#you are the very first message I’ve ever received in my inbox and have the privilege of responding to

[hanasnx]

I cant help but think how a sensitive person like me could react at Logan in your au. Like, if i didn't receive that kind of attention like, ever, i think every time he touches me gently (like brief cuddles after watching a movie, maybe him taking your hand for a brief moment, or holding you by your hip) I would immediately start crying on the spot for the build up of stress/emotions.

If the reader did this in front of Logan, what would he do? what would he think? would he comfort them?

Oh and btw, you write lovely! I felt all these emotions just from your storytelling. Loved it, really. I really hope we can have a part 2.

tbh reader is sensitive and not very courageous when it comes to her own needs. in a way she knew what she was getting into by agreeing to marry him, and it does hurt bcos she had some wishful expectations. it’s a delicate balance

tbh this is the first time that i read an inbox message about this au—that’s very personal to me and i was rly vulnerable when writing it—where i feel like you as the anon is working with me and my ideas about this. you’re not telling me they should fuck, you’re asking me about how reader is believably feeling and logan’s realistic reaction to that and i’d just like to say i rly appreciate that. i’ve been waiting for inspo for a part two and figured if i never received it i wouldn’t make one and it was alright with me. but the idea about bringing tears into it and getting a little bit of closure between logan and reader going is inspiring, it’s a step in the right direction

i love the idea that he gives you one tender touch he doesn’t think much of, and you’re so overwhelmed you look right up at him with those wide glossy eyes and he pales. he’s taken back.

“what? what’d i do?” there’s an edge of defensiveness to his voice, but his arm around you doesn’t let go. he watches you bow your head and put your little hands in your eyes. “kid?” he stoops, trying to get a look at you. “hey, talk to me.” it’s a very affectionate command, putting both hands on your shoulders to turn you towards him.

i think anything else i have to say on this should be saved for a part two if i do it bcos this was just too sweet

thank you for your kind words btw :) and for sending this ask in

[valyrfia]

I get your concern but ignoring it is the best solution, there's no need to panic at the second your ears hear the word lestappen coming from them. First of all lestappen is not gonna have a "fallout" because they're not friends to begin with so what fallout exactly can they have lol, they already knew the existence of the word lestappen because it's been there for years, and the RBR account for sure makes use of it. And also, didn't Max received an MTV couple award with Checo a few months ago and the sky remained the same? Cant get weirder than that. Or it can idk, I feel like an scenario where any ship name remains in only one single space it's not only impossible, but it's never going to happen, in an ideal word sure, it would be just a dirty secret that no one knows about but stressing out about it it's gonna only be bad for y'all.. But also, if his friend made that comment and pisses Max off very much, or makes him feel weird I'm sure he's gonna be like "don't ever do that again" or something. For what I've seen everyone had your reaction in the chat so I'm sure they got the message that it's a forbidden word

These two back to back in my inbox are first of all. A LITTLE funny.

Secondly, to the first anon, it’s hardly Max and Charles I really worry about, it’s how people can forget themselves when they think that rpf is suddenly “mainstream”. It’s usually a tiny tiny majority who ruin it for the rest of us but do forgive those of us who were around for great rpf fallouts for being a little paranoid. Second anon, you and I are of the same opinion. RPF is fun when it’s contained but when people start to bring explicit RPF content to more public platforms (and ironically, it’s usually content that’s the original author has published on a closed platform, ie. tumblr or ao3). Class A disaster is the jumpy paranoid side of both of us talking but I unfortunately agree.

Also I think it’s good to remind everyone generally. RPF is a weird thing, it’s inherently weird. These are not fictional characters, we’re superimposing our narratives on top of real people’s lives while they’re still around to see it. We all love it and partake in it, but it’s not something that would constitute casual conversation or would be talked about walking down the street. RPF is super fun but be aware it cannot function like a normal fictional ship because these are not fictional characters.

Chestappen vs. Lestappen is a weird one because Chestappen can be waved off as a joke a lot easier (teammates = marriage) and also I get the feeling that it is generally a lot more of a joke. Unfortunately when I see Lestappen stuff not on here or ao3 it seems a lot less jokey. People also seem comfier discussing fic (?!) on tiktok and twitter with Lestappen, which to me IS a cardinal sin. I think a lot of people misunderstand me when I say don’t talk about RPF outside of designated spaces, I’m not saying the shipname is a dirty word that must NEVER be used, or that those who make fun edits on tiktok are evil and should die. I simply mean, people need to not be letting on that there’s anything deeper to the ship aside from a joke. I’ve seen a lot of people scoffing at me and people who have adopted a similar hard stance as me and all I have to say is: humour us because we’ve probably got very good reasons to be wary.

[garlic-and-vanilla]

This ask is in your inbox because my brain has apparently chosen to title you as The Illithid Understander and I feel like you might have interesting thoughts to contribute to this topic (please don’t feel obligated to respond tho!)

When I played through bg3 for the first time, what really stood out to me about the Emperor as a character was that he is full of ambiguity. Many of the questions about him, on both a personal level and on a broader level as an illithid, simply do not have concrete answers in canon. I thought that it was so neat how the writers enshrined a vessel for open dialogue regarding some of the biggest themes and questions of the game/story in a character. I thought the whole point of the Emperor’s character is that there’s no One Right Answer about: its intentions, its morality, how much it still is or isn’t Balduran, how much it is or isn’t a monster, why it cares so much about the PC, if it made the right choices, etc.

Which is why I was utterly shocked to find out that SO many people played the game and just… unquestioningly seemed to think that many of those aspects had concrete answers. That this character that, to me, was defined by ambiguity, had been determined by so many to simply be Evil.

I have my own theories about each of the questions/ambiguities listed above, of course, based on my interpretation of canon. But I see them as just that, theories and interpretation. Maybe my perception of the Emperor as a bunch of unanswered questions is just an interpretation, too, but then what was the writers’ intent? (Did my success in high school English classes make me overly confident in narrative comprehension? Lol)

I’ve read many an interesting take on the Emperor on tumblr and ao3 that seem to vibe generally with the whole It’s Supposed to Be Ambiguous thing, and I’d love to hear your take.

First of all this is so funny and I am so honored to be The Illithid Understander lmao.

Second I am very sorry I haven’t answered this sooner. Alas I am not used to ever receiving asks and just now realized I even have one. And what a wonderful message!!!

Honestly I think you fuckin nailed it my man. In a game that spends so much time and energy asking the player to think about questions like “what does it take to be a monster,” “what aspects cause a person to become monstrous,” and “when does it become worth it to become a monster” the Emperor is the ultimate answer. The non-answer. His character embodies all the questions the game wants to ask, and then doesn’t answer any of them for you.

The game shows you characters and says “this is a monster.” Ketheric Thorm is a monster, and Orin and Gortash, despite how sympathetic their backstories and motivations might be. It shows you cycles of abuse, manipulation, cult mentality, and indoctrination. The power of grief, love, fear, and ambition to lead people down monstrous paths even as they think they’re doing the right thing, or the only thing.

You as the player character directly help your companions navigate these themes. You see how they’re affected, how they struggle, what they might become if they choose to give in, and what they become if they don’t.

Do they become monsters? Do you let them? Do you encourage them?

The game shows you clearly what monsters are, and waits to see if you’ll become one yourself.

Withers asks you, “Do illithids have souls?”

He claims they don’t, initially, but that story is contradicted the moment he meets the Emperor in the High Hall, and when you meet him after undergoing ceremorphosis yourself. There’s also lore out there that says illithids do have souls— non-apostolic ones.

So far as the game is concerned, I’m not sure there’s supposed to be a solid answer to that question. I think— like you do— that it’s supposed to be ambiguous. He is not a character the game points to and says “here is a monster.”

I agree with you wholeheartedly that the Emperor is made of ambiguity. The lack of answers are my favorite thing about him. He’s a mass of unanswered questions that you look at and see the themes of the story inside.

Is the Emperor a monster just for being a mind flayer?

Is he a monster because he came to embrace the power his illithid nature brought him?

Because a friend turned on him, claimed he was lost, and he killed them in self-defense?

Because he dominated Stelmane, a situation we have no context for?

How much of his behavior is genuine? How much of Balduran remains, and how much is illithid? Does he even know himself? Does it matter?

He’s a big mystery. We simply do not know everything about his past. We don’t know how much of his behavior is real, or an act. We have to make the deliberate decision to take him at his word, or not. To trust him, or not. To love him, or not. All of this complicated by the reality that his mind and experience are alien to us (a whole other post by itself).

Ultimately, there are no answers except what we come to decide about him for ourselves.

Some people have decided that he’s evil, for various reasons, and sure, that’s certainly a way to answer the question. To end the ambiguity by deciding the Emperor is, after all, a simple monster.

But isn’t it so, so much more interesting if he isn’t?

[pdpenpals]

Hiii could I get a love letter from pdh!vylad.

For context he’s sending it to his gf/ reader who he’s away from at the moment because he’s on vacation with his family and lost his phone or just wanted to write her a personal physical letter so it would never get lost in there text. She/her pronouns please.

hey, nonnie! this prompt’s pretty lovely, actually. i’ve always wanted to write to friends (and i suppose those who’ve set my heart ablaze) while traveling myself, letting them know what i’m thinking of, feeling, and seeing in the moment, but they all just end up as messages unsent that i hoard under my bed like a dragon, haha!

anyway, i’m hoping you find that this delivery does this ro’meave justice. i’ll be honest with you, i had the most fun making the envelope header accompanying this request. enjoy!

what promises to be a boring day is immediately taken back when the mailman pops up at your doorstep unexpectedly. he usually never shows up unless there are bills to be paid. the envelope looks and smells pretty old, but the date listed on its back indicates it was clearly made in the last week at the very least. a smile creeps onto your face when you recognize the handwriting, and you waste no time opening it up when you’re in the privacy of your own room, careful not to damage the stamp sealing it. it’s way too pretty to break, and you want to keep it.

not only is there a letter inside, but three laminated bookmarks. they contain real pressed flowers against a painted background. it’s a bit reminiscent of some art movement vylad mentioned before. art nouveau, was it? just like the rest of the materials used to make this letter, it appears to be pretty…antique. not that it’s a bad thing! it feels just like receiving a little time capsule, a blast from the past if you will. 

but irene above, the more time you spend not reading, the more you miss him. you carefully unfold the paper and let your eyes glaze over the paper.

Hey! 

Missed y (too desperate? hope you don't mind.)

Hope this reaches you as soon as it can. Did all the bookmarks make it in one piece? Do you like them? I’ve looked high and low through some pretty old catalogs to see where they came from and how much they sold for, but it would seem that they’re all individually handpainted and hand-pressed, therefore one of a kind.

I’m still quite bummed that I didn’t get a choice between going here or not during break. It was all so last minute! But I’ll be honest: O’Khasis is much prettier than I remember. What isn’t pretty is that Aunt Tilly (apparently she’s not our actual aunt? I guess we’re just used to calling her that.) absolutely insists that the place we spend our vacation at just happens to have no signal. Before, I absolutely wouldn’t have minded as there’s so much to do around here, but I can’t help but lie awake at night with the guilt eating at me thinking about how your messages must not be reaching my inbox. I’m sorry for not finding a way sooner. If anything, I didn’t quite expect the way this letter would find its way to you.

One thing you need to know is that up until yesterday, Aunt Tilly did not like me. At all. It kind of broke my heart a little as a kid because I didn’t know why. Now I can name a few reasons, but that’s not really what’s important right now. As usual, she would come with boxes full of stuff that she brought home from where she’s based abroad and let us pick what we wanted. There were a few old books and vintage clothes that interested me, but what caught my eye the most were the pressed flower bookmarks you got in this very envelope. And that’s just a fraction of them! You’d be amazed to see how many of them are in the collection.

Anyway, Aunt Tilly seemed reluctant to give them to me, even surprised to see that they were in the box in the first place. But ever since that, she’s warmed up to me, and it’s honestly much more terrifying than the times she’s barely acknowledged me. I should be upfront about it and ask her why soon. I suppose now should be the time to say that she even helped me pick out which flowers would be on the bookmarks I sent you. Says I should treat it like I’m actually picking out a bouquet or something. That woman takes her flowers seriously. At least now she knows she isn’t the only one in the family with an interest in floriography. She seemed even more delighted learning this letter was for a special someone, so she talked Mom and Dad into letting me have a few hours to myself in the town nearby just to have this letter delivered. I’m grateful to get a bonding experience with her out of this, but I really need to figure out what brought on this sudden change. Will definitely update you about it in another letter. This is quite fun, actually. Writing to you, pen on paper, feels way more personal, don’t you think?

Back to the bookmarks though, I’m not sure if you can read the text on them, but if I had to pick out a bouquet for you right now, I’d choose these three. Imagine the following with me now, will you? White clovers, balsamine, and pale red carnations. I don’t trust the Internet at the moment to be able to give you the exact message I want to convey, and I think it’s something better said in person. 

I promise I’ll make things up to you when I get back soon. A date maybe? Please write back soon. I’d love to hear your thoughts.  

Yours evermore, V.R.

PS. In the future, we should definitely go on a proper sightseeing trip around O’Khasis. Just you and me. How does that sound? 

[infloresco]

RULES.

Hi, Janice here and I am finally writing some rules. It is a short thing, just putting things that I think that are very important. If I think of more, I will definitely add it here. I am a pretty nice and chill person. I love screaming about our muses and their interactions. I am an absolute angst lover.

General rules & quality of life.

This blog is semi-selective & independent. Activity varies from to to week basis since I don’t have a set work schedule. Most of the IC interaction will most like be with mutuals since it is better for me tracking wise.

AU and OC’s are always welcomed and encouraged, especially if we have discussed it previously. (I have yet to write down all the different verses Robin is part off, so If you ever have any questions about them, please don’t be afraid to ask.)

NSFW content is present in this blog. I will always try to tag everything accordingly but as a general rule interaction as will be discussed before hand. Because of that it is advice to be 18+ and over. Any interaction with a minor will lack any sensitive material. Anyone lying about their age in search of NFSW interaction will be blocked! On the tagging topic, for the most part I don’t have any triggers, but if you aren’t so sure about something and you wish to discuss it before hand you can always contact me. (the best way to do it is on discord. Tumblr IMS are glitchy for me tbh)

Very important, my inbox, asks are always welcome, IC (obviously if we are mutuals I will reply to it eventually) and OOC (especially if you wanna know more about my take on Robin). My anon are one but as a general rule: don’t abuse it. I’ve received a few ill intended messages. If they were to continue, I will definitely turn off anon.

For the most part this blog is multi-ship. I love discovering dynamics and if our muses click, expect me sending you cute lil things and musing about them. But if that’s something you aren’t too keen on, please let me know. The last thing I would like is to be a bother to you.

If I reply to an ask and you like to reply to it, please do. If you like it but you just want to reblog it, you are more than welcome to do so. I really don’t mind. And on that note, I’m not really on the reblog karma thing, If you want to reblog a meme from me, please do it. If you did it by accident? Please know I will not be made about it.

As established before, activity will vary weekly because of work but I will like to say that it will also be dependent on how I am feeling my muse. Hyper-fixation of certain topics prompt me to reply immediately, while sometimes I might not feel motivated to write. I try as much as I can to reply to all my drafts and inbox. Rarely do I clear my inbox so if you sent me something, I will most likely respond to it, eventually.

My mental health is slowly getting into a good place but sometimes the decline comes and my activity might become less. Even if I am not writing, I always love to discuss and plot, actually gives me motivation and serotonin to come back. But it is important that you know that I do this for fun, if you start pressuring me for replies I am going to call you out on it.

ABOUT SHIPPING:

I love to write various different ships. I love the discovery of something new. That said, please don’t force any ships for my muse. Chemistry is very important in any type of relationship. Be the romantic type or even a friendship. I love it when our muses vibe.

Robin is written as demi-sexual. Connection is truly important and the first step to have any sort of relationship.

I am open to a list of dynamics, from slight toxic and age gaps (muses need to be of age of course) Enemies to lovers… anything that gives me drama and angst. When I think of more I’ll write it down.

NFSW memes are open to people I ship with.

I have a bias for these ships: LawBin and Frobin but that doesn’t mean I won’t write anything else. Frankly I’ve been wanting to write Robin x Crocodile.

I am probably missing some things, but I couldn't figure it out. I think I've said like a million times already, but I will add anything that comes to mind.

[rusakkowrites]

I was tagged by @wurzelbertzwerg – thank you for the chance to ramble about my fics! <3

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

47.

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

168,990.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Currently, mainly the Jane Austen fandom (particularly Pride and Prejudice and Emma).

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

In (not so silent) indignation (Pride and Prejudice): Mr Collins times his visit to Longbourn a few weeks earlier, altering the events of the Meryton assembly.

A Timely Intervention (Pride and Prejudice): When an attempt to evade Mr Collins’s proposal puts Elizabeth in an uncomfortable predicament, Mr Darcy’s appearance on the scene obliges her to re-evaluate his character.

Misconduct and Misdirection (Pride and Prejudice): Mr Gardiner’s business obligations are resolved more favourably than in canon, and Elizabeth’s trip to the Lakes goes ahead as planned. When the news of Lydia’s elopement arrives, a longer journey back allows time for recollections and realisations. Meanwhile, the rumours about a Miss Bennet’s elopement have spread as far as Derbyshire...

Blossoming Affection (Pride and Prejudice): It is a truth universally acknowledged that a young man afflicted by the lovers’ disease must be in want of a handkerchief. (A light-hearted Hanahaki AU.)

A Very Good Scheme (Emma): When leaving the Christmas party at Randalls, Emma recruits Mr Knightley’s help to avoid a tête-a-tête with Mr Elton. As a consequence, the events of the following weeks unfold rather differently than in canon.

