerity in her words. “We both know all that nonsense about Witchers not feeling is horseshit, yes?” He nods. Obviously it is, Geralt feels more deeply than anyone he’s ever met. “But I know you also understand how much he struggles to make sense of what he’s feeling, or to make himself heard when he does.”

She’s right about that, too. Jaskier knows the emotions are there, has always known, since the moment he saw Geralt in that tavern in Posada. But he’s watched Geralt get lost in the tangle of feelings inside him so thoroughly that all the words get stuck and nothing comes out. He’s seen it happen hundreds of times. That’s part of why he’s always wanted to badly to sing about him, to tell the world what Geralt can’t, to be the words when he can’t find them.

Yen gestures to the corner where Geralt is still meditating peacefully. “I didn’t do anything to his feelings. Couldn’t if I tried, that’s not really how my magic works, anyway. But I knew there are things he’s been wanting to say, and he’s been suffering for not knowing how. And as antagonistic as we may be, I don’t actually hate you nearly so much these days, and I find myself discomfited by your very obvious pining, as well.” Well, that’s…actually quite sweet. And rather disquieting, if he’s honest.

“So I gave him something to help him articulate himself. It won’t make him say anything he doesn’t want to, won’t force him to reveal any truths against his will or create any feelings that weren’t already there. It just…smooths the way. Untangles all those knots in his head so something coherent can make it out of his mouth. But you two aren’t cuddled up by the fire making me want to vomit, which means it didn’t fucking work, and I have to figure out why!” She looks rather like she would huff and stomp her foot at this, if the great and powerful Yennefer of Vengerberg would ever stoop to something so childish.

Jaskier thinks very hard about the last hour or so of his life. He thinks about Geralt saying “please,” and he thinks about the way all those words fell out of him and just kept coming and coming and coming, like a pot boiling over, piling up in a heap at Jaskier’s feet. He thinks about Geralt crying.

“Well- uh. Hmm. You know, it occurs to me now- it’s funny really, I think you’ll laugh, definitely laugh, not look at me with that petrifying glare you’ve got on right now, no you’ll be laughing I’m quite sure- Alright, yes, ok! Yes! Right, well, um. I think, looking at recent events, fresh eyes and all that you know- I’m just saying, it would have been helpful to have some of this information going in, is all- Ow! Melitele’s tits, that hurt! Do those nails come standard at Aretuza, or were you just born lucky? Ouch! Ok, ok, stop pinching me, witch! Like I was saying, with the benefit of this new information, I think it’s possible your magical intervention whosit thingy may have worked exactly as expected?”

She narrows her eyes. “If it worked, why are you crying to a horse instead of snuggling with your man?” His man. That can’t be right. Can it? Geralt isn’t his. Except. Except for all the things he sounded like he might be gearing up to say when Jaskier cut him off. Fuck.

“I, uh. I maybe. I maybe stopped him partway through and told him I needed a break?” He winces back as her already truly impressive glare intensifies even further- yep, she’s still got it.

“I did not go to all the effort of brewing that fucking potion, tailoring it for Witcher metabolisms, and making it fucking tasteless and odorless so he would drink it, not to mention standing out here in the fucking woods in the middle of the night with nothing to fucking do, just so you could chicken out halfway through getting everything you ever fucking wanted.” Her eyes are glowing violet now, which is. Wow. Scary. She’s so scary. He remembers now why he always thought she was so so scary. She jabs her finger towards the kneeling figure by the wall. “Get the fuck back in there and finish the damn conversation, bard,” she hisses. “I will not deal with this bullshit all the way to the Redanian border.”

She turns to leave again, and Jaskier shoots out a hand to stop her. She looks at his hand on her elbow and he briefly worries he’s going to end the night as a slug of some kind, but she just looks up at him questioningly.

“I just. Fuck. I know- I know this probably wasn’t easy for you. You know I know better than most what you’re feeling right now. But you’re helping anyway, so. Thank you, Yennefer. Even if it doesn’t go like you think, like I hope, you were willing to try even though it hurts, so thank you.” He isn’t sure what his face is doing, but he hopes she can see how genuinely grateful he is.

She smiles a little sadly. “Come on, songbird, We both know he was never really mine. And besides, I’m not the settling down type. Now go, don’t make me curse you.” She shoots him what would be a very passable glare if it weren’t for the slight glimmer of tears in her eyes, then spins on her heel and stalks off into the night.

He turns back to the cave, hesitating for a single moment before there’s an irritated huff, a nip to the sleeve of his jacket, and a frankly unnecessarily forceful shove to his back. He glares back at Roach, who seems unperturbed. “I’ve got entirely too many black-haired gorgeous women trying to run my life right now, do you hear me? Too many!” Roach huffs again. “Fine. I’m going, are you happy?” He takes another step and looks over his shoulder. She looks smug. Of course she does. “I think you’re just the old Roach reincarnated. Never seen another horse look so damn satisfied with herself,” he mutters, but he’s already heading back into the cave, so he figures she’s won this round.

He feels slightly guilty about grabbing Geralt’s waterskin before going to him, but he isn’t sure how long Yen’s potion lasts, or if meditating will have burned more of it off. Maybe it’s disingenuous to give him more without telling him what’s in it, but, weirdly, he trusts Yen when she says it won’t force Geralt to do or say anything he doesn’t want to, and Jaskier isn’t sure he’ll ever get to hear the words otherwise. He’ll tell him afterwards. He won’t keep this secret forever.

He sits down quietly next to Geralt, leaning up against the wall of the cave. He takes one deep breath, then another, and another. He rests his fingers gently on Geralt’s hand where it sits on his thigh. Geralt’s breathing gradually picks up until he’s back to almost his normal, slow rhythm. His eyes open, landing on Jaskier’s hand on his and following the line of his arm back up to his face.

Jaskier hands him the waterskin, and Geralt takes it with a nod of gratitude before taking a long drink. “I’m alright now,” Jaskier says. “I’m sorry I stopped you.

Geralt searches his face, eyes searching Jaskier’s for signs of dishonesty. Apparently finding none, he nods slightly, golden eyes closing again for a moment. When they open, he’s not looking at Jaskier any longer.

Jaskier looks at his hand, fingertips still resting ever so lightly on Geralt’s palm, and considers taking it back. He thinks about what Geralt has told him so far tonight, about the conviction in Yen’s voice when she insisted Geralt had feelings for him. Fuck it, he decides, and lays his hand more firmly in Geralt’s, lacing their fingers together. Geralt draws in a sharp breath and looks up at him in shock, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he grips Jaskier’s hand tighter, like he’s worried Jaskier is going to try to run.

“I know you,” Jaskier says slowly. “I’ve known you for more than half my life, and I know that you aren’t cruel, or callous, or unkind. I know that there is always a reason behind the things you say, and the things you do, even if no one else can see it.” He swallows hard, closing his eyes briefly. Geralt squeezes his hand lightly, which…helps, actually. It helps a lot. “I’m sorry I accused you of hurting me on purpose, for the sake of causing me pain. I was overwhelmed and having trouble processing things, but I shouldn’t have jumped to a conclusion I know wasn’t true. If you still want to talk, I’m ready to listen now.”

“It wasn’t an illogical conclusion to draw. And it wasn’t even completely wrong.” His voice is calmer than before, measured and even. Not as frantic. The river is still flowing free, but it’s calmed, no longer the violent rush of a broken dam. He sighs, a great, world-weary thing. “It was because you’re safe.” Jaskier looks at him quizzically.

Geralt draws in another deep breath before continuing. “I can’t ever show emotion. Not to humans. Not anger, or fear, or sometimes even joy. The myths about Witchers not having feelings…they aren’t just vicious rumors made up by bigots. They’re there to protect us. From them.”

Jaskier frowns. “You mean Witchers put that rumor out yourselves? But why?” Surely demonstrating how human Witchers really are can only help matters, right?

“In a way.” Geralt tilts his head in the way Jaskier knows means he’s remembering something long past. “It’s part of how we’re trained. We’re taught to suppress emotion, to hide it from everyone, including ourselves. It’s how we’ve done things for 400 years.” His thumb sweeps little arcs across the back of Jaskier’s hand, and Jaskier’s heart trips in his chest. He knows Geralt can probably hear it, but it must not worry him and he keeps talking.

“The first Witchers were experiments. Men twisted by mages hoping to combat the monsters that plagued the world. The process has been…refined, since then. At first, they really were- well. More monster than man.” Geralt tips his head back against the rock wall. “Humans were terrified of them. One and all, right down to their bones. The first Witchers didn’t take contracts, because no humans would even speak with them. They just wandered around until they found a monster to kill, and then moved on to the next. Eventually, people started to realize that Witchers were only killing monsters, and leaving humans be, so they slowly started reaching out for help.”

“Ungrateful sods, the lot of them,” Jaskier mutters, and hears Geralt’s quiet huff of laughter in response.

“You’re. You’re so special, do you know that?” Jaskier jerks his head up in surprise to see Geralt’s eyes on his face, liquid gold lit like sunrise by the light of the fire, a tiny smile playing around his lips. “You’ve never been afraid of me. Not once. Not even when the only things you knew about me were that I scowled a lot and I had two very scary swords.” Jaskier flushes at the reminder of the babble that spilled out of his mouth the moment he laid eyes on the single most attractive person he had ever seen in his 18 years of life.

He drops his eyes, knowing there’s no hiding the blush on his cheeks but ignoring it as hard as he can anyway. “What’s there to be scared of? You’re a puppy, not a wolf.” He expects a grumble, or a glare, or for Geralt to ignore him completely. Certainly not the bark of laughter that would have woken Ciri were it not for Yen’s charm. He stares at Geralt’s face, firelight flickering over pale skin, honest joy written in the curve of his mouth, and grins back helplessly.

“You’re the only one who’s ever thought that. Except maybe Eskel.” He laughs again, more quietly this time, then sobers slightly. “Humans are afraid of us. They always have been. Less now, since you,” he squeezes Jaskier’s hand again and Jaskier flushes even darker, “but the first Witchers were barely more than feral, and that impression…stuck. Humanity never got past it. Even when new generations of Witchers were made, when we became something closer to men than to monsters, their fear never went away. Any emotion, even the faintest irritation, was enough to make most humans think a Witcher was about to go berserk, to start tearing out the throats of anyone who got too close. So, we learned to shut them down.”

His eyes are downcast now, and Jaskier thinks of a tiny Geralt, just a boy, younger than Ciri, excited about the world, curious and clever and mischievous, thinks about him learning to hide his heart away until even he couldn’t find it anymore, and he wants to scream. He wants to cry, he wants to rage, he wants to find every human who ever judged a Witcher by his eyes and not his deeds and mount their heads on spikes. He wants to tear out their hearts and make them watch as he throws them on the pyre, burning them out like so many boys were made to burn out their own.

Geralt can smell his turmoil, he knows, and he clings to the comfort offered when he holds Jaskier’s hand as tightly as he can without hurting him, still tracing circles into his skin with his thumb.

“It isn’t safe, to have feelings. Humans may spit on a mutant with a heart of stone, but they’ll hunt and kill a monster with teeth they think will harm them. It’s safer to be cold, to be hard. To let all of it roll off of us like snow off a mountain. And after a while, you forget how to be anything else. You forget that it’s a lie, that it’s something you had to learn. You start to believe it too.” There are tears dripping off of Jaskier’s nose now, but he doesn’t dare interrupt again. “I had forgotten, until you.”

He looks at Jaskier with such naked feeling in his fiery eyes that Jaskier can’t fathom how anyone could believe this man has no heart. “You made me feel. You walked into my life and just-“ He huffs another low laugh, the faraway look on his face impossibly fond. “You just didn’t listen to a fucking thing I said. Ever! Not once! And it drove me up the godsdamned wall. I was going out of my mind, I was so fucking annoyed. You never stopped talking, or singing, or playing that damn lute, you never stayed out of the way on hunts like I told you to, you ignored me whenever I said I didn’t have feelings or I didn’t need anyone or we weren’t friends. And you wouldn’t leave! You just kept coming back, no matter how much of an arse I was, even when I acted in ways that would have made other humans shit themselves, or come after me with torches and pitchforks, or both. You just kept coming back, and you kept not believing me when I told you I was a monster, and you never smelled fucking afraid, and after a while I realized that irritated wasn’t the only thing you made me feel anymore.”

He seems to withdraw into himself a little, his shoulders hunching and his head hanging slightly. He tries to withdraw his hand, but Jaskier isn’t sure he can get through this conversation without it, so he hopes Geralt will forgive him for pushing yet more boundaries and simply holds onto him tighter.

Geralt sighs again, but stops pulling away. “But there’s still so much shit in the world. There are so many humans who hate me, or fear me, or try to cheat me, or who end up being monsters worse than the ones they want me to kill, and the problem with having it smacked over my head that I do actually have feelings, is that it makes it so much harder to ignore them. And there’s so much anger in me, Jaskier, and grief, and loneliness. And I can’t ever show it to anyone, or it will confirm everything they think they know about me. It will make me a monster. It will make me the Butcher all over again.” He looks up again, his expression anguished. “You’re the only one who’s safe. You’re the only one I can be angry around, or sad, or scared, or just annoyed, without thinking the worst of me. You’re the only one who ever comes back.”

Jaskier is back to feeling like his heart is being fed through a sieve, but he thinks he understands what Geralt is trying to say this time. He feels a renewed rush of guilt for assuming the worst of him before. Is he any better than the rest, jumping to the foulest possible conclusion while Geralt wrestles with his tongue to try and make him understand? He turns his head away, closing his eyes against the tears and trying to breathe through the shame.

Fingers grip his chin gently and coax his head back until he’s looking into Geralt’s slitted eyes again. The look on his face is so soft, so open, that Jaskier feels like his ribs are being pried apart at the sight of it. “You have no idea how much of a blessing you have actually been in my life, Jaskier,” and those words just crack his chest wide open and bare his heart to the whole room, don’t they? “I took advantage of you. I wanted so badly to have someone in my life I could show all the darkest parts of myself to, without them running away, that I forgot to show you the rest. And I forgot to help carry your darkness in return. I left you with such a burden, Jaskier, and you never once complained or asked me to help. You have done nothing but give, for as long as I’ve known you, and I wish I could show you how sorry I am that I was content for so long just to take.” Jaskier is pretty sure he’s openly sobbing now, but Geralt is sliding his hand up from his chin to cup his cheek, sweeping the tears away with his thumb, so it’s probably ok.

