#out of a swarm of bats emerges...a girl?

[rexscanonwife]

Tbh I don't know if I'm just tired or busy but I don't have a ton of specific thoughts to share about my ship with Luigi, I'm just rotating him in my mind atm

[e-dubbc11]

Goodnight Sweet Prince

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Billy Russo x F! Reader

Warnings: Death, description of injuries, vomiting, crying, grief

Word Count: 2.8K-ish

Summary: After a night out, on your way home, there’s a horrific accident

A/N: Ok I’m just going to say I’m sorry right off the bat, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Based off of a conversation between my lovely lovely friend @ittybxttykxttytxtty if you’d like to read the conversation, check it out HERE There is a surprise at the end so I will do another author’s note at the end. This was very hard to write at times, I had to walk away from it and come back to it a few times. I know, I’m rambling again. I’m just gonna say I’m sorry again and forgive me but I hope you like it anyway. Oh and the song I listened to on repeat to put me in the right mindset was Storm by Lifehouse. I’ll link it at the end. ♥️

As always, thank you for reading!  I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

There wasn’t anything that could be done for the outcome to be different. You were living a real life nightmare over and over again, always starting and ending in the same place, never finding out what happened after the accident or how you were supposed to figure out how to break the time loop you were stuck in.

The scorched heart that beat inside your chest burned every time you had to watch that truck hit the patch of black ice. His strong hands had pushed you out of the way and you fell across the faded white lines of the crosswalk, toward the sidewalk, just as it hit him.

Choking on the icy winter air, you tried to get to him as people started to gather around. All other sounds had been blocked out, you couldn’t hear the pedestrians that were trying to ask you if you were ok. You could read their lips but there was no sound.

With your palms pressed firmly in place, you could feel the vibrations of the traffic along the cold cracked city streets before crawling on all fours through a sea of legs looking for him. You could finally hear the faded sounds of approaching sirens and see the blinking red emergency lights against the somber night sky.

Your heart sank into your feet when you finally saw him. The attempt to control his pain and shock was futile. He didn’t have to say anything because it was all over his face. He was scared, calling out your name over and over again through shuttering, halting breaths.

Bright red blood slowly dripped from the scrapes on his knuckles and trailed out of his mouth. His legs twisted to impossible angles; you knew they were broken.

The dialogue was always the same.

As you hovered above him, you tried to stifle your sobs as you gently scraped his scalp with your nails.

“BILLY!” You cried out.

He struggled to get his words out. Between labored breaths he managed to ask, “A-are y-you o-ok? T-tell me you’re ok!”

Cupping his cheek, you replied, “I’m ok, baby…I’m ok. They’re coming, Billy! Just hold on! Why did you do that?!!”

Billy tried to smile.

“I-I couldn’t l-let any…thing h-happen to m-my s-sweet girl.” He choked out before his eyes closed.

“Billy! Billy, open your eyes for me please! Don’t you dare leave me, Billy Russo!” You yelled, gripping and shaking his shoulders.

Just as his eyes slowly started to open, you were surrounded by a swarm of paramedics who whisked you away toward the ambulance. And as you struggled to get away from them and back to Billy, a warm white light would appear and take you to a happy memory of him like the day you met, the night of your first date, and the first time he told you he loved you.

These memories felt like dreams. You observed them from the outside, like you were a spectator watching your own life as it played out in front of you.

“She left me…she didn’t want me…she never did.” He had said softly.

You remembered that night vividly. That quiet night with nothing but the sound of the fire crackling and hissing in between the words the two of you exchanged. A mother had left her own child on the doorstep of a fire station with nothing but the clothes on his back, not bothering to look back as she walked away from him. She made a choice and she didn’t deserve any forgiveness for it you thought to yourself because you couldn’t get any words out.

You struggled to swallow as tears silently fell from your eyes and in a way, you felt sorry for her because she would never know that her son grew up to be probably the strongest person you had ever met.

Billy had pulled himself out of that gutter she had left him in. He defended his country as a marine, became a successful CEO of a company he started without help from anyone, and he was so much more than anyone ever got to see.

You were the only person he ever showed that side of himself to.

Even the warmth from the fire couldn’t keep you from shivering as you listened to his story. The words kept pouring out like blood from an open wound and his words left you stunned and unable to move.

There wasn’t anything you could say to take that pain away, to make the nightmares disappear, help him forget about the Ray of Hope group home, the bodies left behind in Afghanistan, or the pain he suffered from feeling unwanted and unloved for so long. But you could listen and be there for him whenever he needed you to and he loved you for that.

Your story wasn’t like Billy’s but it was still a painful one. The memories you had from when you were really young made you happy but as you got older into your pre-teen and teenage years, everything unraveled.

Your parents divorced, you had to leave the house you grew up in, and your mother even gave away your dog. She treated you like she didn’t want you, not going as far as Billy’s mother did but you felt just as he did…unwanted and unloved.

“What did she do to you?” Billy had asked.

Gazing at you fondly, his eyes were the color of freshly turned soil after the rain. His long fingers softly brushed across your knuckles as the heat from the fire warmed one side of his handsome face.

You swallowed hard before answering him, it was nothing like what he had been through, and it just sounded so marginal but you answered him anyway.

“She ignored me.” You replied with your voice cracking.

You didn’t want to cry but tears fell from your eyes anyway as you tried to look away from him, realizing how stupid it all sounded but he wouldn’t let you look away or down. Billy wanted your eyes on him.

The look in his eyes was understanding; they silently told you he would never do that to you and he would always be there to listen to you because, in a way, you were alike. The two of you had managed to find one another and he never wanted to let that go…and neither did you.

The broken fragments of your lives that you carried around never quite fit back into place, no matter how hard you tried to put them back. Those scars are forever; they never completely go away but you didn’t need those pieces anymore. The healing you did together helped to patch the holes inside that you thought might never be filled with love again.

Patiently, you had waited for someone to love you as Billy did, to love you for who you were and he had only wanted the same. Not for his money or his good looks but for someone to love him, to be patient with him, but also to put him in his place when he was wrong. He wasn’t used to that but he did whatever it took because, with your help, he liked the man he was becoming.

He felt…content.

And in an instant, everything changed. The cycle would start all over again. Truck…screeching tires…hitting the pavement…sirens and lights…blood…broken bones…hearing your name…flashes of light…a fond memory.

You couldn’t keep watching him get hit by that truck over and over again. It felt like moments of your life were being taken from you each time it happened but still you loved watching the wonderful memories and moments between you and Billy again like it was the first time it was happening.

Every emotion you had experienced in those memories, you felt again watching them unfold in front of your eyes. The butterflies in your stomach fluttered again watching him kiss you for the first time. And goosebumps peppered your skin every time his lips touched that spot on your neck you loved so much…you felt them all.

But no matter how hard you tried to prevent him from being hit, you couldn’t do it. The universe wouldn’t let you. The cruelty of it all, watching the worst moment of your life play over and over again like a broken record. The flashes of light would always happen before learning Billy’s fate but you needed to break the loop.

How were you going to do that?

Maybe? No, no that can’t be the answer. You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t just let him die. “There has to be another way!” You thought.

The scent of tires and pavement mixed together burned into your sense of smell and left you sick with nausea as you tried to comfort him or ease his pain in any way you could. But it didn’t do any good. You could feel him slipping away as the obliterating pain you felt in your chest increased when the paramedics tore you away from his side.

The light came for you, ready to take you away to another memory but you didn’t let it. That’s when you realized that there was no other way to break the loop. Your body went numb, admitting to yourself that you had to let him go.

You had exhausted every option, tried everything, but the time loop kept going. The memories shown to you were all you were going to have left of him which was excruciating to think about.

You broke free from the paramedic’s strong grip and hurried back to him just as the other EMT’s were putting him on the stretcher.

You weren’t going to let him be alone.

No other words were exchanged inside the ambulance. With the oxygen mask over his face, his long fingers had laced with yours, he squeezed your hand periodically as the ambulance raced toward the hospital until his heart stopped beating and you heard the unmistakable sound of a flat line. His fingers went limp, his hand dropped away from yours as the EMT’s tried to revive him but he wasn’t coming back.

The tears came thick and fast as all noises dissipated like a heavy fog burning off over the ocean. A piece of you was gone, it had died along with him and that space in your heart that had been filled in with his love was empty once again.

The air inside suddenly became heavy and you struggled to breathe. As soon as the ambulance doors opened, you vomited onto the pavement in the parking lot and collapsed into the arms of one of the paramedics.

Before you blacked out, you heard him call out to you, “Miss! Can you hear me?!”

**********

Slowly, your eyes fluttered open, the bright lights above you stung as you waited for your vision to adjust to them. The voice you heard next to you was a familiar one.

“Hey sweetheart.” He said.

The voice was deep and gruff but soft. It could only be one person…Frank.

Frank Castle was Billy’s best friend. They served together and when Billy started Anvil, he had Frank come and work for him.

A hazy sense of sadness filled the room and after a moment of cold silence, you burst into tears, clawed at the sheets and tried to get out of bed.

“Y/n…no, no! What are ya doing, ya have to stay here. He’s gone, sweetheart.” Frank embraced you tightly and choked on his words. “He’s gone.”

Still trying to pull the cold sheets off your body, you cried, “He was all I had, Frank! He was all I…had!”

Frank squeezed you as hard as he could, held you in his arms as you cried while he tried not to and stroked your hair to try and soothe you but it didn’t do any good. You were heartbroken and numb as you sobbed against Frank’s shirt before passing out from shock once again.

The only person in the world who understood you, who you went to when you were having a bad day, or when you just needed someone to hug you in silence was stolen from you and he wasn’t coming back.

The only thing you felt was helplessness, lying in your hospital bed desperately trying to think of how you were going to move on with your life without him. You didn’t have anyone else, so what were you supposed to do now?

The weeks following Billy’s death all ran together in a blur. Frank and his wife, Maria, insisted you stay with them, but you couldn’t eat, or sleep, and when you did sleep, you were awakened by constant nightmares. Billy came to you in your dreams, they felt so real, his hands cupping your cheeks, lips colliding with yours, and his fingers tracing along the curves and hollows of your body.

Suddenly, his face was covered in cuts and blood and his life force grew fainter. You reached out but you couldn’t touch him. He slipped right through your fingers as he was just a vision, a figment of your imagination and then he disappeared.

Cold sweats and waves of nausea resulted in you vomiting up whatever food you had managed to eat. Maria became concerned when it would happen every time you tried to eat something so even though you told her you were fine, she brought you to the doctor anyway.

Sitting in the exam room, you said to her, “I told you, I’m fine. You don’t have to worry.”

“But I am worried.” She said. “You can’t keep anything down. That’s not good, y/n.”

It felt like they had kept you waiting in that room for days, so she just sat with you, talked, and comforted you. She knew how hard all of this had been on you.

Maria had become a really good friend to you after starting your relationship with Billy. She was so happy that he finally found someone that understood him, was patient with him, and had taught him how to be in a relationship. Some days were harder than others but she did her best to try and ease your pain.

“I know it hasn’t been that long y/n, but Frank and I, even the kids, would do anything to see you smile again.” Said Maria, as she laced her fingers with yours.

You tried to give her a slight smile but immediately your eyes welled up with tears and streaked down your cheeks.

“I see him everywhere I go, every time I close my eyes, he’s there but I can’t touch him. My hand just floats through him! It’s so hard without him, Maria!” You sobbed.

She held you tightly against her as she bit back her tears.

“I know it is…ssshh, ssshhh, I know it is. I know you miss him, we all do, but we are always here for you.” She said, choking on her words.

You remembered when your grandfather passed away. The nurses told you that hearing was the last sense to leave the body so he could still hear you even if you didn’t think he could. And you remembered that in the ambulance on your way to the hospital with Billy.

Before he squeezed your hand for the last time, you whispered in his ear how much you loved him and told him he was the best thing to ever happen to you.

Then he was gone and you knew he wasn’t coming back. He died knowing he was loved which is all he ever wanted but you didn’t know if you would ever be able to process your grief. Everything was difficult. Getting out of bed, eating, taking care of yourself. It was all so painful.

Maria was still holding onto you when the doctor knocked and walked through the door. She had a kind smile and was very aware of the ordeal you had been through so her tone of voice was very gentle.

“Hi there, y/n. I’d ask you how you’re doing but I know the answer to that but I think I know why you haven’t been able to keep any food down lately.” She said.

You and Maria looked at her, very interested in what she was about to say.

“Your bloodwork came back and, well…you’re pregnant y/n.” She said with a warm smile.

As those words echoed inside your head, you suddenly became lightheaded and you were thankful that Maria was holding onto you because you could feel yourself starting to lean off of the exam table.

“I’m…pregnant?” You questioned. “A-are y-you sure? How can that be? I was on birth control.”

She shrugged. “Well you know it’s not always 100% effective. We should schedule you for an ultrasound so we know how far along you are.”

Maria cracked a smile as her tears went from sad to happy.

“Oh my god…” She said, stunned.

“Oh my god…” You replied, in return.

Billy didn’t leave you all alone after all but how were you going to do it without him?

A/N #2: I’d love to continue this, explore her grief a little more, past times with Billy, maybe the birth of the baby? What do you think?

Tag List: @wheresthesunshinesblog @rafaelakelley @idaoftheburningmind @snowkestrel @fakehappy27 @music-indie-tv @fictional-hooman @kayhi808 @munsonownsmyass @gijos @celestialend @k-marzolf @nutmeg17 @rosaleenablack @vaguekayla @qu1etwolf @danzer8705 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf

Others that might enjoy: @itwasthereaminuteago @fluffyprettykitty @jvanilly @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend @ittybxttykxttytxtty @russosafehaven @mrsbillyrusso

If you’d like to be added (or removed from) my tag list(s) for the ever so handsome Billy Russo, just let me know and thank you again for reading! 💕💕💕 If I tagged you but you didn’t want to be, just let me know and I’ll never do it again.

[artiststarme]

The Up and Downs in the Life of Eddie Munson

The other one didn't seem angsty enough and I am in a mood. Grab your tissues, my friends!

~*~*~*~

Eddie knew he was never going to amount to anything, Munsons never did. For him especially though, it wasn’t written in the stars that his life would be for naught. The universe and fate were against him from the get-go. His life was on a downward slope since the day he was born. 

On that one freezing night in December, Mary Munson was rushed to the emergency room to deliver a premature baby boy. After four hours of excruciating labor, a C-section was performed and baby Edward Munson was born (he would later joke that he’d never been in a vagina a single moment of his life). He had to stay in the NICU for weeks until his preemie lungs were strong enough to handle the cold of the Indiananian winter. Less than a month old and Eddie was already the biggest burden to his parents. Old Richie Munson had to find extra work to pay off the extensive medical bills and he took it out on his wife. 

Poor Mary struggled on her own to take care of Eddie. He was a colicky baby so when he did go home from the hospital, he kept his mom up all day and night with wailing cries. She had no choice but to turn to drugs to escape the torments of being a young mother with a raucous baby and an absent husband. He was only seven years old when he found her body in the kitchen. She’d done heroin that was laced with fentanyl and her abused heart never stood a chance. 

When he was eleven, his dad got arrested for assault with a deadly weapon and armed burglary. He’d been trying to put food on the table for Eddie after losing his job and had gotten too sloppy through desperation. When the nasally and overworked social worker dragged him away from his dad in the visitation room, he thought he was going to be placed in foster care. Instead, his bald-headed and knobby-kneed self was plopped onto the trailer porch of his dad’s estranged brother. 

The man introduced himself as Uncle Wayne and he might have been the best thing to happen to Eddie. He didn’t hit him when he got frustrated like Eddie’s dad did. He didn’t turn to drugs and alcohol when he threw a tantrum like his mom had. Instead, Uncle Wayne was patient. He didn’t get mad at him when Eddie flinched away at physical touch or when he didn’t talk for the first six months of moving to Hawkins. No, Wayne earned his trust and looked out for him from the very first moment he laid eyes on him. He was a good guy and an even better uncle. 

That’s why it hurt so much to leave a dead girl in his trailer for him to find when he got off shift. Over Spring Break, his potential that was steadily declining rapidly accelerated. He went from being the weird, gay, metalhead teenage loser that no one liked to the serial killer of three fellow high school students that couldn’t graduate and led a cult in his free time. He ran away from the murder of a girl that had been nice to him and started getting hunted by the Hawkins townsfolk in a ridiculously uncoordinated witch hunt. He almost certainly wasn’t going to graduate this year, not from the inside of a prison cell because that’s where he was headed. 

And all of that doesn’t even mention the demon from another dimension that chose to paint Eddie as a scapegoat. ‘86 really wasn’t his year. 

Nothing has ever gone right for Eddie in his life and he knew it never would. So when he saw an opportunity to save his young friend and the rest of the world, he jumped on it. He couldn’t protect Henderson from inside the trailer with the bats prying themselves through the vents. He had to go out and fight them. Eddie knew as soon as he saw the swarm that that was how his life would end. If Steve Harrington, god among men, couldn’t hold his own against them, what chance did he have? Like an answer to his own prediction, the bats attacked. They tore through his chest and ripped his skin as if it were paper. The blood that gushed from his wounds bathed Eddie in warmth quickly followed by an empty numbness. When all of the bats fell from the sky, Eddie had the brief thought that just like all of his other suffering, his death would be for nothing too. 

The next moments passed in a haze, his body was going into shock. Dustin cried and begged him to get up. Harrington pulled him into his arms and sprinted for the gate. The girls yelled in the background of it all. And Eddie slipped away from the world that had only ever looked down on him.

He awoke in a drab white hospital room. His body felt heavy but he could move and he could feel his heart beating, his lungs breathing. Eddie was confused as all hell but he was alive. When he looked to his right, he saw Steve Harrington lounging in the uncomfortable hospital chair, head tilted unnaturally with drool dripping from one side of his mouth. For the first time in Eddie’s entire life, things started to look up.

@doubleb11 @nburkhardt @zerokrox-blog @newtstabber @i-less-than-three-you @carlyv @pyrohonk @straight4joekeery @trippypancakes

[yumejo]

I have this old lilimana thoughts I always wanted to share but couldn't. I was too shy;;

There's this old Filipino courting tradition called Harana, it's about a man who'd sing underneath a girl's window/balcony at night to court them. I thought it would be cute if Lilia does it to Mana with the rest of Diasomnia as his wingman🩷

this made me so happy!! 😭 thank you for thinking of me and lilimana... it fits them perfectly!! it was really, really sweet; i couldn't help but write myself something..!

lissome fingers sewed stitches into a new outfit, one that grim had implored for, as mana listened to the crepitating fire and the aforementioned beast's snores emitting behind her; the hour well past bedtime.

tap, tap, tap!

mana's concentration was ruptured as a noise resounded throughout the room, her blue eyes trailing to the window and espying a pitch-black bat bonking its precious little head against the pane.

"hm?" startled by the critter, mana dropped her needle and thread and padded over to the window; unlocking the latch and prying the glass apart. "lilia-san?!"

down below the newly repaired balcony was lilia—with the three children he considered family suspended behind his short frame. the sight alone has mana's heart fluttering, hearts emerging from the depths of her eyes.

"did we interrupt your sewing, my little thimble?" lilia inquired, albeit the simper curved on his lips was indubitably unapologetic. "do you think you could spare me a moment of your night? i have a gift for you♪"

mana's gaze shifted over to the diasomnia boys, and how they each retained an instrument in their possession. silver and sebek have various instruments mana remembered seeing in lilia's room before, and malleus has his violin—and that along is enough information for her to surmise what her beloved has planned.

tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, mana sheepishly leaned against the balcony's railing as she smiled down at them, "for you, i do."

and truthfully, she expected the music to be as chaotic as the light music club's performances—but she's pleasantly surprised as malleus' bow begins to slide along the strings, a dulcet sound pulsing through the night air. silver and sebek's instruments gradually begin to coalesce into the soothing melody, highlighting the grace of malleus' playing.

the three of them continue to play, and mana felt lilia's eyes fixated on her; as if observing her reaction, his entity radiating a rhapsody of joy and excitement.

lilia was content knowing she's enjoying herself; that they had enraptured her and monopolized her attention completely.

mana found her breath being thieved from her lungs the moment lilia's guitar pick thrummed with his own strings, and the mellifluous sound of his singing voice echoed afterwards.

"even if your hand, your voice, and your afterimage fade; i am here—please let this message reach you~♪~♪"

finding her legs growing weak, quivering from the white-hot ache imbuing itself in the crevice of her chest, mana rested her weight forward onto the railings further. 'how beautiful...' she thought, overwhelmingly emotional, 'lilia-san, and everyone...'

"for it won't be long before i find you, keep the way home in your eyes; someday everything will return to the way it once was~♪~♪"

those lyrics evoked a tender yearning from within mana, her dewy-eyed expression shining as she kept her own gaze riveted onto how lilia's body swayed.

as the song's culmination came and went, the euphonious tune simmering down into steady, gradual beats, mana clapped and cheered. "that was wonderful-!" she effusively praised, giggling as the boys behind lilia all flushed.

even if she didn't understand the reasonings behind the sudden serenade, mana loved every second of it.

"kufufu, did you enjoy our performance?" lilia called up to her in congruence with a swarm of bats accumulating around him—and in an instant, he was fluttering right beside her; his body nestling down atop the railing as a hand reached out to cup her cheek. "i wanted to surprise you. i learned of this tradition on my many travels; isn't it perfect for showing my love to you?"

an airy laugh overflowed from mana's lips as she nodded her head, agreeing, "it is. why not let me sew you a new outfit next time you wish to show me a song?"

"does that mean you'll accept my affections?" lilia teased her adoringly, the devoted gleam sparkling in his eyes enchanting.

overlaying her hand overtop of his, mana avowed, "always, lilia-san."

[colemacgrathtkz]

Trouble at the market

Breaking out of Hooty's owl pellet was bad enough. She had to pick leaves out of her hair. Not to mention, bits and bones of whatever the tube demon last ate. Now came the crowds of fans of "Luz, the human ''.

Witches of the (unofficial) "bad girls coven" raced upon seeing one of their idols. Witches, young and old, swarmed around her. While others were snatching Penstagram selfies, uneasy fans wanted to know what caused the Isles to tremble just a short while ago. This might be a taste of fame. But it was still the pressure of everyone counting on a high schooler. Not exactly something Luz counted on when she helped save her friends. The witch apprentice turned hero, Luzura. Her identity as "the dummy in the principal's office" was crushing. But this was a new kind of pressure.

She tried to calm down the flock of worried admirers. But they kept asking about the "rainbow geyser" that rained down on the titan. From its head to its toes, liquid metal-like substances crashed down onto the ground.

Unable to answer all their questions, Luz nervously agreed to let everyone know when she learns more. One thing she learned to always keep on her, a bottle of fog brew. After her first day of Hexside, she wanted to ace her first potion. Now, the results spoke for themselves. Using the smokescreen and an invisibility glyph, she snuck away.

Young witch: "So cool. Like that other human hero. What was it? Man-bat?"

Luz(under her breath): "It's actually Bat..."

The slight exhale caused her glyph to wear off. Before she could use another one, she spotted a Glandus student sprinting in her direction.

Luz: "No,no,no, wait, I don't..."

They sped past her, completely ignoring the confused human. And then another, and another, and another. Panic could be heard getting closer, as the sounds of battle grew bigger as well. The ground shook as she saw witches retreating. The former emperor's coven guards fell under the banner of the "C.A.T.S". Those accepted were under the leadership of the original rebels against Belos. Raine Whispers, Daruis, Eberwolf, Lilith and Eda Clawthrone. Only those personally approved by one of them were made into peacekeepers.

C.A.T. guards fired spell after spell as they fell back. Dust and debris approached ominously toward Noceda's direction. She wasted no time running towards them, in hopes of being able to help.

From the dust cloud, two C.A.T. guards were launched through the air. Noceda used a glyph to catch them in greenery and created an ice wall with another. She readied herself and thundering footsteps approached. The sound of metal bending greeted her before the sight of a 30 foot blue humanoid newt emerged. In one arm, he held what looked like a sci-fi energy sword. A large abomination attempted to focus its attacks on his head. The witches responsible for the goo champion became over confident. One of them spotted Luz and became careless.

C.A.T. guard: "It's the human!"

At that moment, the large newt swung its tail. A chunk of rubble was sent crashing into the origin of that call. Their partner ran to their aid. With eyes irritated from the blows, he could just make out a familiar sight. A fuzzy silhouette of hair with leaves and sticks. The huge armored creature closed in on his human target.

King Andrias: "A human, huh?"

Luz: "Um, hi. You're a big boy, aren't ya?"

King Andrias: "What have you done with the box?"

Luz: "The box? I don't know what you're talking about. What box?"

King Andrias: "The power of Amphibia's greatest treasure. My battle on Earth just moments ago. Now, I'm here amongst these creatures. Of course, you sent me here. Always a little thief misusing its power."

Luz: "Listen, um, sir? I don't know anything about a box, but if you just..."

Wait, he knows about earth. He said, he was just there? What's going on in the human world? Did what happen back at the pool site reach there, too?

King Andrias: "You want to play games? Catch!"

Using his sword to bring down a wall, he swung his tail like a bat. Debris went flying towards Noceda's direction. She quickly slammed an ice glyph on the ground. But the frozen wall it created only held against the stone projectiles. Her attacker charged at her almost immediately. Swinging his sword through, he completely closed the distance between them. Despite towering over her, she could see the reds of his eyes. Even with his vision impaired, he was still a threat.

King Andrias: "You've got ice powers now?"

He caught her in his massive hand in an attempt to crush her. But she activated a fire glyph she planted on him, just under his fist. Right when he loosened his grip, she escaped and used a plant glyph to swing from his arm, up to his face. He spotted her aim and headbutted her before she could use another attack. She came down on the ground, hard.

He quickly tried to stomp on her. But she rolled out of the way.

King Andrais: "You think sending me away was going to save Earth?"

He swung his sword without giving her any reprieve. One of the blows cracked the street, causing Luz to lose her footing.

King Andrais: "I'm going to enjoy crushing everyone you care about when I'm done here."

At that moment, several spikes of ice went right for her opponent,

Luz(angrily): "What did you just say?!"

She coated a rod, lying on the ground, in ice. It almost looked like a shimmering sword.

King Andrias: "Touche."

She used a combo of fire and ice to create a fog. Using the cracks in the street, she used a plant glyph to attack from below. He evaded, but took his already poor eyesight off her. She used the distraction to slip away, using an invisibility glyph. Sneaking up on him, she surprised him with a large flash of light. With what felt like looking directly at the sun, he covered his eyes. His reaction from the pain made the opening Luz wanted. Using an ice platform, she launched herself up to his collar. With her makeshift weapon, she lodged it into his armor. Using vines, she knocked the sword out of his hand. She had to use one arm to hold on. But she appeared to immobilize one of his arms with a plant glyph. They managed to drag his arm closer to the ground. Unfortunately, she forgot about his tail. He knocked her off his back and snatched her out of the air with his spare arm.

King Andrias: "So many new powers. You’ve outdone yourself, chosen hero. I underestimated you. But now you die.”

Just as he raised his fist to smash her into the ground, sunlight allowed him to get a better look at his captive.

Bringing her closer to his face, he studied her features.

King Andrias: “You’re not Anne Boonchuy.”

Not wasting this opportunity, she remotely activated one of her last two glyphs. Using a vine to reach the rod under his collar, she set off a series of ice glyphs coated around vegetation that shackled his arm.

King Andrais: “What’s happening?”

He flung her in the direction of the floor. Fortunately, her last glyph allowing her to stop in mid air and land safely on the street.

The barrage of glyphs managed to reach underneath his armor. Finally, immobilizing him completely and ending the battle.

Author's note:

I was worried about how much I could fit here.

