#sunwriting

[igottoomuchwriting]

Rose for My Lover (HuskerDust)

Description: Husk finally decides that he wants to confess to Angel, but gets cold feet in the last second. It's up to Angel to finish the job.

Available on Archive of Our Own

Excerpt:

Stood in front of the bar watching the lobby was Husk, taking a break.

Husk rarely takes a break from the bar—Alastor sees no reason in giving him one when Husk can do what he would do on break behind the bar. But with Alastor out on some sort of business, Charlie and Lucifer dealing with Heaven, and Vaggie taking a well-deserved nap, Husk decided it was time to enjoy the empty hotel.

Well, almost empty.

Husk watched as Angel threw Fat Nuggets gently into the air before bringing him close to his face, kissy noises following the action.

“Who's the cutest lil’ piggy? Waiting for daddy to come home from work, how sweet!” Angel coos. Husk smiles at the display.

 Angel is paying little attention to Husk, as he often did. They were close enough that Angel was comfortable enough to just be himself when it was only he and Husk in the lobby. 

And that’s really what has put Husk in this position now. In his hand is a rose that he went out and bought as a gift for the porn star. They had been getting closer since Husk had found him when he ran out, even spending more time together since the fight with the angels. 

Husk has begun falling for the demon. Not the persona he puts out, but the real him. The one that loves taking selfies, but loves taking pictures with his polaroid even more. The one who slips into Italian when drunk, who once spent a whole night telling him about the old trouble he and his sister would get into when alive. The Angel who loves his body but hates his feet, who made Husk help him put on fake eyelashes on his six other eyes to freak everyone out, who loves Fat Nugget more than anything, who is a sore loser when it comes to any type of game but won’t give up until he beats Husk. Everything about the Angel that he has gotten to know is imperfectly perfect, someone who is funny, strong-willed, sure of himself, and human.

So now he stands here, watching his friend play with his pet pig, rose hidden behind his back as he works up the courage to take the last few steps and confess to Angel of his feelings. Husk is nothing short of a fucking gentleman, so the rose is a must. 

[sunnwrites]

teeny excerpt from WIP #2 - Lou

“I’m no one without others. People want to get to know me, sure, but what they don’t know is that they already know everything.”

She listens to the click of his cowboy boots on asphalt and wonders if it felt disoriented on city terrain. If it’d fare better on dirt and grass. If the spurs knew what it was. “What about when you’re alone?”

“I don’t care what I am when I’m alone. No one else does.”

Lou wipes the rain off her face. “That’s kind of sad.”

“If that’s what you think, then it is.”

[brinemcallister]

Prompts

Write a poem about a candy bowlWrite a poem about the cycle of the sunWrite a poem a bouquet of utensilsWrite about pumpkinsWrite about heartbreak in an abstract way

[sunwrit]

to know something is to kill what it isn’t by e. sunwrit

[Text ID: I don’t miss feeling small, / but I do long for the way everything felt bigger in childhood. / An alleyway, an open field, a parking lot, my own bedroom: / all of it endless, all of it doorways to uncharted land. / Every rain puddle was a small ocean. / How could dandelions grow from cement? I didn’t know. / I didn’t know anything. It was freeing. It was mystical. / Inside my closet was the trap door to the attic; I never knew / what was on the other side of the ceiling above my bed, / and because of that absence of knowledge, everything lived there. Everything. / If grass could grow from the sidewalk, who was to say there wasn’t / a luxuriant forest in the space right above my bed, sprouting from the floorboards? / Magic dwelt in the unknown. Possibility was abundant as air. / Now a puddle is just a puddle.]

[sunbrights]

the greatest people you will ever meet 

fic by @sunbrights​ | art by @werewolfest​​ relationships: marqueliot. wickinn. a big focus on quentin&julia. rating: mature wordcount: 52k warnings: no major warnings. canon-typical references to mental health and substance use. summary:

He doesn’t care that Julia became the undisputed Queen of Brakebills basically overnight. He doesn’t care about her new group of friends who hate him, or her ultra-rare discipline, or her mentorship with the dean. That’s not what any of this is about. 

Friends don’t date exes. They don’t keep the ‘dating-your-ex’ secret for two straight months. They don’t wait for you to find out on your own, in the middle of the day, in the middle of campus, and humiliate yourself in front of everyone. 

 But Quentin has new friends now— and they don’t fight clean. 

 (Brakebills, but make it Mean Girls.)

