#*shows up six months late with starbucks*

[takeariskao3]

ALREADY GONE Chapter 13

Ginny didn’t know what she expected after their tense agreement next to the kitchen sink. Perhaps that Harry would whisk her away to a variety of places full of deep import and emotional significance. Or that an array of friends and acquaintances would parade through the sitting room at steady intervals to provide personal anecdotes and affectionate recollections. What she got instead was a loose routine that was neither earth-shattering nor particularly interesting.

chapter 1 // chapter 13

[norrizzandpia]

She’s Missed You (OP81)

Summary: In which Nicole and Chris welcome Oscar’s longtime girlfriend to live with them after he leaves, only to not tell him and have to update him when he shows up for a surprise visit.

Warnings: i forgot if there’s language in this, i don’t think so but maybe? Sort of angst, reader really misses him, THE CUTEST LITTLE THINGS WITH OSCAR’S FAMILY (i would write a whole ass imagine about what it would be like if reader was super close to Oscar’s little sisters and took them out on mornings to get coffee and such if y’all would like that lmk)

Note: I KNOW IT’S NOT A REQUEST IM SORRY I WILL GET THROUGH THOSE BUT THERE IS MORE TO COME TN SO HOLD TIGHT

The feverish knocking on the Piastri’s door late at night had Chris clutching a baseball bat in his hands, stepping suspiciously toward the slab of wood. When he reached it, swinging it open and bracing for a manic person to jump out at him, he quickly realized that aggression was not the needed emotion.

Y/n stood with teary eyes, staring back at the man who had become her second father, and asked him quietly, hesitantly if she could come in. The bat was quickly shoved to the corner of the foyer, Chris’s hands coming to usher her in, wrapping around her shoulders.

“What’s wrong?” He asked. Nicole appeared from the hallway and gave him a quizzical look when she saw the way he was hugging their son’s girlfriend, the way he was consoling her.

Their hearts dropped when they heard her cry, “I miss Oscar.”

—

From that night on, Y/n slept in his room. With him being consistently away with F1, the parents had found out she was drowning in the amount of longing she held for her boyfriend, their son. They were accommodating and gentle to the girl they had known for years, even forcing her to call out of work for the first few days in order to settle in. It wasn’t like she hadn’t been over to their house, spending nights there with Oscar multiple times throughout the year before he had left to travel the world. It was just that she hadn’t been there alone. She hadn’t even shown up at their doorstep seeking a stay in his comforting four walls, but Nicole had insisted when she heard the way Y/n was dealing with the hard transition.

The parents were close to calling Oscar, but just when they decided they would, Y/n made them promise they wouldn’t. She had explained to them that if he knew how much she was struggling with his departure, he would come back and that would ruin his good streak with the season. So, the family kept quiet, dodging questions about her when they finally were able to get ahold of their son. His sisters, Chris, and Nicole were the only ones to hold the knowledge that Y/n was sleeping in her boyfriend’s bed. To be honest, they all secretly found it endearing how she would come back to their home after a long day at work, have dinner with the family, and retreat back to his room to smell him on his sheets and in the sweatshirts she stole from his closet.

The girls, his sisters, absolutely adored her being there, seeing as she would take them to Starbucks whenever she could, allowing for their bond to grow deeper. Their Saturdays were spent holing up in Y/n’s car to eat donuts and slurp down sugar coffee while watching stupid YouTube videos and grilling Y/n on embarrassing Oscar moments.

Nonetheless, as fun as it was, Y/n still felt a hole in her heart when she closed his door and came face to face with his empty bed. All she wanted was to see him, to feel him and his touch, yet she would have to settle for their few and far between FaceTimes.

It was so carefully crafted, the secret the family withheld from Oscar, that they were all so convinced he would never find out.

That was until his surprise visit.

—

Rapid knocking on their door for the second time in six months had Nicole and Chris at a loss for words. The raps being thrown against the entry to their house was powerful and held an urgency that was unmistakable.

“Can you get that, Nicole?” Chris asked her as he washed dishes from the dinner they had had earlier that night.

She nodded, traipsing over to the quickening pounds and opening the door. What met her was her smiling son with a large bouquet of flowers in his hands, a sight so dearly missed she almost fell into a puddle of tears.

“Oscar!” She exclaimed, jumping at her son and tackling him in the arms he had grown to seek comfort in.

At the mention of his son’s name and the sound of his wife's squealing, Chris peaked his head around the corner of their kitchen, catching a glimpse of the infamous brown hair. His smile was unwavering as he dropped the glasses with a loud clunk and ran over to the commotion at the front door.

“What are you doing here?!” He laughed as he wrapped his arms around his wife and son, a picturesque family.

Oscar’s muffled voice responded, “Thought I’d surprise you with the free time I have from the race being pushed back.”

The three of them disbanded, Nicole’s and Chris’s confused faces making him continue.

“Spa’s date was pushed back because of the storm they’re having right now. The race is scheduled for two weeks from now, but that could be pushed back as well because of the repairs they have to do. It hasn’t been publicized yet, that’s why you don’t know.”

At the new information, the story came together and his parents were nodding, bringing him into another hug after having not seen him for so long.

“I’ll be right back down, I’m just going to go drop off my bags in my room.” He murmured in their chests as they squeezed him tightly. The two were so excited to see him, they weren’t thinking about the girl that laid asleep in the very room their son was trying to get to.

He was halfway up the stairs when his mother yelled for him despite the rest of the house being asleep, “Oscar!”

He popped his head over the railing, “What?”

She walked to the end of the stairs, curling her finger at him, “I need you to come back down here.”

His head tilted, but he didn’t argue. His steps prodded at the rug underneath and when he reached his mother, she was ushering him to sit down on their couch.

“I need to tell you something before you go up there.” She eyed him seriously.

“Did you redecorate my room?” He deadpanned, looking at her with faux disappointment.

She shook her head, “No, Osc, baby, it’s about Y/n.”

At the mention of his girlfriend, Oscar’s demeanor changed.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, concerned.

She shook her head, Chris coming to join them on the plush cushions, “Nothing’s wrong with her physically. More mentally. She’s really missed you, Oscar.”

He nodded as if it was obvious, “I’ve missed her too. What does this have to do with my room?”

“She’s in there.” Nicole’s words struck him, but she didn’t allow for questions as she continued, “A few months ago, she showed up here and she was… she was just so tired, Oscar. She was crying and telling us how much she missed you, how happy she was that you had fulfilled your dreams, how proud of you she was, but how, at the end of the day, she couldn’t bear not seeing you. There was nothing to do, but try and comfort her which was a hard feat within itself. Understandably so, I came to the conclusion it would be beneficial if she stayed in your room for a while. Get it? She missed you and the only thing I could think would help her was staying in a place that smelled like you, felt like you were there. So, that’s how we ended up here. She’s been living with us for the past few months.”

By the end of it, Oscar was deeply confused for one particular reason, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Chris sighed, seemingly signaling to his wife he would answer, “She didn’t want us to. Trust me, we tried, but she made us promise we wouldn’t. She didn’t want you to hear and then come back here in the middle of the season, jeopardizing how good you’re doing.”

He scoffed, “You still should’ve told me if she was struggling.”

Nicole landed her hand on his knee, rubbing softly, “Oscar, it was better to have her here and watch over her then drive her away by telling you. I would’ve loved to have both, but that wasn’t reality. Reality was that your father and I had to make a judgment call and we decided what was best. That was what was best. She’s gotten better. Sure, she still misses you, but, before, she was living all alone without anyone and I can only imagine how lonely she must’ve been. With her family moving away and everything, she really had no one to come home to when you had usually been there every time. We were able to give her that piece, so we did.”

Oscar’s mind calmed, realizing who he really needed to focus on, and he nodded at his parents.

“I understand, thank you.” He whispered, standing up and walking toward the stairs.

Nicole and Chris didn’t respond, instead watching as their son took two stairs at a time to get to his girlfriend faster.

When he was out of sight, his footsteps looming over them, Nicole whispered to her husband, “I can’t wait until they get married.”

—

His hand smoothed over the cool metal of his bedroom door, taking a moment to calm himself down before opening the door.

What he found was his lovely girlfriend asleep in his childhood bed, a sight that younger Oscar would go crazy for. The Australian shuffled in and closed the door lightly, placing his bags on the floor gently.

When he was ready, he tiptoed over to her side, sitting down and brushing his hand over her arm that stuck out from the comforter.

“My love, wake up.” He said softly, hand caressing up and across her cheekbone.

She stirred, deep in sleep, but settled back down after a few seconds. Oscar smiled warmly, leaning down and kissing her forehead, trailing down to plant a kiss on her cheek, and then meeting her lips lightly.

That seemed to wake her enough for her to realize someone else was in the room with her. Her eyes fluttered open and stared at Oscar for a second. He clocked the way she seemed to hesitate, wondering if it was really him. He wanted her to understand he was really here with her, so he kissed her once more, this time with more intention. His hand smoothed her hair back and when she began to kiss him back, hands falling onto his back, he pulled away.

“Hi, baby.” He said against her lips.

She didn’t say anything, mumbling something incoherent, before her eyes teared up. The shine of the tears falling down the side of her face had his hands coming to pull her up from her laid down position. He pulled their bodies upright, so he could suffocate her in the material of his hoodie and the lengths of his arms.

She cried into his chest, squeezing at his hips when he whispered how much he loved her, how much he missed her.

Oscar was tired from traveling and even though his eyes felt heavy, he still initiated the conversation he needed to have with her, “Why didn’t you tell me you were staying here? Why didn’t you tell me you were struggling?”