[grammaraygirls]

G(r)amma Ray Girls - Story Beats and Treatment

STORY BEATS:

A news anchor reports on a breaking story

An old woman watches the news from her coach, silhouetted by the light of the TV

The silhouette of a different figure watches multiple screens

They furiously type away at their computer

A graphic of an old man’s ID appears on the screen to their left

‘IDENTITY: STOLEN’ flashes underneath it

An explosion comes from behind

The figure turns in surprise

Three women stand at the hole in the wall created by the explosion

Frightened the figure turns back to their computer

They hit a large button next to their keyboard

Multiple robots emerge from the shadows of the room they stand in

The figure flees the room

The first wave of robots surge forward

The girls break their original formation to charge

A montage of fighting begins

A hammer smashes the body of a robot

Sword slashes appear in another robot

It breaks into pieces

Bladed whips tie around a flying robot before it explodes

A pile of robot parts sit before the compute

The girls run to the next room

They reach the hallway

Beneath them the floor begins to shake

It opens into a pit of water that buzzes with electricity

Thousands of electric eels swarm the water below

A few have laser pointers attached to them, that make marks on the walls surrounding the hall

The girls stand at the door in hesitation

The middle girl perks up – an idea coming to her

She uses her whip cuff links as a grappling hook, lodging into the ceiling

She then swings the other two girls across the pit

They all make it safely to the other side

The last girl brought over’s costume catches one of the lasers

They quickly stomp it out

The girls run to the next room

Its empty with the exception of a small little kid holding a bat

They pause, confused

While looking to each other for confirmation of what to do, a thunk sounds out

One girl squats down holding her knee

The kid hit her with his bat

The girls, exasperated grab the bat from the kid

They use his shirt to hang him from a hook in the room, giving him disappointed looks

The girls move to the next room

The original figure stands atop a large robot

They move it forward revealing the weapons on its body

The girls jump into action

A hit here, a parry there, the scene explodes into smoke

The smoke clears

The girls stand over a beaten villain, resigning to their fate.

The girls leave the villain tied to a telephone poll

As they walk out of sight a large flash appears

Where the three young girls once were, they’re replaced by three old women

They pass a building with a graffitied mural that shows their magical girl personas

STORY TREATMENT:

A dolled-up news anchor sits behind her desk holding papers with the days stories on them.  A ‘breaking news’ banner appears across the bottom of the screen, and the anchor begins to report on an epidemic of stolen identities occurring in the city of Oldsville.  An old CCTV blasts the story into a living room where an old woman sits on her couch, the light of the TV silhouettes her as she listens to the report.  Another silhouette figure sits in front of several screens, all flashing different things, as they furiously type away at their keyboard.  To the left of the figure, the drivers license of an old man appears on the screen.  More scrambled typing occurs, then a graphic flashes below the ID, “IDENTITY: STOLEN.” The figure continues to work, the computer screens are the only source of light in the dark room they sit in.  From behind them, an explosion leaves a large hole in the wall, the figure turns to face it.  From the hole, smoke clears to reveal three girls holding various weapons, they look determined and powerful. The figure scrambles back towards their computer and presses a large red button next to their keyboard, before quickly fleeing the room.  From the shadows, a menagerie of robots appears ready for battle.

The girls break formation to begin their fight.  The first wave of robots surge forward, and the girls begin to fight, swinging hammers and swords and whips.  They manage to create a hefty pile of robot parts when they turn to leave the room.  In the hallway, they stop when the ground begins to shake.   The floor beneath them starts to move, revealing a pit of water that buzzes with electricity.  Electric eels writhe below, a few have lasers strapped to their heads, the beams occasionally coming out of the water to zap at the surrounding walls.  The girls hesitate, wondering what to do, when the middle girl perks up, she has an idea.  She uses her whip cuffs as a grappling hook, launching it into the ceiling, creating a vine like swing.  She swings over with the first girl, swings back, and does the same with the second.  They paused only for a moment to stomp out a small fire started on the costume tail of the second girl, where the eel laser had hit it.  Entering the next room, the girls slow to a stop when faced with their third foe.  A small boy holding a bat stands at the center of the room.  Confused, they exchange glances with each other when a thunk is heard.  The girl with the hammer crouches down with pain, holding her knee.   She glares over at the boy who had smacked the back of her knee with his bat.  Exasperated, they grab the bat from the boy, and hang him by his shirt on a hook on the wall.  They give him matching disappointed looks as he pouts from where hangs.  They move on to the final room.

At the top of a large robot, stands the original figure.  They have hooked themselves up to the robot, controlling it like a jaeger pilot.  It steps forward, arm coming out to reveal the weapons placed on its body.  The girls waste no time, jumping into action, moving with each other in a practiced formation, hitting at the robot.  They hit, parry, and shoot at it, a flurry of action that explodes into dust and smoke.  When it clears, the villain lies defeated, battered, and bruised on the floor, the girls towering over them in victory.  They tie the villain up on a telephone poll, leaving them with the bat boy as guard, before authorities come.  The girls walk away, a successful mission.  When they crest a hill disappearing from sight, a large flash appears in the sky.   Where the three girls once were, now walked three old ladies, chatting casually with each other as they moved through the city.  They pass by a building with a mural painted on it.  It’s of the Gamma Ray Girls, and as the old ladies walk by they match up with their individual alter egos.

[gale-gentlepenguin]

GUYS! IT LEAKED!

THE FIRST TWO EPISODES OF ML GOT LEAKED! AND THEY ARE IN ENGLISH!

I don't know how long they will be active but I got the links to them while they are still up.

Truth

Lie

After you guys watch let me know your thoughts. And check out my review and live reaction of the episodes underneath the read more. Spoilers below

(This is an April fools joke)

Gale Reviews: Miraculous Ladybug, Season 4, Episode 1: TRUTH

(With Live reaction)

-So Marinette is trying to find a place to store the ladybug miracle box. Its funny for a bit.

-Tikki suggests hiding it under her bed. Which Marinette does for the time being. But find its way to hard to access normally.

-"Ill figure something out" Marinette explains.

-The Kwami are swarming around the room, exploring. Barkk found the TV.

-Marinette's phone rings, And its Luka. With a heart at the end of the contact. (Resisting urge to gag)

-Luka calls to ask if she remembers that they have a date planned for today. Going to see Jagged's new movie.

-The kwami are f***ing creeping on the conversation. Marinette says she remembers and that she won't miss this one. Like she did the other nine times. I cracked up at that part.

-Luka tells her that he made sure she wouldn't forget. Since he showed up to her place.

-Marinette quickly tells Luka that she has to go. Then yells at the kwami to get in the box.

-Sass asks if the boy she was talking to was Luka.

-"Yes. Now in the box."

-Sass ships Lukanette.

-Hilariously Barkk does not. I love Barkk.

-So Luka is in Marinette's house with her parents as marinette rushed downstairs.

-Its a really awkward scene since Marinette never told her parents she was dating Luka.

-Protective Tom activated.

-Luka assures them that they haven't been on their first official date yet.

-That eases the parents.

-Marinette tells her mom and dad a bit about Luka before her phone goes off, letting her know the movie is gonna start soon.

-The two leave in a hurry.

-"I prefer the one she confessed to last time."

-"TOM!"

-Tom ships Marichat

_____________________________________________________________

-Adrien tries calling Kagami to see if she wants to see the Jagged stone movie, but she says she is busy with archery.

-So Adrien tries calling Nino, who is with Alya.

-So Adrien thinks about it and remembers Marinette loves Jagged Stone. She would probably love to see that movie.

-"I will call Mari... wait."

-Adrien has an imaginary scenario.

-He asks Marinette to the movies, Luka is mad and Kagami is mad.

-"Maybe that wouldn't be a good idea..." Adrien said kind of bummed.

-Plagg asks why it isn't a good idea. Isn't he friends with marinette?

-Adrien explaining why asking another guy's girlfriend to the movies is wrong.

-"You sound more bummed that you can't go with marinette then your own girlfriend." Plagg is SPITTING TRUTH!

-Adrien dismisses that notion, and decides he will try a few other people.

___________________________________________________________

-Wow Nathalie looks awful. She tries to get out of bed with a cane and falls down.

-Gabriel there to help her up. I wish the show would stop shoving the adultery subplot down our throats.

-Gabriel explains that he finally figured out how to use both miraculous at the same time. Which means Nathalie can focus on resting.

-Nathalie insists she can help. But Gabriel tells her that she has done more than needed. She deserves a break. He can't thank her enough for everything.

-Nathalie looks like she wants to confess.

-"You are truly an irreplaceable friend and confidant."

-MOTHERFUCKING GABRIEL 'just a friend' AGRESTE! ITS GENETIC

-Nathalie says of course, and says she is tired.

-I feel bad for Nathalie.

_____________________________________________________________

-Okay so Lukanette date.

-Marinette springs the gift on him.

-Its a necklace made with the guitar pick he first gave her in Captain Hardrock I think.

-Luka loves it.

-Okay the scene that was leaked in the trailer. Big moment, WILL THEY KISS?

-and its really close and... AKUMA ALERT! Right off the bat. So close.

-Marinette gives an excuse about her dad calling. She will be right back before the movie starts.

-Luka says its okay. And says when she gets back to grab some popcorn

-Marinette gives him a peck on the cheek and rushes off.

-Well you get a cheek kiss. But DAMN they really made me think they would actually do it. I got nervous.

-Ladybug arrives on the scene and its... mr.Pigeon again.

-Ladybug is really annoyed, until she sees the Giant PIGEON SENTIMONSTER!

- Chat noir arrives and comments that this might be more difficult then they thought.

-Ladybug says that they will handle it in a flash.

__________________________________________________________

-Luka watched the whole movie alone. The Usher told him to leave the seat.

-Just OUCH, I legit feel bad for Luka. My dude. I am so sorry

-Luka looking for Marinette at the theater but she is gone.

-DOUBLE OUCH

-He tries calling... and straight to voice mail. and 3 strikes!

-Luka starts walking out very disgruntled

-He gets to that bridge in the promo (its sunset) and Marinette arrives running to him. Telling him to wait.

-He turns around.

-She starts apologizing. Some excuse that its a bakery emergency

-"Your not being honest."

-Marinette tries to recover, but Luka says he wants to know what she has been hiding.

-"I am not hiding anything."

-"Marinette, please stop lying to me. Just tell me whats going on. I will understand. Just tell me."

-Marinette says softly she can't.

-"What?"

-"I said I can't tell you. Im sorry"

-She runs off.

-Luka looks hurt, and then angry. Looking at the necklace.

-"Why can't you trust me... What is so big you can't trust me?" He looks so angry. And frankly, I don't blame him.

-And cue Shadow moth, who is now revealing his transformation as shadowmoth. And I still think its ugly.

-Hawkmoth comments the spiel about being a disgruntled boyfriend who is felt put out by his girlfriend.

-Sends the akuma and Amok.

-Luka gets akumatized.

-Okay, now THIS is a good akumatization. I am not spoiling it but Shadowmoth and Luka's dialogue is TOPS here.

-He runs into Alya and the girls and tests out his powers on them. Alya thinks Nino looks better without glasses. Rose admits she only loves some of her stuffed animals and the guilt is killing her. Juleka admits that Luka dating one of her friends is creepy. THANK YOU JULEKA FOR SAYING IT.

_____________________________________________________________

-Adrien is bummed that he didn't get to see the movie. and as he was walking Bumps into marinette. Who ran into him

-Okay so this scene, TOP TEIR ADRINETTE.

-Adrien comforting Marinette, saying that Luka would understand.

-"Is it wrong to keep secrets from him?"

-"Sometimes we keep secrets because it will keep them safe. There is a right time to tell them, but it isn't always when we want to tell them."

-Marinette thanks Adrien for the advice and... OH KWAMI! TRUTH IS RIGHT THERE WATCHING!

-He knocked Adrien into the water.

-Truth and the Sentimonster are tailing Marinette.

-Adrien got a chance to transform.

-Marinette swerved to get to her house. Getting the giant eye sentimonster to bump into something.

-Marinette gets to her room, where truth tries asking her what she is hiding!

-AND CHAT NOIR JUMPS IN WITH A HIGH KICK.

-They fight and Marinette tries to make sure the miracle box is hidden.

-Chat noir asking if Truth had a bad date or something. VERY POOR CHOICE OF WORDS!

-Chat noir knocks Truth out of the bedroom. He tells Marinette to go hide. He and Ladybug will get her boyfriend back to normal.

-Marinette thanks chat noir and runs out of view.

-Shadowmoth tells Truth to get Chat noir's secret, it will help him deal with the pest so he can achieve his goal. Truth agrees.

-Ladybug arrives and wam bam.

-Ladybug tells chat noir NOT to get caught in the gaze of that

-If you are still reading this at this point I gotta say I admire your dedication, but this is an elaborate prank.

April fools!

[justasimptm]

The Bride C7

The walk to the village he doesn’t let a moment go quiet, poking and prodding, making jokes or inappropriate comments. His favorite is to tug on the laces of my corset, never enough to undo any of the knots, but just enough to make me jump and glare at him. Everytime he does it he lets out a hearty laugh at the look on my face, puts his hands up in surrender and swears he’s going to stop, only to do it again minutes later. I try to keep myself out of his jeering, far enough ahead he can’t reach me with his hands and far enough he doesn’t see the flush that coats my cheeks as he whistles at me. As annoying as it is, he does keep it at least mostly respectful which does soothe my fraying nerves some.

“Say, sweetheart, is that a new corset? I don’t think I’ve seen you in it yet, and I definitely would remember,” He calls out, voice dipping down an octave. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from saying something I shouldn’t, but this time he takes my silence as an invitation to continue. “If you ever need help getting into it again-or getting out of it, you know where to find me.” That pulls a sharp, quiet breath from my lungs, surprise causing me to whirl on him, jaw dropped and eyes wide. He couldn’t have behaved for a few minutes longer, we were on the outskirts of the village, so close to the end of our journey. The smirk laced across his lips tells me he is expecting me to ignore him again, to turn back and finish this.

I can’t tell which makes me boil more, that assumption, or the fact he had the gall to say something like that to me, knowing who I am and who my mother is. He steps closer, bordering on too close but far enough not to be rude, tips his head down slightly and stares at me over the rim of his glasses, waiting for me to do something. As smoothly as I can I close the gap, completely entering his space, having no more than a few inches between us. He freezes slightly as I reach up, calmly pinching the arms of his glasses and pulling them down off his face, leaving us eye to eye. I smile sweetly, tucking the arms in and then into the collar of his shirt, patting his chest with two gentle bats. I pretend I don’t notice the firm muscle under my palm, or the way his breathing hitches slightly as he tries to hold still.

“And what, exactly, makes you think I would ask you for that kind of help, hm?” I whisper, cocking my head to the side, “I’m sure that if that’s something I wanted, I could find someone more, how can I put this, experienced.” His eyes narrow, “Maybe you can find a toy in the gaggle of sad little ducklings we’re taking today. I bet if you ask real nice Mother Miranda might let you keep one.” The teasing tone in my voice is more than obvious, and I know he hears it, but he seems finally stunned into silence. Taking this as a victory I back up, grinning at him before making towards town to finally put an end to our less supervised trip. I make it roughly two steps before his hand latches onto my wrist, jerking me slightly off balance. Enough to wobble but not enough to crash down or into him. My eyes snap to his in a fraction of a heartbeat and I have no words to describe the look I find embedded in his. It’s the oddest mix between ego, surprise, and fire, and it sends tendrils of fluttering through my stomach.

“You should be careful how you use those pretty words of yours. Don’t need you getting in any trouble you can’t handle.” He states gruffly, briefly flickering his eyes down and back up before dropping my arm like I burned him. “Come on. We should get this done before your mother worries. We both know that we don’t want that.”

The rest of our walk towards the square is finally quiet. Heisenberg stopped pulling on my strings, physically and metaphorically, and part of me is wishing the silence wasn’t so harsh. It feels like it’s drowning in rejection, stinging and unforgiving. The excited chittering of our soon to be unwilling experiments helps drown it out, they keep to themselves mostly, but I can feel the way they side eye us. We don’t typically interact with them in a group like this, Mother Miranda tells them that they’ll only see us if she has something special for them. They think this is going to be an honor, and how blissful it is to be unaware of the horrors waiting for them at that church, in Moreau’s laboratory. To them Miranda is a God, my mother and the others their protectors who they only hear whispers of when we need more of them, they are so so naive of the monsters we really are.

God I envy that. The flaming jealousy streaks through my chest before I can stop it and I know my face has soured. Unable to tone it down very much I elect to keep my face forwards, walking at the beginning of the pack, a few paces in front of everyone. Heisenberg’s taken up the back, I know it’s to keep his Lycans at bay, but part of me thinks it’s because he wanted to be separated. I catch a breeze of one of the girls speaking. It’s too quiet to make out fully but she sounds so happy. What a fool.

Mother Miranda greets them all joyously, opening her arms and thanking them all for joining her. They nearly collapse to their knees at the sight of her, a flood of thanks and awe soon floods the still air. She takes a few moments with them all, taking down their names. They think it’s so she can address them, but really it’s for their labels so she knows who was the most successful. As she reaches the end of the line she tosses a nod at the two of us, as we hover by the door unsure of if she is expecting us to stay or not. She asks them all to thank us for guiding their passage, for keeping them safe from ‘the devils’.

Our murmur of praise is much shorter than hers was, very clear they’re only doing it to please her. None of them spare us another glance as she dismisses us. The air is smothering as we step back outside, just the two of us again. I hesitate for a split second and he sighs, choosing to break the silence.

“Let’s go sweetheart. Gotta walk you back up to Castle Doom.” He mutters, motioning with his hand for me to start walking. The way he says it is defeated, like he has no interest in doing it but he has no choice. Stubbornness flares up inside my chest and I have to fight a snarl as I roll my eyes.

“You don’t ‘gotta’ do anything, Heisenberg, Just go back to your fucking factory doing whatever the hell it is you do up there. I am more than capable of walking myself.” My voice is filled with anger, shaking with it in fact and he is visibly taken aback. The fact he’s acting like I’m a child that needs babysitting absolutely burns my core. He doesn’t have to watch me, make sure I don’t fall down and get a boo-boo. I have more than enough ways to protect myself.

I don’t give him a chance to argue back, to tell me that he does in fact need to escort me back, because Mother Miranda can’t risk something happening to the source of her progress. Yet another thing I have to exist for that isn’t myself or my choice. Instead I let the fluttering beats of my rage turn into the beats of wings, swarming from my full form into my mass of moths. Vaguely I recognize the sound of his cursing as I take off towards the castle. Everything feels so much calmer when I’m like this, simpler. Just move the wings, keep the destination in mind and trust in myself to get there.

I make it to the gates before I force myself to reform. Mother doesn’t like seeing me like that. Says I should use it for emergencies only because it leaves me more exposed between the fact I’m literal bugs and the time it takes for my body to set back. I push the heavy iron gates open with a resounding creak, surely announcing my presence to everyone inside that I’ve returned. My feet barely step over the barrier when I hear him shout my name from behind me. Why couldn’t he just leave, I wonder, especially if he is oh so concerned about my safety. He calls out to me again, closer this time, but I set my pace with purpose, not slowing or stopping when he curses again. Steeling my bones as I hear the gate slam back shut loudly so I don’t jump. I know my mother is waiting for me inside, ready to ambush me, to push me for every last detail to make sure I behaved appropriately. With some luck, hopefully my sisters will be off somewhere, tormenting some poor servant so I don’t have to deal with them immediately as well. Given how frayed my nerves are, I don’t entirely know how well I would be able to keep myself from doing something I would be punished for. But honestly, after all of that, it might be worth it just to blow off some steam.

@foggyturtleknightangel @beingviolentlyhappy

[hostess-of-horror]

M.B. v.s. Brenda

[M.B. is my Cadetsona OC, M.J. and Brenda belong to @sleepy-heads-blog]

It's another day for the Freelance Police, and M.B. is still in training as the Cadet. She knew that being a new recruit requires physical challenges, but she never thought that she would become almost part of Sam and Max's family. Other than the obstacles back at the Aquabear Theme Park, M.B. had to do grocery shopping, cleaning chores, and had to watch over their son, M.J., every now and then. Not that she complained - a job is a job, after all. Of course, spending time with M.J. is never a chore for her. On this particular day, Sam and Max received news that the Commissioner gave them a day off since there were no cases to be found. M.B. decided to take this opportunity to spend a day around town, going window shopping and getting herself a gyro for lunch. All was well, until she finds a rather upsetting scene.

---

[As she finishes her lunch, M.B. hears yelling in the distance. She looks over to find a distressed M.J. power-wslking away from a girl, who is chasing after him.]

M.B.: *to herself* "...the hell?"

[M.B. throws away her trash and immediately begins to go after them. Moving closer, she realizes who this person is: Brenda. Brenda is shouting obscene insults towards M.J., as if she was oblivious to the world around her.]

M.J.: *turns around in anger* "Leave me ALONE!"

[As he does, Brenda gets right up to his face and shoves him into the ground.]

M.B.: "HEY!"

[M.B. immediately runs up and gets in-between Brenda and M.J.]

M.B.: "What the f*ck is wrong with you?! Leave him alone!"

Brenda: "Who the f*ck are you, b*tch?"

M.B.: "A friend, now leave him be!"

Brenda: "Who do you think you are?! Get the f*ck outta my way!"

M.B.: "No! I said, LEAVE M.J. ALONE!"

[Offended by this outburst, Brenda swings at M.B., backhanding her right across her face.]

M.J.: "Miss M.B.!"

[M.B. yelps. The impact stings with pain, leaving a fushed, throbbing feeling on her cheek.]

Brenda: "Don't you f*cking yell at me! This is none of your business, so f*ck off and go to Hell, you Satanic-@$$ wh*re!"

[M.B. winced at the pain, her eyes watery. She stands silent for a moment. The urge to fight back rises up from her chest. Her heartbeat quickens with adrenaline and fury. M.B. takes in a deep breath.]

M.B.: "You're right. I will go to Hell. There's a place for me there." *turns to look at Brenda* "It's called a throne."

[With a snap of her fingers, a burst of green and purple aura shoots out and surrounds M.B. Both Brenda and M.J. jolt back.]

Brenda: "What the hell?!"

[M.B.'s face remains expressionless as she raises her arms, bending the strange aura to her will. It gathers in her hands, illuminating like small starlit galaxies. On the ground, a magical circle appears around M.B. and M.J. like a barrier. Brenda takes more steps backward.]

M.B.: "I suggest you run away... Right now."

[Suddenly, from M.B.'s back sprouts two giant, black skeletal bat wings. As they spread, three monstrous gremlins crawl out from the circle, snarling and groveling, all looking at Brenda. M.B. lets out a mighty battle cry and the gremlins charge for the attack. Brenda screams in terror; the chase begins. M.J. finally gets up and watches as M.B. follows behind. He is speechless. Brenda runs away in fear as M.B.'s gremlins inch closer and closer. She tries to dodge them by entering a long, dark corridor in-between shops. She is stopped at a dead end.]

Brenda: "Oh God! Oh God, oh God, oh... GOD!"

[M.B. and her gremlins catch up to her.]

M.B.: "Ah, there you are!"

Brenda: "GET AWAY FROM ME!"

[Brenda grabs a nearby rock and throws it at M.B., but one of the gremlins jumps and catches it mid-air.]

Gremlins #1: *cackling* "I caught it! I caught it!"

M.B.: *giggles* "Yes, you did." *lightly pats him on his head* "Good boy..."

[Brenda is completely cornered. There is no way to run except forward. But why would she run towards this powerful Goth chick and her "pets"?]

M.B.: "Hm. Not so tough now, aren't you? To quote Obi-Wan Kenobi, I have the high ground." *flips her off*

[Brenda back up, and instead of hitting a brick wall, she feels something moist and slimy. She looks up, finding her up against this huge mass of flesh, teeth, and boils. It squirms to her touch, excrementing saliva and mucus. A boil pops with pus every now and then. Brenda freaks out and falls onto the ground. M.B. and her gremlins laugh at her terror.]

M.B.: *looks up* "Oh look! They're hatching! You know, you'd make an excellent meal for the little ones!"

Brenda: "L-little ones?!"

[The wall of flesh begin to swell into one massive boil. Then it explodes! Emerging from this putrid crater are swarms of large baby maggots, chewing everything in their path. Brenda panicks as she is suddenly attacked and covered by them.]

M.B.: "Not only would you be a delicious snack, but you'd also be their new home. Soon your fresh corpse will be filled to the brim with them! Just think of all the games they'll play inside your ribcage and your intestines and your brain.... every nook and cranny.... until there's nothing left. And just think, your life will have finally made its purpose."

Brenda: *crying hysterically* "STOP! STOP IT! PLEASE STOP IT! OH MY GOD, PLEASE STOP!"

[Brenda opens her eyes. Silence. She finds herself on the ground and looks around.. No maggots. No wall of flesh. No gremlins. No bat wings. Nothing but her and M.B., face to face, within a dark corridor. M.B. slowly approaches her; Brenda scrambles back and up against the brick wall, flinching at its texture.]

M.B.: "If you ever hurt M.J., Geek, or anyone else again..." *leans down over Brenda* "I will show you what Hell truly looks like."

[Her eyes filled with tears, Brenda's whole body shakes in fear. Hesitantly, she inches herself away from her, still looking up at her, waiting for the next abomination to appear. M.B. backs away, allowing Brenda to run away and never turn back. M.B. sighs, examining her cheek with a touch. It still stings.]

M.B.: "Ah..! F*ck, it hurts... f*cking b*tch..."

[M.B. turns around to leave the corridor. There stands in front of her a shocked M.J., staring at her with large wide eyes.]

M.B.: "Oh, sh*t! Uh... I-uh...." *takes in a deep breath* "Oh... God... uh...." *clicks tongue and puts her hands together* "I... I can explain."

[noxshade]

Day 30 & 31: Showdown and Anticlimax

“Why don’t you show yourself, ‘Mistress’?”

Reimu Hakurei looked around, trying to find the mastermind of this plot.  The moon had risen by this late hour; not that you could see it clearly, just a pale red glow behind the scarlet fog.  There was a great rumbling in the air, and a cloud of bats flew past Reimu, converging in a swarming mass.  From this writhing, a figure emerged.  

A slender young girl, her skin a bloodless, pallid shade.  She was clad in soft pinks and vibrant reds in an aristocratic, gothic, western style, two leathery bat wings, black as night against the red mist, spouted from her back, lazily flapping far too slowly to support her, but still she hung in the air before her.  She brushed a lock of her wavy, powder-blue hair behind one pointed ear and looked down at Reimu.

“Ah, just one?  I was told there were two human intruders,” she said in a vaguely western accent.  

An outsider then, Reimu guessed, based on her voice. “Sorry to disappoint, but it’s just me for now.  The other one is dealing with your pet wizard,” she said.  She and Marisa had been ambushed by the maid and the librarian, and they had split up to deal with them.

“Oh, so that’s how it all worked out.  I look forward to seeing the book Patchy will bind with her skin.”  The looks of quiet amusement as she said this betrayed her age, thought Reimu.  The hint of bemused malice in her child’s voice and the shadow of sadism that crossed her too-young face told Reimu that whatever this thing was, it was nowhere near as young as it appeared.

“And I assume you’re looking to do something similar to me, yeah?” Reimu asked.  She shifted her grip on her gohei purification rod and stared back into those blood-red, slit-pupiled eyes.  “Something cruel and unspeakable?”

“It’s not polite to assume things, especially about your host,” the girl responded.  She folded her hands in front of her, like they were making polite conversation.  “I’m rather thinking of asking you to leave my manor for this behavior.  You’ve harassed my staff, disrupted their work, annoyed my friend and if you don’t leave soon you may disturb my dear sister.”

“Well, remove the red fog from Gensokyo, and you might make it back to your dear sister in one piece,” Reimu said, drawing a handful of ofuda talismans.

“If you think this is a game, priestess, you’re sadly mistaken,” the girl said.  She flicked her hand and a massive, intricately ornate winged spear flew into her outstretched palm, too fast for Reimu to tell where it had come from.  “This is all too real.”  They both smiled tightly.

“Looks like it's going to be a long night.”