“Let me make it up to you, Jaskier. Let me be the one to give to you for once. Let me carry your burdens for a while. Let me give you a reason to forgive me. A reason to come back.” His eyes are pools of molten gold, wide and dark and shining with- emotion. An emotion. Jaskier isn’t going to hazard a guess at which emotion, because he isn’t sure he can handle the answer.

“I’ve already forgiven you, you great lummox. For all of it. A safe place is all I ever wanted to be for you. I only ever wanted to give you a home. Like you gave me. Just- just share it with me next time, please? The anger, or the fear? Share it with me first, instead of letting it fester and burn us both. That’s all I need from you.”

Geralt’s hand on his cheek guides him forward until their faces are inches from each other, foreheads resting together. Jaskier’s eyes want to close but he can’t bear to look away, too afraid this is all an impossible dream that will disappear as soon as he opens them again. He can see the way the firelight glimmers off his silver hair, the scars through his eyebrow, the tears clinging to his eyelashes as they sweep gently over his cheeks. He’s never seen anything so beautiful in his life.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever deserved you, but I would do anything for the chance to try to be someone who does. I’m yours, Jaskier. You need only say you’ll have me.”

Jaskier is a man of words. He’s a bard, words are his trade, his weapons, the blood in his veins. No matter what else is happening around him, no matter what he has or what he’s lost or what needs to be done, there are always words ready to spring forth from him like water from a spigot. He has never, in all his life, been out of words.

Until now.

Fuck it.

Geralt’s lips are softer than he imagined, given that his skincare routine seems to consist primarily of monster innards. But they’re soft and they’re warm and they move so gently against Jaskier’s that he thinks he might simply melt into a puddle, to be absorbed into the earth and never seen again. The kiss is tender, and sweet, and longing, and not at all how he imagined his first kiss with Geralt would be. It’s perfect. Jaskier breaks it with a watery laugh, keeping his forehead pressed to Geralt’s.

Somehow his free hand has found its way back into Geralt’s silky hair, and he threads his fingers deeper into the moonlit locks and hopes he’ll never have to let go.

“You’re mine?” He knows he sounds a little pleading, disbelief coloring his tone, but he can’t help it. He’s had this dream so many times, he needs to be sure it’s real this time. “Really?”

“Really, little lark.” Geralt is smiling just as wide as Jaskier is, his cheeks just as damp. “I’ve always been yours, I was just too stupid to admit it. I won’t make that mistake again. I love you. I’ll never leave you behind again, not for the rest of your life, if you’ll let me.”

And, oh, there’s a conversation they should maybe have, because after all the revelations of tonight, Jaskier is fairly sure Geralt thinks he’s completely human, and is probably in pain over his supposed mortality. At some point before they go to sleep Jaskier will mention it, because apparently Geralt hasn’t noticed that his face hasn’t changed a lick in 25 years, the stubble he wears these days notwithstanding.

Because Geralt is a ridiculous, incredible, oblivious, stupid, wonderful fool, and Jaskier loves him so much he can hardly breathe. So he tells him so. The rest can wait.

[jakesimfromstatefarm]

how to fake date your best friend | jake sim

✰ summary: the rules were simple -

pretend to be the boyfriend of you, his best friend who wants the attention of their crush, for a week and a week only

no kissing (bc gross cooties amirite) allowed, unless needed in times of desperate measure 

and no matter what, absolutely, most definitely, do not fall in love. 

simple, right?

well apparently not. because news flash––jake's already broken one of the rules. 

and to give you a hint, it's neither rule 1 or 2.

✰ pairing: jake sim x y/n [ft. members of enha!] 

✰ genre: fluff, comedy | fakingdating!au, highschool!au, bestfriend!au, friends to lovers

✰ warnings: cursing, high-schoolers doing dumb highschool things, underage drinking (pls don’t actually do any of this irl), jake being a certified simp, it’s LONG (i’m so sorry), cheesy kithes bc im a sucker for kithes ( ˘ ³˘)♥

✰ wc: a whopping 9.5k

✰ a/n: it’s finally finished :’)))))) it ended up being much longer than i wanted but i had so much fun writing the characters that i got carried away lolol anywaysss i hope you guys enjoy it,,,i got a little unmotivated during the process bc i didn’t know if it was good or not but here it is heh (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡ 

Tuesday, December 8th

Jake Sim lives a simple life. 

He likes to think he leads the normal, stereotypical life of a teenage boy. Has decent grades, plays soccer after school, skateboards around the neighborhood, has a best friend who he’s desperately in love with, and has a stable group of friends. 

Okay, maybe not so simple, because this boy would physically launch himself to the moon and drill at its surface to collect moon dust for you if you asked him to––despite his deadly fear of combusting in outer space. 

But that fear doesn’t even compare to his worst one yet: not having you in his life. 

And so, he decided to just repress any and all feelings he’s had for you ever since he discovered them in middle school, when he realized he hated seeing you go to the eighth grade dance with a date––that wasn’t him. 

He decided that he wasn’t going to risk losing a life-long friendship over some dumb, teenage boy feelings. 

They were probably powered by his testosterone anyways. Yeah, that’s totally it.

He’s totally not in love with you. 

So yes, he lives a pretty normal life. Every day is the same as the last, and tomorrow will be the same as today. But he likes it like that––he doesn’t want anything to change. 

Especially not now, when he finds himself content with every aspect of his life (okay maybe except for his history grade, god, does he hate history). 

So, it catches him off guard when you arrive at the group’s usual lunch table, located outside in your school’s courtyard, looking as excited as ever. 

Jake’s the only one at the table so far. The remaining usually showed up late––Heeseung spends his first half of lunch tutoring freshmen for community service hours (but the poor boy has no idea what he’s doing), Sunghoon is probably stuck in line in the cafeteria again (he always forgets to pack his own lunch), and Jay is...well actually, no one ever knows where Jay comes from. He’s a special one. 

It catches Jake even more off guard when you skip over any greeting a normal person would give, and start speaking at one hundred words per second. 

And that catches us up to the present.

“Y-You want me to what?” Jake’s stuttering as you stare at him with your hopeful eyes from across the lunch table. 

Despite the expression planted on your face, which screams your excitement for your “brilliant, amazing, genius, Einstein-could-never” idea (or whatever other words you used to describe it––Jake can’t exactly recall the specific terms you used, they all came out of your mouth too fast), you don’t respond to his question of bafflement. You continue to stare at him, awaiting his response. Jake could compare the look on your face right now to a puppy looking up at its owner, eagerly waiting for a treat. You know, tongue out and all. 

He swallows the lump that’s lodged in this throat (is that the sandwich he’s having, or his nerves?) and continues to give you his look of confusion laced with a nervous smile because surely, you’re joking. 

You grab what’s left of your sandwich from his hands and take your own bite. Somewhere in between you arriving at the table and now, Jake’s managed to steal the sandwich you brought today. You did make the best chicken sandwiches, in his defense. 

“Well? It’s only for the week! And I promise you, after one week, if nothing happens––if he doesn’t make a move or anything––I’ll move on from him like you’ve been telling me to.” Your words are muffled from you savoring your sandwich, or what’s left of it anyways. (Mental note to self: don’t share your lunch with Jake ever again.) 

When Jake still doesn’t respond (you’ve truly gotten this poor boy paralyzed), you find it as a sign to continue. 

“I think it’s the perfect plan. Plus, if it doesn’t work out, it’ll be like the universe is telling me to finally move on, right?” 

Wrong. 

Jake has been encouraging you to move on from your crush because well, if we’re being honest here, he selfishly wants you to himself. Even if it wasn’t romantically.

Preferably, he would kill to get to be the one who holds your hand in the hall, call you cheesy pet names, post disgustingly cute couple pics for the ‘gram––but for the sake of potentially ruining his relationship with you, he’ll just have to settle with the role of being your best friend. 

(And he’s totally fine with that! Totally. Yup.) 

But he didn’t think that you moving on would only be a mere possible outcome (that may not even happen!) from whatever this stunt is you wanna pull. 

Said stunt: Pretend to date one another and hope it catches the eye of a certain someone you have your eye on: Park Sunghoon. 

Ah yes, Park Sunghoon. The previously mentioned one who’s probably still in line waiting to get his lunch as we speak. 

Park Sunghoon, the tall, kind, intelligent, charming young boy that everyone knows. And if anyone didn’t know him, they most definitely knew of him. He wasn’t hard to miss in the halls; everything about him just radiates perfection. 

If you plucked a random high-schooler from the halls of this school and interviewed them on the Park Sunghoon, they’d say you’d be lucky enough if the quiet boy so much as sparked a conversation with you, even if it was about what last night’s chemistry homework was. 

Well if that were true, then you and the rest of the boys would be considered lottery winners. 

How that happened, how the four of you dysfunctional beings earned his friendship, the world may never know. However, Jake is fully convinced that this was the universe’s way of playing a cruel joke on him. 

For as long as Jake could remember, it’s always been just the two of you. You and Jake. Jake and you. (With the exception of Heeseung and Jay, of course, who came along in middle school) 

In fact, your earliest memory of Jake was when he peed his pants in the kindergarten during nap time. You would know, you had the privilege of sharing a sleeping mat with him that one fateful day and in result...let’s just say the smell didn’t wear off from your clothes until a week later. Five-year-old you didn’t forgive five-year-old Jake for the longest time. 

And since then, you’ve been attached by the hip. And Jake liked it like that. Jake didn’t need anyone else in his life (with the exception of Leila) if he had you. He had found his home within you, and he didn’t plan on sharing his space anytime soon. 

Nevertheless, the universe had a completely different idea for the two of you. 

Sunghoon came into the picture last year, towards the end of the school year. Despite being the new kid, he found his way into your cherished friend group and naturally, the five of you grew as close as friends could be. 

That was the problem. Jake wanted to hate Sunghoon, to despise him for being the one that you had heart eyes for, but he couldn’t. 

Not only was Sunghoon one of Jake’s closest friends, but he didn’t want to ruin the dynamic of the friend group. After you, the three chaotic boys were the next most important people in Jake’s life. 

And so, we have the typical love triangle plot that every coming-of-age movie follows. Of course, this is all unbeknownst to you––you may be intelligent and a people-person, but oh boy can you not see the heart eyes your very own best friend has for you. 

“It’ll be easier than you think, really! Look, we can even set boundaries or rules or whatever,” you propose, as if you’re trying to get him to sign a contract. 

Rules to a fake relationship? We’re not living in a Netflix romcom, are we? 

“Okay rule number 1: it’ll only be for a week and a week only, rule number 2: we don’t have to do anything too couple-ly like...” you pause to wonder for a second. 

“Like PDA or anything! You know, unless we really need to convince him,” you casually add. When he responds with radio silence and stares at you with absolute concern painted all over his face, you cough. “Jake, I’m joking.” 

Right. Of course. Obviously. 

“And of course, just try not to fall in love with me, it’ll be hard, I know,” you send a playful wink his way. 

Too late. Turns out it’s not that hard. Jake would know. 

Jake continues to stare at you in hesitation. Yeah, you’ve had your fair share of crazy ideas (that Jake always find himself agreeing to––the poor boy just can’t seem to say no to you), but fake dating you?

Jake is sure he wouldn’t be able to pull it off without slowly destroying himself. He’d just have to say no, he’s sure you can find someone else to do it for you. 

Yes, that’s it, just say no. 

Jake has to keep some of his pride in tact. 

Jake does not say no. 

He doesn’t know what went wrong. His mind said one thing, but his words said another. 

To be fair, Jake’s actions have always been influenced by his heart, not his brain, anyways. And when it comes to you, you bet it’ll be coming from his heart. 

So here he was now, under the stare of three equally shocked and confused guys across from you and him at the lunch table, your fingers intertwined with his.

Just a few seconds ago, you had spotted the rest of the lunch bunch approaching the table, and you quickly grabbed Jake’s hand and scooted in closer to him.  

Now here you were, explaining to your friends of your sudden relationship.  

Jake is too zoned out to even physically pick up your explanation. Something along the lines of "we’ve been dating for a while but didn’t want to tell you guys yet." From the feeling of your hand clutched tightly into his and your body right up next to him, his mind was short-circuiting. 

How is he supposed to last an entire week of this if he couldn't handle innocent hand holding? Hand holding? God, what are we, back in the fifth grade?  

Two minutes into this scheme and Jake's mind has already downgraded itself to a fifth grader's.  

Jake mentally scolds himself for giving in, this was not a good idea. 

It takes Jake approximately 12 hours to conclude that this stunt of yours may, actually, be a good idea. He knows this because approximately 12 hours after the events surrounding lunch, he receives a text from you: 

y/n [12:03AM]: thanks again for doing this for me jake

y/n [12:03AM]: ur actually the best

y/n [12:04AM]: ew ok that was cheesy but really i owe u a big one <333

Following your thread of texts is a really close up photo of you widely smiling into the camera. A smile so big, Jake’s convinced your face was probably in pain after taking that picture. 

Anyone else might’ve thought the photo looked borderline insane but because Jake’s Jake, aka a simpᵗᵐ for you, he comes to the conclusion that it’s singlehandedly the cutest thing he’s ever seen in the entire world. 

After quickly saving the selfie into his phone, Jake tells himself that maybe this won’t be a bad thing after all. I mean, anything that makes you smile like that meant it has to be a good idea, right? 

Spoken like a true simp. 

Plus, dating you––fake dating you––is pretty much the same as it was before. He already spends most of his days with you to begin with. Now, it’s just with added displays of affection. For show, obviously. Obviously. 

And look, if Jake will never get to actually be with you, then he’ll take what he can get. And if that meant fake dating you, well, he reasons that it’s better than nothing at all. 

Wednesday, December 9th 

Jake’s playing with the rings on your right hand and you’re in the middle of dramatically telling the lunch table about the infuriating Karen you had to deal with at work the other day when Jay comes up with a grin you all know a little too well. 

“Okay that grin means one of two things: you finally grew the balls to ask out that poor girl you’ve been teasing all year or you have something planned that we won’t like,” you interrupt your story when you catch Jay’s sly expression, evoking a chuckle from Jake, who’s now found a new distraction with the bracelets perches on your wrist. 

“Excuse you, I’ll have you know that I did ask her out. It just so happens that she’s currently ‘in between boyfriends’ whatever that means. Ouch, by the way,” Jay feigns hurt from your comment by clutching the area above his heart through his shirt. Ever the drama queen. “But yes, I do have something planned. And no, it’s not a bad idea.” 