Her head stayed glued to the hardness of his body, “Because I’m not going to be the kind of girlfriend that can’t handle her boyfriend going away from time to time.”

“But, baby, it’s not from time to time. It’s every weekend. You’re entitled to struggle, I was struggling just as you were. If you don’t tell me what’s going on, I can’t help you and I can’t be the boyfriend I want to be for you.”

She nodded as she sniffled, “I guess, you’re right. I just don’t want you to think that you have to come back here every time you get a break. I want you to be able to travel and see what your job allows you to see. You’ve always loved to travel, I don’t want to be the reason you don’t pursue that to its fullest extent.”

“No, Y/n, I want to come back here every time I get a break. I know I love traveling, but I’m doing it so much now that when I do get time, I don’t want to spend it off somewhere foreign, I want to spend it with you.”

He took her silence as agreement, shifting the two of them in his arms so they could lie back down on his small bed.

In the darkness of the night, he watched her fall back asleep easily, wondering if that had been something she had had trouble with during their time apart like he did.

He was so enthralled with her finally being back in his arms, he didn’t realize how long he had been watching her sleep until the rising of the sun mocked him.

It was only when the commotion of his household began to erupt, Y/n waking up beside him and suggesting they sleep in a little longer, that he allowed himself to fall asleep right next to the girl who had missed him dearly.

The girl he had missed dearly.

[atalossofwords]

YOU TASTE THE SILVER - IvanTill WIP (Part 11)

After basically two months, here we go! I'm so sorry for the delay, but I had tests, and then got sick, and then family problems, and some other shit, but! I think I'm getting everything back on track now.

If you've read the Mizi POV extra and was looking forward to a continuation of that, I'm sorry to say that I ended up moving things around for a better flow of things. So no hand-delivered gift for Till.

Without further delay, here's Till's POV of the recording and when he decided to call Ivan.

ON AO3 - part one - part two - part three - part four - part five&six - part seven - part eight - part nine - part ten

Till couldn't believe this was happening.

The last few weeks have been... a blur, almost. His streaming is going well, his songwriting is better than ever, and he's been just generally happier with life.

(He tries not to think about why. If he does, he'll end up thinking of late-night chats and the ping of money being dropped into his account, Ivan telling him to get something nice. He still has no idea what they're doing, but Till... wants. He just has no idea what he's yearning for.)

It all goes up to eleven when Mizi's manager sends him an email. He has Hyuna and Dewey check it over with him to see if it's not a scam, and it's not until Mizi sends a video talking about how much she'd like to record a cover with him that he starts trusting it.

It's still surreal.

He feels on cloud nine, going through his routine and streams barely paying attention, focused on the date he's set to meet with Mizi and on the details of the collab. He talks with Mizi's merch manager, designs the keychains himself, asking Dewey to draw the little chibis of himself and Mizi. They discuss the single's cover, and set a date for a photoshoot.

He does all that on autopilot, feeling like he's suddenly been submerged in a pool of warm water. Everything is muted and muffled, slow and timeless.

(He doesn't notice the looks Hyuna and Isaac send him, all amusement and pride. He doesn't see Dewey's pride and worry. He doesn't realize Ivan is texting less and less, these days.)

He feels himself come out of it standing on the doorstep to the studio, suddenly assaulted by the sounds of the world outside, the chill of being outside the water.

Dewey, who came with him to talk to Mizi's manager about the art for the T-shirt, rolls his eyes.

"I knew you were just pushing it down. Come on, breathe with me." He says, one hand on Till's back to coax him to inhale. Till knows the breathing exercise from when Dewey and Till still lived with their mother, both tucked into Dewey's bed as he took deep breaths and told Till all about this new show he was seeing in the hopes of taking his mind off of whatever was happening in the rest of the house.

It's a few minutes before he can breath by himself, and thank god they came in early. Till scratches his nape, embarrassed. He doesn't know why he almost had a panic attack; it's not like anything bad is happening.

"Sorry, I'm fine now." He says, not looking at Dewey. His brother makes a highly skeptical noise, but squeezes his shoulder before letting go.

"Want me to set a half-hour checkup?" he asks, and Till relaxes some more. This means Dewey will come rescue him in half an hour unless Till sends a message otherwise, and having the excuse to get away because his brother insisted is a blessing.

He nods, sheepish, and Dewey snorts before towing him into the building. Soon enough Till is sitting on a meeting room of sorts, just outside the actual recording booth, tuning his guitar alongside Mizi's audio guy. So far it's all been professional stuff, things he can deal with. He's almost confident this won't end in disaster when the door opens and he hears Mizi's cheerful tone greeting them.

"Till! It's so nice to meet you!" She greets, and he somehow manages to do his own greetings without making too much of a fool of himself. She's setting her things down, and puts a Starbucks cup in front of him. "Here you go! I checked with Ivan to see what you liked, so I hope it's right!"

"Oh, you didn't need to, I'm sure it's perfect!" He says, ignoring how he perked up at the mention of Ivan.

Just as he expected, his drink is perfect. Ivan already knows Till's coffee order, his usual take out, and many other things. He doesn't know why he's so pleased by that.

Surprisingly, the rest of the session goes smoothly. Mizi is a professional, and she catches the groove of the song quickly. They harmonize easily, and Till feels so good he almost forgets his check-in with Dewey.

Mizi is just... So nice, and cheerful, and kind. He doesn't feel out of his depth, or like a star-struck fool. She asks about his inspiration, and what he was thinking when he wrote it, and soon enough they're wrapping it up, all the vocals and instrumentals recorded.

He's picking his things up when he sees the cup again, and he just... has to ask.

"Hey, Mizi-sunbae. Can I ask you something?" He says, watching as Mizi types something on her phone.

"Yeah, of course! What is it?" She says, looking up and smiling at him. He can't help but hitching his bag up his shoulder, embarrassed.

"How did you and Ivan meet?" He asks, because asking if Ivan said something else about him is just pathetic. And he's curious. How did Ivan manage to get him those tickets, what sort of relationship does he have with Mizi that she asks for Till's coffee order so casually?

"Oh, he's my friend's little brother, so I've know him since we were, like, 14." She says, waving a hand in the air. "He's kind of my little brother, too. Oh, look!" She says, looking back at her phone and typing for a little before turning her phone to Till.

It's a picture of Mizi and her roommate, Sua, who Till knows vaguely through a few pictures on the fan website. There's a man besides them, squeezing his cheek to Sua's. They're all smiling, dressed casually.

Mizi is talking, saying something about Ivan asking her to show him how to do Aegyo, and Till is... not listening.

It's Ivan, the actor Ivan. The handsome, rich, way out of his league Ivan, who allowed Till to chat to him about himself for an hour, who goaded Till into binging all his movies.

This can't be fucking happening.

Till focuses again, and Mizi is telling him about how Ivan showed her and Sua his covers, about how she got his song in her head.

Till, somehow, manages to finish the conversation. He thanks her for liking his songs, praises how the cover will end, and accompanies her to her Manager's office to sign some papers.

He and Dewey leave the studio and Till doesn't say much, but does smile and tells Dewey he's alright, it was wonderful.

He spends the ride back thinking. About Ivan, about how they met, about how Ivan is so eager to give Till everything he could ever ask for, how he1s so careful to remember things Till tough were just throwaway comments.

He heats his dinner in a haze, thinking over his emotions, the warmth on his chest every time Ivan messages, almost dropping his plate when he realizes Ivan has been pulling back, has been more distant, steering the conversation away every time Till talks about Mizi, as if the subject is uncomfortable to him. Like he knew Till was meeting with Mizi, and though that after it Till wouldn't want to talk anymore.

He waits until he's on his bedroom, on his pajamas, sitting cross-legged on his bed, to send the message. He wants to ask Ivan why he hid himself, why someone like him puts so much attention on Till of all people, but above everything else...

He needs to tell Ivan how much their interactions mean to Till, he needs to make it clear Till is not stopping their conversations, even if Ivan stops sending him money.

YOU [ 07:44pm ] Can I call you? We need to talk.

[givethemsmut]

The Pack | Chapter Four

Characters: Dylan O’Brien, fem!reader

Pairing: Dylan O’Brien, Dylan x You

D Y L A N ‘ S P O V

It was hours later and I still hadn’t come out of my room until it was time to eat again or all the deliver pizza was gone. I headed to the kitchen and ran into Posey with Alex, the new blonde, hanging on his every word and muscle.

I was still pissed at him and purposely let my disgust show at their flirting in front of me. “Hey man. Sorry about earlier but you had to hear it.”

I slammed down my water down and turned to him, “Take your own advice. You don’t know her but it’s okay she’s over and you’re screwing? Whoa slow down, killer.” I turned to Alex, “You’re like the fifth girl this month. Makes you wonder if he cleans his sheets, huh?”

I took my keys off the counter and headed towards my car. I needed a break from my best friend. I just started driving with no destination until I texted her.

ME: Let’s meet up. I’ll come to you.

She was reluctant. She said she was busy but we both knew it was a lie. I had to settle for texts.

ME: Sorry about Tyler. Ignore him. You aren’t some rebound okay? As soon as I bumped into you I knew I wanted to know you.

HER: Six years is a long time. You must be heartbroken. You have to heal.

ME: I’m bummed but I’m not devastated. I’ve seen you more in two days than I’ve seen her in months, okay? We were trying to hard to make it work.

HER: What do you mean?

ME: All we were good at was having sex. We didn’t talk anymore. We didn’t wanna see each other. We weren’t being there for each other anymore.

