#they didn’t like introduce him or anything they didn’t mention him at AL

[moshpitpuppyx]

btw had a dream last night where gabe showed up to the show yesterday but he literally didn’t do anything he just kinda came on stage and sat there criss cross applesauce while fob played their set

[mynameismckenziemae]

Aint No Sunshine When She’s Gone-Chapter I

Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x Female Reader (no use of y/n)

You (Sunny) help your Aunt Penny out at the bar and are introduced to sweet, shy Bob by an old friend.

(Next chapter here)

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, handjob (m receiving), premature ejaculation, mentions of sexual harassment. Let me know if I missed anything.

Yep, Penny was right, you think as you roll through the parking lot, trying to find an open spot. The Hard Deck is packed.

You sigh as you shift your car into park. You were exhausted, but you knew Penny needed the help.

______________________________________________

*30 minutes earlier*

You were walking up the stairs to your apartment Penny’s garage as she was hurrying to her car.

“Where’s the fire?” You call. “Oh, hey! Jack called, I’m heading to the bar early—the new hire didn’t show and a carrier docked, so it’s a full house. I’ll see ya later, hon!”

“Do you want some help?” You offered. Bartending was the last thing you wanted to do tonight, but your Aunt Penny had done so much for you the past few years, it was the least you could do.

“Uhhh, yeah, that would be great. Maybe just ‘til 7 when Ashley comes? Are you sure though? I know you’re exhausted”.

You were exhausted. “No problem at all, let me just change and I’ll be on my way”.

“You’re a lifesaver, see you soon!”

_______________________________________________

You’d changed out of your scrubs into a pair of jean shorts and a plain black tee and here you were.

Let’s get this over with, you think with a sigh and open your car door.

_______________________________________________

“No, the blue one at the bottom, a little lower,” you hear the jerk behind you smile. “Yeah, actually grab me one from the way back so I know it’s cold. A little farther… ” he leers.

Alright, that’s enough. You rise, turn, and grab the $20 he laid on the bar. You pop the top and take a nice pull as you ring the bell. “Thanks for the beer. Now get out.”

“Excuse me?! You fucking bitc—“ he starts, but is interrupted by a heavy hand on his shoulder.

“Do we have a problem here?” Asks a thick-mustached aviator.

“Uhh, nope. I was just heading out. Have a good night” the jerk says, scurrying away with his friends.

“Bradley Bradshaw, long time no see” You smile, boosting yourself on the bottom shelf to hug him across the bar. “Thanks for that, by the way”.

You and Bradley had known each other since you were kids; your dads served together and your family remained close after Goose died. He was a few years older, something you never let him forget.

“No problem, you had it handled, I just wanted his seat. You look great.” He takes the now vacant spot. “What are you doing here? UCSD finally figured out you don’t know what you’re doing and fired ya?” He jokes, knowing you were at the top of your nursing class.

“Ha! No, I’m still there in the ER. Currently taking the flight nurse course though. Penny’s new hire didn’t show, and it was slammed, so I offered to help” you reply.

“Got tired of watching us flying and decided it was your turn?” Hangman says, pushing his way through to the bar to sit beside Bradley.

“Something like that” you smile, kissing his cheek. “Good to see you, Hangman”.

“Same, sweetheart. We just got back today, 4 months is way too long to be stuck on a boat.” Jake complains. You agree, there’s no way you could do that.

“Where’s dickhead?” Bradley asks, sipping his beer.

“You mean Derek? Back in Minnesota with his new girlfriend. Caught them in my bed after a 12-hour shift” You reply, sliding Jake a beer.

“Seriously? What a piece of shit. You’re better off. Never liked that fucker any way” Bradley mutters.

“Me either” Jake agrees.

“Honestly, I’m not sure I did either” you laugh. It was great in the beginning, but he was insecure and jealous; always accusing you of being unfaithful. You naturally were a bubbly, friendly person, but he was constantly berating for you for flirting and it had taken a toll on you. Always worrying that he was watching you and knowing he’d yell at you later for it, you started over analyzing everything and became a shell of the woman you’d been. When you’d moved across the country 9 months ago to live with Penny to complete the training for your dream job, it only got worse. He had moved out to be with you and not 2 months later you found him cheating. Dickhead indeed.

"You’ve always looked great honey, but you look lighter, happier; like your old self again. No wonder someone over by the pool table can’t take his eyes off ya" Jake winks.

You glance behind him and make eye contact with another khaki uniform. Deep blue eyes behind BCGs (birth control glasses), light brown hair, sinewy arms. You smile, which he returns, but quickly looks down, blushing.

“Tell me about him. I take it he’s shy?”

“Name’s Bob. Yeah, he’s shy. I don’t think I’ve seen him talk to a girl besides ‘Nix. He’s her new backseater, just moved out here before we sailed. He’s really fucking smart. From the Midwest, like you. All around good guy.” Bradley responds.

Someone starts shouting their order. “I better get back to it. I’ll be done around 7, wanna catch up?”

They nod, “We’ll be by the pool table whenever you’re ready.” Jake replies.

________________________________________

The bar is finally caught up a little after 7. You sneak into the employee bathroom to touch up your makeup and let your hair down from the clip you threw in. Taking a deep breath, you open the door and head out.

________________________________________

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes!” Natasha says with a hug “How are ya?”

“Good “n you?” You reply, Minnesota accent slipping out.

“Good, happy to be stateside again. Hey, this is Bob, my new backseater.” Nat introduces you. “Bob, this is Sunny.”

“Nice to meet you Bob” you smile, shaking his hand.

“Uh yeah, likewise” he stammers, blushing again. “Is Sunny your real name? Or is it short for something?

“No, my real name is actually Aelia.” You cringe. “It means sunshine. But no one ever said it right, so my dad started calling me Sunny and it stuck. Is Bob short for anything?” You tease.

“Yeah, Big Ol’ Balls!” Bradley comes up behind him and squeezes his shoulders. Bob’s blush depends. “I’ve known Sunny here since she was in diapers, her old man was a wizzo too.”

You nod. “Yeah, my mom made him quit shortly after I came along though. He’s a commercial pilot now.”

You ask Bob a lot of questions, and he eventually starts to relax. You find out he grew up in a small town just a few hours away from you, is the middle child between an older brother and younger sister, and has a 3 legged golden retriever named Steve that he adores.

“Why the name Steve? You laugh as he shows you a picture of them both smiling at the beach. Steve is adorable, but Bob’s defined arms in the cutoff definitely got your attention.

He laughs too. “Not my choice, his previous owners named him that. They left him at the vet when he got hit by a car and his leg had to be amputated. I adopted him shortly after and didn’t want to stress him out more by changing it”.

Your heart melts. “That’s so sweet, who has him when you’re deployed?”

“My sister and her family live in Redlands and thankfully are happy to take him. I texted her that I was back in town and would come get him, but I got a picture back that the kids were planning on camping in the living room with him tonight—even had a sleeping bag set up in the middle for him, so I said I’d just pick him up tomorrow.” He smiled. You might as well be a puddle. How is he single?

“I wanted a dog since I moved out here, but my ex was allergic. I was thinking about looking into adopting once I finish my flight nursing courses, but we’ll see.”

“You should meet Steve. He’d love you.” Bob says quietly. It’s getting busier, you can hardly hear him.

“I’d like that” you lean to whisper in his ear, “Do you wanna walk the beach? It’s getting loud in here.”

He gulps but nods.

You grab his hand and lead him through the crowd, jutting your chin to the door, mouthing “Heading outside, it’s too loud” to Bradley.

“Sure” he mouths back, winking. You roll your eyes and continue towards the exit.

________________________________________

You keep your hand in his as you wander down the beach, eventually sitting once the noise of the bar isn’t so oppressive.

Bob breaks the comfortable silence a few minutes later. “I…I’m not good at this. Talking to women, dating, all that. If I don’t talk, I’m awkward. When I do talk, I’m awkward. I like you, Sunny. You’re sweet, smart and funny. You listen when I talk, and you’re so damn pretty, I couldn’t—can’t keep my eyes off you, I don’t want to mess this up—“ You stop his rambling by pressing your lips to his.

He freezes, but you murmur against his lips. “I like you too.” Suddenly he’s kissing you back with vigor. You lick the seam of his lips and he groans. Fuck, that sound. You want to hear it again and again.

You pull away, trying to slow down. “Will you take me out?” You ask, a little breathlessly.

“Yeah? Yeah, I’d love to. What are you doing tomorrow?” He asks, straightening his crooked glasses. God, he’s cute.

“Not a thing. I finally have a weekend off.” You reply.

“I’m gonna pick up Steve around 11. Can I take out you out after?”

“Perfect. I’ll give you my number. Will you walk me to my car?”

He nods and pushes to his feet before pulling you up next.

________________________________________

“I’ll pick you up from Penny’s around noon then? Bob asks, opening your door for you.

“Can’t wait.” You give him a quick peck, pulling back before you go carried away again.

“You know your cunt of a girlfriend stole $20 from me?” You startle as the jerk from earlier walked out from behind your car.

You could feel Bob’s entire demeanor change. “What did you just call her?”

The asshole shrinks as Bob stands to his full height.

“Nothing, I—“ he tries to backtrack, realizing he fucked up.

“Apologize and leave. And if I ever see you here again, you’ll regret it.” Bob interrupts.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that, I’ll uh… I’ll leave you to it,” he says as he scurries away. Again. Pussy.

“I’m sorry about that. I’m gonna follow you home, alright? You oka…?” He trails off as you move around the car door, bumping it closed with your hip.

“That…was so fucking hot,” you whisper as you fist his shirt and pull him to you. Pressing your front against his, you kiss a line from his jaw to his ear. “Too bad this we just met tonight. Because I want nothing more than to get on my knees and show you my gratitude.” His cock twitches against your stomach.

“Oh, ha, uhhh…you don’t, I mean you wouldn’t have to do that“ Bob stutters.

You push him against your car and kiss him again. His hands go to your hips, while yours slide down his chest, over his nipples (to which he inhales sharply), and across his stomach. You grip his hip with your left as you lower your hand to rub the length of him with the heel of his palm. Fuck he’s big.

He lurches with a startled groan. And so receptive.

You are burning up. He’s such a good kisser. His big hands are gripping your hips so tightly. The way he went from shy and reserved to defending your honor with a quiet, cool confidence. You palm him a little faster.

Bob breaks your kiss with a pant, “Sunny, I…”

“You…?” You continue for him, kissing and nipping at his neck, you can feel the precum leaking through his pants.

“I, uhh…I’m—“ he tries to continue, but you suck his pulse point. He releases your hip to grab your hand, but it’s too late. “Fuckkkkk, Sunny. I’m cumming”.

You feel him pulse against your hand. He’s breathing heavily and you can tell he’s mortified, but you are soaked. “I’m sorry, I’ve—“

You pull back from his neck to look him in the eye., bringing your damp fingers to your lips.

"No need to be sorry, Bob. That was so..." you lick up one finger, “fucking..." lick down the next, "sexy" and suck them in into your mouth, like you wish you could to his cock.

Bob’s eyes widen and he shudders. You step back and get in the car.

He takes a deep breath and turns to you, trying (but failing) to hide the wet spot. Oh, you were going to wreck him.

“I’ll follow you to Penny’s to make sure you get in okay, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You nod. “Thank you again. Goodnight Bob.”

“Night, Sun”.

________________________________________

[hollybee8917]

Blueprint for Romance

Chapter 1: Sparks on the Fourth of July

Characters: Chris Evans, Bekah Baker (OFC)

Plot: Chris, an actor, meets Bekah, an architect, and falls faster for her than he does for anyone else.

Word count: 2321

Warnings for this chapter: Language

A/N: Big thanks to @joannaliceevans-fanficblog and @cevansbaby-dove for proofing this! Y'all are awesome!

“Hey, Chris! Come on back, man!”

Chris Evans stepped through the gate and grabbed his buddy Jason’s hand and pulled him into a hug, “Thanks for inviting me.”

Jason nodded, “Of course! The party is just starting. Tara, Carly and Ryan are in the back with the kids. Your mom pulled got here about five minutes ago with Shanna. Lisa is currently talking to Tara’s parents. My parents should be here soon. There are a bunch of other people coming too.”

Chris nodded and made his way to the backyard. Music was playing and the kids were splashing in the pool. Carly waved, “Chris! I’m so glad you finally got here! Tara has a story to tell you!”

He laughed and grabbed a beer from the cooler. Tara began her story but Chris didn’t really listen. Zach Jarvis, Jon Leonard, Mark King and their families all wandered through the gate and with each arrival, Chris’ face fell a little more.

“Hey, you okay?” Tara wrapped an arm around Chris and he returned the gesture.

The actor sighed, “Yeah. I just… Sorry, it’s a bit ridiculous.”

The woman shook her head, “Not at all. I know it’s hard seeing everyone so happy. You’ll get there one day.”

Chris could only exhale lightly. Tara hugged him once more, “You wanna talk about it?”

“Not really. I’m gonna go get another beer. You might wanna keep an eye on Winnie. She’s about to go jump in the deep end and I know she doesn’t know how to swim yet.”

“Oh shit.” Tara turned and ran toward her young daughter.

Chris laughed as he watched Tara grab her child. Isaac Harden approached him and handed him a Stella Artois. Isaac smiled sheepishly, “Hey man, I hope you don’t mind but my fiancée invited a friend to come. I ran it by Jason and Tara and they said it was okay. Just wanted to give you a head’s up. I doubt she will cause any trouble but just in case, do you want me to keep her away?”

“No, it’s okay.”

The friend tilted his head, “I hear she’s cute. And single.”

A scoff escaped Chris, “Is that why Alaina invited her? Is it a set up?”

Isaac laughed, “Naw man. I wouldn’t do that to you. That’s some shit Jon or Kath would do. The friend’s name is Bekah.”

Chris shrugged, “Okay. So?”

With a sniff, Isaac replied, “I haven’t met the girl before but Alaina says she’s gorgeous and sweet. She also says that Bekah has like 7 properties around the world.”

Cocking an eyebrow, Chris bit back, “You think that impresses me?”

“Did I mention that she has a master’s in architecture from Oxford University? Alaina tells me that Bekah is amazing. I haven’t seen it yet though. Whenever she gets here, I’ll have Alaina introduce you to her.”

“Whatever. I’m gonna grab some food. You want anything?”

Isaac shook his head, “I’m good right now.”

Chris nodded and made his way into the house where people were milling about the table grabbing food. His mother pulled him aside, “You okay, baby boy? You seem a bit down.”

“I’m fine, Ma. I’m just hungry. You want anything?”

Lisa replied, “I’m okay. I’ve been snacking a little bit here and there.”

He smiled back at her, “Once I have a little food, I’m going to head back outside.”

“Okay baby.”

He walked around the table and piled his plate full of cheese, crackers, fruit salad and a couple of sandwiches. Then he went back outside to mingle,

Chris was sipping on his drink and talking to she walked through the gate. He stopped mid-sentence and could only stare. Her chestnut hair was pulled back into a high ponytail and the sunlight made her green eyes shine. She was a bit taller, maybe five foot and seven inches tall and lean. In her hands, she held a twelve pack of Stella Artois beer, a container of homemade cookies and a bottle of wine. Alaina greeted her and her smile took Chris’ breath away.

The woman wore a light red and white sundress with a polka dot ribbon in her hair and white flats. Her sun kissed skin perfectly contrasted with the shade of red in the dress. Things started to grow dark for Chris and he realized he had been holding his breath. Now, though, he couldn’t start letting air into his lungs. The actor started to tilt.

“Chris!”

As he hit the ground, he felt his nose being pinched closed and air being pushed into his lungs. Slowly he took a deep breath then began to cough. His eyes opened and he saw her leaning over him. He sat up and tried to catch his breath. Lisa sat down next to her son, “Are you okay, Chris?”

With a gentle smile, the woman before him said, “Easy. Your lungs are hungry for air. Take slow deep breaths.”

The woman’s voice was soft and melodic, “Hi Chris. I’m Bekah.”

He slowed his breathing, “Thank you, Bekah.”

Jason extended his hand and helped Chris to his feet, “You scared us pal.”

Bekah stepped back, “You are feeling okay?”

Chris gulped slightly, “I’m better now. Thank you for helping me.”

She smiled again, “Of course. Take some water. I would slow down on the beer. Just my recommendation.”

Then she walked away. Chris’ eyes followed her the entire way. Tara tilted her head and looked up at her best friend, “I think she’s the one, Chris. Go talk to her.”

“It’s embarrassing. I just passed out in front of her, Tara. There’s no way that she’d ever consider me.”

His best friend of over twenty years bit back, “Just give her a try. You never know. I saw how she looked at you. She’s interested.”

“Not after what just happened.”

“Give her a fucking chance, Chris.”

“Honey,” Lisa broke in, “She’s glancing at you. I don’t think it’s out of concern either. She seems curious and interested. Go talk to her.”

Reluctantly, Chris looked over to where Bekah was sitting. His eyes met hers and he dipped his chin as if he was asking permission to approach her. Bekah tilted her head with a smile and nodded.

The actor made his way over to the brunette and she motioned for him to sit down, “I was talking to your friend about your time in the theater. I’m a bit of a thespian myself. Were you more musical or non-musical?”

Chris bit his lip, “I was more into musicals. You did theater too? What plays did you do?”