Jay squeezes his way in between Sunghoon and Heeseung from across you and begins to pull out his own lunch. Everyone’s eyes follow him as he settles in because as bad as his unknown idea may be, you’re all still curious on what this boy has to say. 

“Well are you going to elaborate or...” Heeseung speaks up for everyone after you all mentally debate one another through darting eyes on who’s going to have to bite Jay’s silent bait.

Jay then forcefully sets both hands on his table, which elicits a little jump from you as you go for a bite of your sandwich. Adorable, Jake tells himself. 

“My parents are out of town this weekend. We all know what that means...” 

Yes. We do know what that means. The four of you have seen this scenario play out many times, a little too many times for your own good. 

This meant one of Jay’s infamous house parties that he always throws whenever his parents go out of town. And because his parents are hot-shot CEOs of an important company whose name you don’t remember (it’s nothing personal, your brain can only handle so much information and this physics exam you were studying for took up 90% of your brain capacity at the moment), they’re out of town often. 

And along with Jay’s parties comes chaos. Lots of it. And that’s because...well, it’s safe to say that despite the many school-wide presentations the police officers of your school have held in the auditorium on why you shouldn’t drink underage, Jay’s parents’ liquor cabinet always seems to find itself missing many a few bottles after each party. But we don’t talk about that. Shush. 

Almost simultaneously, everyone at the table lets out a groan, much to Jay’s disappointment. 

“C’mon guys! It’s been a while since anything’s fun happened to this school, think of all the sad students in that building right now,” he extends a finger whole-ass arm and points at your school, “who are in dire need of fun and a little...” he punctuates his sentence with the hand motion of chugging down a drink, followed with a gulping sound elicited from his tongue clicking. 

You roll your eyes along with everyone else. Don’t be like Jay, kids. Listen to those police officers. 

“Jay, it’s midterm season! I have an exam on Monday and I definitely do not want to spend the nights before wasted,” you give him an apologetic look. As crazy as Jay is, you do feel bad nonetheless. The boy just wants to have fun. 

Your response is followed up with similar comments from around the table. 

“I’m helping y/n study” 

“I have an important skating performance on Sunday” 

“Uh...my hamster died?” (ok Heeseung panicked, don’t blame the guy)

Ignoring that last excuse of an excuse, Jay continues his debate nonetheless. “Just come for the sake of it! No one’s saying you have to get wasted. Pleaseeee for me?” 

Jay throws these parties so often, you’re not sure why he’s so set on making sure you’re all going to be there. Well, I guess who wouldn’t want their closest friends to be at their own party? 

That and, Jay needs to make sure his friends are there to stop him from doing anything stupid. We all know this boy has had enough embarrassing moments to last him a lifetime. 

Everyone at the table gives each other the same hesitant look. Heeseung is the first to give in, “Oh fuck it. Sure, count me in.” 

Jay’s fist pumping the air before turning to Sunghoon with the most hopeful eyes. 

Sunghoon simply sighs in return. “Alright okay, I’ll bite. But if you vomit on my shoes again, I’m out the door.” Jay’s finger is automatically drawing a cross over his heart as a promise to not ruin Sunghoon’s Nikes again. 

He then looks to you with puppy eyes. 

You, who's already staring back at Jay with a stoic look in your eyes, are stubborn and (unlike the previous weaklings) are not as easy to convince. And somehow, this began an unannounced staring contest between the two of you, a contest to see who would budge first. This isn't an uncommon occurrence between you and Jay, but the rest of the boys are still on the edges of their seats watching this duel.

Jake casually wraps an arm around your shoulder and you’re brought in close, but still undeterred from your death-stare match with the boy across from you. 

If it’s not obvious enough, Jake’s really gotten into his role of being your boyfriend, despite it only being 24 hours since he last froze at your touch. Character development, you’ll give him that. 

You almost forget he’s faking it for a quick second. And for an even quicker second, you imagine he wasn’t faking it. And you swear you feel butterflies in your stomach at that thought. 

Weird. 

You mentally shake the thought out of your head. Priorities first, aka, beating Jay in this staring contest. 

“Fuck,” you stutter when you finally blink, admitting defeat to a grinning Jay. “Okay, okay, I’ll THINK about it. I’ll let you know.” 

Not exactly the answer Jay was looking for, but he’ll take it. Better than a no. 

He turns to Jake next, knowing there’s no way Jake will turn down a party. Just like Jay, the boy loves himself a good party. 

But–

But because Jake would take your physics exam this Monday for you if you asked, because Jake would bungee jump in the Grand Canyon without a safety net below him if you asked, because Jake would fake date you to make your crush jealous for you if you asked, he doesn’t hesitate in his answer this time around: “Same as y/n, I’ll let you know.” 

Jay looks at Jake. Then back at you, who he’s still clinging onto like a koala to a tree. Then back at Jake. “You two are gross. Admittedly cute. But gross.” 

You look up at the boy next to you to see him already grinning at you. 

For the first time today, you find yourself agreeing with Jay. 

Admittedly cute. 

Thursday, December 10th 

You are having a bad day. 

You’re having the mother of bad days. 

Not only is it midterm season, but you still have all your regular weekly assignments to finish before Friday hits. So as a natural-born procrastinator does, you stayed up all last night trying to get a good amount of work done because what’s better than cramming all your work the night before it’s due? Doing it two nights before it’s due. 

Well apparently it wasn’t such a good idea. Because now, here you were, frantically throwing on whatever articles of clothing you find nearest to you because you slept through all your alarms. 

You’re lucky enough to make it through your school’s doors right as the second bell rings, even if you did look like you just walked straight out of a zombie apocalypse. 

You’re not so lucky when you find out your first class of the day, calculus, had a pop quiz. A pop quiz on the only unit you just happened to know absolutely nothing about. 

To top things off, you forgot to pack your lunch during this morning’s frenzy, meaning you’re automatically stuck sharing with Jake.

And because his mother started making him pack his own food out of a lesson of responsibility (she said something along the lines of: “Jake, you’re about to be in college and you don’t know how to pack a decent meal”), he only has a plain PB&J sandwich and a pack of Scooby-Doo gummies in his bag today (because newsflash, he still doesn’t know how to pack a decent meal). 

Not that you could care less at the moment, you were too preoccupied with catching up on your assignments to even eat. And if any of the boys noticed your zombie-like state during lunch, they did a good job of not mentioning it. They knew better than to bother an irritated y/n. 

Somehow, you make it through the entire school day and your after-school meeting for environmental club (save the trees!) in one piece. As you finally walk out of the school building, you exhale, automatically feeling lighter. At least the hard part of your day was done. 

Now you just had to wait for Jake to finish soccer practice, which usually ended around the same time as your club, and he can drive you home, where you can continue being irritated with your day in the privacy of your own space. 

You wait on the steps of the school’s entrance, waiting for a smiley Jake to come around the corner as he usually does at 5:30pm every Thursdays. 

Yes, a smiling Jake is exactly what you needed to make your day ten times better, you conclude. 

As if on cue, you hear a ding from your phone. 

Jake [5:30PM]: ugh coach is extending practice for “team bonding” 

Jake [5:30PM]: idek what team bonding is 

Jake [5:31PM]: you ok if i cant drive you today? :// 

It’s as if the universe decided to use you as its punching bag today. 

You physically let out a distorted groan, not caring if anyone who happened to hear you thought you were a creature from out of this world, as you send him a text back.

y/n [5:32PM]: it’s all good lol have fun with tEaM bOnDiNg

Things were not all good. But no matter how upset you may be, you weren’t going to project your negative vibes onto Jake’s naturally positive ones. So you get up from the stone steps and begin your dreaded walk back home. 

It’s freezing out. You should’ve known better to just throw on a hoodie and call it a day when it’s the middle of December. But then again, you figured by now you’d be in the comfort and warmth of Jake’s car and presence...not walking home in these freezing temperatures. 

You think about Jake and how he’s probably currently suffering from not only his team bonding exercises (but really though, what are team bonding exercises?), but doing them in this weather as well. The poor boy. 

You’re quickly broken out of your thoughts by the sound of a car engine from behind you. When you don’t see it pass by you and instead hear it pull over and park next to the curb of the sidewalk you’re currently on, you automatically deduce that this is it, this is my time, I’m about to get kidnapped by whoever it is behind me but y/n, you should probably turn around and check first before you drive yourself insane in this inner dialogue. 

You turn around and squint into the front window of the car. If it were a kidnapper, this is exactly what your mother told you not to do. Her exact words were: “Run, don’t look back, and scream bloody murder.” 

Good thing it wasn’t. Just an innocent Sunghoon waving his hand at you, motioning you to get in. 

“Sunghoon?” You approach his car and stop at the passenger side’s open window. 

“y/n! It’s freezing out, I’ll drive you home c’mon,” he nods his head towards the passenger side door. 

Well, how could you say no? Sunghoon owns a nice car. Like a nice car. Like car-seat-heaters-that-make-you-feel-like-you’re-physically-melting nice. Beats getting hypothermia outside, right? 

“Why are you going home from school so late?” You ask as you settle into his car, instantly melting at the touch of the aforementioned heated seats. 

“Debate club, actually. Decided I needed another personality trait other than ice skating,” he starts the engine and begins driving towards the direction of your neighborhood. 

You laugh at his comment, you didn’t peg him as a debate kind of student. Quiet Sunghoon? Debate club? If 2 plus 2 is four...

“Hey, I don’t call you the Ice Prince for nothing! Also, don’t forget your other personality trait: forgetting your lunch every day.” 

Sunghoon quickly glances over at you to send you a dirty look (because eyes on the road, kids!), which you return with a cheeky grin. “Need I remind you that was you today?” 

“Touché,” you click your tongue. 

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence, the faint sound of Sunghoon's music in the background filling in the quietness.  

You’re humming along until Sunghoon breaks the silence, “Did Jake get stuck at practice again?” 

You don’t know why, but you swear you feel your heart beat faster at the mention of Jake’s name. No, that was always there right? Because you were with Sunghoon...your crush..obviously. Obviously. 

Ignoring the feeling, you turn your attention towards the boy driving you. 

“Oh yeah, something about team bonding. How’d you know?” 

“Eh, I just figured since he wasn’t driving you home like he always does.” He turns into your neighborhood. 

You nod at his answer. 

“You two make a good couple.” 

You whip your head at him. Did you hear him correctly?

“It was about time, really. You two have been ogling at one another for so long, Heeseung, Jay, and I almost placed bets on who would be the first to make a move.” 

He keeps his eyes on the road, casually going on about how you and Jake make the cutest couple he’s ever seen. 

You're frozen, unsure of what to think, let alone say. 

You think to two days ago, when you started this entire fake relationship because of the very boy driving you home right now. The same boy who's complimenting you on your fake relationship. The same boy who's supposed to be jealous over that said relationship. The same boy you’re supposed to be crushing over.

But now...only a mere 48 hours later, you were finding yourself okay with the fact that he was happy for you. And for the life of you, you couldn’t remember why you liked Sunghoon in the first place. Not saying he isn’t one to be crushed on, I mean, look at the guy. 

Maybe, just maybe, it had something to do with the fact that you didn't feel nervous or giddy or..anything at all when you got into the car with Sunghoon. At least, not until Jake's name was mentioned. That's when you felt the butterflies. At the mention of Jake.  

Jake. 

Weird. 

But before you can come to a conclusion on why you're feeling the way you do, Sunghoon interrupts your thoughts.  

"Well, we're here! Say hi to your parents for me," he pulls into your driveway as you're still collecting your thoughts.  

You give him a quick thanks and one last wave as you enter the front doors of your house.  

Seeing that your only solution towards confusing feelings meant distracting yourself, distract yourself you did.  

Even if it meant distracting yourself with your piling assignments.  

The next time you look up from your work, it's suddenly way past sundown and a heavy storm has taken over. You’re surprised it hasn’t started flooding yet with the amount of rainfall you were hearing. 

You check the time on your phone, the bright 8:16PM on the screen illuminating your dimly lit room. Seeing that neither of your parents have yet to be home from work, it looks like you were going to have to settle with some instant ramen for dinner tonight.  

As you trudge down the stairs of your home, the sound of light knocking against the front door catches your attention. It's been a long day y/n, you're probably hearing things, it's definitely just the rain.

Nope. There it is again, but much louder. Much more urgent.  

You contemplate any and all potential disasters that could happen from answering the door. Only a crazy person would be willing to go out in this hurricane-like weather to be frantically knocking on your door.  

And so, you assume it has to be some psychopath trying to get into your house. Yes, there’s definitely no other logical explanation. 

You scramble around your living room, looking for the next best weapon to defend you. Resorting to the flower vase your mother keeps on the table next to the front door, you hold it out in front of you, as if you're waiting for the door to burst open.  

The knocking continues, gradually getting louder. You mentally curse at yourself for dropping out of the taekwondo class your dad signed you up for when you were younger.  

Vase in hand, you swing open the door and brace for–

"Jake? What the fuck? Get in here, you're gonna get sick!"  

You’re suddenly aware of how stupid you look, holding a light pink vase with a couple of orchids as your only form of self-defense...for it to only be your own best friend. You immediately put it back on the table as Jake quickly rushes past you and into your humble abode.  

You close the door behind you and turn to face the soaked boy.  

“I come bearing gifts, also known as take-out and hot chocolate from that one cafe you love. Also my company, if you’ll take it. I had a feeling you weren’t having the best day today,” he’s simply standing there, holding up a large brown paper bag in one hand, and a deliciously smelling cup of hot chocolate in the other, but you’re looking at him as if he bought you the Moon. 

You stare in awe at the angel of a boy in front of you, silently thanking the stars for gifting you this amazing human being as your best friend. You don’t know what you did to deserve him. 

You give him a soft smile. “Jake, you didn’t have to. It’s practically a shitstorm out there,” you cock your head towards the window, showcasing the downpour of cats and dogs outside. Jake stays by the entrance as you go down the hall and through your house’s linen closet to find a spare towel for the drenched boy.

“Nah it’s no big deal, really. Just fulfilling my duties as your loyal boyfriend,” he grins, even though you can’t see him. He likes calling himself that. Your boyfriend.

Jake continues to shake his messy hair to get the excess rain off, giving a mental apology to whoever is going to have to mop up the puddle forming on the floor due to his unannounced visit. Probably you. 

Jake hears you laugh down the hall. “You’re really invested in your role, huh? Keep this up and you might actually trick me into believing you’re my actual boyfriend.” 

Actual boyfriend? Jake likes the sound of that. Maybe he will keep this up then.