HER: Still…

ME: Still nothing. So what we got wasted and fucked. We made it right - we hung out, talked. We didn’t bail and call it a regret.

Y O U R P O V

I didn’t text him back at all. I had class to focus on and avoiding Brody who was waiting across the street to make sure I wasn’t being held hostage by a stranger. I pretended not to see him in the meantime.

Making a violent work place for my Dad wasn’t an option so forgetting Dylan ever happened was my only option left.

I loved Brody and that hurt enough being rejected for something so lame. I can’t imagine Dylan’s heart being rejected after six years worth of memories. For the next two weeks I kept to myself, Alex, school, and Starbucks. Those were my GPS markers and I realized how lame I was but it kept the organ in my heart from breaking.

My dad was actually home one Tuesday night which was odd considering he had a lot of night shoots lately. I was heating up some soup when he sat down at the island inquiring about Dylan.

“So what’s going on with Dylan?”

I raised an eyebrow confused, “Well that was weeks ago. Thanks for asking.”

I sat down with my soup and a water across from him at the same kitchen island as him. “No, seriously. He’s been a raging teenager on set.”

“He’s young enough. He also plays a teenager. Method acting?”

“Him and Tyler are normally full of laughs, energy. Did you guys fight? Break up? Was it the sex part…? Not everyone will be Brody.”

“Dad! God! You can reserve this conversation with Dylan on set. I’m not talking about this with you.” I stood up completely overwhelmed and pushing my soup aside.

His eyes withered down to pure sympathy, “I don’t know a lot but I know Brody pressured you… if Dylan is pressuring you…”

I let my eyes fix on him while I spoke, “You can’t have issues with sex when you have no comparison. And we didn’t break up because we never dated. Look, I don’t know what his tantrum is about. I haven’t spoke to him in weeks.”

Abandoning my dinner entirely, I tossed my MacBook on my bed and closed my bedroom door behind me. The chirp immediately jolted my head towards the open computer showing Alex was trying to FaceTime me. Once I hit accept, I saw Tyler next to her once I was paying attention.

“Girl! Where have you been?!”

“School, Starbucks, home. Repeat. I see you’re chilling with Tyler still…” Maybe giving Alex a GPS marker was to just make myself feel better.

She must have been on her phone because he fell out of frame and was moving, “You probably don’t wanna hear this but it’s like going really well. He’s so sweet. Let’s be real… a total babe too. He’s been staying with me. He has to escape Dylan for while.”

“Why is everyone concerned with Dylan? And telling me?” I groaned between my words, sighing too heavily after.

“Girl. You happened. You left him without any word or explanation.”

I shrugged, “Talk to your new man. He’s the one who pulled Dylan from his room to tell him I was a bad idea. I just agreed.”

“Well he’s been acting crazy. Being a diva on set, giving Tyler attitude, booking up with random girls and drinking. It’s crazy! Completely downhill as far as Tyler has told me.”

“Well he can’t act like a child because one girl blew him off. He’ll survive. Girl, I gotta write a paper. I’ll text you tomorrow.” I closed my computer so fast I felt the fire ride up my neck into my cheeks. I was embarrassed and a little in love with being his downfall.

Brody pressured me to give him every ounce of me but not having me didn’t ruin him either.

The next morning I stopped at Starbucks for a venti iced coffee before class. I could feel my eyes burning and watering at the exposure of the LA sun from not sleeping. All I did was turn and turn, physically wrestling my decision to not even give Dylan w chance.

My only morning class was a lecture too as if I wasn’t already struggling. Sitting in the back I hid in plain sight when about 30 minuets after a packed class was losing focus the old, heavy, door sounded. I couldn’t see without glasses but I heard his voice and instantly slipped deeper in my seat.

Shit. Dylan.

He interrupted the teacher, “Hey, um sorry sir it’s an emergency. Life and death.” He raced up the stairs to me after scanning the room and I hoped my blending in skills finally worked.

I could hear the entire class was whispering, clamoring, trying to place his familiar face.

Am I literally the last person alive to not watch Teen Wolf? Really?

He kneeled down whispering, “Hey. Can you come with me? I pulled a lot of Teen Wolf strings to find your classroom.”

I closed my MacBook quietly before swallowing my pride, “Dylan. I’m in class.”

He grabbed my bag, “And? I just got you a hall pass.”

I didn’t move so he turned to the class, addressing them like he was about to make a speak. “Hey guys. I’m Dylan. I play Stiles on Teen Wolf on –“

I grabbed his arm urging him to stop. “Fine. You win,” as I got up leading him outside. Soon as we were safely in the hallway I asked him, “Mind telling me what this about?”

He shrugged, “I wanted to see you. My car is over there, blue Jeep, hop in.”

I sat in the bucket seats of his car, climbing inside the same car I parked next to the day I ran into him. “Heard you’re being awful to everyone.”

He played shocked well, mouth open and almost laughing because he knew it was true. He said, “Me? Nah. I’m always a peach.” He smiled big and started his electric blue colored Jeep. After driving 10 minuets in silence he said, “Okay. Caught me. I was a dick to everyone… I didn’t wanna stop knowing you okay? I don’t like being the guy who fucks for the sake of getting off.”

I was shocked he felt that way. He must of saw how shocked I was because he continue, “Okay, calm down. You don’t have to be so shocked. Your dad is our produce, he doesn’t tell you things?”

“Not about the cast and sex…”

Dylan pulled into a small local shop, “I refused to do a sex scene in Teen Wolf. They added it for ratings. Not for the character development.”

I was now even more shocked. His job is to act, really anything, and he refused because of personal morales. We both got out and I asked him, “If we weren’t wasted would you still have had sex with me?”

He opened the door to the shop for me, “Kissed you sure but not sex. Welcome to my favorite restaurant. We’re going on a real date so you can reject me like a normal person.”

I couldn’t help but smile some, he was smooth and he view on sex was genuine. Similar to mine instead making myself fit into someone’s box. We found a small table in the corner with a large window and he started ordering everything when half way through he turned to me, “Can I order for you? Do you want anything or just me…?”

I laughed knowing he was anyways. “So Alex and Tyler…?”

Dylan laughed, “This month. I mean no offense. Girls like the abs and the wolf status then get bored and leave. But yeah she’s been around. She was on set the other day too.”

“Two divas on set, wow. My dad was complaining and trying to blame me for your behavior. Somehow our not existent relationship is effecting you. He even asked if we had an argument.”

Pushing himself closer to me, “I may have lost it a minuet. He’s a hypocrite! She’s on set, new, they don’t know each other and fucking like bunnies. I actually like you and he tells me it’s a problem? Fuck off, bro. We have bad timing, isn’t that every romantic comedy?” I laughed seeing him fired up was funny as anything. “Least your dad thinks I’m boyfriend material.”

I laughed again the food arrived my mouth salivated at how perfect a meal this was. Our conversation felt endless. Everything from his sister’s journey on coming out, his parents, worrying about the future.

After we made it back to the car it was hours later. Both of us settling in the car he turned to me, his hand reaching out to touch my leg. “So I shouldn’t be asking you this but how’s adjusting to life post virgin?”

I nearly hugged myself feeling very vulnerable at the time, “It’s different… before I could focus but now I’m like distracted constantly. It’s like an itch you can’t scratch. Anything can distract me and I’m all of a sudden I’m… you know.”

He jumped in and finished my sentence, “Horny?” Putting his hand on my thigh and gently squeezing, “You gotta get it out of your system. Your body knows it’s new.”

I got excited just from his hand so much I quivered inside against the butterflies. “So I’m just suppose to sleep with anyone until I’m use to it and it’s not distracting anymore?”

I was being sarcastic but he turned to me even more, “No. Just with me. My place or yours? Let’s avoid our best friends judging us.”

[safaiagem]

The Hour of Separation - Chapter 1 - Part 2 of the More Than Endless Repetition series - Dead Boy Detectives - Edwin Payne / Charles Rowland

Yes, hello. Look at me not showing up to a fandom six months late [with Starbucks]; this might be a record. We're also doing something we haven't done in a while: posting as I write the story, and things are already out of control. This wasn't supposed to be the first part, but the first part is already pushing 5,000 words, so here's part one. I am working on getting back into daily writing after a months-long slump. So no promises on how fast I'll get this stuff out; I'm a sucker for kudos and comments like anyone else. The entire thing is plotted out, though. This technically takes place in the same universe as my fic Sleeping Wake/Waking Sleep, but that won't come in until later, and it's mostly a connection with Johanna. I'm also painfully American, so if my Brit speak is terrible, just give me a pass; I know. Also, I know Niko's explanation is extremely vague; we're just handwaving past that. It's not the focus of this story.

The problem with solving big, flashy cases and going international is that you become well-known. Word came down about everything the Dead Boy Detectives managed to do in Port Townsend, and they have never been busier. The problem with becoming more well-known is that you don't always draw the kind of attention you want. You might jump onto the radar of someone with a grudge just looking for an excuse.

[far-side-skies]

Storm Hawks 'Bird' OC Challenge - April 2024 (Late April Fool's. Boop)

*crashes in four days late with half a biscuit and a crushed starbucks up, with numerous paw prints dotted on my body*

Happy April, Sky Knights!! This year the joke was the entire month of March because it kicked my ass!

Anyway I'm finally here with April's challenge! I am delaying the March compilation to allow a couple more entries to come in, including my own because burnout sucks. But for now I'd like to show y'all the Honduran White Bat (Ectophylla alba)!!

Aren't these lil stinkers cute? These bats are unique for their entirely white fur, which is only found in six out of 1,300 known bat species. They create 'tents' out of leaves by chewing them until they collapse into a roof-like structure that they huddle under in small groups during the day. They also really like figs.