Bekah laughed again, a melodic sound, “It’s easier to say what plays I didn’t do. Honestly, I didn’t do a whole lot of theater. I was too busy with my acting career.”

“Acting career? I thought you were an architect.”

Bekah glanced away for half a second then focused her attention back to Chris, “I’m an architect now but I did some acting from the ages of eight to fifteen.”

Leaning back, Chris scratched his cheek, “Anything I might have heard of?”

A short pause filled the air then Bekah waved her hand, “Oh just small things. My first gig was a reoccurring role on a little show called 7th Heaven.”

“No shit? I knew someone on that show. And that’s not exactly a little show.”

“Yeah, I know. You dated Jessica Biel for five years. A couple of those years, I was on the show. It’s a small world because Jessica is a good friend of mine. Or she used to be before she went off her rocker with the anti-vax stuff.”

Chris let loose a long laugh and Bekah joined in, “I’m kidding of course. Jess is a great person and a good friend.”

The man beside her stood, “Do you want anything to drink? I’m gonna go grab me a beer.”

Bekah followed his lead and stood up, “I’ll join you. I could use a Stella right now.”

As the pair approached the cooler, Chris turned to Bekah, “So what other ‘small’ things have you done because I doubt they’re small.”

The woman beside him rubbed the back of her neck, “A cult following series called Harry Potter, a fantasy trilogy no one has heard of called Lord of the Rings and a little known sci-fi movie called Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith.”

Chris all but dropped his beer, “Say again? Those aren’t small things!”

“Oh and I did this silly little superhero film starring some guy named Chris Evans as the Human Torch. I can’t quite remember the name of it. The Incredible Quad? The Fabulous Foursome?”

“The Fantastic Four.” Chris cocked an eyebrow in amusement.

She smiled broadly at him, “That’s it! I never had any scenes with the guy but I hear he’s lovely to work with.”

Chris smirked, “I wouldn’t know.”

Retreating back to the shade of the trees, Chris and Bekah sat at a small table that had been set up for the party. As they talked, Chris found himself completely enamored with this girl. She made him laugh so easily and it was obvious that she may be interested in him so he pushed a little further, “So why did you quit acting?”

Bekah sighed, “Honestly, I was tired of the lights and the cameras and the exposure. I went to my parents when I was sixteen and told them I was tired of the limelight. I didn’t want to be a child actress anymore. They accepted it with grace. I was about to graduate high school so I wanted to focus on other things like college and relationships that were crumbling.”

“You graduated high school at sixteen? And you went to college after?”

“I did. But I feel like we are talking too much about me. I want to know more about you.”

Chris shuddered a bit, “My life isn’t all that interesting.”

“Nonsense. I’m sure over your twenty plus years of acting, you have seen and experienced some stuff. What is the most exciting place you have filmed?”

The actor leaned back and raised the bottle to his lips, “I filmed in Costa Rica once. South Africa and Namibia were cool too when I went there. As for most exciting? I would probably say filming in Costa Rica. How about you?”

“Oh, most definitely New Zealand. I went to a set in Auckland and shot on a green screen. I also went with a couple of others to the area of the Shire. It was beautiful. I have filmed in London as well and that’s quite the city. If you have to pick a comfort character that you have portrayed, who would it be?”

Rolling his eyes to the sky in thought, Chris thought a moment then answered, “I know the most logical answer is going to be Steve Rogers but as my comfort character, he doesn’t quite make the cut. If I really had to choose? Fuck, that’s really hard. Hmmm. I’ll have to think about that. What about you?”

Bekah opened her mouth to reply but her phone rang. Glancing down at it, she threw Chris an apologetic glance, “I’m so sorry. I have to take this.”

As she walked away, Chris heard her say, “Hallo, das ist Frau Baker. Was brauchen Sie?”

Chris sat in shock unable to comprehend the fact the woman knew German. Tara and Lisa wandered over. Plopping down in the vacated seat, Tara smirked, “So, how’s it going?”

The man looked between his best friend and his mother, “She speaks German.”

Lisa spoke up, "Well, that's new. You’ve never been with a girl who knows German before."

Tara gasped "Chris, she's amazing! You have to ask her out."

He looked over to the side of the yard where Bekah was speaking animatedly on her phone. Tara poked him, “Earth to Chris. Pay attention to us.”

Lisa shot Tara a look, “Take it easy. He’s obviously interested in her. He just needs time.”

Tara made a face, stood and walked away. Chris turned to his mother, “Do you think I actually have a chance with this one?”

His mother put her hand on his arm, “It will only happen if you make it happen. Whether or not you have a chance is up only to you.”

Bekah returned to the table just as Chris was about to respond to his mother. With a smile, she addressed Chris and Lisa, “I’m sorry for interrupting but I just wanted to say how lovely it was to meet you both. I’m afraid I have to dash. I wish I could stay for the fireworks but something has come up with my Germany office. I have to leave in the morning to handle it.”

The older woman returned the smile, “It was nice to meet you too. I hope we see each other again.”

But Chris stayed silent. Lisa prodded him in the ribs and he yelped. Bekah’s lips twitched for half a second, “I hope so too.”

She turned and wandered over to Jason and Tara where she said her goodbyes. As she walked to the gate, Lisa poked Chris again, “If you don’t do it now, you’ll never know.”

He jumped to his feet and followed Bekah around the house, “Bekah, wait.”

She turned and almost hopeful asked, “Yes?”

“I wondered if you would like to go on a date.”

A wide grin spread across her face, “With you? Sure.”

“Great! Um, when?”

Bekah tightened her ponytail, “How about Friday of next week?”

“That sounds amazing. Do you wanna do dinner or..”

“Dinner sounds wonderful.”

His heart soared, “I’ll see you then.”

Bekah tilted her head, “Hand me your phone.”

“Why?”

“How else will you get ahold of me, silly?”

Feeling a hundred feet tall, Chris did so and Bekah input her information. As she turned to her car she stated, “I like pizza.”

[annislittleshopofhorrors]

Here’s a little perspective on real RS, real RS with PR and PR RS.

REAL RS (and them being private) If they were in a real relationship and were being private, we would have not got all the manipulation and games we’ve been having for the past year and a half. They would have probably not even followed each other on IG. Chris would have not followed Justin to lead fans to see his trolling. Justin would have not been allowed to post anything connecting to him. They wouldn’t have drum up the announcement with fake Broadway’s night out, a comment on IG, a papwalk and an article in People mag. They would have one day showed up together at a premiere or event and announced maybe they’re engage or even married. We would have not gotten video and pics dump like they did. They could also be private (not secretive) by just playing it like any normal couple play it on social media: pictures of them together and likes here and there and partially show their RS in real time. Not dumps with pics of the last year to prove a timeline, followed by numerous articles.

REAL RS with PR If they were in a real RS with PR, they would have used PR. They’re not. Using PR would have meant him promoting her show, her promoting his movie. They would have attended multiple events to show themselves, being private or not. He wouldn’t be ashamed to walk the red carpet of a movie premiere with her. He would not hide her. If you’re in a safe and secure relationship, you don’t hide. We would have got a lot more “organic sightings” (arranged or not). Everything we’re getting is highly manufactured and curated. He didn’t allow any questions about his RS in the Ghosted promo tour. He never mentioned her anywhere (not even writing her name on his famous dumps).

PR RS Anyone ever wondered how they met? We were in the middle of the pandemic. She wasn’t allowed to come to the US. There were no social events, or premieres to attend where they could have been introduced. They didn’t meet on set. The genesis of it all is some sort of arrangement between either a studio (or streaming service, a lot of people think Netflix has to do with it), agents, publicists, producers. We don’t know. And we’ll never know what he’s getting out of this cause it’s not gonna be revealed publicly. We can only assume. One thing for sure is, he’s clearly afraid of the optic of this RS (because of the age difference, the fact she looks even younger, her raunchy filmography, her racists things and friends). Was all this fully vetted before he got into this? Who knows? But now he’s showing he’s not comfortable with this. When you compare to Seb and Ale, he’s not going all in. Does it serve the “he’s private” narrative? Yes. But if he was really private, why the leaked WDW family pictures? Her friends showing they’re at his house? The constant inorganic, manufactured content? The announcement dropping the day her show premieres. This RS only revolves around likes and follows and occasional pictures on IG. You call that a RS? And I’m not even talking about all the things that were discussed on Tumblr to later be “proven” by them. They lurk and wants to shove this RS down the fandom throat.

As for is she trolling with her IG? My answer is: yes. She used to post a lot more and since this RS was revealed, she almost stopped. Like Nancy said, she’s easy to goad and they quickly realized she couldn’t be trusted. Now what we’re getting? Only things that relates to him or adjacent: follows of things he already does, likes and comments on some of his friends and family account, the use of a VPN to hide her location. Again, if they were in a safe and secure relationship, she wouldn’t have to prove it’s serious. She would post content of her spending time with her friends and family in PT, cause you don’t care what people say, and you can spend some times away from your BF from time to time. She would show she has a life of her own outside this RS. Now she hides her true self cause they have to sell a narrative that she’s spending all her time with him.

There are actually more examples. Like the VDay post, if you are a private couple why posting these things? if you are real and use PR why waiting so long to post it...

[fancyfeathers]

Society of Protection (Yandere Bungo Stray Dogs x reader x original characters) (normalized yandere au)

Chapter Eight

A Doll’s House

Prologue and oc intro

Chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Chapter six

Chapter seven, part one

Chapter seven, part two

Tw: this chapter has mentioned of implied r*pe/noncon, please do NOT ask me to write that scene because I don’t feel comfortable doing it, it is mentioned purely to show the severity of a toxic relationship

Everyone sat in a stunned silence, it was like if static filled all your ears. All you can do is watch as Fitzgerald holds Miss Jane’s chin in his hand, staring at her. Then he retracts his hand, tucking them into his pockets, leaving Jane with a horrified look on her face. He walked around the room, looking it all over. “Beautiful place you have made for yourself, Zelda. How much did it cost? Ten million I would guess.” Miss Jane didn’t respond, to terrified to say a word. He gave a whistle before walking behind her and resting his hands on her shoulders, rubbing out the tense muscles like they were still married. “Have to hand it to you, it was nearly impossible to find you all here, records wise you have completely covered up your tracks.”

“H-how… how did you find us?” Miss Jane asked, her gaze fixed on the floor where the tea cup she dropped lays, broken in pieces.  Fitzgerald chuckled as he pressed his fingers into her shoulder rather hard making her suck in a sharp breath. 

“It wasn’t easy, but your biggest mistake was scheduling that meeting with whoever that government official was, those are in public records you know.” He gestured to a young man who had come in with him. “Luckily Mark’s shots never miss, even with tracking bullets.”

Both you, Gaston, and Dr. Stevenson had a shocked expression come across your faces. the red head who Fitzgerald had introduced as Mark comes up to your side and squatted down to your level, a smile on his face like absolutely nothing was wrong. “Sorry about that, I was aiming at your friend, I mean he has caused quite a few problems for us.” He laughed to himself before reaching up and pinching your cheek. “But hey don’t worry, I get to take care of you once we get y’all back to base.”

Your eyes widened in horror as Mark said that, and you looked over and so did Miss Jane’s. Almost on instinct she stood up, breaking free from Fitzgerald’s grip on her shoulders. She spun around, raising her hand and striking her ex husband across the face. Now a scowl had formed on her face, she was raging. “I don’t care what you do to me, but you will not touch them!”

The room sat in silence once more. Fitzgerald’s head was turned to one side from the force of the slap, a red hand print forming on his cheek. He turned his head back at Jane, his face no longer a smile. He reached a hand and grabbed the hand that rested on her chest, the same hand that slapped him.  He yanked her over, almost pulling her over the chair she once sat in. So she was pulled up onto the chair so that she was on her knees in it, her chest against the back of it, and her face not to far below his and he bent down and grabbed her face again with his free hand. If looked could kill Jane would be dead. “I want you to listen to me, Zelda. After that stunt you pulled three years ago, I don’t care much for your opinion. I offered you a safe choice, but you refused so now we do this the hard way. John, if you’d please.”

The blond young man, the same from your shop stepped forward, he gave you a wink, which disgusted you. He took out a few seed from his pocket, seeds he bought from your old shop, then he took a hunting knife, stabbed himself in the neck and tucked the seeds in his neck. While he was doing this, Victor and Alexandre who knew his ability, went to reach for their guns, but right when they got them vines extended from his neck, reaching out and wrapping around their hands and guns, preventing them from doing anything. The vines reached out and also wrapped around Dr. Stevenson, and Gaston, leaving you and Jane the only ones untouched by them, you because you couldn’t run even if you tried and Jane because well… she’s Fitzgerald’s to deal with.

Everyone struggled but no one was able to break free, Dr. Stevenson couldn’t even activate her ability because she was already vulnerable and Alexandre couldn’t either because that would cause a bloodbath in here of both friend and foe alike. Jane’s eyes made contact with Gaston and she nodded and spoke not one word but they knew what each other were saying. With tears in his eyes Gaston took a breath and his body disappeared into the floor beneath him, like a ghost. The Guild and yourself were in shock and Miss Jane’s eyes went back to Fitzgerald. “Gaston’s ability, you’ll never catch him.”

Fitzgerald scowled and bit back. “Would you place money on that?”

“You know I hate gambling.”

—————————

Gaston was able to use his gift to go through the solid walls and ceiling of the building, down into the sewer system below Yokohama, it wasn’t hard to navigate, just like the catacombs under Paris, where he grew up. Paris, not the catacombs, but they were just a package deal. Gaston contacted the only two members of the Society that weren’t in the apartment at the time of the break in, Lewis Carroll and Henrik Ibsen, both of which were out on a mission together. Gaston told them of the harm that befell everyone and told him to meet them at the safe house. In true showmen fashion this safe house was a theater that Gaston purchased under the pen name, Erik. Now it was the three of them in private box five of the theater, discussing while rehearsals went on. Henrik looked absolutely terrified out of his mind while Lewis and Gaston discussed strategies for getting everyone out.

“I could activate my ability and whoever drank the potion would be effected.” 

“Yes but we don’t know who has drank it or if it has been taken from their person. We also don’t know exactly where they are so we would have no idea where to get them.”

“We could use that government agent friend of yours, the one in the ministry of justice.”

“Mr. Tonan is a politician, not a fighter I’m afraid.”

“What about-“

“Um… excuse me…” Henrik spoke up in his timid little voice, hands folder on his lap, looking down, and trembling. “What if we use my ability?”

“…hm…” Lewis stared at his co worker with calculating eyes before tilting his head. “What’s your ability again?”

“You mean you forgot?! Lewis we’re on practically every mission together, we’re partners!” Henrik yelled at his co worker, embarrassed that he forgot about his ability. He sighs and leans in his chair. “It’s called Doll’s House. I can make a doll, and who ever I make it look like I can control, puppeteer. I can’t exactly control what they say or think but their limbs I can.”

“Wonderful! Where are you dolls?” Lewis asked with a grin. An awkward expression came across Henrik’s face and he sunk back into his chair and he nervously chuckled.

“My doll house is back in my apartment…”

“So we’re fucked.” Lewis groaned and leaned back as well. Gaston leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, a calculating look on his face, he looked at Henrik dead in the eye.

“Maybe you don’t need your doll house. I’ll make a call…” Gaston stood up and took out his phone, flipping it open and dialing up a number. “Let’s pray the Armed Detective Agency is willing to help.”

—————————

You all were taken up town, all in separate vehicles to keep all of you from getting ideas, you were being taken to a nice hotel where the Guild had set up a stationary base at, or that’s at least what Mark told you as he talked you ear off endlessly in order for you to try and warm up to him. You only saw Guild officers in the hall as Mark pushed your wheelchair down the hall of the penthouse the Guild had gotten. Behind the doors you could hear the frustrated yells of both Alexandre and Dr. Stevenson who were probably as you could imagine, doing what they could to make their capture’s life a living hell. You could then hear quiet crying from behind another door, Victor who was probably scared out of his mind. Then there was the door at the end of the hall where you didn’t hear anything from, but from earlier when you arrived on this floor you saw wisps of brown hair and long blue flows fabric get pulled in there, Miss Jane most likely.

So now you were laid down in bed, pillows behind your back so you could sit up and blankets drawn up on you. Your wheelchair was beside your bedside and Mark sat at your side, he had finally stopped talking once he had finally noticed your stubbornness not to do so. You two sort of just sat in silence for a long time before he sighed. “You know the boss is pretty upset at your friend right now, Mrs. Fitzger-“

“Her name is Jane Austen.” You cut him off, finally saying something.

“Whatever her name is, she really pissed him off. I’m advising you to stay out of the line of fire and just keep a cool head if he talks to you.” Mark said standing up, reaching over to adjust your pillows so you can lay down more comfortably since he noticed your yawns ad eyelids getting heavy.

“Easy for you to say when you and your friends weren’t kidnapped.”

Mark only sighed as he lowered your head back onto the pillows. “Look I’m trying to help you. Look just try to get some rest, I don’t know how long you all will be staying here, you’ll probably be taken somewhere soon seems like your friends are clawing like cats.”

Mark walked over the lights and dimmed them down for you. “I’ll leave you alone for now just… get some sleep.”

He opened the door and stepped out, closing it behind him, but not locking it, probably because he doesn’t think you could get to the door, taunting you almost.