Jake doesn’t have much experience in acting, unless you count that time he played the role of Town Villager #3 in the third grade play, so he never found it as one of his interests. But playing the role of your boyfriend was one he was willing to fulfill for the rest of life, even if it was just for show. 

Jake doesn’t respond to your comment, he’s instead self-aware of his blushing cheeks, thankful that you’re too busy rummaging through your linen closet to take notice. 

“Plus, you didn’t have lunch today and I had feeling you were going to be too caught up in your work to feed yourself anything other than instant ramen,” he sets down his gifts to you on your living room’s coffee table as you come around the corner, fresh towel and new set of clothes in hand. 

His eyes fall on the familiar looking pair of sweatpants and hoodie resting on the palms of your hands. 

Hm. A little too familiar. 

Then, it clicks in his head. 

His eyes narrow at you as you giggle at his reaction, “Oh, so it takes me getting drenched in the rain for you to finally return my clothes that I’ve been missing!?” 

“Hey! I’m not returning them, simply loaning them out to a friend who’s in dire need. You basically gifted them to me the second you left them here months ago.” 

“You’re annoying.” 

“Love you too,” you toss the clothes at him and take a seat on the floor around your coffee table, prepping the table with the boxes of Chinese food Jake supplied. 

After Jake changes into the stolen dry clothes, he takes a seat next to an already-eating you at the coffee table. 

“You. are. my lord and savior Sim Jaeyun,” you’re saying with your mouth full of fried rice. You sigh from satisfaction and rest your head against Jake’s shoulder as you continue chewing. He grins as he helps himself to his own serving of fried rice and orange chicken. 

You look up at him from your spot, “How was team bonding today?” 

Jake groans in response, clearly annoyed. “Stupid. I don’t get how doing trust falls and pyramid building is going to get us any closer. If anything, I almost FELL off that pyramid today!” 

You don’t know why, but you find yourself admiring him and his soft features as he continues to rant about one of his teammates, specifically, the one who almost dropped him. 

The way his messy hair, unkept from the rain ruining it, almost covers his eyes (but you tell yourself you like it this way, it looks more natural on him), the way the corners of his lips are always perked upwards (even when he’s ranting), the way his eyes sparkle whenever he’s truly passionate about whatever he’s talking about, the way his eyes look at you like–

“Stare much? Look, I get you can’t resist my good looks but at least be subtle about it,” he smirks at you as he takes another spoon of rice. 

You break out of his trance and scoff at him. 

“You’re cute when you rant,” you nonchalantly say as you move from your spot to mirror his actions and add more rice to your plate as well.  Jake’s stills at your sudden comment, unsure of how to respond. Lucky for him, you’re distracted by the mountain of food on your plate to even notice the blushing mess of a boy next to you. 

“You know, you’re lucky you’re cute. Or else I’d deck you right here and now for ditching me after school today.” 

Anddd there goes the moment. Leave it to you to follow up a compliment with a threat of violence. 

Jake finds it cute anyways. He always finds you cute. 

Jake narrows his eyes and lightly shoves you before an apology is written all over his face. “Sorry about that by the way. I feel awful about making you walk home when it was freezing out.” 

“Nah, it’s okay. Sunghoon gave me a ride, actually. Did you know he does debate? I guess you learn something new everyday,” you ramble, unaware of the boy next to you getting tense at the sudden mention of the other’s name. 

Up until now, Jake’s completely forgotten about Sunghoon's involvement in this entire scheme. In fact, the past 48 hours with you have felt so normal, so comfortable, he almost forgot about the deal in the first place.   “You think he has any clue?” Jake suddenly asks, referring to the plan. 

You immediately know what he’s referring to, as Jake practically worded out your very own thoughts. 

You shrug. “Not a single one. We’re practically William and Kate in his eyes. But honestly, that’s the least of my worries right now. I’m too distracted by my exams right now to care.” 

Jake feels guilty for being satisfied with your answer. He’s 100% sure that if convincing Sunghoon took you two an entire lifetime of fake dating, he’d be all too willing to do it. 

“Go to Jay’s party with me tomorrow,” he abruptly says, catching your attention as your mouth is stuffed. Cute. 

He pokes your cheek. “It’ll get your mind off of work and plus, what’s more convincing than showing up to a party with your amazing boyfriend?” he wiggles his eyebrows at you. Jake doesn’t know where he gets his sudden surge of confidence. But he does know he loves calling himself your boyfriend...even if it’s for the time being. 

Rolling your eyes and swatting his poking fingers away from your face, you ponder on his suggestion. 

“You mean my annoying boyfriend,” you stick your tongue out at him. Jake takes a mental picture and hopes it never leaves his mind. 

“But I guess you could be right. Maybe I can clear my head for the night before I study my ass off all weekend.” 

Friday, December 11th 

The party does not clear your mind. 

If anything, it gives you enough headaches to last you at least until the end of high-school. 

You come to this revelation as you and Jake approach Jay’s home, a luxurious mansion sitting at the end of a cul-de-sac, lined with similarly luxurious palaces, located in an equally luxurious neighborhood. 

You come to this revelation when you can already feel the pounding bass of music as you walk up Jay’s driveway. 

You come to this revelation when, not even two seconds after entering Jay’s front doors––

“You’re here!” A buzzed Jay shouts at the two of you, causing the both of you to contemplate your past choices that brought you here today. Jay definitely isn’t straight up drunk yet, but Jake still makes a mental note to keep an eye on him tonight. Just in case. 

The blonde-haired boy is quick to hand over two red solo cups of god knows what, to which you and Jake immediately put down on the nearest table after Jay walks away to greet the next incoming guests (you know, to not hurt his feelings). 

You and Jake are lucky enough to have been around Jay and his parties long enough to know that going all out at these parties will not be pretty the next morning.

You cringe at the memory of last year, when you had to suffer from possibly the worst hangover of all hangovers after one of Jay’s parties. Jake will never let you forget how miserable you looked the next morning. His camera roll’s album titled “y/n blackmail pics” can vouch for that.

“Remind me again to never listen to you,” you almost have to shout at Jake over the thumping music. Jake laughs at your comment and tugs at your hand as he begins entering the house.

The two of you do your rounds of greetings to the people you know...and random underclassmen who you swear you have never seen before but somehow made it to this party. You’ve always questioned how Jay’s invite list worked. Maybe there isn’t one. That would explain how it looked like someone announced Jay was giving out free Teslas and the entire school got hold of the news. 

“Thank god you guys are here,” you hear a voice come from behind the two of you as you guys leave the main room to enter the house’s smaller, but just as luxurious looking, den. You turn to see Heeseung with Sunghoon following closely behind, trying his best not to get swept away in the crowd of people. 

The den is where you usually stayed during these parties. It’s not like there are rules of where people are allowed to party, by any means, but it’s like how a high-school’s cafeteria worked. There’s a mutual silent agreement of where everyone goes, and the den is where the party host and his friends went.  

“Okay, is it just me, or is tonight’s party just a little...too..much?” Sunghoon asks as the four of you take your seats on the main couch of the room. Jake’s quick to make space for you next to him as you go to sit, but to his surprise, you find your home right on his lap. 

“You said be convincing right?” you say into his ear as you settle yourself. Right. That’s totally why. Because you had to go along with the ruse. Obviously. 

You shift a bit so you’re more facing sideways, not blocking off Jake’s line of vision as the boy himself is..well, calling him a rag doll might be excessive. 

But he’s sure he looks like one right now, having lost all senses in his limbs, leaving him frozen underneath you. 

Jake Sim is the epitome of politeness. He was raised in a family that taught him how to respectfully greet others, how to always offer food to others before eating it himself, how to properly treat a significant other. As a result, Jake grew up to be one of the sweetest, kindest, purest people to ever walk this earth. 

(Relatively speaking, the earth is large, but so is Jake’s heart.) 

But human-beings aren’t perfect, they must have a balance. A balance of pros and cons. 

Sure, he can’t pack his own lunch and sometimes forgets to water the little succulent you gifted him that’s currently seated on his window sill. Sure, sometimes he’s too sweet for his own good, you know, like willing-to-be-your-fake-boyfriend too sweet. But aside from the minor details, Jake Sim doesn’t have many cons, no. 

But he sure can be awkward. 

And so because Jake Sim is sweet, kind, pure, and awkward, he is unsure of what to do with himself when you’re seated right on top of him. 

As if you could read his befuddled mind, you take his arm that’s resting behind you to wrap around your waist as your support as you throw one of your arms around his shoulder. And throughout this entire adjustment, his widened eyes are staring right at you. 

Bless this pure, pure boy. 

Also bless the position you’re in, blocking the two other boys from directly seeing Jake’s face. Because if they were to catch glimpse of Jake’s expression right now, your cover might be blown, just like that. You’re lucky Heeseung and Sunghoon are distracted by another classmate who came up to them. 

“Relax,” you sweetly laugh, cupping his chin with your free hand and lightly squeezing his cheeks. “You’re so adorably awkward.” 

Jake pouts at you. “I am not awkward!” 

“Right, and I’m totally dating you for real,” you playfully whisper at him, eliciting a poke at your waist in response. 

Twenty minutes of people-watching-aka-“who do you think is gonna pass out first?”-from-your-spot-on-the-couch later, the four of you draw your attention to the rowdy party host you all have the honor of calling your friend––aka Jay––dancing (that is, if you call wildly swinging your limbs in all four directions dancing) in the middle of the den. 

"Oh god, look at him," Sunghoon voices from besides you.

Heeseung's already filming the moment on his phone. Ah yes, technology. The best thing to ever happen to drunk teens' friends.  

"He's so wasted," you throw your head back as you let out a laugh. “We should help the kid out.” 

Poor Jay. He's not gonna hear the end of it after tonight.

"I don't know why he thinks these parties are such a good idea when he knows how trashed he's gonna be when he wakes up," Jake says, his hand naturally squeezing your waist as you giggle at his comment. "And how trashed the house will be."  

Jay slumbers over to where the four of you are seated, and abruptly stops right in front of the couch.

"My best friends!" Jay happily cheers. “Having fun?” 

“Watching you? Always,” you say to the boy who’s squeezing into a seat between you and Sunghoon, as if the small couch wasn’t already suffocating enough (and that’s with you on Jake’s lap). 

“But for real though, you should probably lay off the drinks for now,” Heeseung insists. “For all our sakes.” 

Sunghoon nods along and grabs the cup Jay’s currently nursing and sets it down where it’s out of Jay’s reach, much to his dismay. But the disappointment quickly leaves the dazed boy’s head, as his attention is now directed towards you and Jake. 

“Well if it isn’t mom and dad,” Jay turns to face you and Jake, certainly amused by your seating arrangement. 

“You know–” Jay points a finger at the two of you. “For a couple that’s certainly close, I haven’t seen you two kiss.” 

Jake is immediately coughing, certainly not expecting that to come out of his friend’s mouth. 

“Okay and your point is?” Jake frowns at Jay. If Jay wasn’t tipsy, Jake would’ve smacked the back of his head by now. 

“I’m just saying...” the blonde responds, both hands up in the air as if Jake is accusing him of something, when in was, in fact, the opposite. “But nevermind, Jakey boy here is probably too innocent for such nonsense anyways.” 

Yes, it’s confirmed. Once Jay sobers up tomorrow, Jake is driving over to his house (even though it’s a good ten minute drive from his own) just to smack him. 

“What do you mean I’m too–” 

Jake doesn’t finish his sentence. In fact, Jake doesn’t even remember what he was going to say. 

Jake doesn’t think nor feel anything else other than your lips planted on his. 

You’re pulling him in close, your hands cupping his face as his own are twitching on your waist, his mind flustered. You move your hands from his face to his neck, to which Jake immediately relaxes at. 

Sure, you two are in the middle of a dumb high-school party, one filled with pounding music and shouting teenagers, but right now, in this moment, Jake can only feel you. And he doesn’t want the feeling to ever stop. 

When you part, Jake’s eyes flicker from your eyes to your lips, his own parted in shock. He thinks he might pass out right here and now. He thinks his heart might explode right here and now. He thinks he might lov-

“Happy?” you turn to a satisfied Jay, ignoring the looks of amusement from Heesung and Sunghoon besides him. 

“Well,” you pat Jake’s leg as you get up from your spot. “I’m gonna get us some drinks. Punch only, of course.” 

Jake’s eyes are on you as you walk away, his face tinted pink from the adrenaline of it all, his heart racing. 

Jake thinks back to three days ago, when he told himself that this idea of yours was going to be all fine. After all, it was only going to be for one week. Afterwards, he can move on with his life as if nothing happened. 

But fast forward 72 hours later, 72 hours after you and Jake started this act, 72 hours after Jake told himself it’ll be all fine, Jake knows he was poorly mistaken.

Because 72 hours later, in the middle of a party that reeked of the combined smell of alcohol and sweat, Jake knows one thing and one thing for sure.

He never wants to move on from the feeling of being with you. He never wants to move on from this.

From you. 

He’s screwed. 

Saturday, December 12th 

When Jake wakes up, much later than he intended to, on Saturday morning, the first sensation he feels are his tingling lips, still in disbelief that they graced your own last night. 

The second sensation being his pounding mind––it’s running through ten million thoughts at a time, telling him no last night wasn’t a dream. 

Third: his heart beating so fast at the thought of you, he thinks he might beat out of his chest.

And fourth, a buzzing noise. 

Jake blindly flounders his arm to the table beside him in hopes of finding the origin of the annoying sound, aka, his phone. 

After knocking down multiple miscellaneous items on his nightstand (he makes a mental note to clean his room later), he successfully retrieves the item of search. 

Jake squints at the bright screen, mind still cloudy from a mix of 1) being half-asleep, and 2) still processing what happened the night before. 

y/n [11:10AM]: r u awake yet? 

y/n [11:22AM]: imma take that as a no

y/n [11:35AM]: lemme know when ur up 

jake [11:44AM]: just woke up sorry 

jake [11:44AM]: are you okay? what’s up

y/n [11:45AM]: r u busy? 

y/n [11:45AM]: kinda wanted to talk abt smth

jake [11:45AM]: uh well no im still in bed lmao

y/n [11:46AM]: cool im outside your door 

Jake’s eyes widen as he processes your last few texts. 

Talk? Outside his door? 

Jake’s heart is nervously pounding as jumps out of bed and quickly puts on the first plaid flannel he finds. He scrambles to his mirror and gives his reflection a quick run-down. 

He’s sporting your his favorite hoodie underneath the flannel that’s long overdue a wash and his tousled hair has seen better days, but he couldn't care less. 