The approximate deadline this month is Tuesday the 30th of April. I'll see y'all then!

[vaguely-concerned]

hey. hey did you just post *69k* of zeblue fic this month. I unfortunately don’t have time to read it right this minute but I just saw them in the tag and I wanted to say I am SO excited to start. I am so fond of them and this is genuinely such an exciting thing to see

Hahaha yeah I guess I did! I have been working on those fics (and a zeblue comic I also finished in february come to think of it. wtf) concurrently for a looooong time now, inch-by-painful-inch style, so I didn’t think of it like that, but I really did show up six-ish years late with starbucks and went ‘anyway here are all my thoughts and feelings’ and dropped all of that off basically in one go huh fhdkfshda  

This was such a lovely message to get, though, and I hope you have a good time with the fic when/if you get the time to check it out! I loved these characters so much that my brain wouldn’t shut up about it for a whole year, and it’s nice to know I’m not alone in that out here in the post-canon wilderness :)

[dizzybevvie]

Politely asks if you have any OCs, and if you want to show off their designs or ramble about them if so?

Hello anon i am about to present to you some of the most boring motherfuckers youve ever laid your eyes on.

OK SO.

In late january 2 years ago, me and my good friend Raya (@ randomstuffifindinteresting) were makin stupid unfunny jokes about the stereotype of the hypermasculine homophobic dudes with so much internalised homophobia. Thus, Chad, Brad and Jake were born.

I dont draw them seriously very often, its mostly meme redraws, but theyre very basic looking people and dont have a hell of a lot going on with their outfits anyway. you can see a majority of the memes and stuff at (@oh-em-gee-oh-sees) but theyre a little old.

[Chad, Brad, Jake(theres no yellow); and their good friends Vivere and Mori]

So Brad is kind of the favourite because both me and Raya want to smooch him LMAO. Hes 6'1, a lil chubby, got big ol tits and one of them big ol curved noses. Personality wise, he's more reserved than anyone else in the group and likes to listen more than he likes to contribute. He doesn't feel like he has many hobbies or interests because he just moves through life. He likes to be an observer. He is BIG into music though. I guess you could say its his special interest, but he certainly doesn't know that. He particularly likes women's pop music kind of as a comfort thing? Growing up, it was just him and his mom so he finds it calming. He doesn't bring it up very often though. Whenever he's zoned out at the kitchen counters you can imagine he's thinking about it. He also likes baking, but he doesnt do it enough to consider it a hobby.He's also pretty sensitive but struggles to be emotionally available. His love language is acts of service and quality time. He's for sure autistic but I dont know if he knows that lmao. He likes bracelets, especially beaded ones with coloured string inbetween because he likes to pick at them during the day. He has some weird aunts and uncles that pop up time to time, usually with no idea that he cut off the rest of his family for reasons I won't get into. They're all eccentric, but they're all very sweet.

Chad is Brad's husband and possibly the only functioning member of the group. Hes the only one who can carry a conversation outside of them, be it a starbucks employee or their upstairs neighbours. But hes also fuckin angry all of the time. It doesnt take a lot of teasing to piss him off and when he does he gets this very slight southern accent on some of his words, which only insights more teasing. Mostly from Jake. He fucking HATES Jake (affectionate). He is actively working on it though, and he has gotten a better at controlling it. He's banned from the kitchen and has been since about a month after the three dudes moved into their apartment. Safe to say, Brad does most of the cooking. Chad's definitely the strongest of the group, which is absolutely definitely not overcompensation for his height and how inferior it makes him feel. Like, realistically he knows its stupid to be that hung up on it, and no one actually cares, but his parents were VERY strong on gender roles and it stuck with him. If his dad, who would take him outside to chop wood and thats it found out he grew up to be 5'4? Chad doesn't like to think about it. His parents do know though. They're the only ones in contact with any of them, and noone is thrilled about it. Every six months or so, they'll travel up north to see their son and ask him all the typical questions. Do you have a girlfriend, whenre you getting married, etc. Not out of ignorance either, they know he's married and they often do it while his husband is in the room. His dad will often make snide remarks about his physicality disguised as jokes, too. And although Chad gets furious at them every single time, he's the best at not blowing up when its them. He'll squeeze Brad's hand whenever something happens, but thats about it. Until they leave and he has to lay down from how exhausted he is. He only lets them stay because a part of him wants to believe they'll accept him. And they dont even know about Jake. He goes to stay at the girl's apartment while theyre over. Chad's discomfort in femininity certainly doesn't last long, though, because he's the type of person who runs STRAIGHT at what he's afraid of swinging wildly. He started wearing dresses and such, and a few weeks later started doing small-scale performances in restaurants and local theaters, for which Vivere was the ultimate hypeman. He probably wouldn't wear a dress without an occasion, but hes comfortable enough to do so now.

Jake is a fucking. loudmouth. Everythings a game to him. He likes to poke at people (metaphorically and literally) to see where the limit is. Whats frustrating too is that hes good at it. He's good at finding where the limits are, what not to say, what exactly to say thatll push your buttons but not in a way thatll actually upset you. He likes to be annoying as possible. This goes hand in hand with his avid use of sex jokes. All the time. He's a big fan of the kind of comedy where you take a joke thst isnt funny to begin with, and then run it into the ground until its dead and gone. He especially likes to tease Chad because hes the most reactive,and he finds the southern accent fucking hilarious. He's your typical blonde-guy-with-mullet - He likes to drink energy drinks until his chest hurts. He vapes, which everyone else hates (except Brad, who only really has an opinion on it because Chad does). He won't say anything about it until it becomes to much for him and he breaks down, but its partially self sabotage. As is his hypersexuality. He has a weird relationship with sex in that being hypersexual is freeing from his hyperreligious upbringing, but he also uses it as a way to hurt himself. Mentally he's definitely the worse off. He's the smartest too, but chooses not to use it. He slips in and out of polyamory with Brad and Chad - they consider themselves 'dating' but it wont ever go further then that and hes free to do whatever outside of that. Its very casual, and Jake has an intense fear of commitment. Its kind of just him appearing at their door at night and asking if he can sleep in their bed that night. He's a LOT worse than he lets on. He does have anxiety which mostly manifests as him picking at his fingers until they bleed. He'll occasionally have panic attacks and the like, for which he has a psychiatric service dog that Ive only done an hour or so's research on so Ill do that soon. His name is still undecided because he had an original name that was stupid, but now hes a service dog and not just a pet i wanna change it, lmao. Despite all of the redirection and unhealthy coping mechanisms, Jake is a very loving person and his friends love him too <3! He and Brad have been best friends since year 4/3rd grade. They met because Brad was drawing and Jake came over and was like "wow youre good at drawing. can you do the keep out signs for my secret hideout?" and then Brad followed him around like he'd been adopted by an extrovert. They met chad in school about 4 or 5 yearz after they became friends.

Vivere is our resident person who could for sure intervene and fix thing but instead is going to watch it burn down. I wouldn't say shes lazy, she's more just someone who wants entertainment, and shes found an easy source. She can be pretty genuine, but she's always lighthearted. She's on the ace spectrum, but couldn't tell you where. She and Jake are best friends. Shes the bright ideas, hes the execution. They remind me of Team Rocket LMAO. She is an avid cheater of games. She has never not cheated at a board or card game. She brags about cheating but she has a poker face of steel. She'll make monopoly trades with Jake in order to fuck over the other players. Its easy to spot when Jake's cheating because he cant stop grinning, so Viv likes to set him up and encourage it to take the attention off of her ploys. Other than that, she's really into reading. Shes partial to horror, but she'll read just about anything. She also loves animals, But not the typically cutesy ones. She likes reptiles and bugs most. She and Mori have a gecko called Egg and if anything happens to him she'll run away forever /j. She also loves looking into pseudoscience, because she finds it interesting whether or not she believes in them. She is a strong believer in the principles of yes-and and will commit to a bit even if it kils her. She's here for a good time, not a long time.

Mori is tied favourite with Brad, for sure. She's 6'4 and always smiling - not a big one, but its always there. Like what can i say? she loves her friends. She likes kind of old-timey things. She has a pocket watch that never gets used but is there, on of those dial up telephones, etc. She loves collecting too, so she has an EXTENSIVE record collection that she considers her life's work at 22. She loves the sea and pirates and everything that goes with it. Mori also has a few ships in a bottle placed delicately on her windowcill. She's REALLY good with animals and trains dogs for work. She's a dog person for sure. She and Viv eventually want rats, but theres not much space in their apartment for the amount they would need and they have Egg for now. In terms of her dynamic in the group, she serves as the mediator - particularly when playing a game like Uno or Monopoly. (Side note: they had to write colours on the cards for both games because of her colourblindness. Does she know shes ginger? good question, i dont know.) Unlike Jake and Viv who are determined to cheat the rules, Mori is more flexible in the way that she'll change the rules for the group if a compromise is needed. She's the second most social competent after Chad, shes just very charismatic. She also is the Dungeon Master when they play DnD together. She's big on dice collecting. She has them all organised by colour (Vivere helps lmao) in jars and displayed on her drawers. The group is extremely tight-knit and are almost always with atleast one other member of the group, but Mori has never been spotted in just a tshirt and jeans. The pirate outfit stays on during sex /j. What does she wear for pyjamas? No one knows. Vivere refuses to tell.

Uhhhh yeah I think thats basically it, LMAO. Tysm for asking and sorry this took a while to answer. but yeah! Here's the little dudes!!!! TBH i always enjoyed OCs that dont have any magical powers or plot theyre just people livin their lives, lmao. <33

[nomettesbizzareadventure]

bruno, mista, and fashion :3c (and happy birthday once again!!!)