5. Do you respond to comments?

Yes! I love getting comments and always reply. The only exception is when someone reads through one of my finished multi-chapters and comments on every chapter. In that case, I just reply to one or a few so I don’t spam the commenter’s inbox with a dozen “Thank you!” messages.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Probably A murderer’s hands, which is just an angst fest overall.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Most of my fics have at least moderately happy endings, but I think A Timely Intervention takes the prize. It has a happy ending for the protagonists, the antagonists suffer nothing worse than a slight romantic disappointment, and significant angsty canon events are avoided.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I haven’t received any so far, and I hope it stays that way. I’ve kind of braced myself for negative comments with certain Jane Austen fics featuring non-canon ships, but fortunately the haters have left them alone.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Not very often, but when I do, it’s not very explicit and usually either bittersweet or very humorous.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Occasionally. Sadly, I haven’t written any particularly crazy ones, but I do think that my two-part Sense and Self-Interest series is pretty fun!

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not as far as I know. I think the Amazon fic thieves in the Austen fandom generally target novel-length fics. My stories tend to be on the shorter side, so maybe that has helped keep them safe.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! The Family Business, Rowan flower and Much Cause for Contentment have all been translated into Russian. The translator of The Family Business even added some helpful translator’s notes explaining various Finnish and Nordic cultural references, so they really went the extra mile!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

A friend and I once played around with ideas for a coffee-shop AU of the film Halloween 6, but it never progressed beyond a few unposted snippets.

14. What’s your all-time favourite ship?

Such a tough question! The first ship that I really became obsessed with was Lalli Hotakainen/Emil Västerström, and I’ve also read lots and lots of Yuuri Katsuki/Viktor Nikiforov and Eric Bittle/Jack Zimmerman fic. Lately, my two big obsessions have been Emma Woodhouse/George Knightley and Aral Vorkosigan/Cordelia Naismith. However, if I have to pick just one, I think I’d have to say Elizabeth Bennet/Fitzwilliam Darcy because I’ve been into it for such a long time and it’s inspired so many of my fics.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

My “Kitty thinks Darcy is evil” AU, a very silly post-canon Pride and Prejudice fic. Other plot bunnies always seem to take precedence over it.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I think I’m pretty good at characterization, humour and Austen pastiche.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Actually getting anything written. I’m a procrastinator and a bit of a perfectionist, which is a terrible combination. My writing progress tends to be very slow.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

It can work well (and be a fun Easter egg for multilingual readers) if done in a way that makes sense. Otherwise it’s just annoying and confusing for the reader. In my opinion, it can be a good way to signal that other characters are speaking a language that the point-of-view character doesn’t understand, but just a few words are usually enough. After that, it’s better to just specify in the narration that “the angry little girl in red and the white, furry hippopotamus continued to squabble in their peculiar language while Mr Darcy looked on in puzzlement” (or whatever is appropriate to the story and the situation). I included the occasional word in Finnish, Swedish, Danish, Norwegian or Icelandic in my old Stand Still, Stay Silent fics, but never anything that the reader really needed to understand.

Also, a plea to anyone who’s reading this: please, please don’t machine translate dialogue into a language that you don’t know and slap it in your fic. You have no way of knowing if the output is correct and/or sounds natural. I’ve seen this done with Finnish and Swedish, and it was such a pet peeve of mine because the “translations” were usually terrible.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Stand Still, Stay Silent.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

This is also a tough question because I’m unashamedly proud of all of them. But if I had to pick just one, maybe A Very Good Scheme. I feel that the premise is really fun and that I managed to tell the story in an entertaining way. I’m just really happy with the way it turned out.

I will tag @storytilly (if you are so inclined) and anyone else who sees this and wants to play.

[onlyswan]

hi art! i wanted to tell you that i am a silent reader, and i am a huge fan of the in which drabbles! i started reading since 'in which jk gives you a concussion' and i've reading them all since then! i literally drop anything I’m doing whenever you post a newer one jsdjs!

and i have lots of faves, but one i go back to very often is 'in which cruel fate leads you and jk to bright places' there's just something in it that i just love so much, is it intimacy? just so much love between oc and jk? how caring and loving they are towards eachother? see, I don’t know what it is, but i want to experience a love like that someday fr. I also love 'in which you get your period and jk just wants to be with you' i relate to oc on this one, and how i wished i had a in which jk in my life in those painful moments sjdsjdsjdj. I just love the in which couple so much, like they are !!!!!!!!!!!!! so so !!!!!!!!!!!!! cute !!!!!!!!!!!!!

i truly love how you write, is very refreshing and very very poetic, you have such a beautiful way of explaining things that i just never get tired of, and just every sentence is full of warmth, and like at this point i have way to many fav quotes from you. tbh, thank you for letting us read such beautiful pieces for free:')

i read that you wanted to take a break? idk if you will, but you do what you feel its necessary for you:') and hope that you feel better ❤️‍🩹anyway, i wish you all the best always bc you give me such a nice vibe and you seem like such a kind and amazing person🥺and you’re very funny too and i love how you react to anything jungkook does bc that's a mood, he's just as amazing as you are! :)

hope you have a nice weekend! a nice rest of the month art! 🥺🤲💖

oh wow hello beloved 😭🤍 this was such a pleasant surprise in my inbox :") AND if i’m not mistaken that’s literally the first in which drabble????? that’s so crazy oh my god thank you soooo much for reading my works all this time i can’t comprehend it 😭

AND AHHSJJDDJ I LOVE LEARNING YOUR FAV ONES !! that drabble fills me with nostalgia that’s why it’s so freaking special to me <3 you have no idea i’m so happy to know it is often visited by you 🥺 ah yes and the first period drabble 🫶🏼 i know it’s been done a lot so i wasn’t sure if y’all would enjoy it 🥺 hopefully it’s able to provide you some warmth during those hellish days

this is one of the sweetest messages i’ve ever received thank you thank you thank you 💜💜💜 writing has kept me sane for years and i’m happy to have a space where i can freely share bits and pieces of myself <3

life just gets more exhausting as i grow older :( i think i’ll just be posting less frequently from now on! thank you for understanding and sending kind wishes 🥺 i wish life treats you with kindness always and you have a wonderful festa :P OMGSJSHDD MY HUMOR IS BROKEN BUT THANK U 😭 jungkook makes me lose any sort of composure…

[purplesurveys]

1676

Do you own a pocketknife, or any other kind of multi-tool? No I don’t.

What did your mother study at university? I won’t give it away but it’s 100% the first university that’ll come to Filipinos’ mind if I say it’s in Manila haha.

When was the last time your living situation changed in any way? 2008 when we moved into this current house. We used to live in a duplex with extended family on my mom’s side.

What was the last thing you took a video of? It’s a video of Tajiri from the wrestling program I went to two weeks ago. I don’t always keep videos from the shows, but Tajiri used to be in WWE and is very near and dear to the Filipino wrestling scene so I had to capture the moment.

Has anyone ever tried to convert you to their religion? Considering I live in a country where nearly everyone is Roman Catholic, no.

Are there any ways in which your childhood was highly atypical? Well yeah I guess the alcoholism and occasional violence and shouting matches can speak for themselves.

What’s something that used to really stress you out, but doesn’t anymore? Leading work calls. Used to scare the shit out of me, especially as an associate who merely followed my manager; but after more than a year of actually being the manager and holding the responsibility for being the main point person for every campaign, it’s nearly nothing to me now. I still kinda get stressed every now and then especially when the people in the call are unfamiliar, but I mean I haven’t ever panicked yet LOL so that’s a win.

Do you prefer to be around introverted or extroverted people? Extroverts.

Have you ever stayed in a hostel? Yeah but it depends on their facilities and location – I wouldn’t stay anywhere sketchy. I stayed at a hostel the last couple of times I went to Zambales and that place wasn’t bad at all.

Have you ever been somewhere where you didn’t fluently speak the local language? Yes – China, Japan, Korea. The last two were manageable as people we encountered understood basic English; but I’m pretty sure I only ever spoke with my parents the whole time I was in China.

What’s an interesting fact about the last person you hugged? She’s a cheerleader.

Have you ever dated someone from a very different socioeconomic background? No.

Do you own a disco ball? Nope, never had a need for one.

Were you born before or after the collapse of the Soviet Union? After.

What is your least favorite kind of weather? Pits of hell levels of hot. Which is what the Philippines is currently experiencing – welcome to the land where the heat index reaches 48º–50ºC everyday lol.

What was the last housework you did? Mopped the floor.

What was the amount of the last check you wrote? I’ve never written a check.

Do you have any home exercise equipment? My mom has a rowing thingy and a couple of dumbbells.

What mountain range is closest to your house? Sierra Madre.

Have you ever had famous neighbors? Yes, two houses away from ours is a well-known local film director. A number of celebrities also live in the village but I wouldn’t say they’re neighbors.

Describe the ‘look’ you did the last time you wore makeup? Barely there. It was just foundation, concealer, and very subtle lipstick.

If you got pregnant the 1st time you had sex, how old would the kid be now? 7.

Have you ever polished and waxed your car? Nope.

As a kid, did you have any friends with parents who yelled a lot? I’m sure I did.

If so, did you avoid going to their house because of it? I wasn’t allowed to visit friends’ houses for the most part.

Are you competitive? To a fault.

What’s the biggest risk you’ve ever taken? Give life a chance.

What was your last received text message about? It was just a notification confirming that I paid for a data promo. Extremely interesting stuff in my inbox hahahaha

Have you ever lived in a small community where everyone knew each other? Yes, my childhood street was pretty close-knit and my grandma knew nearly every household.

What are some of your least favorite foods? Fruits, raisins, pickles.

Do you give your pets gifts and treats for their birthday/adoption day? Not always, but yes some years we’d splurge on a cake or something.

Has anyone ever set you up on a blind date? If so, how did it go? No, I’m not the type to go on one. Are you a procrastinator? I can be.

What was the last thing you said out loud? “Sleep now, night!” after playing with the dogs as soon as I got home.

[lovebvni]

hi abyss!! as someone who really likes scrolling through your account and who sees the occasional dream anon in your inbox, I got the urge to pitch in. generally I prefer to keep my shifting/spiritual journey to myself, but suddenly got the urge to tell you about my own dreams I've had in regards to it. I thought you may enjoy this! Firstly, I apologize for sending an essay in your inbox, I just have a lot to say.

So for starters, I've had shifting-related dreams before, mainly to oddly positive ends. Aside from my mind conjuring up the individuals and my appearances from other places, I've had incidents where I talk to people in my dreams about shifting. Unlike a lot of people who always seem to run into very prominent issues here, the dream individuals are always oddly receptive and genuinely listen to me. I remember one time I said to a group as a part of a conversation "well, so what if it's not 'real?' all that means is you're meditating, practicing mindfulness, and you're not hurting yourself or anyone." You know, something along the lines to that, and all the dream characters reacted very positively. This dream stands out to me compared to others as I felt some odd sense of movement within me afterwards when I woke up.

Most recently, last night as of me sending me this message, a woman suddenly appeared to me in the midst of the usual course of my usually very vivid dreams. She sort of drifted a bit of the ways off the ground and wore a white, flowing dress that reminded me of ocean waves and sea foam, and her hair was dark and wavy that seemed to flow like water in the air. In her presence I could hear ocean waves (in the dream of course), and she told me I was getting SO CLOSE to achieving a shift. She was incredibly sincere, gentle, encouraging, and I got the impression I needed to stay dedicated with my new routine AND focus on a previously secondary/on-the-backburner dr that involved an oceanic setting, and I'll be able to do this

The way this woman appeared is a little significant to me. Funnily enough, I recently received a tarot reading that suggested a good first shift for me would be something oceanic (which feels way more in tune with what my intuition has been telling me, despite focusing on something else completely for little over a year). Not only that, my most unexplainable shifting-related incidents in the past over the course of my journey have involved hearing water of some kind (namely underwater noises, running water, rain when it wasn't raining.) And finally, the way her presence felt to me reminded me of all the times I've been near the ocean and the associated feelings I have about it. I know people are genuinely afraid of the ocean for many rightful reasons, but it's always been a major source of comfort for me ever since I was little. She embodied that.

Ultimately, I woke up feeling like I can focus on the completely unrelated dr I have been for a while and will still shift in time, sure, but focusing on what my intuition is telling me, with this more oceanic-based dr, will lead it to happening sooner. And that it feels like this is where I need to guide my focus. I do have some more thoughts too on the matter, positively framed of course, but this is getting long as is and I know you'll have some thoughts too! Thank you for reading this essay, and I hope you have a wonderful day!

OMG HIII ANON!! IM SO SORRY I TOOK SO LONG TO GET TO THIS 😭😭 i’ve been procrastinating so much AUGH!!!

and it’s totally okay!! i don’t mind long blogs or ask. if anything they’re really fun to me! i like reading things i’m interested in, and dreams and dream interpretations is one of them <3

anyways, i had a few thoughts about this. the most prominent one is about the woman and the ocean. now, i don’t know if you’re into deity work or anything like that, but this is a CLEAR CLEAR sign of aphrodite (oceans, sea foam, a white dress) she may be telling you to have a routine, a flow, and a way to do things. like how the sea always moves up onto the sand. the water may not reach the rocks right now, but eventually — with the movement of the moon, the changing phases, the tide rises and falls.

the second thing that stands out is this part — “I remember one time I said to a group as a part of a conversation "well, so what if it's not 'real?' all that means is you're meditating, practicing mindfulness, and you're not hurting yourself or anyone." You know, something along the lines to that, and all the dream characters reacted very positively. This dream stands out to me compared to others as I felt some odd sense of movement within me afterwards when I woke up.”

i feel like that’s almost rationalizing your fears — making them understandable, you know? like… you’re almost thinking that shifting isn’t real, but there is some truth to it.

i understand that! like i don’t believe everything the christian bible says, but i do believe there is some truth to it.

for understanding, you don’t need everything in a book for you to read. you can make inquiries and add your know knowledge and understanding to it. so what this person said in the dream saying shifting isn’t “real” could be your current understanding then. i feel like it’s almost telling you to deepen your knowledge? do your own research and ask your own questions, gain your own knowledge. and this knowledge doesn’t have to be on the act itself — it could be about your drs!

but, with one of your final comments, i believe some sort of beach/inter dimensional resting place dr would be a good place for you. i also feel the need to say Aphrodite may be reaching out!!

i hope this helps, anon!!! <3 i hope to hear from you again OR even just get the feeling ur doing well <3 sending positive energyyy!!

[a-lil-perspective]

honestly i love the content you’re giving us about/for the bad batch💗💗

OH MY GOODNESS.

My heart leapt upon reading that, thank you SO much. Your comment means the world to me, truly. I’m immensely glad you’re enjoying the content!! I’m also having a blast- They are such gems of characters and I can’t get enough of them. Even if I sometimes feel like I’m just over here shouting into the void, haha! Thank you again for the love and support.🤍🤍

[harringtonstilinski]

You’re So Annoying - Stilinski Twins (Smut)

Author: @stilinskiparker​ Characters: Stiles Stilinski x Reader (platonic), Mitch Stilinski x Reader Word Count: 7,311 Warnings: fluff, angst Tropes/AU’s: Best Friends to Lovers | Fake Dating | Soulmate AU |Established Relationship | Break Up ; Back Together | Enemies to Lovers | if you can think of any more, let me know! Smut: no | yes; (i added it to my own accord) sort of dom!mitch, m+f, protected, oral (f receiving) Requested: Yes! It turned smutty, but I hope it meets your expectations, and I apologize once again for spending forever on this, anon friend!​​​ A/N: Hi, friends! This is my first attempt at writing Stilinski Twins, so I hope you like this! Mitch’s attitudes are based off him in the movie; soft!mitch and hardass!mitch. The tattoos are ones I want and one I have (the puzzle piece), so that part is more so for me… BUT! If you like this, please do not hesitate to reblog and give some feedback, whether it be in the reblogs, comments, or my inbox. As always, read at your own risk and enjoy 😊

“Urrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgh! I’ve never met someone so infuriating in my entire life!” you said, plopping down onto the bed.

Your best friend chuckled, looking up for a moment from his homework. “Do I know to whom you’re referring?”

Scoffing, you sat up, resting on your elbow and said, “You should. They’re your brother.”

Hanging his head, Stiles said, “Oh, no. Not this shit again.”

“Yes, this shit again!” you exclaimed. “I went to fucking walk in the damn door–”

“Did you at least knock?”

With your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, you looked at your best friend like he was crazy. “Wha–yes!”

He turned to look at you through his lashes, an unamused look on his face. “Y/N.”

Sighing exasperatedly, you plopped back down on Stiles’ bed, looking up at the ceiling. “What’s the point in having a key if I have to knock every time I come over?”

Chuckling quietly, Stiles shook his head, going back to his work. “So, what happened?”

“So, I opened the door, right, as one does, and I’m looking down ‘cause that’s what I do, and when I looked up, all I saw was fucking abs!” You sat up quickly, looking at the back of your best friend's head. “Abs, Stiles!”

“So, he was shirtless?”

“No! Because when I looked down, I saw his fucking dick!”

The bedroom door swung open then, Stiles’ twin brother, Mitch, walking into the room. “I was not naked!”

“I fucking knew it!” you exclaimed. “I knew you were listening.”

“It’s hard not to,” Mitch said. “You’re kinda fucking loud when you’re telling stories. Oh, by the way. How’d the other night go with that guy?”

Stiles turned around at that, looking between his brother and you, seeing tears building up in your eyes. Looking back at his brother, Stiles hissed, “Mitchell!”

Getting up off the bed, you grabbed your bag and walked out of the bedroom, saying to Mitch, “You’re an asshole,” before walking through their shared apartment and out the front door.

After Stiles heard the door slam shut, he looked at this brother, anger in his eyes. “The fuck, Mitch?”

“She really does talk loud, it’s not my fault.”

“But did you have to bring that guy up?” Stiles asked, looking expectantly at his brother. “What was your goal there?”

“To actually shut her the fuck up,” Mitch said, turning around and walking to his bedroom.