“Looks like it's going to be a fun night.”

~~~

Reimu Hakurei awoke from another dream, again anxious, disappointed and confused.  These dreams of a fantasy land were always so exciting, but when she awoke it all turned back to crushing disappointment as she remembered her real life.

She rolled checked her bedside clock, and despite wanting to stay in bed another hour, she judged that it was time to start her day.  She rolled off her futon and began her morning routine.  Boil a kettle for tea, brush hair, toast bread, find clothes.  As she spread a tiny amount of jam on her toast, she tried to remember what her dream had been about.  Another of her many heroic fantasies, like all dreams they faded almost as soon as she woke up.  But this one had been so intense, was she fighting a vampire with a spear?

She finished her toast, and found some clean clothes.  A once-bright red hoodie, now a deeper, faded color, and an equally old pair of khaki cargo pants, now devoid of almost all color except the dull smear of age.  She slipped into her pair of beat-up sneakers and tied up her hair into a loose bun, tied with one of her keepsakes from her mother, a red, frilled ribbon.  The locals had always talked about her with such admiration, Reimu felt a private shame that she couldn’t remember much of anything about her, but the ribbon and the two red fabric tubes she wore on her long sidelocks felt familiar in a way nothing else did.

Finally dressed, she slid her front door up, and stepped out into the mid-morning fog of Gensokyo, Tokyo.  Tucked away between Shinkaji and Shimokitazawa, the neighborhood was oft-forgotten by the authorities, filled equally with retirees and hipsters.  Reimu grabbed her broom from inside the Hakurei Shrine, and closed the door.  She checked her donation box on her way down the stairs, and pocketed the spare coins; judging them enough for a sandwich lunch from the corner store later in the day.  She set to sweeping the path between the torii and the shrine, trying to keep this tiny corner of nature wedged between urban sprawl clean.

“Um, hello?” came a voice from behind her.  Reimu turned to see a pale salaryman, sick mask over his face, looking around nervously as he stood on the threshold beneath the torii gate.  She turned and answered him.

“Hello, what are you looking for?” she said, leaning on her broom.

“Are you…the manager of this shrine?” he asked, looking around.

“No, but I would be if shrines had managers,” Reimu responded, wondering what this could possibly be about.  Another real estate stooge trying to buy up the shrine?

“Oh well, um,” he stumbled over his words before continuing. “I’ve got a bit of a weird problem, and I was given this flyer about it…” he produced a slip of paper and offered it to Reimu and she took it.  It read in white lettering outlined in red: “Exorcisms and Spiritual Exterminations: Hakurei Shrine Services” with a picture of the shrine and the address.  Marisa had made these for her months ago, and little had come from putting them all over the neighborhood except for one near-signed old woman trying to get Reimu to handle her tatami mite infestation.  Did Marisa print more of them without telling her?

“Where did you get this?” Reimu asked.   

The man looked even more nervous.  “Well, I was out drinking after work a few nights ago, and I may have started complaining about how…” he paused, looking embarrassed.  Reimu gestured for him to continue, and he collected himself.  “About how the apartment above mine is haunted.  One of the other regulars at the bar said that she knew a great exorcist who could settle the spirit, and she gave me that flyer.  Is that you?”

“Yes, that’s me,” Reimu said to try and calm his obvious nerves. “Do you know this regular?”

“Um, I don’t know her name.” Reimu gestured for him to continue again, and the man explained: “Tall, middle aged, blond hair, dressed in a dark purple business suit.  The bartender says she’s a night owl: stays until dawn, then leaves.”  Despite the right hair color, that didn’t sound anything like Marisa.  After thinking it over for a moment and coming up with nothing, she returned her attention to the salaryman.

“So, a haunted apartment above yours?” she asked.

“Yes, I’ve spoken to the building manager, but she doesn’t believe me.  She walked me through the apartment when I lodged a noise complaint, she said it’s empty because of some kind of rot in the floorboards that she can’t find anyone to fix, but…”

“What kind of noises are you hearing?”

“Moaning, scratching, and loud thumps at the floor,” he said.  “At first, it thought it must be someone that was kidnapped, or held against their will, but since she showed me that it’s empty and she keeps the door locked, I’m convinced it’s haunted.  It’s happened every night for two months now, and I can’t get any sleep.”

Reimu mulled the problem over.  She needed cash, but a locked apartment might not be so easy.  She wondered if Marisa still had her lockpicking kit from her B&E days - who was she kidding? Of course Marisa still had it, the girl never threw anything away.  Reimu checked her watch, and tried to remember when Marisa would be out of her classes; not until 5 pm at the latest, which left them plenty of time for a nighttime ritual and exorcism.

“Alright, if you can pay, I can remove this spirit for you,” Reimu said, shifting her tone of voice to her saleswoman pitch.  “Base fee is thirty thousand yen, with additional fees if the spirit is troublesome and takes longer, and a down payment of five thousand yen for materials.”

The man swallowed behind his mask.  “So, you can do it soon, then?” he said as he removed several bills from his wallet.

“Yes, we can do it tonight.  I’ll need my associate, who should be free tonight.” She accepted the five bills with a bow. “And besides, exorcisms are best performed when the spirit is active, so we’d have to wait regardless.”  She pocketed the cash, and directed the man into the shrine to get his address and take stock of her supplies.

While she may not have been as fearless as the other Reimu in her dreams, she was still an exterminator of spirits, and a keeper of Gensokyo’s balance.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29772798/chapters/74911179

(I guess this is as good a place to start an AU.  Focused on an urban fantasy feel, and majorly inspired by this picture, look for stories in this universe here and on my AO3.)

[jalapeno-princess]

Through His Eyes

(Y’all, look at the deep v-neck in the suit might as well take it off Tuan)

Mark Tuan X Reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Genre: Adorable fluff (tiny bit of angst and insecurities) oh and a couple mentions of body praise (and a couple descriptions of sex but very few)

Summary: Mark being the most supportive, patient, understanding and golden-hearted boyfriend we all deserve.

A/N: So, I wrote this in less than twenty minutes. I was on instagram and I began scrolling through my explore page and stumbled across a few girls who I think are so pretty and I began picking apart my entire being and I started to think so low about myself and I hate degrading myself so much because of what I see on social media so I ended up writing a quick little imagine based on what I just went through and ugh, what I would do to have a boyfriend like Mark in this story (or just like Mark in general I can feel it in my ass that he’s like this towards the lucky person who ends up receiving his love @ God...When? Hahahaha) anyways, I just want to let you all know that you are all beautiful in your own ways and the right person will love you just the way you are! I need to keep reminding that to myself. Enjoy!

“Hey Mark?”

After a hectic week of work with both of your schedules colliding, you and your boyfriend Mark finally had a day off where you could spend your time together doing whatever it is your hearts desired. Today, since you were both exhausted from the many hours of overtime you completed, Mark suggested that you’d just laze around your shared apartment doing your own things while basking in each other’s presence.

You were currently propped up on your bed, leaning against the headboard scrolling through your social media accounts while he was sat in between your legs, his head was heavy against your chest while he played the latest installment of call of duty, but it didn’t matter. You loved having him so close to you and your heart fluttered each time he looked up at you and nonverbally hinted towards wanting a kiss.

Although a small part of you wanted to do something a little more romantic like go to the beach and watch the sunset or dress up for a night on the town, you loved being in an environment where you could be yourself without having to worry about what others thought about you. You also enjoyed the alone time with your boyfriend. Even if the two of you live together, you hardly got to see him other than right before you went to bed.

He hummed gently in curiosity at your sudden call of his name, but continued to flick at the controller angrily. A small giggle fell from your lips at his tiny little grunt when he got killed in the game. For someone who was extremely soft spoken and gentle, he was a completely different person while playing video games. It’s as if the only time Mark would ever get mad was whenever he had a game console in his hands. You took a deep breath, afraid of his reaction after past experience of being in a situation like this and finally placed your phone in front of him.

“Do you think she’s pretty?”

You may not have been able to see him since the position the two of you were sitting in prevented you from doing so, but you’ve been dating Mark for long enough to know that he probably took a quick glance because he did not stop shooting at the bad guys at all.

“Hmm—She’s alright.”

He continued to play the game as if you didn’t just ask him what he thought about another girl and you couldn’t help but grow curious. You thought this girl was extremely pretty, and by the many comments she got on the photo, you knew many people agreed with you. However, hearing that Mark didn’t think much of her to even bat an eye at her photo made your cheeks warm.

From time to time, you’d find yourself wondering if Mark ever regretted getting in to a relationship with you. When he first asked you to be his girlfriend almost three years ago, you thought he was just playing around with you. But he made it painfully obvious that he harbored feelings for you and reminded you every single day that he loved you with his entire being.

No matter how many times he would compliment you not only on your beauty, but on your personality, intelligence and your heart, you still felt extremely insecure and always compared yourself to the girls you’d see on Instagram. At one point, Mark took away your phone to get you to stop obsessing over other woman you’d see on social media because he hated that you thought so low of yourself. It was hard for him as your boyfriend hearing you degrade yourself because he thought the world of you.

He tried his best to be patient with you and he knew that insecurities were normal because there were a couple of things he wished he could change about himself too. Yet, it always upset him hearing that you wish you could look like these girls whom he was sure heavily edited their photos before posting them and he had a feeling they didn’t look like that in real life. A few minutes later, you returned your phone back in to his face and asked about a different girl.

“What about her? What do you think about her?” He released a sigh before shrugging. Mark tried his best to not get angry on you or take out his frustrations on you nor did the two of you ever really have any arguments in the duration of your relationship; but if you did ever disagree it was on the topic of how you looked.

Sometimes Mark would blame your insecurities on himself; was he not complementing you enough? Was he not showing love to your body the right way while the two of you would have sex? Did he say something to make you feel like you weren’t pretty? He could never put his finger on it. All he could do was sit there and listen to you complain about things he knew weren’t true because he didn’t want fights to break out for something so minuscule and not worth fighting for.

“I don’t think about her. Now, this level is going to need all my attention babe, so give me a few minutes without any interruptions please?”

You nodded in agreement; but you felt bad for doing this to him. You couldn’t help it. It wasn’t like you enjoyed doing this. Who wanted to hear what their boyfriend had to say about other women? What girl in their right minds would continue to pester their boyfriend about whether or not he thought another girl was pretty? Deep down, you wished you weren’t so insecure; you wish you could look at another girl and think “Hey, she’s pretty. But so am I.”

But you couldn’t. That wasn’t who you were. If a girl had a nice body, you’d find reasons to hate on yours. Every time you’d look at a model, you wondered if they had a body Mark would prefer his significant other to have. If she had nicely shaped brows, you wondered if Mark disliked your thick, bushy ones. If she had a petite frame, you’d beat yourself up in thinking that Mark would rather have a girlfriend who was smaller than your busty and more voluptuous body.

It took you a while to come to the conclusion, but you had a mental illness and you despised yourself for allowing society to make you feel as if you weren’t beautiful. When you realized Mark succeeded and moved on to the next level, you tapped his shoulder gently and waited for him to turn around.

“Okay, last one I promise. Don’t you think she’s extremely pretty?”

Your boyfriend’s eye roll didn’t go unnoticed to you and you couldn’t stop the scoff that emerged from the back of your throat.

“Mark, I think you need to get your eyes checked. Every girl that I showed you are practically goddesses. You know, you don’t have to lie for my sake. I would rather you tell me the truth so I can work on myself and change for the better—“

“But that’s the thing y/n, you don’t have to change at all. I’m not lying for your sake. I’d be lying if I said I found any of those girls relatively pretty and you wanna know why? I completely desensitized myself towards any other girl the day I met you. You are the most beautiful girl that I have ever seen and no—I know what you are going to say. I’m not just saying that because you’re my girlfriend, I’m saying it because it’s the truth. You are so fucking beautiful y/n. Some nights I’ll stay up just looking at you in awe of how beautiful you are. Everything you claim to hate about yourself, I love profusely. Your smile could light up an entire room with how bright and contagious it is. Your nose is so cute, your dimples are so pretty, your brows; you always talk about how much you hate them but baby so many girls would kill to have them. Your cheekbones are so well defined, your eyes have this sparkle in them especially when you talk about the things that you love and don’t even get me started on your lips.”

He turned his body completely and was sitting on your lap at this point. His high pitched laughter filled the room as soon as he saw a tear fall from your cheek. One thing about Mark, although he was a man of little words but of many actions is that when he did speak, each and every word pulled on your heartstrings in the most captivating way. He placed a gentle kiss on your forehead before cupping both of your cheeks in his hands.

“Your heart must be so big, that there wasn’t enough room to fit it in your beautiful body that God had to put some of it in your lips. Your lips are the perfect shade of pink and they’re so soft and I love how they feel against mine. Whenever we kiss, I’m telling you, I feel butterflies swarming in my stomach every single time—look at what you’ve done to me baby. I’m a fucking ball of cheese when it comes to you but it’s because I love you so much and I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. I um—I also particularly enjoy the way your lips look and feel when they’re wrapped around my cock—what? You said to be honest here y/n it’s the truth. Fine, but I’m serious.”

His lips softly ghosted over yours before he finally stole a few fleeting kisses. No matter how many times the two of you would kiss, you were never able to pull away. You would proudly admit with no hesitation that you were addicted to Mark’s lips and you loved how they were always so sweet and melded perfectly with yours; like honey.

“Fuck, and your body was perfectly crafted. You always say you hate how thick your thighs are, but if I’m being honest, I love how thick they are baby. I think they are so luscious and they feel so good wrapped around my waist as I bottom in to you or when I eat out this pretty little pussy of yours, they’re like my own personal ear muffs. You have the most insane curves that every single thing you wear looks amazing on you. You could be wearing one of my baggy shirts or one of my hoodies that practically swallow you whole and I will always want to rip it off of you. You have the prettiest titties; they’re so huge, so plump and so perky. Loving on them is one of my favorite parts of sex: I particularly like gliding my dick in and out of them, but I also like seeing your nipples harden whenever I pinch and twist at them or when I bring one of your breasts in my mouth. And shit, whenever you wear low cut tops, I have to prevent myself from fucking you senseless no matter where we are. Oh, and your ass is a masterpiece. I love how it bounces against by cock whenever I take you from the back, I enjoy slapping them when you’re naughty and fuck, massaging both your cheeks is a dream. Wow, I’m surprised you didn’t hit me like you normally would whenever I talk about how fucking sexy your body is—and I spoke too soon.” He rubbed the part of his shoulder where you shoved him all but gently and took your hands in his.

“Not only are you beautiful on the outside, but you are exceedingly beautiful on the inside to and a girl like that is rare to find. I’m sorry if I don’t remind you enough of how perfect I think you are or how much I love you, but I think the entire world of you baby. You’re it for me. You’re my person, my soulmate y/n. You’re the only girl I ever look at and want to look at for the rest of my life. So stop showing me these random women you find on twitter or instagram because you’re going to get the same response out of me every single time—wait. There is a girl I find very attractive. Give me your phone.”

You furrowed your brows and didn’t even try to hide your disappointment at his sudden change of heart. He literally just told you you’re the only girl in the world to him yet he says there’s someone else he thinks is good looking. Right as you’re about to make a comment, he hands you back your phone and you playfully roll your eyes when you see your profile.

“Damn, she’s a beauty isn’t she? Now that’s a fucking goddess, I just got hard looking at her. You think she’d respond to me if I sent her a DM?” You were quick to shove him off of you but you pushed him down on the bed and hovered over him.

“I’m sorry for always bothering you about these things Mark. I’ll try my best to stop comparing myself to other people. But I hope you know that I’m extremely grateful for all that you do and say to try and get me to learn to love myself. Don’t think you don’t compliment me enough, in fact I think you are too generous with your sweet words. I’m the stubborn one who refuses to accept it but I’ll work on it. I love you Mark, so much. I really don’t deserve you.” You stole a chaste kiss from his lips before he pulled you down so that you were chest to chest with him and snaked his arms around your waist.

“Don’t say that, you deserved the entire universe babe, and I plan on giving it to you. Now that I told you just how beautiful you are, what do you think about getting a physical demonstration? And then maybe later, you could show me just how grateful you are for me while on your knees as I shove this dick down your throat—oh, you’re gonna pay for that. I never understand why you aren’t this physical when we make love. Get back over here y/n! I’m going to make sure you can’t walk for the rest of the week once I’m done with you.”

[multifandomfanficss]

My Babysitter’s a Vampire

Benny x Reader Oneshot

Love Positions Don’t Work On Me

Prompt: The Reader has a crush on Benny. When Benny cooks up a love potion for him and Ethan to get girlfriends he doesn’t understand why it doesn’t work on the reader.

Tick tock tick tock tick tock the loud clock droned on as you waited for your class to end. It was almost your favorite time of day. Lunch. Lunch was the time when you got to hang out with your friends and talk to the boy you liked. He was in your friend group, but you could never tell him you liked him. You were afraid to ruin what you had and plus that crap destroys friend groups. You just had to keep it a secret. It wasn’t a very well kept secret. It seemed like everyone knew you had a crush on Benny except for Benny. I guess it was kinda like Ethan’s whole thing with Sarah. He was always so incredibly obvious, but she didn’t notice or maybe she just didn’t care. No matter how hard you try you feel like you’re being too obvious. At least that’s what Erica and Sarah tell you. RING the ring of the bell ripped you from your thoughts as you grabbed your books and headed to your locker to see Benny. Your lockers were right next to each other. You stopped dead in your tracks when you got close enough to see Benny and Ethan at Benny’s locker with Sarah and Erica. Sarah was strangely hanging off of Ethan and to make things even stranger Erica was kissing Benny. You were furious. How could she do this to you?! She was supposed to be one of your best friends. You ran to the bathroom and proceeded to lock yourself in a stall and try to hold in the sobs. You knew you weren’t Benny’s type and that he could never possibly like you back, but you were furious at Erica for hurting you like that. She knew how much you liked him. Plus she could have any guy in school. She always goes for the jocks and the populars. What was she doing kissing this idiot? My idiot. Then the confusion set in. Why was she kissing Benny? Why was she even talking to him in public. Then the realization set in. That idiot! He used magic to get Sarah and Erica to date him and Ethan. You were pissed. You had to find them. You rushed out of the bathroom and ran into Rory. “Hey (Y/N)! How’s it hanging?” He asked. “I’m sorry Rory I don’t have time to talk right now” You apologize. “Do you know what Benny and Ethan did to get all of those bodacious babes to follow them around school? I tried to ask them, but Benny just said they had mad skills and-“ “Wait what do you ALL THOSE bodacious babes?! Are you saying it’s more girls than just Erica and Sarah?!” You ask. “Yeah! I didn’t believe it either. I saw them in the cafeteria. They had girls swarming them” He said in surprise. The anger bubbled inside of you. “I’m going to kill him” You say rather calmly as you walked away from Rory and head into the direction of Benny’s next class. Lunch was over now so you had to find him in the middle of English class. “So I’ll catch you later?!” Rory yelled down the hall at you with a voice crack. You didn’t respond. You were too angry. Dating somebody else? That would be one thing. But using magic to take away the free will of every girl in school to get them all to fall in love with you? He was so dead. They were both dead. I have no doubt that Ethan was part of this idiot scheme too.

When you got to his class you saw Erica making kissy face through the window on the door. She was obviously trying to get Benny out of class so they could fool around in the bathroom. When he didn’t come out she gave a pouty face and walked away. That was surprising. You walked up to the window next. You sent him a text saying CODE BLUE: Meet me outside now! “I really need to go to the bathroom. It’s kind of an emergency.” Benny said to his teacher who obviously didn’t want him leaving class. She sighed. “Fine. Hurry” His teacher said in an aggravated tone. Benny left the classroom to meet you in the hallway and you pulled him to the side. “What’s wrong is everything oka-“ You cut him off by punching him in the arm. “Ow! Hey! What did I do to deserve that?!” He yelled in a sort of hushed tone. “You’re such an idiot.” You say in a stern voice. “I thought you were in trouble. You said ‘code blue” He questioned you. “Yeah. Code red is trouble. Code blue is for BENNY IS A DUMBASS.” You yell at him. “I can’t believe you used your magic to get every single girl in school to fall in love with you! How could you do that?! How could you be that ridiculously irresponsible and rude?! Think about what you did to all of those girls!” You lecture him. “HeyHey Hey- I was just trying to help Ethan okay. You know he’s liked Sarah for-like-ever” He tries to reason. “First of all I love Ethan, but Sarah should have her own free will to decide on her own who she wants to date and secondly that doesn’t mean you should have forced every girl in school to fall in love with both of you!” You continue to lecture. “I dropped the bottle I didn’t mean to-“ He stopped talking and you could see the wheels turning. “Wait a second. If every girl in school is in love with me, why aren’t you? It even worked on Erica, but you’re just mad at me” He asked. The wheels were turning and sooner or later he was going to figure it out. “(Y/N)....are you...” he trailed off for a second. Oh no. He knows I like him. “A lesbian?” He asked. That is not what I was expecting. “I mean it would explain a lot considering you’ve never had a boyfriend and-“ You cut him off again. “Will you shut up! I’m not a lesbian and even if I was that shouldn’t even matter” You say not knowing what else to say. You weren’t a lesbian, although you were an ally. “You can tell me. It’s okay. I’m your best friend” Benny said sincerely as he put his hand on your shoulder. You could feel your heartbeat in your throat as you looked up at him with his perfect smile and his stupid brown hair. “You have to get back to class. I have to go...” You trailed off as you turned away from Benny and walked down the hall. “(Y/N)! Wait!” He started after you. “I just can’t do this right now” you said quietly as you walked away. A single tear slipped down your face, but he couldn’t see it because your back was to him.

RING the last bell of the day rang and you were out for the day. You just wanted to go home and forget anything ever happened. You stood at your locker packing up your things when you heard your name being called “Hey, (Y/N)! Wait up!” You heard Ethan’s voice through the crowd of students. “What do you want Ethan?” You were still mad, but you were angrier with Benny considering he was the one who actually created the spell. It was probably his idea too. “I just wanted to say that I totally respect you and whatever you’re going through. Ya know I have a cousin who’s gay” He said trying to be supportive. “For the last time I’m not a lesbian!” You exclaim, shutting your locker and walking out of the school. This had all gone way too far. You knew what you had to do. It was time to pull out the big guns.

You stood in front of Benny’s front door. You pressed the button and heard the doorbell. The door opened to see the sweet face of Benny’s grandmother, a sweet old woman with magic powers, totally capable of kicking anyone and everyone’s ass. “(Y/N)? What are you doing here? Benny is supposed to be at Ethan’s. I thought you three would be hanging out there” She questioned me. “Benny is at Ethan’s, but Benny is also being an idiot so that’s why I’m here” You explain. “When isn’t he my dear?” She joked. You laugh a little. “Come on in. I’ll make you a snack” She offered. You gladly accept and sit down in the living room. She brings you a sandwich and a glass of lemonade. “Thanks Grandma” You smile. You loved Benny’s grandmother. Your own grandparents lived out of state so you were never close with them. “So what have the boys gotten themselves into this time?” She asked, obviously a little tired of their bullshit. “Benny made a love potion and now every girl in school is in love with them” You sigh. She gave me a sad look. She knew. Grandmas always do. “Don’t worry my dear. They’ll get their’s” She smiled. “What do you mean?” You ask. “The Earth must stay in balance. When you knock it out of balance, it will knock back. As much as those girls loved them, they’ll hate them just as much” She laughs. “Oh my god” You grow to have a horrified look on your face. “What’s wrong my dear? Don’t you want them to pay for what they did?” She asks. “Erica kissed Benny! Like she KISSED HIM! She barely even likes him on a normal day! She’s gonna kill him” You explain with worry. “I gotta go!” You say rushing out of the house and over to Ethan’s.

When you arrived at Ethan’s house you saw angry girls all over his lawn. The martial arts club had baseball bats and hockey sticks. You start to fight some of them off. “I am so sorry that I told Ethan you were a lesbian! Please don’t kill me!” You hear Benny scream. “I’m not a lesbian!” You exclaim putting your fist out, punching and successfully knocking out the president of the martial arts club. That’s when Erica and Sarah drop down. “You’ve gotta be kidding me! You two just had to magically seduce the two strongest beings at our high school, didn’t you?!” You yell at them. “Nobody is killing Benny, but me!” Erica argues. “And nobody is killing Ethan, but me!” Sarah adds. “Well too bad because neither of you will be killing anyone” You inform them. You then pull out the UV lightsaber the boys made to fend off the girls. They won’t go anywhere near the light and as long as they stay away nobody gets hurt. It’s like a bug zapper for vampires. Sarah and Erica started hissing and you knew you needed a plan quickly. “I have an idea!” Ethan says almost on que. “Well I’d love to hear it!” You and Benny both yell at the same time. You get a little blushy, but the boys can’t see because they’re standing behind you. Next thing you know you’re being pulled into some cage that Ethan bought online from some movie or something. “Are you sure this will work?” You ask. “The eternity cage is impenetrable!” Ethan exclaims. “And so is the prop...I hope...” Benny adds. The three of you migrate to the center of the cage where Sarah and Erica won’t be able to touch you and you decide to wait it out in close quarters. Benny and Ethan were pretty close, but Benny was on top of you. He had one arm wrapped around you. You don’t even think he noticed. It seemed like second nature to him, but you didn’t mind. “How long do you think this is gonna last?” You ask. “Well they loved us for 6 hours so I’m guessing they’ll hate us for about 5 more” Ethan guesses. “Awesome” You state as more girls flock to the cage. You press close into Benny as you leave one arm extended with the UV lightsaber. He wraps his arm tighter around you. “I’m sorry” He says quietly. “For what? Telling Ethan I’m a lesbian? Even when I’m not even a lesbian?” You ask him. “Well no, but I’m sorry for that too” He apologies. “What I meant was I’m sorry for getting you into this” He adds. “It’s okay. You didn’t mean to drop the bottle” You acknowledge. “Why are you in this?” Ethan asks. “What do you mean? I care about you guys” You tell him. “No, I mean why are you in THIS? Why weren’t you loving us in school and now hating us on the other side of these bars?” Ethan asks. You know the answer, but you just don’t feel like explaining. You’ve gone through all of this with Benny. You can’t lose him now. “I don’t know. Maybe I just spend so much time with you guys that Benny’s magic just doesn’t effect me like that” You spill out some stupid answer that you know isn’t true. Thankfully the boys believe it. Eventually you dose off in the cage in Benny’s arms while Ethan mans the UV lightsaber.

You wake up the next morning to see Sarah and Erica in front of the cage with Benny’s Grandmother a key...the key to the cage. You forgot you were locked in. You watched the boys beg to get out and eventually the girls let them out on one condition.

You were sitting on Benny’s front porch with Sarah and Erica while Benny’s Grandma was in the front yard with a lawn chair. You were drinking lemonade as the boys washed Benny’s Grandma’s car. The four of you were taking full advantage of the boys as payback and it was kinda funny although you did feel a little bad for them. They spent the night in a cage with girls wanting to tear them limb from limb surrounding them. You thought they’d had enough. “Hey, Benny I think we’re out of lemonade. Why don’t you come inside and help me make some more” I offer. “Yeah, sure” He puts down the sponge and heads inside with you. The kitchen is a little quiet until Benny breaks the silence. “So why didn’t my spell work on you?” He asks. “And don’t say you’re immune to my magic because that’s not how it works” He adds. You knew you had to tell him. No lie in the world could get you out of this. “Benny...” He looked at you with interest. “Love potions don’t work on me...because you can’t make somebody fall for you...who already likes you...” You tell him. You start to sweat and your blush becomes uncontrollable. “Wait you-“ “Yeah” You cut him off. “How long?” He asks. “Since like forever...” You tell him. “Since we met in middle school...” You add. He begins to smile. “Why didn’t you say anything?” He asks. “Well you were always all over other prettier girls and-“ He cuts me off. “(Y/N), no one is prettier than you” He tells me. “What?” You ask. “(Y/N) you are the funniest, smartest, bravest, most beautiful girl I have ever met” He confesses. “Really?” You ask. “Yes” He smiles and leans down to kiss you. You smile into the kiss. You pull away. “Benny! Where’s my lemonade with extra plasma?!” We hear Erica yell. We separate and laugh. We then get back to making the lemonade.