—————————

Gaston’s phone call was answered by a rather annoying young man, a high pitched voice, but when Gaston told the young man his name he knew who he was, researched him most likely. When Gaston asked to speak to Dazai he was only told that Dazai was meeting with a government agent, but that the president himself would be happy to meet with them personally on what they need the only thing that they asked were files on the society’s members and answer questions they asked. They were given an address, a suspicious location, they would need to walk down a long rail line, they would be completely isolated any easy to pick off but at this point it was their only hope. 

Gaston took the lead to keep Lewis and Henrik behind him, safe from immediate trouble. They walked down the rail line, looking long abandoned. Along the path they spotted cameras, or Gaston did at least. The long walk was silent and then at end of the hall, in front of a door, three men stood, one of them were familiar to Gaston, he was at that cafe with Dazai that day, Kunikida. The other two were strange to them, if you or Victor were there, you would recognize them as Ranpo and Fukuzawa, the president of the Armed Detective Agency. 

“Are you armed?” Kunikida asked, his eyes narrowed at them. Gaston reached in his coat pocket and pulled out his revolver, an old gun, he took the six rounds out and held it in his other hand. Kunikida looks over to the president and he nods his head. Kunikida walks forward and takes the revolver Gaston gave him, along with a gun from Lewis and then a knife from Henrik. “I apologize but this is a safety precaution.”

“I understand, but I would like that back when this is over, that was my grandfather’s.” Gaston said as Kunikida tucked their weapons away. 

“We will see Mr. Leroux, if you do good by us, we will do good by you. You have my word.” The president said, still no emotion on his face. Fukuzawa turned from them and opened the door behind him. “We’ll talk inside.”

They followed behind the president, it was almost like a college lecture hall they stepped into, wooden mostly. There were also three other figures there, a young man, teenager maybe, blond, overalls and a straw hat, another a woman, dark hair, and butterfly clip were her most prominent features, and the last s red head but he didn’t have many defining features about him, but they seemed busy in their own conversation, but kept an ear open on the conversation that was about to happen. They were lead to the front of the hall and sat down, all except the president, he stood in front of them. He looked down at the three society members, all that is left now. Gaston reached into his bag, a leather satchel, and pulled out a stack of files, each labeled with a different name, Jane Austen, Dr. R.L. Stevenson, Victor Hugo, Alexandre Dumas, Gaston Leroux, William Shakespeare, Emma Orczy, Lewis Carroll, Henrik Ibsen, and one on you. “Straight from one of the Society’s archives. You’ll find almost everything on everyone in the society.”

“Almost everything?” Fukuzawa asked, an eyebrow raised. 

“Well sometimes we each have our own dark secrets that we make sure never surface. Secrets that are best left forgotten, even by ourselves.” Gaston answered. Fukuzawa’s eyes narrowed at this statement but brushed it aside, for now anyway, he would come back to it later.

“Now what is it you exactly want? I doubt it is anything small considering how easily you all handed over your weapons.” Fukuzawa asked.

“You sure are sharp Mr. Fukuzawa.” Gaston chuckled and nodded before his expression became completely serious suddenly. “Members of our society have been captured by the Guild, because we refused a deal with them. We want to get them back.”

“You want us to break in to a Guild base?” Fukuzawa asked, showing shock on his face for the first time in this conversation. 

“No, we simply need to borrow one of yours’ ability because we cannot go back to our home base to get what we need.” Gaston shook his head to the president’s question and pointed a finger right at a slightly surprised Kunikida. “We just need to borrow his ability.”

—————————

You were able to get somewhat of a nap in, the pain in your leg was quite a lot to deal with. When you awoke you didn’t see Mark at your bedside like before, now it was a much more familiar and more unwelcome face of John. He smelled at you when he noticed you were awake. “Good morning, sleeping beauty.”

You scowled and wanted to roll onto your side if it wasn’t for your damned leg. He saw this and sighed. “Don’t like me anymore huh?”

“Not in the slightest.” You said, speaking through gritted teeth.

He drugged and stood up. “Well I suppose you see us as the bad guys, you wouldn’t be the first but honestly you aren’t suited for society work, you should have just stayed in your flower shop. You were quite adorable there. Your old boss is quite worried about you, I stopped by there while you were sleeping and she was worried to but about you.”

Your eyes widened in hour as you heard those words and you honestly thought the worst happened. “What did you do to her?”

He sighed and shook his head. “Nothing, she’ll be quiet alright. For now anyway, she’s probably closing up shop and heading home now anyway.” You sighed in relief as you heard this but that was quickly replaced by pain once again as John went to pick you up and place you in your wheelchair. “Now, your boss has somehow convinced Mr. Fitzgerald to let her speak to you.”

When he said this your heart skipped a beat in either joy of fear as he pushed your wheelchair down the hall towards what must be Fitzgerald’s room that Jane was dragged into. As you were fist rolled inside it was giant, like a whole other house, it was probably double the size of Miss Jane’s already huge apartment. On the couch was Miss Jane, hair down, a white silk robe and a blue silk night gown, she held a cup of tea in her hands and her blindly stared down at the hot liquid as behind her Fitzgerald stood, leaning against the couch, one hand playing with Miss Jane’s hair the other holding a stack of written papers. Fitzgerald and Jane both heard the door open and they both looked up to you the two of you entering. Fitzgerald smiled and tucked his arm with the papers at his side. “Ah you must be Miss (Name), John has been telling me and other Guild members all about you. You worked at a flower shop before working for my Zelda, must have taken such a risk, hm?”

“I like working for Miss Jane, it gives me purpose again.”  You said, completely disregarding the name he used for her, this made Miss Jane smile and Fitzgerald sigh.

“I see, I suppose she must have been paying you well then, wouldn’t surprise me that my wife would.” He spoke as he walked over to a nearby chair and grabbed a jacket that rested on it and began to put it one.

“Respectfully sir, I don’t give a damn about the money, I could be paid nothing and I would still do this,because the society was made to do the right thing.” You spoke as you were rolled up right next to Miss Jane. Fitzgerald looked over his shoulder at the two of you, right at the smirk on your face and the smile on Miss Jane’s.

“I see…” something about his look seemed dangerous and he turned and walked over to Jane, leaning down and kissing her on the head. “I have to go run an errand, I love you, I’ll be back soon.”

With a look to John the other blond man followed behind leaving the two of you alone in the room. The moment the door shit, Miss Jane looked at you with her best smile. You looked over her body and you came to a quick realization due to the bruises forming on her collarbone, neck, and most prominently on her wrists… did Fitzgerald… oh god…

She noticed your realization and she looked away, almost in shame. She spoke, a single tear falling down her cheek. “I-It only hurt when I fought back… when I relaxed… he was gentle, like when we were still married.”

A look of horror came across your face when you said this, somehow this was a million times more painful than your bullet wound. “Miss Jane… I-I’m sorry… is there anything I can do?”

She sat in silence for a long minute, maybe almost five judging by the ticking on a nearby clock before nodding. “No matter what happens, don’t call me by my old name, my name is the only dignity I have left.”

You nodded in understanding and then the door swung open once more, this time it was definitely more welcome faces, Dr. Stevenson, Alexandre, and Victor, along with the even more welcome faces of Emma and William who must have also been moved here from the luxury liner. They all looked out of breath and there was yelling in the hall and then Miss Jane came to a realization. “Is it Henrik’s ability?”

Dr. Stevenson nodded and Alexandre rushed over to you, the strongest member here, and picked you up like bride in his arms. You all rushed back into the hall and saw all the guards pinned to the ground almost by and invisible force. The unconscious bodies of Margaret Mitchell and Nathaniel Hawthorne were also there, those two specifically looked like they have been tossed around like a chew toy. Miss Jane chuckled at this and looked at Emma and William who were hand in hand as they ran like lovers running off from their wedding. “Seems like Henrik found he least favorite doll to play with.”

—————————

You all found yourself here soon at the safe house of the Armed Detective Agency. You were all able to get changed who needed it, Miss Jane, Emma, and William, back into their usual attire and in Emma’s words, “When I get back to my apartment I am burning that dress Nathaniel put me in, it belongs in hell.” You on the other hand got to pay a visit to the doctor of the agency… best if we just skip past that bit.

So now here you all are sitting in the underground hide out of the Armed Detective Agency, some of you made small talk with who knew each other. Yo saw Alexandre talking to two men, you learned their names as Kunikida and Junichiro, apparently they met on their last missions. You rested your head on Victor’s shoulder as he talked to Ranpo and young blond boy named, Kenji, seemed like a sweet kid. Dr. Stevenson was talking to the agency doctor who was able to heal your leg completely, Dr. Yosano, those two seemed to get along splendidly based on their laughter and chatter with one another. Emma and William were off somewhere doing their own thing, you don’t blame them, they were separated after all and may just need sometime to sit and be. Lewis and Henrik were napping in a corner, Lewis’s large sweater draped over the both of them like a huge blanket, honestly you wondered if they were just friends. Gaston stood in the corner, all alone, it seemed like he had some weight on his mind at the moment that he needed to process right now. As for the leaders of your organization, Miss Jane was at least wearing a mask of her happy self and she talked to President Fukuzawa, thanking him for the agency’s assistance, you couldn’t hear most of their conversations, but you could tell that by the sound of their voices that they got along well enough. 

You closed your eyes as you began to drift off on Victor’s shoulder and thought, maybe things are taking a turn for the best now, but only time could tell what horrors lay ahead of you, but at least now you were all together to deal with what came next.

[daughterofthereaper02]

Imagine Being Bradley’s Little Sister And Being Part of SG1

A/N: This is slightly AU!!! Just that the time lines match up!!!

You walked into The Hard Deck with Jack, Sam, and Daniel. You were all being forced to go on vacation someplace else, Teal'c luckily was able to go off world for his vacation. You mentioned having some friends down here and you all took the opportunity to go there rather then Hammond forcing you all to go someplace else. You had just gotten back to Earth after being stuck off world for a month. Daniel and Sam both had a great time with the artifacts and science while you, Jack and Teal’c were just begging for something interesting to happen.

What you didn't know was your brother was now working down here, you both haven't spoken in years after the fight that you were joining the Air Force. While you forgave each other, the relationship was still very strained.

You went up to the bar and grinned "Penny Benjamin, is that you?" You asked. Maverick was a father/uncle figure to you and you still kept in very close touch when you could. Because of growing up with Maverick as your uncle, you grew up meeting Penny. She turned and her eyes widened "Y/n Bradshaw? My God you've grown up beautifully!" She said, giving you a hug from across the bar. You quickly ordered a couple of beers for everyone, promising to catch up with Penny later. When going back over to your team, you had to take a book out of Daniels hand to get him to pay attention. "Jackson, we were told to get away from anything work related for a week. Those ancient artifacts will still be there when you get back" you told him and he held up his hands. "Sir, you up for a round of pool?" You asked Jack as you gave him his beer. "You know it Major" he grinned.

You both went over and began to play, neither of you noticed the naval aviators come in. You managed to win, both Sam and Daniel make sure neither of you cheated. Jack groaned at how bad he had lost to you. "And that means you buy the next round Colonel" you grinned. Jack grumbled and went off to get the next round. You looked up and met Bradley's eyes. Your grin dropped and he looked shocked "Y/n?" He asked. You gave a tight nod and Sam came over to you "You good?" She whispered. You got a cocky look "I've never been better. Want to meet my older brother Sam, Daniel?" You asked just as Jack came back.

Just as you went to go over, Maverick came into the bar, making you grin. "Uncle Mav!" You called, moving right past your brother and hugged him tightly. He picked you up and swung you around like you were a little girl again "I've missed you kiddo! Phone calls just aren't the same" he smiled. You brought him over to your team "Uncle Mav, these are my colleagues. Air Force Colonel Jack O'Neill, Air Force Captain Samantha Carter, and Doctor Daniel Jackson. This is my uncle in everything but blood, Naval Captain Pete Mitchell, call sign Maverick" you grinned. The team had heard so much about him that it felt like they already knew him. Jack shook hands with Pete, “Pleasure to meet you, this one doesn’t shut up about you, especially after hearing the stupid stunts you pull. Apparently we shouldn’t be allowed to meet” Jack said, sending you a look and making you blush.

Phoenix came over, you hadn’t noticed that all of the pilots were listening, "I’m sorry, but who are you? Maverick never mentioned a niece” she asked politely. “Oh, I’m Y/N Bradshaw ma’am” you told her politely. Al of their eyes widened “And before you ask, yes I’m Bradley’s little sister” you said, not looking at your brother. All of them introduced themselves but Hangman rubbed you the wrong way, “I’m Lt. Seresin, but you can call me Hangman” he grinned. “Major, I’ll be right back. Hammond is on the phone” Jack told you before stepping outside. “Major?” Hangman asked before laughing “You outrank Rooster!” he laughed loudly. You shrugged with a little smile, “My work allowed quick advancements. I was only just recently promoted.” you said. Sam put her arm around you and squeezed, “You deserved it” she smiled.

Maverick smiled, “So what was it again you did for the chair force- I mean Air Force?” he asked, “Oh just deep space telemetry” you smirked, “By the way, please don’t try and access my files again” you said sweetly. Bradley looked confused, “What we do is highly classified. More then your mission from before” you said. “I may not talk to you Bradley, but I keep tabs to make sure you aren’t dead.” you said, lying slightly. You kept tabs on him in case anything from your line of work threatened him. Aliens manage to find out a lot of information without trying.

Jake stepped inside, “Sorry kiddos, Hammond needs us back to on base asap” he said. You all nodded, “I’ll keep in touch Uncle Mav and Bradley? Keep in touch this time, phones do work both ways” you said before you all left. “They seemed nice” Daniel said, “I have a feeling this isn’t the last we’re going to see of them” Sam said as you all left.

A/N: Let me know if you want more of this!!

[middlefletcher]

Inviting Ethan along to Al’s shouldn’t have felt like such a big deal. Al was always telling them to bring their friends along, especially this year now that the kids couldn’t see their friends at school anymore. Granted there had been a lot of reasons they never took Al up on that offer: the fact that Patty often liked to invite herself along, the fact that they didn’t want to impose on Al’s generosity, not to mention it was only the younger kids who even had that many friends they’d invite in the first place. But Cal had invited Wil along a few times so it only felt fair that Ian could invite Ethan this time. He’d tried to be casual about it, but it had been a relief when Sadie and Seb decided to bring friends along as well. It wasn’t just Ian shaking things up now. Ian was a little surprised Seb brought along Dirk instead of one of his other Gryffindor mates from school, but the pair did seem like they’d become fast friends and it had to be good for Dirk to be around people who didn’t remember him as the kid who went missing from Hogwarts. Hopefully it wouldn’t be too weird for Ethan. As if Ian’s whole family situation wasn’t weird enough. That stuff wasn’t Dirk’s fault though, so Ian was glad he was coming along to hang with some kids his own age. Henry coming too would be even better, the kids could all hang out together and no one would pay attention to him and Ethan.

Except Ian was quite certain Mac would be paying attention, and probably Cal because Mac had probably told Cal about their conversation. Probably waited to do it while Ian was at work so he wouldn’t overhear them. But it would be fine. Ethan had sounded like he was curious about meeting Al and his siblings and Ian didn’t see a reason not to bring him ‘round, at least once he knew Patricia wouldn’t be there. Ian just wished he didn’t feel so nervous about seeing Ethan. Which was stupid. There was nothing to be nervous about. Ethan was great and they were mates and it just so happened that Ethan fancied Ian and Ian fancied Ethan back and had no idea how to proceed with that information except that after talking about it with Mac he was pretty sure he wanted to be more than just friends with Ethan. He just wasn’t sure what that looked like or how to get there. Other than talking to Ethan about it, probably. But that felt like a big conversation to have right before introducing Ethan to his whole family. Maybe they could talk after. 

With that settled, Ian felt a little bit less nervous as he biked to the shop, grinning when he saw Ethan waiting there with his own bike. “Hey,” Ian greeted him with a wave as he stopped his bike. For a second he considered getting off and giving Ethan a hug or something, which was weird because he usually didn’t think about what he was doing when he touched Ethan. Or did anything with Ethan. Everything felt a little off-kilter now. Except there was still that warm happy feeling he felt when he saw Ethan. “You all set?” He said with a smile, waiting for Ethan’s confirmation before he nodded and led the way back to his house. This wasn’t the first time he’d had a friend to the house, since Leo had ended up coming over to get Dirk set up to tutor here. But bringing Ethan over—because Ethan was interested in seeing the house—felt a lot different than Leo coming by with his brother. Still, Patricia had been gone already before Ian left, and they’d just be stopping in on the way to Al’s. This was fine. “Here we are,” he said when they got to the house. “Come on, we can leave our bikes in the broom shed.” He hopped off his bike and walked it around to the backyard, pulling open the broom shed for them and showing Ethan where he could park his bike. “This is the best part of the house, really,” he added as they stepped back out into the backyard.

[lovaboy]

a problem i’m having with MoM + wanda stans is that it was written by michael waldron (who wrote that idiotic sylki plot) & ppl are going to use that as an excuse as to why wanda’s character was “ruined” even though she’s consistently been shown to be a very unstable character capable of mass destruction since she was introduced. like i do think michael waldron made a lot of dumb fucking plot choices that don’t make any sense but also he picked up wanda’s story where wandavision left off, so... anyway, spoilers and lots of rambling under the cut

so first off, her lack of control wrt her powers. when pietro dies in aou, she sends out a shockwave because she screams. she (albeit accidentally) blows up that building in civil war. vision in infinity war is the reason she enslaves an entire town out of “grief” or whatever because initially she didn’t realize what was going on, and even then it took her far too long to let the innocent people go because she wanted her fake little family to stay together. and now in MoM, the darkhold is bringing to the forefront what anyone with a brain already knew: wanda maximoff is dangerous. she will do whatever she wants to get her way, and the darkhold lets her do so almost completely unchallenged (see the way she rips apart CAPTAIN FUCKING MARVEL on top of the other “illuminati” members).