[sipthesunlight]

our garden

“just let it go” they say like gravity trying to pull me away from the sun, skies, stars that was the world that we’d created

and my fingers slip, slip, slip from the olive branch you’ve offered me once, twice, thrice countless tries to fix what ain’t broke, but cracked where i would have poured rivers of gold to highlight our scars and make them shine like stars but you pretended them away and left valleys of silence between us

and they pull me

“just let it go” they say dragging me down but i don’t want to fall i want to climb i want to rise i want to look up at our skies even when they’re on fire or dripping acid rain into my eyes

i’ve always been fond of dancing in the rain

i don’t want to let it go even if it hurts even when i can’t forgive you even when you can’t forgive me even when you never change because i chose you and some things are worth fighting for and some things are worth hurting for and some things are worth crying for and some things are worth climbing for

"just let it go” they say but i won’t

not everything that hurts is toxic sometimes it’s just human sometimes we’re just human and this messy world of light and drought and skies and doubt and stars and scars and peace and pain and sun and rain is home

[victorkatsun]

Prism; A Y!!!OI AU

❄ ; Victor and Yuuri grow up together through their teens, becoming best friends over tournaments and competitions. Feelings ensue, and distance gets in the middle, but there are some bonds that belong to the unbreakable kind. Every year something new happens, and as time goes by everything changes, but not them. After all true love, as they say, is finding your soulmate in your best friend.

.* :✧･ ｡ﾟPlease like or reblog, it helps me a lot ! Hopefully you will give this a shot, and if you do tell me what you thought about it 💙 ! 

─────────────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.❄ .* :☆ﾟ. ───────────────

It’s Yuuri who greets him, running to the door and hugging him viciously as soon as the iron door is out of their way. He jumps into the other boy’s arms without thinking and breathes hurriedly as snow piles slowly over their hot heads.

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t pick you up at the airport.” He says and Minako, who did pick him up and came on the train with Victor, chuckles loudly.

“It’s no problem, Yuuri. I’m here now.” In the past months, Victor’s voice left his whining tone behind and dropped several octaves lower. He doesn’t sound like a child anymore, Yuuri hears certain strength and resilience on him. It’s rich, sweet and powerful. It fits Victor and messes horribly with Yuuri’s gut.

When they talked over grainy video calls, he didn’t sound this mature, this real and Yuuri felt his knees give in at the sound of soft maturity coming from Victor’s throat.

He lets go of him and bows at Victor before reaching for the suitcases when Victor pulls his hand in his own direction.

“It’s okay, I got it.” He says, thinking Victor doesn’t want him to take his luggage.

“Yuuri.” It is then when he lifts his head up, almost gasping when he sees Victor’s silver locks gone and a much, much shorter and fashionable haircut instead. It looks sleek, still soft but also sharp. It's short on the sides and at the back of his head, very short. The top’s longer with a fringe falling in front of his face, almost covering up one eye. It’s hot.

Last time Yuuri saw Victor his long hair was still brushing his shoulders, the streaks of silver perfectly silky in a way that could only be described as luscious, as it had always been. But now its got edge, it’s masculine, too masculine, and Yuuri realizes Victor is not just a pretty baby boy now. Victor turned into a full-blown sex icon with nothing but a decent haircut.

Yuuri yelps. He can’t think like that.

“You look like a model~” He tries to sound teasing, but his voice is rough and small at the same time. Victor blushes.

“Is it horrible?” His complaints are proven to be annoying when even that heady voice can’t make him sound less like a child, and Yuuri feels like laughing. “You hate it!”

‘I hate that I can’t tell you what I really think about it’, Yuuri wants to say but he shakes his head,

“I don’t!” He swears. “It’s pretty, it suits you, you look older. But good older. Not old older.” He scrunches up his nose and Victor lets out a relieved laugh.

“I thought you’d kill me.”

Yuuri rolls his eyes. What he is immune to, though, it’s Victor’s excessive dramatism.

“I’m sure I’ll have plenty of other chances in the future, Vitya.” He huffs, sarcastic, and now he grabs his friend’s suitcase.

“Cheeky ~” Victor laughs, amusedly, and follows Yuuri with his backpack still behind him. Minako is following them closely, muttering something to herself.

“Otosan, Okasan!” Yuuri calls, yelling in rushed Japanese for his parents. “Victor-san is here!”

[sun-writer-blog]

Early Rise

A quick Percabeth writing I did a while back. They’re still the OG OTP, even if I’ve been posting a lot of Stranger Things stuff lately.

Btw I haven’t posted any smut, but I used to write it so if you’re into that sort of thing just give me a prompt and i’ll give it a shot. This is just about the closest I’ve come to it in a little while.

Percy awoke with blonde curls surrounding him, reflecting the sunlight that passed through the bedroom window filtered by navy blue curtains. The scent of venerated books, their pages bursting with wisdom, overwhelmed his mind. Soft, warm lips danced lazily over his stubble-filled jawline. His eyes fluttered with content.

“Good Morning, Annabeth.”