Stiles sat back in his chair, hands in his hair as he muttered to himself, “These two will be the death of me, I swear to fuck.”

~~~

It had been a couple days since you last talked to Stiles, or seen him, which is very odd for the two of you. Normally, the spazzy boy and yourself are joined at the hip! The only time you really ever saw Stiles was during your classes, but never outside of that.

While wiping a tear from your cheek, your phone dinged with a message. You looked at it, slightly chuckling to yourself at the message Stiles sent. 

Stiles: I know my brother’s an asshole, but you can’t stay away from ME forever. Lydia’s busy tonight, so why don’t you let me take you out for a friendship dinner? Just you and me.

You sighed to yourself, thinking over your answer before texting him back. Right after the text was sent, you got up off your bed to grab your clothes and towel to take a shower. After some much needed self care, you got dressed in your favorite outfit that you always wore, wearing your hair in beach curls and makeup on lighter side.

You grabbed your purse and stood in front of the mirror by your apartment door.

“Don’t you look snazzy?”

You looked at the redhead standing behind you in the mirror. “I’m going on a date.”

“Oh?” Lydia said. “With who?”

“Your spazz of a boyfriend,” you smiled. “Mitch was an ass the other day, so Stiles is taking me out.”

She looked puzzled, already having plans with the spazz. “I’m so confused.”

“He said you were busy tonight and that– he’s not taking me out is he?” At that, a knock sounded on the door, and since you were standing by the door, you answered it, an unimpressed look on your face.

“What?” the spazz asked.

“You know what,” you said, cocking an eyebrow. “You lied to me.”

“Lyds, you ready?” Stiles asked, looking over your head at his girlfriend.

“Yup,” she answered, shouldering her purse. As she passed you, she said, “Have fun!”

As they briskly walked away, you stared into the eyes of the twin you despised more than anything. You took a couple steps in the hallway, shouting at the couple, “You’re assholes!” Sighing deeply, you looked at Mitch, eyes glaring daggers into his own orbs. “You better have something special planned.”

Smirking, Mitch replied, “Oh, trust me. I do.”

~~~

“This is your something special?” you deadpanned. You looked at him through your lashes, not impressed with what he picked.

“What? You don’t like it?” he said.

You both looked at each other, facial expressions reading very different.

“Mitch,” you said, turning your body towards him, him copying. “You brought me to a tattoo shop!”

“You don’t like tattoos?” he asked, sarcastically.

“Alright, Stiles.”

Humor left his eyes as it was replaced with anger, stepping a little closer to you. “You know I don’t like being called by Stiles’ name.” 

You rolled your eyes. “You were being sarcastic, and that’s Stiles’ thing. Listen, can we just… I don’t know, go get something to eat? I’m starving.”

“Look next door,” he said, voice surprisingly soft.

You turned your head, seeing the food place next to the tattoo shop. “Don’t tell me. You planned, while not really planning on–”

“Taking you out to eat since Stiles lied about being the one taking you out.”

You looked at him, eyes soft. “Thanks.”

~~~

“I cannot believe you did that!” you exclaimed, storming into Mitch and Stiles’ shared apartment. “Why the fuck did you do that?!”

“He had it coming,” Mitch shrugged.

“Had it coming? What the fuck gives you the right to talk to someone like that?”

“He was being rude.” Mitch was being nonchalant about the situation. See, on the way back to your apartment complex, a guy that you knew and had a class with stopped you from walking into the building. Granted, he was drunk and he was being rude, but you couldn’t see that because all the guy asked you about was homework for one of your shared classes.

Mitch ended up getting in the guys face and telling him to fuck off or else the next thing he’s gonna be seeing is his fist coming at his face before hospital lights. Mitch then took you back to his apartment, where the argument is commencing.

“Rude? He was asking about homework!”

“He was drunk and trying to feel you up!” Mitch yelled.

When you both walked into the door, neither of you realized that the door was already unlocked. You went to reply to Mitch before you both heard banging followed by a loud moan.

“What the fuck?” you said, looking around the floor, finally realizing there were clothes scattered around, the materials belonging to Stiles and Lydia, who screamed out Stiles’ name. “I’m leaving.”

“Can I come with you?” Mitch asked. You looked at him, anger and rage flooding your own orbs. “Look, I don’t want to hear them fucking like rabbits all night.”

“Where do you normally go?” you asked.

“The Quad, but since the weather is getting colder at night, I really don’t want to be out there.”

Letting out a deep breath, you thought it over for a moment. “I have some Stiles’ pajama pants in one of my drawers. I’m more than sure they’ll fit.”

~~~

When the two of you arrived at your apartment, you never expected to be sitting on opposite ends of the couch with Mitch. Clad in pajamas, you both were snacking on popcorn while watching a movie.

“So, they’re not fucking?” 

“Ew, Mitch!”

“What?” he chuckled.

“That’s his mom!”

“Explain it to me again.”

You deeply sighed, pausing the movie. You turned your body towards the man, resting your elbow on the back of the couch. “Lorraine Baines is Marty McFly’s mom! She married George McFly, had David, Linda and then Marty. Right now, in the movie, he’s with his mom– a younger 50s version of his mom.”

He looked at you like he still didn’t understand anything you were saying.

“Just watch! They’re not fucking - ew -, but just watch.” You turned back to facing the television. While your attention was on the movie, Mitch’s attention was on you.

As he looked at you, he started to feel bad about the way he was treating you. It was unfair and he knew it. The only reason why he was acting shitty towards you was because you’d rather hang out with his brother than him.

While that wasn’t true at all, you never told him that. From the moment you two started bickering, you knew that trying to get through to him on anything wasn’t gonna go the way you wanted it to.

You also started to feel bad about the way you were treating him, but the only thing you were doing was matching his energy. You felt as if you couldn’t be civil with him while he was being an ass to you, so you decided to match his energy.

While your eyes were on the screen, your mind was elsewhere, thinking things about Mitch over. For what felt like the thousandth time that night, you sighed, turning your head slightly in Mitch’s direction. “Mitch?”

“Yeah?”  

“Can I ask you something, and you promise to be brutally fucking honest with me?”

“Sure.”

“Do you really hate me?” you asked, voice soft. You looked at him, seeing that his eyes were already on you.

Without missing a beat after your eyes locked, he answered, “No. I don’t.”

With your voice a near whisper, you asked, “Then why do you act like you do?”

He looked away from you to his knees, thinking his answer over before taking a breath. “I only acted, or act, that way because… well, because I guess I’m a little jealous.”

“Of what?” you asked, incredulously.

“Your friendship with my brother,” he whispered.

“Why would you be jealous of Stiles?”

Scoffing, he looked back up at you, turning his body towards you, much like how you did earlier in the evening. “Because he always got the girl, got the friends, everyone just gravitated towards him. Me? Everyone steered clear of me. Guess they took one look at me and said, you’re not as funny as Stiles. You have longer hair and facial scruff, that means you don’t value yourself. You don’t–”

“Fuck what everyone else thinks,” you exclaimed, interrupting him. “What they say shouldn’t matter.”

“But it does!”

“Why? Why does it matter? Mitch, you are your own person. You have your own style. So what if your hair is longer? I like longer hair on guys. I take that back, some guys it looks good on - like you! As for your facial scruff – hot damn, it makes you look ten times hotter than Stiles, because let’s face it, Stiles can’t grow facial hair for shit. That stunt you pulled earlier with the tattoo shop? I saw the humor burning in your eyeballs. Let me ask you this; do you shower?”

“Duh, who doesn’t?”

“Do you take care of your oral hygiene?”

“Value it.”

“Do you take time for yourself every once in a while?”

“Kinda.”

“You’re doing all those things, which means you value yourself. Fuck everyone else and their opinions. The only opinion that should matter is mine.”

Mitch was a bit taken aback at your comment. The only opinion that should matter is yours? What does that mean? He decided to voice his question. “What does that mean?”

“From here on out, we’re hanging. That includes, but not limited to; study dates, lunch dates, dinner dates. They’re not actual dates, though. We’d have to actually be dating for that. Feeling bored? Come on over, I’ll get you a spare key. Need someone to walk to classes with? I’m your girl. Someone has something to say? I’ll tell ‘em off.”

He started chuckling about halfway through your speech before he quieted down. “Oh, you’re serious.”

“As a heart attack.”

He stuck his hand out, but pulled it back once your own got closer. “Don’t shake unless you mean it.”

Dumbfounded, you asked, “Did you just quote Disney to me?”

“Yes. My favorite as a kid was The Emperor’s New Groove. Now, you gonna shake my hand or what?”

Quietly chuckling, you put your hand in his, shaking it in agreement. What struck you as odd was the moment you put your hand in his, what felt like electricity went up your arm, making your hand warm in his. It felt like home.

Mitch cleared his throat, quickly retrieving his hand. “Can we, uhm… can we watch it?”

“The Emperor’s New Groove?”

He nodded his head, feeling ashamed to even be asking to watch a kid’s movie. You smiled, nonetheless and nodded your own head. You took the remote, finding the film on a streaming service. You both started on opposite ends of the couch before moving closer to each other, not realizing it.

When Lydia arrived home later that evening, the picture she saw on the couch shocked her to her core. She brought her phone out and took a picture of you and Mitch, sending it to Stiles. 

When Stiles heard his phone ding with a message, he opened his phone to look at the message Lydia sent. Instead of her telling him she was home, what he saw also shocked him to his core. A photo of you and Mitch, lying on the couch; him laying flat on his back with you in between his legs, ear on his chest with Mitch’s hands resting on your back with yours laying by his sides.

Stiles smiled at the picture, happy that his plan worked. He told his brother before the night started that he had a girl he wanted Mitch to meet, so naturally, Mitch agreed, never thinking that girl would be you and that you’d both would have a decent time together before falling asleep on your couch, watching an old Disney movie.

~~~

When you woke up the next morning, you first noticed a clothed chest before remembering the events from the night before. Nothing happened between you and Mitch, just an impromptu movie night due to Stiles and Lydia having some fun of their own.

You smiled to yourself, softly snuggling into Mitch’s chest, feeling his arms lightly tighten around your figure. He sighed against the top of your head, you doing the same to his chest.

“Good morning,” he said.

“Morning,” you responded.

After a few moments of silence, you heard Mitch quietly chuckle, prompting you to ask, “What’s so funny?”

“I thought we hated each other.”

It was your turn to let out a small chuckle. “We do, but… I don’t know, I guess you’re tolerable. I mean, we did hear your brother fucking Lydia last night.”

“And it was amazing!” Lydia yelled from coming out of the bathroom. “Like, really amazing.”

You sat up quickly, resting your weight on your hand while Mitch once again chuckled. “I’m aware now, thanks!” You looked down at the man below you who was full on laughing now. “You sound like Stiles when you laugh, and don’t give me that bullshit of you two being twins ‘cause I’m well aware.”

You couldn’t help but smile at him during his laughing fit. While it was true you didn’t really care for Mitch, part of you was starting to like him as a friend. You were lost in your thoughts about Mitch, not noticing that he was looking at you.

“Y/N/N,” he said.

“Mitch.”

“I have to piss.”

“Oh!” you exclaimed, getting up off the couch, pointing towards the hallway. “Uhm, first door on the left.”

Getting up, Mitch gave his thanks as you watched him walk towards the bathroom before you heard the door close.

“Pick your jaw up off the floor,” Lydia said.

You looked at her, confused look on your face. “What are you talking about?” “You’re gawking,” she chuckled. “Just admit that you’re starting to fall for him and fuck his brains out.”

Your jaw just about met the floor at her remark. “What do you mean by that last statement?”

She walked over to you, coffee thermos in hand and a long strap purse on her shoulder, whispering, “Every guy you bring back, you fuck his brains out.”

Disgusted look on your face, you shoot back, “No, I don’t.”

Mitch had come out of the bathroom just as Lydia made her remark, listening to your conversation while leaning against the wall.

“Well, can you at least fuck Mitch within the next - I don’t know - two months?” Lydia continued.

“So, you’re putting a timeframe on this? Lyds, I’m just now getting to the point where I can stand him, and I’m sure he thinks the same of me. I mean, last night was amazing, aside from him threatening a classmate of mine, but still! Him taking me out last night ‘cause Stiles lied about it, and then coming back here after hearing you scream Stiles’ name to watch movies and fall asleep together? I haven’t had just a night like that since, like, high school!”

At your small rant, Lydia looked over and eyed Mitch, the latter putting his finger to his lips, telling her to be quiet at his presence. 

“So, what you’re saying is you’d like to have another night like that with him?” she asked.

“Many more!” you exclaimed. “Don’t be offended, but he’s so much hotter than Stiles, more built than that spazz of a man, longer hair and facial hair?! Hot damn!”

“Mitch and Y/N sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G,” Lydia sang. 

“Shut up,” you chuckled.

She shared a chuckle with you before perking up, “Ooh! If you guys get married, we’ll be sisters!”

“Okay, you’re thinking way too far ahead. Mitch and I are just now getting to the point where we can stand to be in the same room as each other… we just started being friends.” You looked at her, seeing a smile on her face.”

“Well,” Lydia said, grabbing her keys. “I hope you two stay being friends because you two are way fucking cute together.”

You gawked at her, following her with your eyes as your body turned to face the door. “Lydia Camille-Grace —”

“Bye, I love you! Have a good day!” she said, closing the door on her way out.

Hearing a snicker coming from your right, you looked over at Mitch, his hand covering his mouth. “That’s hilarious.”

Glaring at him, you said, “I’m gonna kill her, then I’m gonna kill you.”

“Before or after you fuck my brains out?”

“Get out,” you said, pointing to the door.

Mitch just laughed, walking towards you. “I’m kidding. Please don’t kick me out.” He put his arms around your shoulders, bringing your back to his chest. “It’s Saturday. What do you normally do on Saturday’s?”

Resting your head on his shoulder, you sighed. “Catch up on homework, my shows, watch a couple movies, soak in the bath for a little while, maybe catch dinner with Stiles. What about you?” You turned your head to look at him.

He shrugged. “Either watch TV, or I—”

Noticing his silence, you scrunch your brows, turning in his hold to wrap your arms around his middle, chin on his chest. “Tell me. Judgment free zone.”

Sighing, he closed his eyes. “Or I’m at some girls' dorm or apartment… getting it on.”

Smiling a little, you whispered, “Sex is a very normal thing.” Pulling out of his hold, you finished your statement while walking to your bedroom. “Trust me, I have enough of it to know. And they’re not very good.”

Mitch followed you, watching as you opened your drawers to look for some clothes for the day. “Last guy you had sex with.”

With a disgusted look and tone to your voice, you said, “Brent Donovan.”

“Wasn’t the guy I cussed out last night, was it?”

“Nope,” you shook your head. “But I also had sex with him, too. Freshman year.”

“You’re not one of those girls who keeps tabs on the guys she fucks, do you?”

“Ew. No.” You turned around to face the window, the blinds and curtains closed. Lifting your shirt, you forgot you had a tattoo on your back, the tattoo that Mitch pointed out.

“Whoa, you have a tattoo?” he asked, walking around your bed to stand behind you, but not close enough to see your naked chest.

“Yeah,” you smiled. “I have four.”

“Can I see the others?”

Nodding, you agreed to show him… after you dressed. You showed him your puzzle piece with a heart near the center, a matching one with your sister. One on the inside of your ankle of an anchor with the saying I refuse to sink curved at the top and bottom. He already saw the one on your back, the saying with brave wings she flies with a heart in the middle of an arrow underneath. The last one you showed, you always covered it with long sleeves, this one meaning the most to you; a breast cancer ribbon, your mom’s birth and death date on the bottom of the ribbon, her name on the curved top.

Noticing the tears in your eyes, Mitch put his hand on the back of your head, gently guiding you towards him, the side of your head resting on his chest, whispering, “She’d love it. She’d love them all ‘cause they’re badass.”

You chuckled, reaching up to wipe the tears that had slid down your cheek. “Thanks. She was gonna get one if she beat it again. Breast cancer.”

“You don’t have to talk about it unless you’re ready.”

You looked up at him, looking deep into his eyes. You noticed the look he was giving, telling yourself you weren’t going to stop it if it happened. “Thanks,” you whispered.

You both leaned towards the other, lips almost touching before you heard your name being yelled by the familiar voice of your male best friend.

“Y/N/N!”

“And Mitch!” said male yelled.

Footsteps of your best friend sounded before you heard his voice. “Why the fuck is Mitch over here?” Stiles stopped his footsteps, standing in your bedroom doorway. Seeing the two of you in an embrace. “Why are you two holding each other like that? And why the hell are you over here? Why didn’t you come home?” Looking over at Stiles, Mitch replied, “We did come back last night, but you and Lydia were fucking like rabbits, Y/N and I decided to come back here to not listen to Lydia scream your name.”

Opening his mouth like he wanted to protest, Stiles stood there, looking around the room before shrugging. “That’s fair.” Knowing how the two of them slept, Stiles decided to leave that subject alone. “So, Y/N/N. What’s the plan for today?” Confused, you asked, “What do you mean?” 

Plopping on your bed, Stiles said, “We always hang out on Saturday’s.”

“Saturday nights,” you corrected. “We always try to get dinner on Saturday’s ‘cause I’m busy catching up on stuff.”

“Homework and TV don't count.”

“Sure it does,” Mitch said. “She can do anything she wants during her weekend.”

Getting up from your bed, and a little offended, Stiles asked, “Why are you being defensive?”

“I’m not. We’ll see you at dinner.”

Baffled, Stiles walked out of the bedroom, almost slamming the apartment door shut on his way out.

You gaped at Mitch, unsure of what to say or do. 

He turned to you, saying, “Come on. Let’s go get breakfast.”

~~~

A couple of months later, you’ve found yourself in Mitch’s arms more often, having sleepovers at each other’s apartments on nights Stiles and Lydia were over. The two of you never left the couch on those nights, moreso for Mitch’s sake.

He wasn’t afraid, per se, of you entering his room, he just didn’t want you to see the state of it. Your room in your apartment was open and bright, while his was the opposite. 

You both were laying on the couch one day in your favorite position; you on top of him, your ear pressed to his chest. He was running his fingers up and down your back when you sighed.

“What’s wrong, babe?” he asked.

The nickname made you smile. He’d been calling you little pet names here and there; babe, baby, sweetheart, doll, kitten, love. His favorite being love. 

You tilted your head back to look at his chin, that being the only thing you could see at the moment. “Nothing. Just wondering when we’re gonna stop sleeping on your couch and go to your bedroom.”