[the-septic-maniac]

Kenshiro and Sakura's Execution: Demons Vs The Warrior Cousins!

Thi is an execution for Sakura Ogami and her boyfriend/captive, Kenshiro. This is also going to include a couple of my fan kids. Happy Despairing!

Sakura and Kenshiro both woke up in a Killiesum with loud cheers of children. They looked around to see what seemed to be hundreds of kids, all wearing some sort of helmet that looked like a monokuma head. Soon, the entire room went dark and everyone went silent. A voice that sounded like a typical announcer at a fight. “Boys and Girls! Welcome to the Killiseum! Where Demons come to die! Tonight’s a special fight as it will be Demons against Demons! So let me introduce who's going to be fighting!” A light shone above them. “First, we have two of the strongest fighters, presumably known to demon kind! And they just so happen to be lovers! I welcome: Sakura Ogami and Kenshiro!” Boos came from the crowd with few cheers inbetween. “And for the ones fights on our side let me introduce you to the iconic duo, the ones who could possibly even out rank these two who their fighting. The ones who have fought of many a monokuma and joined our ranks as fighters and are semi demons! It would be my honor to introduce you to The Warrior Cousins: Evan Kuwata and Santa Nakajima!” Soon two figures emerged from the shadows. One had long hair that went from a sakura pink to white and had his hair in a messy ponytail. He had a sly, cocky look on his face. He wore a pink and green green gi with his hands having bandages on them. The other one had a green bow in her hair with it being in a ponytail as well. Her hair was dark green to a chestnut brown.The also wore a gi with the same colors but reversed. She had more of a neutral, focused look on her. Both had a strange device attached on their face like a lens that had the signature monokuma eye.

“Now that we have introduced our fighters, let us explain the rules! This is to the death! Which means that whoever loses, will be dead! There will be weapons available! Use those to your advantage, you four! Now without further a do, let the fight begun!”

A bell echoed throughout the room, signifying that their battle with the cousins had begun. They came at Sakura and Kenshiro at quick speed. They tried to move away so that they could avoid the two but Evan had appeared behind Sakura and whispered in her ear, “Hello Mother.” What? I don’t remember having a kid? Especially not with leon. Sakura’s mind swarmed with thoughts but she needed to focus at the task at hand. She begun to throw punches and kicks at Evan but very few were able to hit him. But several hits her. He was quick. If it was to really be believed than this could be her kid, but her life at the moment was at risk. Sakura and Evan danced around each other. Sakura had gained several bruises and was starting to tire out. Soon enough Evan had a familiar-looking katana in his hands. It looked to still have blood on it from when it was used to break a classmate's wrist. But it looked like it was actually sharpened instead of dull based on the fact that a lot of the gold foil was missing. “You seem to recognize this blade. It was just a blunt weapon when I found it. But now its my weapon of choice!” He struck it against Sakura’s knee and loud cracking noise echoed through out the Killiseum. Blood started to drip from her leg as he drew the blade across her leg. She stumbled and she tried to get back up again and searched for a weapon but she saw nothing good. “Going somewhere mom?” He struck again but this time on the other leg and he sliced at the knee, cutting in deep. A seering pain went up her leg as she tried to stand back up but she couldnt. “Its weird killing you but with my Father dead in a batting cage, and my aunt Kanon nowhere to be found ive gained a slight grudge against you and the rest of the survivors of that damned killing game. And santa agrees with me that we must do what we must. NOW DIE!” He drove the katana into Sakura’s chest, killing her. He digged around in her chest and pulled out her heart and showed it of to the crowd. He then crushed it inbetween his hands and went after Kenshiro who his cousin was fighting.

Kenshiro was struggling to fight aganstthe small spry girl that he stood up against. She was fast and even with little to no things to hid behind, she was sneaky as all get out. He heard her knuckles crack from behind him, and was punched at the back of his hand he stumbled but was still able to stand up. Tho his sickness was starting to get to him. Then, Evan joined the fight, with his katana on hand. Soon he was fighting alone with his partner dead on the ground, he tried to use that as motivation. But soon his sickness caught up with him and he fell to the ground, unable to get up. “I’ll let you handle this one my dear cousin” Evan said with a maniacal look on his face. “It would be my honor” santa gained a smirk unlike he’s ever seen. She soon got on top of Kenshiro and begun to strangle him with her bare hands. Kenshiro tried to push her off him but Evan sliced his elbows and knees to prevent him from thrusting his limbs around so much. Soon with a combination of his sickness and Santa strangling him he died. Santa asked for Evan’s katana. She cut open Kenshiro’s corpse and grabbed his heart and did the same thing that Evan did to it. Cheers erupted from the crowd. “Thats the end of the battle! The Warrior Cousins have won!” Evan and Santa waved to the crowd. Smirks on their face, they walked towards the exit.

Captives Execution Masterlist Execution Masterlists

[ahh-fxck]

Warrior’s Blues Chapter 8: I’ve Met Your Idiot

Greetings and salutations, beautiful denizens of Tumblr! Here it is, the much-awaited next chapter of Warrior’s Blues. In which we finally meet one of Geralt’s mysterious family members, Geralt gets a dressing-down in a hospital, and angst is to be had by all. Please enjoy, and if you like it, comment and reblog! Toss a smile to your author!

Big huge amazingly large thanks to @stressedspidergirlsfandomblog​ who is the co-creator and beta of this fic. This chapter especially was influenced and shaped by them. So if you like it, go check out their ao3 here!

As always, please let me know if you’d like to be (un)tagged from the tag list. This story updates approximately once every two weeks, which gives me adquate time to research and edit each chapter. Lil slow, but worth it? Definitely.

@astouract​ @smolpoe​​ @yes-im-the-violin-girl @ladyknight-keladry

“Geralt!” They turn to look as a small woman in an impeccable black suit, white blouse, and classic jewelry snaps to her feet. Her dark, curly hair is gathered with a clasp at the back of her head, and her light brown complexion is highlighted by impeccable makeup. She advances on them with a stormy expression on her elegant face, violet eyes flashing. Geralt goes as stiff, the little color he has in his pale complexion draining away while Jaskier looks on in shock.

She squares up with Geralt and locks eyes with him, a folder with x-rays partially sticking out of it clutched in her delicate looking fingers. Geralt gives her a lost, mortified look, then suddenly ducks as she reaches up and smacks him harmlessly (albeit noisily) across the head with the folder.

“Geralt Rivii! What the bloody fucking hell is wrong with you? What happened to you? Where the fuck have you been?” She hollers in a burst of fury, her small body shaking with the force of it. “Your shite showed up on my doorstep with no explanation! I had to track you halfway across the bloody globe! It’s been two weeks since your last appointment and I’ve been ripping this bloody fucking city apart looking for you! Why the fuck didn’t you call me? I thought you died!” Pulling back, she smacks him with the folder again passionately. “Why the fuck did you make yourself so hard to find?” Smack! “Do you have any idea what you’ve put me through?” Smack!

Chapter 8: I’ve Met Your Idiot

After that, the days pick up a rhythm. Jaskier makes coffee and breakfast in the mornings and gets Geralt set up for the day. They talk over breakfast, sharing small personal details and discovering mutual interests, slowly getting to know and like one another. Jaskier talks about events at the bar from the night before, and Geralt listens with cautious interest, becoming enamored with the tales he brings home despite his misgivings. Geralt in his turn reveals small stories about himself, favorite childhood treats and places that he’s seen as he’s traveled. Then they clean up the dishes together and Jaskier leaves to go about his daily activities. 

Geralt putters around the house, carefully avoiding the attic except to retrieve his clothes, unable to cope with the memories that swarm around the boxes stored up there. He drinks wine, watches television, and naps until Jaskier returns for dinner. They eat together, talk more, Jaskier goes to work, and when he returns, he always retrieves Geralt from the couch and takes him to bed. When they wake, they make love, shower, and have coffee, the cycle beginning again.  

The morning of the appointment, they wake and couple one last time, tangling together. They sink into each other, hungry mouths and seeking hands, soft cries and deep groans, collapsing in a sticky, happy knot of satiation at the end. Then they rise, get clean, eat breakfast. Geralt dons his outdated clothing and they head out the door together to Jaskier’s car in the early morning heat. 

When they park, the morning air outside the car is heavy and sticky. They walk side by side, already starting to move in the subtle sync of lovers, so much more comfortable with one another than they were on their last visit to the hospital. The air conditioning inside is a welcome contrast to the sticky heat of the outside. Geralt’s follow up is in a different wing of the hospital than the emergency department, so they venture cautiously into the maze of a building. After being pointed to the correct location by a woman at a desk who gives Geralt an inexplicably odd look, they make their way to the waiting room. It’s quiet, too early for many people to be there. As they push through the door, Geralt scans the room. Halfway through the door he stops dead in his tracks, Jaskier colliding into his back. 

“Ow, Geralt, what?” Jaskier complains mildly, stepping out from behind his lover just as a woman’s shout breaks the silence, startling the few people in the waiting room.

“Geralt!” They turn to look as a small woman in an impeccable black suit, white blouse, and classic jewelry snaps to her feet. Her dark, curly hair is gathered with a clasp at the back of her head, and her light brown complexion is highlighted by impeccable makeup. She advances on them with a stormy expression on her elegant face, violet eyes flashing. Geralt goes as stiff, the little color he has in his pale complexion draining away while Jaskier looks on in shock. 

She squares up with Geralt and locks eyes with him, a folder with x-rays partially sticking out of it clutched in her delicate looking fingers. Geralt gives her a lost, mortified look, then suddenly ducks as she reaches up and smacks him harmlessly (albeit noisily) across the head with the folder.

“Geralt Rivii! What the bloody fucking hell is wrong with you? What happened to you? Where the fuck have you been?” She hollers in a burst of fury, her small body shaking with the force of it. “Your shite showed up on my doorstep with no explanation! I had to track you halfway across the bloody globe! It’s been two weeks since your last appointment and I’ve been ripping this bloody fucking city apart looking for you! Why the fuck didn’t you call me? I thought you died!” Pulling back, she smacks him with the folder again passionately. “Why the fuck did you make yourself so hard to find?” Smack! “Do you have any idea what you’ve put me through?” Smack!

She rifles through the folder, pulling out the x-rays and flourishing them in his face. “And what the bloody fuck is this? Are you insane? Did you get into a fight? I can’t believe you!” She reaches up and whacks him resoundingly across the head with the x-rays this time, eliciting a satisfying ‘thwap’ sound. He grimaces guiltily as she hits him, seeming more chagrined than alarmed by this whole display. Despite the onslaught his body language toward her is gentle, as if he is patiently waiting her out. 

Jaskier, behind him, has recovered from his shock and steps out to try and herd the woman away from him. “Oh, hey now,” he exclaims, stepping forward with his hands held out to try and stop her. “That’s-”

“Who the fuck are you?” She rounds on Jaskier, her violet eyes dark with fury.

Jaskier steps back quickly, his back hitting the doorframe and his heart beginning to hammer. She looks slight, but he has the sensation from the way she moves that she is perfectly capable of breaking his arm without batting an eye. “I’m-” 

“Yen,” Geralt groans, mortified. “Leave him alone.” 

“Who the hell is this, Geralt?” The woman, Yennefer,  turns back to him with her eyes flashing. She’s so upset that she finds herself slipping into her native tongue of Hebrew, English temporarily lost.  <<What the fuck have you been doing? Have you been doing this idiot?! Two! Weeks!>> She hits him about the head and shoulders with the x-rays, which wobble and pop with every strike. She pauses for a moment, riffling furiously though the folder, takes out one piece of paper in particular, and hits him across the head with it, too. <<And I'm so glad,>> she snaps, <<that you don't have any sexually transmitted infections! Good to know finding that out was more important than calling. Your. Family!>> She stuffs the paper back into the folder, then punctuates the end of her sentence with several more harmless but noisy wobbling blows from the x-rays. 

Geralt ducks awkwardly as her strike lands. Yennefer had a tendency to be very passionate when she was upset, but she would never actually harm him. He gives her an embarrassed look, rounding his shoulders and allowing the blows to land without complaint. “Yen-” he starts, but she cuts him off. 

<<Don’t you ‘Yen’ me, Geralt,>> she snaps. <<I’ve been worried sick about you! Where have you been? What happened to you?!>> And just like that, she gathers him into her arms with all the passion she had been using to yell. She crushes him against herself, pressing her cheek to his and rocking him fiercely, her eyes suddenly burning. The solid warmth of him makes her heart hammer with relief, her hands finally knowing what her eyes can see; that Geralt is safe. That he’s alive.

Jaskier looks on at this display in dismayed shock, watching the fierce woman Geralt in her arms. She is petite, but she moves with surety and strength. He can see Geralt relaxing into her, and he realizes that whatever is happening here, they must be very close. Then he sees it. On her left hand is a ring, a stylized lilac flower set in amethyst and diamond winking in the light. Below it is a wedding band, plain smooth gold encircling her delicate finger. He swallows, getting a sinking feeling.

Geralt leans into her with a soft noise, a forgotten breath rushing out of him. The scent of lilac and gooseberries enfolds him, and at last, he knows he’s found home. It has been four years since he’d last had her in his arms, and as she gathers him close it hits him all in a rush.  <<Forgive me,>> he groans into her shoulder, arms coming up jerkily to wrap around her slight frame. <<Neshama shelì, please forgive me.>> His throat closes back up, a hard knot burning where his voice should be. This is who and what he’d been running from, and now that he’d been found, he felt like his world was collapsing around him all over again. Behind him, Jaskier clears his throat nervously, his back still up against the frame of the door. 

“Ah,” he starts, and the woman turns to him again, her expression murderous. 

“Back off, Skippy.” Yennefer snarls. 

Jaskier startles, wishing his back wasn’t already against something solid so that he could back away more. Every instinct in his body is telling him that this woman would eat him alive if given the chance, and he isn’t interested in finding out if that’s true.

“I’ll deal with you later,” She threatens. Then she turns, her body language softening as she looks at Geralt. “Kochany,” she says, giving him a gentle pull. “Come with me.” She gives the receptionist a pointed glance. The receptionist gives her a knowing smile in return and nods towards a room in the back. They’d talked earlier when Yennefer had come in to wait for Geralt, so none of this display was a surprise to her. She’d already given Yennefer permission to use the room if Geralt actually showed up. 

Without further ceremony Yennefer leads Geralt into the exam room, leaving Jaskier dithering in the waiting room. Nearby, an older gentleman shoots him a sympathetic glance over his magazine. Jaskier squirms nervously, then glances at the receptionist. She gestures with her thumb towards the room they are in and mouths, “Wife.” 

Jaskier curses internally, grimacing. He’s still standing in the doorway; he could leave, just get out of here before this whole shitty mess lit on fire. When he was younger, that’s precisely what he would have done; fled. There’s years of hard work between him and that flighty young man though. As he’d aged, Jaskier had come to value honesty and reliability. Being a business owner, being a teacher, had forced him to grow deeper roots. 

Besides, despite the short time he’d known him, he had become deeply fond of Geralt. Maybe even dangerously so. Certainly far more than he’d expected to on their first meeting. No matter how angry his wife had looked, Jaskier couldn’t just leave Geralt here. He’d rather face the music than abandon him. Body singing with trepidation, Jaskier pushes off of the doorjamb and finds himself a seat in the waiting room.

Meanwhile, inside the exam room Geralt sits with his elbows on his knees. He settles in and gets comfortable. Yennefer had been quiet until she’d gotten him settled gently in the chair, but then she had turned to look at him and her jaw had stiffened, her eyes flashing. At that point, a twenty-two year friendship’s worth of experience told him that he had better buckle down and get ready for the storm. Yennefer had a way of needing to holler things out when things got too big, and his discharge and subsequent disappearance was… big didn’t even begin to describe it. It was a catastrophic change in their lives. He watches as she drops the folder and begins pacing, starting to list off the many ways in which he’s upset her recently. 

His body feels distant and numb as he sits there, Yennefer’s terrified, angry tirade washing over him like water. He is swimming in re-awakened shock, the pain he’d been in on the day he’d left Fort Morhen coming roaring back to life with a vengeance. He hadn’t ever expected to see her again, much less find her here at the hospital while he was in the company of a lover. If there was a way he could crawl out of his body and just vanish to escape everything he’s feeling, he’d do it in a heartbeat. Instead he sits, elbows on his knees, hands coming up to grip the back of his neck as he floats in a haze. Foggily, he realizes she’s switched from Hebrew to Polish, his own first language, something she only yells in when she’s really upset with him. 

She shouts about how hard she had to search for him after the boxes of his things arrived. He wasn’t in Somalia, wasn’t at the army base he’d been dumped at, storage unit empty, all papers sent to his P.O. box. She’d been searching the city block by block for him, checking the morgues, checking the hospitals. No phone call. No letter. Nothing! Every now and then he tries to apologize, or explain, but every time he does so she just ups the volume, becoming more and more agitated. 

Geralt nods occasionally, eventually giving up on speaking. The scolding feels well-deserved, his pain becoming focused and raw as it is lanced by the heat of her words. And he’s handling it, he’s fine, until her voice takes on a hysterical edge and he looks up to see that there are tears running down her face. Yennefer shouts frequently, but she almost never cries, and the sight terrifies him. His heart feels like it drops to the floor and shatters at the sight of her tears, his own eyes beginning to burn.

“I don’t know what I would have done if you died, Geralt! I thought you were dead!” She weeps, voice raw with grief and fear. He reaches his arms out to her and she flies into them, settling into him for only a moment before peppering his chest and shoulders with light blows. He soaks them up without comment, accustomed to her passion, accepting it. His eyes burn harder as her tears drop onto his shirt, and soon tears are spilling down his own cheeks unbidden. 

As the first one splashes on her arm she stops, stilled by shock. She rarely cries, but Geralt weeping is unheard of. Shaken, she presses her face to his and wraps her arms fiercely around him. Their tears mingle as they begin to cry in earnest, crushing one another close in the little plastic chair. The years since they’d last touched seem to melt between them, washed away in the hot flood of tears.

Some time later their grips begin to loosen. He nuzzles into her cheek and neck damply, sniffing, and she strokes his face, wiping away the tears and smoothing some of the sadness away. Swallowing hard, he turns and presses his face into her hair, comforted immediately by the feeling of her curls against his nose and lips, sinking into the smell of lilac and gooseberry. She allows this, pressing her face into his shoulder. Eventually she heaves a shuddering sigh, sitting back and wiping mascara from under her eyes with sharp motions, clearly embarrassed to have been seen with tears on her face. 

He swallows down the lump in his throat, drinking her in as she sits there wiping her tears away. Her hair surrounds him in a cloud of soft scent. It was a smell he’d come to associate with safety, love, home. He never thought he’d get to see her again, or smell the sweetness of her hair. Grimacing, he says, “Yen… I know I should have called-” 

“Shut up,” she replies fondly, cutting him off. “Just… oh, you are such an idiot. Be quiet, I’m still too angry with you right now.” She presses kisses to his forehead, to his cheeks, to his nose, then starts wiping his face clean and dry with a handful of tissues. “I’m so angry I could just kill you, do you know that?” Flicking the tissues aside, she continues, “All I want is to know that you’re safe, mój drogi. I can’t believe you were too stupid to even call me.” She brings her hands up to cup his cheeks, looking into his eyes. “Always call me. I’ll always pick up the phone.”

“I know,” he replies thickly, taking her hands in his own as best he can. He looks down and kisses her fingers, ashamed and heartsore. “I’m a fucking idiot, I know. I’m sorry.” 

“Hush,” she snaps, but there is no real heat in it as she gazes at him, a sad smile starting to play at the corner of her full lips. “I’m the only one who gets to call you that.” She presses another kiss to his forehead, and stops as she hears a knock on the door. 

“Not now, we’ll be ready in a few minutes,” she calls, when the doctor asks if they’re ready to be seen. Then she turns back to Geralt, her expression softening further. 

“Now. Who was that you came in with?” She runs small graceful fingers across his hair, stroking it. As she does so she notes with concern how much longer than usual it already is. It’s not like Geralt to let his hair go like this, even with a hand injury. He’d kept his hair the exact same length for the entire time she’d known him. An uneasy prickle crawls over her back. 

“He’s… uh. Jaskier,” Geralt says lamely, and Yennefer is shaken from her unease by the astonishing sight of him reddening visibly when he says Jaskier’s name. She can count on one hand the number of times he’s cried, and in he only very rarely blushes. She tilts her head to the side and ponders this, taken aback. 

“Just a friend?” She asks. There is a gently teasing lilt to her question. 

Geralt is surprised by her tone of voice, and his eyes flick up briefly to hers, full of hopeful but apprehensive. “No. Maybe. I… I don’t know. It’s complicated,” he stammers, then grimaces and cuts a glance at the door. 

Yennefer’s lips quirk, and she turns him back with a finger on his chin so that she can study his face. Now this was interesting. Had he found himself a lover? 

“Has he been good to you? Are you safe?” She presses, looking into his eyes. He gives her a mutinous look and she lets him look away again, a knowing smile playing about her lips. Once she lets him go, he nods. A flicker of relief crosses her face, followed by worried curiosity. 

“Good. Is that where you’ve been this whole time? With him?” He nods again, starting to twist away from her, but she grabs his shoulders and steadies him. “Hey. No, Geralt. Of all the many things I am…” she sighs, eyeing him with fond exasperation, “absolutely furious about, you finding a man isn’t even on the list. You could work on your timing.” A smile cracks her expression, and Geralt huffs softly, a small smile of his own crinkling the corners of his eyes. “But it’s ok. It’s okay. The being with a man part is ok. I’m scared that you didn’t call me, and later you can tell me why. But for now I’m just glad you’re safe, mój drogi.” She pulls him in and kisses his forehead, squeezing him against her. “Have you been intimate?” 

“Yen.”

“I have a right to know,” she presses, cocking her head to the side and looking down at him. 

He grumbles quietly, shame churning in his stomach. Yennefer knows he prefers men in his bed and has always supported him, but he’s never stopped being afraid to talk about it. When he realizes she’s not going to relent until he answers though, he reluctantly nods his head. 

Yennefer’s stomach does a little flip. It’s not a terrible thing in and of itself, but it’s not like her deeply closeted husband to jump into bed with a stranger without fleeing immediately afterwards. Much less allow them to do something as intimate as take him to the hospital. The worry that she’s been feeling sharpens in pitch, and she takes his face in her hand, tilting it up. 

“Did he stop you from calling me?” She eyes him seriously, keeping him from looking away. 

He flickers a tired almost-smile and shakes his head. That was Yen, looking out for him whether he wanted her to or not. “No. That was all me. He didn’t know. Wouldn’t have told him even if he asked.”

She gives him a skeptical moue, but smiles when he tips his head up and fully meets her gaze. The eye contact is reassuring. “Fine,” she hums. “I believe you.” The gnawing ache that’s been in the pit of her stomach since the boxes arrived at her apartment finally begins to ease. Geralt is here, he is safe. Whatever he’d been up to with the man out in the waiting room, he seemed to be more or less in one piece. 

Then, she remembers something they’d discussed many years ago and an impish light comes into her eyes. Stroking his cheek warmly, her smile becomes a smirk. “Is he your boyfriend?” she teases ever so lightly. “Did you go and finally find yourself a boyfriend?”

Geralt grits his teeth, rolling his eyes back in his head. “Yen, I don’t want to talk about this right now.” 

She can tell by the flush creeping up his neck how embarrassed he is. Years of experience in reading him tell her that what he’s hiding is a ‘yes,’ and her smirk widens into an impish grin. “He is! Oh, Geralt, we have got to talk about your timing kochany.” She chuckles quietly, straightening the collar of his old shirt.

“He’s not my boyfriend, Yen. I barely know him,” Geralt protests, mortified. Once Yen got started, though, she was hard to stop.

“Did he stick his hands in your pants?”

“Yen…”

“Did you live in his house while he had his hands in them?”

“Yen!” he groans, appalled. She arches her eyebrow at him, waiting for him to cave. He glares at her, but it doesn’t take long for his willpower to buckle under the weight of her playful, knowing gaze. “Yes,” he admits, sighing. 

“Well then, if he hasn’t made you his boyfriend he should have, and I think I’m going to go make his life a living hell as payback,” she teases, grinning wolfishly. 

Geralt’s eyes widen in horror. “No, Yen-”

“I told you if you ever got a boyfriend I reserved the right to terrorize him a little…” she says with her eyes twinkling. “This is even better. I think I’ll go do that while you’re getting your hand looked at.” 

“Yen…” he pleads, eyes widening in dismay. “Please don’t…”

“Hey! I am your wife. I get to show newcomers who’s boss,” she replies lightly, smiling down at him as she stands. Geralt presses his lips together and glares at her, but this is an old argument. Deep down he knows that he’d already lost it over a decade ago. After a moment he shrugs, unable to summon a counter-argument strong enough to deter her. Saying ‘That’s none of your business’ to an investigative reporter was like waving a red flag in front of a bull, and he knew better by now. 

Pleased by his concession, she arches her eyebrows and gestures towards the door. “I’ll be out in the waiting room.” She pauses, fingering the strap of her purse. “We need to talk when you get out. I have a hotel room, will you come back to it with me?” 

He frowns as she asks him the question, thinking it over. In the roughly two weeks since he’s met Jaskier he has gotten accustomed to his company. Profoundly enjoyed it, to be honest. The warm solace he’d found in Jaskier’s arms had been one of the most profound things he’d ever experienced. He doesn’t want to just uproot from his house and bed. But Yennefer is his home, his safe place. It had been four years since he’d last held her, and his heart was raw with the pain of it. 

He’d been running from her because he wanted to protect her, protect his whole family from his shameful behavior and all of its fallout. In one fell swoop he’d lost his job, his ability to vote, even his right to own a firearm. It felt like he’d lost his right to fatherhood years ago, and after this last mess he felt like he’d lost the last of his remaining right to be a husband, too. 

Despite everything, Yennefer had flown across an ocean and spent weeks scouring the city trying to find him. If that wasn’t love, then nothing was. Now that she has found him he knows he can’t run anymore, no matter how badly he wants to avoid confronting his mistakes. Holding her in his arms after so many years had gotten him by the roots of his soul. He would rather be with her than anywhere else in the world. He nods cautiously. “I’ll come.”

“Good.” She strokes his cheek fondly one more time, then pulls a compact out of her purse and flicks it open. After inspecting and repairing her makeup, she says. “I’ll see you in a little moment, kochany. I won’t kill him, I promise.” Her eyes glitter with laughter as she closes it with a click and stuffs it back into her bag. “Not much, anyway.”

“Yen,” he grumbles again, but she turns on her heel and leaves, giving him no chance to argue, stepping lightly to the side as the doctor returns to check on them. 

“He’s all yours,” she says, sounding satisfied. She breezes around the bemused doctor and heads out to the waiting room, leaving the two men to their business. 

“This water tastes like plastic,” Yennefer complained, grimacing at her mug. Beside her, her companion grinned. 

“Better than tasting like having a runny ass at two AM when you’re out in the field,” he rejoined easily, flicking through a stack of photos. 

“The tea isn’t any better,” she replied, not about to be dissuaded. “It tastes like old shoes. What the bloody hell did they do to it to make it taste like old shoes?” 

“Probably from the old boot tongues we put in it for flavor,” a dry voice came from over their shoulders. Geralt leaned against the wall, eyeing the corridor outside the door impassively. Yennefer’s companion snorted and shook his head as she gave Geralt a dirty look.

“No one asked you,  Lieutenant Boot,” she groused over her shoulder. Geralt shrugged, unphased. Yennefer returned to her thick binder, taking out pages, rearranging them, making notes, placing them back in. It was late, but there was too much work to be done to sleep just yet. 

“How about you make yourself useful and bring some of that awful bloody coffee you Americans drink?” she said, after a long silence. 

“Not my job,” Geralt replied calmly, not budging an inch. She lifted her head to glare at him.

“You’re not good for anything else, I don’t see why not,” she grumbled idly, flicking a page back and forth as she compared two different sets of notes. Again, he didn’t budge.

But the next day at breakfast, when she turned away for a moment to speak to her companion, she turned back and found two boxes of apple juice at her elbow. Geralt was across the room by then, quietly getting himself another cup of coffee. Her companion nudged her and smiled, and she shifted to get a better look at the young soldier’s broad back, eyeing him speculatively. Maybe not so useless after all. 