    Mista doesn’t mean to spill the wine on Bruno’s suit; it just happens. There’s the sound of bullets and the squealing of tires, and then Mista is pushing Bruno to the ground and yelling “get down capo!” and well. The suit is ruined even before Bruno zips a man’s head off and gets blood everywhere. Mista feels guilty for all of one day, and then he goes to visit Bruno at his apartment and finds him already looking crisp in a fresh new suit, identical to the old one. 

    “Do you have a whole closet of those?” Mista asks. “Not that, uh, it’s any of my business. They look good. I thought they were custom.”

    “They are,” Bruno says, and then he smiles. “I’ve been meaning to introduce you to the tailor.” 

They take Mista’s vespa down to a little district just south of their turf, a quiet area mostly populated by grandmothers and children. Bruno knocks on one of the doors and an old lady answers. 

“This is my friend, Guido Mista,” Bruno says, and Mista takes off his hat politely. They go into the house, which Mista quickly realizes is a store, and the old woman gestures for Mista to sit down on a stool and starts measuring him. 

“Whoa, you don’t need to do that,” Mista says, slightly alarmed. The old lady ignores him. 

“Signora Pazzi does all my suits for me,” Bruno says. “It’s my honor to wear them.”

Signora Pazzi shakes her head.

“The one who is honored is me,” she says. “You’re a good boy. This one is a good boy too, even if he wears street fashion.” She sniffs disdainfully. “After I’m done measuring you, you can look through my pattern book.”

Mista spends the afternoon looking through fabric and listening to his capo and the old woman chat about the neighbors, the government, the weather, the world cup… all the things that old women like to talk about. He commissions a hat and a sweater from the old woman, who scolds him and serves him bad tea and clucks over his fashion choices. 

Years afterwards, when both Bruno and Signora Pazzi are dead, Mista’s old clothes will still hang in his closet, a memorial to a kindness that endures through time.

[scars-and-scythes]

About you wanting jashin bible excerpts: I have no idea if this is any good at all but um, here you go. Here in The Land of Disavowed you writhe, and clamour, and beg for Their mercy. To hast Their care. Their arms be your shelter.. Their face be the sky.. Their body be the earth, food, and drink.. And to throw it down. Sinners! They have not forgotten you, The Land of Disavowed, for They send Their Chosen. You will be reunited.

Ahhhh thank you very much!  I might be able to use this, I’ve been taking a bit of a break but I’m definitely still working on the Thing in question!

[keyknows]

that feeling of goodness that washes over you right after you update, and the feeling of dread that follows you because you gotta write the next chapter

[catzula]

a/n: I just love Suna so much *screams*

honorable mentions: crackfic-like? The handsome-stranger-you-meet-at-the-airport au, swearing, 1.2k

It's a night flight.

Suna always preferred night flights, anyway.

Suna doesn't like flying. Sitting in a cramped seat for hours can't be anyone's favorite hobby, but he hates flying with a passion. For starters- it's unhygienic. The air has a strange smell to itself, as well, and it never fails to give him goosebumps and an urge to stop inhaling altogether.

He hates the tasteless coffee they serve, and the little packets of nuts remind him of the day he had discovered his nut allergy in a flight like this. The leather seats making him feel sticky with sweat, but the air conditioning brings him on the brink of hypothermia.

If there was an injection of sorts he could take that would put him in a coma during the flight, Suna wouldn't think twice before taking it, and based on all this, it's fair to say he can get a little cranky in airports.

As someone with not too much energy to spare, airports are exhausting for him. He already doesn't like running, but Kita is a little too punctual to let him rest or buy a coffee from Starbucks. The twins' fighting about something new every other minute never already driving him mad, but being surrounded by overly stressed people doesn't help, either.

"I will jump out of the window if I have to sit next to Atsumu on the flight." Suna had told the captain months before, the exact moment he had heard he would have to fly with the team.

That was the very reason the middle blockers seat was all the way in the back, located next to the window and a stranger. Suna can't be happier- all he wants is some peace and quiet, anyway, to wear his sleep mask and headphones and cut ties with reality as much as he can.

"You good there?" Suna barely hears Atsumu's irritating voice through his headphones, lips curling in annoyedly as he turns to the boy to send a glare- but to his surprise, the fake blond isn't looking at Suna.

"Oh, I- ah fuck- yeah!" He hears a voice, and it takes him a second to notice you who stands before the seats, arms reaching up for the overhead cabins and successfully blocking Suna from his seat. You must be the stranger he'll have to spend the next eight hours with, he supposes.

The tired gaze looks you up and down, you who is fighting a bag half your size- shouldn't that be under the plane?- and trying to push it into the overhead cabins. It's apparent you're struggling, arms shaking with the heaviness of the bag, biting your lip to muffle the sounds of your wrestling.

Despite your words, anyone who has eyes could tell you are, in fact, not fine.

In desperate need of a pair of longer arms, you peek at the tall brunette standing next to you; he's huge, broad shoulders and a height that makes you wonder if he hit his head on the way here. He looks familiar- if you weren't in as much of a pinch- you might've let out an audible gasp when you realized why he looked so familiar.

He's the stranger you'd seen earlier that day, standing in the line across of you, looking tired and black-painted nails scrolling down his phone. The all-black fit he has only adds to the mysterious aura surrounding him, arms slumped forward nonchalantly. You remember thinking if you'd ever see him or anyone as handsome ever again, making scenarios in your mind as to what kind of a man he is. You never thought you'd ever meet him again, though.

Suna notices the silent cry of help you have in your eyes, even when you avert your gaze away from him and mask your desperation- but he's no fool, he can tell when someone lookshim with an open need of help.

Well.

Suna admits he's no saint, either.

He can help you out, and you both can sit your seats, but he doesn't really care, nor has the energy to help you. All he wants to do is to sit down already -even though it would suffice if he just pushed the bag with his fingertips, but Atsumu beside you smiling at you does look a little more eager to help than he does, anyway. There you go, a prince charming ready to help.

Suna seems unfazed by the glare you send his way -any scenario you've created falling in disappointment, too, really? He wouldn't even offer to help?- as he bends in half to slip through the triangle-shaped gap you've created with your arms, slipping underneath them to get to his seat and-

A shriek outs your lips as you watch the bright blue bag slide from your fingertips, it's almost like slow motion, watching the object fall right on top of the boys' head.

"Ah! What the-" Suna groans in pain right after hearing a loud thump caused by the crash of the luggage and his skull. "What the fuck?"

Fox-like eyes are quick to find you, going between your panic-stricken and slightly amused face and the bag resting before your feet. "I-I'm so sorry!" You exclaim, but your strained voice sounds more like you're holding back a laugh instead of guilty.

Well. Karma is a bitch.

"Here, let me help." Atsumu offers maybe a little too late as he lifts your bag off the ground -Atsumu hopes he managed to hide how much he struggled, too. Honestly? What do you have in there?- and places it in the cupboard. "Thank you." You at least have the decency to look grateful at the blonde, giving him a pretty smile. "I'm so sorry," you repeat, turning your focus back to the brunette, who is rubbing his head in pain. "It just slipped out of my hand!"

To your dismay, Suna doesn't even spare you a glance as he mutters a "Whatever." Frowning and finally plopping himself down on his seat.

You narrow your eyes but stay silent as you do the same, too, settling in the seat, accidentally elbowing him one too many times as you try to get your damn jacket off.

You can feel his dissatisfied glare as the flight attendant brings the man sitting beside you a packet of ice, and you ignore the "tch!" sound he makes as he places the ice on the crown of his head.

"Bye, Suna!" The blonde you've seen earlier waves a goodbye at the stranger sitting next to you- Suna, you think, a pretty name for a man as cross as him.

"Are you okay?" You mutter under your breath, raising your gaze to take a better look at him. His face contorted in pain- he's the type of handsome you only get to meet in an airport. It's unfair how good-looking the man is, his shapely lip rolled between his teeth, deep-brown locks tousled and messy, and he has the prettiest eyes you've ever seen in your life.

Suna doesn't answer your question, but he makes it clear he's heard you with a scoff, eyes rolling in annoyance, averting his gaze to his phone. It makes you feel angry- being ignored as if you're a six-year-old kid.

"I'm not sorry, actually. You had it coming." You huff pettily, lips pursing when he keeps his silence.

"Okay, I'm a little sorry." You mutter after a few awkwardly silent seconds, suddenly feeling guilty. You did drop a heavy ass bag on his head, after all. "But not much."

You turn your eyes away from him when he sighs, annoyance evident in the sound. "And?" He hums, voice monotone and deep. "Which answer I give will make you stop talking to me?"

Suna knows that was unnecessary as hurt and embarrassment flash across your face- he notices that's the first time he even looked at you that night. Well, he can get unreasonable at airports, he agrees.

"That was rude." Suna comments after a few awkward seconds.

"It was." You agree. "But I was rude, as well."

"You kind of were."

To his answer, you can't hold back a lighthearted chuckle, the oddness of the situation dawning on the both of you. "This might be in the top 10 strangest ways I met someone." You chuckle, he does, too, but with a sarcastic quirk of his brow.

He has a pretty smile, plump lips curving just enough to show you a glimpse of his white teeth, enhancing the sharp features of his face. "Only top ten? That's a shame."

You don't speak as Suna closes the sleeping mask over his eyes -it has a cat print on it too, how cute- as a smile still lingers on his lips. "Good thing I have eight hours to at least make it into top five."