You felt him stiffen a little at your comment before he sighed. “You know I’m embarrassed by it.”

“You don’t have to be,” you whispered.

Stopping his fingers, he said, “It’s not like yours. Complete opposite.”

Sitting up, you said, “Mitch, I could give two shits about how your room looks. There could be clothes everywhere and I wouldn’t mind.”

“Yours is so open and bright while mine is not.”

You both looked into each other's eyes, fire burning behind yours. “Are we really about to have an argument over how our bedrooms look? Mine looks like it does because that’s what was drilled into me as a kid; having a clean and bright space. I want to know what was drilled into your head, what kind of space you have.”

He sighed, putting his hands behind his head. “Nothing was really drilled into my head, love.”

“Then show me. Show me or else I’m getting up in five seconds and walking into your room.” You crossed your arms, starting your countdown. “Five… four… three… two… one.” You got up from the couch, quickly making your way to the hallway you knew the bedrooms to be.

“Y/N/N, don’t!” Mitch said, following you. By the time he reached you, his bedroom door was open, you standing in the middle of it.

You turned in a circle, looking at everything. Before you could turn your back to Mitch, he saw the ghost of a smile on your lips. Looking back at his unmade bed, you whispered, “It’s incredible.”

Thinking he heard you wrong, Mitch walked into his room to stand behind you. “What?” You turned to face him, putting your arms around his neck. “I said it’s incredible. It’s you. Messy, but it has personality. The pictures, the posters, the clothes everywhere, your bed is not made.” Smiling, you ran your fingers through the back of his head, threading the strands of hair through your fingers. “It’s you.”

Without hesitation, Mitch leaned down, placing his lips gently on yours. He was letting you take the lead on the kiss, but a few moments later, you returned the kiss, pressing your lips lightly against his, as if to test the waters.

He pulled back and looked into your eyes before diving back in and kissing you more firmly, yet soft at the same time. Without hesitation, you kissed him back, standing on your toes to reach him better.

Mitch guided you back to his bed, the backs of your legs hitting the mattress before the two of you fell onto the bed, laughing. As you both laughed, you reached up your hands, placing your palms on his cheeks.

“You’re a pretty good kisser,” you whispered, a smile on your face.

“You are, too,” Mitch replied, dipping his head to kiss you once more.

Before things could get too heated, a knock on the door sounded, causing Mitch to break away with a groan, his forehead resting on your chest. He picked his back up, looking you in the eyes. “I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”

Whispering, you said, “Okay,” before pulling his lips back down to yours.

Mitch got up and exited his bedroom, going to the apartment door.

In the two months that you’ve gotten close with Mitch, he’d stopped talking to girls, the only girl he’d wanted to talk to was you. You did the same and quit talking to boys, neither of you having interest in pursuing anything outside of each other, even though you two weren’t officially a couple.

A girl that Mitch had been talking to you a couple of days before you two started being around each other had caught wind of the rumors surrounding you two on campus, but she didn’t want to believe it.

Her and Mitch had made plans two months ago to hang out when her family came back from vacation. So, when Mitch opened the apartment door, he was shocked to see her.

“Katrina? What are you doing here?” he asked.

As she tried to make her way into the threshold of the apartment, she replied, “My family is back from vacation. Remember, we made plans?”

Thinking for a moment, he closed his eyes, realization hitting him. “Shit. I forgot.”

“So, do you want to hang out or not?”

He opened his eyes, the fire in his eyes starting to flicker. “I have company.”

Not believing a word he said, Katrina pushed her way into the apartment, leaving Mitch to stand there, hand on the frame of the door as it hit the wall it was hinged on. “Well, I don’t see her.”

Closing the door, Mitch said, “That’s because she’s in my room.”

“The room that only I have seen?”

“Listen, Katrina. You need to leave.”

“So, can fuck some other girl?!”

You heard her yell the sentence, but wasn’t sure what she meant by that. You stood up from sitting on the bed, slowly walking towards the door when something on Mitch’s nightstand caught your eye.

A book. A little black book. Looking towards the door, you listened to them arguing before turning your sights back to the book. Looking at it made you anxious. You weren’t sure what was inside the book. Part of you wanted to find out while the other part just wanted you to leave it alone.

Listening to the devil on your shoulder, you picked up the book, flipping through the pages. A list of names written. You remembered back a couple months ago when he asked if you kept a book of all the guys you’d fucked. Quietly gasping, you looked back down at the book after having looked up during your through process. “That cheeky little fucker.”

“Where’s the book? Hmm? The one with all the names in it? Is hers in there?”

Quickly flipping to the last page that had names on it, you stopped and stared. There, in black ink, was your name. Tears sprung to your eyes as you walked out of his room, slowly walking down the hallway. “What the fuck is this?”

Looking past Katrina, Mitch saw you holding up the book, tears running down your face. “Y/N/N, it’s not what you think.”

“A little black book with a list of girls names you fucked? Your little scorebook?”

“It’s not like that!”

Shoving the book into his chest before walking towards the door, you said, “I cannot fucking believe you! I thought we had something.” You sniffled, tying your shoes up before looking at the twin you started to develop feelings for. “I guess I was fucking wrong. I hope you have a good time with Blonde Barbie over here.”

You didn’t give him time to reply before opening the door, slamming it shut, Mitch calling your name.

When you arrived at your apartment, Stiles and Lydia were sitting on the couch, eating popcorn and watching a movie. At seeing your state, Lydia paused the movie, the couple standing up. Stiles walked over to you, pulling you into a hug. “What happened?” “Mitch. Mitch happened.”

Stiles left without saying a word, ready to confront his brother.

~~~

“Mitch!” Stiles yelled, upon entering their shared apartment. “Mitch, I know you’re here!” Stiles walked to his brother's room and opened the door, letting it slam on the wall. “What the fuck, bro!”

Sitting up on the edge of his bed, Mitch put his head in his hands. “I know, Stiles. I know.”

“What happened between you and Y/N that’s making her cry hysterically?”

The twins looked at each other, Stiles waiting for an explanation. After a moment’s silence, Mitch explained what happened; that Katrina had showed up while you had found his little black book.

“Dude,” Stiles said. “Keeping a book? That’s sick. I mean, it’s almost normal for you, but it’s still sick.”

“I know, dude,” Mitch replied. He motioned to his computer desk, explaining that he threw the book out after he told Katrina to leave. “I really like her, dude.”

“Who? Katrina?”

“No, dumbass. Y/N. I really like her.”

“Well, you better make it up to her or else she won’t take you back.”

“Take me back? What do you mean?” Mitch stood, eyes narrowed at his brother.

Stuttering with his words, Stiles tried to stall instead of telling Mitch the truth about what you revealed to him a couple weeks back. 

“Stiles,” Mitch said, taking slow steps towards his brother. “What do you mean?”

“N-now, remember, Mitch, I’m older by 2 minutes,” Stiles said.

“You mean younger by two minutes,” Mitch corrected. Spotting his phone through the corner of his eye, Mitch grabbed it, ready to text you and ask what Stiles was talking about.

“Don’t call her! Don’t text her!” Stiles exclaimed. “I’ll tell you everything.”

~~~

About an hour after Stiles told his twin the truth about you and your feelings, Mitch raced over to your apartment, the one you shared with Lydia. He knocked on the door, hoping to see your face on the other side, but instead was met with Lydia’s, whose stare on him turned from neutral to one of slight rage.

“You better be here to apologize,” she said.

“I am. Believe me, I am,” Mitch replied. “Is she here? I just need to talk to her.”

Crossing her arms, Lydia said, “Oh, she’s here alright, and she doesn’t want to see you.”

“Lydia–”

“Who’s at the door?” you said, walking into view. Once you locked eyes with Mitch, the tears returned, the ones you willed away about five minutes prior. “Go the fuck away!”

“Just let me explain.”

“Explain what? That you kept a book of all your sexual escapades? And how my name was at the bottom of that list?”

Sighing, he put his hands on his hips. “I never meant for you to see it. I swear, I was gonna throw it out if we got more serious.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, unaware of his feelings, so you decided to voice your thoughts. “So, what, you like me or something?”

“Yes,” he sighed. “I like you. A lot. Right before Stiles showed up, I told Katrina it was over between her and I, not that anything was going on between us.” He walked more into the apartment towards you. As he stepped closer to you, he explained, “Look, Y/N. You’re the only girl I can see myself having a future with. The past two months have opened my eyes at what we could have. Yes, we hated each other just two months ago, but now that I’ve gotten to know you, I can’t picture my life without you in it.” 

You looked down at your hands, seeing your fingers laced with his. Looking back up at him, tears sprung to your eyes again. “Lydia. Go to Stiles’.”

“Why?” she asked, confused.

“ ‘Cause I’m gonna fuck his brains out,” you said, immediately kissing Mitch after. You didn’t hear her grab her bag or keys as Mitch backed you up, leading you to your bedroom.

Once you both came to a stop, you were able to register the backs of your knees on the mattress. You had pulled away from Mitch, looking into his eyes, letting him set the pace. “What do you want me to do, Mitch?”

He looked you up and down before looking behind you at the bed. Putting a hand on your shoulder, he gently led your back to the mattress. “Lay down, love.”

The nickname would’ve made you drop to your knees if you weren’t lying on your back. “What else?”

“Why are you asking me these questions?” he asked, hovering over you.

Shrugging, you stated, “Just letting you set the pace before, ya’know,--”

“You fuck my brains out?”

Smiling at each other, you giggled. “Oh, yeah. So that I can fuck your brains out.”

“I’m hinting at some sarcasm.”

“We’ll talk about sarcasm later. All I want right now,” you said, putting your hands in his hair. “Is for you to make me feel good so that I can do the same to you.”

Mitch smirked, leaning down to press his lips to yours as he said, “Sounds like a plan.”

Your lips moved in sync, his tongue asking for entrance which you gladly accepted. You explored each other’s mouths, neither of you battling for dominance; just exploration. 

Mitch pulled away for a moment, a whine of protest sounding from you before a light gasp and happy sigh sounded. You could feel Mitch’s smile against your neck, his lips searching for your sweet spot, which he found. 

You carded your hands through his hair a little harder, a quiet moan sounding from your mouth, his name falling from your lips.

He wanted to hear his name on your lips again, so he ran his tongue along your sweet spot before wrapping his lips around it, sucking a bruise to the spot.

“Mmmm, fuck,” you whispered. “Mitch.”

He released your sweet spot before looking you in your eyes. Deeply. Mitch knew that he wanted to be with you, and he knew you felt the same. His brain was swirling with thoughts, so he decided to voice them. “I’ll make you a deal.”

“Okay,” you whispered, hands going into his hair, gently. 

“I make you feel good this round. Next time, you can make me feel good.”

A hint of a smile ghosted your face before you nodded your head. “Okay.”

“Okay.” He leaned back down, pressing his lips to yours in a sweet kiss. Without detaching his lips from yours, he asked you to scoot back some, which you did. Putting his hands on your back, he sat the both of you up, you now sitting in his lap, legs wrapped around his hips.

Lifting your shirt from the bottom, you lifted your arms into the air, letting him discard the material. After a small thud was heard from your shirt hitting the ground, Mitch put his hands on your back, fingertips barely touching the bottom of your bra.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered.

You giggled. “That’s normally something guys say after they take off the bra.”

“Well, I decided to say it early, how ‘bout that?” He chuckled before you leaned forward, pressing your lips to his again.

He laid you back down before moving to your chest, kissing the tops of your breasts and the valley between them before moving down to your stomach, pressing light, feather kisses to your abdomen. 

Mitch put his fingers on the top of your pants waistband, looking back up at you, silently asking you to lift your hips, to which you obliged. He slid the material down your legs, stealthy taking your panties with them, letting both drop to the floor in a light thud.

Without missing a beat, Mitch licked a stripe up your core, your head pressing back into the mattress while a hand went to his hair. 

“Mitch,” you breathed as he expertly used his tongue in ways you’ve never felt. You moaned louder upon feeling two fingers enter your core, your head shooting up to look at the top of his head. Once you felt your release coming, you voiced it causing Mitch to stop. You looked him in the eyes, disbelief written all over your face. “What the f–”

“Where’s your condoms?” he asked.

“Top drawer, nightstand.”

He looked behind him, seeing the nightstand in question. Leaning back, he opened the drawer, stopping dead in his tracks, chuckling. “It’s so organized.”

“We can talk about my organization skills later,” you said. “I need your dick in me now so that I can cum.”

Chuckling again, he reached for a condom before standing from the bed to pull his jeans and boxers down, releasing his pulsating length.

“Holy shit!” you exclaimed. “Damn, Mitch.”

“Still like what you see?” he asked, brow raised with a smirk on his lips.

“Yes. Now, wrap it so you can tap this.”

Mitch rolled the rubber down his length before dipping his head, licking one last stripe upon your pussy before lining himself up with your entrance. “Just do something for me.”

“Anything.”

“Scream in pleasure,” he said, pushing himself into you, a loud moan tearing from your throat.

Mitch set a soft and slow pace to start before moving a little faster.

“Mitch,” you moaned. 

“Yes, love?” he breathed.

“Must go faster.”

He breathed a chuckle before moving faster and a little harder.

“Mmmmm, harder!”

Mitch sat on his knees, grabbing your hips to start pounding into you, a pleasurable scream sounding from your throat. 

“Good girl - that’s a good fucking girl,” he panted. After watching your covered breasts bounce a few good times, he started to feel his own release coming. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum soon.”

“Me, too, keep going,” you breathed. “Keep going, I’m almost there.”

Mitch reached down, thumb lightly pressing to your clit in circles. 

“Fuck! Don’t stop,” you moaned. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t –” A moan cut you off with the feel of your release, your pussy squeezing Mitch’s cock, causing him to give his own release.

He let go of your hips, leaning forward to hover over you while putting his weight on his elbows so as to not crush you completely. 

You both were breathing heavily, your hands going back to his hair. In between breaths, you said, “That… was… amazing.”

Mitch chuckled before looking you in the eyes, one of your hands coming down to his cheek. “Yeah, it was.” He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your lips, one you happily returned.

The two of you parted, Mitch sitting back up to get off the bed. You watched him as he poked his head out of your bedroom door before hurrying across the hall to the bathroom. When he returned, you were already laying under your covers with a piece of clothing on that Mitch, once again, chuckled at. “You look good in my shirts.”

“Haven’t we already established that?” you asked, pulling the blankets back for him to crawl under.

After putting his boxers back on, he said while getting into your bed, “Maybe. I don’t remember.”

You laughed as he put his arm around your shoulders, bringing you into him. Looking up at him, you placed your hand back on his cheek, guiding his eyes to look into yours. “Thank you.”

“For what?” he asked, confused.

“For showing me that enemies can turn into lovers in a matter of a few months.”

He smirked, “Anytime, love. Anytime.”

Smiling yourself, you put your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes. “You’re so annoying.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N 2: let me know what you thought!