Out in the hallway, Yennefer composes herself. Now that Geralt is safe for the moment she can focus on this new development. Right now she is more intrigued than upset by this mystery not-a-boyfriend, but bubbling underneath is a deep well of suspicion and protective anger. She’d spent a great deal of her life watching over her big idiot, and she knew he had a tendency to get entangled with people who didn’t respect his boundaries. Given that, she wants to find out what kind of man this Jaskier is. As a veteran investigative reporter she’s certain she has the skills to find out anything she wants. She adopts a cold, stormy expression of displeasure before entering the waiting room, striding up and standing over Jaskier.  

Jaskier leans back as she approaches, a look of deep worry crossing his face as she looms over him. Here we go, he thinks apprehensively, taking in her glare. This bit with the angry spouse? This was his least favorite part of being accountable for his actions. Some traitor voice in the back of his head notes wryly that at least he’s had practice, though. And good thing, too; the woman’s glare made him want to turn tail and run, and it takes a conscious will of effort to stay put.

“Yennefer Rivii.” She introduces herself with a voice like a steel knife, sticking out her hand. “Geralt’s wife.” 

Jaskier tentatively shakes it. Her skin is cool, and she has a surprisingly strong grip, confirming his earlier impression about the ease with which she could break him. Yikes. What had he gotten himself into this time?

“Come with me.” She gestures to the far corner of the waiting room, around the other side of the reception desk. There is no one over there, and there is a nook full of chairs behind the large fish tank that is buzzing and humming quietly away. A little box of children’s puzzles and books sits in the corner. They should be able to have a quiet discussion there without being overheard. 

Jaskier hesitates until she glares at him, then rises uncomfortably and allows himself to be herded to the nook. As he grimaces and ruffles the back of his head nervously, he wishes he either had better taste in men or more common sense, preferably both. He sits cautiously in the seat that she indicates, watching for any sudden movements. She sits crisply in the chair across from him, eyeing him up and down. Jaskier squirms under her silent gaze as her violet eyes rake over him, taking in his scruffy, comfortable red tank top and worn denim jean shorts. He finds himself desperately wishing he was better dressed to meet his lover’s wife. Good grief. 

“So. Who are you and what the hell have you been doing with my husband?” She inquires, her tone icy. “I haven’t heard from him in weeks, and somehow you’re involved. I damn well better get the whole story, you little tosser, or we’re going to have a problem.”

Jaskier gives her a guilty look. “Look, I-”

“Name first, please,” Yennefer cuts in crisply. “Then apologies.” 

Jaskier gulps awkwardly, taken aback. “Uh,” he dithers. His fingers dance and flicker, pulling at the hems of his shorts. “My name is Jaskier-”

“Buttercup? I don’t think so. Try again.” Yennefer interrupts him coldly, watching with pleasure as he flinches. She had learned from years of experience in her job that if you could keep them off balance, they’d tell you almost anything.

Being called on his name two times in one month was something Jaskier had never experienced before, and he didn’t like it. He grimaces, then reluctantly says, “Julian Alfred Pankratz.” He throws up his hands, exasperated, and continues. “And if you tell anyone I’m going to give you a problem right back! There are some things that just shouldn’t be said aloud and my godawful middle name is one of them.”

Yen’s lips quirk as she conceals a smile, then she narrows her eyes at him. “Fine. Now you tell me why Geralt is with you out here in east nowhere, New England.” She cocks her head. “And before you start, let me just say- I’ve been an investigative journalist for over twenty years, so believe me when I tell you I can find out if you’ve lied.” 

Leaning back into his seat, Jaskier eyes Yennefer uneasily. She glares back at him, delicate and fierce as a bird of prey. He wasn’t intending to lie in the first place; the idea of pissing this woman off any further is giving him cold sweats. This, he thinks furiously to himself, is why you ask questions before the pants come off, idiot. You know better than this, why did you do this again? His stomach flutters and spins as he watches her sitting across from him. It takes him a long moment to decide where to start.

“I ah… run a gay bar down near the docks, close to Fort Morhen,” he begins cautiously. “The Pegasus. I met your husband on Pride. The parade had just gone by and this…” he drops his face into his hands, mortified, “Absolutely gorgeous man comes walking up the street.” He moans through his fingers. “Oh lord. And so I offered him a popsicle.” 

Yennefer smirks at the top of Jaskier’s bent head, enjoying his discomfiture. As long as he is no threat to Geralt she isn’t going to terrorize him forever, but right now seeing him squirm is extremely entertaining. 

“And ah. I noticed he had hurt his hand. He seemed…” he waves his hands anxiously, trying to describe the situation clearly. “He seemed a little dazed, so I brought him into the bar and got him some water. Um. Fixed up his hand for him.” Jaskier sits back and pauses, picking his next words carefully. “The last year and a half or so has been really bad in terms of... I’ve seen a lot of soldiers struggling since Don’t Ask Don’t Tell. A lot of guys coming off of the army and navy bases with this, ugh, this really awful lost look on their faces. A lot of them don’t do very well. The army just kind of dumps them on their ass and it’s really unfair.” Jaskier has watched too many men pass through his part of town looking haunted, and then vanish. It’s unsettling to him, and it makes him unspeakably angry and sad that he has no way to help most of them. He gropes for words, trying to make Yennefer understand.

“When I see them now, I try to help. At least a little bit,” he says lamely, feeling his throat closing up on him as he looks up and sees that her glare take on a whole new heat. 

“So, what. You’re running a fuck and release program?” Yennefer asks sharply, a note of distaste entering her voice. Was he a predator? Not only was he here with Geralt when he had no business being here, but it sounded like he may have taken other soldiers home like this before. If he preyed on broken men in desperate circumstances, he was about to find out he’d bitten off a whole hell of a lot more than he could chew. 

Jaskier flinches, shaking his head as understanding flashes across his face. He hadn’t meant to imply that he’d been taking them home with him, but it clearly had sounded that way. By the look on her face she was now well on her way to hating him. He scrambles to explain, burning with embarrassment. “No, nothing like that! I don't usually take s… strange soldiers home off the street. I swear to god, he’s the only one I’ve brought home. To my house. I meant nice like… like free sandwiches at the bar. Not- Oh god,” he buries his face in his hands and groans, then takes a deep breath and tries again. “If I’m going to take someone home with me I’m usually…” he blushes, gesturing his hands illustratively, “Uh. Pretty up front. I promise that’s not what it was about.” He shoots her a desperately uncomfortable look, praying that she will understand. 

She relaxes slightly as she hears that, mollified. He looks nervous as hell, but he isn’t dropping any tells that he’s lying as far as she can see. Instead, he is giving her an earnest look, clearly frazzled by the whole conversation. “All right,” she muses. “What did you mean, then?” 

Jaskier blows out a slow breath, and worries at his lip for a second. Then he says, “He just seemed really… I’ve never seen. I’ve rarely seen a man look so devastated. So I thought, I don’t know. I’ll feed him some lunch, make sure that his miserable fucking day has a little bright spot in it. I felt like it was the least I could do.” 

Yennefer nods, settling back to listen. Her heart aches to think of Geralt lost out there alone, probably too ashamed to call home. Maybe he’d been lucky to have someone catch him before he could fall through the cracks. She studies Jaskier carefully, listening with the full weight of her attention. 

“So…” Jaskier hesitates, eyeing her nervously. Then he sighs, sensing he’d better be complete in his retelling. “When he finished eating he looked like he was about to fall off the stool. He looked like hell. I felt bad for him. I had to open soon and I thought he might get overwhelmed…” He shoots Yennefer a pleading glance, hoping what he’s about to say next doesn’t come across the wrong way. “Um. I thought it would be cruel to kick him out when he was in such a bad way, so I put him in my office instead, there’s a little…” he pinches the bridge of his nose between one hand and waves the other. “A little camp bed back there I use when I stay too late with the books.” He holds up his hands rapidly in a warding gesture as she draws back, about to say something. “I promise I’m not a predator. It wasn’t like that! Just to sleep! I swear I left him in there and he fell asleep. I figured he’d do better after a rest and then I could, I don’t know, send him on his way.”

Yennefer brings her fingers to her lips, giving him a considering look. “That doesn’t explain how he’s still with you two weeks later,” she points out. This was the part that made her the most uneasy. If Geralt ever got up the courage to be intimate with anyone, he usually fled immediately afterwards. Staying would lead to the danger of discovery, and Geralt had spent his life protecting himself and his family fiercely from the kind of attention that would bring. 

“Uhm.” Jaskier squirms, feeling put on the spot. “Well. About that. He uhm. Let me backtrack a little bit, he.” Sucking in a deep breath to quell his stammering, he closes his eyes. Something about the way the woman is looking at him makes his blood freeze, and he is having trouble thinking. Groaning, Jaskier shakes his head and tries again. 

“Okay. So, what happened is that I had to fire my bartender during the rush. It’s a long story. But I got back to my office, and he… Geralt was sitting there watching me try to find a backup on Pride, and he just… offered to help. And I was…” he spreads his hands out expressively in front of him, “I didn’t think he could do it, but he’s…”

“Surprising,” Yennefer finishes, her lips quirking into the slightest of smiles. “Yes. He is. He’s quite the master cocktail maker.” She allows the smile to widen slightly, examining her nails. “I suppose at least something came out of all the time he spent glued to those damn mixology manuals. It’s something of a special interest of his.” Her eyes twinkle. Glued was an understatement. Geralt had a growing collection of the manuals, and had memorized the measures in every one of them.  “He makes a mean Metropolitan.” She comments, flicking her gaze back up. “Continue.”

“He does,” Jaskier says weakly, feeling rather like she’s looking right through him. “Uhm. I was a little at loose ends and I thought… why the hell not.” He flings his hands up. “The worst that was going to happen was getting shut down, and that was already a possibility anyway after the fuck up from the man I fired, so I just… ah, sent him to it. Stuck him behind the bar with my bar back and let him at it.”

Another secretive little smile flickers around Yennefer’s lips. “How did he do?” She inquires. 

“He was… amazing.” Jaskier shakes his head and gives a breathless little chuckle. “Ah, he had a little trouble at first, but I never had to step off the door to get involved. And by the end of the night he had his sea legs under him,” he breaks off, waving off the poor phrasing, realizing he is speaking to an Army wife, “So to speak, and uh.” He laughs. “He got quite a few tips. I was impressed.”

Yennefer smirks, looking obscurely pleased by this. “Still doesn’t explain why you’re here now,” she presses. 

“Um, no. You’re right, it doesn’t. So.” Jaskier scrubs his face again, feeling his whole body surge with nerves. “So. After the other employees left, he’s still sitting there in my bar, and I realize he probably doesn’t have a safe place to go for the night. A lot of the soldiers who end up homeless around here they… that’s how it started. Getting kicked off base and having no place to go. And he’d just done me a good turn. So. Um.” 

"So you took him home and did him a good turn?" She replies dryly, her voice still pitched under the hum of the aquarium so that the other occupants of the waiting room can’t hear them.

"Oh! God, no. I have a private loft above my house. Got it's own key and everything! I promise it wasn't like that. I mean. Oh god. He's beautiful please don't misunderstand me but-" Jaskier babbles, caught off guard. Of all the impressions he would have hoped to make on a lover’s family, this is not it. He’d hoped that the next family he met would be at a nice little brunch or something pleasant, not another round of dealing with an angry spouse.

"Stop!" She cuts him off with a curt gesture. "Stop babbling. Get to the point."

Frazzled, Jaskier grimaces and nods, gathering his wits. "Right. Point was. I took him home and sent him up to the loft. By himself! And um. I have plenty of space in my house. So I just thought I'd let him stay until he got his legs under him. I liked him, please don’t misunderstand me, but I wasn’t.” He knuckles his eyebrows, grimacing, trying to keep his thoughts gathered. “It wasn’t about trying to get laid. It really wasn’t. And he um. He broke his hand. So that's how we got to the hospital." He trails off, his voice abandoning him under the heat of Yennefer's gaze. His throat bobs visibly as he swallows. 

"I see." She says, icily. "And he's just… what, stayed in the attic these last few weeks?"  

Her violet gaze pierces Jaskier, making him feel like he is being dissected. "Well, no-" he squirms uncomfortably. 

"Explain." She says, cutting him off again. 

"Oh, god. Um. Do I really need to-"

"I have friends who can help me hide the body. Please try me." 

“All right,” he grimaces, feeling a rush of shame and discomfort. “I’m sorry, all right, um. Can I just say that I am very stupid and very sorry, before I tell you the rest of this story?” A brief huff escapes Yennefer, and he can’t quite tell if she’s amused or if she’s angry. 

She shakes her head at him and gestures for him to keep talking. Internally, she’s torn between being alarmed and being amused. The more she watches this man, listens to him, absorbs his body language and tics, the less she worries that he is lying to her or hurting Geralt. He is like a big awkward colt, all long limbs, nervy movements, and honest terror at her presence. This sounded more and more like a horny idiot story about to happen. She suppresses a smile, watching as he squirms.  

“All right. So. Oh god. So the next night after I helped him empty out his storage unit, I cooked him dinner. And maybe I had a little too much wine while I was making it. Um. And he’s really… oh god. I mean, you know, you married him. He’s really charming.” 

Yennefer watches coolly as Jaskier vibrates with nerves, trying to keep his voice steady. Internally though, she smirks. Called it. 

“I walked him to the door so that he could go back to the loft. He. Ugh,” he stops and scrubs his face again, missing her growing expression of pleasure at his embarrassment. His stomach aches and rolls mercilessly, but he forges onward. Better to get it all out in the open now, rather than force her to drag it out of him. He gets the strong sense she will happily do so if he makes her. 

“I think I kissed him first. I don’t know. We kissed. Things snowballed. We had sex… oh god. Clearly I should have asked more questions first. Um. I’m really sorry I didn’t ask more questions first-”

Yennefer puts up her hand. “Stop.” She commands, then goes quiet, eyeing Jaskier up and down. “Is there anything else you’d like to tell me?” Aside from the initial upset at the beginning of the conversation, nothing he’d said had particularly alarmed her. Bit by bit, she begins to relax. Had Geralt really just found a nice man?

Jaskier blushes. “I offered him a job as a bartender. He um. He’s still thinking about it,” he mumbles. It’s only now as he says it in front of Yennefer that he realizes how it might sound.

“Excuse me, you did what?” Yen says, sitting forward. “You… slept with my husband, and then offered him a job? Do you know how insanely unethical that is?” She feels a rush of exasperation. Trust Geralt to end up neck deep in some kind of lunacy the second his life got turned upside down. He could have come home to his family, but no, that would have been too easy. 

She studies Jaskier again, watching how he deflates visibly under her gaze. Jaskier being in control of Geralt’s food, shelter, and income sounded like a recipe for disaster, but the more that she had watched Jaskier, the less she worried he had done any of it as a conscious manipulation. He came across as a genuinely sweet person, a kind heart with no brain whatsoever attached to it. 

“I hadn’t thought about it too deeply, if I’m going to be perfectly honest,” Jaskier says through his fingers to the floor. 

She can see by the tips of his ears that he is deep red with embarrassment. There it is, she thinks, exasperation deepening into a long-suffering chagrin. While Geralt himself was quite stable if left to his own devices, he had a tendency to let other people get him involved in more chaos than he was prepared to handle.

“I… He. I think I get a little stupid around him. Um. I’m really sorry.” Jaskier mumbles, internally kicking himself. Now that she’d said it he could see it, but he honestly hadn’t even thought about the ethics of the offer. He’d just seen a nice thing he could do for someone who could use a leg up and gone for it. While he’d never abuse the power he had over his employees, he could see why Yennefer was upset with him.

“Clearly,” she says wryly, leaning back into her chair and sizing him up. Turning the story back and forth in her mind, she examines him minutely. 

“Well, you don’t seem very bright, but I don’t think you’re a predator.” She says, tilting her head and regarding him with sharp curiosity. If he really was just a kind idiot, then he might be around in her life for a while longer. Geralt had always needed someone, and she’d known from day one that the kind of love they had wasn’t going to be enough for him. “We’re going to have to talk later, you and I.” She glances briefly over her shoulder at Geralt’s exam room door. “I’m going to be taking Geralt back to my hotel room tonight. And tomorrow? You and I are going to sort some things out.” 

Jaskier nods, stomach rolling as he glances up at her. What did she mean, sort things out? That didn’t sound hopeful. Most likely, it meant that they’d be coming to take Geralt’s things and he’d never see him again. The idea makes his heart ache, and he wraps his arms around himself uncomfortably. He didn’t want it to be over yet. 

She looks coolly at him. He looks miserable, and as far as she is concerned, he deserves it. He might have been trying to be kind to Geralt, but what he’d actually done was set her husband up for a lot of potential heartbreak and she wanted him to stew on that a little bit. There would be time later to set him at his ease, but for now, she felt fairly pleased by how the whole conversation had gone.  As she hears Geralt quietly approach, she stands. Geralt comes to a halt when he sees both of them looking at him, and he gives them a deeply worried look. 

“Kochany.” Yennefer greets, reaching up to squeeze his shoulder warmly. “I’ve met your idiot now.”

“Yen…” Geralt groans, mortified. “His name is Jaskier.”

“No, it isn’t, but we’ll waive that point,” she says with the slightest lilt of amusement. “How is your hand?” Geralt lifts it and flexes it gingerly, showing them both that the splint is off. 

“Should be fine if I don’t punch anything else,” he rumbles uneasily, still eyeing the two of them. “Take a few more weeks to heal the rest of the way but the splint is off.” 

“Well then!” Yennefer says brightly. “Don’t punch anything else, or you might not be able to take your idiot up on his job offer.” Geralt rolls his eyes up towards the ceiling as if he is praying for strength, and she gives his arm a little squeeze.  

“Jaskier.” She says, turning her gaze back to him, curled around himself near the fishtank. “’I’ll be seeing you tomorrow.” Gently but firmly, she takes Geralt by the elbow and gives him a light nudge. Geralt puffs uncomfortably, looking torn as he gazes down at her then over at his lover, who is still beet red. 

“Jaskier-” he starts, but Jaskier cuts him off by raising a hand. 

“Not now, Geralt,” he sighs. “Just. I’ll talk to you soon. I need to go home right now. Have a good day with your wife.” He drops his head back into his hands and scrubs at his face one last time, trying to gather himself. Geralt gives Yen a frustrated look. She smiles back at him, unphased. Geralt might be free to choose his lovers, but as far as she was concerned, she was equally free to harass them a little on the first meeting. As a treat. 

Geralt hesitates. As much as he wants to reconnect with Yen, he doesn’t want to leave Jaskier alone like this. He is angry with Yen for embarrassing his very nice if somewhat thoughtless lover so thoroughly, but he can see by the look on Jaskier’s face that now is not the time to deal with it. “I’m sorry... “ he says quietly, fiddling with the folder he is holding. “Um. Tomorrow, right.”

“Right then. See you tomorrow.” she says pleasantly, then turns and gently walks with Geralt out of the waiting room. Geralt shoots one last shameful look over his shoulder at Jaskier hunched in the corner, before allowing himself to be guided out of the door by a soft hand at his elbow. 

They made their way up a dirty, crowded street. In the distance was someone singing on a corner, and nearer, a bustling market swarmed with people dressed for the desert heat. Yennefer weaved her way through the crowd with a determined look on her face, holding her bag strap firmly against her shoulder. Beside her was her companion. He was a big, lithe man with a dark beard which concealed terrible pockmarked scarring. He was wearing fatigues, and over his shoulder he carried a large black bag. Right behind them was Geralt, also dressed in fatigues. His serious golden eyes scanned the street continually, his posture stiff and alert. 

As they entered the market, the bustle and roar of the people closed over them. Geralt moved closer to Yennefer, getting up near her side and body blocking a man who got too close as they weaved among the stalls. She glanced briefly up at Geralt, lips thinning, then ducked into an alleyway off of the main thoroughfare. It was quieter here, and there were a few children playing some sort of ball game nearby. Stopping in front of a wooden door in the clay face of the building before them, she adjusted the bag on her shoulder and neatened her head scarf before rapping on it. 

The door opened, and she stepped down into the little room, flashing a brilliant smile and greeting a tired-looking older man. He gestured them inside, but hesitated when he saw Geralt. Geralt eyed him back seriously, then looked around the little room, scanning for danger and seeing none. Yennefer lifted her head. 

<<He doesn’t have to be in here, but my camera man stays,>> she said, already pulling her notepad out of her bag. She jerked her chin at the door and Geralt nodded. His gaze returned to the older man and he eyed him fiercely for a moment, then stepped back into the doorway and assumed a guarding position. The older man hesitated again, then nodded, conceding the arrangement, and retreated into the relative cool of the dark clay room.

As Yennefer’s companion arranged his equipment, Geralt settled into a watchful silence in the doorway. The main part of his attention was on the room around Yennefer, scanning for dangerous interruptions. The other part was on the street, carefully tracking the sounds of the people bustling at the head of the alley and the children scrapping over the ball. 

As the interview was wrapping up, Geralt’s head suddenly snapped up as the ball flew past him out towards the head of the alley. A young boy followed it at breakneck pace, laughing so hard it sounded like he was about to be sick. He careened into the crowd, retrieved the ball deftly, and heaved it back into the alley. Geralt ducked out of the way as the ball whistled past him, meeting the little boy’s sudden look of worry with a genial wink. The boy flashed a smile and zipped back the other way, returning to the seething pack of children at the back of the alley.

A moment later, as Yennefer and her companion were exiting the building, the ball flew past once more. The same child shot after it, ducking and weaving amongst the crowd as he attempted to retrieve it. He lost his balance, bounced off of one man, and landed at the feet of another, who kicked him absentmindedly out of the way. 

The child cried out in pain, twisting in the middle of the street, landing himself under yet another man’s feet as he attempted to dodge away from the blow. This man stepped back from the child as if his ankles had been burned, and he shouted at the child, berating him. Geralt stiffened, eyes narrowing. The older man who Yennefer had interviewed closed the door behind her and her companion firmly, leaving them in an uncertain knot in the alley.

Out in the street, the man had begun kicking the child, shouting imprecations and curses as his foot struck over and over again. As he reached down to grab the little boy’s hair and pull him up, Geralt broke from his position and dodged forward into the street.

“Hey!” He shouted, his deep voice startling against the backdrop of relative quiet in the alley. <<Stop!>> The man ignored him, tightening his grip viciously in the boy’s hair and beginning to beat him about the head and shoulders with the flat of his hand. The boy began to scream in terror and pain, kicking and struggling, tears leaking from his eyes. Geralt closed in rapidly, looming over the smaller and much older man gripping the boy’s head. In the background, Yennefer and her companion tensed, but as she made to follow Geralt into the street, her companion blocked her and shook his head. 

<<Hey! Asshole!>> Geralt snapped, eyes flashing. The other man’s grey head came up and he met Geralt’s gaze, eyes dark with anger, tightening his grip on the boy’s hair. 

<<Hey asshole yourself!>> he snarled, shaking the sobbing child. <<This little shit has been getting underfoot for weeks. This is none of your business! Back off!>>

<<Touch him again and I’ll make it my business, you motherfucking son of a bitch!>> Geralt barked, leaning in closer. The grey-haired man’s beard wobbled as he puffed and glared at Geralt, but he was also slowly beginning to shrink back in on himself as Geralt squared up on him, a look of mounting fury in his golden eyes. Geralt stepped into his body space, carefully maneuvering himself so that, as the man’s hand began to loosen, he was putting himself between him and the weeping child still squirming to get away. 

As Geralt closed the distance between them, the boy finally twisted loose. Geralt immediately swept him up behind his back, now firmly between him and the angry, sputtering man. 

<<Fuck off!>> Geralt snarled, holding the boy’s head against his leg as little hands fisted his fatigues, feeling him tremble like a little bird. The other man stepped back, startled by the heat in Geralt’s voice. 

<<I… you... !>> he sputtered back at Geralt, at a loss for words. Geralt bared his teeth and made as if to lunge towards the man, and the man jumped back. 

<<Fuck you!>> he cried, finally backing away. Then he turned his venomous gaze to the little boy. <<If I ever catch you around here ag->>

<<One more goddamn word and I”ll kick your motherfucking ass!>> Geralt roared back, cutting him off. <<If you fucking touch him another goddamn time you’re going to have one hell of a headache, motherfucker, just try me!>> The little boy shrank against his leg, frightened by the shouting, and Geralt tightened the pressure of his hand on him just slightly, trying to reassure him. 

The man gave one more angry sputter, shook his finger at Geralt, then backed away into the crowd, tossing his hands into the air in a final gesture of displeasure as he went. Around them, the market bustled on, mostly uninterrupted by the shouting match. Aside from giving the little scene enough berth to stay out of range, the passersby seem to be carefully ignoring the whole incident. 

As he watched the man vanish into the crowd, Geralt’s body hummed with angry tension. He didn’t relax until he saw the grey head vanish around a corner. When he was sure that he was gone, he turned his attention to the rest of the street, scanning it until he was reassured that the passerby were not a threat. Then and only then did he turn his full attention to the child clinging to his leg. 

Gently, gently, as softly as if he was handling a little bird, he pried the child’s fingers off of the leg of his fatigues. Then he led him into a safe place near the mouth of the alley and knelt down, making himself small. His eyes softened as he knelt, and he made reassuring noises as he looked the child over, inspecting him for serious injury. The child was scraped and bruised, streaked with tears and trembling as he gulped back little sobs, but he was otherwise unharmed. 

Nearby in the alleyway, Yennefer watched curiously as Geralt began to chat quietly with the young child, who couldn’t have been more than six. He was easy with the little one in a way she rarely saw people be with children. He was more relaxed with the child than she'd ever seen him be with any adult, either. His face was calm and kind, and lit up with delight a moment later as the boy said something that made him laugh. 

She’d never seen him look this soft before, his manner totally transformed by his proximity to the child. She nibbled the inside of her lip speculatively, re-evaluating her opinion of the lieutenant yet again. He might come across as stupid, stiff, and arrogant, but there were clearly hidden depths she hadn’t given him credit for. She turned to her companion.

“What do you think, Coën?” She asked, leaning against the side of the building. 

“I think you should ask him out for a drink, Yenna.” Coën replied with a big grin, teasing. “He’s good company. You’d be surprised.”

“Oh, what, you get drunk with the idiot once and now you’re bonded?”

“Yup. That’s how it works,” Coën’s green eyes were merry as he eyed his partner, who had her arms crossed doubtfully. “He’s a funny little fucker.” 

“I somehow doubt that,” Yennefer said, but she turned her thoughtful gaze back to Geralt. By now he had retrieved the child’s ball from the market stall where it had finally come to rest and was handing it back to him, along with a little piece of fruit he’d purchased from the stall’s owner. 

“Your loss,” Coën said with a shrug, adjusting the big bag on his shoulder. He raised his camera and took a few discreet shots of Geralt and the child, smiling to himself. Then, he cocked his head at her.

“Ready to head back?” She nodded, eyes still on Geralt’s back. Falling into step, they slowly approach the mouth of the alleyway. The child scrambled off with the ball as they approached, his cheeks bulging with fruit, and Geralt straightened back to his full height. Coën clapped him on the shoulder genially, smiling, and Geralt gave a soft, awkward smile in return. Together, they all turned to the market and merged into the crowd, heading back the way they came.

Geralt is curled along the length of her black-clad leg, face pressed into her hip as she idly strokes his short hair. His breathing is finally easing back into a slow, steady cadence as he rests his head on her. She is leaning back against the headboard of a hotel bed, pillows arranged comfortably under her back, a glass tumbler of brandy in her other hand. Her own heart is beginning to slow, and the alcohol helps soothe the ragged edges of frustration and sadness that she is feeling.

The air conditioning unit rattles and hums in the corner, keeping the crisp looking hotel room cool even in the soggy summer heat. It’s a small blessing in an otherwise raw and painful day. The sunlight peeking through the curtains has mellowed, taking on the penetrating gold of an early summer evening. They've been there for hours, trying to talk and getting nowhere, and now they are in another lull. Her fingers run firmly along the backs of his ears, along his neck, over his forehead, slowly but surely soothing away some of his stress. It’s good to have him back, but it frightens her deeply that he is being so reticent. She’s used to him being taciturn, but this is a whole new level of lock-out. 

For his part, he hates how she has been needling him to talk about what happened to him. The things she has been asking him to divulge are so painful that they feel like they burn to touch, sear when he tries to speak, so he’s been fighting to escape her attempts to dig at them. But on some level, he knows she’s right to pry. She has a right to know. He is finally accustoming himself to the idea that he can’t run from her or this conversation any longer. 