“Good morning, Percy” came the reply, whispered in his ear passionately. Percy turned his face towards Annabeth’s to bring their lips together. He sat upright, using one arm for support against the mattress while the other brushed a golden curl away from Annabeth’s olive-toned skin. He brought Annabeth closer, his hand resting on the tip of her chin.

A gentle sea-breeze passed through the open window, rustling through the curtains. Annabeth wrapped her arms around Percy’s neck as he shifted in the bed to wrap her legs around his waist. He leaned backwards against the carved-oak headrest, eyes closed as their skin burned with love. Annabeth's graceful fingers traced over Percy’s bare chest, and he took some time before finally slipping her beige bra off so that their bodies could press together. Annabeth’s breath shuddered as she drew in closer. Percy’s heart flipped. Their lips broke apart and hovered over one another's.

“What's the occasion?” Percy whispered jokingly. Annabeth rested her forehead against his, her fingers crawling up his toned abdomen and chest. Percy shivered - Annabeth’s hands were always cold, and she loved to give him goosebumps.

“Oh, I don't know. Someone got married yesterday…” Annabeth’s voice trailed off, her lips curling into a smile. Percy chuckled softly.

“Good for them. Where's the honeymoon?”

“The beach, of course, since the groom chose it. He's sort-of a Seaweed Brain.”

Percy leaned forward to trace his lips across Annabeth’s shoulders, her collarbones and her neck. She let out a long sigh.

“Just some old beach?” He prompted.

“Mm, now that you mention it…” Annabeth started, her nails curling into Percy’s bicep as he kissed her jawline. Her hips rolled into his reflexively. “I think he did say something about it being a family memory.”

Percy let his forehead rest against Annabeth’s again, kissing her nose gently. She wrinkled her nose and wrapped her arms around his neck again as he let his hands rest on her bare thighs. “What a romantic.”

“Tell me about it.” Annabeth murmured.

A gentle breeze swept through the bedroom again as their lips met together, their hearts floating along the waves of passion.

[valentits]

its holly, i came on tumblr to your account because i thought of you and seeing your posts hurt my heart so much. i miss you, i love you, and im still here for you, even though i am an ocean away (presuming you still are in england and I am still in new york, which i can confirm)

brb. i am going to imessage you right now

[skopjw]

Backtowork 👷🏽‍♂️ . . . . . . . #archaestheticall #gominimalmag #rnfrcmnt #sunwritings #minimalzine #rentalmag #noicemag #bewaremag #anotherplacemagazine #lekkerzine #stopmagazine #wtns #dreamermagazine #pellicolamag #phroom #mustardmood #take_magazine #futurebalance #kodizes #taintedmag #broadmag #oftheafternoon #nothinglessmag #fdicct #spectraculture #onbooooooom #thisaintartschool #newtopographics #phasesmag #lucecurated #banedart #bewaremag #awfulmagazine https://www.instagram.com/archaesthetica_l_l/p/Bw_q7AcnutZ/?igshid=lihdiav0gqu0

[sunwritings]

to be in love

they call it falling i call it softness a gentle kiss on the heart a birdsong so sweet a warm sunrise inside as if you are the world and within the concaves of your heart you may unveil the sky

[igottoomuchwriting]

It’s Fine Now (Geraskier)

Geralt was sitting on his couch, staring at his TV with a blank stare. It was quiet in his house. Ciri was back with Yennefer, Roach wasn’t running around and causing chaos, and Jaskier—

Jaskier left three weeks ago. Not willingly, no. Geralt kicked him out. 

Well, not exactly kicked him out. Jaskier doesn’t live with them, Geralt’s anxiety about bringing someone new into Ciri’s life permanently keeps him back from letting the man stay with him. No, he made him leave after a fight. A nasty fight, one that they haven’t had in their year and a half of dating. They’ve bickered, yes, but it was never this bad.

“I’m just trying to understand what set you off, Geralt!”

“Maybe it’s the fact that you’re trying to stick your dick in everything that fucking moves!”

Geralt flinched, the fight playing back in his head. That was the night before Ciri came back from Yennefer’s, the night before Geralt’s two weeks with his daughter started. It was supposed to be a fun night, maybe a night that ended with the two of them rolling into bed before they had to worry about being quiet.

But no. Geralt’s insomnia had been worsening, and he had started getting jealous at all the people flirting with Jaskier when he was around and Jaskier flirting back. He knew the man would never cheat on him, but he still hated it. Hates it. He doesn’t know how to tell Jaskier without causing a fight or lashing out, so he held it back, thinking the feeling would blow over.

It didn’t

“You obviously miss the way you used to live.”

“Oh like you’re one to talk, Geralt.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Geralt had been talking to Yennefer more before the fight broke out. He didn’t know what to do, and seeing as she is his ex-wife and in a successful relationship, he didn’t know anyone better than her to see what he should do.