Additional Note: my moms death anniversary is coming up next week (9/21/22). I write her death into a lot of my fics because it helps me kinda cope with it…

~~~

Forever / Everything Taglist: @stiles-o-dylan24​​​​ @stixnstripesworld​​​​ @fandom-princess-forevermore​​​​ @quanticobae​​​​ @mischiefandi​​​​ @kellyashcroft​​​​ @lauren-novak​​​​ @good-vibes-and-glitter​​​

Posted on September 17, 2022

[otrtbs]

Okay, normally I wouldn’t justify whatever is going on in my asks right now with a response but I have now received several messages throughout the course of the day that are egregious in nature and are continuously getting worse. So I’m going to say one thing and then be done with this.

When I wrote Art Heist, Baby! I didn’t expect anyone to read it at all, but I still recognized uploading something to a public platform opened myself up to strangers on the internet and all the comments they could throw my way. Furthermore, I was cognizant of this fact when I made my tumblr. My intent with doing both of these things, publishing my fanfic and having a tumblr where you can contact me, stems from two things.

1. To share my silly little stories about silly little wizards in a way that is fun and stress free as a way of participating in a fandom I (for the most part) enjoy

2. To reblog pretty pictures of art and answer questions about my fic/writing that people might have.

That’s it. I am not here to discuss other authors/creators in the fandom/their works in a way that incites drama and harm on my blog and dash. I will not be answering asks that talk about other authors in the fandom, and I will not be discussing or answering asks with malicious intent meant to harm me or other people. It’s not what I’m about, and it’s not what this blog is about. I was here to write, reblog art, answer questions about Art Heist. (This, I know, will be disappointing to the person/people in my asks harassing me right now.)

If you have questions/comments/concerns about my writing, it’s contents, or the content I post on my blog and you’re capable of phrasing those questions/comments/concerns respectfully, I am always more than happy to answer you, and I always have been. But I will not bring other authors into a conversation on my blog and a public platform. I don’t know them in real life, and I don’t speak for them, and I certainly will not be posting asks with hateful language that have the potential to harm other individuals who come across it on my blog.

Additionally, I have ZERO idea where some of you are getting your information from, but there are people in my asks calling me every name under the sun right now for beta-ing fics I haven’t even read, let alone beta-ed. What you see online of me and my life is minuscule at best, but even so, I always try to lead with kindness and understanding first. I would ask that you show the same to me. I am relatively new to ao3 and very new to the marauders fandom. Art Heist, Baby! is the first fanfiction I’ve ever written and published. I realized I was opening myself up to criticism, but never, did I imagine that I would receive the type of comments I received today especially when they’re founded on very little and/or very incorrect information. The comments are not about my writing, but rather about me and my character that you know nothing about. My intent in creating this post is to hopefully answer the asks in my inbox in a way that reflects only on myself with the additional hope that whoever is sending them will stop plaguing my ask box. If you have sent me a message over the course of the day, you know who you are, this is the response I have for you as a collective blanket statement to all your asks.

I didn’t sign up to be harassed, and honestly I didn’t think that these comments would affect me as badly as they have today. Social media has always made me nervous in general, I always approach it with caution and care, and I am the first to admit I’m a fragile person. It’s not worth it to me to fret this much over the vitriol I’m receiving, so I’m going to take a step back. Both from the fandom and from social media. At the moment, Art Heist is still up there for anyone to read and enjoy. I’m proud of it, and I’m so grateful for all the wonderful and kind people who are truly beacons of light in the world that went out of their way to be nice to me and my writing. It was such a fun experience to write this fic. It was even more fun to share and talk about art and art history on this blog with you all as I shared something I loved so much (thanks for listening to me geek out <3). Unfortunately, it has now crossed the bridge of no longer being fun for me (it really only took a day, so I realize how abrupt and perhaps out of the blue this response feels, but I refuse to waste my time and energy on something I know is not healthy for me even if the messages I’ve received are relatively contained), and it’s more beneficial for me to just remove myself from being accessible to strangers on the internet early on before things potentially fester and get uglier. Clearly, it doesn’t take a lot for me, :( but I’m not as resilient as I initially thought I was, nor am I willing to put up with the way people are speaking to me. I sort of almost hate to make this post, to bring more attention to the negativity that I hope has been contained to my ask box for the most part, but I did want to give everyone a brief heads up before I just disappeared on you all. My blog and all its contents will still be up for you to peruse at your leisure! It’ll just be dormant. There’s a possibility I’ll be back eventually (maybe, who knows?), but for now, I’m gonna go out, do my own thing in the world, and disengage for a while.

I am wishing everyone all the best and hope you all are well. Sending all my love as always <3

[creativeashproductions]

Proceed With Caution // Evan Buckley

IN WHICH: The reader doesn’t expect to become involved in a hostage situation with her fiance’s older sister, the older sister’s best friend and the best friend’s date from hell. With the addition of a SWAT member, how will the taking of dispatch change?

Warnings: Swearing, blood, threats, angst, guns, hostage/kidnapping

Words: 5.9k

A/N: Recently got into the tv show 9-1-1 and completely fell in love with Buck so here I am writing for him as well. This takes place during the season three episode ‘The Taking of Dispatch 9-1-1’. Reader and Buck are already in an established relationship.

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX/ASK PLEASE!

Masterlist

The apartment was quiet as the sound of your keys clattered in the bowl on the countertop. It was pretty early in the morning, so you had no doubts that Buck would be just waking up. On his days off, he would use the first day to catch up on sleep; based on prior times, he would be up in half an hour.

“Buck?” You called out from the kitchen. You heard a groan from the loft where Buck was in the process of waking up, “I forgot to drop off that book Maddie wants to borrow. When I get back, do you want to get breakfast?”

A grumble you somehow translated to approval was what you received in response. You jogged up the stairs to the loft to grab the book from your bookshelf. Buck’s bare leg stretched out from underneath the comforter on your side. The soft sighs Buck made in his sleepy state tugged at your heart; the sighs grew louder when you bent to kiss his head.

“See you in a bit.” You whispered to the sleepy soft male. He sleepily grinned in response before curling into your pillow.

The sound of your footsteps softened on the steps back to the main level of the apartment. Your keys snagged from the bowl before you gently closed the door behind you. The sun was gorgeous to be awake to see and had Buck not worked a long shift, you’d have adored watching it with him.

Your car pulled out of the parking spot in the Los Angeles Service Center’s direction that Maddie worked at. Your lips quirked as the radio spewed out the station that Christopher listened to in the car. You could even pick up the book in the backseat where he called his spot. The book could be found in Buck’s Jeep as well.

It had maybe three days since you’d seen the young Diaz, and damn did you miss the kid. Christopher has his enigmatic quality that demanded you love him for all that made him simply Christopher. The second you’d met him, you knew he would mean a lot to you.

You hummed in time with the song that was currently Christopher’s absolute favourite. Slowly you went from humming to singing along when the light turned green. A handful of songs came and went on the admittedly long drive due to traffic.

It was about forty minutes after leaving your apartment that you parked next to Maddie’s car in the parking lot. Lucy was sitting at the front office with a grin you matched. The woman buzzed you before she clocked out with her reprieve Jake.

“Hey, Sue!” You grinned at the older redhead. Sue had absolutely no problem seeing you, given that you were welcome in the building.

Sue’s first interaction was when you came to the centre to pick up Maddie when she came to work sick. Maddie had managed to keep it under wraps for an hour before Sue caught on. Ever since, Sue was fond of asking Maddie about her brother and you.

“Maddie’s not in just yet.” Sue spoke with a kind smile, “If you’ll excuse me, I have to meet with one of our sit alongs.”

You nodded towards her while beelining for the woman’s bathroom, hoping to catch Maddie after using it. You’d drank too much water on your run earlier this morning. Whether it was fortunate or unfortunate in the time you’d entered the bathroom, several things happened. Lucy ended her shift, Jake started his shift, and a group of strangers entered the building.

Your hand went to push open the door when through the crack, you saw two men you’d never seen before. Years of your job gave you enough feeling to know that something wasn’t right. That being said, you eased the door closed and attempted to find a hiding spot.

The garbage was too narrow and had no lid. The few seconds you had left, you glanced up. The ceiling hadn’t been renovated in many years. Rectangular sheets could be raised. Thankful of the rock climbing lessons you’d done with Maddie, you managed to crawl into the ceiling just as the two men entered.

“Nobody’s here.” The one-man with his head as pale and shiny as a cue ball. He gave off the most creepy vibe; the shorter Hispanic man wasn’t as violent looking, “Kinda hoping someone tries something. I’ve wanted to try out this.”

The man waved the large gun in his hand with a sick smile that twisted your stomach. That was the moment you’d realized something was very wrong. The second they left, you gently dropped back on the ground. Your first instinct was to send a message to Athena, but there was a fatal flaw. You’d expected to be in and out of the building quickly, so you’d left your phone in the car.

“Fuck.” You swore. One hand roughly running over your forehead as you contemplated figuring out a plan.

The building had many cameras throughout that you knew the blindspots for. The year after high school and during the summers, you’d worked in the building. Despite having worked here when you were younger, it was never during Sue’s shift. Over the years, you’d come to know the blind spots and a few cameras that were decoys. You even remembered Maddie and her friend Josh complaining about three cameras not fixed yet.

“Think.” You breathed, making a pattern of pacing, “They’ll need a lookout. They’ll take out the security guard first. The front doors are out. It’s a team, so they’ll also need eyes on the building. Terry is definitely a hostage.”

Of course, you’d end up in a volatile situation during the first half of your day before your shift started. The only comforting thing about the situation was the holstered gun on your hip and the badge on your belt. Maybe you should backtrack to why you had a gun and badge; you were an LAPD member, specifically SWAT.

“The changeroom.” You breathed, recalling it was down the hall with no camera. All you needed to do was pretend to be a dispatcher. The changeroom, now mostly a file room, had a few extra maroon and blue uniform shirts.

You timed it. The man holding Sue’s tablet was in the process of talking with his cohort, so you dashed to the room. You took no time in changing into a loose maroon shirt with your thick sweater overtop to hide the gun in the small of your back.

Your holster, badge and personal shirt tucked in the bottom of a box for safekeeping. As soon as you saw your entry, you sat with the group of hostages a hall over. A few looked surprised but let it go when you raised one finger to your lips.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” Maddie hissed from the other side of a startled Josh. Both of them were surprised at seeing you here, “Oh my god. Buck is going to kill me.”

“I was dropping off your book before I get breakfast with Buck, but it appears my small bladder saved my life.” You snarked with your eyes scanning the room, “What’s going on?”

“That is my date from hell, Greg.” Josh inconspicuously pointed towards the man, clearly giving orders. The anger flared inside you, “You need to get out.”

“Josh, no offence, but I’m an officer with the LAPD. I work with SWAT. I’m your best bet of making it out alive.” You informed the dispatch duo, who went still as Cue Ball patrolled the hallway with a sadistic glint in his eyes.

“They took control of the building for a reason we don’t know about. We’re still working but under strict monitoring. They said it will be an hour, but we’ve seen their faces.”

“No witnesses.” You finished for Maddie with a deep sigh, “Unfortunately I left my phone in the car. Did they take yours-”

“They took Linda’s EpiPen. Of course, we don’t have phones.” Maddie sighed, leaning back to rest her head against the wall. Not even having a SWAT member by her side was comforting; your badge put a more significant target on you.

“We have to warn someone.” Josh mumbled to both Maddie and you, “You’re on shift Y/N?”

“Not for a few hours. I was supposed to drop off the book and get breakfast with Buck before my shift. This was supposed to be five minutes tops, so I left my phone in my car.”

“I already did.” Maddie spoke with a sad look on her face that overtook the fear, “I just hope he gets the message.”

Your hand reached out to squeeze the woman you’d had a hand in raising Buck more than their parents. Maddie had become family when you first started dating Buck. The in-law part of her familial relationship to you never crossed your minds; you were simply sisters to each other.

“Who?”

“Chim. I told him I loved him.” Maddie finished with a teary gaze. It made you sick seeing that look again after Doug.

You remembered seeing that haunted look when she stumbled out of the thicker woods covered in blood. You’d stayed by Athena’s side when Buck clutched her so tight and sobbed with her. It had been before you’d become serious with the man, but it was that frightening day that Buck fell for you. You’d just finished a taxing shift with your team when you heard about Maddie was missing, and Chim was in the hospital. You’d ignored the exhaustion to search high and low through your work contacts before narrowing the search area.

“Good thing Chimney obsesses over the little things.” You spoke, slouching down against the wall, “We’ll get throu-”

“Don’t do anything stupid.” Maddie warned you with her brows furrowed together, and you saw what she was doing. Despite your years of experience and the gun you had, she pushed her fear down behind the concern that a big sister shows her young siblings.

“I won’t.”

At 8am, Buck was just entering the apartment building from grabbing the mail addressed to both you and him when Chim had called.

“Yup, go for Buck.” Buck spoke, opening the door to the apartment he’d only temporarily left. His morning had been late after his long shift the night before. The most productive thing was dressing for his breakfast date with you and grabbing the mail.

“How come 9-1-1 doesn’t respond when I call?” Chimney questioned the younger, now confused male.

“Uh, is that some kind of riddle? Like who watches the watchmen?” Buck asked, closing the door behind him. His eyes scanned around for any indication you’d returned home, but the bowl was vacant of your keys.

“Neither of those things are riddles. Okay, I just tried calling 9-1-1, and I got the high call volume message. Did I miss an earthquake or something?”

“Nope, pretty chill morning.” Buck responded as he closed the fridge door with a bottle of water in hand. The entire conversation wasn’t concerning to him, given that Chimney was often like this.

“Where’s Y/N? She’s the police she’ll know-”

“She’s not home right now. Wait, why are you calling 9-1-1? Is everything okay?” Buck slowly asked with his brows coming together. The sigh of frustration from Chimney was answer enough.

“Your sister said that she loved me.”

“Yeah. Wasn’t that uh, the whole point in that big date you had last night?” Buck inquired on his way to the table. He had a feeling this was going to be a long conversation that would hopefully pass the time until you got home.

“You declare your love, and she declares hers? That’s how it went with Y/N and me.”

“Yeah, I know, okay, but she didn’t, all right? At least not last night. Look, she made this big deal saying that she couldn’t say those words, and then this morning, she blurts them out and hangs up on me.” Chimney speaks, pacing in his own apartment. The side by the side of Chimney and Buck’s separate apartments told different tales of their states.

“It’s still not quite sounding like an emergency.”

“’Cause I sound insane.” Chimney spoke, staring up at the ceiling with a battle in his mind. He wants Buck to talk him out of this, but he also wants Buck to agree with him, “She’s at the call centre. What could happen there? You know what, forget it, I’ll try Y/N again.”

“Again?” Buck questioned just as his co-worker ended the call. Buck tugged his phone away from his ear to stare at it confused.

You always answered the phone if you weren’t working at the moment, but given you still had hours, he found it unsettling. After seeing the news report with the ladder truck on top of him, calls weren’t ignored between you two. That feeling of concern grew when you didn’t answer his call either. Nor the second one.

“Nah, she’s probably talking with Maddie.” Buck spoke, but that second-guessing feeling didn’t dissipate. 

In the call centre, you’d been marched to one of the stations with a deep hope that you’d remember everything. It had been years by then since you’d worked as a dispatcher. It didn’t help with the gunmen patrolling the room.

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” You calmly questioned the caller.

“Hi, my cat is up the tree by my house. Could you send someone?”

“Can I get your name?” You went through the motions of getting her name and address before you informed the woman, “Okay, the LAFD and LAPD no longer respond to calls of cats in trees. The cat will make its way down on its own. If the tree is in your backyard, I’d use the time to garden or read a book on this beautiful day.”

“Oh, thank you. I’m sorry for taking up your time.”

“It’s no problem. Having a wonderful day Susan.”

In no time at all, you’d been rotated into the board room away from Josh and Maddie. It gave you time to inspect everyone you hadn’t made contact with yet. No one appeared harmed other than in distress with the situation.

“Downtown. They don’t want anyone downtown.” Linda whispered as Maddie was guided onto the floor by the elbow. You’d only gathered her name from her near-silent introduction to you when the hired guns had been far from your area.

“Let’s go.” Greg snapped, roughly pushing you towards the conference room. Something deep in your gut already predicted that someone was going to be stupid.

It was your sharp eyesight catching the minuscule agitation in Greg’s interactions with the Cue Ball guy. The slight tightening of his grip on the gun, the tension in the room growing stifling. And everyone knows that when emotions run high stupid things happen.

“Why do they keep moving us around like this?” The man beside Maddie questioned. He was definitely the most shaken of the group. He was basically shaking like a chihuahua.

“To disorient us.” Maddie spoke, staring at the group monitoring the dispatchers currently in play. Her eyes refused to leave them.

“So, we can’t make a plan.” You finished for your sister-in-law. Objectively out of everyone, Maddie, Sue and you were the most collected individuals for various reasons.

Maddie had lived in a volatile house with a man that could be unpredictable if a situation called for it in his mind. Sue had been working in the centre for years to navigate the emergency while you walked into dangerous situations.

“Jamal.” The shaking man spoke, holding his hand out towards you, “Are you new?”

“No.” You spoke as you shook his hand, “I’m Y/N. Maddie’s sister-in-law. I’m filling in as a favour for Sue.”

The lie slipped off your lips a little too quickly. You decided to come to this hostage situation as if you were undercover. It meant having to ignore that Maddie was in the situation with you.  

“Worst day for a favour.” Jamal snorted with his eyes pinned on one of the armed men holding all your lives in their hands. You’d have spoken, but Jamal checked out mentally from the conversation waiting for the other shoe to drop.

The shoe dropped when the IT Specialist announced numbly, “Jake’s dead. They shot him.”