Before his mind can catch up to his actions, he’s rushing down the stairs, skipping two at a time and to this front door. Because he didn’t want to keep you waiting? Because he was too excited to see you? Maybe a mix of both. Definitely more of the latter, however. 

He quickly runs a hand through his hair to try to fix it up as much as he can, to no avail, before opening the door to reveal you, sitting on the steps of his front porch. 

“y/n,” he’s breathing heavily as you turn to greet him with your sweet smile he didn’t even realize he was missing. Is it possible to miss someone overnight? Jake concludes yes, it definitely is. 

“Did you run down here or something?,” you question his out-of-breath state, a teasing tone laces the tip of your tongue. 

“Or something,” Jake mutters as he closes the front door behind him to join you on the steps when you make no sign of moving. “Have you been out here all morning?” 

“Not allll morning. I had a feeling you’d sleep in so I came around the time I first texted you. Would’ve knocked but didn’t wanna bother your family,” you hum, keeping your eyes trained on the peaceful scenery around you. 

You’ve always loved Jake’s neighborhood, it brought you a sense of peace, a sense of home. 

Or was that because it reminded you of Jake? 

“You could never be a bother,” he quickly rebuttals as he takes his seat next to you on the steps. 

You respond with a soft smile before turning your attention back to anything other than the boy next to you. Your mind seems to be lost in its own thoughts, Jake can tell by the distant look in your eyes. 

The sound of birds chirping in the distance fills the silence that falls between the two of you. 

Any other day, Jake would love this. He savors every second he’s with you, even if it’s just pure silence. 

But this silence was different. It wasn’t the usual comforting, warm silence that the two of you share on a typical day. This one held tension, tension so thick that Jake doesn’t know where to begin thinking. 

But here’s the thing. Jake doesn’t think. 

Not when it comes to you. 

He takes a deep breath. Rubs his hands together. Pats them on his lap. Turns towards you. 

“Look, I-” 

“I think I might like you.” The words come out of your mouth so fast, Jake’s positive he heard you wrong the first time around. 

He whips his head to meet your eyes, your own already staring back at him, your bottom lip nervously tucked under your teeth. 

“No, I––I do. I know I do. I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to tell you and I don’t think I’m doing a very good job right now,” the words are all of the sudden tumbling out of your mouth as if your brain flipped a switch and isn’t able to turn it off. “In hindsight, I should’ve known better to fake date my own best friend. But these past few days made me realize how much I love being with you. And not like how I’m always with you 24/7 before this entire thing started, but being with you. I even started getting that weird, bubbly feeling in my stomach every time I so much as heard your name. And then last night at the party, I realized afterwards that I wouldn’t have kissed you if some part of me didn’t see you in that way. Even if it meant Jay would’ve been on our asses all night if I didn’t. So yeah.” 

You finish with a deep breath and look up at him to meet his widened eyes. Silence.

Jake thought he was braindead during last week’s history quiz. Jake thought he was braindead when he had to cram a semester’s worth of chemistry content the night before his exam. Heck, Jake thought he was braindead when you first told him about your idea of a fake dating him. But no, this is braindead.

He’s finally hearing what he’s been dreaming of for so long, and of all times, now his brain decides to shut off.  

“Are you..uh..are you gonna say anything?” You’re nervously fumbling with your hands, desperate to distract yourself with anything else apart from his silent stare. 

"Why are you sorry?" Jake says before his mind can think of anything else. He doesn't pay attention to his thumping heart that's one look-from-you away from exploding right then and there. "You didn't do anything wrong. If anything, you took the words right out of my mouth.” 

Now you're staring at him with the wide eyes, the words processing in your mind.

Jake realizes he's waited too long to do this. A few years too long. He also realizes he shouldn't have put on that extra layer of a flannel. The nervous tension created by the two of you was suffocating enough, and being outside under the bright sun didn’t help. 

"I like you too. God y/n, I like you too so much," Jake doesn't even care if his words are all sorts of messed up right now. He just needs you to get the idea. "I have for a while now.” 

You let out a relieved sigh, ecstasy rushing through your blood. “Really? I think I have for a while too. I’m so stupid, it took me so long to realize it. It didn’t hit me until I realized how I felt around you, compared to the guy I’m supposed to actually have a crush on.” 

Jake lets out a laugh, the tension immediately dissolving. “Hey, if it wasn’t for Sunghoon, I don’t think we’d be here right now.” 

“You’re right, I’m too oblivious and you’re too awkward to actually make a move,” you wink at him. If his heart wasn’t fluttering at the sight of you, on his porch on a Saturday morning, confessing your feelings to him, Jake probably would’ve lightly shoved you away. 

Instead, he’s turning to you with the most endeared look on his face, and you’re blushing underneath his gaze.

“What? Stare much?” You giggle, quoting the boy himself as you shyly duck your head to avoid his stare. 

Jake gently grabs your chin to tilt your face towards his, and before you can process what’s happening, he suddenly meets your lips with his own, closing the gap between you two. 

Jake thinks if the ground underneath him right now decided to open up and swallow him whole, he’d die happily. 

Jake smiles against you, feeling comfort in ways he’ll never be able to achieve without you. 

Your hands instinctively find their way into his hair, as one of his rests below your ear, thumb softly caressing your cheek, the other pulling you in by the waist. He’s naturally leaning into you, gravitating towards your warmth, unable to stop the giddy feeling bubbling in his stomach. 

He doesn’t think the feeling will ever go away. 

When you pull away to catch your breath, you rest your head against the nook of his neck, basking in his presence as his arms both find their way around your waist. You sigh in pleasure. 

“Remember at the beginning of all of this, when you told me ‘Just try not to fall in love with me?’” Jake gently says. Jake feels the slight nod you give against his shoulder as you hum in response. 

Jake whispers two more words into your ear, filling you with happiness and warmth you know you won’t be able to find through anyone––or anything––else. 

“Too late.” 

✰ if you made it ‘til the end, ily :’))))) 

[uravichii]

bnha characters as swifties ~

— you convert them into swifties and there's no going back

characters: bakugo katsuki, todoroki shouto, yaoyorozu momo, jirou kyouka

warnings: swearing (bakugo's part)

notes: i don't know what came over me when i decided to write this,, happy 1 year of folklore ig ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

- bakugo katsuki -

katsuki would only know the name 'taylor swift'

he knows she's some famous celebrity, but he has no idea what she's known for : /

when you first introduce him to her discography, you started with her debut album and 'fearless.'

he didn't like it :') he said it was way too cheesy

katsuki also criticized how inaccurate love story was because romeo and juliet didn't end that way : |

he also despised the "shitty country music" pls never play 'our song' when he's nearby, he'll absolutely destroy whatever it is you're playing it from.

you then introduced him to the most successful album, 1989, hoping he'd at least give it a chance

no, he thought it was "hella annoying" 🙄

"YOU'RE TELLING ME 'ALL YOU HAD TO DO WAS STAY' AND 'I WISH YOU WOULD' AREN'T THE SAME FUCKING SONG? FUCK OFF."

but you persevere— you introduced more tracks, explained the lyrics to him, and you forced him to watch the reputation stadium tour on netflix.

he won't admit it openly, but he LOVES reputation.

he loves the new sound, the darker theme, and how edgy and angry it is.

his favorite songs are 'i did something bad' and 'don't blame me'

but he also secretly falls asleep to 'new year's day' 🥺

folklore enraged him in a good way,,

"FUCK JAMES, AUGUSTINE DESERVES BETTER."

and for the album red, "FUCK JAKE GYLLENHAAL, TAYLOR DESERVED BETTER."

this man will make a stan twitter account and demand a punk rock era from tswift because katsuki knows the queen is ✨versatile✨ and she can definitely thrive with a new sound like that 😌

- todoroki shouto -

"taylor swift??? what year and class is she in?"

"shouto— "

you need to present this boy a whole powerpoint presentation,, he badly needs it.

at first, he wouldn't mind the lyrics, he pays more attention to how it sounds.

he likes the mellow ones like 'begin again' 'untouchable' and most tracks from both sister albums, 'folklore' and 'evermore'

for some reason, he loved taylor's country music. those were actually the first songs he added to his playlist.

"it's a bop." he says this with a straight face and a monotonous voice 😐

then, you urged him to read and take in the lyrics, and shouto LOVED her as an artist a lot more.

he definitely cried to 'never grow up' :(((( he can't listen to it again though because he's afraid the song will lose its meaning if it was played too much.

he also appreciates 'seven' a lot. 'tolerate it' and 'soon you'll get better' reminded him of his mother :((

also, he always plays 'mad woman' when endeavor's nearby 💀

he turns up the volume when taylor sings, "does she smile... or does she mouth "fuck you forever. ~ "

he'd definitely buy a lot of merch from taylor, and he was very dismayed when the cardigans sold out before he got to buy one :(

he is very excited for red (taylor's version) and even marked november 19th on his calendar >:)

- yaoyorozu momo -

momo listened to taylor swift a lot when she was younger. she loved singing along to the album, 'fearless'

but she eventually phased out from her songs, not for any particular reason though.

she knows the famous singles like 'shake it off' and 'blank space' and she's mostly neutral about it.

so you force her back into the fandom by having her listen to her whole discography >:)

momo LOVES 'folklore' and 'evermore' this woman will break down the lyrics, analyze it, and upload long-ass essays about them.

"the lyrics are just absolutely exquisite! it's amazing how she manages to use a different sound each album and pull it of :)) you have my deepest gratitude, y/n for having me listen to such a beautiful masterpiece!"

she'll never stop gushing over the jamez-betty-augustine drama. she'll definitely be empathetic towards each one, but she does love augustine the most 😔

she understands james too though and loves 'this is me trying' :') she's not sure if she likes the song 'betty' tho 😧

you'd get under a blanket with momo and cry to 'champagne problems' and 'tolerate it' for fun.

"such a heartbreaking story..." she sniffles into a napkin.

momo was also inspired to write poems because of the two sister albums.

i don't think she'd be interested in taylor's dating life, but she does think it's amazing how you're able to witness the artist's growth by just listening to the songs she writes over the years :))

- jirou kyouka -

"of course i know taylor swift..." she looks to the side sheepishly. "i don't really like her."

"😦"

kyouka unfortunately thinks taylor swift is overrated </3

you can't really blame her though because apparently, she only knew her singles 😃 specifically, 'we are never going back together,' 'blank space, 'shake it off,' and 'ME!'

she says they're catchy but she doesn't really understand the hype.

so you make her understand >:)

you start with lover which later became her favorite album along with reputation and red.

she looves 'cruel summer' and she's angry that it wasn't a single in the album, she also loves the song, 'lover' she won't admit it but she thinks it's incredibly sweet and it makes her want to have a lovelife like taylor's.

she also loves 'the man' and she also sings the bridge of 'death by a thousand cuts' EVERYDAY.

kyouka will also make her own covers of taylor's older songs,, she'll make a cover of 'sparks fly' that sounds edgier. it sounds amazing 😌

she'll lie on her bed, and probably cry to 'superstar' thinking how sweet it would be if someone wrote a song about her like that :((

folklore and evermore aren't her favorites, but she adores the writing so much that it influenced hers.

kyouka will write a song for you out of gratitude for making her listen to the queen, miss swift 😌

[shurisneakers]

shut in [1]

Summary: When your high profile mission goes terribly wrong, you’re forced to hide in a safehouse with a man you’ve never met before. With seemingly nowhere else to go, you’re forced to work together to figure out who is trying to have you assassinated before it’s too late. (Sam Wilson x Gender Neutral Reader)

Warnings: cursing, violence, guns, death

Word count: 3.2k

A/N: greetings. i have returned with a series that i have actually finished writing beforehand so i just have to post the chapters and yes this means i will not let this go incomplete  shoutout to my bitch @midnightsunfae​ for putting up w me mwah lov u if i’ve completely butchered sam’s character, tell me so i can delete my entire account pls and thanks 

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Shut In Masterlist || Main Masterlist

“Alexander Pierce.” The file fell on the table with a resounding thud.

“What about him?”

“I want him dead.”

The house stood tall; obnoxious, almost, with loud embellishments of gold. It screamed wealth spent lavishly and without any reasonable thought.

Also it was ugly.

You scaled the gate, landing on the gravel silently. There were no security measures that you could see beyond the automated entry and CCTV whose light wasn’t blinking. Must have been a power outage. An unlikely coincidence, but it just made your job easier.

You made a move towards the side of the house, staying close to the trees that lined the driveway, out of the direct line of sight of the house’s front door. 

His car was parked outside; a swanky looking race car kept outside just for show. He was definitely at home.

A window at the side of the mansion was left slightly ajar. A quick sweep up the side of the house proved that the rest of them were shut.

Your eyebrow quirked up in suspicion, quickly taking a look around to see if you were being watched. For a few seconds the world didn’t seem to move, eerily silent other than the rustling of leaves.

Pierce was clearly the flagbearer of home security.

You stuffed your gun into the waistband of your pants, freeing both your hands to tug yourself into the room.

Your gun found its way into your hand once more as you scanned the room. He wasn’t on the bed. You deemed the silence as an indicator to safely to move ahead. 

So far it seemed easy.

Too easy?

Ransone’s body was spread across his chair, leisurely stroking at his stubble. His other hand thrummed rhythmically at the timber in front of him. His eyes were glazed over; physically present but mind wandering elsewhere.

You waited for him to explain further, knowing better than to interrupt his train of thought.

He had the strangest penchant for drama and theatre. From what you could gather of the dim light in the room and his stance, he had just watched The Godfather. Again.

“Do you know how long it took me to build this business?” His words sounded like a musing, akin to a private thought he was letting you in on. “This empire, Y/N?”

“Twenty three years.” Your arms were crossed behind you, a sign of discipline he demanded from all members of the organisation. 

“And I haven’t gotten there by being the neighbourhood church boy.” He gestured to one of the two men beside him, a rifle strung across their back at the ready. One of them-- Rumlow--  stepped forward, lighting a cigar and handing it to him.

He took a long drag, taking his time to exhale, flicking at the cigar to get rid of the loose ash. If he just got to the point, you could have left about twenty minutes ago.

“I’ve done terrible things,” he admitted, “but you know? I won’t be blamed for them. A bit of collateral damage was inevitable.”

His chair swayed from side to side as his feet thumped at the table. It annoyed you endlessly. You never told him.

“And you know how I feel about collateral damage, right?”

“Show no mercy.”

The house was silent, except for the faint sound of the television some distance away. You wouldn’t have been able to see if not for the moonlight that illuminated the space through the large windows.