He may have also brushed Jaskier off when he was talking to her. Whenever he asked who he was talking to, he would be vague, ignore the question, or distract Jaskier. Jaskier never said anything, so Geralt thought it was fine. It wasn’t a huge deal, talking to Yennefer. They’ve talked all the time and Jaskier knows this, even if he and Yennefer don’t always get along. They are both very sassy and bully each other, though they have both assured Geralt it is all fun in games.

“I know you’re talking to Yennefer more often. You keep trying to hide it from me, never telling me who or why!”

“What, I have to pass who I talk to by you? I can’t even have private conversations?”

Geralt knew he should have told Jaskier, told him he has been feeling anxious and insecure about Jaskier flirting with people, but doing that would admit weakness. As much as Jaskier, Yennefer, and his therapist have tried telling him, it is still drilled in his head that admitting you are upset by something means that you cannot handle it on your own.

“Private conversations with your ex-wife is different than having private conversations with a friend.”

Geralt’s therapist told him a week ago that he needs to apologize. He had explained the fight and she was disappointed in him, he knows this. She gave him a list of ways to apologize, how to start off and how to not freak out when someone puts blame on you.

She assured him that it wasn’t just his fault, that Jaskier had faults in the fight as well, but that he should reach out. He was the one who made Jaskier leave, it would be better if he reached back out again.

“Green isn’t a good color on you.”

“Are you fucking serious, Geralt?! You’re the one freaking out at harmless flirting but I’m the one who is jealous?!”

Geralt looked down at his phone, seeing it was only 9 pm. He hasn’t been sleeping still, only getting a few hours in every other day, having no one to help him sleep or a guilt free conscience. 

He missed Jaskier, he did. He doesn’t know where they stood now, but he didn’t want to let the man go. He never thought they would be together as long as they have, that they would work together as well as they did, but they did. Ciri loved him too, loved him the moment Geralt introduced the two and has even taken to asking when Jaskier is going to come over, when he is going to be available to play.

He never thought he would be able to find someone to love with Ciri around. He doesn’t care if no one wants to date a man with kids, he knows that’s not the case. Plenty of women have flirted with him at the gym and outright told him they thought it was hot how well he took care of his daughter. He just never thought he would have the courage to date someone, bring someone into Ciri’s life before she moved out. He was ready to just have it be her and Geralt, no one else. He was happy with that.

Then that singer had the audacity to serenade him at the bar, to hold eye contact with him as he sang a love song in front of a bunch of strangers. He even had the nerve to leave a note with his phone number on his nightstand after they slept together.

And Geralt had been so enthralled that he called him back. 

Then a year and a half later, Geralt fucks it up.

“I’ve been trying so hard to be enough for you, to be enough for Ciri! I feel I can’t compete with Yennefer, and you going behind my back to talk to her hurts!”

“Then don’t compete with her.”

“Wh—What?”

“I’m not repeating myself.”

Jaskier left after that. He didn’t slam the door on his way out, no. He always had a quiet anger. He barely raised his voice in the fight. It was only in the end when Geralt started pushing his buttons. 

He was calm. He was able to control his emotions. If he was mad with Geralt, he would talk about it. He would voice his thoughts, and anytime they bickered, they would go outside, go on a walk if Ciri wasn’t around, hide in their room if she was. He would make sure that her life was never interrupted by people fighting as it had been when he and Yennefer were together. He was looking out for his daughter, even if that was the last thing on his mind.

He would look out for Geralt too. He would give Geralt space if he was feeling overwhelmed, if he was sensory overloaded and ready to snap. He would hold Geralt close if he couldn’t sleep, would stay up and sing to Geralt if he had a nightmare. He would make him food if he was too tired from work, would watch Ciri so he could take a nap after days of not sleeping. 

Geralt and Ciri were at the top of list, and Jaskier showed this over and over and over. But Geralt had the audacity to think he would leave, to think that he was getting bored with his current life. So he lashed out, pushed him away, hid away before Jaskier could hurt him more.

Jaskier didn’t deserve that. He deserved someone that would bend over backwards, would worship him the same way the musician worshipped his lovers. Geralt was never that.

But he wanted to be. 

He looked back at his phone. Twenty minutes had passed. 

He needed to fix this.

---

Geralt walked into the bar that he has frequented time and time again. It was packed, people dancing around and drinking. Geralt was surprised to see people were more slow dancing. The music was slow as well. Geralt looked up at the stage and his heart stopped when he saw Jaskier sitting on a stool, guitar in hand, as he sang into the microphone. The band that usually accompanied him must have been taking a break, giving Jaskier to sing about his feelings.

The song was sad, it was slow, the patrons didn’t seem to mind. They were all listening to his voice, holding their lovers and friends close, drinking and watching Jaskier.