It didn’t matter how long you’d been working for the LAPD, any death, whether it was a civilian or a criminal, it was still was startling. Jake, the security guard that alternated shifts with Lucy, wasn’t someone you spoke with. He was on shift when you weren’t here or just missed the shift change.

“We need to get a message out.” Jamal spoke, glancing at the only people in the right state of mind, and those were Maddie, Josh and you. Terry had seen the violence these men had no issues with.

“I did.” Josh breathed, thinking of the arguably cute security guard he sometimes liked to stare at, “A woman called about onions in an omelette. I dispatched an officer.”

“To the restaurant?” Maddie inquired with her pinkie connected with yours for comfort. Both of you would prefer your SO’s hand instead.

“Not exactly.” Josh replied, staring at his best friend with a glimpse of hope in his brown eyes.

Hope may be the only way you could get out of this without hurting anyone in your admittedly surface level plan.

“Buck will think something is up.” You added 

Buck had begun pacing the kitchen of the apartment with Chim adamantly telling his friend his plan to go to the centre. Buck had joined Chimney in the concerned department when you had failed to return to the apartment, return calls and to make matters worse, so was Maddie. His texts had gone unanswered as well, not even having the read receipt on.

“She’s not picking up either. I tried Y/N and Josh, but neither replied. When I tried Maddie and Josh, it went straight to voicemail.”

“Now, I’m definitely going.” Chimney announced, shoving his wallet into his pocket just as someone began knocking on his door.

“What if something is wrong? I know Y/N is a member of SWAT but radio silence? No text to let me know she was called in early?” Buck thought aloud with his finger dragging along his thigh, “Maybe we should call the police.”

“I...think someone already did.” Chimney informed Buck as he stared at the sudden appearance of Sergeant Athena Grant at his door.

“What? What do you mean?” Buck hastily questioned, leaning against the kitchen island. He could just faintly hear Athena speaking on Chimney’s end of the phone, “Chimney? What’s going on?”

“Athena was sent to my apartment. Hang on, Buck, I’m just gonna tell Athena what’s going on.”

Buck stepped away from the island to settle on the stairs to the loft, impatiently waiting for Chimney to finish speaking. That fear of losing pieces of his life expanded deep in his gut, just like the times Maddie left in his childhood. That fear of being left behind.

“What’s she’s saying now?”

“She’s making her case.” Chim whispered as he continued to eavesdrop on Athena’s call with her higher-ups, “Now she’s folding like a cheap suit.”

“All right, let me talk to Athena.” Buck demanded antsy to figure out the situation that clearly had something wrong. That fear he’d thought of early flared catching the tail end of Athena’s conversation, “No! No, no. We can’t just send in SWAT. If there is someone inside the call centre doing something, they’ll know we’re onto them.”

Unfortunately, Buck was correct in this thought process, all thanks to living with a SWAT member. He knew these things after the years he’d been with you.

“Maddie? I think I can sneak up to Terry’s computer. Maybe get eyes on the place-”

“No!” Terry nearly shouted, stiffening when Cue Ball hesitated in the doorway at his sudden shouts. You all held your breath for his reaction, but thankfully he was called away by one of the men, “They have-”

“Terry, I need you to calm down. I’m familiar with these types of situations. I’m SWAT. I need to get on top of this. Don’t be a hero.”

Maddie’s head began to shake when your arm was roughly grabbed by Greg, “Your turn.”

You were separated from Josh and Maddie, but instead of being pushed into one of the dispatcher seats, you were pulled to the original hallway.

“I don’t like how friendly you are with them.” Greg spat, shoving you to rest against the wall, “Don’t move.” 

You catch the eyes of Maddie with an apologetic expression before you used the pacing routine to sneak away. You didn’t release your breath until you were attaching your holder to your hip in the change room. By now, your team would be aware that something was wrong, Hondo would be hell-bent on finding you.

Until you had help, you were on your own.

You used each blindspot of the cameras in the halls to the stairwell, and you used a broom to adjust the cameras. The cameras not kept you from view but not appearing suspicious. Once at the floor where Terry was practically always at you softly closed the door. 

You’d only started to sit down when you heard the ding of the elevator, “Shit.”

You slipped into the closest containing extra parts if anything broke. Through the crack, you saw Terry being held at gunpoint. The gunman that had been holding the tablet on the floor, Ellis as you’d heard.

“You’re telling me every cop in the city has just disappeared?” Ellis demanded as Terry, and he disappeared around one of the corners. The tapping of a screen indicating Ellis was searching for something with Terry’s involuntary help.

“I’m telling you, I don’t know!” Terry snapped back, creating even more tension in the room, but Ellis didn’t move to grab his gun.

Ellis appeared to the only one reluctant to discharge your weapon, unlike Cue Ball, who just happened to join the party.

“Figure it out!” Ellis spat, turning on his heel at the sound of approaching footsteps. You could see him roll his eyes at his team member walking into the room.

“What’s going on here?” Cue ball questioned the duo in different kinds of distress, and you swore Cue Ball enjoyed the intimidation from his teammate and the IT specialist.

“That police car’s not the only one that’s gone dark.” Ellis nervously spoke, stiffening for the volatile reaction that one could expect from Foster.

“You think they know we’re here?” 

“Foster, it could be a system glitch.” Ellis offered keeping one eye on Cue Ball while monitoring Terry’s work as well.

Cue Ball spoke a sentence that sent chills up your spine, “Time to cut our losses.”

As Foster and Ellis began going over their personal plans made out of Greg’s knowledge, you noticed Terry glance over. His eyes widened slightly before quickly looking away when you raised a finger across your lips.

“We can go down the back stairs. I have a car waiting around the corner, we split the art up between the five of us, and we go our separate ways.” Foster spoke, revealing his plan to double-cross Greg, which in all honesty made sense. Greg was ill-fitting to be in charge of their operation, unable to control his lackeys.

“I like that part of the deal.” Ellis breathed, skirting around the trigger happy criminal only to halt in his steps, “Wait, you’ve got a car parked down the street? You were always gonna double-cross Greg.”

“You weren’t?”

“If we’re gonna do this, you can’t just sell famous works of art on eBay.”

“You can’t sell them from prison either.”

At that moment, something almost shifted in the area, something that made you pull your gun from your holster. Your body telling you something was about to happen. It happened in a split second. Foster fled the room leaving only Ellis just outside. With Terry frantically shaking his head, you tiptoed to the unsuspecting criminal.

“LAPD!” You shouted, pointing your gun towards the shocked man, “Put the gun down and put your hands up.”

“Aren’t you a dispatcher?” Ellis questioned, blinking in surprise.

“Aren’t you supposed to be intelligent? Next time check the schedule I haven’t worked here in years.” You spat, keeping your gun pointed on him, “Do I say-”

The sound of two guns going off made Terry flinch and scream as he instinctively dropped to the ground. IT was supposed to be safe, but Terry had now heard three gunshots in under two hours. He really didn’t want to see the outcome of the shots.

A moan coaxed Terry to peek out through the privacy glass. Ellis was on the ground while you kept your gun on him. He didn’t see anything else when the power went out. He didn’t see you drop to your knees, but he heard you.

“Terry...get down. Lay on your stomach with your hands insight, and don’t move.” You informed the terrified IT just as the floor was swarmed.

“Put the gun down!” The sound of Tan’s voice was welcoming as you slowly placed the gun on the ground. “25-David I have Y/L/N. The suspect is down, need medical.”

You got back to your feet when Tan nodded his head, “Thank god. There’s a possible body in the IT room along with the It Specialist Terry.”

“You got your badge on you?” Tan questioned as he cuffed the moaning Ellis up, “Street can you escort her down?”

Street nodded from his position, watching Tan’s back before guiding you to the stairs with hawk eyes. Even off duty, you kept your head on a swivel.

“You caused quite the commotion.” Street spoke halfway down the stairs when you barely mumbled. He caught you as you went down like a sack of potatoes, “Y/N!”

“Adrenaline is crashing.” You moaned, looking at your shoulder where the maroon had grown darker, “I think he shot me.”

“26-David I’m in the stairway. Prepare a medic.” Street spoke into his radio before he strapped the gun away and swept you into his arms, “Think you can have my back?”

“When don’t I?” You wheezed, with the sweat starting to bead on your forehead. As you crashed from adrenaline, you barely noticed being placed on the ground at the main entrance.

A paramedic cutting your borrowed shirt to reveal the bullet hole in your shoulder courtesy of Ellis, the only member who’d thought wouldn’t shoot his gun. You could vaguely hear Maddie calling out your name as you were loaded onto a gurney.

“M-Maddie?” You spoke, tilting your head to see Chris holding Maddie back from, “Chris! That’s my sister in law.”

Chris only let Maddie go when Hondo gave the all-clear, and you were so thankful when Maddie’s hand encased yours.

“Don’t close your eyes.” Maddie pleaded sick with the amount of blood on your skin and soaking through the gauze, “Who’s gonna help me put up with my little brother?”

“Buck.” You breathed sluggishly, blinking as the artificial lights changed to natural with the gun shining through the glass front doors.

“You didn’t let me close mine in that ambulance, so I need you to do the same. Don’t close them. I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.” Maddie cried as an officer pulled her aside as you were stopped. You wouldn’t remember it, but Maddie had to watch as you coded right in front of her.

Maddie had to watch them perform CPR on you and fight for a pulse. She had to think of how’d she’d tell her little brother she’d killed his fiance. The counting of the paramedics sounded as if underwater, and as they did, the world went quiet. Her mind checked out as the trauma settled in.

Maddie stumbled out of the building into a zoo of officers, medics, and news reporters almost robotically. She barely felt Chimney hug her, but she wrapped her arms around him and sobbed.

“It’s all my fault.” Maddie gasped, collapsing against him, “If I had-”

“Maddie?”

Chimney felt Maddie stiffen at the sound of Buck’s voice amidst the multiple voices milling around. Maddie raised her gaze to meet Buck’s blue eyes dripping in relief and question.

“Buck.”

“Maddie, where’s Y/N? Her car…” Buck trailed off, catching the utter heartbreak in his big sister’s eyes. A look he’d come to know in his line of work as a firefighter. The utter devastation that came with watching someone you love die, “No. No.”

“I got a pulse!” Came from the nearest ambulance, and Buck skirted around his sister and Chimney, “Ready to transport!” 

Your eyes slowly blinked at the white ceiling of the ambulance with pain in your midsection courtesy of chest compressions. Breathing came painful, and the bullet wound throbbed, but it all faded when you saw blue eyes above you.

“Buck.” You sobbed, more like groaned, as he was urged to sit on the bench holding your hand, “Maddie?”

“She’s okay. Chim’s got her. Can you keep your eyes on me? I need to see those big beautiful e/c eyes.” Buck soothed, bringing your hand to his lips, “Did I ever tell you my favourite colour?”

Despite Buck’s best attempts, you continued fading in and out of consciousness but continued to be stable. He spoke about the funny video Eddie had shown him of Christopher at the end of their shift last night. He talked about everything and anything under the sun during the short ride to the hospital.

The last thing you saw was Buck being held back as the paramedics pushed the gurney into the ER. Everything turned black.

The beeping was the first thing you heard before your eyes fluttered open to a stark white room and that unmistakable hospital scent. You noticed the second thing as Buck holding your hand in both of his with his forehead pressed against them.

“Buck?” You moaned to the one person you had wished to see. The man whose eyes were bloodshot from crying, “What’s wrong?”

“Your heart stopped beating twice. I thought I was gonna lose you.” Buck cried with his lips pressed against your hand, “I was so worried.”

“Hey. I’m fine. I’m here.” You cooed, tugging one hand away to run through his messy hair with a soft smile. His blue eyes brighten at the familiar feeling of your digits in his hair, “I’m not going anywhere. This isn’t here for decoration.”

His eyes found the ring he’d gently placed back on your finger from when the nurses had removed it. It only left your finger when you were on duty, in which it was slung on a necklace hidden under your uniform.

“Better not be.”

“Does the hospital have a chapel?” You questioned out of the blue leading to Buck snorting as you giggled, “I’m serious. When I was bleeding in that building, all I could think about was you. If Maddie is anything like you, she’s waiting in the waiting room with Chimney.”

“You aren’t wrong. All the chairs are taken. Our family was waiting for you to wake up.” Buck breathed, leaning closer to press a sweet kiss to your lips, “Are you sure?”

“About marrying you?” You softly questioned the man who couldn’t help but believe this was a dream. How he’d somehow got the girl of his dreams to agree to marry his ass, “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. All I want to share is your last name for the rest of my life. You are it for me, Evan Buckley. All the flaws you see are beautiful to me.”

“Only you would want to get married after being shot mere hours ago.” Buck chuckled with a sigh pulled from his pink lips, “I’ll get the doctor for you and find out if we can be married here.”

While you were checked out, Buck left the room to go back to the waiting room where the 118 and your co-workers waited. Everyone perked up at his appearance, Christopher asleep on Eddie’s lap.

“Is she okay?” Bobby questioned as the tension in the room grew more and more. It shattered into relief when Buck grinned.

“She’s sore as expected. She’s gonna catch some sleep, but she’d like to see Maddie.” Buck replied, pinning his gaze on his big sister with her curled into Chimney’s body. Her cheeks flooded with tears of absolute relief, “C’mon.”

The waiting room started emptying with Buck’s promise to keep everyone updated, but before Bobby could step away, Buck asked for him.

“Do you need a few days off?” Bobby questioned just as Buck came closer to the seasoned firefighter.

“No. But could you spare an hour?” The expression on Buck’s face was enough for Bobby not to ask any further questions. He simply followed Buck back towards your hospital room, where Maddie and Chim waited.

“What’s going on?” Bobby inquired, with the addition of the hospital assigned Priest holding the standard bible. Chimney could only shrug in response to whatever was going on.

“I know there have been times we haven’t seen eye to eye, but Bobby, you’re like a father to me. You gave me chance after chance when anyone else would have given up. You guided me on how to be a man. Y/N and I would like it if you’d be here for this.”

“Wait, are you getting married? What about the wedding?” Maddie spluttered, flicking her gaze between her brother and you. Her question surprised her boyfriend and Bobby.

“We’ll still have it. But I want to marry her without the pressure of our parents. Just a private ceremony with some of the people that mean the most to us.” Buck answered for the two of you, “Would you stay?”

“Of course.” Maddie softly spoke with a slideshow of memories playing in her mind of watching Buck grow up.

Watching Evan go through all kinds of injuries, all in the name of attention but never getting it the way he deserved it. She remembered giving him advice for asking out Donna and holding him when he was rejected. The little toddler with the impish grin somehow turned into an idiot in the hospital.

Maddie saw the man her little brother had turned into with the help of the 118 and you.

Buck’s fingers made quick work of buttoning his short-sleeve uniform with the sudden appearance of his friend.

“That’s new.” Eddie spoke from his opened locker holding his uniform and a picture of his family on the door. It was a picture of Christopher, Buck, you and Eddie from the zoo a couple months back.

Buck looked over at his best friend, “Hm?”

“The ring.” Eddie snorted dramatically, looking at the ring that had been living on his finger since he married you five days ago, “Did my invite get lost in the mail?”

“Nah, we just got married in the hospital. We’re still planning the wedding to appease both sides of our family. And I promised Christopher he could be in the wedding. With Y/N on medical leave, the planning will be faster. She’s going stir crazy after five days.” Buck finished tucking in the shirt into his work-issued pants. Lastly, he slid his ring onto the metal chain he had bought recently.

Like you did, he would wear it around his neck when working for safety reasons.

“I’m happy for you, man.” Eddie told his friend just as the bell rang, “You’ll have to tell me how you’re liking the married life.”

“But first, we have a job to do.” Buck supplied all the while jogging to suit up in his turnout gear with Hen and Chimney.

[night-market-if]

This is going to be an absolute mess of gushing, hyping/endorsing Patreon and general screaming into the void.

So I hadn’t played the demo in a good long while and finally sat down with it yesterday. I also Cannot Wait for anything, and OBVIOUSLY wanted that Milo spicy spice so I joined the Patreon and here’s where the endorsement starts: Hey everyone, for that spicy scene alone it’s worth EVERY penny. If you can PLEASE do yourself a favor it’s WHEW and there’s more than that, of course but. Damn.

Now here comes the gushing:I’ve only played through Milo’s route (clearly 😂. And honestly it might be a minute before I go to the others. He’s holding my heart hostage currently akdjdjs) and there are so many parts that have absolutely taken the air right from my lungs. The part where MC asks what he would do in their position. Wow. Your writing is gorgeous, but just the beats in your dialogue are simply perfect, and that was just one shining example. Also playing through both options for the “try to make a life here” and “I can’t move on because it means giving up” and Milo challenging Mc if you go with the second one…my Mc would at one point like to ask “you want to be the pot or the kettle here???” Considering who this is coming from😂 but in all seriousness, their parallels, the way you can feel in the writing that they both want to move forward but there’s that part of them that won’t let themselves, and direct contrast to how they act if you pursue the relationship…. don’t get me started on the juxtaposition of Milo’s actions and the internal conflict going on, how that conflict peeks out from below the surface and MC catches glimpses of it…also Milo being afraid to love MC and move on/his trauma surrounding the loss of Mal paired with the sheer weight of his desire and blatant affection he feels for MC… it makes me want to scream into a pillow. I know there are soon to be bigger fish to fry, but this arc is absolutely devastating in the best way. Also I’m surprised nobody has mentioned this, but Hazel being so sweet and supportive of MC and Milo both separately and as a couple… I love that she is so invested and wants Milo to settle down with someone again and be happy. It just gives me warm fuzzies every time you describe her trying to get the scoop from MC about the two of them. I just. Adore her. And I love all the options to show your gratitude towards her. She deserves all that and more. Bff/assigned big sister.

Also props to that Anon for bringing up the fact any sexual encounter they’ll have in the Night Market is essentially their first. I’m so excited to see how that will play out in conversation now that you’ve said you’ll add it to the game.

That’s the other thing I really appreciate: there is so SO much plot here, but you never ever sacrifice exploring relationships in a quality way for the sake of furthering the story- between MC and the ROs, between the ROs, between the ROs and other characters…major kudos, I know it’s something that cannot be easy, given how much have to tell to propel the plot. So thank you for putting those relationships on the same level as you do the story.

Anyway, I think I’ve rambled long enough 🙈I’m going to be thinking about all of this for a very long time and I’m SO glad I caught up AND became a patron, honestly I waited too long for both! 💙💙💙