Your gun pressed tightly to your side, you made your way down the open hallway. As you passed by the kitchen, the ticking of the timer on the oven made you pause. The oven itself wasn’t on but the clock was still ticking.

A bowl was kept on the marble island separating the rest of the hall from the kitchen. A pair of car keys lay mangled among a couple of dollar bills and loose change like he threw it in carelessly. 

Continuing further down the hall, you came to the realisation that it culminated in a room that faced his backyard. Only a single glass sheet acted as a barrier between him and the outdoors.

You could hear the show getting louder, hidden from your line of sight by the couch in front of it.

Pierce’s head faced away from you and towards the only light source in the room. He hadn’t heard you come in.

From what you could see, he was asleep. Head slumped slightly, arm slinked over the backrest and no other movement.

It wasn’t actually a TV, just an iPad on its loudest setting with Netflix playing what looked like Horrible Bosses. A man with exquisite taste, obviously.

You took one step at a time, slowly making your way towards the couch until you were just a step or two behind him. You raised your arm, pressing your gun to the back of his head.

“Show no mercy,” he repeated, the corner of his mouth turning upward as he looked at you.

You wanted to shift under his stare. Your muscles were beginning to feel a dull burn, a sign that you had been standing still for too long. 

“So tell me, after all my effort-” he stuck his bottom lip out mockingly- “should I let my fucking company get destroyed by one person?”

His hand harshly slammed down on the table as he lurched forward in his chair, eyes seething.

You nearly jumped at his sudden change in demeanour, knuckles tightening in anticipation.

“Tell me, boys, how far do I tolerate liars?” His stare didn’t waver, looking straight into your eyes.

“You don’t.” Their voices were eerily synchronised. You wondered if they ever rehearsed together. Probably did.

“Lovely.” Ransone smiled, leaning back in his chair. “I don’t.”

“Liars?” Your voice had risen by an octave or two, your surprise catching you off guard.

“Someone has been sneaking information to Serpentine for nearly two years.” A chill ran down your spine, the muscles in your jaw tightening. “They’ve been growing exponentially and someone’s been helpin’ them do it.”

Only someone didn’t fear death would turn their back on him. Someone who had nothing to lose.

“We have reason to believe it’s Pierce.”

A moment passed where you expected him to wake up, turn around and look at you so that you could deliver Ransone’s message to him, a quippy one liner about betrayal or something.

But he didn’t.

Instead, his head shifted under the pressure of your gun, falling over as if it was weightless.

Your face pulled into a frown as you made your way to the front of the couch swiftly, gun still held tightly in front of you.

Your shadow dimmed the light that fell on him from the iPad, but it was impossible to deny.

A single gunshot to the front of his head. Eyes wide open, red from the lack of moisture. The blood around him painted a gory scene that was impossible to notice from behind.

“What the-” you murmured, lowering your arm.

“I can tolerate one mistake. Everyone deserves that.” Ransone shrugged offhandedly. “But this isn’t the first one he’s made.”

“So you want him gone.”

“That would be lovely, yes.” He relaxed into his chair once again, taking another hit from his cigar.

“Why do you want me to do it?” you asked, eyebrows knitted together. Generally he would send you for something more high-profile. Raids, infiltrations. These kinds of hits were what you left behind years ago.

“A spy has security from the ones they’re working for. It’s possibly more dangerous.” His feet found its way onto the table, one over the other as he stretched back. “And I’m not sure my other agent can make it.”

“Thanks,” you spoke monotonously. “Glad to know I’m your first choice.”

“Don’t take it personally.” He dismissed it with a wave of his hand. “He probably won’t show.” 

His sleeve fell slightly to reveal a sliver of his tattoo. A spider, the symbol of his authority.

Each of his employees had a web inked on their skin that grew with each passing year of their service. It was how you identified each other in passing.

“You have an opening on Friday. His house help leaves at 8 sharp and he’s alone.”

You nodded, picking up the file in front of him, avoiding his fingers that had returned to thrumming on the tabletop. You acknowledged the two men beside him before making your way toward the door.

This house was all the way across the country. No wonder he gave you a bit more time as compared to usual to prepare.

“It’ll be done.”

The sound of a gun clicking away from you made the hair on your neck stand up.

You sprung up, arms extended in front of you instinctively towards the sound.

Even in the dim light of the room, you could see a man standing a few feet away from you. His hand held a glock, aimed towards you.

Neither of you said a word. Time stood still for all you cared. The only indication that it didn’t was that Horrible Bosses was still playing.

“Who the fuck are you?” you finally asked, voice surprisingly calm for the adrenaline that was spiking through your body.

“Who are you?” he questioned in retaliation, tone curt.

“I asked first.” You wondered if he could see you roll your eyes.

He didn’t reply, obviously.

A beat passed and you almost forgot the dead body that lay near your knees. Almost. It didn’t help that his fingers were nearly touching your leg like some kind of pervert; not that you could blame him for it this time.

“Did you kill him?” he finally relented, mentioning towards him quickly with a tug of his shoulder.

“What-” You recoiled, head slightly jerking back in disbelief. “No. Didn’t you?”

“He was like this when I got here.” He paused, and you let him speak. “And then you came in; thought you were comin’ back to check.”

“I just got here.”

“I can’t confirm that.” His answer was instantaneous, almost cutting you off before you finished.

“And I can’t confirm you didn’t kill him.” You took a step away from Pierce, never breaking his gaze. “The odds are kinda against you here.”

“I didn’t kill him.” He only took a step toward you, making you stop where you were. He wasn’t going to let you get out of this.

“What a compelling argument,” you drawled sarcastically. “Then what are you doing here?”

“Cookin’ him dinner,” he snapped back quickly in a manner that would usually make you smile if it weren’t for the situation you were in presently. “What do you think?”

“Who sent you?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“Why did they send you?”

“I can’t tell you that either.”

“Then give me a reason why I shouldn’t pull this trigger right now.”

“You first.”

It was a shame you had to kill him. You found his resilience fun.

“Well, it was pleasant-” You were cut off by the sound of a bullet whizzing past your head. It struck the vase next to the couch, instantly exploding into hundreds of shards.

“Did you just fucking shoot at me?” you yelled, swiftly raising your gun so that it was pointed at his forehead.

But he wasn’t looking at you. He was looking at the large glass, too distracted to pay heed to what you were saying.

You slowly followed his line of sight to the window.

A large fracture in the glass surrounded a small hole, nearly invisible from your distance if you weren’t looking hard enough.

You looked back at him to find him staring at you.

A split second later the glass sheet shattered, sending the pieces all over the room. You launched yourself behind the couch heavily, avoiding the barrage of bullets being shot your way.

From the corner of your eye you could see the man dive to take cover behind the couch with you.

“What the fuck?” you asked loudly, back pressed against the backrest as various items shattered around you. “Who the hell are these guys?”

“The shittiest bodyguards ever.” He looked over his shoulder but slid back down again when a shot nearly missed his face.

You didn’t even know where to shoot; the bullets just seemed to be coming from the shadows of the trees.

Taking a moment to assess the man breathing hard next to you. He was tall and muscular, a tight fighting shirt stretching across his chest. His hair was cropped, eyes dark with what looked like irritation more than anger. Hot.

Your attention was drawn to a trail of blood left on his forehead as he wiped at it with his forearm, him seemingly unaware of it.

“Dude, I think you got grazed.”

He looked at you questioningly. You pointed at his arm with your shoulder. His eyes dropped to it, letting out a string of curses as he tugged his sleeve back to look at the wound.

He didn’t have to pull it back much before the sight of a familiar design greeted you.

A spider web. Drawn intricately with the lines stretching delicately across his skin like lace.

A tattoo.

“You work for Ransone?” None of this made sense. Why were there two of you on the same mission? Who was this guy? Was he supposed to be here?

You didn’t wait for his answer, pulling your sleeve back to reveal the same tattoo, smaller in size, but indicative enough.

He took a second to process. You could almost see the gears turning in his head.

“Great,” he finally said as a bullet lodged itself in the wall you were facing, bitterness lacing his words. “It’s a set up.”

“Oh, one more thing, Y/N.”

You spun on your heel to look at him. A devilish smile grew on his face.

“Remember- we don’t tolerate liars.”

You stared at him, not uttering a word, waiting for him to make his point.

“So make sure you let him know that.” His smile only grew as you turned around and walked out the door, letting it shut behind you.

The crunching of feet over glass made you look over your shoulder, only to quickly retract before your head was blown off.

They were wearing ski masks and all black tactical suits, leaving not even an inch of their skin uncovered.

“I count four or five. There may be more,” the man next to you said slowly.

“You take the ones on the left, I’ll take right,” you instructed, seeing him nod his head. You didn’t even know his name but apparently you were working together now. 

You gave a small countdown before pivoting on your knee to face them, eyes already set on your target.

Firing off two shots, you saw the first one fall to the floor, soon accompanied by his teammate as you shot a round at his forehead.

Four were down, counting the bodies next to them on the floor, but the bullets didn’t stop firing at you. They clearly were in a much larger number than you anticipated.

You weren’t sure how many more bullets the couch could absorb. The both of you were basically sitting ducks; who knew how many more were out there. You had limited ammo because you didn’t expect a fucking SWAT team when you came to kill one man.

“We need to go,” he voiced your exact concern.

“Yep,” you grunted, shifting to reload your gun from the spare ammo in your pocket.

You didn’t know how to get out of here considering that you didn’t bring your own-

“I got a plan,” you said. He looked at you inquisitively. “You know the window in the west bedroom, hall dead-end?”

He nodded. Perhaps he was the one who left it open when he arrived.

“On the count of three, make a run for it.” You winced as a bullet tore through the fabric of the couch, right near where your shoulder was a second ago.

“We can’t outrun them,” he hissed, quickly shooting behind him before rejoining you on the floor.

“Trust me.” Bold ask. You wondered if he would.

“I don’t.”

“Do it anyway.”

You didn’t really care if he didn’t. At least you’d get out.

“One.” You shifted to sit on your knee. You could see him sit still, not joining you.

“Two.” Your gun was pressed to your side, at the ready.

“Three.” Like an athlete in a race you took off, not daring to look behind you even once as shots rode the air, narrowly missing your body.

You almost didn’t hear his groan and a small “Fuckin’ hell” before heavy footsteps ran behind you.

You smiled triumphantly, until you remembered the both of you were being followed, at least four more shooters hot on your heels.

You shot a single shot behind you, hearing someone wheeze before a loud thump of a body hitting the floor. Hopefully it wasn’t the guy you were with, but you couldn’t find it in your to care much if it was.

You raced past the numerous rooms you passed on the way here before it suddenly widened into the open kitchen.

Your body moved in autopilot, a detour in the form of a quick skip as you reached over and grabbed the contents of the bowl on the counter, fumbling to hold onto the car keys as loose change fell to the floor.

The oven timer went off, not for long before you heard its door splinter into pieces as someone shot at it in annoyance.

You took a sharp right into the room, followed by the man who took the time to kick the door shut behind him, buying you maybe a second or two of time.

You nearly flung yourself out of the window, the gravel not exactly providing the softest landing as you scrambled to open the door of the car.

“Get in!” you yelled at him as he obliged, yanking the door and jumping into the passenger seat. You threw the few dollars you had caught hold of by mistake on the floor of the car.

You could hear the door of the room being kicked open, and what seemed like angry shouting as the window cracked, leaving nothing in its wake.

You revved the engine, slamming the accelerator with as much power as you could. The car lurched backwards, and you cursed, switching gears to go forward. 

The harsh sound of metal on metal followed you as they shot at whatever they could. You prayed they wouldn’t accidentally hit the wheel or gas tank. They didn’t exactly seem like the best in the business, having missed most of their shots. 

“Go go go!” The guy beside you was holding on to his seat tightly for support.

The car broke through the rusty gates. You cringed at the dent on the hood, but didn’t slow down even for a second as you wove through trees of the estate, not losing speed even as you got onto the highway.

Silence befell the both of you for a good amount of time, but not enough time to process what had just happened. Your adrenaline was still high as you drove well above the speed limit. 

Your next step was unclear.

You were in a car with a complete stranger. You weren’t sure if you were injured somewhere. You didn’t even know where you were driving to.

“Alright,” he cleared his throat. “What the hell was that?

Part 2

[b612sunsets]

Ahhh I’m happy to see someone else loving The Devil Judge - it truly is amazing 😭😭🖤✨ I love Yo-Han and Ga-on’s relationship I swear let them be destructive together!

I hate waiting for new episodes so please tell me one of your theories, it can be about anything! 🥰

Right?! I love it so much, it's really good to have our lilttle fam getting bigger, can't wait until it airs on Netflix, we will have even more people going crazy about it in here! (at least I hope it will become a Netflix series after the show ends like Beyon Evil - another love of mine) and yes, lawful husbands can be destructive together but only to the bad people pls 🥺

It's tough waiting for new episodes every weekend and at the same time I wish for it not to end so soon. It hasn't finished but I already want Jisung and Jinyoung in a second season or working together in another drama. Their chemistry on screen is too good to stop there

About the theories, there's a few I saw on reddit/twitter and I make my own based on it and after watching every episode, but I think it's too early to talk about them. However, since you requested it, there's some that come to mind as interesting enough to mention.

The fire and the story behind it narrated by Yohan

1- Some people think Yohan did start the fire because he found out about the dirty politicians real intentions and decided to destroy them all in the same place before Isaac could donate the money bc he is "a devil" and capable of that since he was a kid as told by the priest with the school incident and the nanny with the maid and dog thing. side note: not for pranking some kids who bullied him because that's all it seems like, right? But in terms of observing, thinking strategically and being one step ahead when needing to punish the whole classroom who wronged him even as young as he was and feeling satisfied while watching the result and staying out of it. A type of mentality probably encouraged by Isaac and the books he gave him to read, unlike a regular kid who would just fight back or endure it. And we still have to see if it really was Yohan that contributed to the maid's death or if it was something/someone else and the nanny thinks it was him.

They think that Elijah even saw him in front of the door right before the fire started and smiled at him instead of smiling at her parents, like she did in the gates of the cathedral in the previous scene, so that's why she hates him so much now because she can remember seeing him as the responsible for it. But Yohan didn't intend to kill/hurt Isaac and the rest of the family, thinking he could save them or something, and felt guilty that he couldn't do so. Some even said that Yohan delayed too much in trying to save them after entering the church and seeing Elijah getting her legs hurt, that it may have been shock but why would he remember everything and everyone so clearly if he was in shock?