Taking a sip from her tumbler, she says, “Are you ready to talk now?” Against her leg, he nods, reaching up to tangle his fingers delicately amongst the soft curls spilling over her shoulder. He rubs them between his fingers, watching them spring back as he releases them. The feeling of them running through his hand is like coming home. 

She may be many things, but most importantly, she has always been his safe harbor and closest ally. Always steadily at his back in a world where few people have cared for him. He is still angry about how sad and frazzled Jaskier looked, and he finds himself missing the sweetness of the other man’s presence. But despite that, he suspects that he is right where he should be. Now that he can’t run anymore, despite his shame and fear, he finds that he is deeply grateful to sink into her love. 

“All right, kochany.” Her finger rubs up the back of his ear, running along the delicate shell of it firmly, just so. His eyelashes flutter against his cheeks as he heaves a deep sigh. For the first time since he was arrested the feeling of being in free-fall is easing, and he is reluctant to break the peace of it. He knows that he has to, though. Steeling himself against the ugliness of his feelings, he clears his throat.

“What do you want to know?” he murmurs into her hip reluctantly. She smiles down at him, eyes sad and soft. 

“What do you think I want to know, moj drogì?" She rejoins gently, pressing her hand against the side of his head, holding him close. Words are hard for him, she knows, but if there was ever a time to pry it is now. She takes another sip of brandy and eyes him, her expression kind. He turns and buries his face in her leg.

“I don’t want to talk about that.”

“You promised.”

He heaves a heavy sigh into the soft, exquisitely tailored leg of her pants and nods. “I did,” he admits unhappily. 

“It worries me that you won’t even tell me who it was, mój drogi. You didn’t get a dishonorable discharge all by yourself. I asked some rather pointed questions when the Army couldn't tell me where you were.” She tilts her head, more curls spilling over her shoulder which he reaches for. The corner of her lip curves up in a melancholy smile as she watches him play with them. Her anger had been spent some hours ago, and now she is able to be patient, holding a gentle space for her husband to find his words. After almost twenty-two years of knowing him, she knows they are slow to come when he speaks on difficult feelings, if indeed they come at all. 

“It wasn’t his fault,” Geralt repeats quietly, burning with shame. “I should have stopped him.”

“You’ve said already. I’ll ask you again. Whoever this mystery idiot was, did he start it?” 

Geralt groans. “That’s not the point. The point is, I knew better and I shouldn’t-”

“Stop. We’ve been around this circle all afternoon. I have the time, I’m not letting you go until you tell me the rest, kochany.” 

He sinks back into silence. Anyone else might think he was sulking, but Yennefer knows that he is struggling uphill inside, trying to force words through a mouth that just does not want to move. She swirls her fingers along his scalp again, white hairs tickling under her fingertips. He leans into the good feeling, using it to help bring him back to himself. Inside of him the untold story burns like hot lead in his chest and throat, searing away at his insides. 

Eventually he says, “We had just gotten out of the field.”

“The field? Since when have you been getting out of the office?”

“I hate the office.”

“I know, but that’s not the point. The point is, you trapped yourself into one by being too competent to avoid that damn promotion,” she teases gently, finally getting a pained little smile out of him. 

“True. But…” he shrugs uncomfortably. “I guess that’s why they sent me back out into the field. I’m good at my job. Uh. Was good.” He frowns, turning his face into her leg, feeling a rush of guilt and anger. 

“It’s ok, kochany. I know. So, what. You went out into the field, got shot at…?”

He nods, turning up to see her. He drops his hand to rest on her stomach, idly beginning to play with the white silk of her shirt. “Yeah,” he says, voice rough. “Almost died. He almost died. We… it was stupid. We got back to base and it…” he heaves a sigh. “I don’t know. I felt so numb that I just wanted to feel something. And he always pushes, and I just… let him. This time I just let him.” Even talking about it burns. He feels like the air is slowly being eaten out of his lungs as he speaks, and his fingers tighten on her shirt as if it could somehow protect him.

Her lips thin, and she nods. “There’s only one person I know who you talk about like that, kochany. Was it…”

“Eskel,” he mumbles into her hip, nodding. “Yes. It was Eskel.”

“That barmy prick,” she says, her quiet voice full of an old anger. “I told you if you kept on with him something like this was going to happen.” Her face is carefully neutral, but he knows if he looks up, he will be able to see the angry flash in her eyes. 

“I know, Yen,” he mumbles into her leg, feeling a hot rush of embarrassment twist his already aching heart. “It was stupid. It's always been stupid, but I just… I needed to feel something. It's always been like that with him." Shame creeps up after the embarrassment, an old and constant companion. He rubs his thumb on the button of her shirt, focusing intently on it, trying to stay present. 

“Bet you felt something when you were being court martialed, idiot,” she points out, irritation sharpening her voice. He flinches, but nods, the shame deepening into a hot, quiet pain. She presses her lips together as she sees the expression which crosses his face, fingernail tapping on her glass. She takes another sip, then smoothes her hand out across his hair again. 

“I’m sorry, kochany. I’m angry. I shouldn’t have said it quite like that,” she apologizes, realizing that humiliating him isn’t going to help him talk to her right now. Her own stomach twists with guilt as she gazes down at him. Normally he doesn’t mind her sharp tongue, but she’s known him long enough to know that there’s a time and a place, and this just isn’t it. He grumbles something indistinct into her leg, but by the cadence of it, she can tell it isn’t meant to be heard. 

“So at least now I know who to bury,” she says mildly, a little smile playing about her lips. “What happened then? You must have been very ashamed.” He nods, tentatively reaching up for her curls again, seeking an anchor. She tips her head, allowing him easy access to them. While he gathers his voice he fingers them softly, reveling in the soft texture and sweet smell of lilac and gooseberry. The sensations help orient him as he navigates the storm of feelings that he is experiencing, groping for the words to explain something unspeakably painful.

“I just… I knew I couldn’t come home,” he explains, his voice rough with misery. “They dumped me at Fort Morhen with that fucking truck and whatever I could fit into my backpack. The rest of my shit got shipped back to England.” She can see the tip of one of his ears from where she is sitting, and she runs her finger gently over it, trying to soothe away some of his shame. 

“I know, kochany. I almost had a heart attack when it showed up on our doorstep. Why did you think you couldn’t come home? You know I’ll always take you no matter what. You’re safe with us.”

He shakes his head vehemently, face closing up. He pulls away from her abruptly and sits up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and putting his back to her. She eyes his back, then, without comment, stands and walks around to the little counter near the mini fridge. This is an old dance, and she has the time to do the steps today. She can see he needs a moment, so she finds a way to give him one. Quietly, she pours him his own glass of brandy and brings it back to him, pressing it into his hands without forcing eye contact. When he takes it, she strokes his shoulder lightly before returning to her nest of pillows.

He turns the glass tumbler back and forth in his hands, watching the light play through the dark amber liquid. The questions make him feel an irrational surge of anger, and he allows himself to quietly seethe for a moment. Then, as quickly as it came, the anger fades, washing back to leave a deepening shame in its place. He takes a huge swallow of the brandy, shakes his head, and says, “I’ve never been any good for you three. At least I used to be stable. But I couldn’t bring myself home just to be a wreck. It wouldn’t be fair.” he shrugs. “Besides, the way I was discharged? Cirilla doesn’t need to know I’m…” He trails off into choking silence, his throat closing, and he shrugs painfully.

Yennefer’s heart sinks. This isn’t the first time she’s heard Geralt talk like this, and she has a good guess about what the end of that choked off sentence was. “Oh, love. Are you worried about what she’ll think if she finds out that you’re gay?” Yennefer asks gently. If she hasn’t missed her guess she knows the answer, but she presses him anyway, trying to get him to finally talk about it. He’s spent years refusing to fully engage, and she is secretly hoping that at least now he will begin to process his feelings about himself. That way at least something good could come out of this awful mess.

He shrugs angrily, glaring at his brandy. “I don’t want to talk about that, Yen.”

“You brought it up-”

“Stop!” He barks, glaring over his shoulder at her. She stares back at him coolly, not about to be deterred this time. 

“You can say the word ‘gay,’ Geralt.” She presses on, holding his gaze. “There’s no one here but me, and I’ve known for a long time. The least you can do is be honest with yourself. Or if not yourself, with me. We’ve been through hell together, we have a daughter together… It’s about time we talked about it for real.” 

Geralt scowls at her stiffly, his expression getting flatter by the second. “Don’t make me talk about this.” He says, turning away from her and squaring his shoulders against any further intrusions on the subject. Exasperated, Yennefer rolls her eyes, then presses her drink glass between her hands, using the cool heaviness of it to keep her calm.  

“Oh for the love of- Geralt. Kochany. I was there helping you find call boys to bang! Who are you trying to fool, here?" She nudges him lightly with her foot, determined to press. "Have you fucked any women since me?”

“Have you fucked any men?" He growls back, cutting her another sharp look over his shoulder.

"No, but I haven't fucked much of anyone since you. You know that. You're avoiding the question."

He shrugs, mutely. His shameful silence is answer enough. 

“Twelve years without a woman, Geralt…” She heaves a heavy sigh, then swallows back the last of her own brandy before continuing. “If there’s one blessing to come out of this bloody mess, it’s that you have no career to protect any more. The cat is out of the bag. You can at least say it in private, with the person who knows you best.” She nudges his back gently again with her bare foot. “Besides, who do you take me for? You think I raised our daughter to hate people like you? Do you really think I would do that?”

As his shoulders slowly droop, she sets her glass aside and comes to sit behind him, wrapping her arms around his thick waist and pressing her cheek to his back. “I’ve never been ashamed of you, mój drogi. The way you are has never been wrong to me. And I’ve never regretted the life we’ve shared.” She kisses softly at the back of his neck, her breath tickling his hair. “You are better than you give yourself credit for.”

His already stiff body tenses further and he idly pulls away from her, but doesn’t fight it when she keeps her arms wrapped around him. Her gentle words make his heart plunge, and he shakes his head. The love feels so good, but so misplaced, and he can barely stand to experience it. It feels like it doesn’t belong to him. Every fiber of his being wants to push it away, to keep his family from all of the ugliness boiling inside of him.

“Yen… stop. I’m not a good father. All I do is hurt Ciri. I can’t make her happy… Besides… She shouldn’t have to have a father she can’t talk about in public.” He pauses, the muscles in his jaw working as he gropes painfully for his next words. “And… She has you, and she has Coën. Fuck, Yen! He's been a better father to her than I could ever fucking be. He’s been there with you raising her, not me. Just tell her I fucking died. It would be better.” The words spill out of him like hot acid, leaving him feeling like he’s vomited fire in their wake. He’s heard them repeated in his own head so many times, but they feel new and awful all over again as he feels her stiffen behind him. 

“Geralt!” Yennefer snaps, shocked. She can feel her heart beginning to race with fear as she realizes exactly how deeply his poor self esteem has plunged since they last spoke in person. “You take that back right now! Our child is very proud of you, and rightly so!” Gently, she gives him a little shake, trying to rattle some love into his stiff body. 

“Besides, I would never, ever lie to her like that. I know you’ve struggled with her, kochany. But you’ve never given yourself the time to learn what Ciri needs from you.” She squeezes him, pressing her hands across his heart, seeking to ease even a little of his pain. “She doesn’t need you dead, Geralt. She needs you to give yourself a chance to try.” She nuzzles into the back of his shoulder, keeping him ferociously close.

“Besides,” she murmurs quietly against the back of his ear with a wry smile, “Coën would kill you if you died. You promised you would step up when you retired, kochany. You know he’s going to hold you to that.” 

He grumbles quietly, heart feeling like it is burnt to ashes, but he allows her to begin to rock him. Sensing the enormous pain he’s in, she seeks to soothe it by easing him into his natural rhythm. She feels the sudden release of tension when she hits the right cadence and his own motion takes over. They sway softly together, there on the edge of the hotel bed, Yennefer's cheek pressed to his shoulder where she can hear the beat of his heart. The rocking motion is as much part of him as his breath, and she has learned long ago to help him find it in times of deep distress. 

After a while he slows, then stills. His body is relaxed now, breathing and heart rate steady and slow. The pain is still gnawing the inside of him to pieces, but he feels more himself than he has in weeks. He sets his glass aside on the bedside table and brings his hands up to cover hers, cradling them against his chest, grateful for the care she is taking. His throat burns hotter as he sits with her cool hands cradling him, his eyes beginning to water as he tries to process the sheer amount of agony he’d been hiding from himself. She feels a wet drop on her hand and her head comes up, eyes widening. Then she squeezes him mutely closer, rubbing her cheek against his shoulder. 

“I don’t know how to do any of this, Yen. I don’t know what to do. I couldn’t call you because I didn’t know what to do,” he says thickly. “I’m just… I shouldn’t be here. There’s nowhere I fit, and I don’t want to drag you three down with me, neshama shelì. You deserve better than that.”

Her heart twists inside of her as she listens to him, her hold around him becoming fierce. Her small frame is wiry, containing considerable strength, and she uses all of it to crush him against her. She brings her head up and brushes her lips against the soft skin behind his ear, loving him, wanting to be certain that he hears her.

“You belong right here, Geralt Rivii,” she murmurs ferociously. “I’m never going to let you forget that, no matter how hard you try.” Her heart hammers and she feels nauseous. She knew he was depressed, but this is a whole new level that she’s never seen him sink to before, and she is deeply worried about his safety. 

He shakes his head, wetness dripping down his cheeks. His burning throat squeezes shut and he can’t get any more words out, so he just leans into the ferocity of her embrace without speaking. Her head whirls as she presses herself against him, searching for the right words to say. Geralt has been a constant in her life for over two decades, and the idea that she might lose him to this is unbearable. She begins to rock him again, and this time he moves with her almost right away, his body taut with misery as they sway. 

As he stills again some time later, her delicate fingers come up to wipe the tears from his face and smooth his cheeks, stroke his hair, worried. She covers him with affection and he leans into her hands needfully, soaking up the gentleness like a sponge. 

After a long silence in which her hands work to soothe him, her mind churning, she comes to a conclusion. Geralt’s depression is something she feels out of her depth to deal with all in one go. She will have to circle back around to it after more thought, so she changes the subject. 

“Tell me about Jaskier, kochany.” She prompts, smiling into his shoulder as he gulps and gives a soft painful chuckle, lowering his face into his hands. 

“Oh, I don’t even know where the fuck to start with him,” he says damply into his fingers, wiping the remaining tears from his face. His stomach flips to even talk about Jaskier, to hear his name on her lips. Shame and gnawing fear and deep desire all tangle together as he remembers blue eyes and soft hands and kindness. “I’m so fucking confused, neshama shelì. I’ve never met anyone like him before.” 

She laughs at this, leaning back as he shifts to lean back against the headboard of the bed, stealing some pillows from her nest. Graciously choosing not to mention anything, she brings the rest of them along, arranging them so that she is supported while she lies along his side and places her head over his heart. He wraps his arms around her lightly and brings one hand up to start stroking her hair again, delicately working a tangle out when it snares around his finger. He is obscurely relieved to change the subject, but he isn’t honestly sure that he likes this one much better. 

“So tell me how you met, that’s a good place to start. He mentioned that you were dazed when he first met you, what happened?” Yennefer prompts. She has concerns about Jaskier’s grasp of boundaries, but at the same time she can see that Geralt is very fond of him. She hopes talking about him will help lift his mood. 

Geralt grimaces, then shrugs and nods, deciding to be forthcoming for once in his life. “I was… upset when I left the base. And that damn truck overheats in the summer, so I had to run the heater at full blast to try and keep it from shutting down on the middle of the highway.” His big hand runs over her head, and he presses his nose into her hair softly. He takes a deep inhale, eyes fluttering closed as he sinks into the peace of the smell. After a moment, he continues, his deep voice rumbling under her ear.

“The highway was a parking lot all the way from the base to the city. I didn’t realize it at the time, but the uh… Pride march thing had blocked traffic for fucking miles. It must have been over a hundred in the direct sun, and I didn’t have enough water. By the time I got off the fucking highway, I’d been out there for more than two hours and I was starting to get heat exhaustion.” He presses a kiss to the top of her head, thinking back on the day, a little furrow appearing between his brows. 

“I was… It was too much, I got overwhelmed. I was feeling too fucking much. So when the truck broke down, I just… I lost my shit. Beat the fuck out of the tree I parked next to, fucked up my hand. I was so fucking angry.” 

“I know you know better than to punch trees when you’re mad, Geralt.” Yennefer points out, drawing a soft circle on his chest around the buttons of his white shirt. “Were you having a meltdown?”

Hearing this, Geralt’s face goes blank and hard. He cuts Yen an angry look. “No.” He replies flatly. “I just lost my shit.” Yennefer had a nasty habit of trying to draw parallels between him and his daughter’s difficulties, and he wasn’t having any of it. 

Internally, Yen finds herself biting her tongue. This was another thing he didn’t like talking about, and now wasn’t the time to argue with him about it. She heaves a quiet sigh, for once letting it go by. “So what happened next?”

He eyes her for a long moment, making sure that she’s not going to argue with him before he continues. Then he relaxes minutely, deciding to continue telling his story. “I stumbled into the Pride parade,” he reluctantly reveals, uncomfortable. “And had a fucking episode. Totally blanked out.”

“Again? That seems to be happening to you way too often, kochany. Last time we spoke on the phone you said you’d had more than the month previous. It’s getting worse.” She frowns, adding that to her list of worries. Geralt had been showing signs of worsening PTSD for years, and it had moved from a background concern to a full-blown worry for her in the last few months. 

“Hmm. Yeah…” he heaves a heavy sigh, frowning. Beneath her, he shifts side to side uneasily for a moment before re-settling. “I lost track of my feet… when I looked up, I was a long way from where I had been, and my hand hurt…” he shifts slightly to get more comfortable, feeling a rill of nerves as he recalls seeing Jaskier for the first time. It was rare for him to share things like this with Yennefer. It felt weirdly naked. He swallows hard. “Jaskier was there. He was kind.” His voice trails off as he feels his chest tighten, making it hard to speak. 

Yennefer smiles, taking in the way that Geralt’s face is already softening as he remembers Jaskier. This is a side of him she rarely sees. “He told me you let him bandage your hand, kochany. You barely even let me touch you when you’re hurt. You must have really liked him,” she teases gently, trying to keep him talking. To her delight, a bashful smile flits across Geralt’s face, there and gone again in a heartbeat. 

“I… did. Yeah.” He replies awkwardly, avoiding her eyes. She doesn’t press, letting him find his way through. She is rewarded a moment later as he continues. 

“He’s really… Hmm. I didn’t know what to do with it.” Shaking his head, he fidgets her hair uncomfortably.

“Really what?” She nudges him. “Hot? Beautiful? Terrifying? What are you trying to tell me?”

Geralt tilts his head to give her a frustrated look, but she smiles back at him and he relaxes a little bit. This is an old habit of hers, trying to get him to be more forthcoming, more specific. Embarrassed, he squirms. 

“He’s really beautiful, Yen,” he admits, very quietly. A bemused look comes over him, the expression out of place on his usually stoic face. She laughs, cupping his cheek and running her thumb over it. 

“I love how you look when you say that, mój drogi.” Yennefer sighs, feeling bittersweet. “I don’t know if you’ve ever looked that way before, talking about someone. It’s good.” And it is. Geralt has never allowed himself much in the way of happiness, and she likes how it looks on him, regardless of how it came to him.

Geralt grimaces, embarrassed, pulling his face away from her hand. She lets it drop back to his chest, where he holds it softly against his breastbone, needing the warmth of her close. The touch on his face was too much, but her hand near his heart feels about right. 

Seeing how uncomfortable he is, she lets the subject drop. “And then… what? Lunch?” She’s rewarded with another faint flicker of half-smile. 

“Yeah. Good food, too.” 

She gives him a soft look, squeezing his hand very gently. “Then a nap?”

Grumbling softly as his embarrassment deepens further, Geralt nods. Yen waits, and he eventually realizes she expects him to keep talking. Reluctantly, he continues. “I slept for a while. I woke up at night and he…” Geralt shrugs and heaves a quiet sigh, “came in very upset not long after.”

“You didn’t like seeing him that way, did you?” Yen asks gently, studying Geralt’s face as she questions him, privately fascinated. It feels odd to see him open up. Unexpected, but good.

“No,” he admits, fidgeting with her fingers as he cradles her hand against his chest. Groping for words, he feels like his throat is closing up on him again. 

Yennefer knows him well enough to expect this and slightly changes the subject again, hoping to keep drawing him out. “How did you like being behind a bar for real? I remember back in Tel Aviv you used to talk David into letting you back behind the counter after hours to see what he did and where he put everything… I swear I don’t know how he used to put up with you bothering him so much.” 

Geralt laughs, the expression throwing light across his drawn features. “He appreciated having someone to talk to who didn’t want to argue about the football match, Yen. I wasn’t bothering him.” 

She chuckles, shaking her head. “I find that hard to believe. You were like a little child getting to see a fire engine last time I saw you back there with him. It was very sweet,” she smiles, her eyes twinkling with a tease, “But it personally would have driven me bloody well insane. I would have thrown you out.”

“Lucky for me he wasn’t you, then,” Geralt says, nudging her gently with his elbow, causing her to smile again. She nudges him back in the ribs, pleased to see him warming up and relaxing.

“So. Real night behind the bar. I heard you even made tips, hmm?”

“I did,” he admits, his face clearing, looking younger than she’s seen him look in years. “I… it was fun, Yen. It was challenging. I don’t think I got a thought in edgewise the entire night because I had to hustle so hard.” He tips his head back against the headboard, studying the swirls in the plaster of the hotel ceiling. “I loved it.”

She relaxes against him, enjoying his happiness. “I thought you might have.” He looks down at her and smiles, and she squeezes his hand. She lets the conversation rest for a moment, letting the warmth of the exchange sink deep into both of them. It’s a rare treat to see Geralt smiling about something like this, and she wants to savor it. 

Eventually, he lifts his hand to begin playing with her curls again. She sighs comfortably and shifts against the pillows, loving the gentle touch. Their eyes drift closed, and he hums softly in contentment as the silky ringlets slide between his fingers. After a while, she cracks open an eye. 

“I’m glad it went well, mój drogi. You’ve always wanted to do that.”

“It’s stupid,” he replies, suddenly uncomfortable. “But yes. I did.”

She sighs, frustrated. “It’s not a stupid thing to enjoy, Geralt. You’re allowed to have fun, kochany. Don’t let ghosts take away your joy.” 

He grimaces, but nods, conceding the point. It’s an old argument, and he is too emotionally exhausted to fight over something he knows he probably shouldn’t even be defending. The ugly words inside of him from years of pain are always there, ready to be spoken again and again. Yennefer has never had the patience for them, though, pushing back when he spoke ill of himself or the things he loved.

She chews the inside of her lip lightly, wondering how to approach the next part of the conversation. She knows she needs to be delicate, because she doesn’t want to shut him down. Cautiously, she says, “You must have been tired by the time you were done.”

He eyes her, reluctant to be drawn into conversation about Jaskier, worried that she will say something unkind about him. She eyes him back, feeling a little guilty as she sees his worry. Sitting up, she pats his chest. “I’m going to get a refill. Would you like some?” She grabs her glass and rolls off of the bed. When she turns to look at him, he extends his empty glass to her and she takes it without further comment. 

She walks to the counter and sets the glasses down, filling them each with a generous measure of brandy. When she returns his glass to him, his face is closed, and he pulls the glass in close against his chest. Sitting on the end of the bed near his feet, she cocks her head and looks him over. He looks haggard and uncertain, wrung out by the last few weeks of his life. 

She reconsiders her approach, and ventures, “Are you worried about what I’ll say if you talk about going home with him?”

Startled, his eyes come up to meet hers, and he reluctantly nods.

Taking a sip of her brandy, she rolls it over her tongue as she considers this. “Kochany… We need to talk about this.” She holds up her hand as he goes to speak, a gentle but firm gesture. “So for once, I’ll try and hold off on telling you what’s on my mind. I just want you to tell me what’s going on.”

He huffs a quiet laugh and brings the glass to his mouth, taking a swallow. “You must really be worried if you’re willing to bite your tongue, Yen.” 

She laughs at that, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “I don’t know if worried is the right word, but yes. I think it’s very important that you feel safe to speak right now, so I am going to be very careful with the words I choose. Ok?”

He shifts uncomfortably, rubbing his shoulder against the headboard as if to scratch an itch, but when he settles, he nods. “Ok,” he says, muffled by the tumbler as he takes another sip. They sink into an uncomfortable silence together, wreathed in the scent of brandy and exhausted stress. She watches him out of the corner of her eye, noticing that his body language closes down and becomes more stiff and unreadable as the minutes tick by. It has been a long day, and they are both worn out.

As she gets to the bottom of her tumbler and tosses back the last of her brandy, she comes to a conclusion. Reaching out slowly so as not to startle him, she grabs Geralt’s ankle and gives it a gentle squeeze. “You know what? I’m hungry. I’m going to order us some dinner.” His face is shadowed by exhaustion and guilt as he looks up at her, and he mutely bobs his head once to show that he’s heard. 

After they decide what to eat and place the order, she retreats to the shower. She washes off her makeup, combs out her hair, and tries to rinse some of the stress off of her skin. When she feels as settled as she is going to get, she shuts off the shower, dries off, and gets on her silk pajamas. It’s been a truly exhausting day, and she hopes that dinner will help both of them recover. 

The dinner itself is a quiet affair. They eat together in strained but companionable silence, listening to the whine and hum of the air conditioner. Geralt has made his way through most of the bottle of brandy by the time they finish, and the food and drink seem to have mellowed his mood considerably. He even smiles as she brings out his favorite soft sleeping shirts, which she brought from their family apartment in England. They smell of her and their daughter Cirilla, of their home, and he dons one of them tenderly as they get ready for bed. 

Yen turns out one bedside light and Geralt turns out the other before they slip under the sheets and curl around one another in the dim evening light. She wraps her arms around his waist, cradling his hips against her own, and presses a kiss to his back. Heaving a deep sigh, he leans back into her, starting to relax. They lay curled together like that for some time, hearts beating together. 

“He gave me a safe place to stay, Yen.” Geralt volunteers suddenly into the twilight of the room, his deep voice quiet. She tilts her head back to listen, stroking her hand down his side to show him that she heard him. He subsides back into a stifled silence, overwhelmed, and she lets him. If he’s volunteering information like this, then she knows to give him time. More will come. 

A while later, he speaks again. “His house is nice.”

“Do you like it there?” She asks quietly, smiling as he nods. 

After another long silence he adds, “He bought it because his friends were dying.” She sits up on one elbow, curious, peeking over his shoulder at him. He avoids her eyes, but recounts the story that Jaskier had told about Fire Island, about his experience of the queer community’s devastation during the 80s, his voice rough and quiet. Sliding down behind his back, she begins to stroke his hair as he tells the story, letting it wash over her as she lays behind him. When he finishes, she squeezes his shoulder gently with her small hand. 

“That sounds terribly lonely,” she observes, her voice quiet. He shrugs, glad to be facing away from her so that he doesn’t have to see her eyes. It’s her turn now to grope for words, and it takes her a moment to pick her way forward. The story made Jaskier sound very kind, but it also underscores some of her concerns about his boundaries. She chews the inside of her lip, studying Geralt’s broad back in the darkness.

“Have you felt safe in his home?” She asks, finally. He stiffens, and she grimaces, hoping he won’t shut down. The silence stretches for a long painful moment before he replies.

“Always.” He says, with a firmness that surprises her. “And don’t ask if we’ve been safe. It’s been fine. He’s fine.” The way he bites out the words, she can tell that he’s embarrassed. She frowns, opens her mouth to speak, pauses, then tries again. 

“I’m always going to ask you if you’re being safe, Geralt. You know that.” She chides. He growls and turns away from her, flattening himself to the bed on his stomach. Shaking her head, she follows him, laying across his back to provide pressure and comfort. She shakes loose her hair, allowing it to spill down over his shoulders, and smiles when his hand comes up to tangle in her curls even as he grumbles. 

“You’ve been intimate with him. Have you been using condoms?” She presses. He shakes her gently, trying halfheartedly to dislodge her, but she doesn’t budge. After a moment, he nods. 

“Good.” She sighs, relieved and scared and sad, feeling like everything is a little out of her depth right now, a little too far out of her control. Sinking down against his back, she squeezes him close. 