(i also need to mention here that giving wanda, a character who is jewish in the comics, a plot line revolving around kidnapping america in an attempt to use her to get to au wanda’s kids, is wildly antisemitic. not that that’s anything new with the mcu, considering they also had wanda and pietro willingly join hydra.)

none of her arguments even make sense!!! wong literally says “you could just… ask america to send you to another universe” and her response is “well what if my boys get sick??” like ??? as if giving unrestrained multiversal travel to the most unstable magic user in the mcu is worth the risk bc one of her kids might get cancer or something. get a grip, wanda.

not to mention the fact that she’d have to kill her own alternate self in order to even exist in that universe, and the fact that those boys would never be hers. HER twins were a figment of her imagination brought to “life” by her magic. they weren’t real, and the experiences she had with them are not universal. trying to pretend she’s the mother of these au twins was never going to play out the way she wanted. and btw what about vision??? where is he in all of this?? he was the catalyst and he wasn’t mentioned or shown a single time.

anyway, her entire plot line based around being a “mother” is just ridiculous, honestly. “i’m not a monster. i’m a mother.” “all mothers create their children out of magic.” like what are you people talking about. WHAT are you saying. no real mother is going to kill a child to get what she wants, and to have wanda say TO HER KIDS FACES “i would never hurt someone!” when they JUST saw her choking the life out of america… did anybody read this script after waldron wrote it? did he just plug some prompts into ai dungeon and let it run wild? jesus christ

and then you take into account the aos darkhold giving aida the knowledge to literally build her own human body and it’s like. well why the fuck didn’t wanda just do THAT? if the darkhold is the same in every universe (as basically confirmed by wanda destroying every darkhold ever by collapsing the temple ((which was stupid as fuck))), there’s no reason this spell couldn’t have been used. she could have built her kids exactly the way they were except they’d be human this time. but then they’d have to bring in ghost rider and god FORBID it be robbie reyes like the aos universe because then they’d have wanda kill him off like she does with sara and maria rambeau. because she just can’t get enough of harming/killing the characters of color she comes in contact with (monica rambeau i’m sorry they treated you like that in wandavision). regardless, the solution to all her problems was in the same goddamn book she’s been reading, but instead she decides to go hunt down a child with the intent to kill her.

but i’m not done yet!! there’s also the “wanda is being held hostage by the scarlet witch in her own mind” plotline that is IMMEDIATELY fucking thrown out the second the scene is over. professor x sees “wanda” amidst the rubble of her destroyed childhood home and is like “i can help you out of here,” only to get his neck snapped by “scarlet witch.” personally, as this is NEVER REFERENCED AGAIN, i think it was all a ploy by wanda. i think she was trying to throw him off his guard, and it worked. because she’s massively overpowered and everyone else is nerfed. but that’s just a theory. EDIT: i’ve been informed that this was a scene most likely regarding au wanda who was being possessed by 616 wanda but i’m leaving it in for anyone who had the same thought as i did. i feel like wong said something abt wanda being possessed by the scarlet witch at one point but yknow. brain fuzz.

anyway, her “sacrificial” scene at the end means nothing when she isn’t shown as having any real remorse over what she did. she never even fucking apologizes for repeatedly almost killing america??? she gets the shit knocked out of her by america, has a weird “emotional” scene with her au self, and decides for some reason to tear down the temple afterwards. there’s no real reconciliation with what she’s done, there’s absolutely no consequences as of yet because there’s no way in hell she’s really dead. she never acknowledged that she did anything wrong, she just told corpse strange that no one would ever use the darkhold again. that last scene wasn’t a “heroic sacrifice” or a “redemption arc,” it was a suicide.

in conclusion. the horror aspect was very fun, i liked america, strange was fine (he was NOT a hypocrite in using the darkhold btw considering he was trying to save the child wanda wanted to murder + save the entire multiverse & is suffering the consequences), i think it’ll be fun if he turns into a villain next, and while i fully believe wanda’s arc was continued properly from the end of wandavision, she’s really fucking dumb in this because the plot makes no sense compared to the grand scheme of the mcu. also lizzie olsen does not have the range for the rage wanda was supposed to be showing in the scene at kamar-taj. the end.

[suzuran777]

Review: Nie no Machi -Iromusubi-

I finally finished playing the Nie no Machi fandisc! The first game was released in 2018 and I really liked it, so I was very excited when they announced Nie no Machi -Iromusubi-. This review might contain some spoilers for the first game, but I’ll try to not mention too many details.

Most routes are a direct continuation of the ones you played in the first game, though they also added some new original stories! The first time you play this game only one of the new routes is available (開幕/Opening). In this route Hisora is still staying at the inn with everyone who you met in the first game. This route also introduces a new character called Sanjuugo, whose name literally means…35 and that’s because Hisora thought that would be a good name for him (….yeah, don’t even ask). Sanjuugo/35 has two endings, but you can play most of the other endings after finishing his main ending (the one with the CG, you’ll know when you see it...). I of course recommend getting them all because you probably need all endings to unlock the final route.

After finishing this route you unlock many new stories, I summarized the three different categories below:

Sequels (後日譚): Will Hisora stay at the inn, or will he return to the real world? These are direct continuations of all the good and normal endings of the first game.

Side Stories (外伝): These stories focus on the side characters, but in most of them you’ll also see some other characters. Akari, Totonoe, Komachi, Kuro and Sata all have their own new stories.

If (いふ): These are continuations of the first game’s bad endings, though only the ones in which Hisora is still alive of course. In this case that’s both of Naruomi’s bad ends (Akari end, Shiro & Kuro end), Koko’s bad end, Asuku’s bad end and one of Mio’s bad ends (Totonoe ending).

You’re free to play them in whatever order you want, but some of the bad endings and side stories can get pretty dark, so be prepared for that! (but if you played the first game you of course already expected that).

Once you finish all of these two other stories unlock! Especially the final one is pretty long and almost feels like a whole new route. In this route the choices you pick matter because you can get a few different endings, though there’s only 3 choices so it’s pretty easy to figure out.

Final thoughts I really enjoyed this fandisc! In my opinion fandiscs are always a bit of a hit or miss, some of the other ones I’ve played felt a bit short and others didn’t add the bad ending continuations I would love to see. However, Iromusubi is a pretty long fandisc, I think it took me at least 38 hours to finish everything, which is comparable to the length of the first game. Iromusubi is also a bit cheaper than the original game too, so I think pricewise it was a good deal.

Apparently they changed the writer for this game, but I didn’t really notice it? Of course Japanese isn’t my first language and it has been 4 years since I finished the first game, so maybe I just don’t remember. The first game had a lot of gory content and the fandisc definitely had a lot of this too. Not every scene had a CG, but sometimes you didn’t even need that because the descriptions were already graphic enough. I’m not complaining though because I’m a big fan of horror VNs! Also that first route which you have to play before you can even access anything else... I certainly didn’t expect that...

I was surprised that one of my favorite endings was actually Mio’s good end, because I don’t think he was my favorite character in the first game. I also really liked the side stories because not only do you learn more about the side characters, they also show a couple of new scenes with Koko, Naruomi and Mio. I do wonder what happened to some of Asuku’s content? The side character in his first game route was Ao, but he’s not mentioned anywhere in the fandisc. Because of this you don’t learn super much new about Asuku’s past either, though they do briefly mention it in his good end continuation. Also the new route you unlock near the end is my guilty pleasure route... but I won’t spoil it right now.

I do recommend playing the fandisc if you enjoyed the original game! You can buy the digital version here, DLsite usually has discount coupons, so I think I got it for 30% off too. If you still want to buy the first game, they also sell a bundle which contains both games here! All pictures in this blog belong to Zombilica and were posted on the official website.

[shiveringscarletsun]

The owl houses ended.. I have many thoughts

i finally got the courage to watch the last episode and my heart is racing and i cried for a bit and it’s an understatement to say it’s absolutely Perfect. The staff and dana did wonderfully trying to give us the best they can with the cuts that were made and everything they did shows how much they adore the show and love the fans and respect the viewers. I am forever grateful they made a show this magnificent. So here i’ll just talk endlessly about it because i realllyyy want to talk.

The collector

I love how they dealt with the collector. from the first time they introduced them i was genuinely shocked and amused that they had a kid be this powerful sort of “villain” because theres nothing harder to defeat than a kid who cannot be reasoned with.. the only way to deal with a kid is with kindness and mentoring.. showing them what’s right basically. However, since the collector is so powerful and had ruled basically everything it could’ve been possible to forget that they’re a kid and punish them or something.. but they didn’t and i respect it so much. Especially that their whole thing was that he was misunderstood.. Luz was also misunderstood.. they didn’t damn him just because he did bad things but went with him and showed him how good people can be. i love that. luz immediately understood them.. because she felt what they felt.

belos

i genuinely have never seen a villain this vile in my life. goosebumps all the time and insane audacity. them ending him without even luz actually killing him was genius.. the way he remained how he was till the very end, a manipulative scumbag. He was a Good written villain. a villain who had a vision, who knew his vision was opposed by all and made no sense to those around him so he sought power to enforce what “he thought was right”. exploited weaknesses and had no regard for anyone who wasn’t “useful”. the bit where luz told the titan what if we are like that too.. and how titan explained things.. it was on point and was perfect to mention it right then and there.

luz

luz was a wonderful protagonist. things weren’t magically just working out for her just because.. but it was all because of her very hard work and kind open heart. her magic was through her own work, when her friends saved her thats because she worked to make great friends who were there for her.. even the powers she gets at the end were due to the titan seeing who she was and trusting her.. knowing how dedicated and sincere she is. luz is like a tree that gives and stands through it all and i appreciate her. she started out a kid and got hurt after everything she saw, and they showed that, but she got back up because she is strong enough.. good people attract good people eventually and i loved seeing her grow.

everyone

i would love to mention everyone individually but i got tired. regardless.. the ending just shows that a good loving community will breed the most loving ,productive, and confident individuals. i love how everyone naturally grew into themselves, how trauma didnt define them and life treated them good. How those who were just naive and mean grew into their communities while those who actually hated everyone and were truly ignorant got left out because not everyone is actually worth redemption (like amity’s mom). hunter, amity, gus, willow and all the rest flourished when they were given the space to exist freely. A happy ever after isnt a single place in time.. but a life that one enjoys living everyday. i would talk forever if i could.

final thoughts

thank you for every single person that told this story and helped create it, and every person that shared the love from everywhere and dana. your passion flows and the love flows and you can get through anything.. A wonderful story, mesmerizing art, gorgeous designs and world building, heartwarming ending that is so well deserved. peace.

I wished to see more and more, but I’ll continue to cherish everything we already had.

[caro-amante]

Al Infinito y Más Allá

[ James Potter x GN!Reader HCs ]

description: Headcanons of being hispanic and dating Jamie boy<3

contents/warnings: Reader speaks Spanish and is closely connected to their culture. Sexual themes/descriptions (under the cut), slight mentions of James being a sub lmao, and i think that’s it. if i forgot any, please let me know. <3

a/n: hi, im back and do i have something for ya😫 i wanted to make some Hispanic!reader HCs due to the lack in this fandom, so here we are. I tried to make it as vague as possible, since i want all of hispanic nationalities to feel included:) I hope you enjoy and leave some feedback !

» no descriptions of reader’s physical appearance nor sexual orientation, besides being attracted to James. Also, i HC James as Indian- so there’s mentions of that:)

» fun fact, my native language is spanish !

masterlist

— — —

General topics

Calling James cute petnames in Spanish just to make him blush.

Lindo, guapo, mi rey, etc.

You’ll have him blushing even though he doesn’t know what any of them mean.

Showing him the music and foods of your country, as well as teaching him to dance to said music.

He begged you to teach him how to dance to them

He steps several times on your feet if you’re teaching him a partnered dance😭

when coming back home for christmas break(if you celebrate it), you’ll show him your family’s customs.

christmas break is 2-3 weeks, so you’ll teach him about Los Tres Reyes Magos

and how you need to leave food for the camels, so you go out with him and your siblings (if you have any) to look out for the best grass

he’ll be so excited to meet your family

and showing off his spanish speaking skills

him pronouncing words incorrectly so that leads to everyone being confused

when you come back from break, he’s constantly speaking in spanish to you

like you’ll be in class and he’ll whisper to you in spanish in a terrible english accent

but it’s okay cause his cheeky smile makes up for it

one time when he visited, your grandpa introduced him to mate 🧉

and he absolutely hated it

according to him it’s ‘the nastiest thing i’ve ever tasted in my life’

BUT HE DIDNT SAY ANYTHING CAUSE HE WANTS TO GET ALONG WITH UR GRANDPA

hell be like ‘oh! i love it!” while he tried to hide his expression of disguist

so the next christmas, your grandpa sends him a gift

and it turned out to be mate

him researching about your culture and reading many books about it

all for you

before you started dating, he didn’t know any spanish at all

so when he decided to ask you out, he chose to ask you in spanish

shocker, he had to end up asking you in english cause you couldn’t comprehend what he was saying😭

he was a stuttering mess after that tho like

it was so adorable

okay so i headcanon james as half indian on his mother’s side, his father being scottish

so like i can imagine both of you sharing about your cultures and languages

you’ll learn a bit of his native tongue and he’ll learn of yours, like i said before

you two teaching eachother how to cook typical dishes of your cultures

as well as baking

he loves it

i’d love to talk more about james’ culture but this is about you, so i’ll leave that for another post:)

I HAVE SO MANY THOUGHTS

nsfw under the cut

Sexual themes ahead

Likes to be dirty talked in Spanish.

you can’t tell me otherwise.

Since you’ve taught him a lot about your language, he definitely knows a few words.

So when you grasp his jaw, look him deep in his eyes as you smooth talk in your language- he’ll be shaking like a bitch

His cock is tight against the restraints of his trousers, all while you ask him, “Querés que te ayude, mi rey?”

His dark curls lay on the pillow while he throws his head back overwhelmed by your palm rubbing on his tent

HE GETS SO EMBARRASSED WHEN YOU DIRTY TALK IN PUBLIC

Since not alot of people know Spanish in Hogwarts, other than the basic “hola” or “gracias,” it’s easy to get away with

You can walk up from behind him while he’s talking to his mates, and easily whisper “las cosas que desearía hacerte, guapo;)”

the marauders will easily tell what’s going on due to his dumbfounded expression, so it’s fun to play with him

sirius will def grab moony and take him away as he mutters words of disgust

“infront of us..” “nasty arses..” “no consideration for others around them..”

and peter will just leave with a red face

when teaching him to dance in the dorms, things might get out of hand

you get behind him and press your front against his back, your lips kissing his neck as your hands inch closer to his crotch

having him shiver under your touch

and then grabbing him by the waist to lead him to the bed, whispering “ven, mi amor..”

this man is just so😫

[calswildflcwer]

Home For The Holidays

Pairing : Carlos x fem!reader.

Warnings : Jealousy, anger, probably a few curse words

Plot : (Modern Au) You and Carlos had only met a few times. You had a deep online friendship as you were away for school and only came home to Encanto for the holidays. Your family had lived in Encanto a while but you only met Carlos a day before you moved away for school. However, the few times you’ve met and the sweet messages you have exchanged online have caused you to fall in love with the Madrigal boy; this sends him into a jealous rage due to you not telling him who you love and him having fallen in love with you aswell. What will he think when he finally finds out the truth?

Pronouns used : he/him for Carlos, she/her for reader.

Note : I am not a Spanish native and I don’t know any Spanish, all Spanish nicknames mentioned in this story are translated from google. If anything is wrong PLEASE let me know and I will correct it.

Request : yes / no

Info : I wrote this when I barely had any energy to write and was super tired so I’m sorry if it’s rubbish 🥺 Also, this is the request I decided to write to celebrate reaching 200 followers! 😇

Carlos taglist : @tigreost, @try-cry-why-try, @dai-tsukki-desu, @xxhome-is-where-ria-isxx, @cassiopeia-black-brenda, @elegantkidfansoul, @ale-creates-worlds, @eeyahhh, @camilos-mivida, @inky-clover, @belladonna271.

Carlos stared out of the window of his bedroom, his eyes glancing around at the falling snow outside of his window. His mamá was sure making it the perfect weather for this time of year. It was nearing Christmas, and Carlos felt excited, but he was also ill and his tias arepas hadn’t been helping.

Carlos wasn’t excited for Christmas, oh no, no no no, Carlos knew that his best friends school break for Christmas would be coming up soon, meaning that she would be coming home to Encanto for a few weeks before going back to the city in January for the remainder of the school year.

However, he was currently sick and wasn’t sure if he’d even be able to see you over your time here. His hands were clammy, his throat was clogged up, his chest felt tight and his stomach felt like it was in knots constantly. Whenever he went to grab his phone, his hands suddenly tensed up and he had to gulp hard. His illness seemed to all come down to you.