Geralt snuck past all the people and went to the corner of the bar, eyes never leaving Jaskier. He could hear the pain in his voice and his heart clenched tight. He knows he was the one that put that pain in Jaskier’s voice, so the idea of singing a slower song at a bar would be better therapy than just talking to Geralt again. But he supposes that’s his fault.

The bartender shot him a look, a confused and angry look. Geralt wasn’t surprised. He knew that Jaskier was close with his coworkers and was never one to shy away from sharing his woes. He wouldn’t be surprised if the bartender found a reason to kick Geralt out before he talked to Jaskier. 

“Whiskey, on the rocks,” Geralt huffed. The bartender nodded, still eyeing him up and down as she got the drink for him. 

As she handed the drink to him, she leaned closer. “If you aren’t here to talk to him, I suggest leaving.”

Geralt stared at her with a neutral face, wanting to tell her off for butting into his business, but he knew she was right. He just thanked her and leaned back, turning his eyes back to Jaskier.

The pair of blue eyes met with his and Geralt froze in his spot. Jaskier had been setting up a microphone as the radio music played overhead, giving the band time to set back up. Jaskier’s face quickly morphed from one of confusion to anger, annoyance. Geralt watched as he leaned back to the man next to him, mumbling something. The mystery man’s eyes flicked to Geralt quickly before he turned back to Jaskier with a nod.

Gerlat quickly looked away, embarrassed. He didn’t know what they were talking about, what they were planning, but Geralt was scared to find out. He wanted to leave, save himself the embarrassment, hide away and talk to Jaskier later.

But Jaskier’s thirty minute break was in ten minutes, and if he left before that, he doubts Jaskier would ever talk to him again. If he is even willing to talk to Geralt now.

“How’s everyone doing?!” Jaskier spoke into the microphone after everything was set up. Everyone cheered, clapping as their favorite musician flashed them a smile. “Wonderful! I’m glad all of you could show. I would like to think you are here because it’s one of the few nights to see me live instead of behind the bar, but I know it’s really because it’s ‘ladies drink free’ tonight.”

The crowd let out a chuckle, Geralt included. Jaskier knew how to work a crowd, how to get everyone to love him within a minute of talking to him. 

“Now, how many people are here to forget about heartbreak?” A handful of cheers, some guys yelling about their partners being a bitch. Jaskier nodded his head at the response. “Glad to see we are all responsible adults who know how to handle our problems.” More laughs, some cheers. “I’ve got an oldie but a goodie—if we are considering 2011 old—to play tonight. For all of those who did not have an emo phase in high school, sorry you may be left out tonight. For those of you who did, get ready because this song will bring back those memories.”

The band started plucking at some strings, Jaskier watching them for the beat.

Geralt vaguely recognizes the song. It must have come out a long time ago. Based on what Jaskier said, when he was in high school. Geralt is seven years older than him, so he doubts they were anywhere close to listening to the same music when Jaskier was in high school.

“Of course he would sing Avril Lavigne with you here,” he heard the bartender grumble. Geralt looked over to see her refilling his drink, not looking up at him. “I would listen to the lyrics a bit more if I were you.”

Geralt nodded his head, turning back to Jaskier. He was walking around the stage now, singing his heart out as many drunk people in the audience joined him. It seemed to be a popular song, one many people knew.

You’re on your knees, begging please, stay with me

But honestly, I just need to be a little crazy!

Geralt grimaced at the lyrics. The lines seemed to hit a little too close to home, seeing as he was here to actually beg for Jaskier back. He doesn’t know if Jaskier knows this or is hoping.

All I want is to mess around

And I don’t really care about—

If you love me! If you hate me!

You can’t save me, baby, baby!

The words just seem to hit him more and more. Jaskier was putting all of his anger into this song. He could tell. Every emotion he felt, all the words he wanted to stay but couldn’t, all right here in the disguise of a song. Because he knows Geralt is here, he knows he is listening. He knows he has no other choice but to listen.

So what if I go out on a million dates?

Jaskier’s eyes turned right to Geralt, passion in his words as he held eye contact with Geralt.

You never call, or listen to me anyway

Geralt looked away. He couldn’t listen anymore. It hurt him too much. Every word Jaskier sang destroyed his confidence little by little, making him want to turn and leave, leave before he could make the situation worse.

The song went on, the people cheered, but Geralt stayed silent. He ignored the bartender’s eyes, ignored Jaskier’s gaze as he sipped his whiskey, going over the list that his therapist gave him. 

He doesn’t know how much time passed, but suddenly he felt a hand grab his arm and pull him out of his seat. Geralt stumbled and turned, ready to yell, when he realized it was Jaskier.

“We’re going to the back, Sam,” he called to the bartender, not once looking at Geralt. He didn’t wait for a reply before he pulled Geralt away, through the ‘employee’s only’ door.