[fridayfirefly]

A New Start

Read A New Start on AO3

Masterlist

Written for Maribat March Day 15 - New Start

At the age of twenty-three, Dick Grayson was used to being called names. Playboy, asshole, womanizer - people liked to make assumptions about him. The press only ever saw him as a reflection of his Bruce's public persona, another rich airhead who thought of nothing except sex and alcohol.

Dick tried to rise above it all. He graduated from Gotham University School of Business with a 4.0 GPA. He earned his job at Wayne Enterprises instead of letting it simply be given to him. He never went to parties, never went to nightclubs, never got caught doing anything unsavory by the press. Despite every reason that made him entirely unsuitable gossip material, Dick Grayson was still splashed across the front page of every Gotham Gossip Magazine. They created speculation over every little aspect of Dick's life. When he took a week off of school due to the flu, he was actually partying his way through Europe. When he ran to the campus convenience store at 2 am to buy a new phone charger, he was actually buying a pregnancy test for his one-night stand. When he went to his Bruce's Spring Gala alone, it was actually because he was having a secret affair with one of the married models. Dick knew that nothing he did would change the way the press viewed him.

Dick hated the press. He hated being seen as a rich, air-headed playboy who earned none of his success. He hated how so few people saw past the headlines to get to know the real him. It seemed like no one could see the Dick Grayson who made dumb jokes and loved his slightly dysfunctional family and fell in love with his whole heart unguarded. No one could see the Dick Grayson who just wanted to be loved back.

------

Dick was running late. Any other day, he would be perfectly prompt, but that morning, everything went wrong. The subway got delayed. The uber driver tried to take a shortcut down the wrong way of a one-way street, adding another twenty minutes to Dick’s commute. The barista at Starbucks messed up Dick’s americano not once but twice (Dick still tipped her, but he was still resentful about it). When Dick finally got to the office thirty minutes late, he found out that he had a meeting in twenty minutes all the way across town.

Overall, the whole morning seemed to be fated for disaster. Dick caught a taxi outside of Wayne Enterprises, chugging the last of his americano before he got in. On the drive to the Gabriel Fashion building, Dick got himself up to speed on the topic of his upcoming meeting. Ever since the arrest of Gabriel Agreste two years prior on charges of domestic terrorism, Gabriel Fashion had lost more and more money until it was simply impossible for the company to remain afloat. However, despite the catastrophic failure of the parent company, one branch of Gabriel Fashion was still doing incredibly well. Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s line of sustainable, environmentally friendly fashion, named Miraculous Fashion, was widely regarded as the best thing to come out of Gabriel Fashion in the last fifteen years. Wayne Enterprises wanted to use Miraculous Fashion to get into the fashion business. Bruce was willing to offer Adrien Agreste, CEO of Agreste Fashion (though not for much longer, as the company was on the verge of declaring bankruptcy), just about any amount of money Agreste could ask for in order to acquire Miraculous Fashion. However, that meant getting the approval of Ms. Dupain-Cheng first, which was the reason that Dick was meeting with Ms. Dupain-Cheng that morning.

Dick's horrible luck wasn't through with him yet, though. As his taxi pulled up in front of Gabriel Fashion, the vehicle drove through a huge puddle, splashing street water all of a young woman walking past. Dick could hear her surprised shriek even from inside the taxi.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Dick muttered as he shot out of the taxi. "I'm so sorry. Are you okay?"

The woman blinked up at him, wiping the icy water off of her face. "I'm fine. It was an accident."

"It's not fine." Dick's already foul mood even worse after seeing the state of the woman. Her coat (originally cream-colored, as Dick could tell from the dry spots) was now covered in wet, gray stains.  "I can pay any dry cleaning expenses."

The woman shook her head. "It's not a big deal."

"I'll pay for your cab ride if you'd like to go home and get changed," Dick offered. He knew better than to throw money at a problem, but he wanted the guilt he felt about ruining the woman's morning to go away.

She shook her head, wet strands of hair sticking to her face. "No, it's fine. I have a change of clothes in my office, and I can get cleaned up in the bathroom."

"Okay. Sorry again Miss..."

"Dupain-Cheng. Marinette Dupain-Cheng."

Dick winced. Of all the disastrous coincidences... "I'm Dick Grayson, your 9:30 meeting."

Marinette stared at him for a moment, before starting to laugh. "What a terrible first encounter we had. Why don't I walk you up to my office? My secretary can show you around while I get changed."

"Sounds great, Ms. Dupain-Cheng."

"Call me Marinette."

"Only if you call me Dick."

Marinette tried and failed to hold back a giggle. "Right this way then, Dick."

------

Dick had the sneaking suspicion that despite the fact that Marinette had lived in Gotham for the past six months, she had yet to encounter any of Gotham's many gossip magazines. When she looked at Dick, there was no judgment in her eyes. Dick was used to the underhanded insults, the subtle ways that people tried to undermine him because they didn't think he was qualified for his job. Marinette never acted like that. She was interested in everything he said, offering both praise and criticism to his ideas as they negotiated the terms for a potential merger.

"I want Miraculous Fashion to continue past the end of Gabriel Fashion, but to be honest I was hoping to be picked up by a company more experienced in the fashion world. Miraculous Fashion has a lot of potential, and I don't want to let that go to waste with a company that - no offense - might not know how to operate a clothing company."

"I understand your concern, but Wayne Enterprises is dedicated to expanding into the fashion world. I swear to you that Wayne Enterprises will do whatever it takes to ensure that Miraculous Fashion prospers. I can't promise that we won't make any mistakes or screw-ups, but I can promise that Miraculous Fashion won't be abandoned when times get tough."

Marinette nodded thoughtfully. "I'll think about it, but there's a pretty good chance that I'll agree to this. I've gotten a few other offers from different fashion companies, but none quite as enthusiastic as Wayne Enterprises."

"I hope to see you again soon," said Dick as he left her office.

Even though it was riddled with disaster, Dick couldn't help but feel good about his morning. His meeting with Marinette felt special. It felt like a new start.

@maribatmarch-2k21

[kinnards]

been here all along [fic]

Or; there are traces of Buck all over the Diaz household. 1.8 k

Read on ao3

The coffee maker beeps in the kitchen, the sound carrying all the way into the bedroom the second after Eddie turns off his alarm. A cool breeze comes in through the window Eddie left open last night by mistake, and in the couple steps it takes to go from the bed to the door, Eddie has picked up at least six different clothing items, not even all his, from the floor and the chair in the corner that soon gets tossed into the laundry basket. He stops briefly by Christopher’s room to make sure his son is awake (he’s not, and a cranky five more minutes is heard from under the covers) before going into the bathroom to start his own morning routine.

The bright, red firetruck print that greets him has never failed to make him smile, not once ever since one particular Thursday, maybe two years ago now, when Christopher and Buck spent a couple of hours in the mall looking for a birthday present for one of Chris’s friends but bought a very much not needed set of shower curtains instead, along with matching firetruck soap dispenser and cup. They even have little firefighters painted in the tiny plastic windows, and Christopher might be almost twelve now, but the day he gets tired of his Buck’s gift is yet to come.

A month into the school year, the Diaz family’s mornings have looked mostly the same every day, and this fine Monday proves not to be the exception, as Eddie finds out a few minutes later. A certain blond man is still asleep on Eddie’s couch, and instead of doing his workout, Christopher is sprawled on top of him, snoring lightly. Buck’s legs are twisted in an awkward angle to fit in the couch and one of his hands brushes the fluffy carpet beneath the sofa (the one he picked in an attempt to convince Eddie that his house needed personality), the other holding onto Chris, whose face is completely smushed against the other’s shoulder. Bright blue crutches that Chris has started to grow out of lay in a disorganized pile next to them.

(If Eddie’s heart beats a little bit faster- if his hands itch to hold them too and join the sleepy pile, well. They don’t need to know.)

“Alright, sleepy heads, school starts in an hour! Get up!”

-

Eddie owns a perfectly functional coffee maker, a classic machine with only one button and no special features, that makes his coffee the same way every day, and has done so for almost five years without signs of obsolescence. He’s a simple man with simple tastes, but Eddie’s perfect, simple coffee maker, is currently collecting dust inside a box in the attic.

A steaming cup of coffee, however, is waiting for him on the counter when he steps into the kitchen, complete with milk foam, a shot of caramel, and two sugars: the product of the stupidly expensive machine Buck and Chris had plotted to get him, with all the smart features and Starbucks level settings that Eddie did not need. Using the machine is extremely complicated, too, so once Eddie found out how to input the settings for his drink of choice, he stopped allowing anyone to mess with it. Eddie drinks the sweet concoction religiously every morning, without a fault.

He sips on his sugar bomb slowly as Buck cooks breakfast, eggs, and sausages with toast, fruit salad, and a cup of warm milk for the only kid in the house. The sound of the sizzling pan and the knife hitting the cutting board fills the room along with the smell of homemade breakfast, something that screams of home and family, uninterrupted until Christopher shows up fresh from the shower and in clean clothes, with his restless morning energy and promptly sets to chatting their ears off. Buck keeps the conversation alive and gets the boy to help with mixing the fruit salad while he recounts the last episode of their favorite cartoon they had seen together the previous night. Buck makes surprised sounds at the right times, throwing a few "No way! Tell me more!" for good measure, even though Eddie’s pretty sure he remembers the episode perfectly as he asks the right questions to launch Christopher off in another direction at least three times.

Eddie finishes his coffee, leaves the cup in the sink, and turns to the cupboard to start setting the table.