Oh. Oh, I don't even know what to say to this. I am floored by your reaction. I truly am. To receive recognition for something I've wanted to do since I was seven years old is absolutely a crazy experience at this point. I sometimes get messages like this and don't believe that it is happening. It's like you guys are talking about someone else. Seeing this come through my inbox today was crazy. You have hit on so many things that I strive so hard to make natural and comfortable within the story itself. I want the romance and the plot to intertwine. I want them to both be subjects people are wanting to read. I want to make characters that are memorable. That have lives outside of what you see. I want so much for this story and the situations and the characters I am crafting and with every chapter I still get nervous that everyone is going to find it boring. LOL!



Thank you so much for your support. I have so much to tell with this story and want to be able to continue to do that. It has been a shocking five months. Five months of the Night Market. It's so little and yet it feels like such a huge chunk of my life. Thank you for all the gushing and thank you for giving me such a chance in this crazy journey we got going.



🪷✨🪷✨ If you want to support me 🪷 ✨🪷✨

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[archonoftears]

info: modern au! reader receives a package that helps her tease her boyfriend while he’s at work. 

warnings: 18+ smut, slight breeding kink (mentioned), lingerie, phone sex (kinda), pretty vanilla, no penetration, just description, a tiny bit of dom/sub (implied through dialogue)

word count: 1,626

authors note: umm head empty, thoughts only filled with laying in zhonglis bed and teasing him over the phone. i really can’t remove myself from modern au! with ceo daddy zhong. so here we are again. not gonna lie though, i found myself looking at dragon dildos yesterday and now i just wanna write dragon zhongli and sacrificial maiden. so maybe after i finish with the first chapter of my other fic i’ll get right on that. 

ps no beta, i just kinda got this out and edited it once. so sorry if any mistakes or issues.

please thirst with me if you want to!!

Glancing around your dining room table you felt defeated by the amount of packages staring back at you. You were surprised by the latest delivery of clothing you had received for PR from a few high end designers. You knew you shouldn't have been shocked, dating a CEO of a multi million dollar cooperation came with many perks. Yet you never imagined anything like this. Knowing the mess would only stay on the table if you didn’t start tackling it. You began opening up a few packages, finding bags and shoes. Even the latest spring wear from the major brand ‘Liyue Qixing’ sat in a box for you. Before setting your eyes on a more intricate looking box. Opening it to discover some of the most beautiful lingerie you had seen in a long time. Looking at the brand name ‘Scent of Spring’. You didn’t recognize it, but you were quite enamored with the pieces inside.

Forgoing opening any more packages you quickly gathered the items in the box and wandered off to the bedroom you shared with your boyfriend. Selecting a ivory and gold silk longline balconette bra, with matching thong, and harness. The gold tulle flowers that patterned the silk and lace were soft and delicate under your fingers. You couldn’t go a second longer without wearing the beautiful set. Quickly stripping off the clothes you were wearing and slipping on the lingerie. Loving the feel of the soft lace and silk against your skin. Staring at yourself in the mirror. 

‘This lingerie had to be designed by some deity who knew Zhongli’s taste.’ You thought to yourself as you admired the way the balconette bra exposed half of your breast and how the thong straps cut into the flesh of your hip in a sexy way, giving your body a more defined silhouette.

A light bulb went off in your head, walking over to grab your phone and opening the camera app, returning back to the mirror. Posing yourself quite provocative as you snapped several photos, dropping to your knees and taking a few more photos, before flipping through them. A coy smile playing on your lips as you went to call Zhongli.

Zhongli was startled by the sound of his phone ringing on his desk, glancing down to see your contact photo, a smile immediately forming on his face, he swiped to answer.

“Hello (name), is everything alright my dear?” Zhongli greeted as he turned from the documents in front of him and leaned back in his chair. You seldom ever called him when you knew he was going to be in the office all day, preferring to email him if you needed anything so he assumed this must have been important.

“Everything is fine, just calling to see what you were up to.” You greeted over the phone. Zhongli let out a small sigh, relieved that nothing was wrong.

“I’m just preparing for a meeting with Fatui Industries in a little bit.” Zhongli started, glancing at the clock to check the time. “What are you doing today my dear.” He asked, knowing you didn’t have much on your schedule today.

“Well I was going through some packages I received, you know the PR kind. It was mostly clothes from some nice designers.” You hummed, he could hear you twirling your hair in your fingers as you spoke.

“Oh really? Hopefully they sent things that are your style.” 

“That’s why I was calling actually. There was this one package, the clothes are really nice. But I think they’re more to your taste, and I wanted to get your opinion on them.” You confessed. 

“Of course, I can do that when I get home for you if you would like.” Zhongli replied, glancing at the clock noting that he had about 27 minutes until his meeting. “I should be done with work after I meet with Signora and Childe.”

“I’m actually sending you a couple photos right now, please check your email and tell me what you think.” He couldn’t put his finger on it, but you seemed awfully excited about all of this but he complied with your request.

“Of course, one moment.” Opening his email, quickly finding the one from you at the top and opening it, his eyes widening in realization as he enlarged one of several photos in the email. His voice catching in his throat as he examined it.

“Are the clothes to your liking, sir.” You cooed from the other end of the phone, knowing very well they were in fact to his liking. 

“Ms. (Name)..” Zhongli growled quietly.

“Yes sir?” You asked innocently, Zhongli aware of the game you were playing, but nevertheless here he was clicking on the next photo, feeling his pants grow tighter as he continued to view the photos. The one of you on your knees sending more blood rushing to his already aching erection.

“Are you being a good girl right now?” 

“I’m always a good girl Sir.”

“Are you? You don’t look to be acting like a good girl in these photos.”

“Then should I send you some more photos so you make sure I’m being good?” He could feel himself getting riled up just by the implications of what was being said.

“Well… I’ve already sent them so hopefully you don’t mind.”

Not needing to be told twice Zhongli refreshed his email inbox to find a new message. Opening it to discover new attachments. Slowly he clicked the first picture. Finding you not in front of the mirror in the bedroom anymore, but now on the black sateen sheets of the bed the two of you shared. Angling the camera in a way to show how you would look if he had you pinned down. You looked ravishing, from the way you let your cleavage spill out exposing your nipples, to the way you spread your legs. 

The next photo your hand was on one of your breast cupping and pinching the nipple. The next photo was taken lower, your hand was now in your panties clearly teasing yourself. And the final attachment was a video, it was no more than 15 seconds, but in those 15 seconds you show yourself pumping your fingers in and out of your pussy, before dragging your fingers out of yourself and licking the wet slick off your digits. Zhongli was taking deep breaths as he watched. His eyes following your every movement.

“Sir…” You moaned, lust lacing every syllable. “Do you think I look like a good girl in those photos?”

Zhongli couldn’t say anything for a moment. Letting the video replay itself over and over, his eyes finding new things to focus on each time it replayed. From the way your plump lips wrapped around your fingers or the way you quivered when you plunged your two digits into yourself. He just wanted to see you do more.

“When did being a good girl equate to acting like quite the little slut? Surely I’ve taught you better than that.” Zhongli replied firmly, as he adjusted the way he was sitting to accommodate his throbbing cock.

“This is what you’ve taught me…” the breathiness of your voice letting him know you were in fact still touching yourself as you replied.

“I don’t recall teaching you to send provocative photos to me while I’m at work.” He glanced at the clock again, 16 minutes until the meeting. Fuck. 

“Did they make you hard?” You asked suddenly.

He was not a liar, so he wouldn’t lie to you. “Yes they did…” 

“Did they make you want to come home and stuff your big. thick. cock inside of me.” The punctionaction of your words were breaking him down.

“Yes they did…”

“Master are you going to come home so I can show you how much of a good girl I am, when I’m milking your cock.”

“My Lily… I-” Zhongli wasn’t used to you being this forward with him.

“I need you to come home and fuck me now. Because if you don’t pump me full of your cum I might go crazy.” You whined your voice working wonders on his resolve. “Please… Please come home and breed me sir.”

One final weak glance at his clock showed he had 9 minutes before they would arrive.

You moaned again calling his name out through the phone, the thread holding his composure together snapping.

“You’re not allowed to cum until I get home do you understand.” Zhongli growled into the phone, quickly on his feet, grabbing his bag and making his way to the door of his office. “Do you understand?”

“Yes sir..!” You exclaimed.

“I hope you understand you won’t be walking for the next few days my Little Lily.” He warned before leaving the safety of his private office.

“Yes yes! Hurry please.” 

“I am.” Quickly saying goodbye and hanging the phone up  with you, while walking towards two approaching figures. 

“Mr. Zhongli goo-” Signora began, reaching her hand out to greet him, but he didn’t meet it.

“My apologies, there seems to be an emergency at home, can you meet with my assistant to reschedule.” Zhongli haphazardly explained. “Again my deepest apologies.” He finished, turning on his heel and b lining it to the exit. Letting the receptionist know that he was leaving and scrambling for the parking garage.

“What do you think his emergency was?” Signora stood bewildered where Zhongli had left her and Childe.

“Do you think everything is alright?

Childe seemed to be having the best laugh of his life as his colleague pondered the obvious.

“Trust me everything’s fine.” Childe said in between laughs. “We should probably reschedule for Monday, he’ll probably need the whole weekend off.”

“This is why I hate partnering with you, you’re too vague sometimes.”

[pillage-and-lute]

(For next time you’re looking for prompts) I really like your writing, and when I thought of this I wondered what you’d do with it: Geralt and Jaskier are together, but agree to pretend not to be for their next stop. Maybe one of them wants to win an old bet, or Jaskier’s not 100% sure his betrothal to a local noble has been officially dissolved, whatever, (not homophobia), fluff and high jinx ensue. Anyway I hope something unexpectedly nice happens to you today.

Hi Dahliavandare! Thanks for the blessing in my inbox  🥰

This ran away from me, tons of backstory about Jaskier’s family. Just, way too much.

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“Geralt, darling,” Jaskier said hesitantly. “I have an errand we need to run, and I’m not sure you’ll like it.”

Geralt hummed noncommittally. They were resting at their camp outside of Hagge and the warm summer air and the feeling of Jaskier curled against him had lulled him into a warm, fuzzy stupor.

“You see,” Jaskier continued, fiddling with the buttons at his cuffs. “I’m a noble, and you know that of course.” He laughed awkwardly. “And I’ve been lucky enough to pawn most of those responsibilities off onto my much savvier sister, but there are certain niceties that landed families observe that--”

“Spit it out,” Geralt grumbled, although not bad naturedly. 

“I’m betrothed,” Jaskier said. “And we need to go to Gwendeith to break it off.”

Geralt turned to look at his beloved. “You’re engaged?”

“Betrothed!” Jaskier yelped, then saw Geralt’s expression. “Oh, dear heart, there’s a slight difference in meaning, especially to nobles. Engaged implies an intent to marry--”

“And betrothed doesn’t?”

“Well, sort of, but I’ve been betrothed practically since I was born, engaged would imply I’m sort of planning the wedding. It’s a contract, a social contract. My family and my betrothed’s are pretty minor nobles, so really it’s just a way of saying ‘maybe someday our kids could marry’. It isn’t the hard and fast marriage it might be if I were, say, a prince.”

“Then why do it?” Geralt asked. Most of the time he was happy to understand as little of the lives of the gentry as possible, but Jaskier was important.

“Honestly,” Jaskier sighed. “I think Papa arranged it because he cared for me, Mama too.”

“It takes away your choice,” Geralt began.

“It doesn’t. A betrothal like mine and... Iliana, that’s her name, only met her twice, it’s sort of social insurance. Especially for her, but for me as well. Nobles are supposed to marry, so, if at some point neither of us had found love we could marry one another. For Iliana there’s the security of having a husband, although from what I’ve heard she can handle herself fine, and for me its assurance of heirs if that sort of thing concerned me, and companionship for us both.”

It sounded...mostly sort of logical to Geralt.

“But I love you,” Jaskier said. “And I don’t want to be betrothed to anyone because I love you and, someday, whenever you get over you allergy to the concept of commitment, I’m going to put a ring on you.”

Geralt hummed gruffly but said nothing. There was a slim golden band hidden away in his bags and he be damned if Jaskier got to propose first.

“I will. Anyway, I need to tell Iliana. I’m sure she won’t mind. I met her once when I was seven and again when I was nineteen.”

“Nineteen, when?” Geralt asked. Most of Jaskier’s nineteenth year had been spent at Geralt’s side. Most of every year after that too.

“Just before I met you. I had travelled east to meet her originally, and was going back west when we met.”

“Tell me about her?”

“Illiana? Oh, well, she told me that she was fine leaving the betrothal in place because it’s standard, but that she doesn’t care for men in that way so she’d never give me heirs and would have my balls nailed above her door if I ever told her she had to.”

“Sounds like she’d get along with Yen.”

“I fear they’d take over the world,” Jaskier said. “Anyway, I told her no worries since, honestly, heirs just aren’t important to me. Then we agreed that when either of us found love we’d break the betrothal and that would be that.”

“Hmmm.”

“No, Geralt, tell me what that means. Is that a ‘okay, let’s go to Gwendeith’ hum? A ‘I’m angry that you’re betrothed’ hum?”

Geralt shifted to poke the fire. “It’s a ‘I think there’s more you need to tell me’ hum.”

“Ah,” Jaskier rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s the thing. We have to go in person because a letter would be rude, but also...we have to pretend not to be together, while we’re in Gwedeith.”

“Why?”

“It’s politics, dear heart. It would be shaming to Iliana, socially. Personally, I don’t think she’d care, but it’s a courtesy thing.”

“I don’t do a lot of lovey stuff anyway,” Geralt said. 

“You think you don’t,” Jaskier said. He began to unroll their bedroll.

“What do you mean, Jaskier?”

Jaskier turned to him, smiling indulgently and gilded in the firelight. “Our lives have molded around one another, my love. When I stand beside you your hand goes to my back or my shoulder. You order dinner for me because you know just what food I like. When I’m tired you don’t have to ask what’s wrong, you just lift me onto Roach behind you.”

Geralt hadn’t even realized he did, but he knew it was true. Jaskier leaned over and pressed a kiss to Geralt’s slightly furrowed brow.

“When my boots are wearing thin you buy me new ones before I even notice. When I’m cold you give me your cloak. If I fall asleep with my head on your shoulder you’d rather sit like that all night than disturb me.”

Geralt shrugged awkwardly. “You buy me beeswax,” he said. It seemed a fair retort. Jaskier bought him beeswax to put in his ears when cities or sometimes monsters were too loud for Geralt’s senses. “You only buy light scents, even though I know you like bolder perfumes.”

“Yes,” Jaskier said, taking one of Geralt’s large, scarred hands. “We love eachother very much, and it’s obvious to people who care to look.”

“That could be dangerous,” Geralt began, his head spiralling towards worry for Jaskier’s safety, but Jaskier cut him off.

“No, dear heart. It’s obvious to those who care to look. The sort of people who would hurt me for loving you, well, most of them think you can’t love, so they don’t look for love, and they don’t see.” 

Geralt sat back. People saw what they expected to see, it was true. 

“We’ll travel to Gwendeith,” he said. “And unbetroth you.”

Jaskier kissed him and his lips tasted like the jerky they’d eaten for supper.

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

The trip to Gwendeith was long. It was at the very edge of any map, past Posada to the east, tucked into the Blue mountains.  They traveled along the Dyfne river, taking the occasional contract but making good time. This far from anything, there were few people to be troubled by monsters. 

They stopped in Posada one night, eating dinner in the corner of a familiar tavern. This time, however, Jaskier was much better received and the bread ended up on the table rather than down his trousers.

Past Posada, and almost to the end of the Dyfne river, Geralt asked, “Why did your parents pick Iliana? How did they know of her?” Lettenhove was entirely the other side of the continent, a tiny island off the coast of Poviss with two villages and a couple flocks of sheep. 

Geralt only knew of it from Jaskier’s descriptions, which were mostly stories of the ice cold sea and rocky cliffs. He tended toward calling it ‘idyllic’ and ‘picturesque’ altough occassionally ‘the arse end of the world’ and ‘colder than an ice giant’s ballsack.’ The first time Geralt had taken Jaskier to Kaer Morhen he’d feared for his bard’s safety in the cold of the mountains, but Jaskier hadn’t even blinked an eye, merely bundling up in a hugely wooly cloak and mittens. 

“Ah, well,” Jaskier said. “Long story, but Papa was in Temeria, see, since nothing ever happens in Lettenhove, because we have more people than sheep, he get’s sent on diplomatic missions a lot. He’s good at it, and he can be spared. He loves it too, even though he’s sort of retired he still does them. Takes Ma, calls the trips his little “sunshine vacations”. 

“You get your personality from your father, then?” Geralt asked. Jaskier didn’t talk about his family much, and Geralt got the sense that, rather than this being because they were horrible, Jaskier simply missed them too much. 

“Definitely. Ma’s lovely, and brilliant with just everything to do with her hands, but she’s not good with people. I got her looks, though.”

“I should thank her, then,” Geralt said, smiling. 

Jaskier chuckled. “Yes, she’s the reason for the long lives, too, fantastic story.”

“Finish the one about your father and Gwendeith first.”

“Right, so Papa was in Temeria, and so was Iliana’s father, sort of the mayor of Gwendeith, as I understand, although not back then. He’d gotten robbed, though, and Papa had won a horse and quite a lot of gold in a card game. It might have been Gwent, I can’t remember. If you ever meet Papa you should ask him. Anyway, he gave the extra horse and gold to Iliana’s father.”

“So your betrothal was a debt?”

“Goodness, no. This was years before I was born, Papa hadn’t even met Ma yet. No, they struck up a friendship, because when Iliana’s father got home he had a mage send a message to Papa to thank him and they struck up a friendship.”

“Sending messages by mage? That’s expensive for a penpal.”

“Ah well, that actually ties in to the story about Ma. Ma’s got magic, just a little, she’s a hedge witch of a sort. The issue is, hedge witches mostly use plants, and Ma couldn’t grow grass, so she mostly works with wood. Anyway, she has a friend, her very best friend, is a mage. They grew up together, and my Auntie Szarlotta sent my Papa’s first few messages back to Iliana’s father.”

Geralt smiled atop Roach. Jaskier’s storytelling pace was as familiar as Roach’s saddle, and it was calming in a way. 

“So, Auntie was sending Papa’s message when Ma came in to visit. That’s how she met Papa, because she’d only just moved to Lettenhove. Auntie says it was love at first sight, but Papa insists that Ma turned up her nose and ignored him for months.”

“Which one is it?”

“Knowing Ma, probably both. She’s a little like you, so the second she realized she liked Papa she ignored him so she wouldn’t have to deal with it.”

Geralt huffed good-naturedly.

“Anyway, Auntie Szarlotta agreed to send Papa’s messages for free, and she even included a way for Iliana’s father to send them back, so long as he wrote his response on the back of the same paper. She always timed it though, so that Ma was over when Papa was there. And I guess the rest is history.”

“Except the immortality.”