The break room was empty, thankfully. He let go of Geralt’s arm and turned around, glaring at the man.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he snapped.

“I wanted to talk to you,” Geralt mumbled. Jaskier let out a laugh, shaking his head.

“You’ve had three weeks, Geralt. Three. Weeks. And you choose now, when I’m at work, to come talk to me?” Geralt looked down, ashamed. He didn’t think that he would be mad that he was gonna talk to him at work.

“I didn’t think—”

“That’s nothing new,” Jaskier interrupted. Geralt shot him a glare. “Oh don’t glare at me, you brute. I have the right to be angry. You came to my job after three weeks of no contact. No text message, no phone call, nothing. You just told me to leave and left me in the dust.”

“I shouldn’t have—”

“You’re right, you shouldn’t have. You should have thought this thro—”

“Will you please let me talk?” Geralt snapped. They held eye contact, Jaskier’s arms crossed and Geralt’s hands clenched at his side. It was a long moment before Jaskier spoke up.

“Well then?” he motioned at Geralt, staring him down. “Talk.”

Geralt took a deep breath, calming himself down. He knew this conversation would be a waste if he decided to snap at Jaskier again.

“I’m sorry,” he started. He glanced at Jaskier, but when the man hadn’t moved, he continued. “I shouldn’t—I should have talked to you. I shouldn’t have poked your buttons, or betrayed your trust, or kicked you out of the house.”

“What does Yennefer think about all this?” Jaskier asked, because of course he would. She was, in a way, the center of the fight.

“She thinks I’m a fucking idiot,” he grumbled. Jaskier blinked, seemingly shocked at that answer. “She—She yelled at me when she found out I told you to leave, when she found out that I hadn’t told you that we were talking.”

Jaskier bit his lip, fidgeting in place. He looked away to process the information and Geralt let him.

“What did you talk to her about?” Jaskier mumbled. He had shrunk in on himself, wouldn’t look Geralt in the eye. He was afraid of the answer.

“I wanted to know how I should talk to you.”

“Talk to me about what? Kicking me out? Breaking up with me?”

“No!” Geralt snapped. “I—I didn’t know how to talk to you about the people flirting with you, how you were gaining tips at the bar.” Jaskier didn’t say anything. For the first time since Geralt knew him, he was silent. Geralt let out a sigh and ran a hand down his face.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, because at this point he doesn’t know what else to say. “I don’t want you to leave, I don’t want you out of my life. I was just jealous and stupid and sleep deprived. I was afraid that if I talked to you, you would be mad, but I see now that not talking made it worse.”

Jaskier let out a deep sigh, looking down at the ground. “I’m sorry too,” he mumbled. Geralt opened his mouth to say no, don’t apologize but Jaskier continued. “You’re right, I shouldn’t be flirting with people at the bar. It is all harmless, but I should have realized that it is making you uncomfortable. I don’t want you thinking that I’m gonna leave you for some rando who is probably cheating on his girlfriend as he is talking to me.” He looked back at Geralt, agitated.

“But you need to tell me these things. I am not a mindreader. And I don’t mind if you’re talking to other people, but I would like to be informed. You don’t have to tell me what you’re talking about, but at least say who you are talking to when I ask. Especially when it’s your ex-wife.”

Geralt nodded his head in understandment. He could do that much, he doesn’t have to hide from Jaskier when things are difficult. 

Jaskier gave him a small smile before walking forward, grabbing Geralt and pulling him into a hug. Jaskier wrapped his arms around Geralt’s waist and hid his face in his neck. Geralt wrapped his arms around him as well, holding him close as he laid his head on Jaskier as best as he could.

“I missed you,” Geralt mumbled. 

“I missed Ciri,” Jaskier replied. Gerlat huffed and smacked Jaskier’s butt. Jaskier let out and laughed as Geralt grumbled.

“I come here and lay my heart out for you and you say you miss my daughter.”

“I missed Roach too!” he defended. Geralt tried pulling away, pushing Jaskier away by the hip, but Jaskier whined and held on tighter. “Okay, okay! I missed you!”

Geralt hummed, satisfied as he pulled Jaskier closer to him again, keeping his hands on his waist. 

They stood there for who knows how long, just swaying in each other’s arms and holding each other close. Jaskier placed small kisses on Geralt’s neck and shoulder, and though Geralt would never admit it, each kiss made his knees buckle and his heart melt.

But he had a reputation to uphold.

“I should probably head back to work,” Jaskier mumbled. Geralt hummed again, but neither made any move to seperate. 

It wasn’t until Jaskier’s phone buzzed that they seperated, Jaskier groaning. Jaskier looked down at his phone and rolled his eyes.