“Has he ever pressured you?” She asks into the worn fabric of his t-shirt, reluctant to upset him more but determined to ascertain if he is genuinely safe. 

“No. He offered to stop.” Geralt grumps into his pillow, the answer so quick it surprises Yennefer again. She relaxes slightly. She can feel the gentle tugs as Geralt works his fingers in her hair, rubbing the damp curls and allowing them to spring back, the sensation as familiar and comforting to her in its own way as it is to him. 

“I’m glad to hear that, mój drogi,” she says, feeling some of the tension beginning to leave her body.  Turning her head, she kisses the back of his neck. “You’re precious to me. If I have to share my husband, I want him to be treated like a prince.” She chuckles, and Geralt huffs a quiet laugh under her, relaxing minutely. 

“Did you take the time to get to know him any?” She asks softly into his skin. “Did you talk?”

“We lived together for two weeks, Yen. Yes, we talked.” Geralt replies, mildly exasperated. 

“Oh?” She presses, circling her fingers on him.

“Oh what?” Geralt grumbles, but she nudges him, not about to be deterred. He sighs and says, “He likes some of the same books I do. He plays music but he’s shy about it. Told me some great stories about the bar. Um. He asked about my childhood and I told him about candy I liked, stuff I did on base with the other kids. Told him a little about my career. Some of the crazy places I’ve been, people I’ve met. You know. We talked, it wasn’t just…” Lifting one shoulder in an uncomfortable shrug, he trails off.

“Not just sex?” Yennefer inquires. 

“Right,” Geralt replies, running his fingers through her curls again tentatively. He can feel her smile against his shirt.

Yennefer feels her body relax a little, relieved that Geralt had at least taken some time to get to know his idiot while they were diving in headfirst. She eyes the back of his head intently, her reporter’s instincts tingling. The next question she’s going to ask might just shut him down, but she suspects for once that it won’t, so she seizes her moment. 

“Do you like him?”

A ringing silence follows her words, and she can feel Geralt’s whole body go rigid under her own. His hand stops, and he drops it out of her hair and back to the bed. Sighing, she leans into him, providing as much gentle pressure as her body weight will allow. 

It’s a very personal question, which Geralt rarely handles with any kind of grace, but she wouldn’t be who she is if she didn't ask questions like this. It’s one of the things that he values most about her, but also one of the things he hates. Especially since the answer to this particular question makes him feel so very naked. Swallowing, heart beginning to hammer nervously, he clears his throat. Then he admits, with extreme slowness, “I don’t think I’ve ever liked anyone more, Yen.” 

A lopsided smile spreads across her face and she squeezes him again. “I think the way you met him is absolutely insane, mój drogi, but I also think it’s very sweet that there is someone you like that much. Do you want to keep seeing him?” She lifts her head and watches with amusement as the back of his pale neck reddens. Geralt isn’t a big blusher usually, but talking about Jaskier seems to be bringing it out in spades. Her smile widens as he nods into his pillow, the blush making its way rapidly up what she can see of his cheeks. 

“Geralt…” she says knowingly, nudging his back. 

“Okay,” he groans, years of resistance finally crumbling. There wasn’t anywhere to hide anymore, not after everything that had happened recently. “I’m gay. Are you happy now?” Even saying it aloud frightens him to his core, makes his heart hammer and his palms sweat. It feels like one of the most dangerous things that he has ever said. The feeling is awful, but also oddly freeing. 

“Oh, Geralt… yes.” Shocked, she tries to keep her voice calm. This is huge, but she doesn’t want to startle or embarrass him. “That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you say it aloud, mój drogi. That’s a big step. I’m very happy.” She grins as he growls into the pillow, hiding his face from her. 

“You deserve happiness, Geralt. I’m glad you’re starting to be able to talk about this.”

“I hate it.”

“I know, kochany, but it’s important.”

He snorts into the pillow, idly trying to shake her off again. She just tightens her thighs around his hips, laughing quietly, relief coursing through her in rushes. If he can stop dying on that hill, she thinks there’s at least a chance that he can make it through everything else. 

Changing the subject again, she says, “You mentioned he bought that house and re-fitted it. That takes a lot of money, especially for someone as young as you say he was at the time.” He shrugs, but she can tell from the way he turns his head that he’s listening. “He said his last name is Pankratz. Any relationship to Pankratz Enterprises?”

“Why?” Geralt asks, turning his head enough to eye her suspiciously. 

“Well, because it would explain the money,” she says. “They’re an investment firm. One of my coworkers did a story on some of the business they were doing over in Japan… Mostly electronics. Nothing exciting.” She sits up and starts knuckling up and down his back, kneading at the tense muscles and trying to reassure him that she isn’t about to start on some tirade. To be fair, this is something she frequently does when investment firms are a subject of conversation, so his wariness is well justified. Eventually, as she continues not to comment on it, he relaxes. 

“He mentioned the company in relation to his family.” Geralt admits finally. 

“Well then. You really have landed on your feet,” she laughs. “Your idiot is rich, handsome, and he seems very kind.” 

“He’s not an idiot, and he’s not mine,” Geralt complains, gathering the pillow up under his head. 

“He’s a little bit of an idiot, kochany,” she replies wryly, digging her knuckles carefully into a knot. He wheezes and grumbles but allows it, enjoying the touch. “He fucked you and then offered you a job. The ethics there are a little blurry, Geralt.” She pauses and cocks her head to the side. “Are you going to take it?” 

“Yen…” Geralt groans, rubbing his face into the pillow, surging with embarrassment. “I don’t know. Maybe? I think I want to, I just…” He heaves a sigh into his pillow. “I don’t know.”

Yen blinks slowly and then reaches up to smooth her hand across his face and hair again, her cool fingers soft. “It’s good that you waited to say yes, then.” She reassures. “It sounds like you have a little sense left after all.” Leaning down, she kisses his cheek. “It sounds like fun, but it could also be a bit much for you right now, hmm?” Geralt hunches his shoulder as her hair tickles his ear, nudging her face away from him, but she can feel him shake with a brief, silent chuckle. 

“Maybe,” he admits. The night at the bar had been one of the most exhilarating of his entire life; he’d felt safer and more alive there than he had ever felt anywhere else. But it was also such a culture shock that he was still shaken by it, still processing everything he’d seen and heard and felt. He isn’t sure yet if he can handle being so out among queer people. To be immersed in a whole community where everyone knew. Even though the idea was thrilling, some deep old fear gripped him every time he thought about committing to that level of vulnerability. 

“Well. We’ll keep it in mind as we’re figuring out how to pick up all the pieces then, okay kochany?” Yennefer says, sitting back up and resuming work on the knot near his spine. She smiles to herself at the idea of him perched behind some bar serving leather men and drag queens. He was too afraid to admit it to most people, but she knew he loved watching queer people perform and express themselves. Someday, the job might even be good for him. But right now, they’d have to take everything one thing at a time. 

He nods, hiding his face back in the pillow, and sinks into silence as she continues to knead him. Some time later he mumbles, “I really like him and I don’t know what to do, Yen.” 

Yennefer pauses and sighs, hands coming to rest on his shoulders. “Have you considered going on a real date with him, kochany? You know… get to know him properly? Maybe talk about… boundaries?” She tickles the back of his neck lightly, causing him to growl and swat lightly at her hand. Laughing, she rests her hand on his back again. He shifts under her, subtly moving back and forth as he tries to sort his way through feelings he’s never really had to deal with before. She drapes comfortably on him, resting, feeling the shifts and tics as he processes. 

“No,” he admits finally. “I hadn’t.” 

Yennefer sighs, feeling sorrow twist her heart. “Did it even occur to you?” She asks gently.

“No,” Geralt mumbles, feeling the raw ache in his own heart. He was afraid to be seen in public with a love interest, much less go on a date. Until very recently, there had been too much hanging on the risk of getting caught. He could have lost his job, his reputation, even potentially complicated his right to custody of his daughter should something happen to Yennefer. 

It didn’t change how much he wanted to do it though. To be able to walk out with someone just like any other couple, without the fear of one’s whole life collapsing around their ears. Instead… The muscles in his back give a little shiver as he remembers some of the things he’s seen. Risking death to hold a lover’s hand in public had always seemed like a bad deal to him. Until now, he’d never put himself in a position where he’d have to worry about it.

Yennefer lifts her head and watches what she can see of his face, feeling the longing and fear radiating off of him. Geralt didn’t seem to think he had a right to be happy, and he’d consistently avoided situations where he might have too much joy. It was heartbreaking to watch, and she thought she might burst if she saw him do it to himself even one more time. 

She worries at her lip for a moment, then reaches out and uses her thumb to rub gentle circles into Geralt’s jaw, loosening some of the deeply held tension there. After a while, he turns his head, giving her access to the other side. Bit by bit, she can feel him relaxing. She mulls for a while longer, then says, “It’s all right to want him, you know.” 

Geralt turns his face back into the pillow, the tips of his ears burning. She withdraws her hand, but remains on his back, a gentle weight on him that his touch-hungry body anchors to and finds solace in. “I know,” he admits after a long moment. He’d been on a long journey to even get to the point of being able to say that aloud, but his family had finally gotten him there.

Homosexuality had been decriminalized in England while Yennefer had been in college, and she’d grown up in a culture that by and large had room for homosexuality. By the time that she and Geralt had actually met she’d long been accustomed to the idea that it was all right to be queer. She’d been the first person to really talk with him about it, to try and convince him that there wasn’t anything wrong with him. When Yennefer had clued Coën in, much to Geralt’s surprise he had joined in supporting him without batting an eyelash. Coën had grown up with a queer cousin, and they had remained close as adults. To him, Geralt’s sexuality had been normal, unremarkable even. 

Over the years, they had finally gotten him to concede that he at least had the theoretical right to want who he wanted. It hadn’t been easy for him, though, and this was whole new territory. Wanting Jaskier was one thing, but seeing him romantically was another entirely. That was before even taking into account that his daughter was currently living in another country. 

Yennefer can practically hear the gears in Geralt’s brain grinding. She snorts softly, biting his shoulder. “Stop,” she says dryly, chuckling as he gives a little jump. Then she grins lopsidedly at him. “Do you want to date him, kochany?” She feels him stiffen again, but this time she just watches him fondly as he works his way through it. Sure enough, a long moment later, he nods. 

Her heart does a twisting swoop, and she smoothes her hands over his shoulders. She feels deeply torn as she considers the situation in front of her in all its complicated glory. Geralt, freshly found after being discharged from the Army, frighteningly depressed and possibly in love. Her daughter and best friend overseas in England waiting for news, waiting for their family to come back together. And herself, caught in the middle of it, trying to make sense of what to do next. 

On the one hand, it felt like the sensible thing to do was go back to England. Forget about the whole affair here, get Geralt grounded where she had social resources to get him stabilized, bring him back to everything that was familiar to her. Not to mention, being gay was legal in England, at least in private. 

On the other hand, she had never seen Geralt so desperately in need of happiness, of reasons to stay alive. Everything he’d built his life around had shattered out from beneath him all in one go. The military hadn’t just been his adult life; the man who had raised him had started training him to be an Army officer as soon as he could walk. There had never been any other options for him. She couldn’t imagine the pain he was in. Who was she to take away the little spot of hope that had come from his discharge? 

And just like that, she knew the answer; no one. She was no one to take away his bright spot when he needed it most. As attached as she was to London, even she had never lived there for any length of time. Her career demanded she and Coën were on the move constantly, and her homeschooled daughter was well adapted to the routine of packing up and moving to new places. It was worth at least considering the possibility of giving Geralt the chance to try reaching for joy, for once.

“Well then…” she sighs, leaning into him softly. “I used enough miles to rent the room for a month. I thought I might just get them refunded, but…” she hesitates, worrying, then plunges on. “If you want to take a little more time to get things figured out here, I would be willing to consider staying.” Beneath her, Geralt goes very quiet and still, wary but interested in what she has to say next. 

“It sounds like you made a special connection with that lover of yours, kochany. That doesn’t happen every day. If you wanted to explore seeing him, I would support you.” She runs her fingers delicately down the back of his neck, knowing how best to soothe him. Feeling the wariness singing in his muscles, she caresses him softly.

Geralt stares at the headboard as his mind churns, feeling just as torn as Yennefer does. As bad as things had gotten before he left home, he knew he should return to Ciri and Coën. Even the idea of lingering here to pursue a potential love interest feels dangerously selfish. Especially given how much shame it might bring on his innocent daughter, who hadn’t asked to be dragged into his mess of a life. Unlike Coën and Yennefer, she couldn’t walk away. What gave him the right to pursue joy at her expense?

“What about Ciri?” he asks, eventually. “I can’t just make decisions like that for her.”

“Decisions like what? Taking a little time for yourself after a devastating life change? Hush. You’ve never needed to care for yourself more than you do now. Let me worry about Ciri for a moment.” Yennefer chides. “When it comes to making important decisions like moving her, we make those choices together. As a family. But this?” Smiling sadly, she smoothes her hand across the back of his head. “This isn’t that. You’re a grown man, you get to have a lover. That’s a choice you are making for you, not her.” She leans down and places a kiss on the back of his head. “And you know what? I support you. I’ve got your back. You really do have time, Geralt. I had already planned to be gone at least until the end of July, just in case I needed the time to track you.” She snorts fondly and tweaks his ear. “Which I’m still angry you made me do, by the way.” 

The awful, tense mood he is in cracks slightly and he lets out a painful little chuckle. He feels weirdly light. “Sorry, neshama shelì,” he rumbles. 

“Good,” she sighs, exasperated. “You should be.” She sits up, giving him some room to breathe and think. “This is one of those situations where you really do get to choose, kochany. Think about it. I’m right here.”

Beneath her, Geralt nods. Slowly, he begins to mull his options. His life feels like it’s been exploded, and the world lay wide open in front of him. Granted, most of it would be full of closed doors; a gay veteran, nearly a retiree, with what amounted to a felony conviction on his record… that kind of man wasn’t going to get far. But it was still far more choice than he’d ever had in his life. There was no one left to impress except his family. No more sword hanging over his head; it had already fallen. 

And Jaskier… as stupid and complicated as it was likely to be if he tried to date him, he couldn’t shake the aching desire to be back in his arms again. He’d never had the pleasure of sweet, slow mornings in a lover’s embrace before. Quiet hours talking, unafraid of interruption or judgment. The peace of knowing a lover was coming home to him, to wrap him in safety and peace. 

“I know it probably won’t work out…” Geralt hedges, “But what if it does? What then? You all have lives in England.”

“Well… if it does go well, then we’ll figure out what then,” Yennefer replies firmly. The whole mess is giving her a bad case of the nerves, but she meant it when she said she would back him up. “Even if it does, we can figure something out. There are two major metropolitan areas nearby that have branches I can work out of. Besides, you know how many times we’ve moved. This wouldn’t be too different.” 

She pauses, chewing the inside of her lip as she watches his gears begin to grind again. “Normally,” she adds, her voice softer, “I would be the first to insist you go home and see your daughter right away.” He nods, evidently relieved she’s brought it up. “But,” she continues. “Nothing about this is normal, Geralt. Not a single, bloody thing. The playbook’s been torn up. There’s no right answers here. And if there’s anything good that can come out of you being discharged like this? Then I think you should take it in both hands, kochany. This isn’t some situation where you would be abandoning us.”

Oddly, a rush of relief accompanies those last words. On some level, that had been precisely what he was worrying about but hadn’t been able to put voice to. Every time he’d left his daughter, he’d felt like he was abandoning her, over and over again. He couldn’t do that to her in yet another way, especially not over something as frivolous and shameful as a lover. He’d been selfish long enough. But Yennefer didn’t ever encourage him if there wasn’t hope. It wasn’t in her nature. “Are you sure?” he asks, his voice husky and quiet. 

Seeing that he needs the reassurance, Yennefer bites down on a surge of impatience and nods. Normally she doesn’t have this much bandwidth for when Geralt dithers, but tonight is special, and she’s sure as hell going to make some allowances for him. He has a right to be frightened and unsure about this. 

“I’m sure,” She says firmly. “You’re stuck with us, Geralt. Wherever you go now, we’ll follow you. You won’t be able to get rid of us anymore,” she very gently teases, sliding down to hug him tightly again as she sees the ghost of a smile twitch his lips. 

“Promise?” he murmurs, turning his head to look over his shoulder at her. His heart warms as he sees her violet eyes twinkling over his shoulder. 

“Promise,” she assures him. If she had it her way, he wasn’t ever getting out of their line of sight again. 

He shifts under her, feeling a rush of hope wash over his confused, stressed out body. Flicking his fingers nervously, he says, “Okay.” Then, “Is it really ok to try?”

Yennefer huffs quietly. “If I have to tell you one more time, I’m going to write it on your forehead,” she grumbles affectionately. “You really want to do this?” Beneath her, there is another long, stiff hesitation. Then, a nod. 

“Good. Then tomorrow, I’m going to have one more talk with him. A proper one, this time. Just like we agreed.”

“Yen… you’re meddling,” Geralt grumps, making a very idle attempt to toss her off. She just tightens her thighs and stays put. 

“I am,” she agrees with a little smile. “You promised I could interview any new boyfriends before we even got married. I know it was a long time ago, kochany, but I haven’t forgotten.” 

“Worst thing I’ve ever agreed to,” Geralt grunts irritably, but there’s no heat in his tone. Yennefer smirks. 

“Mój drogi, I’m here to back you up, but I still get to be myself,” she reminds him dryly. “You met a man at long last, now I get to have my fun.” 

“Didn’t you harass him enough at the hospital?”

“Mmm, no. I don’t think I will ever have harassed him enough,” she teases, eliciting another groan from the general region of the pillow. “Seriously though, Geralt, I have a few more questions to ask him. And I have some concerns about his boundaries that I want to be clearer about before I get out of your way… It’s not normal to bring a man into your house and bed so quickly, love. What if there’s something really wrong?”

“He’s fine.” Geralt snaps, becoming irritated. “Will you lay off?”

“Would you?”

He hesitates, then subsides with a bubbling grumble, conceding the point. If the circumstances had been flipped and he’d had to hunt Yennefer down, he knows he would have been even worse to the person he found her with. 

“Fine.” He groans, pressing his face into his forearms. “So tomorrow you’re going to go harass him some more?”

“Well…” She sighs, relenting. “Only a little. Mostly I want to have a real adult talk with him… if he really wants to date you, then I need to know who he is first. Besides, he and I need to have an understanding. He needs to know I’m not going to just go away if he starts dating you.”

Geralt frowns. He didn’t like it, but he didn’t have to. When she had agreed to marry him, they had ended up having long talks about what would happen if one of them fell in love someday. If she was going to marry him, to share rearing a child with him, then they had both agreed she had the right to get to know who he was bringing into their lives and vice versa. “Okay, Yen. Fuck. Fine, you can harass him a little more. But then it stops. I need some fucking peace and I don’t want you two to be having pissing matches around me all the time.” He growls irritably. 

Yennefer laughs, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “You’re taking all my fun away,” she pouts, then dodges as he swats ineffectually at her, laughing. “Fine. Fine, I’ll tone it down after tomorrow.” She nudges him. “Unless he tells me something really concerning, I’ll support you, ok?”

Geralt hesitates, then nods. He reaches up, groping until he finds her hand, then he squeezes it gently. She squeezes back, falling silent. They sit there in the dark, breathing quietly, the muscles in Geralt’s back occasionally jumping as he relaxes by inches. A long while later, his low voice breaks the quiet. 

“I want him, Yen. It’s… stupid… I know it is. But…”

“Don’t be ashamed for wanting a beautiful man, Geralt. You’re allowed,” she reassures him, squeezing him tightly. “Don’t let ghosts take away your joy. I certainly won’t.” 

He swallows hard and nods. When she was pregnant with Cirilla, Geralt had been a wreck. Vesemir, his adopted father, had been dead for some years at that point. Despite that, Geralt had been plagued by fears of what Vesemir would think of the way Geralt’s daughter had come into the world, much less what he’d think of the way Geralt had acquired his wife. Coën had seen his terrible fear, tried to help him work through it, and eventually had gotten sick of it. ‘You can’t let ghosts take away your joy, man.’ He had told Geralt, exasperated. For some reason, the words had stuck with him. Had stuck with all of them. It was certainly a bad habit that Geralt had. Over time, it had become a familiar turn of phrase in their little family when he was struggling. 

“Well then,” she says, after a moment. “Sounds like that’s decided. Give me his address and I’ll go see him again tomorrow. If he’s going to be dating you, he gets to run the gauntlet first,” she chuckles. “He’s lucky Coën isn’t here yet or he’d be in double trouble.”

“Oh god, Yen, please tell him to lay off of Jaskier, this is bad enough as it is…”

“Never gonna happen, kochany,” she laughs. “If you really get settled here, we’re all going to follow you. Jaskier’s never going to get a moment’s peace.” 

“At least I won’t be alone with you crazy fuckers anymore,” Geralt grumbles, gently trying to dislodge Yennefer one last time, without any serious effort. 

“That’s right, love. You know what else I’m going to do tomorrow?” She hums pleasantly, leaning into him again. 

“What.” He inquires flatly, worn out and ready to be done with talking.

“I’m going to save you a trip to the store for new clothes, kochany. I know how badly you hate shopping. I will get you some nice civilian outfits…” She kisses the back of his neck. “And some clothes for dates.”

He hesitates for a long moment, finding that his throat has suddenly closed on him. The way Yennefer is doting on him right now isn’t unheard of, but he usually avoids putting himself in positions where she has the opportunity to do so. He doesn’t feel like he deserves any of this. Not even a little bit. But the love is reaching him nevertheless, and as painful as it is, he finds to his embarrassment that he is also grateful for it. 

“Sound good?” she prompts gently. It has been a long day, and he’s spoken to her more, on more emotional things, than he has in years. When he nods, she kisses the back of his head again. “Ok, mój drogi. Let’s get some rest.”

Slipping off of his back, she gathers her hair back into a braid for the night. Then she curls along his side. He rolls, turning and gathering her underneath his chin, nuzzling softly against the top of her head. She hums contentedly, tangling her fingers in his soft shirt. It has been a long time since she’s had him in her bed, and the peace of it makes her feel heavy and safe. They drift off to sleep together curled in a tight knot, taking solace from being together again at last.

[whumpbby]

P1 Saw your Wolves of Gotham and raise you Treasured Omega of Crime Alley, everyone including low ranked criminals love and protect the sole omega who lost everything but continues to give his all for everyone else, sharing food he's stolen or dubiously obtained, giving extra cash to the criminals who are just working with what the got and trying to feed their own families. The Omega is the first to step into confrontations if it means saving the pups and younglings of the alley. All adore him.

P2 The Omega who will offer clothes for alphas whose rut is painful without the scent of an omega to ease it. Who with sit with the sick that are dying in the street, just so they know they’re not alone. People want to claim him, the police want to bring him in for questioning as he’s often seen on the arms of suspicious persons, Batfam wants the Omega to have a home and pack but. Crime Alley will not let them take away the brightest soul of their hell hole and they will fight to protect Jason. 

***************************

This is, Jay didn’t start out strongly, he started out as a terrified child that was suddenly motherless, with the landlord knocking on the doors and debt collectors closing in. He was taken in by the social services at first - but social services, when it came to omegas, were gunning for getting him an alpha asap to get him out of the system - the orphanages in the bad parts of the city were called omega mills for a reason, the foster families that got kids form them weren’t there to help poor kids… Jason escaped as soon as a foster parent tried to scruff him for the first time. Fuck that.

But that landed him on the streets, with no support and no idea how to survive. He made do. He stole and lied and pretended to be an alpha when necessary, because that was what worked - omegas on the streets didn’t live long. So, he crushed all of his budding soft instincts and carried on. 

And then, when he was fourteen, he saw a group of punks picking on a homeless kid, and stepped in - and that was the end. He was beaten to death and there was no Robin with a finny quip, there was no Batman to stop it from happening, there was only freezing pavement underneath and trash heaping all around, and the darkness slowly closing in… 

He comes back, though. He wakes up with a gasp, cold and pained, and he’s breathing again, he drags himself to his hideout and… It’s been two days an no one found his body - not surprising in Gotham. He doesn’t know hat to make of it. He could swear that he died… he knows what survivable pain feels like and this was way above it…

And there’s this thing inside of him now, this burning feeling warming him… this anger… this rage, unbidden, raising with every moment of remembering how he got there, with every memory of his crap life and this crap city ad he’s so angry!

He’s so done. Gotham killed him, so he has no more qualms about letting it get away with anything. 

He finds the punks that killed him - a pack of young bucks, alphas and betas that want to be alphas, juvie material that hunted poorest corners for omegas to use. And they seem - fine. They seem normal, acting like nothing, like they didn’t just beat a kid to death a few days ago in a dingy alleyway… If he saw regret in them, he might have reconsidered, the good parts of him might have stopped, but there is no regret. 

He gets his revenge - he’s not stronger than them, but if he catches them one on one, his rage wins. The old gas-pipe is the only thing he could find to use as a weapon and it turns out to be a fairly effective, so he keeps it. Killing doesn’t make him feel good, quite on the contrary, but it makes that burning inside of him settle somewhat, the knowledge that no one else will be hurt by these lowlifes gives him peace for a time. 

But it doesn’t last long before he’s faced with another atrocity - a kid omega, barely older than seven, and two adult alphas carrying it away, firmly scruffed, towards a nearby car.And maybe back in the day Jason would have turned his face away, knowing that he won;t be able to stop two adults, that he is too weak - but not now. He knows that he isn’t weak enough to let it happen, that burning inside roars into flames, he picks up his pipe and starts running. The first alpha doesn’t have a chance to turn around before Jason boosts himself on the fallen trashcan and the pipe swings, hits the man in the side of the head, the bent part on the end crushing his temple. He drops down like a wet rag. The other alpha shouts, turns, he drops the kid and his hand goes to his pocket to reach for a knife, but Jay is already standing on the top of the car swings. Headshot. Blood sprays into the air - he knows that head wounds bleed like hell, he knows… 

The baby (he’s just a baby, he’s so small, so thin, so bruised and smells of blood and terror) comes back to himself and, seeing the situation - the boy doesn’t run, doesn’t wail, he scrambles for the dropped knife and plunges it into the fallen alpha’s abdomen. And then again. And again. Whining and crying, frantic, he does what every omega in his place would do (that he presented this young makes disgust curl in Jay’s belly).

But the street is not safe, he knows that, soon enough someone will smell blood. He jumps down from the car and wrestles the knife from the kid’s hands, coaxes him to b quiet and get up, the little shaky legs barely hold him up. They need to run. Blood is blooming around, the two alphas will never be a danger to them, but the cops that arrive soon will. They need to go, they need to hide. 

Jay leads them into the tangle of streets, into the heart of abandonment, instincts pushing at him to go lower, to the ground, lower, out of the freezing air, dig, bunker down, nest where they won;t be able to find them. 

They end up going down - into the ruins of Old Gotham, a spiderweb of corridors and passages half crumbled and dark, but dry, safe from prying eyes, safe from the cops. They hunker down and nest, just the two of them. Jason patches the kid up as best as he can, washes him down with what little water he had, gives him his threadbare clothes that are dirty, but at least don’t smell like alpha spunk. 

He has no idea what to do now - the fired has died down, the power it gave him is dropping, he feels sick and scared, he’s just a kid, the kid is just a baby, they both have blood on their hands now, no one will take them in… they can’t hide in the tunnels forever, can they?

Can they?

*

Two days later Jason emerges from the tunnels into a snowy landscape of Gotham proper. His gas-pipe on the back, half hidden by his ratty backpack. He goes back to the streets he knows and put his ear to the ground, and there are whispers about two alphas snuffed out like nothing, left a bloody mess on the frozen pavement. Fingers point to Batman, but Batman doesn’t kill, does he? There’s no other vigilante in Gotham who would… and the alphas were traffickers, no great loss, is it? Cops wouldn’t touch them, and they were too small of fries for Batman, so really, it’s almost community service at this point. 