Three days before school started, Christopher told Eddie that he’s big enough to use big people knives and after a long phone call with his son’s Occupational Therapist, and another with his own therapist, they had gone to the store to get him a cutlery set that could allow him more independence while still on the safer side, and Buck had found the perfect one: the knife has a blunt tip and slightly serrated edge, and a round plastic handle decorated with tiny green and blue dinosaurs.

“Daddy, don’t forget the dinosaurs, please,” Christopher asks politely, just like every day, because he refuses to eat with any other fork or knife. Luckily the set came with six of each, so everyone can use them during breakfast as Christopher prefers.

“Yeah, and don’t forget the big spoon for the fruit salad,” Buck chips in, pointedly looking at Eddie. Clearly, he still hasn’t let go of the last few times he has forgotten the big spoon for the fruit salad. In less than five minutes, they’re seated around the table eating, Christopher’s feet kicking excitedly against Eddie’s when they congratulate him for the A he got in his latest science assignment.

Both his son and best friend clear their plates first, smiles on their faces accompanied by crinkled eyes as they laugh. Eddie has to scold Chris on talking with his mouth full only once- a new record, and Buck only twice, tapping him on the hand with the spoon, reminding him to lead by example and not be a terrible influence on the kid. Buck mumbles a sheepish sorry every time, ducking his head in embarrassment, and Eddie just rolls his eyes and shoots him a fond look. He watches them, joins the laughter when Buck teases him, or when Christopher tells a story from school, warmth filling him up from the inside out.

Soon enough, the time’s up and Christopher goes to brush his teeth and get ready to leave while Eddie and Buck load the dishwasher and wipe the countertops, barely any words exchanged as they move around the kitchen. Eddie checks the calendar by the fridge, next to Christopher’s old artwork and the polaroids held up by fruit magnets. PT at 11 am, Frank’s at 3 pm, reads in the bold block letters of Buck’s handwriting, under Eddie’s own scribble of C’s swimming lessons at 3.30 pm. Eddie makes a face at the overlapping schedule, chews on the inside of his cheek. He’s too late to ask Carla to take Christopher for him, as he gave her the week off a few days ago so she could go to DC for a certification. The last few therapy sessions had been at noon, but PT was pushed up to eleven and so his entire schedule was unexpectedly messed up, and Eddie will have to run from the clinic to Christopher’s school and then take him to the pool, but he’s not cleared to drive yet so he has to account for cab ride expenses and a whole new timeframe now, too. God, he should have gotten this figured out yesterday.

Back in El Paso, when Eddie had worked three jobs, he had once forgotten to pick Christopher up at school because his shift ran longer than usual, his phone died and the teachers were unable to reach him at the construction site. His parents had been called instead, being the second emergency contacts, and they had stared him down later at night while they told him all the reasons he was a bad dad and Christopher should live with them. Don’t drag him down with you, Eddie.

A hand lands on his healthy shoulder, right next to the base of his neck, and Eddie looks away from the calendar to meet a pair of bright blue eyes next to him. Buck watches him for a second before opening his mouth, careful.

“Hey, Eds, I noticed today looks a bit tight and I was thinking I could ask Bobby to let me out for an hour so I can go pick Chris up and drive him to his lessons, or maybe ask Maddie if I’m on a call,” he says, and the knots in his throat slowly start to dissolve, as he stares up to his friend’s calm face. His shoulders slowly start to relax, the injured one pulses with pain. The warmth of Buck's fingers makes the little hairs on his nape stand up as he swipes his thumb twice over the patch of uncovered skin in a comforting gesture.

“Yeah, thanks, man,” Eddie chokes out.

Buck smiles, and it’s all it takes. The fog lifts.

“Sure, I’ll text you in case I can’t make it so you can let the school know Mads is going to get him,” Buck continues, but he’s not touching Eddie anymore. Eddie takes a small step back, fidgets with the dishrag he still had in his hands as Buck starts to make his way to the living room, picking up his jacket, “you get to pick him up after, and already I left you guys some leftover stew for tonight's dinner in the fridge," Eddie keeps his eyes on Buck while he talks, takes a few steps closer to his friend, but not close enough. "I have a sixteen-hour today, so you tell Christopher goodnight for me, alright?”

“Of course,” his voice is too tight, and it must show because Buck bites his lip and reaches out his hand again, but doesn’t touch. At that moment Christopher burst back into the living room and yells out as if Buck isn’t right there to hear him.

“I’m ready, Buck!”

With a last smile, Buck turns to the door, putting on his shoes quickly and pulling his bag out of the hallway closet. Eddie leans down to place a smooch on his son’s cheek, which makes him laugh, and throw his head back with a loud “Bye, dad!” in his ear.

“Alright buddy, let’s go, let’s go!” Buck exclaims and Christopher bolts out the door, followed by his Buck, and Eddie stays at the threshold until he can’t see the Jeep past the corner of the street.

It’s barely eight o’clock and he still has chores to get done before PT, but Eddie just drops facefirst into the heap of blankets on top of the couch, drowning in the smell of his family and he aches for the picture he saw earlier that morning, sleep falling slowly over him like another blanket. A short nap is calling his name from the dream world, and the last thing he sees before going under is his pillbox for the pain meds next to a bottle of water, a pink post-it note stuck on the tag, big bold letters were carefully written on it. I know you forget but please take these before leaving home! xx. Buck.

Eddie falls.

[theyoungturks]

Buffalo, New York Starbucks union organizer Victoria Conklin was fired from the company after she showed up late 20 minutes late to a morning shift after closing the shop a night before. Since she showed up late for the first time in her five-year stint with the company, it’s hard to think that this isn’t a clear act of retaliation. Cenk Uygur and Ana Kasparian discuss on The Young Turks. Watch LIVE weekdays 6-8 pm ET. http://youtube.com/theyoungturks/live Read more HERE: https://perfectunion.us/starbucks-fires-buffalo-union-leader/ "Less than a week after her store in Buffalo won its union election, Starbucks has fired lead union organizer Victoria Conklin in what she says is a clear case of retaliation. Conklin was fired on June 22nd for being late to work for the first time in her nearly five years at the company. The firing came days after the National Labor Relations Board sought an emergency injunction in federal court to force Starbucks to rehire seven other Buffalo union-leaders that it illegally fired over the past six months. “They fired me because they scheduled me to do a ‘clopening,’ which is when you close the store and open it the next morning, and I overslept and was late by 20 minutes,” Conklin told More Perfect Union. “But the store opened on time, we didn’t lose any customers or anything. The only thing I couldn’t serve when we opened was iced tea, because it takes about five minutes to seep.” Several weeks prior, Conklin was given a first write-up and final warning for the way she locked up the cash register before workers at her store went on strike on May 7th. Workers there went on strike over what they called unfair labor practices and unsafe conditions. A coworker had recently been badly burned on the job but forced to continue working with no time off to heal." *** The largest online progressive news show in the world. Hosted by Cenk Uygur and Ana Kasparian. LIVE weekdays 6-8 pm ET. Help support our mission and get perks. Membership protects TYT's independence from corporate ownership and allows us to provide free live shows that speak truth to power for people around the world. See Perks: ▶ https://www.youtube.com/TheYoungTurks/join SUBSCRIBE on YOUTUBE: ☞ http://www.youtube.com/subscription_center?add_user=theyoungturks FACEBOOK: ☞ http://www.facebook.com/TheYoungTurks TWITTER: ☞ http://www.twitter.com/TheYoungTurks INSTAGRAM: ☞ http://www.instagram.com/TheYoungTurks TWITCH: ☞ http://www.twitch.com/tyt 👕 Merch: http://shoptyt.com ❤ Donate: http://www.tyt.com/go 🔗 Website: https://www.tyt.com 📱App: http://www.tyt.com/app 📬 Newsletters: https://www.tyt.com/newsletters/ If you want to watch more videos from TYT, consider subscribing to other channels in our network: The Damage Report ▶ https://www.youtube.com/thedamagereport Indisputable with Dr. Rashad Richey ▶ https://www.youtube.com/indisputabletyt Watchlist with Jayar Jackson ▶ https://www.youtube.com/watchlisttyt TYT Sports ▶ https://www.youtube.com/tytsports The Conversation ▶ https://www.youtube.com/tytconversation Rebel HQ ▶ https://www.youtube.com/rebelhq TYT Investigates ▶ https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCwNJt9PYyN1uyw2XhNIQMMA #TYT #TheYoungTurks #BreakingNews 220630__TA05_Starbucks_Fires by The Young Turks

[king-finnigan]

5 times Geralt tried to propose to Jaskier and 1 time he didn’t

The last part of my 500 followers celebration! Once again, thank you guys so much! Masterlist!

I don’t know if modern AU deserves a content warning. But consider this a CW: Modern AU, I guess.

***

I.

He’s nervous. Really nervous. Wiping-sweaty-palms-on-your-shirt-nervous. Cannot-eat-anything-nervous. About-to-propose-to-your-boyfriend-of-four-years-nervous.

He bought the ring about a month ago, and spent the weeks after that planning this entire thing meticulously. They would go to the park where they had their first date, he would buy Jaskier ice cream, just like he did the first time, and he would propose at the bench next to the lake, where they had their first kiss. It would be perfect.

Of course, Geralt isn’t really one for big proposals and romantic gestures, but he knows Jaskier likes it, so he guesses he can bear doing it this once. And maybe every day after that, as long as it makes his love happy. But of course, first things first – the proposal.

The day goes swimmingly, and he can tell Jaskier’s having a good time. Of course, his love doesn’t really hide his emotions – not in the way Geralt tended to do, before he met Jaskier – so it’s not that hard to tell how happy Jaskier is.