It's a good theory but I have my own remarks: why wouldn't he tell Isaac about the politicians himself if he knew the dirty about them then? They had a close relationship and Isaac gave him books about punishment and everything, it wasn't like Isaac was too naive and wouldn't believe his half-brother. He wouldn't have donated if Yohan told him. "Oh he was being the devil and finding a way to punish them instead of just letting is slide and not donating" still, Yohan wouldn't risk Isaac and Elijah with such a dangerous plan if he could avoid having Isaac and Elijah at all in the destruction scene by telling Isaac about it. It could have been shock and Yohan wanting to look and commit to mind everyone's face in that day responsible for hurting his niece and not caring about anyone else but themselves, pushing him away and delaying his attempt to get to them in time, leaving Isaac and the family behind (after they almost donated them their money) and things like that. So he can avenge them now, like he did in the school with the kids. That's why as soon as he could, he canceled the donation in the most easy way by saying his brother wasn't sane enough to make that decision before dying.

There's also the theories about Isaac being the insane/evil one, which wouldn't surprise me because I've considered it since episode 3 but at the same time I'll not be touching that topic now and I don't know if I ever will unless proven otherwise in some other episode

2- The other theory I have and saw people discussing (the one I'm most inclined to believe because I'm Yohan biased but again it's too soon to be sure) is that the story Yohan narrated is mostly if not completely true and he experiences extreme guilt for not coming back and saving Isaac when the church collapsed on him, as seen in the character introduction by tvN translated in this tweet that we now know it's about Isaac:

The last words Yohan said to Isaac was that he was going to come back for him, so he experiences nightmares like the flashbacks we saw in episode 1 and that's why we don't see any scene of Isaac in the middle of the church after the fire staring at Yohan or during the fire and turning to stare directly at Yohan when he narrates it. Because they're dreams and his guilty conscience and he remembers them when looking at Gaon. The flashback of Yohan kneeling down and touching Isaac with Elijah's bear close to him could be after he got Elijah out from there and he went back to put the bear next to him kinda like a "Sorry for not coming back in time", a reassurance that his daughter for whom he died for is safe and will always stay with him, a "Goodbye". He wouldn't just let Isaac's body lying there, he would go back even if it was too late.

Another thing is that when Yohan is showing Gaon his scar after telling the story, there's a book fallen at his feet. I think it was the thing that fell when Yohan standed up from the table and choked Gaon (trying hard not to comment on that choking scene as a 🔥 Gahan moment for our delight and imagination bc that's not the point right now lol)

This is the book:

And the first page of this book says "Never again will a single story be told as though it's the only one." - John Berger

I searched about it and it can mean that never again will a story be told as if it's the only one that matters. It could also mean that never again will a story be so encompassing of the elements it tackles that no other story need be written about these elements. A story has many perspectives that cannot be understood by just a single viewpoint. Isn't that what this kdrama is all about?

One of the translations of what Yohan said after Gaon left was:

But there's also another version:

The meaning of what he said changes a bit depending on which translation is more accurate, more so when we add the book quote to the equation.

Kim Gaon and his connection to Kang Yohan

People think Gaon could be Isaac's relative in some way or just a look alike (I think it's just a look alike to contribute to Yohan's obsession/curiosity and their proximity from the start, that's why no one really comments on it, not even Gaon when he sees Isaac's picture). Dear God, let them not be related because it would make shipping our lawful husbands really strange, to say the least.

What I'd like to say and almost everyone is forgetting is that in the tvN character introduction we already have Gaon's past and know he wasn't always a goody two shoes, the man was a juvenile delinquent and can even fight (the rebellious phase he said he made the tattoo in episode 3?). He too sought revenge for his parents when he was 16 because they committed suicide after losing their money and being deceived by multi-level con artists posing as social service workers. But the teacher and Soohyun were able to hold him back.

Yohan's father could be one of the reasons for their death. He was a loan shark and might have lend them money after they lost it all and it caused them to have a great debt, that's why Yohan did a thorough research on Gaon and was interested in him (not only because he resembled his half-brother). They shared one enemy in common and maybe even a place (churches, Yohan's father tended to confess his sins in a church when his debtors killed themselves). Or Yohan might have researched about him at the time he knew Gaon was chosen to be the associate judge sitting on his left side instead of way before, because it's important to Yohan to know who he is dealing with and the dirty of their past if they have any. And then Yohan discovered everything and saw his picture and resemblance to Isaac.

The thing is: they have the same distrust/repulsion of powerful people who deceive the world and had a painful loss because of that. Both of them think they have the other exactly where they want but they get more confused about what it is that they really want from the other and get closer (as said in the summary of episode 5 that tvN released) while figuring it out. They will come to an understanding and probably join forces at some point. We saw it in the end of episode 4, the scene of episode 5 when Gaon says he can understand Yohan's pain but can't trust him if he doesn't tell him everything and then Yohan says Gaon needs to decide if he will get in his way or stay by his side. Gaon might go back to his rebellious days and stay with Yohan to seek revenge together while distancing himself from Soohyun and Jungho who prevented him from doing so

And that's about it! Thank you for your ask and hope my answer is satisfying enough! 💙 The hardest but also most awesome part is having to wait to see.

[mentalpolaroids]

GH | 18. April 15th

GH 17  GH 19

madelyncline

Liked by kellyinwinterland, obx and 210,462 others madelyncline Sarah carole baskin killed her husband Cameron reporting for duty in one week. April 15th ☀ @obx 📸 @kellyinwinterland

obx best caption award goes to -madelyncline @obx im blushing kellyinwinterland The koolest kook -obx @kellyinwinterland That was a good one -madisonbaileybabe @kellyinwinterland Ok miss we need to talk -kellyinwinterland @madisonbaileybabe You're not really a kook kook so... But I love you! -madelyncline @kellyinwinterland I love you kelly kell YOU're the koolest user God is a woman lilah.pate I'm just seeing this lilah.pate But WOW lilah.pate SOMEONE CALL THE FIRE DEPARTMENT CAUSE ITS TOO HOT IN HER -kellyinwinterland @lilah.pate Flawless demonstration of my thoughts when I took this -lilah.pate @kellyinwinterland SNAPPED jonathandavissofficial Here kitty kitty user1 Stunning!! hichasestokes Nice car, Uber? -madelyncline @hichasestokes with a heaping side of smog -kellyinwinterland @hichasestokes Dude you suck at flirting -hichasestokes @kellyinwinterland Spent a long time with Rudy, lost my game -kellyinwinterland @hichasestokes You had a game? -jonathandavissofficial @hichasestokes @kellyinwinterland 🤣🤣🤣 -hichasestokes @kellyinwinterland 😡 anyway, Maddie user2 Ur hot

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hichasestokes

Liked by obx, kellyinwinterland and 40,720 others hichasestokes Soo dope you guys are rockin with the trailer. April 15th is comin in hot. Thank you thank you. 🏴‍☠️🗺

user So excited about it! user1 This looks really good kellyinwinterland 🌊✨❤ -hichasestokes @kellyinwinterland ❤ jakeshort Y'all about to dominate streams in quarantine -hichasestokes @jakeshort I love dominating streams user2 can't wait!!

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johnatandavissofficial

Liked by obx, hichasestokes and 16,053 others jonathandavissofficial Hey if you guys didn't know the official Outerbanks instagram page is up!!!! get ready it's coming APRIL 15th

user can't wait to watch! user2 exciteeeed hichasestokes What's obx -jonathandavissofficial @hichasestokes son do I have a show for you -carolinearapoglou @jonathandavissofficial @hichasestokes wait... we were making a show?? Tbh I thought we were just summering in Charleston. Hope the acting is okay -hichasestokes @jonathandavissofficial tell me more now son kellyinwinterland I want to marry this picture, y'all look so precious 🥺 -obx @kellyinwinterland tbh same -user3 @kellyinwinterland Kelly is all of us -madelyncline @kellyinwinterland No way you're marrying this picture without me in it -kellyinwinterland @madelyncline I'll marry you in private baby -madelyncline @kellyinwinterland 😏 -rudeth @kellyinwinterland @madelyncline I feel like I should intervene -user4 @madelyncline @kellyinwinterland I LOVE THIS FRIENDSHIP SO MUUCH -user3 @madelyncline @kellyinwinterland @rudeth RUDY STEALING HIS GIRL BACK WE LOVE TO SEE -user4 @user3 @madelyncline @kellyinwinterland @rudeth OKAY I ALSO LOVE THIS SHIP SO MUCH

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madisonbaileybabe

Liked by obx, kellyinwinterland and 65,317 others madisonbaileybabe I feel obligated to make a pogue mixtape after @kellyinwinterland accidentally making the cover art.

obx 10/10 will bump to it at the next hurricane party -hichasestokes @obx I can attest. hurricane parties get rowdy kellyinwinterland Destroying the streams and destroying the charts -obx @kellyinwinterland Damn straight -madisonbaileybabe @kellyinwinterland You already know my dude user the best!! user1 The best team! rudeth Squad deep austinnorth55 Nice davey waynes shirt @rudeth -rudeth @austinnorth55 @oldnavy user2 U are soo cool!

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rudeth

400 764 views rudeth Watch this magnificent sailor (@charles_esten ) on Outer Banks coming April 15!!! @obx

madelyncline AHOY YE RIGS hichasestokes "Nice catch Charlie" user Woww Madelyn fake as fuck she commented but he didn't like it kellyinwinterland Ward doing his lil dancey dance -rudeth @kellyinwinterland Reminds me of someone -kellyinwinterland @rudeth Caught, I taught him the dancey dance -rudeth @kellyinwinterland A lady of many talents -hichasestokes @rudeth dUdE yOu SuCk aT fLiRtInG -kellyinwinterland @hichasestokes Go to sleep :) -rudeth @hichasestokes Not gonna lie I kinda do -kellyinwinterland @rudeth @hichasestokes Yeah can't deny -jonathandavissofficial @rudeth @kellyinwinterland ⛴⛴⛴ user1 DID... DID RUDY AND KELLY JUST FLIRT IN TH COMMENTS?? -user2 @user1 THEY SO DID IM SCREAMING -user1 @user2 EVEN JONATHAN SHIPS -hichasestokes @user1 @user2 everyone does actually but they're stupid -user1 @user2 @hichasestokes AHSGKASDHJ

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kellyinwinterland

Liked by obx, rudeth and 10,788 others kellyinwinterland Outer Banks comes out on Netflix April 15th! It was a pleasure working with these guys, they're a pain in the ass but they're also my favorite people on Earth. Oh and thanks @netflix for blessing me with the best job ever and giving me friends for life in the process ❤ @obx OUT APRIL 15th 🌊☀

obx Your presence was a gift. Thank you ❤ -kellyinwinterland @obx 😭🥺❤ rudeth Fam ❤ -kellyinwinterland @rudeth Forever ❤ madelyncline MY BABY KELLY I LOVE U SO MUCH -kellyinwinterland @madelyncline I LOVE YOU BABY MADDIE jonathandavissofficial Miss you already! -kellyinwinterland @jonathandavissofficial I miss you too!! Can't wait to go to LA to be with y'all -rudeth @jonathandavissofficial @kellyinwinterland HURRY -hichasestokes @jonathandavissofficial @kellyinwinterland No seriously please come, we can't stand Rudys whining anymore netflix We love you user I don't know what I'm most excited about, the show or to see Rudy and Kellys relationship development -user1 @user LIKE SERIOUSLY I dream about the day they annouce theyre dating -user @user1 THATTT -user2 @user @user1 The fact that Kelly is not even on the show but they treat her like family and I ship her with Rudy SO HARD user3 AWW RUDY MISSES KELLY -user2 @user3 HI GOD ITS ME AGAIN I WANT PICTURES OF RUDY AND KELLY TOGETHER PLS drewstarkey You know I feel sad that I'm not in this picture with that beautiful caption but it's ok you're still cool and I still love you -kellyinwinterland @drewstarkey 🤣 I love you too Drewey boy

[firewoodfigs]

catch up!

tagged by @bringingglory, @meridianheroine and @by-nina - all equally lovely people!!! I hope you’re all holding up well <3 

Three Ships: I know we said three, but let’s pretend I can’t count because I’ve been on a bit of a shipping spree recently xD 

ROYAI!!!! enough said I think the fact that I spend a good portion daydreaming and waxing all kinds of sappy poetry about them is testament enough to how much I love them. I love them sm I replaced my wallpaper (which was of my bf) with them instead 

Beth & Benny from The Queen’s Gambit is another golden ship for me cos like. the ~ intellectual understanding ~ like they just gET EACH OTHER AND I LOVE IT love is everywhere but common sense and understanding are not 

I really, really love Chuck & Blair from Gossip Girl. they just work so well together and their chemistry was /chef’s kiss also that one prom scene where someone was like who even voted for Blair to be prom queen and chuck was like me. I voted for her about a hundred and fifty times. like??? iconic ma’am 

BEN & LESLIE FROM PAR so wholesome and I love that we r finally getting portrayals of what healthy relationships ought to look like on mainstream media. so underrated 

in my middle school days I was head over heels over minakushi aka Naruto’s parents LMAO I still think they should have done away with Boruto and just given us a backstory on Minato & Kushina but oh well. guess that’s what fanfic is for 

I also shipped Squall & Rinoa before I even knew what love was. Also Cloud & Tifa MAN the FF7 Remake gave me so many feels!!!!!! 

ALICE & JASPER FROM TWILIGHT LMAOOOOOOOO yes I was obsessed with twilight as a twelve-year-old sigh but also proud of my twelve-year-old self for having the ~ taste ~ to ship them!! 

anyway yes I cannot count this is clearly >3 but whatever...... 

Last Song I Listened To: Paganini, 24 Caprices, Op. 1: No. 24 in A Minor LMAO HAHAHAHA I don’t even play violin but I just like listening to classical music when I'm at work because it helps me focus (and also I can’t sing along to it so that reaaaally helps) 

Currently Watching: I’ve been binge watching all the meme videos from TwoSetViolin ‘cos they’re hilarious LMAO haven’t really been watching anything on Netflix lately tbh but oH I tried watching a bit of Bling Empire and it is kinda cringe but also oddly addictive LOL someone stop me pls I m trash. ALSO I STUMBLED ABOUT COMEDIC GOLD if u go on youtube and search synthetic rose you will find a bunch of hilarious twilight memes. I laughed so hard I cried 

Currently Reading: The Queen’s Gambit, The Grape’s Of Wrath, The Handmaid’s Tale, clearly fanfic has permanently destroyed my ability to focus on one book at a time but I ain’t complaining lolol

How’s it going? I am not thriving, but I am surviving xD last week was especially rough at work because the workload was pretty bad, but this week is manageable so far and I’m looking forward to having good food with good company!!! Hope you’re all doing well^^ 

idk who hasn’t been tagged yet (I'm always late to the party LOLOL), but if you see this and would like to do it just say I tagged you <3 

[waterdeepp]

☾ indigo night☽ ✧ zutara fic ✧

Soulmate AU: you have a dream about your soulmate \when your soulmate touches you they leave a hand print. 