You’d been best friends with Carlos for around three years, but it was mostly online. You didn’t really know him during the time you lived in Encanto and only finally introduced yourself to the troublemaking boy a day before you were due to leave for school. You had a bad experience at the school in Encanto so you would be venturing to the city where your aunt lived and going to the same school as your cousins. You lived with your aunt during your school year.

You and Carlos spent a lot of time together the day before you left for school, to the point where you swapped numbers and added each other on social media. You stayed in contact through messages and social media, often falling asleep on FaceTime together and sending each other photos when something good happened. He often sent you photos of an angry Camilo after a good prank he pulled that had scared his golden boy counterpart.

But something inside of Carlos had changed recently, he’d obviously told you that he was ill but he had also become more distant, barely messaging you even though he knew you were coming home soon.

And you? You were so damn nervous. It was weird for you, you were never nervous when you were about to head back to your home. No, you were always excited. So, why were you currently pacing back and forth in your bedroom, your cousin sat at the desk watching you, a worried expression crossing her features.

“Okay, what’s got you so nervous?!” She finally snapped, worry flickering across her every feature as she watched you.

You took a deep breath followed by a sigh as you dropped down onto your bed, “I don’t know. I go home tomorrow for the holidays and I’m just so nervous.” You sighed.

“Is this because of that boy you’ve been texting? What’s his name again? Cameron or something?” She asked, furrowing her brows in thought.

“Carlos. His name’s Carlos.” You sighed before running a hand down your face, “The thing is, prima, he’s been ghosting me recently. You know, distancing himself and I don’t know. It’s weird and I hate it, I just want my Carlos back.” You blurted out, your hand flying to your mouth and your eyes wide.

Your Carlos? He was your Carlos? Did you own him? Did he belong to you? Was he your boyfriend? No, no no no and no. But, did you want him to be? Well… Yes.

Your cousin turned to you with wide eyes, a smirk resting along her features, “Your Carlos?” She questioned, taking in your nervous features once more. A gasp suddenly left the older girls lips, her own eyes were wide with shock, “You’re in love with him!” Wow, she clicked on fast. Damn.

You stared at her, thinking for a second before sighing and shaking your head. “No, we’re just friends.” You told her. Taking a final glance at your phone.

“But you want to be more.” Your cousin stated, matter of factly as she crossed her arms over her chest and stared at you with a smirk.

You flopped back on your bed, a soft sigh escaping your lips as you closed your eyes.

She was right. You did want to be more. So much freaking more. But with the way Carlos seemed to be avoiding you, it seemed that you would end up becoming less. So. Much. Less. And that scared the crap out of you.

Carlos closed his eyes, trying to sleep as he ignored the beeping of his phone; letting him know he had a text notification. “Oh, it’s (name) again!” Camilo mumbled, leaning over and checking the notification that Carlos refused to check. “Why are you ignoring her? I thought you guys were best friends?” Camilo asked, laying on his back in the darkness. The cold wind whistling outside of their window being the only sound they could hear.

Carlos sighed, “I’m not ignoring her. I’m just… Avoiding her.” The troublemaker tried to reason.

Camilo’s brows furrowed as he stared up at the ceiling of their shared room, “What’s the difference?” The yellow chameleon asked, confusion evident in his voice. Carlos’ eyes widened

Shit! Think Carlos, think!

“Uh… I…” Carlos began before sighing in defeat. “I guess there isn’t one. Look, Camilo, I’m sick. And every time I think that I’m getting better, I see a text from her and suddenly it’s like my stomach is doing backflips and I get all sweaty and my hands become all clammy and I suddenly feel the urge to be sick all over again.” Carlos sighed, confiding in his twin brother.

He heard Camilo scoff from the bed just a little ways away from his, Carlos’ brows furrowed as he pulled his blankets up over his shoulder and turned his back to his brother, “Dude, you’re in love!” Camilo said those words as if it were a fact.

Now it was Carlos’ turn to scoff, “As if.” He spoke, shrugging it off.

Love? A simple four letter word. A word that seemed so foreign to Carlos. Sure, he’d heard his mamá tell his papá that she loved him and vice versa, and he’d hear his family tell him that they loved him but for him to have love for somebody outside of his family? For him to actually be in love? No. No, Carlos Madrigal didn’t fall in love. Sure, he flirted back and forth with girls, quite a few actually but… But come to think of it, he hadn’t flirted with any girls since meeting you. Nobody had ever fallen in love with Carlos, they were all after his bright smiling, kindhearted, loving, popular and sweet hermano gemelo. Carlos Madrigal wasn’t the kind of boy that people fell in love with, so why would you be any different?

Carlos tossed and turned that night, his brothers words ringing in his ears all night long;

You’re in love! You’re in love! You’re in love!

It was almost as if his own thoughts were mocking him, making fun of him because they knew that you would never love him back. That wouldn’t be right, would it?

You? A girl whose sweet demeanour deemed her an easy target. A girl who was bullied to the point where she pleaded with tear filled eyes for her mother to remove her from the school. A girl who found light and love in the smallest things. A girl who could light up the whole town of Encanto on one of the dullest days with just her smile. A girl who danced in the street with that one group of seven year olds and Mirabel whenever the band played the accordion for her. A girl who was amazing at cooking but always refused to help his tia in fear that she would screw up one of the woman’s remedies. A girl who put everybody else before herself. A girl…. a girl who would never look at Carlos like that.

The next day came too soon, your uncle was soon pulling into your parents driveway as you stared down at your phone, deciding to try Carlos one last time before you decided to go to casita in search for him.

Hey Carlito, hope you’re okay! I’m back in Encanto now, can’t wait to hang out again. Also, here’s some news, I’m in love with somebody! Xx

You hit send, that little bit of news would surely have him intrigued right? He’d want to know who this someone was, wouldn’t he? Of course, you wouldn’t tell him and would just leave him guessing but it’d definitely pique his interested, wouldn’t it? Yeah, yeah, you were sure it would.

You quickly put your phone away, climbing out of your uncles car and greeting your mamá and papá as they rushed from the house and threw their arms around you, happy that you were back home with them, even if it was just for a few weeks.

Carlos rolled over, a shiver suddenly going down his spine, quickly noticing that his blankets were no longer wrapped around him. His eyes flicked open, seeing Camilo holding the blankets and cocking an eyebrow, “You’re up late, hermano.” The yellow chameleon cocked an eyebrow, a smirk present on his features. Carlos scowled, reaching for his phone to check the time. However, his eyes wandered down to the notification on his lockscreen. He squinted at the bright light of his phone before shooting up in his bed, reading the words you had written. His eyes were wide, his breathing hitched in his throat, no, no, this couldn’t be true. You couldn’t be in love with somebody.

“Hermano, what’s wrong?” Camilo asked, expressing his worry as he sat on the edge of Carlos’ bed. Carlos’ throat had gone completely dry, he tried to talk but nothing came out, he turned his phone to Camilo who read the notification.

Camilo’s eyes widened, “Wait, I thought you said she hated everybody at her school.” Camilo asked, confusion evident in his features.

Carlos scoffed, “It’s probably not someone from her school. It’s probably some rich douchebag who lives in the same neighbourhood.” He snarled, folding his arms over his chest.

“Careful, hermano. You’re starting to sound jealous.” Camilo said, rising to his feet. “Mami says to hurry down for breakfast by the way.” He added, heading towards the door, leaving Carlos to drown in his jealousy.

Carlos watched the door close before scoffing, pfft, jealous? Him? No fucking way!

That was something Carlos didn’t get, he didn’t get jealous. Especially not over some stupid schoolgirl crush you happened to develop. No way, that wasn’t his style. Jealousy wasn’t his style.

However, he had to find out everything about this asshole and he had to put you off him, yeah! That’s what he’d do. Not as an act of jealousy but just as him looking out for his best friend. Yeah, of course. That’s right. He’ll go with that. Okay.

Carlos pulled on a pair of black jeans and a maroon sweater before styling his hair so part of it covered one eye like it usually did before sliding on his converse and heading down the stairs, heading towards the breakfast table out on the patio area of casita. “Feeling better, mijo?” His mother asked him as he placed his phone into his pocket.

“Si, mami. Much better.“ He nodded causing the worried look on her face to disappear and for the small drizzle she was causing to cease as he took his seat between Camilo and his papá before beginning to tuck into his arepa’s that his youngest brother had happily piled up onto a plate for him.

“Now, as you all know, today (name) (last name) returned to Encanto for the holidays. Her parents are good friends of the Madrigal’s and it is our job to give their daughter a warm welcome. She will be home for three weeks for the Christmas holidays before heading back to school in January.” His Abuela’s voice soon rang out, pulling his attention away from his phone under the table and turning it to his Abuela.

Everybody nodded along to the elders words, “Si Abuela.” The grandchildren nodded.

You finally escaped your parents babying as they got caught up in some kind of conversation with your aunt and uncle, you left your home and began walking the streets of Encanto. Staring down at your phone every now and again.

You stopped at the fountain, this was yours and Carlos’ usual meeting place. He soon approached you, his eyes darting around the local area; looking anywhere but at you. You folded your arms over your chest, cocking an eyebrow as an unimpressed expression crossed your features. “So, my messages deliver, they’re read but you don’t reply? Are you avoiding me, tonta?” You asked, your voice dry.

Carlos flinched slightly at your tone of voice and the insult you gave him but he quickly shook it off, “Lo siento, (name). I’ve been ill and haven’t had the energy to reply.” He mumbled.

Your expression softened slightly, “Why couldn’t you tell me that?! Or get one of your family members to tell me that?!” You asked, a sigh escaping your lips. “I’ve been scared that you didn’t want to be friends anymore.” You groaned.

“I’m sorry. Really, I am.” He mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

“Wow, you really have been ill. Two apologies in the space of two minutes?” You smirked.

This caused Carlos to break into a smile, “Ay, shut up.” He chuckled, sitting on the ledge of the fountain beside you.

He was still avoiding your eyes but that feeling was back; the clammy hands, the tight chest, the knotted stomach, the dry throat.

He gulped slightly, “So, who’s the douch- Uh, the boy that you’re in love with?” Carlos asked you, staring at the floor as he did.

You shrugged, “Eh, it doesn’t matter.” You grinned.

Carlos’ eye twitched, it mattered! It damn well freaking mattered, it mattered to him.

“Come on, (name)! Tell me!” He mumbled, absentmindedly flicking the penknife in his jean pockets; open and closed, open and closed, open and closed.

You rolled your eyes, staring at him.

He looked super freaking cosy and warm right now, you just wanted to snuggle into his neck and have him hold you. The light snowflakes around you pouring delicately and covering the gorgeous town in a small layer of snow.

“He’s just some guy. He’s my age. His favourite colour is red. He’s become a good friend to me. He helps me out a lot and always takes my side during arguments with my family. He’s been there for me through some of my hardest times and I don’t even think he knows it. He… He’s perfect.” You shrugged slightly, turning your head back to the sky.

Carlos watched you, the snowflakes fell into your hair which effortlessly shaped your face, the small smile you wore as you watched the snowfall around you made his stomach do so many backflips that he almost felt sick. He swallowed hard, wetting his lips for a second, “A-are you sure it’s wise falling for some city boy? I mean, you’ll be coming back here after your school year finishes this year.” Carlos shrugged, trying to put you off the idea.

You thought for a second, not sparing him a glance as your next words tumbled from your mouth, “When did I say that he was a city boy?” You questioned, your eyes staring down at the thin layer of snow that was starting to settle on the ground.

Carlos swallowed, biting his lip as he watched you, god the idea of some other guy being able to kiss you and hold you and do all the things he wants to do made his blood boil, his hands curled into fists beside him as he eyed you. “What do you mean?” He questioned, eyeing you suspiciously.

You shrugged again, “The boy I love lives here.” Your mouth said the words before you could stop them once again. Carlos’ eyes widened but this went unnoticed by you as you kicked the snow with your feet.

“And you say he’s perfect?” He questioned, to which you nodded. That was when it dawned on him, there was only one person in the whole of Encanto that people described as perfect….

Camilo ‘señor perfecto’ Madrigal.

Carlos’ breath hitch inside of his throat, “I- I know who you love.” He mumbled, his eyes avoiding yours once again.

Your own eyes widened as you spun your head to stare at him, “Wh-what?!” You questioned.

He simply stood up, walking away, “C-Carlos! Where are you going?! What’re you doing?!” You tried calling out after him but he just continued to walk.

Carlos ignored your shouting, his hands still balled into fists down by his side as he stalked off to find his perfect twin brother.

“YOU!” Carlos snapped from across the street to where Camilo was entertaining a group of seven year olds.

Camilo waved the kids off quickly before turning to his brother, “What’s up, hermano?” He asked.

“You’re the one that (name) is in love with! How the fuck could you do this to me?!” Carlos snapped. Camilo paused, his eyes widening as he stepped back.

“Woah, woah, what are you talking about, Carlos?!” Camilo asked as he saw you rounding the corner behind Carlos.

You sprinted over, your hands on your knees as you caught your breath quickly, “Carlos, stop!” You called out.

He glanced over his shoulder at your disheveled appearance before grabbing Camilo and pushing him towards you, “Here he is! Here’s señor perfecto for you!” Carlos said.

He knew that his jealousy was getting the better of him, his face showing a scowl. His fists still curled into balls beside him. Camilo stared between you and Carlos before seeing a figure leaning on a wall behind you.

They were inspecting their nails, a bored expression on their face. She turned her head towards you, “Ugh!” She groaned, causing all three of you to turn your attention to the newcomer.

She lifted her head and stared at you, “Just tell him the damn truth, prima.” She told you, a bored expression crossing her features.

You shared a look with her, your eyes wide as you stared at the girl who was more like your best friend than your cousin. “Go on, you know you like him, (name). Tell him.” Your cousin sighed.

Your eyes frantically searched hers, “Yeah, go ahead! Tell him everything you’ve just told me, I’m sure señor perfecto would love to hear it!“ Carlos snapped, spinning on his heel and beginning to walk away.

“I WAS TALKING ABOUT YOU!” You blurted out, stopping Carlos in his tracks. Your eyes were wide, your hand covered your mouth in shock.

Carlos turned to you, his brows furrowed, “Wh-what?” He asked you.

You stared at your cousin, she nodded at you, sending you a wink before turning to Camilo, “Andre is here by the way.” She told him, gesturing for him to walk with her to where her younger brother was.

Carlos stared at you, confusion crossing his features, you turned to him, letting out a sigh, “I was talking about you, Carlos.” You sighed, running a hand down your face.

He stared at you, approaching you as he did, “What do you mean?” He questioned.

You took a deep breath, taking his hands in yours as you did, you chewed the inside of your cheek as you thought about your next words, “I’m in love with you, Carlos Madrigal. You’re señor perfecto in my eyes, not Camilo. You’re the one who’s been there for me all this time and it’s just made me fall in love with you.” You sighed, staring into the boys eyes.

“Gross.” He snarled. You sighed, pulling your hands from his.

“Look, j-just forget I said anything.” You sighed.

Carlos lifted his hands, bringing them up to cup your cheeks as he leaned down to stare into your eyes, “I love you too.” He spoke honestly, padding his thumb across your cheeks. “You’re the reason I’ve been ill these past few weeks.” He added, staring into your eyes.

“What? You’ve been ill because of your feelings for me?” You almost laughed but held it back.

His cheeks flushed red but you put it down to the cold, he nodded a small laugh sounded in his throat, “Yeah.” He sighed. “Look, I’m really bad at the whole expressing feelings thing so I’m just gonna say it outright, I’m in love with you and the thought of you liking somebody else? Well, I guess it just brought my feelings of jealousy to the surface.” He sighed.

“So, that was your jealousy.” You laughed. He nodded, rubbing the nape of his neck slightly.

“Y-yeah, sorry.” He mumbled, a small laugh escaping his lips.

You eyed him before lifting your head, watching the snowfall get faster, that’s when you did the unthinkable. You grabbed Carlos by the scruff of his sweater and pulled him close to you, closing the small gap between the both of you and kissing him deeply, passionately.

Your hands found his hair, entangling your fingers within his curls as he gripped your waist and pulled you close.

The kiss was soft but rough due to his chapped lips. Gentle but passionate. Sweet but desperate.

The pair of you pulled away breathlessly, he rested his head against yours, closing his eyes slightly as a small smile graced your lips. He placed one last soft peck to your lips as he grinned down at you, staring into your eyes. The pair of you pulled apart when you heard your cousins and Camilo behind you, speaking at the same time;

“Ya era hora!”

(Translation: “It’s about time!”)

~ Hey angels! Here is the request I decided to write for a lil celebration of reaching 200 followers! 😇 Let me know what y’all think, sweeties! 😘 Sending all of y’all so much love, hugs and pizza, my angels! Stay hydrated, make sure you’ve eaten today, remember you’re loved more than you’ll ever know and stay safe, lovelies! Mwah! 💖

[soulmate-game]

Useful Part 2

fluff with a little hurt and comfort. If you want answers as to the lack of angst, look through my recent posts for an explanation. 

—* — * — * —* —* 

“Wait, you have a WHAT?” were the first words that the rest of the Gotham-based vigilantes heard when they finally were able to track down where Damian had gone. Dick looked over at Bruce, who was noticeably tense. No surprise there, the man had just found out that he had a second biological child. One who was apparently a superhero already, without his intervention, and also apparently had a tragic background in the League of fucking Assassin Assholes. Not to mention that Damian’s track record with meeting siblings wasn’t great, even if this one wasn’t actually new to him. Nobody had any real fear of Damian relapsing on his no-kill rule, they knew he had matured far too much to be at risk of killing for something as immature as sibling rivalry anymore. 