Sometime settles in Jay’s belly that day, the burning and the rage, the knowledge that if he didn’t do anything, the baby would be dead - that no one else was going to do anything to protect the kids on the streets… if he doesn’t do it, no one will. Who were they going to rely on, Robin? The little useless alpha running behind the Bat and throwing jokes as if it wasn’t serious, as if the lives the overlooked weren’t important, as if the victims were nothing!

If he doesn’t do anything, they will keep dying, being trafficked, being hurt… 

He has o do something.

*

Two years later, Batman is at the end of his rope. He can’t be more than sixteen, that kid, can he? He’s tall for his age, but malnutrition made his body awkward, all of it is lean muscle, poised and tense to strike at any moment, all of the energy stored for fighting, for running, for the gas-pipe seemingly welded to his hand. All of it poised to strike without warning at the barest provocation. 

It’s heartbreaking, to see what the city did to that child, what Gotham turned him into. For an omega to be - this. This coiled snake, this wild dog hungry for flesh of whoever crossed him - it’s unsettling, it’s wrong. His scent makes Batman’s stomach curl, harsh and heavy, and unfriendly. The kid makes no attempt at hiding it, it hangs heavy over the Old Gotham, a widening circle of LEAVE, GET OUT OR DIE. A scent of a monstrous omega underlined with a chorus of others, not as acute, but just as determined, just as dangerous - a hidden city of omegas circling like ants around their queen, a nest of hornets ready to swarm any perceived threat until it stops moving. 

He tried to crack it, he tried to - he tried to help them. Early on and even now, he will never stop trying to help them - but they made it clear that they don’t want his help. That Batman isn’t their savior. 

(“A sign of hope, my fuckin’ ass!” The girl couldn’t be more than fourteen and Bruce’s ears burn from hearing her casually swearing. She was scruffy and thin, smelled to be close to her cycle, she should be in a cosy family nest with her mother, not on the street with a bat in her hands, sneering at Robin with open contempt over a moaning man that used to be a prominent john at her feet and a group of more kids behind her back… “You appear and we do headcount, means enough people were murdered for the freaks to come out!“ 

It hurts to understand her point of view, but it’s not less true only because he wishes it wasn’t. 

They tried to take her in, take them all in, help them, put them somewhere where they could be taken care of… and learned the hard way that usual ways of dealing with omegas won’t work - Dick tried to come close, hoping that his own youth will be enough, that his calming alpha scent will be enough, that his friendly and open attitude will break the ice - he returned home with a broken wrist and a bruise on his face, taunts and sneers ringing in both of their ears.)

He tried many times since then, they both tried to crack the wall surrounding Old Gotham, but with no success. Every time they managed to get one child out, it wasn’t a week before it was taken back - until social services stopped accepting them, the damage caused by the rescuers too acute to be worth it. Ma Gunn’s school burning down was a loud and clear message. 

(He saw the boy for the first time then, framed by a wall of flames, and somehow still the brightest part of that image were his eyes - green and haunting. The wind and fire howled to the sky and the boy had to be waiting for them to show up, it was no coincidence. 

“Why?” Batman asked. It was an escalation of violence he didn’t expect, he didn’t think they’d move outside of the Old City…

“You ever check up on the kids you put here?” the boy asked, voice rougher than expected. “Or are you a part pimping them out, rich boy?”

The last stopped him for a second, fear griping him for a moment that he was found out, that… and the boy disappeared, washed out into the night like he was never there.)  

No, he never followed up on the orphans he left with the Ma, did he? He should, but he trusted the old omega. Later, he learned that he shouldn’t. That the kids that disappeared out of her ‘school’ were traded out. The guilt settled hard on his shoulders, one more error made in good stupidly faith that innocents paid for. One more reason for the children to resist his attempts at help - after that, how could they trust his help? 

Gotham learns quickly that the Old City is out of bounds for the criminal element - there were attempts to control it, of course, different mobs trying their hands at wrestling the power for themselves, gangs determined enough to ignore the blood-curling scent of danger hanging over the place. There was a time when bodies hung from the lamp-posts in the warehouse district, a message more than clear. 

Gordon stops sending out people to the Old City - too costly, no one wants to go, there’s no point. “May as well try to catch wind.” But Bruce feels that in truth, the Commissioner may be silently agreeing with the idea…

(“As long as no one interferes, they’re self-contained,” he says. “These kids are safer there then anywhere else, right now.”

“It won’t last,” Batman says. “These things never do. It will end badly.” And he can’t allow that.

“Well, then, better make sure no kids end up on the streets, right? They didn’t come form nothing, kid, there is a reason the Old City exists.”  Gordon’s eyes are pained and harsh as they look at him, straight into Bruce’s ones, as if the mas wasn’t there at all. “This isn’t an issue you solve by stuffing them back into a broken system that is the reason they’re there in the first place.”)

Leslie was even harder, her eyes pitiless as she stared Batman down one night in her office, after she came back form a house-visit, the harsh scent of the Old City still clinic to her clothes.  

(“They need help, Leslie.”

“They needed that help years ago, and that’s when we failed them.” Her voice is harsh, but hushed, her hands tremble as she unpacks her bag. There’s not much left in it. “Not every kid gets a manor and a butler to help them get through a tragedy, some get a flea-bitten mattress and a pimp that maybe won’t beat them too much!”

Se rears back, the words hitting him like a fist, the lack of remorse on her face startling, the child inside of him flinching at the remembered pain. How dare she.

“How dare you try and barge your way in there to ‘save them’!” She rounds on him, five feet five and harder than stone. “How dare you when it’s that ‘saving’ that got them there! They don’t need Batman, Bruce, they need an alpha that gives a damn about more than his own morals. An alpha to show them that the world outside won’t try to tear them to pieces!”

“I tried!” It was a weak defense to his own ears, but he had nothing else.

“Yes, you tried, and I had to preform six abortions on kids younger than Dick!”)

That silenced him. The reason for her anger, for her unflinching disregard for his own pain. He stepped back, left, mind grinding overtime to come up with a solution, with a way to fix this - because that’s what he always did, he fixed things. hat’s what he always wanted to do - to save people, to… to use his means to help others. So no more kids would be standing on a bloodied pavement, staring blankly into the night.

“We have to leave them alone.” These words form Dick were the least he expected. His partner, his Robin, wings clipped by the realization that there were people beyond his reach. “We have to stop trying to catch him. If we take him away, the place will crumble, the gangs will move in and the children will become easy pickings for any two-penny thug before we can even round them up. We can’t… I can’t let that happen. I can’t be a part of that, Bruce.” His son, bright eyes shaded with regret. “No matter how many people we can punch in the face, this isn’t what they need. We aren’t what they need.”

“I can’t let it go, Dick.” He was so tired. “They barely scrape by, I can’t…” A city of children - omega children - living off scraps, held together by a boy younger than his son, every winter grips his heart with terror for their lives.

“Then-then let’s help them. Let’s help them like that, make sure they have food and clothes, that someone out there cares enough…”

*

That’s how he comes to the moment.

Standing on the border of the Old City opposite the young wolf guarding its gates, a filthy street between them, dozens of eyes pinning him in place from windows and doors of the crumbling buildings.  He can’t see them, but he knows they’re there, a small army ready to tear him apart if he as much as breathes wrong at their pack leader. He never knew that ninjas would be easier to fight than enraged omegas barely taller than his waist.

“What do you want?” the boy’s voice carries well, he sounds like an alpha.

He grew since Bruce last saw him, a couple inches, maybe he’s even Dick’s height now. His face is sharp and jaw square, the only pretence of an omega being the barely noticeable width of the hips. The coiled strength is still there, but the violent light in his eyes is subdued, they’re filled with cold calculation instead. Nothing about him tells Bruce he considers Batman to be a threat – but everything speaks of wariness and willingness to do what needs to be done.

He’s an omega, but Bruce has never stood opposite a pack leader as evenly matched in will to him as that. Ra’s al Ghul was close, but he had an advantage of age and experience, while this was…

There were rumours The Omega couldn’t die thrown around. That The Omega got up every time. Rival gang threw him into the harbour. Three days later they were all gone and he was back. He was shot by a hitman hired by the Black Mask. Three days later the hitman was found dead and 3 of Roman’s warehouses were set aflame. Bullets and beatings, men and women trying to get a hit. Five years of violence and he was still standing, and they were not. Three days. Always three days.

Bruce doesn’t know if it’s truth or fabrication, but there is something to it, must be, because the last time he saw him, the boy’s eyes weren’t this bright.

“What do you want, rich boy?” The Omega repeats and this time Bruce can feel his voice in the soles of his feet.

A meta? Mystical? Something else? How has he never noticed before?

The tension in the air rises, the anticipation from the unseen observers grows.

God, if Ra’s ever hears about this, he will take the boy – rumour about immortality will be enough for him to chase. The League will ransack this place, leaving nothing behind.  

“For the last time, what do you want?”

Bruce has only one card to play here and it’s not as strong as he’d like it to be. One chance to get a foot in and hope they’ll accept his help. To show them that the world wasn’t going to tear them apart if they dare to trust it. It might be too late, but he has to hope it isn’t.

“What do you need?”

The questions barely stops the Omega from leaving. Angled away, distrust clear as day on his face and in the set of his body, he eyes the Batman with naked suspicion.

Bruce takes it as a chance it is. “What do you need? Food? Clothes? I can get you a steady supply of both.” Bargaining isn’t his forte, he grew so used to demanding.

A hiss sounds across the street, dozen small throats growling in warning. It’s humbling – he’s not a saviour here, he’s a potential threat and needs to step carefully.

“What for?” The Omega asks. “What do you want back, rich boy?”

Nothing -pushes at his lips, but he stops it. It will only ever be a lie to them, after so many alphas promised help and… He rethinks, recalibrates. Frankly, he didn’t expect to get that far.

“I want you to give Leslie health reports,” he says instead. “Monthly. Injuries, pregnancies, births. Deaths. She will keep it in confidentiality, as she did until now, I have no insight into them.” And he barely greed to that, but Leslie was unbent. “She will get the funds to help you more. Medication and vaccines, and pre-natal care…”

He wants to say more, he wants to tell them about the schooling he has planned, about possible stipends to get the kids out of the grip of poverty if they want to leave, of wanting to help this place become liveable and safe for them if they want to stay. But he’s aware this is already too much, that these are the most important things they lack (that an omega in charge of pups will instinctively respond to), that he has to move slow, that this all has a chance to blow up in his face.

The Omega is considering him now, aggression tuned down into barely distrust, but there’s a spark of interest there, a shade of the youth that should have been had the life not tried to squash it.

Bruce would give everything in that moment to know the boy’s name.

“That’s all?” It’s almost mocking, but not entirely.

“I want you to stop killing.” The next part is hard to voice, he has to force it, because Leslie was right, not everyone got a chance to cultivate unshaken morality after their life went up in flames. “Or don’t let them kill… if you have to.” He will work on it. He will try to help them overcome that, teach them how to keep their hands clean – hopefully, in time.

“And you will keep us safe from the lowlifes?” This time it’s a mockery. “We will shine a light in the sky and the Bat and his birdie will swoop down conveniently too late to save anyone, but the villain and the pretty, clean omega crying nicely for the reporters?”

He was right, this was too far, too much and too early. He has to backtrack. Fast.

“No, you have to defend yourself.” God, it’s hard to admit. “But the little ones…”

“Are always in danger.”

The Omega turns, fists clenched, steps off the sidewalk and crosses the street, and Bruce almost backs away, because the alleyway fills with growls and hisses, with danger, and he doesn’t want to set them off.

“We don’t go out to kill,” the Omega hisses, “they keep coming here to be killed. I made it clear, where the borders are, I made it simple.” He barely reaches Bruce’s chin, but it’s not important. “They come here armed, to murder children, to take them away to be sold, not one of them deserves to leave.”

The situation deteriorated, but at least now Bruce can scent him, can feel him up close, and underneath the tension and rage, there’s weariness and hunger, and underneath that there’s… something strange. Acrid and bitter, and alien, and hurt.

“How old were you?” He asks, maybe stupidly, but the alpha in him tears at the walls of restrain.

“When Gotham killed me for the first time?”  

He wasn’t asking about that, he thought… he hoped it was a metaphor, just rumours. The deadly shine in the green eyes told him otherwise.

“Fourteen. On the corner of Park Row. Went to bust some rims and got my head busted instead.”

Impossible. It was too much of a coincidence…

“I will think about your offer, Batman. Leslie will pass on the decision and I don’t want to see you here anymore.”

He turns away and leaves, washes out into the shadows and with him the presence of the pack watching Bruce try to gather himself back together.        

It was a small victory, but still one.  

[quixotic-writer]

Right Through the Very Heart of it

A request sent in by: the lovely @birdgirl1772 !

Summary: A girl’s trip to New York is not what you had in mind for a girl’s trip, a trip to the clubs was also not what you had in mind for your second night in the city. When things begin to spiral out of control, the compassion of two strangers named Joe and Q will change your mind just a bit.

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The city that never sleeps: New York, New York. This is the destination of our girl’s trip vote and one I think i’ll probably hate the most. I was the only one that voted against it wanting instead to go to Seattle and just have a relaxing, calm, slow paced trip. Here I am now, shuffling desperately through my luggage to find a dress to wear for a trip to the clubs tonight trying to buy myself more time to mentally prepare myself for this evening’s antics. I tried protesting that as well. I insisted we could opt for something more my speed like a broadway show instead, but Ari and Bella just wouldn’t budge and that I HAVE to go. Clubbing it was for tonight’s activity then I guess. I had to remind myself that it wasn’t just my trip, they deserve their share of activities too.

“Come on girlll, pick a dress so we can gooo!” Bella calls from the couch of the hotel room, already dolled up in her midnight blue skin tight dress, raven black hair curled up in loose waves. Her legs dangled off the arm of the couch and she scrolled through her phone.

“Is it a las vegas extravaganza sparkly red night, or is it a sleek black dress kinda night?” I ask over to Ari who is busy looking at herself in the bathroom mirror. She adjusts her wine red dress and teases at her blond hair. She makes her way over to me and peers over my shoulder as she looks at the two lovely dresses I had in each hand. Her eyes narrow as her gears go in her head.

“Black dress, always made you look super hot. Simple is nice y’know, guys like simple especially in a place where everything is complicated.” I wasn’t really looking to get lucky tonight, just mingle and see if anyone sticks out. I shove the red dress back into my luggage and bring out the black spaghetti strap ruched dress holding it up to get a good look at it. I don’t think I ever got a chance to wear this at home, maybe tonight is a night of trying to be an upgraded version of myself. Ari made a good decision, this was probably more New York speed than the other one. “Now don’t be too long getting ready, the fun is waiting for you!” I roll my eyes and step into the bathroom to get myself all gussied up.

When I finally emerged from the bathroom, feeling clean and collected, Ari and Bella’s eyes widen and so did their smiles. I give them a whole 360 spin to show off all the goods I got going. I lacked self confidence, but the energy they had buzzing was enough to get me going.

“Look at you baby girl. If I was a lesbian or a guy, i’d eat you up that’s how good you look.” Bella exclaims.

“Girl I would not want to leave the club without getting your number if I saw you. You look HOT!” Ari chimes in. I feel my confidence soar and I felt a lot better than I did earlier.

“Well, let’s head out then ladies!” The girls hoot and holler as we get our shoes on for the night. Despite the good vibes we had going, deep inside I feel a sense of unease in the pit of my stomach, but I play it off as nerves. It’s been a while since i’ve been able to have fun so i’m determined to have fun tonight, dance with my girls, meet someone, get a little loose. I’ve been so uptight all the time that maybe decompressing and letting go is what my spirit craves and needs.

We walk down the crowded streets of times square, the lights of the signs are so bright it almost seems like it’s still daytime. The streets are packed with people who have somewhere to be, zany street performers doing their thing with swarms of people around them, cars that never stop honking, and people never stop shouting. People kept bumping into me, cat calling after me, and staring. It’s all starting to get a little overwhelming and I feel a sense of dread rising deep in the lowest part of my abdomen and my chest. It all slowly started building and nearly becoming too much for my senses and I tried to ignore the instinct to run back to the hotel room and hide under the covers for the rest of the night.

“Guys? How much farther? Getting a little cramped and anxious here.” I ask as we keep our stride down the side walk, men yelling obscenities to us with a hunger for exotic attention.

“Just another block and around the corner. Don’t get yourself so wound up already, our night is only beginning!” Ari grabs my arm and links it with hers, my feet stumble trying to keep up, but I push forward anyway. Just one good night is all I want.

We finally find the place Ari had been raving about this morning and we stepped inside. Loud music flooded my ears, dim lighting was a change from outside, the seats at the bar are half full, and there are people everywhere chattering away. It seemed like an average bar to me, not sure what there is to rave about like Ari had.

“I need a drink.” I say as I start making a straight shot to the bar. Maybe a drink and a small buzz will help ease my nerves, get me going for the night and keep whatever energy in me alive.

“There’s the party girl we’ve been searching for!” The girls follow me to the bar and we all take a seat, a bar tender with glasses and of seemingly Puerto Rican decent smiles and comes over to get our drinks.

“Back so soon Ari? And I see you brought some friends as well!” He greets us warmly and is already preparing a drink in front of us.

“Of course, last night was fun and I knew I had to bring my girls. Ladies, this is Sal! He runs this ship and sure knows how to make a hell of a drink.” We both smile and introduce ourselves as he slides Ari her drink. “You remembered the drink I got last night? This guy is fucking incredible.” He look proud of himself as he raises his eyebrows and smiles.

“So what can I get for you ladies?”

“Long island iced tea please.” I shoot out immediately, both Ari and Bella turn to look at me shocked. I’m not really one for drinks, let alone some of the stronger ones.

“Damn girl, you’re just diving in aren’t you? If that’s the pace for the night: can I get a screwdriver please.” Sal nods and begins making our drinks. In the meantime I look to others around the bar and I notice Ari had peeled away and wandered off to talk to a guy at the end of the bar with her drink in hand. She has her flirty face on, guess I won’t bother her for the rest of the night.

Sal places my drink in front of me and I take a long sip hoping that the alcohol in this drink will kick in soon. It warms my esophagus as it goes down and I already feel that I might regret this drink later. I sit at the bar and watch silently as Sal and Bella chat away. I was off in my own head trying to block out any bothersome and intrusive negative thoughts. Any thought that came to mind, I took another sip of my drink until I had either drowned the thought out or had nothing else in my glass. I eventually reached a point where I started eating the ice in my glass to sop up whatever alcohol was hiding in there.

“C’mon! Let’s go dance!” Bella grabs me by my arm almost making me bump my empty glass off the counter top. We shuffle over to the open space that was occupied by fellow drunk patrons moving to the music and Bella starts grooving immediately, swaying her hips in smooth motions feeling the rhythm and matching tempo to the tunes that poured into the room. I, on the other hand, tried dancing but I moved in stiff awkward motions, feeling uncomfortable and scared to accidentally bump into anyone around me for fear of it turning into a confrontation.

Before I knew it, Bella had managed to slowly peel away just as Ari had and was off dancing with some other guy and we started drifting away further, and further from each other until I was virtually on my own. I felt sense of regret and dread pounding at my lungs like someone had punched me straight in my sternum and bruised my ribs.

“I don’t belong here.” I say quietly to myself as I stood completely still feeling isolated from the social circle around me. Everything felt like a blur around me, faces seemed like smeared oil paintings, the lights felt brighter than the sun, and the room felt like it was spinning. My lungs felt as though they had stopped working and I was beginning to drown in the warm air of body heat.

“Hey there hottie.” I see a guy start approaching me, already I felt uncomfortable around him. I didn’t want to talk to anyone, I wanted space, I wanted to be alone, I wanted out of here. I have a glazed over look in my eyes and he just ignores all signals to shut him down and keeps on pursuing me. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing all alone?” He tries to grab for my hips to dance and make a move, but I quickly bat his hands off of me back away.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” I say defensively and my fight or flight kicks in as I slightly raise my arms should I need to defend myself. My nerve endings feel like they’re on fire and shame washes over me as I realize tonight was a wash and that I just want to go back to the hotel more than anything. I kept denying myself my own comfort and here I am now in a situation I feel as though I can’t escape. A confrontation I feared in a place i’ve never been to began unravelling before me.

“What’s you’re deal psycho? Can’t a guy just dance with a girl?” He raises his voice and steps a little closer to me. I immediately mentally shut down and I felt as though I was dissociating and off on a whole different plane of existence.

“Hey buddy, back off and leave her alone. She’s obviously not interested.” An older looking guy with spiked up gray and white hair steps in and chases the guy off. He turns to me and rolls his eyes. “The nerve of some people. Are you okay? You looked a little anxious and I wanted to make sure you felt safe. Name’s Joe by the way!” He asks with concern riddling his face. I couldn’t speak, my voice felt trapped in my throat and everything around me began overloading all my senses until my legs gave out and I was left on the floor shaking feeling helpless.

Immediately Joe sprung into action dropping to his knees next to me and supporting me up so I didn’t fall back any more. He looks around to the oblivious crowd that felt like walls closing in on me.

“Hey! Hey! Give her some space, back up!” He waves his hands gathering everyone’s attention. The crowd turns to me and immediately part to create a circle of space and safety around me. I hugged all my limbs in tight close to me, I looked around frightened as tears tracked down my face. I felt mortified, I was making a huge scene. “Okay, take a moment breathe, I know someone who can help. Q! get your ass over here, got a situation!” He rests his hands on my shoulder to stable me and it felt warm and I felt solace in it.

l had sealed my eyes shut trying to block out the overwhelming number of faces and eyes on me. When I opened them and looked up again, another guy with short salt and pepper hair, a scruffy beard and mustache, and sleepy looking eyes steps into the ring. I assume he’s Q. He kneels down next to Joe and in front of me. They start talking to each other and I can’t quite make out what they’re saying, but they both occasionally look over to me so I assume Joe is filling him in on my unfortunate circumstance. Once they’re done talking, they both redirect their attention back to me.

“It’s okay, he was a firefighter, he knows how to help.”

“Hey, not trying to be a wise ass but you’re having an anxiety attack right now. What we need to try first is steady your breathing, okay? Take in a slow deep breath through your nostrils, hold it for a couple of seconds, then slowly exhale through your mouth. Let’s do it together.” He removes his jacket and places it on me as he speaks in a calm tone, his eyes never leaving mine. He begins the exercise and I follow as he does, I felt tension inside me slowly begin to release. Joe never left my side through the whole process, he speaks calmly repeating over and over “steady, steady. you’re doing great.” and other sweet messages as he lightly rubs up and down my back providing father like comfort to me.

“Okay, now that you’re breathing is a little more steady, let’s get you grounded. Tell me some of your favorite things, anything. A place, colors, flowers, just keep going okay. It’ll help distract your mind.” I nod as I was finally able to catch my breath.

“Carnations are my favorite flower... I love spring time... Royal blue is my favorite color with lavender being right under it... My favorite animal is a jellyfish because they look pretty...” I continue listing things and it helps take my mind off of everything that just happened as I try and think of the next thing to add to my list. Soon the sense of panic that was pounding in my chest eased away. The moment I feel 100% better again, I finish off my list. Q smiles to me and so does Joe.

“You did great. Are you feeling well enough to get back up on your feet?” He outstretches his hand and I take his hand. He lifts me back up to my feet and he walks me over to the bar. Everyone else around us went about their business as though I didn’t freak out at all. “Maybe stay away from alcohol for the rest of the night, stick to water. Sal! A water for the pretty lady!” Joe slides a small stack of napkins to me.

“I’m not trying to be rude sweetie, you just cried a bit and I want you to be able to touch yourself up.” He gives a soft smile. I take the napkins and wipe up underneath my eyes. When I look at the napkins I see all my makeup wiped up on it, most of which was some mascara that seemed to stream off my eyes. Sal places a glass of water in front of me and looks me in my eyes with the same look of concern Joe and Q had given me during my break down.

“Where’d your friends go? You doing okay?” He asked leaning over the bar.

“Don’t know where they are, but I think I made some new ones.” I say smiling to the men that surrounded me. “Thanks for helping me out, I don’t even know what happened.”

“It was the right thing to do, I wasn’t gonna let some random guy harass a woman who was clearly not comfortable with him. I’d be pissed if someone did that to my wife or daughter.” Joe says with a slight twinge of anger in that last sentence.

“You needed help, and it’s nothing to be ashamed of. We all need a little help sometimes.” Q says raising his own glass of water to his statement. I smile and awkwardly chuckle as I raise my glass with him.

The rest of my night was spent with Joe, Q, and Sal (when he wasn’t serving drinks). We talked the whole night away about why I ended up on a trip to New York, I talked about my home town and they talked about Staten Island being theirs, and childhood stories and tales from adulthood were shared as well. It was simple, sober, clean fun. It was all I really wanted from tonight.

Joe eventually left to go home, I bid him farewell and gave him a great big hug. Q and I were left at the bar to continue chatting away, and I gotta say, he was really charming and dare I say kind of cute. We laughed together for what felt like forever and I didn’t want it to end. To think, just an hour or so ago, I just wanted to be in the hotel bed watching shitty movies by myself. All good things must come to an end though, as it started getting a little late, my eyes grew a bit heavy. It eventually became too much to ignore and it wasn’t in my agenda to fall asleep in a bar I just had an anxiety attack in.

“I think I should head back to my hotel room and call it a night. That anxiety attack really wiped me out.” I let out a small yawn.

“Let me drive you back then, I don’t want you taking a cab alone or walking the streets this late at night.”

“You’re not like an axe murderer are you?” I joke with him.

“No I am not. I’m too stupid to get away with murder anyway.” He retorts back.

“Well I just don’t want you going out of your way...” I felt bad, I had burdened him enough with having to deal with my anxiety debacle.

“It’s no problem, let’s get you the hell out of here.” We both say our good bye’s too Sal and head out to find Q’s car. We finally stumble upon the cherry red jeep and I feel surprised to see it. “Are you judging my vehicle choice?” He cocks his eyebrows and smiles.

“It’s just such a loud color for such a seemingly calm and soft guy.” I tease. We hop in and headed out on the road. It was a short ride but it also felt long because of how tired I was. I leaned against the frame of the window, resting my head feeling the sleepiness slowly starting to take more and more control. Q tried helping me out by blasting some up beat music and giving me a special performance by singing along to all the tracks. He was just too cute.

When we reached the hotel, he parked the car and hopped out with me and took his time to walk me all the way back to my room. It’s small gestures that mean the world to me and that show that someone cares, and Q was clearly someone who cares. It felt crazy and in my head all I wanted to spend more time with him. We reach the front of my door and I turn to him and smile as I rub the sleep from my eyes trying to stay coherent for just a little longer.

“I can’t thank you enough for tonight.” I say bashfully as I hug my arms around my body. It was then I remembered something: “Oh my god, i’m sorry I still have your jacket!” I start frantically removing it but he stops me.

“Keep it for now, gives me an excuse to see you again. Which, speaking of...” He brings his phone out from his pocket and hands it to me. “If you don’t mind, i’d love to get to talk to you more and maybe see you again while you’re here. I had a great time tonight.” I gladly take his phone and input all my information. I see as he watches with a big grin on his face. I hand him back his phone and unlock my room door.

“Thank you again, Q.” I say softly. I caress his face and bring it in placing a tiny kiss on his cheek.

“Not even on the lips?” He jokes.

“Give’s you something to look forward to.” I wink at him and I see his face tint pink. “Get home safely.” I say as I begin to retreat into the room.

“I’ll message you tomorrow. Good night!” We both smile to each other and I head inside. I cover my face with my hands, smiling into them as my heart explodes with joy. I throw myself onto the bed and stare at the ceiling as fireworks go off in my head. For such a shitty night, it was the best i’ve had in a while.