And, when they finally reach the lake, he reaches into his pocket, ready to get down on one knee while Jaskier stares out over the water. This is it, this is the moment he’s been waiting for, the moment he’s been preparing for weeks, the moment he’ll show the entire world how much he loves Jaskier and that he’ll always love him.

His fingers dig into his pocket. And find empty air.

He frowns, trying again, digging deeper. Huh. He tries his other pocket, which is also empty, save for his phone. Shit. His back pockets are empty, too, and he tries them all again, just to be sure. Shit. Shitshitshitshitshitshit.

Jaskier looks at him weirdly. “You alright, love? Looking for something?”

He digs into his empty pockets one last time, before limply letting his hands fall by his side. “No, it’s alright. Just thought I’d lost my phone.”

Jaskier smiles, takes his hand softly, and starts pulling Geralt away from the lake. “Come on, let’s go home, it’s getting late.”

And suddenly this perfect day isn’t so perfect anymore.

He finds the ring in the pocket of his leather jacket, at home.

 II.

So the first time he tried to propose didn’t end well. That’s alright. It happens. Jaskier is still very unaware of Geralt’s plans, so he still has time to fix his mistake. So, he decides to take Jaskier on a shopping trip – because Jaskier loves shopping – and bring him to the Starbucks Jaskier used to work at as a barista, where they first met. Sure, it’s not exactly the most romantic spot, but he figures that maybe he can get their drinks for them, and slip the ring over the straw or something like that.

And the day goes well. Jaskier has a good time buying some knickknacks for their home and some decorative pillows because all respectable adults have decorative pillows, Geralt, and they’ll make a great Instagram post. When he insists on buying Geralt a forest-green sweater, Geralt rolls his eyes but lets Jaskier, anyways.

He’s nervous again, when they walk to the Starbucks, even though it’s the second time he’s trying to propose, and he’s sure Jaskier will say yes. Of course, his love notices his fidgeting, and asks him what’s wrong. Geralt just shakes his head, the knot in his throat preventing him from speaking.

And then they find out the Starbucks has been replaced with a McDonald’s. Fucking brilliant.

He’s not going to propose in a fastfood restaurant, thank you very much. The idea of it happening in a Starbucks was already pushing it, but no way is he gonna do it in a McDonald’s of all places.

So, they walk back to the car, Jaskier telling him it’s alright, and there’s no need to be disappointed, there are plenty of other Starbucks’ elsewhere, as the ring burns a hole in Geralt’s pocket.

 III.

He gives up on romantic gestures. Instead, he buys a bouquet of blue roses on his way home from work – Jaskier loves blue roses, he knows.

But when he opens the door to their apartment, he finds their home empty and dark. He frowns, turning on the light as he walks into the kitchen, seeing a sticky note on the fridge door.

Girls night with Yen. Be back before sunrise, it says, and Geralt lets out a sigh. He had forgotten about the fact that Jaskier and Yen would be going to a party today. And when those two go out together, bad things happen. Not bad bad things, of course, but he’s sure that Jaskier won’t be home before 7, will either still be drunk or already hungover, and will also probably bring back another traffic sign that Geralt will have to dispose of someway, somehow. Probably by taking it straight to the dump, like he did last time Jaskier came home with a stop sign. And the time before that. And the time before that.

Let’s hope he doesn’t come home with another stray cat, though, like he did two years ago. And a year ago. And about six months ago. And last week. Geralt’s tired of bringing animals to the shelter and having to leave them behind. Of course, it doesn’t help that he kept the first cat Jaskier brought home and named it Roach – now his love feels encouraged to take animals with him when he’s drunk.

He sighs, scratching the brown cat between her ears, before he lays the bouquet on the living room table and heads to bed.

Jaskier, in a bizarre move, brings home a goat the next morning, and – still very drunk – refuses to tell Geralt where the fuck he got it from.

 IV.

Alright, fine, so there’s no way he can plan it beforehand. So, he decides on a whim, to take the ring out of his pocket when they’re doing the dishes one day, after he’s pulled the plug out of the drain. Except his hands are soapy, and the ring slips out of his fingers, carried into the drain by the last bit of dish water.

He can’t help the loud ‘fuck!’ that falls from his mouth. Jaskier looks at him weirdly. “Everything alright, love? You look a bit pale.”

Geralt blinks, then nods, hurrying to get the tools from the storage closet in the hall. “Yeah, but I think the drain is clogged. Gonna have to open it up.”

Jaskier shrugs, walking into the living room, turning on the tv. “You need any help with that?” he asks, despite already scrolling through Netflix, as Roach settles into his lap.

Geralt shakes his head as he hurries back to the kitchen. “Nope, I can handle this!” he calls out, before slamming the door behind him.

He manages to get the ring from the pipes under the sink, luckily, but gets drenched in dirty water in the process.

 V.

Today is the day, he decides, as he makes his way up the stairs to their apartment. Today is the day he proposes. He’s gonna go inside, get down on one knee immediately, and ask Jaskier to marry him. There is no way it can go wrong this time. Today. Is. The. Day.

In his absentmindedness, he doesn’t notice the small puddle of rain water on one of the steps, and slips, hitting his head on the concrete. He curses, manoeuvring himself so he’s sitting down on the steps, clutching his painful forehead.

When he pulls his hand away, there’s blood sticking to his fingers. Well, fuck. He gets up again, making his way up to their apartment, letting himself in. As soon as he steps into the living room, Jaskier is pressing against him, looking at his forehead. “What the hell happened?”

“I slipped on the stairs.”

Jaskier tuts, shirt sleeve wiping away some of the blood that’s dripping down the side of Geralt’s face. “That’s gonna need stitches, love.”

Bloody brilliant.

They spent the rest of their evening in the ER, Jaskier grasping Geralt’s hand in both of his, Geralt pressing an old rag against the cut on his forehead.

 + I

A week later, he can’t say no when Jaskier begs him to take him to that nice restaurant a few blocks away. He decides not to propose, that evening,  because firstly, proposing in a fancy restaurant is incredibly cliché, and the last thing he wants is for it to be cliché. A weird proposal? Yes. An unromantic proposal? Sure. But a cliché proposal? Absolutely not.

Secondly, he decides not to propose because there are a million and one things that could go wrong. And, with the way his past attempts have been going, the lower the risk, the better. He’s fairly certain that, by now, if he were to try to propose tonight, the restaurant would likely catch on fire or something.

So, he just has a nice, lovely dinner with Jaskier. And it’s great, it’s a great evening, it’s a great restaurant, and he’s having great fun. Until dessert, when things go wrong.

Because of fucking course things go wrong.

Jaskier orders a moelleux for dessert, and Geralt notes in the back of his mind that the lady at the table next to them orders the same thing, but he pays no mind to it. After a while, the desserts arrive, almost simultaneously, and Jaskier crunches his nose in disgust when he sees a few mint leaves on his moelleux – he hates mint. Geralt laughs at his expression, though it falls when Jaskier takes away the mint leaves, revealing a ring underneath.

Firstly, he notices that the ring isn’t the one he bought for Jaskier, now several months ago. His is silver, with a light blue diamond that matches Jaskier’s eyes. The one on the moelleux is… hideous, in his opinion. It’s gold, with a large disc on it, full of little diamonds that sparkle obnoxiously in the low light of the restaurant, so bright it almost hurts his eyes.

Secondly, he notices that Jaskier’s expression turns from confused, to slightly disappointed, to a fake exhilarated. He can tell his love doesn’t like the ring, either. Which, under any other circumstances, would be a good thing – something to make fun of when they get back home. Except Jaskier understandably thinks this is the ring Geralt bought for him. After all, why else would it be on his dessert?

Thirdly, he notices the clatter of a fork falling on the ground at the table next to them. He looks to his side, and sees the guy staring at the moelleux in horror and confusion, while his girlfriend looks at it with jealousy. Ah. He understands the mix-up, now.

He sighs, plucking the ring – which weighs quite a lot, really – from the moelleux, handing it to the guy next to him. “I believe this is yours.”

The man takes it, mouth slightly agape, before shutting it with a snap, nodding frantically, before turning to his girlfriend. He and Jaskier watch as she takes the ring, practically screams her ‘yes, I will marry you’, and the guy slips the ring on her finger.

Jaskier smiles at him. “For a second there, I thought you were going to propose to me with that ring,” he whispers to Geralt.

Geralt scoffs, rolls his eyes. “Yeah, no, I would never. That was definitely not my ring.”

Jaskier cocks his head, frowns. “That was definitely not your ring?”

Well, shit. He fucked up. Again.

He presses his lips together, fishes the ring with the blue diamond from his pocket, and slides it across the table towards Jaskier.

The whole restaurant stares at them when Jaskier starts laughing like a maniac. Geralt waits until his love is done laughing, until Jaskier has his forehead on the table, hiccupping out small giggles. “What’s so funny?”

He pales when Jaskier takes a ring out of his own pocket, handing it to Geralt. It’s silver, with a yellow diamond in the middle that matches his eyes. Almost an exact copy of the ring he got for Jaskier. He barks out a laugh, as well, laying his forehead against his palm. “God, what a mess.”

“So,” Jaskier whispers to him. “Will you marry me?”

Geralt can’t help but smile. “Will you?”

Jaskier snorts, taking the ring from Geralt again, slipping it on his finger. “I assume that’s a yes. And yes, I will marry you too.”

Geralt, in turn, takes the ring he bought for Jaskier, slipping it on his love’s finger. “Good, cause I’m tired of trying to propose to you.”