But there was still fear. Because this new Wayne was an Unknown Factor, and as a rule the Bats hated Unknown Factors. And they had no idea what the relationship between the two had been before they had been separated, or what it would become now. 

“That wasn’t Damian’s voice,” Dick helpfully pointed out the obvious. Bruce only frowned, doing his best (and failing) to hide his anxiety about what they would find. Silently, the group inched forward to the edge of the abandoned building they were on top of so that they could look over at what was happening. What they saw was a girl, presumably the same one who had been in a ladybug onesie and had fearlessly begun to ask them to leave Paris— until she had laid proper eyes on Robin and fled, that was. That girl was sitting down next to an unmasked Damian, who had his arm around her shoulders and let her lean into his side. He even smirked cheerfully at her question before continuing to speak to her. 

“A dragon-bat. I knew you’d love hearing about him, I’ll introduce you when you come visit the Batcave. His name is Goliath,” Damian admitted smugly. Despite the familiar attitude and pride behind his words though, his spying family couldn’t help but notice that he kept periodically rubbing the girl’s (they really needed to find out her name) shoulder in reassurance. None of them missed the tear tracks on both of their faces, or how red the girl’s eyes were. Clearly they had missed something big. 

But nobody wanted to try to figure that out yet. This scene was too precious, too breathtaking for them to interrupt just yet. They had never seen Damian this vulnerable around someone outside of their little circle before, someone from the Time Before Bruce, no less. Most of the time, only Nightwing was able to see this side to Damian. And usually the roles were reversed, with Damian being the one consoled. They had never seen him in the position of the comforter before. The pillar of support. 

It really cemented just how far he had come. 

So they watched silently as the girl flinched, pulling away a bit and hunching in on herself. The laugh she let out was small and overflowing with self-degradation. 

“You make it sound as if the rest of your family actually wants me to visit,” she replied sourly. Damian gently cuffed her over the head, frowning. 

“Two things,” he held up two fingers from his free hand. “One: They will. They accepted me, and I was— well, you remember how I used to be. Once they actually meet you, and process the fact that there’s another Wayne now, they will bombard you with more welcoming than you will know what to do with. Two: It’s Our family, Marinette. Not mine, ours.”

Well, at least they had a name now. But it seems like they had bigger issues now, like Marinette’s clearly damaged sense of self. Jason and Tim traded knowing glances; it wasn’t hard for them to guess where, or how, she might have been damaged enough to think so lowly of herself. 

They watched as Marinette shook her head. 

“I don’t know. It’s one thing to try to… to get to know you again. We used to be close before… everything,” she haltingly argued, voice small and frail and uncertain. But she never once looked away from Damian’s eyes, trying to convey as best as she could what she was feeling. “But they’re different. They don’t have any reason to trust or like me, Dami. And I’m bad at, well everything, but especially,” she waved her hands frantically as if indicating the whole situation they were in. “I mean, listen to me! I can barely articulate right now, and I’m talking to someone I’ve known my whole life! I’m a mess. Nobody wants a mess.” 

It was Damian’s turn to snort, and he pulled her right back into his side. “Please. If anything, that’s exactly the type of child Father goes looking for. We’re all a mess. Especially Father, trust me.” 

“You’re just trying to make me feel better,” she accused suspiciously, but sank into his sideways embrace anyway. Damian chuckled. 

“No, I’m being honest. He’s terrible at emotions, not that I really have much room to talk. We all are pretty bad with them. But he’s the most obvious when it comes to that issue,” Damian smirked over at his sister conspiratorially. “For example. He still tries to tell people that he works alone, and pushes people away because he has this intense desire to protect, but doesn’t know how to say “I don’t want you to get hurt, stop worrying me,” so instead he says “Go away, I don’t need you,” only for us to see through that nonsense and remind him that the amount of people in his team is in the double digits already. He doesn’t want to admit he cares about us and is vulnerable—”

“Sounds familiar,” Marinette teased with a watery grin, startling a short laugh from her twin. He nudged her a little roughly (but not to roughly) and playfully glared at her. Marinette just giggled.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he lied with a grin before waving his free hand in dismissal. “Anyway. Another example. He has no idea how to tell a stranger, “hey, I’m your father and I will not reject you. In fact, I’m completely willing to adopt you right this moment and whisk you away to Gotham and relative safety and hire an entire team of therapists to help you and buy you half the world if you asked for it,” so instead he and the rest of our emotionally constipated family just lurks on the edge of a building in broad daylight eavesdropping on us and expects us not to notice.” 

“Wait what,” Marinette’s gaze instantly whipped up towards the sky, taking only half a second to locate the aforementioned eavesdroppers. Everyone except Bruce at least had the courtesy to duck down and pretend not to be there when they noticed she had seen them, leaving Batman standing seemingly alone on the concrete roof. Marinette blinked once. Twice. Then turned to Damian. “I’m gonna blame the fact that I didn’t notice them on emotional turmoil, because there is no way I’ve gotten THAT rusty.” 

Damian smiled, but didn’t laugh. He knew that was a deflection to try and distract from Marinette’s quickly resurging self-consciousness. Her hands were already trembling again, and the fear from only minutes ago had resurfaced. The insecurity. He could practically see the words “I’m not good enough,” written in her irises. 

“You’ll be fine,” he whispered, standing up and pulling her with him. “If anyone has to worry here, it’s me.” 

“What the hell are you talking about?” Marinette whisper-hissed right back, eyes wide in disbelief and confusion. “You’re— You! Mister Perfect!” 

Damian rolled his eyes, and his self-deprecating smirk matched the laugh Marinette had given just a few minutes earlier. “For the League, maybe,” he shrugged. “Never the Wayne family. Which is why I know you’ll be fine. If they put up with everything I’ve done and still call me one of them, they’ll accept you with barely a second thought.” 

Marinette’s next argument was cut off by the sound of a dozen soft footfalls stirring up dirt not far ahead of them. The BatClan had landed from the rooftop. 

Marinette gulped. 

But if there was one thing— one thing she still remembered from her days as Marie Al-Ghul, it was how to fake pride and confidence. She straightened her shoulders automatically, lifted her chin, and pulled away from Damian’s supporting arm around her shoulder. Damian let her. 

A little bit of old resentment flared up in him as he saw Batman walk up close enough to comfortably talk with them. Resentment that he no longer held onto, but that had haunted him nearly every night of the first two years he spent with his dad. The realization that maybe his twin was the one that was meant to be a Wayne. Marie had the blue eyes, the compassion, the more specifically detective-oriented mind. The calm head. Sometimes. Marie was exactly who he imagined when he thought of a naturally born member of the BatClan. Stubborn, clever, morally just. She had risked immediate death just because she refused to fight him, for crying out loud. Because she didn’t want to hurt the boy who used to be her best friend. The only ally she had ever had, growing up. 

Meanwhile, he still had issues reigning in his anger sometimes. He had too much blood on his hands, he was more of a battlefield tactician than a long-term strategist. Still stubborn, but also completely unaware of the pain he brought others with his words or actions a lot of the time. He used to be such a rage fueled little demon, and thinking about how his sister fit the classic Wayne outline more thoroughly than he did had made him destroy more than a few practice dummies in frustration. 

But now, looking at Marinette trying so hard to appear strong and proud when he knew she was still so shattered inside, relief overpowered the old and dull resentment. This was what she needed, he could sense that easily. She, just like him all those years ago, needed Bruce and the others to start to heal her and reforge what the League had badly molded. 

“... Marinette, I suppose?” Damian nearly facepalmed at his father’s awkward attempt at a conversation starter. Marinette herself was clearly too keyed up and overthinking things to even register any amusement at the lame attempt, merely nodding with an overly serious expression on her face. 

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Monsieur Wayne. Or that’s my name nowadays, that is,” She stumbled a little in her response before clenching her fists and forcing herself to continue as calmly as she could muster up. “My birth name was Marie Al-Ghul.” 

Bruce’s eyebrows visibly furrowed underneath his cowl. “Was?” 

“I…” Marinette finally looked away, shame creeping back onto her face. “I was explicitly told that I was stripped of the Al-Ghul name and would be killed if I ever dared lay claim to it again. So I not-so-legally changed it. And I was later adopted.” 

Several sharp gasps or the hiss of breath through teeth bit through the quiet breeze. Nobody was necessarily surprised, Marinette could see it when she looked through her eyelashes and examined the winces and sympathy on the faces of the vigilantes before her. Batman’s shoulders were stiff, as if someone had paralyzed only his shoulder blades. 

“And the people who adopted you?” Batman pursued. Marinette couldn’t read his tone very well, but it sounded vaguely angry so she quickly raised her hands in a placating gesture and her eyes widened significantly. 

“They’ve been amazing! They don’t know anything about my past, or who raised me, but they are endlessly patient with me. I mean, honestly! Sabine caught me when I was trying to steal one of her gold bracelets in Hong Kong— and I know I’ve never been as good of a combatant as Dami, but I’ve always been better at sleight of hand and stealth so honestly that’s impressive— and she saw my dirty eight-year-old face and for some reason decided, ‘yeah I want this one as my daughter’ and roped Tom right into it and next thing I know they somehow tailed me to my hideout? I still don’t know how the hell they managed that, but Tom had a huge plate of steaming buns and I was so hungry and suddenly it’s two years later and I’m adopted and we’re on a plane to Paris—” Marinette threw up her hands. “I still don’t fully grasp what happened sometimes.” 

She belatedly seemed to realize that she had just gone on an entire breathless rant at the speed of sound, and slapped her hands over her mouth before lunging into a deep bow. “I apologize! I spoke horridly out of turn!” 

To her surprise though, she was met with a soft laugh instead of a scolding. She jerked in surprise, whipping her head up only to see Batman holding a hand over his chin to hide his large grin. It only took another second for the boys behind him to laugh a lot LESS softly. Nightwing strolled over casually and swung an arm around both her and Damian’s shoulders, playfully nudging her brother with his knee. 

“I think she fits right in, don’t you little D?” 

“Of course,” Damian scoffed, though his eyes were playful. “She is a Wayne by blood. She ‘fits in’ more than you strays.” 

“Dami!” Marinette whipped back to him and puffed out her cheeks. “That was uncalled for!” she barked. Damian held his hands up in surrender. 

“Relax,” he said as soothingly as he could manage. “They know I’m joking,” he dropped his hands and a knowing smirk took over his face. “And besides, now you’re relaxed so my plan worked,” Marinette could only blink at that. She… did feel more relaxed, actually. “Also. I told you you’d be accepted easily. They already consider you one of us.” 

“Wha— there’s no way—” she frantically looked at each of the older men around her, but each of them just shot her a smile or grin and a short nod. Her shoulders and jaw both fell, and it broke a little of everyone’s heart. 

Marinette looked so utterly shocked, bewildered to be accepted as if it was still something profoundly foreign to her. And there was that disbelief in her eyes, that distrust that screamed that she expected some sort of lie here. That told that she thought this would all crumble away at any second. If anyone had any reservations about bringing her into their inner circles, it vanished right that moment. She needed support, or she’d crumble away and they all knew it. 

“How about we start by talking about the situation with Hawkmoth?” Red Robin spoke up, walking forward to stand beside Batman. “I assume that’s a little more in your element?” 

Damian silently vowed to thank Tim later for that. In a silent, completely anonymous way of course. Couldn’t have Tim thinking they were friends or something now, could he? Marinette instantly straightened up and nodded, her confidence returning with a little more sincerity this time. 

“Yeah. Yeah, let me transform again. It’ll be easier to explain.” 

—*—*—*—*—*

It was three weeks later, on Marinette’s third now-weekly visit to the Batcave, when the question finally came up. Jason had asked to spar with Marinette for the first time, having seen her in action as Ladybug and wanting to test the girl when she didn’t have superpowers to rely on. Damian hadn’t been down in the cave to warn him, and the result was Jason’s gut sinking as Marinette scrambled as far away from him as she could, eyes wide and chest heaving in the beginnings of a panic attack. 

“Shit,” Jason muttered before he quickly knelt down and did his best to talk her down, to calm her until her breathing slowed and her pupils were back to normal. It wasn’t long afterwards that Marinette started hugging herself, refusing to look at him. But he wasn’t going to just back down, he wanted to solve this issue. If even the mere suggestion of a spar was enough to set her off, he needed to figure out why and fix it. 

So he carefully lowered himself so he was sitting only a foot away from her, resting his arms across his knees casually. 

“Sorry,” he apologized. “Didn’t think it would be a sore subject. That’s on me.” 

Marinette just shrugged, but didn’t answer him. She just buried her face in her arms and took a shaky breath. 

Jason let the silence linger for a while before trying again. “Does this have to do with certain Asshole Assassins?” 

That startled a slightly hysterical bark of laughter from her, and she had to wipe away a few tears when she raised her head and finally turned it in his direction slightly. Not enough for her to be looking at him,  but just a subtle turn to show that she was listening and speaking to him. “Yeah.” 

“You know, you never told us why you got disowned,” Jason tried to make his words as casual as possible, but wasn’t surprised when Marinette still stiffened and took a sharp breath. He didn’t push. The stage was set, and he’d wait until either she took the opportunity to open up or told him to leave well enough alone. Her tongue flicked out to wet her lips, and her foot tapped on the ground a bit. Clear signs of her anxiety around the subject, and Jason’s hopes vanished a little. He would probably have to wait longer for her to be ready to share.

But, to his pleasant surprise, he was wrong. She took another few minutes to gather her thoughts, but she did eventually open up to him. 

“I refused to fight Damian,” she admitted. “It was… We were seven. It wasn’t supposed to be a fight to the death, but it was a very important spar. We were using live weaponry, and we were told to fight until we couldn’t anymore. Whoever fell first would be relegated as a mere soldier, and have to fight for status like any other assassin in the League. The winner would officially be named as G— as Ra’s Heir. I didn’t want to fight, because I knew Damian would win but I also knew that it wouldn’t be as easy as Ra’s probably expected if I gave it my all like he wanted. I knew both Damian and I would be heavily injured if I did as he asked, and it wouldn’t be worth it. If I misjudged anything, any single hit, I could have accidentally injured Damian permanently and ruined his worth in Ra’s eyes, and that wasn’t an option. I didn’t care that throwing the fight was as good as giving up my life, because at least I could be sure that Damian kept his. I could make sure that he was treated well, or as well as anyone could hope for in the League anyway. I could, with only a few words, make sure he became indispensable. Ra’s and Talia never liked me as much as Damian anyway, I figured… I figured it was nobody’s loss,” She swallowed heavily, clenching her eyes shut. “I was always just the spare. The extra. Damian was their crown prince, the one with actual value. Even to me. I saw him, and I saw everything I wanted to be. I… I tossed down my weapons and let him stab me, because I figured I owed it to him for being such a failure in comparison to him. That I owed it to him to do everything I could to make things easier for him, since I was just an unnecessary obstacle—” strong arms wrapped around her, and she turned to sob into Jason’s chest as he just silently held her. 

“Idiot,” Damian whispered, making Marinette jump. Her twin sat only a few feet away, though only Jason would have known when exactly he had gotten there with them. He shook his head at her. “I never would have gotten as far as I did without you,” he whispered, looking up at the cave ceiling. “You were the only real rival I had. When you left, everything was either too easy or nearly impossible, nothing was the same as trying my best against someone who was just as good as me. And when I got here and met the others, I didn’t think any of them were worthy of taking your position, you know,” he scoffed a bit as he got lost in his memories. “That’s why I hated Tim for so long, I think. He reminded me of you so much that I wanted nothing more than to punch him for daring to replace you—”

“Heh, the Replacement twice over, huh?” Jason joked. Damian chuckled with a small eye roll. 

“Plus, he just has a really punchable face,” Damian added, trying to distract from the emotion behind everything he had just admitted. “Part of me thought you were dead. The other part refused to believe that. And seeing Tim and how some of his mannerisms were the same as yours,” Damian shrugged a little. “It stung. Especially that second year, when I started to regret that you never had the chance to come here and join them with me. Meet them with me.” 

Marinette sniffled. “... Who are you and what have you done with Dami? He’s never this sappy.” 

Damian flicked a pebble at her head with a good natured glare, successfully diffusing the serious air a little. Marinette wouldn’t ever be normal, and it would take a while before she was no longer fragile, but she could get there. Especially now that her bridges with her brother had been mended, and and a whole new family had cropped up to help support her. 

She was glad Damian had convinced her to try, again.  

[cayenne-twilight]

Professor Layton Iceberg Explanation

As I said in the tags of the original, the iceberg I made was a meme consisting of both real theories and satire/parodies/fandom memes. If anyone is interested, I can work on an unironic version that only has real theories.

Buckle in because this post is LONG and heavily saturated with lore and information.