“Sam thinks that I killed you,” he mumbled as his fingers tapped against his screen, shooting a text back to his friend. Geralt chuckled and kept Jaskier close, unwilling to let go just yet. Jaskier slid his phone back in his pocket and back at Geralt, a smile on his face. Geralt pulled the musician closer, sliding his hands into his back pocket as Jaskier slid his arms around Geralt’s shoulders.

“Are you gonna stay?” he asked. Geralt hummed, looking at his mental schedule.

“I’m not busy,” he answered. Jaskier smiled wide and Geralt decided he would do anything just so he could see him smile like that again.

How did he go three weeks without this?

“We close early today,” Jaskier mumbled. He leaned forward and placed a kiss on the corner of his mouth, teasing Geralt. “You can chill at the bar and convince Sam that you are a good person, and I can finish up performing.”

“I guess,” Geralt grunted. Jaskier let out a laugh and finally, finally pulled Geralt in for a kiss.

As he leaned away, Geralt followed and caught his lips in another kiss, causing Jaskier to let out another laugh and God, how did he go three weeks without this beautiful man in his life?

“I do need to get to work,” Jaskier laughed when he pulled back again. If Geralt was any other man, he would whine, stomp his foot, refuse to let Jaskier leave his arms ever again. But he can’t. His boyfriend does have a job to do.

As they walked back out, Jaskier called Sam over.

“Just put anything he drinks on my tab,” he told her, shooting a knowing look to her when she raised an eyebrow.

“I’m not going to drink a lot,” Geralt grumbled. Jaskier rolled his eyes, pushing Geralt back on the stool. 

“Yes, but I know Ciri has field trips coming up that you need to save for. Therefore, just drink on my tab. I don’t mind.” Geralt let out a huff but didn’t argue anymore. Jaskier placed a kiss on his check before stepping away to go back with the band.

“About time that you guys made up,” Sam grumbled as she made him another drink. “He’s been down in the dumps for weeks now, so much that I was afraid the boss was gonna force him to take some time off.”

Geralt hummed in understanding. Jaskier isn’t the best at hiding his feelings, so it would make sense that his boss would force him to relax.

Geralt stayed silent as Jaskier went up to the microphone, talking to the crowd once again, but this time with a happy glint in his eye. Geralt smiled to himself, happy that his lover could perform his best.

---

“Are you sure you’re going to be alright getting home?” Sam asked. 

Jaskier nodded his head. He was standing against the bar, trying to help Sam clean off dishes and whatever he could with his boyfriend hanging off him, refusing to let go.

“Yeah. He’s a very easy drunk, surprisingly. He’s just gonna whine a lot,” Jaskier laughed. Geralt let out a hum in protest, but Jaskier just patted his head, lightly running his finger through his hair. Geralt let out a happy hum, placing more kisses on Jaskier’s neck.

“It’s weird seeing the big macho man who rarely smiles like this,” Sam laughed. Jaskier laughed as well. It was weird for him when he first saw Geralt completely wasted. They were with his brothers when it happened, and he refused to let anyone else be near Jaskier. If Jaskier had to leave his side for anything, he would whine and pout until he got back, to which he would just hold him close and kiss every part of his body he could reach easily.

“He’s just like a big, needy puppy,” Jaskier assured. “He is a little more vocal, but for the most part it’s just him clinging to me like I’m gonna disappear if he let’s go.”

“I see,” Sam mumbled. Geralt tightened his grip around Jaskier’s waist, huffing when Jaskier smacked his hand.

“Oh hush,” Jaskier scolded. “I need to breathe, Geralt.”

“Our times together prove otherwise,” he grumbled. A blush bloomed on his face as Sam let out a loud laugh.

“I think you should get the big hunk of muscle home.” Jaskier nodded his head. 

“Yeah, probably. He’s probably gonna pass out soon.”

“Geralt, I need to pee,” Jaskier grumbled. He had gotten Geralt to Geralt’s apartment, into the bedroom and into more comfortable clothing. Geralt had tried making out with him, wanting to go farther, but Jaskier just kept pushing him back. Now they were laying in bed and Jaskier realized that he had to pee, but Geralt was being a cranky toddler.

“No,” he huffed, holding Jaskier tighter. Jaskier just rolled his eyes before rolling away, forcing Geralt’s arms off of him. Geralt groaned as if Jaskier punched him in the stomach, or physically hurt him. Jaskier ignored him as he made his way to the bathroom.

When he came back, he laid down on his back and Geralt immediately threw his arm and leg over him, laying his head on Jaskier’s collarbone and snuggling into him. Jaskier let out a small chuckle, running his hands through Geralt’s hair. Geralt hummed and scooted closer, satisfied.

“Jaskier?” he asked. Jaskier hummed, so he continued. “‘M sorry. Shouldn’ have kicked you out.”