“Right, well, Ma got really sick when she was pregnant with my sister, I was little so I barely remember but Papa was so worried, and Ma looked really pale. Well, Auntie got really worried, freaked out a little, and she found all these old spells to try to make Ma well again. I remeber the light, she was working in a room of the old lighthouse and I could see the light of her spells from my window. Anyway, eventually she tries some on Ma, but they don’t work, and she just keeps trying.”

Geralt had an image of a frantic sorceress being watched by a young Jaskier through a crack in a door. 

“But I suppose some of those old spells need a little time to work because nothing at all worked and then they all sort of worked at once. There was this big, bright light and then Ma was well, and she and Papa haven’t aged a day since then.”

Geralt glanced at his lover, who looked the same at fifty as he had at twenty. “And you don’t age? What about your sister?”

“Ksenia hasn’t aged either. She looks like Papa, just so you know, grey eyes, blonde hair. She’s got two kids, now, but I haven’t met them.”

“Do the kids age?”

“Right now they’re very young,” Jaskier said. “I didn’t stop aging until nineteen or twenty, so I suppose we’ll have to wait and see.”

“How do you know she has kids?”

“Oh, well, Auntie Szarlotta sends letters to me, but we travel and it’s hard to send them right to me, so I just pick them up at Oxenfurt.”

“Hmmm,” Geralt said. He needed to go to Lettenhove. Jaskier had met his sort-of-family, he should meet Jaskier’s. 

“I’d love to go see them...” Jaskier said, wistfully. 

“Who?”

“My niece and nephew, they’re almost two and three years old now.”

Geralt picked Jaskier up by the collar of his doublet and placed him onto the back of Roach. 

“We’ll spend the winter in Lettenhove this year,” he said as Jaskier wrapped his arms around Geralt’s waist.

“Really?”

“Hmmm.”

Geralt needed to ask Jaskier’s father for his hand in marriage, anyway.

-- -- -- -- -- -- 

They made it to Gwendeith just after mid summer, riding into the little town at noon. Despite the season, the little mountain valley was shaded and cool. Jaskier shivered slightly and Geralt had to resist the urge to pull his cloak from his pack. From that point forth, they weren’t supposed to be in love.

Fuck.

They had to request a meeting with the mayor, which didn’t surprise Geralt. In a town such as this, logging and mining were the main industries. Trading for food to last over the winter began early and was of the utmost importance. That left Geralt and Jaskier, unfortunately, sitting with a man who introduced himself as Sir Boris.

Apparently he was a retired knight who acted as a sort of captain of the guard, except there wasn’t much of a guard. His wife Lady Olenka joined them and the two of them talked about their grandchildren until Geralt could feel his eyes rolling back in his head. 

At any other time, Jaskier would have placed one gentle hand on his wrist, which would have fortified Geralt, but they couldn’t. 

“But you’re here for Iliana,” Sir Boris was saying. “Dreadfully sorry you can’t see her today, I’m afraid there’s been an issue with the lumber trade to sort out. You’ll just have to have my darling Lenka and I as company until that’s done.”

He sent a huge wink to his wife, a slim, elegant woman, who chuckled and playfully hit him on the shoulder, to which Sir Boris pretended to be wounded before throwing back his head and laughing hugely. Everything the old knight did was huge, he was a large man with a round, red face and large belly and a laugh that could shake walls. 

“It’s no trouble,” Jaskier said. “I’m sure preparing for winter is a year round project here.”

“Oh of course,” Lady Olenka said. “But once it’s here we can all relax, and spend time with family.” She leaned forward as if imparting a delightful secret and said in a stage-whisper, “Boris has been our town’s Father Winter for the last four years.”

Jaskier made impressed ‘ooh’ noises and Geralt tried to at least look like he understood that. 

Boris laughed again. “It’s this lot,” he said, slapping his round stomach. “Better than some old geezer with a pillow down his shirt, eh?”

Geralt hummed in agreement. 

“And you must make a lovely Mother Winter, Lady Olenka,” Jaskier said politely.

She smiled, lines crinkling around her eyes as if drawing a road map. “It’s not as important as Father Winter, of course, but I rather pride myself that I plan a very good Midwinter festival.” Geralt got the sense that behind the modesty she was quite proud, and, he suspected, with good reason.

“But, you must tell me,” she said, modestly changing the subject. “Is there to be a missus Pankratz, now that you’ve come to see Lady Iliana?”

“I am a man in love,” Jaskier said. “And I am hopeful that an engagement will come soon, yes.”

“Oh dearie that’s just lovely,” Lady Olenka said, patting Jaskier’s cheek. “And you’re such a nice boy too, little young looking to be betrothed to our Lady Iliana anyway, although she’s a very dear woman.”

“We just love her,” Sir Boris said. “She’s a great mayor, not keen on marriage, but nobody minds, she just seems to have adopted the whole town as family.”

Lady Olenka patted her husband’s broad shoulder. “It was smart of you not to bring your love here, though. There’s some nobles here from Lyria, that’s who she’s been trading with, and I think they’d like any excuse to disparage here.” She lowered her voice again. “You know how those lot are about having women in charge.”

“I can’t relate,” Sir Boris laughed. “Lenka’s the ruler in our house.” That got a laugh because it had to, and because Sir Boris’s laugh was surprisingly infectious. 

“Good on you bringing a bodyguard too,” he said once the laughter had abated. He slapped Geralt companionably on the back, which was like being hit by a friendly battering ram. “Witcher too, don’t get many up here, but I bet you’re the safest man in a hundred miles.”

“Oh, dear, don’t you know?” Lady Olenka said. “Lord Julian here is a bard as well, he goes by Jaskier and sings all about witchers.”

“Really?” Sir Boris said, looking at Jaskier. “Blimey, imagine that. Good on you, finding a niche in the market.”

Geralt’s ears were beginning to ache. Friendly though Sir Boris might be, he didn’t seem to have a volume level below ‘deafening’. He was tired and overwrought and he just wanted to cuddle up with Jaskier in a bed. It wasn’t even suppertime, though.

They sat through another hour of hearing about Boris and Olenka’s eighteen grandchildren. 

“And three great-grandchildren,” Boris added proudly.

Geralt was thankful Jaskier could carry the conversation. He longed for a kiss, though. Now that he knew he couldn’t have one, his lips fairly ached for one.

Supper was a large affair, with one of Boris and Olenka’s children’s family over for dinner as well. Geralt was seated across from Jaskier between two small children who, apparently, needed to be separated at dinertimes to prevent bickering. They contented themselves instead by asking Geralt every question they could think of, often making him wrack his brain for child appropriate answers.

It wasn’t just witchering questions, either. He answered such questions as “Why is the sky blue?” (Because it’s Melitele’s favorite color). Immediately before answering “How big are dragon scales?” (The small ones are like pebbles and the big ones are like shields.)

Jaskier smiled at him over his bowl of stew, eyes sparkling. Geralt loved children, and Jaskier loved seeing them adore Geralt.

“So, Lord Julian,” Boris and Olenka’s daughter began. “Your lady love, tell us about her?” She smiled Lady Olenka’s warm smile and Jaskier did a good show of seeming bashful. 

“My love is unlike any other,” he began. “And if you’ll pardon my saying so, I’m a poet, and so must wax poetic.”

“Wouldn’t settle for anything less, lad!” Boris bellowed cheefully.

“My darling has fair hair, like moonlight,” Jaskier said, and the table oohed appreciatively. Geralt felt his ears get hot.

“And eyes like summer,” the bard continued. “I could get lost in them. No eyes could compare.” Geralt kicked him under the table, but Olenka was sighing sympathetically.

“But of course,” Jaskier said slyly, my heart is best held by my love’s lips.”

Boris chuckled knowingly. “I’ll bet it is, my boy,” he said, winking. Olenka slapped his arm, but she was smiling. Geralt felt hot.

“I’m afraid, however that my lover is quite modest, and won’t appreciate me extolling too many virtues,” Jaskier finished. “So I must finish with, I love them very much, and it is for them alone that my heart beats.”

Therewith leaving every person at the table (those above the age of twelve, at least) with misty eyes, Jaskier helped Lady Olenka clean up supper. Geralt helped put the dishes away.

After dinner they were led back to the mayor’s house. “I’m afraid the negotiations don’t seem to be finished,” Lady Olenka said. “I had hoped they would be quick, but it seems not. If the issue wasn’t resolved today, I wouldn’t bet on them being resolved too early tomorrow, either. You two don’t have pressing business elsewhere?”

“No, my lady,” Jaskier said, although if they lingered too long they wouldn’t make it to Lettenhove for the winter, as it was, it would be close.

“I’m sure she’ll be able to see you soon,” the lady said. “Here’s your room, and Master Witcher, your room is just at the far end of the hall.”

She said goodnight and Geralt hoped she couldn’t see the slump of his shoulders.

Separate rooms.

Jaskier smiled ruefully at him and they parted for the night. Geralt’s bed was large and comfortable, with clean linens and feather pillows, but he barely got a wink of sleep.

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

The next morning found Jaskier and Geralt breakfasting in the tavern, owned, apparently, by another of Boris and Olenka’s grown children.

“Did you sleep well?” Jaskier whispered over a plate of sausage and eggs.

“Fine,” Geralt grunted.

“I couldn’t sleep a wink,” Jaskier said. “Want my last piece of bacon? I’m stuffed.”

Geralt took it gratefully, slipping Jaskier his fried slice as a trade. No matter how Jaskier protested that he was stuffed, he always had room for a fried slice.”

“Terrible woman,” said a nasal voice at the next table. “Just impossible to do business with.”

“I agree, overemotional, you know how they get,” agreed another voice. Jaskier made eye contact with Geralt. The accent was Lyrian.

“Not even married,” said the first speaker. “What a disgrace. If my daughter got to her age without children I’d just die of shame.”

Geralt pitied his daughter.

“Oh of course,” said the second man. “Attractive, though, for an old maid.”

The first man snickered cruelly. “Thinking a little wooing might soften her up?”

“It always does, women like that, they’re just angry because they haven’t found a man.”

“Won’t your wife mind?”

“Are you going to tell her?” Both men laughed unpleasantly.

A serving girl, maybe sixteen or seventeen, came around the tables, presumably one of Sir Boris’ many granddaughters. She took their plates onto a tray and smiled when Jaskier slipped a few coins onto the tray as a tip.

At the next table  one of the Lyrian’s snapped their fingers impatiently. The girl rolled her eyes. Geralt was pleased to see that, although she served him professionally, as she walked away she ‘accidentally’ tread on his foot.

“What pathetic pieces of shit, the pair of them,” Jaskier said as they stepped out into the sunlight. 

“Hmmm,” Geralt agreed. Then he looked around quickly and pulled Jaskier into an alleyway, urging the bard deeper into the shadows. 

“What? Geralt di-”

Geralt smushed his lips gracelessly to Jaskier’s, crowding him up against the wall. Jaskier’s hair between his fingers was so familiar and comforting, as was the little sigh Jaskier let out.

They pulled apart and Geralt rested his forehead against Jaskier’s. “That’ll tide me over for a while,” he whispered. Jaskier smiled.

“Are you master Julian?”

The pair sprang apart, looking in alarm at the red headed boy at the far end of the alley. 

“Yes...?” Jaskier said.

“Only, Pa said to come find you, and he said you’d be with a big man dressed all in black.”

“And you found us here?” Jaskier asked.

“Didn’t know you’d be here, did I?” Said the boy, stuffing his hands into his trouser pockets. “It’s the shortcut through to the tavern, but then, I figured he’s the only big man in black around.”

Geralt inclined his head, feeling his ears go hot.

“Lady Iliana has time to see you now,” the boy continued, oblivious to the awkwardness. 

“By all means...lead the way,” said Jaskier.

They were led out of the alley and back to the mayor’s house by the messenger boy.

“Out of curiosity,” Jaskier asked. “Is your grandad Sir Boris?” 

“Yeah, that’s him,” said the lad. “He made me a toy sword for my tenth birthday too.” He pointed proudly to the wooden sword tied at his hip with some string.

“It makes you look a proper hero,” Jaskier said. Then he pulled out his coin purse. “A copper for bringing us the message and...another to not tell anyone what you saw.”

The boy looked between the two of them shrewdly.

“Not even my best friend? I tell Mikhail everything.”

“Not until Geralt and I have left.”

“Three coppers total,” the boy said promptly. Jaskier handed them over good naturedly and the boy flashed a gap toothed grin before taking off.

Geralt and Jaskier shrugged at each other, before finding their way to the main room of the mayor’s house. A broad shouldered woman of about fifty poked her head out of a door.

“Julian?”

Geralt and Jaskier went inside.

“You look well,” Iliana said, sitting behind a large desk and gesturing to a couple chairs. “You havent’ aged a day.”

“And you look as lovely as I remember,” Jaskier said.

“Flirt. Come to ask me for heirs?”

Jaskier shuddered. “No, my lady. I remember your threat well. I think you know why I’m here.”

The two Lyrians barged through the door. 

“Did I ask you to enter?” Iliana said, coldly. Geralt felt an unusual curl of fear set up in his stomach, she was a distinctly fearsome woman.

“Well,” said the first Lyrian.

“You were so beautiful, I couldn’t wait on seeing you again,” said the second, slimily.

“Oh I say!,” Iliana said, standing. She placed her hand over her chest in a delicately offended way, which was ill suited to her. “You sir are too bold, and in front of my betrothed too!”

The Lyrians looked, panicked, at the people sat in the chairs. As Geralt was seated in the chair nearest the door, and therefore nearest them, they came to the wrong conclusion. The blood drained from both their faces.

“What an insult!” Iliana continued. “You should be ashamed! What a lack of diplomacy!” 

Beside Geralt, Jaskier snickered. She was laying it on a little thick. 

“Why,” she continued. “I ought to write to your king! I’ve never been so insulted. And I’m sure my beloved will want to sort out this insult too.” She fluttered her lashes at Geralt. 

Geralt nearly jumped out of his seat, but thankfully his brain caught up. He stood, growling a little theatrically and placed one hand on the hilt of his steel sword.

“Our apologies my lady,” the first man said hurriedly.

“Our mistake, we’ll just--” they dissappeared out the door.

“What a fearsome couple,” Geralt heard whispered as the door swung shut.

Iliana sighed satisfactedly and kicked her feet up on her desk. “It seems I should thank you,” she said. “That is going to make negotiations much easier.”

“I’m sure you always get good deals,” Jaskier said.

“Yes. I get the deals I want.”

“You know why I’m here,” Jaskier said.

“Yes.”

“Do you agree?”

“To disolve the betrothal? Of course. Never found a lover for myself so I never bothered but, well, I just don’t do romance.”

“Some people don’t,” Geralt said, thinking of Eskel.”

“Indeed,” Iliana said, smiling warmly at him. “Not all of us have a soulmate to sing us songs.” She laughed at their surprised faces. 

“Oh you fooled them, and you may have fooled Boris and Olenka, but I’ve heard your songs, Julian. It’s written right into everything you do.”

She began rummaging in one of the drawers in the desk. “I don’t mind, of course. So few people know we’re actually betrothed...there it is.” She pulled out an old piece of paper. “I’ll just rip it up if that’s fine by you. You’ll have to do the same to yours of course.”

“We’re going to Lettenhove this winter,” Jaskier said. “I’ll do it as soon as I find it.”

Iliana smiled again. “Father always did say that your dad had a horrible filing system.”

“He filed all his papers on the floor, yes, although I imagine my sister is neater.”

Iliana tore the paper in half without ceremony and placed the contract in the waste paper bin. “Lettenhove is very far away, Julian, will you get there in time?”

Jaskier glanced at Geralt. 

“I don’t know,” Geralt said.

“No matter,” said Iliana. She began writing something on a new sheet of paper. “Our logging teams float lumber all down the Dyfne and Pontar rivers. Show this to the dockmaster at the tip of the Dyfne and our riverboat captains can get you to Novigrad.” 

She pulled out another sheet of paper. “Once you’re in Novigrad, show this to the harbormaster and he’ll get you to Lettenhove.” She looked at their shocked faces and smiled. “Our lumber is the best, and it’s used in everything, including ships. I’m willing to cash in a favor in order to get rid of a useless betrothal.”

“Thank you, my lady,” Jaskier said bowing deeply. “I’ll have my Aunt Szarlotta send a message once our betrothal is fully extant.”

Iliana stood and shook his hand. “I’d appreciate that.”

“Our fathers were penpals,” Jaskier said. “Perhaps we should keep up the tradition?” 

The mayor inclined her head. “I’d like that. I may be too busy to write often.”

Jaskier waved a hand. “I can only pick up messages when I pass through Oxenfurt, but I like to make friends with powerful people.” 

The two of them shared a smile.

“Not to rush you out my door,” Iliana said. “But I do have a lot to do, winter comes early up here, and I know it does as well in Lettenhove. even with my help, you two should leave soon.”

Geralt and Jaskier left that afternoon, just after a hearty meal at the tavern.

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

Across the continent and some weeks later, Jaskier and Geralt stepped onto the docks in Novigrad.

“I don’t think Roach liked the river boats,” Jaskier said as Geralt led her off. Roach whinnied and shook her mane emphatically.

“Sorry, girl,” Geralt said. “You’ll have another long boat journey, and this time I doubt we’ll stop so you can run about on land.”

“Nah,” Jaskier said, as they walked toward a tavern for supper. “Boats from Novigrad to Lettenhove stop around the coast on the way, she’ll get plenty of exercise. It’s something to do with the currents.”

He petted Roach’s muzzle softly as they stabled her at the inn beside the tavern and Geralt felt his heart go out to his bard. Jaskier cared so much for Roach. Geralt thought again of the gold band in his pack.

“C’mon,” he said. “Let’s eat.”

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

Slightly more than a month later, after a slow, coastal boat journey, and then another between Inis Porhoest and Lettenhove, Geralt, Jaskier, and their faithful horse, stepped off the final boat.

“Welcome home, Master Julian,” said a fisherman on the dock.

“Does everyone here know you?” Geralt asked.

“Pretty much, there’s only about three hundred people here.”

News spread fast among three hundred people and Jaskier and Geralt were greeted enthusiastically at the door to the very small castle. A blonde woman who could only be Ksenia, Jaskier’s sister, flung her arms around him, and withing a moment Geralt was being gathered into the hug by a slightly older looking couple.

“Julek,” said the blonde man, pulling back. “My boy, you’re home, and you brought this stunning man, wow, what a looker.” 

“Papa, don’t be embarrassing,” Jaskier said. Geralt flushed clear to the roots of his hair. Apparently when Jaskier said he had his father’s personality he meant all of his father’s personality.

They had dinner as a family, including Jaskier’s niece and nephew, Cecylia and Prot. They had questions for Geralt, and he was grateful for the practice he’d had in Gwendeith. It was an enjoyable meal over all, and afterward Jaskier was distracted by his Aunt Szarlotta while Geralt slipped away to ask Mr. Pankratz a very important question.

The two of them returned to the main hall to see Jaskier pretending to be a dragon, while Cecylia and Prot bravely fought him with butterknives, but he straightened up when he saw the look on Geralt’s face.

Geralt took his hand and Jaskier squeezed it three times, it was their code, asking if Geralt needed to go somewhere that wasn’t so hard on his senses. Geralt smiled and shook his head, swallowing nervously around the lump in his throat.

He got down on one knee and pulled out the gold band. “I’m...I’m not good with words.” Geralt swallowed again, wishing he could borrow Jaskier’s eloquence for five minutes or so. “Marry me?”

The words were barely out from his mouth before Jaskier was tackling him to the ground, pressing kisses all over his face.

“Oh Geralt!” he said. “Wait--”

Jaskier looked up at his mother, who smiled and was handed a paper by his Aunt Szarlotta. Mrs. Pankratz ripped the betrothal contract in half.

“Yes,” Jaskier said, laughing. “I will marry you!”

Then they kissed on the chilly stone floor.

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

Dear Lady Iliana, Mayor of Gwendeith

The former contract has been voided. 

Szarlotta of Lettenhove

P.S. Geralt and Jaskier are engaged and send their love.

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Holy Cow. 5603 words. I...I don’t even know what to say. I hope you like it.