Actual theories

Parallel universe 1960s where the world wars didn’t happen. There’s an unused file in Curious Village that shows the year as 1960 and the time machine from UF is set to 1973, ten years into the future. The series canonically takes place in an undefined time period (hence the technological inaccuracies and fantasy elements), but it’s based off the 60s. There’s more evidence but we don’t have time to go over every little thing. I linked my “no wars” theory below but TL;DR the outdated airplanes and underdeveloped medicine in the Layton series imply that the world wars may never have happened. https://cayenne-twilight.tumblr.com/post/632205992162099200/outofcontextdiscord-timegearremix-zonosils-war

The real meaning behind the statue in Future London. In UF, the purpose of the statue is to spark Layton and Luke’s conversation about their friendship. Luke is stressing out about moving overseas and sees himself and the professor in the story behind the statue, but in the bigger picture, Clive must have been the one to commission it. Some theorize that the little boy is Clive and the man is either his father or the professor. One idea I’ve seen is that Clive wishes he could be Luke for real, while another is that he wishes he died ten years ago, and another is that he’s literally terminally ill explaining why he doesn’t care about consequence. Personally, I think “the boy succumbed to his illness” refers to his mental illness seeing as he wanted the professor to save him from his madness as he saved him all those years ago.

True location of Monte D’Or. there are no deserts on the British isles to my knowledge, so it makes the most sense for Monte D’Or to be in Southwest USA where English is the default language, they have a desert, and there exists a city famous for flashy hotels, casinos, and entertainment. What makes it odd is that nobody ever mentions overseas travel, and all the major characters are from England.

Loosha’s origins are not explicitly explained if I remember correctly, but the implication was that her prehistoric (supposedly) species was sealed away along with the garden, allowing them to survive all the way to the time of LS until Loosha was the only one left. The garden provided a good habitat and protection from predators, and it’s logical that they’d slowly die out anyways, but there’s no explanation of any specific factors that led to Loosha being the last.

Beasley is not a bee I wrote a post about this one as well, but TL;DR Beasly lacks several defining bee traits whilst having several human ones. He is not human, yet, by definition, not a bee. It’s possible that he is the result of Dimitri’s testing, but whatever his untold story is, he remains an enigma of nature. https://cayenne-twilight.tumblr.com/post/632381715250282496/theory-beasly-isnt-a-bee

Subject 2’s identity is currently unknown. There is a subject one (parrot) and subject 3 (rabbit) so there has to be a second. For a long time, people suspected Beasly to be him seeing as he’s a bit of an amalgamation and definitely not a regular bee (see above). After the release of LMJ, though, people began to suspect Sherl, the intelligent hound who could speak to certain people but not others. That being said, it’s possible for one to be subject 4. Sherl’s memory of a bright flash matches up with subject 3’s memory of being electrocuted. They never explain why the animals were being experimented on, but it was probably Dimitri making sure the conditions of his machine were safe for humans before reliving the incident from ten years ago.

Lady Violet died from the plague from DB. There’s no evidence for this or anything, it’s just an idea. People say she died from the flu but I don’t remember them saying that in the game, at least the US version. Extending off my “no war” theory: it’s theorized that the Spanish Flu was spread by the travlelling soldiers, so if that’s true, it’s possible for the epidemic to have been averted for some decades. Maybe the Spanish Flu reached England later than in real life. The hole in this is that DB’s plague must’ve been close in time to 1918 while Violet’s death was much later, so it would’ve had to stick around.

Bill Hawks is working with Targent and Arthur Cantabella. There was a force in the shadows buying the time machine technology from Bill. Someone with a ton of money who helped him cover up a freak accident and get away with it completely, a feat that involved shady means like violence by hired thugs. Some theorize that it was Targent, seeking power over time in exchange for a little mafia magic. The Labarynthia project was sponsored by the UK government, so as the PM, Bill must’ve known about it. He probably supported dubiously ethical, high stakes (witch pun) psychological experiments like Cantabella’s and helped him stay in the shadows.

All the NPCs in St. Mystere and Folsense are dead. I make fun of this type of theory later, but they’re admittedly captivating. I’m pretty sure the canon in CV is that the villagers are Bruno and Augustus’s OCs that they made robots of and built a town around, but it’s more interesting to think that the village was there before, and the townspeople died of a plague and were replaced like Lady Violet. In Folsense, there really was a plague and they never explain the NPCs there. They’re either real people who appear way younger than they are due to hallucinations (even the ones who already look old ?), or they don’t exist at all, which is pretty spooky. This part of the story is a gaping plot hole. In a similar vein to CV, the edgy yet plausible theory is that they used to live in Folsense but died of the plague and now live on as hallucinations.

Hershel seeing everything as a puzzle is a coping mechanism for all his trauma. This was a joke but I thought about it for more than five seconds and it makes way too much sense.

Plot holes and unexplained questions that we like to overthink because it’s fun

The downfall of the Azran was vaguely explained in canon by people being so greedy that it lead to the civilization collapsing. It’s not a stretch to imagine that happening, but it would’ve been more interesting with a little more detail.

Layton and Luke are programmed to routinely forget how to walk. I didn’t know whether to list this in the joke section or not, but it’s odd that the characters actively participate in the walking tutorial (as opposed to showing a little memo to the player) as if they didn’t know how to before, especially when they go through this several times a year.

The truth behind Pavel. He’s simply a joke character who teleports, is a polyglot (sort of, at least he wants us to think he is) and is mega confused all the time. He’s a fun character to make crack theories about because of his cryptic nature that even he doesn’t seem to understand.

Miracle Mask deleted scenes. The first trailer for MM featured animations that were not in the final game. One was the Randall falling scene, except in a slightly different style than the one we know. Others were completely foreign, like Layton and Luke pacing across a theatre stage as if Layton’s about to expose someone with a dramatic point. Cut content and “could’ve beens” are always curious to think about.

Evan Barde: secret mastermind. Arianna and Tony’s dad is a mysterious character who died under mysterious circumstances. I think the canon is that his death was a genuine accident, but concept art of him making a creepy evil face suggests that maybe he originally had a larger role in the first drafts of LS than the finished game.

The secret to how Paul and Des pull off their disguises is unclear and will remain unclear. There is no plausible explanation for their shape shifting. Unless Paul is just a little dude wearing a human suit like that one Wizard of Oz species and Des is the best quick-changer ever and hides his naturally feminine legs under his cloak.

Alfendi’s mom. When LBMR came out people scrambled to piece together who Hershel had a kid with, but there’s no way alfendi is his biological son. This happened with Kat as well and her biological parents turned out to be brand new characters, so I’m sure Al will get an adoption backstory if his arc continues, be his parents old major characters or nameless, faceless NPCs.

Granny Riddleton and Stachenscarfen are omnipotent deities. Idk which section this fits best under, but these two characters have some serious power. At first introduction, they’re implied to be robots, but they appear everywhere in later games. They follow the Professor wherever he goes and assist him on his adventures, GR collecting puzzles and housing them by some odd magic, and Stachen teaches you how to walk. They both introduce and supervise the gameplay. By extension, I guess this idea could apply to Albus as well in the prequels. GR and Stachen even had the power to appear in LMJ, something no major character could do. I consider them akin to the velvet room attendants from the Persona games.

Clive’s kill count is a vague subject in the game for the sake of keeping it PG. I don’t know if anyone’s ever mathematically estimated the damage he caused, and I sure don’t want to try, but the game appears to push the idea that he didn’t kill anyone at all, saying they stopped him in the nick of time and things like that, even though we watch him raze the city. If they ever want to bring him back post-time skip, I can see them twisting it so that the mobile fortress cutscene wasn’t a linear sequence of events, but instead a compilation of scenes over the course of hours so that London neighborhoods around him could be evacuated and have it make sense. Knowing Level-5, it’s more likely that they wouldn’t think this deep and do something more lazy, though.

Memes and references

Post-time skip Flora is real references the famous L is real theory from Super Mario 64. Like Luigi in SM64, Flora was also a highly anticipated character who didn’t appear in a new game, in this case LMJ or LMDA. In the end, Luigi did become real in the DS port so hopefully Flora is real will be realized as well.

Hershel can’t read is a veteran fandom meme referring to how in the first few games, especially Curious Village, Layton asks Luke to read every document out loud for him. Perhaps this was an exercise to improve Luke’s reading skills and independent thinking, or perhaps he was just too lazy or preoccupied to do it himself, but this grew into the joke that our genius Professor was actually illiterate this whole time.

Layton’s smash invitation is hidden in PLvsAA. It’s no secret that the fandom would kill a man to get the Professor into the smash brothers franchise. In PLvsAA one of the puzzle artworks features a goat eating a familiar white envelope with a red stamp, sparking the joke that either Layton or Wright got the invitation their respective fans desired, but it got lost along the way.

The science board is the mysteriously vague organization Don Paolo got kicked out of for the crime of being evil. It’s the epitome of liberal arts majors and art school graduates trying to bs their way around not knowing any science and failing miserably. “He was very good at all the sciences, but then the CEO of science told him to stop because he was using the power of science for evil science”. They do this again when “Dr. Stahngun” describes his time machine what with the soolha coils and whatnot.

Hoogland is death cult initiation is a parody of “Mario 64 is Freemason initiation” which is ridiculous, just like the creepy human sacrifice subplot of AL.

You can see the reflection of someone watching you in Aurora’s eye references the famous, creepy Talking Angela theory. In retrospect it would’ve been funnier if I said Angela instead of Aurora.

Every copy of Professor Layton is personalized references the famous “every copy of Super Mario 64 is personalized”

Clive’s fat ass in HD is a meme that originated from the announcement of UFHD, saying that half of the excited fans wanted to cry again while the other half were simply attracted to Clive. If we want to enter real bottom-section-of-the-iceberg-chart territory then let’s say Clive’s character has some sort of psychological siren properties that draw people to him like a magnet and/or Harry Styles.

Things I pulled out of my ass for shits and giggles

Infinite hint coin hack: I’m sure a tech savvy cheater could hack the game for infinite hint coins, but there’s no easy or interesting way. I don’t know why someone would do that though, considering a lot of the hints suck and there are puzzle guides on the internet.

Cringy, unused Randall villain monologue. This joke is derived from the actual scrapped MM content as well as deleted content being a popular element of iceberg charts, but it’s sadly not real. Would’ve been hilarious, though.

Last Specter Puzzle 031: Light Height tracks and records children’s intelligence level. It doesn’t, but it’s always fun to make fun of arguably THE most ridiculously difficult puzzle in the franchise. (Seriously, do they expect 7+ year olds to know trigonometry???)

Hershel struggles with tea addiction. Hershel from the games drinks tea in moderation, but the manga begs to differ. He has a tea set in the Laytonmobile, and an attempt at teatime while driving causes him to crash.

Folsense is a metaphor for Alzheimer’s. This is inspired by those edgy kids’ show theories where everyone’s in hell or something, but nobody has ever said this.

London Life is reality and the plot of the games is all in Luke’s head. That’s one way to fill every plot hole. How funny would it be if Luke made up crazy characters and stories based off his fellow townspeople Sharkboy and Lavagirl style. “This dude who lives in a castle and asks people to give him all their money for nothing in return is a vampire from 50 years ago involved in a tragic love story”.

Secret ending encoded into Tago’s Head Gymnastics. It’d be crazy if there was, and Dimitri would hound Tago for the secret to time travel. If you didn’t know, the Layton games started as an adaption of Akira Tago’s puzzle series, except they decided to add a story to make it more interesting and marketable.

Daily puzzles datamine your DS. I’m bad with technology but is it even possible to datamine a DS??? Idk, but I think my DS lite from 2008 is safe.

[disasterofastory]

Christian Girl Part 3 (Halfdan x Reader)

Christian Girl Part 3

Halfdan x Reader

Warning: mention of death, smut

Here it comes the last part of Christian Girl with Halfdan. I tried to write smut so please tell me, what do you think because I feel a little bit awkward about it.

You still don’t know why the God brought Halfdan into your life. He probably wanted to challenge your faith in him, but you failed miserably. You couldn’t resist the tall Viking with tattooed face and blonde hair.

In your dreams, you still see his brown eyes and cheeky smile.

He had to leave almost a year ago with the others to stop Ivar. You didn’t hear from him since then. Your heard news about The Boneless and Bjorn, but nobody talked about Halfdan.

At night in the privacy of your room, you prayed for the Gods. You knew your God wouldn't help a pagan, and you had no idea how to talk with the Viking gods, but you had to try. You needed someone to help him on his journeys. You continued to work in the castle. You cooked and cleaned, and if you had a chance, you went to the forest to practice. It seemed everybody moved on with their lives, but you couldn’t. You waited.

You start to clean up the kitchen after breakfast when one of the servant girls runs in almost breathlessly. She looks upset, leaning on the table in the middle of the room. Her light brown hair is messy, and her eyes fearful.

“Are you okay?” You ask her, confused. Your hands are wet from washing the dishes.

“The Vikings are coming,” she pants. “The King wants to fight against them, but he commands everyone to leave the castle.”

You heard gossips about the pagans for weeks. Someone said Bjorn is here to side with Alfred, while others said he is with Ivar. You didn't believe any of them.

“Oh!” This is the only thing you can say after her words. In your mind, you already make plans for how to escape into the forest. Nobody care for a servant girl, so probably it will be the easiest part of your journey.

“Then go and pack your things,” you tell her impatiently. You don’t have time to waste. After she leaves, you dry your hands and go to your room.

Everybody is in panic after the King’s order, so you take advantage of the chaos. You grab everything you need then go to the abandoned corridors to escape. You know this building like the back of your hands. You know where to go to nobody see you on your way out of the castle.

After you reach the trees, you sit down on a log to catch your breath and gather your thoughts. You know you have to stay out of the busy paths, but you have to keep close to them, so maybe you will hear news from the others, and you have to stay near the river. You have weapons to protect yourself and to kill small animals to eat. You have furs to keep you warm at night and clothes which are more suitable for the forest. You change out of your dress before you continue your way deeper into the woods.

You live like this for a few days. You hunt and walk, and at night you try to sleep. Sometimes you hear travelers talk about the news. They say Bjorn and Ubbe negotiate with Alfred against Ivar, but the battle is unavoidable.

You bathe in the cold river on your fifth morning after breakfast, then go to the place where you know the fight will be. It’s probably not your best idea, but you can’t control yourself. You will hide in the woods so nobody will see you.

You walk four days before you reach your destination. You feel tired after your long journey, but you arrive in time.

The forest overlooks a valley where the battle will be, so you see everything. You recognize the King’s army and Ivar’s camp. You make a small camp too for yourself out of sight, hoping nobody will found you.

Every time you see a blonde Viking, your heart skips a beat, but you are too far to see their faces. You still don’t know Halfdan is here or not.

On your fourteenth day living in the forest, the battle starts. You see the armies run to each other, you hear the swords and the screams. Everything happens so fast, but in reality, the battle lasts for hours.

Your lungs hurt because you always have to warn yourself to breathe.

Dead bodies are everywhere, and you pray for the Gods to none of them is Halfdan.

Of course, you are not just a lovesick idiot. In the back of your mind, you make a plan if Ivar wins, and you never see your tattooed Viking again.

Before you know it, the battle is over. At first glance, you don't know why, but then you see a man fall. The people near him stop fighting, and soon the whole crowd is frozen. The Heathen army lost.

The sky is dark when you arrive at the King's camp, and your legs are shaking. It would be safer to stay in the forest out of sight, but you can’t wait anymore. If they see you, you can tell them you came to help the wounded.

Everything calmer than a few hours before. There are torches and campfires to give some light in the night. A lot of men are wounded, but they seem happy. Ivar is dead. They have every reason to celebrate.

Nobody cares for you while you walk among them.

You see him near the forest. He looks out of the dark trees still in his battle wear. As you get close to him, you start to become insecure. What if he forgot you? Or changed his mind? Or find someone else? You almost turn to hide, but he is faster than you. Before you can move, he looks into your eyes. His face and hair are bloody, and there are new scars on his skin, but he didn’t change much. You stop before him a few meters away, staring at him.

“Christian girl,” he says softly with a widening smile.

Your whole body is shaking when you jump in his waiting arms. You don’t care about the mud or the blood, you hug him like your life depends on it.

“I missed you,” you whisper to him. Your legs around his waist, your arms cling to his neck.

“I told you to stay in the forest,” he argues, but it isn't serious.

“I couldn’t wait any longer,” you tell him. For long minutes you stand and hug each other with your face in his neck.

“Halfdan, you didn’t tell me you have a woman.”

You jump at the foreign voice, and you want to climb out of Halfdan’s arms, but he doesn’t let you. He holds you closer with a proud smile.

“These lands are full of treasures,” he jokes with you in his arms.

“I’m Harald, Halfdan’s brother,” he introduces himself.

“I’m Y/N,” you tell him. “Halfdan told me a lot about you.”

“I hope not just the bad things.”

“No, you are important to him,” you answer, and with newfound bravery, you continue. “And because of it, I want to ask you to don’t risk his life ever again.”

The brothers are silent. They seem surprised then both of them start to laugh. Halfdan's arms draw you closer to his body, and Harald pats your shoulder in a friendly way.

“I like her,” he tells his brother and goes back to the others.

“So from now on, I have to ask permission to fight?” Halfdan teases you.

“W-well… if it’s okay?” You reply. You know you can’t change the Viking, and you don’t want to, but it’s not a secret that you want him safe.

“I can live with it,” he smiles. He looks tired but happy.​

He tells you about his year while you eat after you help him wash down the dirt, and you tell him about your last few weeks.

“So… what happens now?” You ask him at the end.

“Ivar is dead. Nobody will avenge him. Harald gave up on his dream to be King of all Norway so Bjorn will take the throne with his remained brothers.”