“It’s okay, Geralt,” Jaskier assured. “I’m not mad.”

“Don’t leave.”

“I’m not gonna leave.” Jaskier placed a kiss on the top of his head, continuing to pet his hair until he fell asleep.

“Ciri would be mad if you left,” Geralt continued, obviously feeling the need to talk. “She was already confused when you weren’t here. She kept asking where you were. She was obviously upset and I didn’t want to tell her.”

“Well, we don’t want to upset our princess, now do we?”

“You should move in,” Geralt mumbled. Jaskier froze, staring down at Geralt in shock. “You basically live here. Ciri wants you to live here, keeps telling her teachers that her Daddy has a boyfriend who doesn’t live with them. It’s kinda embarrassing, so you should move in.”

“I think that’s a conversation we can have when you’re sober,” Jaskier deflected. He and Geralt have never talked about him moving in, and Jaskier was okay with that. He understood that he was probably scared to fully let Jaskier into his life, even after over a year of dating.

“I am sober.”

“Then in the morning, darling,” Jaskier said again. Geralt grumbled but didn’t complain, just snuggled closer to Jaskier.

It was quiet for a long time. Jaskier thought that Geralt was finally asleep, but he was wrong.

“Jask?” Geralt whispered. Jaskier hummed, but otherwise didn’t answer. Geralt didn’t like that because he placed his hand on Jaskier’s face, forcing him to look vaguely in Geralt’s direction. “Jask, Jaskier listen to me.”

“I’m listening!” Jaskier laughed, face slightly squashed by Geralt’s hand. 

“I love you,” Geralt said, and it was obvious to him that he thought it was the most important thing in the world right now.

“I love you too, my dear,” Jaskier mumbled. “Now, go to sleep. You need it.”

Bonus!:

“I see you two made up,” Yennefer said when Jaskier opened the door. Jaskier stared at her confused.

“What are you doing here?”

“Dropping off Ciri. I have a business trip I need to take.” Jaskier felt a tiny body tackle him, shoving his face into his stomach.

“Jaskier!” Ciri cheered, hugging him tight. “I missed you! Daddy said you were visiting family! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It was a secret trip,” he answered easily as he hugged her back. “I couldn’t tell you in case someone overheard me. We don’t want the secret getting out, right?” 

Ciri nodded her head in understanding. She gave him one last hug before running past him.

“Where is Geralt?” Yennefer asked.

“He’s laying in bed with a hangover.” When Yennefer gave him a confused look, he explained. “He came to my work last night to apologize, and I guess he forgot that you were bringing Ciri back over because he just drank after we made up.”

“That idiot,” Yennefer mumbled. They heard Ciri yell ‘Daddy! Daddy, wake up!’ and Jaskier quickly turned around, calling back to her.

“Ciri, princess, Daddy is sleeping!” A second later they heard Geralt groan as Ciri laugh, most likely from jumping on the bed—or on Geralt. It’s not the first time she would have done it.

“And, she doesn’t care,” Jaskier sighed. Yennefer laughed and shook her head.

[drungeepaschalsun-blog]

=‘s

To demonstrate our genius babygirl is to impose our will through our intentions. To perpetually reside in our egooey millieu is to perpetually assert our power to define: words, emotions, environments. Your silence, One as in ego, reduces your ethereal genius to human error. 

Confidence will carry your gorgeous ass as far as your discipline Wills. You. Thriving. Secrets, silence, and confusion a triumvirate or muses? either way their doings play portamento staccato instrumentals on your minds. Two. You. Tuned in to one born as daughter of the earth but would rather play sunson. 

Are you course like an uncle’s stubble? My mouth at your source my hands run course at the foot of your mammory. Digits moonwalk to summits, pinch the peaks, cunning how your body’s running, stunning lunar memories. 

[nostalnerd]

Wellity, wellity, wellity. What have we here then? An Amstrad NC200 you say? Perfect for some typing in the sun. #amstrad #sunwriter #sugar https://ift.tt/30730hJ

[sunwrit]

WRITE WHAT YOU KNOW by e. sunwrit

[Text ID: WRITE WHAT YOU KNOW / So I wrote about the sea. / The sun, too, the shade of cork trees over / yellow fields, the plush greenness of moss, / and loneliness, often. / Leaves, rivers, black tea, harvest, the hole in my chest, / even ghosts, even love, though I know of those only in theory, / and not a word of you. Being my father’s child / is only a title on a page. / The rest is blank.]

[sunbrights]

fic: feldspar

fandom: the magicians characters/pairings: queliot babey rating: t

fuckin' around with inktober again this year! this is for day 1, "crystal."

-

The morning Eliot left Indiana, he stole an heirloom crystal wine glass from his mother’s china cabinet.

read on AO3