Katara keeps having the same dream of the Blue Spirit visiting her in the night. Until one night, she has a walk by the misty river, that dream becomes a reality. 

AN: Okay, this is really bad but it was fun. I have loved ATLA since I was a kid and seeing it on Netflix reminded me how fucking obsessed I am with it (with  Zutara). This goddamn show is amazing and I hope I did these characters justice. I stopped writing fic a year ago to focus on original content so pls be nice. should I do another where Zuko dreams of the painted lady? I personally think the Blue Spirit is based off the Chinese Azure Dragon but that’s just me ;)

Katara tossed and turned in her bedroll, flipping to her left side to see her brother and Aang sleeping peacefully. Damn these sleepless nights. For once Sokka wasn’t snoring loud enough to alert the Fire Nation across the globe. She grew agitated, pouting her bottom lip before turning on her other side. The crackling of the fire only got on her nerves, every little sound drove her mad. Even the sound of her own breathing wasn’t all too pleasing. Momo purred gently, sensing her discomfort. She kicked off her blankets and Momo flew down by her feet and nudged her with a concerned look in his eye. She reached down to scratch his head. ‘Get some rest, boy,” she cooed, pulling the edge of the blanket over him. The animal purred deeply as she rubbed the top of his head until he went to sleep. She loved him, she never expected to grow so attached to the animal. Now she shared her dinner with him when there was extra to go around, claiming no one should ever go hungry. 

She pulled her arms all the way up and stretched, feeling her muscles ease and shoulders pop gently. She was exhausted but still couldn’t sleep. She got comfortable again, doing her best not to work herself up. The night was cool under the moon’s ray, Katara felt the energy from above her. She inhaled deeply, her chest rising and falling. With each breath she began to relax, her muscles no longer felt so tight, so compressed or rigid. 

She saw snippets of her dream begin to form, she was sitting by the river close by; letting the water run over her fingertips. It was icy cold but made her feel alive, rejuvenated, and whole with herself. She was the water and the water was her, just as the moon lived in her rib cage and she lived in the moon. Her dream became vivid, it felt more real than ever.

Her fingers picked up strings of water and she glided it through the air. Sometimes she felt insanely blessed to have such magnificent power. She always knew she was born lucky, but when she stopped to think, it was a blessing. Water can heal just as it can destroy, tsunamis and cyclones were perfect evidence of that. Was water so different from its nemesis fire? Fire was famously known for its brutality and water its vitality, but both of them shared the same capabilities. She let the water freeze into razor-sharp daggers on her skin. She shot them back into the water with a splash. Droplets clung to her tanned skin, they glided over her plump cheeks and down to her decolletage. 

A mist began to billow around her, it was heavy and almost pulled her down to her knees. Katara looked into the water in front of her, staring back at herself, wondering if she was dreaming or not. Her eyes glimmered in the pool, blue eyes looking back into her. Those blue eyes slowly morphed into the face of the Blue Spirit. She froze, unable to move her limbs to splash the horrifying mask away. It stared into her, still and silent. The mask emerged from the water, a body appeared from the waters as well, cloaked with the darkness. Her curious eyes followed him as he slowly ascended into the air. Water did not cling to him, yet seemed to float around him. His swords were drawn and ready, dazzling silver glinted under the moonlight. Katara was frozen in place. She was not afraid anymore, fascination trumped all fears that lingered inside her mind. 

The Spirit sheathed his swords on his back, powerful arms flexed before her eyes. He did not utter a word, barely a breath escaped the mask. Katara extended a hand to touch him, dainty fingers brushing against the gloved hand. The spirit wrapped his entire hand around her wrist, she expected the touch to be harsh but he was surprisingly gentle. She ascended with him, mist wrapping around her legs. The water under their feet sparkled brilliantly, it was almost a replica of the star-lit skies in the North Pole. The spirit brushed his fingers against her brow bone and down to her chin. She shivered. His touch felt like the snow falling on her cheeks; gentle, beautiful, but so ice cold. Katara reached up to touch the eyes of the mask and just like those droplets of snow, he vanished like he was never there. How beauty could be swept away by a gentle touch.  

The next morning Katara woke up from a sound sleep. She stretched her arms and legs before promptly standing tall. “Oh, hi Katara! I didn’t know you took on face paint!” Aang said with a cheerful smile. Katara perked a brow. “I didn’t?” 

“Huh? You have four lines going down the side of your face.” The boy replied. Katara touched her cheek, feeling the dried paint on her skin. Sokka walked over to her with a curious look on his face. “What’s that?” he inquired, he shared the same curiosity as Aang. Katara looked at her wrist and saw a painted hand print wrapping around her wrist. The hand was large and engulfed her entire wrist. She furrowed her brow before she looked up at her brother. For once he didn’t have a sarcastic remark to throw at her, now he was genuinely confused. She wrapped her hand around her painted wrist and noticed the staggering difference in size. “Let’s uh, go wash this stuff off. I don’t know how you could have gotten that, it wasn’t any of us.” Aang reassured her once he saw the anxious look on her face. 

He walked her down to the river and Katara stopped in her tracks. “I was here last night, in my dream,” she exclaimed. “I stood right here, I saw someone but his face was hidden by a mask. I don’t remember what it looked like exactly but I know I was here…” her voice trailed off into a soft whisper. She felt the water pulling her towards it, it was the overwhelming urge to walk through it. “He stood here,” she whispered quietly. She felt his energy in her blood, a tingle in her bones. “What are you talking about Katara?” Aang asked quizzed walking over to where she stood. “I’m talking about my dream, the person I saw. He stood on the water.” she cupped some water in her hand and scrubbed the paint off her skin. It dissolved off but her skin was stained with blue marks. Aang wasn’t sure what to do, even being over 100 years old. He had never experienced or seen anything like it before. Katara scrubbed her cheek as clean as she could but her reflection showed the blue stains on her skin. She admired the hand wrapped around her wrist, the way the ink sunk into her skin was mesmerizing. Deep blue covered her skin, the most beautiful shade she had ever seen. “It won’t come off.”

***

When night fell, Katara was eager to get some rest and perhaps  see this mysterious figure again. The air was chilled, an empty sky above her head filled with glimmering stars and the mask of the moon. She felt the river calling her name as she tried to sleep. It called her, it yearned for her. Her attempts to block it out were futile, it continued to call for her. She slowly climbed out of her bedroll. She made sure everyone was asleep before creeping to the river. The walk there was quick, she almost began to run to greet the figure she knew was there. She wasn’t dreaming, she wasn’t crazy, and she knew it was there. 

And there he stood. 

The Blue Spirit in full form. ‘I knew you’d come.’ he whispered. Katara stopped several feet away from him, wondering if this was a trick being played on her by the mist. He stood tall, proud by the river’s edge. His swords were on his back, he was no threat to her and he had no real desire to bring her harm. “Who are you?” Katara slowly walked towards him, her hand extended out. His footing shifted as she did so. “You’re the… the Blue Spirit, aren’t you? I’ve heard stories of you. You haunt the Fire Nation.” 

He nodded one time. Now this time, he walked up to her, his strides were long and melodic. He was clad with the night like before, pitch black wrapping around his frame. She felt a hitch in her throat, a pressure built in her chest as he came for her. It felt like hours before he reached her, she was hypothesized by him. He reached to touch her, his gloved fingers barely touched her arm and paint followed. He stood mere inches from her now, his haunting ripping into her soul. The black eyes pulled her in deeper, she couldn’t resist the rich allure. He took a step back. She followed. He took another and she followed. “Don’t go, I have so much to…” to ask him? He didn’t speak and she knew that, but she felt this pulling in her bones to stay along side him. The spirit stood under the moonlight, raw and radiant before her very eyes. How badly he wanted to speak to her but he knew his voice would blow his cover. His eyes went down to her necklace, he wasn’t sure why he was so drawn to it. He reached slowly for it, his fingers circling the stone. Katara felt the gloves under her chin and a line of paint followed. Her skin was velvet soft and even he could tell through the fabric. He trailed his index finger under her chin and to her cheek. The paint continued to follow his gentle touch. 

This was the only way for Zuko to ever touch her without hurting her. He would burn her any other time, she was slash him with sharp ice sickles. But now it was neutral territory, he wasn’t endangered by her and she was safe with him. 

Safety. A place to rest soundly on. He wanted to offer her that shelter. For now, she wasn’t his enemy. He could admire her beauty without getting too close to the fire, he could hear how gentle her voice really was, and he could feel just how soft her touch was. Her eyes glanced down at his hand on her cheek. The moon behind him shifted behind his head and now he donned a silver halo, his entire perimeter glowing with light. 

It was magical. 

She touched his hand against her skin. Euphoria. Bliss. Heaven. 

Katara had never seen such a creature before, only the legends told her of this dreaded spirit. He slowly crept away from her, his body slowly fading away in the cold water. “Will I see you again? Will you return tomorrow?” she implored, moving through the water as fast as she could. But the spirit was gone before she knew it. In the blink of an eye he was on the opposite side of the river. He only gave her a nod before disappearing into the woods. 

Katara was never alone but she’d never felt more lonely watching the spirit fade away into nothingness. 

She only hoped she would see him again the next night. 

[grizztheexplorer]

Reaction umbrella academy. Ep 10, s1:

- looks like reggie is a time traveler. But with his wife was he in the past or future???????

- GLAD LUTHER TRIED TO APOLOGIZE TO POGO. AS YOU SHOULD.

- I understand possessed vanya destroying the rooms she felt excluded from, but tell me a memory of luke and allison doing unplatonic things trigger you??? Girl who wants to cockblock. If anything the usual reaction is to go “shit sorry” and then leave😭 i just feel like that’s an odd memory to trigger her. Felt more like a reminder of allison and luther’s feelings going on since they were young, than something that upset vanya.

- god I understand she was possessed sort of and not in control but how she murdered pogo? Even if i can like her and all she can never be my fave. That was horrible. Him and Grace were the only love she got as a child. To murder him like that and watch him as he struggles with his last breaths?? Awful. Im glad his death was emotional and luther was hurt. An emotional scene is what pogo deserved :(

- mom’s moment is heartbreaking too.

- uhm.... can we just take a moment to realize this is all happening because five left for like 30 minutes?? Sjfjdjf literally nothing would have happened if he had stayed. I just KNOW he would have called them dumb for locking vanya and talked to her himself bc her demons talked to her.

- WHY DO THEY ALWAYS ASSUME KLAUS IS LYING HIS POWER IS LITERALLY THE DEAD HOW DOES THAT NO MAKE SENSE U STUPID FUCKS. HE DIDNT LIE ABOUTUR DAD EITHER WHH WOULD HE LIE ABOUT THIS

- damn fuck you got me. I started the show bc i saw a fun edit of s2. Ik allison finds a husband and loves him very much, but fuck im rooting for her and luther to end up together a little?????? They just have a bond sjdjdjd i hate the writers for this they really should have just had a strong sibling bond but here we are :/

- respect to hazel for that cha-cha has me tired. Has anyone had the conversation that from the only black women in the show the dark skin one is the insufferable one?? No?? We still waitong on that!? Would have literally made more sense to have her be in the position of hazel and hazel be the sort of power hungry one. I dont even blame the show, Netflix just had such bad reputation with dark skin female characters. Still glad cha-cha got fucked tho sjdjdjf

- why is diego on luther’s ass about a plan and being a leader as if he wasn’t just as bad lmaoooo. Y’all don’t function unless is under five or allison’s instructions sir pls sit tf down you BOTH useless.

- IS THAT THE COMMISSION?? GOD I HATE THEM

- PLS AGNES MUST BE SO CONFUSED SEEING THE LITTLE BOY HAVE THIS MUCH AUTHORITY WITH THIS OLD ASS DANGEROUS WOMAM SHDJD

- five is literally the only one that ever makes sense. However the one thing he lacks is communication. He keeps wanting to save everyone on his own and keeps leaving them in the dark. Had he told them earlier of apocalypse with vanya there this wouldn’t happen. Had he told them more about everything he wouldn’t be pulled away so easily. He gotta work on not thinking himself as the one carrying everyone and rely on them more. Altho i agree with him that he is the smartest. The others getting angry at that is dumb. He is 58 anyways and all he had to do for decades was read books. So that’s a given.

- i was gonna say thank you luther but never mind. WHY ARE MAN SO DUMB LET ALLISON DO IT DAMN IT.

- damn it agnes she really is an angel “everyone has a past” god i love her

- also i wanted five to kill the handler im a little :/

- men ruined it. Couldn’t let vanya have this. After all the shit, i like vanya more than luther and diego. I don’t dislike them BUT THEY NEVER FUCKINF LISTEN.

- OKAY HOLD UP THE FINALE WAS A LOT OKAY.

- im soso glad hazel and agnes made it and escaped. Agnes deserves the world thank u for coming to my ted talk

- i can see why allison in s2, being separated and not knowing if luther is alive AND having him constantly ignore her bc “he knows better” caused her to marry someone else later and offer him to go with her. I honestly do like luther and allison and they prob will be endgame, but he has to learn to listen to her and know they can protect each other and is not always him protecting her. He has to get the “but im the leader” bs out of his head to make it work with her. Which im guessing will happen in s3 later on anyways.

- if only they listened to FUCKING ALLISON

- i wonder if allison had just like,,,, hugged vanya instead of scaring her with the gunshot the apocalypse wouldn’t happen????

- i see they aren’t escaping but rather five has a plan to run away and just start again in order to solve it. Makes sense.

- YES KLAUS U GO BABY AND BEN!!!!!!!!!! WHAT THEY DESERVE!!!!!

- glad cha-cha died goodness gracious

- i liked that the children appear on the last shot of the circle. If only andy mustard ugly ass would have taken notes for It Chapter 2 BUT I DIGRESS

Overall good season good show. I liked it. I like all characters but top 3 are def allison, five, and klaus. And ben. So top 4 bc ben is a puppy who i will always love a treasure. Hope we keep seeing klaus’ powers grow too.