“And…” you start but can’t find the bravery to finish your sentence. He smiles slyly at you but doesn’t do anything to help you out.

“What?” He asks, smirking.

“Come on!” You hit his arms. “I didn’t hide in the forest for nothing!” you argue.

“Wherever I go, you will come with me,” he answers finally. He doesn’t ask you about your opinion. In his mind, you are his woman, and that’s it.

Halfdan grabs a flask of ale before he shows you his tent.

You don’t know what to do with yourself, it’s weird to be alone with him again, but Halfdan doesn’t feel the same. He lays down on the furs and reaches out for you.

“Come,” he says, and you follow him on the makeshift bed.

For a while, you just lay next to each other silently. Your head is on his chest while your arm hugs his waist, and he pets your back. You sip the ale when Halfdan put it to your lips, and it helps you to relax.

Your life changed forever. Nothing will be the same ever again. You are Halfdan’s woman as he said, and you have to learn how to live like a Viking. You are not really afraid of the others, you know, you will prove yourself to be with Halfan.

“What do you thinking about?” He asks after a while.

“You can’t call me Christian girl anymore,” you tell him.

“Why not?” He asks, his chest moves up and down with laughter.

“Because I’m not Christian anymore, am I? I’m with you.”

“Are you ready to throw away your faith for me?” He asks teasingly.

“I think it was never my faith,” you tell him. “I think I just needed somebody to show me something I can believe.”

“And what do you believe now?” He asks. His fingers move up and down on your back. You almost shiver whenever he reaches your side.

“You,” you reply simply. “I prayed for the Gods to bring you back to me.”

“I love you,” he tells you quietly. You think you misheard him, but when you get up from his chest, you see the sincerity in his eyes. He means it. You know it’s a rear moment. Halfdan isn’t an emotional man, he prefers to show you his affection with actions, not with words.

“I love you too,” you smile at him and lean down to his lips.

The kiss is slow at first. He let you lead and decide how far you want to go with him. You leave his lips to kiss down on his face and neck. He smells like ash and ale and herbs.

“Take it off,” you tell him when you can’t go lower because of his tunic. You sit up to help him to get rid of the shirt. You saw his upper body before, but now you can touch him however you want. You kiss him again on his lips and start to go down on his chest. You lick his collarbone, and he answers you with a moan. You move lower and try to hide a smile before you kiss his nipple. He moans again, and his fingers grab your hair to bring your mouth back to him. Your scalp starts to burn in a delicious way.

“Stronger,” you tell him, your breath hits against his lips, and he pulls your hair with more force. When you whimper, he moves on his side, so you lay next to him on your back. He starts to take the lead, but his movements are still slow and steady. He tries to find your boundaries, what you like and what is too much for you.

He didn’t ask, but he is sure you didn’t have sex with other men since you last saw each other, and you definitely didn’t have sex with a Viking before.

After a few kisses, he bites your neck before he continues to kiss you everywhere he can reach with his lips. He takes off your shirt and grabs your arms when you try to hide your bare skin.

“Don’t,” he tells you. “You are beautiful,” he murmurs and licks down between your breast. Your chest moves faster when he takes one of your breasts in his hand and starts to massage it, and after he licks the other one, he bites on it. Your trace the tattoos on his head with your fingers. He pecks your ribs and looks up at you when he reaches your waistband. You lift your bottom so he can take off your pants and panties. He grabs your thigh and opens your legs a little bit.

“You can be rougher, you know? I will tell you if it’s too much,” you tell him when you feel he holds himself back. His fingers twitch on your skin.

“Are you sure?” He asks between two licks on your bellybutton.

“I’m inexperienced, so you have to show me things. You have to show me how do you like it, so we will know it works between us,” you explain breathlessly.

“You are perfect,” he tells you in awe. He almost forgot how easy it is to be with you.

He grabs your waist and turns you on your hands and knees. He pushes down your head and upper body on the pillows and opens your legs more for him. You feel exposed, but the only thing you can do is moan and wiggle your butt. He kneels behind you, grabbing your butt cheeks. He plays with them, slaps them, and at some point, he bites them too before he goes lower.

“What are you-” you start but can’t end your words because of his tongue between your folds. You moan and whimper, and he has to grab onto you, so you don’t move so much. His nails almost break your skin, and you feel the furs on your nipples.

“Halfdan!” You scream when your legs start to shake. Your lower belly is on fire, and your whole body is tense before you explore and almost fall on the bed.

“I love your pussy,” he says breathlessly. You would probably blush if your body wouldn’t already on fire. “Stay like this,” he tells you when you want to change position. You feel him move behind you, you hear him get rid of his pants, and not long after it, he puts his cock between your cheeks. Both of you moan at the sensation. You are sure he leaves marks on your hip with his rough touches when he pulls you closer. He positions himself at your opening and starts to go deeper. His moves are slow and steady. He gives you time to adjust his size.

“All in,” he tells you. His voice is almost a growl.

“Oh, Gods, Halfdan,” you moan. You feel full and so good. “You can move! Please! Move!”

So he moves. He pulls out and goes back in faster and faster. He leans over you and grabs your breast to haul you up against his chest. You almost sit on his knees with his cock inside you. Your nipple peaks between his fingers while he sucks on your neck.

“Halfdan, I’m going to…” you whimper. One of your hands grab his hair, and with the other, you hold his arm to steady yourself. You tighten around him, and he growls in your ear.

“Cum!” He orders, and you do as you are told. You start cumming with him at the same time. His cum fills you and flows out of you into his lap when you stay like this for a few deep breaths. He hugs you close against him, his hands still on your tits. The world slows down, and everything goes quiet.

“You are perfect,” he pants, kissing your shoulder. You can’t move, so you just let him lay you down on the furs properly and draw you onto his chest.

You put your legs between his thighs and hug his waist closer to you.

“So what do you think?” He asks after a while when both of you catch your breaths. “Are we good together?”

“So good,” you murmur in his warm skin.

You fall asleep in his arms for a few hours to wake up in the middle of the night to him between your legs.

Your soul is still full of sins, but now you enjoy every minute of it.

[roughentumble]

did it ever really mean anything?

geraskier, 7k, pining, angst with a happy ending. crossposted to ao3 here

Geralt goes along with Jaskier to meet some of his Oxenfurt friends, and comes to realize he isn't the only one Jaskier gets touchy-feely with or calls "dear heart".

The realization that those gestures don't mean what he thought they did-- that he seemingly doesn't mean as much to Jaskier as he thought-- leaves him a pained, pining mess.

.

~*~*~*~

.

"Gibby!" Jaskier shouts with delight at the sight of his friend and rushes forward to greet her. His arms envelop her with ease, like it's a practiced motion, like he does this all the time, and she folds into the embrace with enthusiasm. "Oh, it's wonderful to see you again, dear heart." He says, and,

Dear heart.

Dear heart.

The phrase ricochets around in Geralt's mind. Jaskier's used that endearment with him before, and it always sounded so weighty, so... meaningful. Dear heart. Doesn't sound like something you throw around for just anybody, but here it is, laid out casually at the feet of someone who he'd never even mentioned before. Someone who wasn't important enough to be the subject of even a passing tale to regale Geralt with on their many nights around a campfire.

He's struck a bit dumb as they continue to greet each other, hands clasped together in a friendly way, patting cheeks and ruffling hair, and he thinks about,

Jaskier, just after a winter apart, standing at a crossroads together, hand pressing only the faintest pressure into his shoulder, lips brushing his cheek so tenderly, words practically whispered right into his ear,

I missed you, dear heart.

The realization comes slow, but hits hard all the same. It twists in his stomach, burrows slowly between his ribs and clenches down tight on his heart.

He doesn't mean as much to Jaskier as he thought.

He's always held value in touch, in words, he's never handed them out easily or casually. And logically, he was aware that Jaskier was his opposite in this regard. Bright and vibrant and eager to bend someone's ear or pull them in close, loose with his affections, Geralt... Geralt knew all that. But somewhere deep down, he'd thought that these were a bridge too far, even for Jaskier. That these tender moments were something of milestones to him as well. They'd felt too weighty, too momentous to be something casual.

So, of course he'd been wrong. He'd known he was wrong, but he'd still held that hope, until... well. Until Jaskier handing out every tender moment he'd had to fight tooth and nail for with Geralt to someone in the middle of a crowded tavern, like it was nothing more than party favors. Like it was almost perfunctory-- that's what you did.

Is this what it looks like? To watch Jaskier with him? Is this what they look like to outsiders? Geralt's never seen him with a friend before.

This is just what he's like with friends.

Geralt's not special.

And he knew that, really he did, but there's knowing something and there's knowing something, and it's so hard to see someone else pulled into the force of gravity that is Jaskier's undivided affections. Given freely, with no expectations of reciprocation, because that's who he is, and,

and it never once mattered they were given to Geralt.

His consternation must show on his face, because Gibby shifts nervously and asks if he's alright. Is he glaring? Must be, although he didn't mean to. Jaskier waves a hand dismissively. "He's fine, just not a big fan of loud places." It's either a smooth lie, or a genuine assumption, but either way the subject is dropped.

"So, Geralt, this is Gibby, and-- well, there'll be time for proper introductions once everyone's here, of course, but suffice to say we had more than a few classes together, and she was my unofficial partner in crime for some time." He ushers the two of them into their seats as he rambles, and Gibby titters goodnaturedly where it's appropriate, but otherwise seems uncomfortable under Geralt's gaze. Her eyes linger a bit too long on a few too many spots on his face that he knows hold things like scars, or unnatural eyes, or the hint of too-sharp canines, and he feels bad for it, truly. It can't be comfortable being on the receiving end of his glare, but he can't quite get his face to arrange itself any other way, so he turns the weight of his gaze to the side instead to inspect the room with unseeing eyes.

Jaskier either doesn't notice the discomfort or decides the best way to deal with it is to ignore it in hopes that time and exposure will ease things.

It doesn't.

More people filter in, join them at the table, and Geralt's introduced to each in turn, and then the group as a whole, but most of it goes in one ear and out the other. He feels bad about it-- Jaskier wanted him to meet his friends, he wanted to meet Jaskier's friends-- but as soon as he gets his eyes to focus, sounds grow vague and muffled, and when he focuses on making out words he loses his ability to connect shapes with any sort of meaning. He spends most of the night with his nose in his ale-- overpriced and watered down, though it is.

He takes in snapshots, catalogs them away. He doesn't want to, but he can't stop himself, mind catching on every instance like a hang-nail, Jaskier's voice,

Dear,

Darling,

You are a wonder,

hand on a knee,

an elbow,

a shoulder,

tucked around a waist,

nose behind someone's ear, whispering conspiratorially,

eyes crinkling at the corners with delight.

There's a man to Geralt's immediate left that, through the haze of the evening and his newest revelation, he recognizes as a bit of a pompous man. Voice a little bit grating, and a little too interested in his own successes, prompting more than one eye roll from Geralt, but Jaskier takes it all in stride, turns everything around into a joke without making it at anyone's expense, pulls the conversation back on track without leaving him behind.

Because Jaskier is easy with affection, talented at making friends,

even with people who aren't necessarily worth it.

.

~*~*~*~

.

He feels as stupid, as foolish, as every one-night-stand who thought Jaskier might stay in some no-name village for her. Of course he never meant anything. Of course they were just casual friends. Of course it was him, getting too intense and making assumptions.

Jaskier couldn't have meant anything bad by it, of course. Hadn't even intended to string anyone along, probably hadn't even realized he'd done so. He was just so funny and charming and personable and free with affection that it sucked you right in, he made you feel important, because for a minute, when those blue eyes lock on you, you are important.

Just. No more important than anyone else he spots.

No more special than the next shiny, flashy thing to catch his attention.

No cruelty in it, just a shortness of attention span and a certain openness that most other folks've had beaten out of them by the world once they reach his age.

Jaskier isn't evil, isn't trying to be calculating by any means, but Geralt lays in bed and clutches a pillow to his chest and aches anyway. Aches over how he'd let himself forget, aches over how he'd let himself be tricked, aches for the closeness he'd thought he had.

.

~*~*~*~

.

The next morning, Geralt gets up early, dons his armor, gets his bags together. He almost leaves, just like that, but-- well. Jaskier might get anxious if he just up and vanishes overnight, and Jaskier hadn't done anything wrong precisely. Geralt doesn't mean this at a punishment. So he knocks on Jaskier's door, and after far too long, he answers, bleary and smelling faintly of vomit.

Geralt comes up with a lie, says a contract came up suddenly, and Jaskier's face falls. "But-- we were supposed to..." He starts, leaning against the door frame for support, then thinks better of whatever he was going to say and heaves out a sigh. "Well. Alright. I suppose it can't be helped."

"I-- I liked meeting your friends." Geralt says, because Jaskier looks sad, and he doesn't want Jaskier to be sad.

Jaskier perks up at that. "Oh, you did? That's wonderful, and they were so eager to meet you too, they absolutely loved you!" Jaskier says enthusiastically.

Geralt thinks back on the space he'd been given all night. No one had bumped him, even accidentally. Almost none would meet his eye.

"I'm glad," he says.

"I," Jaskier's voice sounds a bit odd, maybe a little over-eager as he reaches out to take Geralt's hand in his own, "I have a performance coming up in about a week. I don't know how long this contract will take you, but... if you can, I'd like to see you there."

He should say he can't make it. He should say it'll be a long contract. There isn't even a contract, it's a lie he's making up so he can skulk away and lick his wounds without anyone around to notice and call him out for being pathetic. Jaskier has friends here, they'll come to his performance, he doesn't need Geralt. Instead, what comes out is "We'll see."

Jaskier lights up even further, grips his hand even tighter. His eyes crinkle at the corner, just like they did the night before. "Well, do try your best to make it, my dear. And be safe, alright?" He leans in, and before Geralt can move, plants a kiss right on his cheek. "For good luck." He explains.

Geralt's cheek tingles from the contact. He wants-- he wants to shuck the swords from his back. He wants to explain the contract wasn't real, he wants to shoulder his way into Jaskier's room and press kisses to his mouth until he's red-lipped and rosy-cheeked, he wants-- he wants--

But he doesn't. Because it isn't like that, because Jaskier isn't his, because he doesn't mean it that way. Because Geralt's another in a long list of pining fools, waylaid by Jaskier's effortless charm. Because they're just acquaintances, and none of it ever meant anything.

Geralt steps back, and nods curtly, and Jaskier mimics the gesture in a way that's both mocking and completely fond, and that's that.

.

~*~*~*~

.

He does, actually, stumble on a contract, so he doesn't make a complete liar of himself. A whole stack of them, in fact. There's a little town less than a day's ride out from Oxenfurt, on the opposite side of the city from where he'd initially entered with Jaskier, and it seems they've got more than a few beasties vying for the land they're sitting on.

Ghouls and rotfiends and drowners, oh my.

It's a straight week of shitty, tedious work. Of running himself ragged taking out minor but insistent infestations. Of maybe staying up later than he should, and waking up earlier as well, because in the back of his stupid mind, all he can think about is how Jaskier had asked him to come. As he decapitates a ghoul, the day of the performance in question, he knows-- knows it's not important that he personally shows up. That Jaskier just wants a friend there, anyone he knows, and-- well. He just happens to know Geralt. It's not important. It doesn't mean anything. He's thinking about how it doesn't mean anything when a different ghoul catches him right in the thigh, an impressive swipe of razor-sharp claws, bright-hot and agonizing. He curses under his breath and returns his mind to more pressing matters.

He should've taken the time to wallow, like he'd intended. He should've taken the time to pine and ache and be a miserable bastard. Instead he lost himself in the flow of his work, because--

because--

because Jaskier asked him to come back.

And it was stupid, anyway, to run away, so he might as well keep right on being stupid by ignoring the issue entirely when he lays in bed at night.

The decision to walk back is split-second, but he's also been operating under the assumption that he was definitely going back, his mind and time itself seemingly on some sort of disconnect. He's back in the moment now, maybe, he thinks, though it feels like his brain's been shut off and his feet have been making their own decisions the past few days.

.

~*~*~*~

.

When he stumbles into the tavern-- the same one he'd met Jaskier's friends in, spent the night in-- he's absolutely drenched in rapidly congealing blood. Mostly ghoul, but some his own. Jaskier's on stage, and Geralt's seen him perform often enough that he has a vague idea of what his setlists normally look like, what the usual flow of a performance by Jaskier feels like. He gets the impression he must be more than halfway through already. A few people turn their heads and gasp when he gets closer, shuffle away from him in horror, but no one screams and he isn't kicked out, so he just stumbles over to the nearest wooden beam and leans against it for support.

Jaskier's voice washes over him as he waits, world gone slightly fuzzy at the edges. He should've stopped somewhere to stitch up his side, but-- well. It certainly won't kill him, and...

he didn't want to get there too late. Didn't want to miss this, have Jaskier think he didn't care. Which is a terrible, mindless decision, because they're really not that close, apparently, but, well... Story of his life. He cares too much-- he can't make himself stop caring too much.

It's over too soon, the music giving way to applause and Jaskier's expressions of gratitude, proclaiming the tavern to be a lovely crowd. Without a tune to follow, Geralt suddenly feels bone-deep tired, and his head droops a bit, but somehow-- probably all the blood, honestly-- Jaskier spots him through the throng of people. He pushes through them politely as he can, lute thrown over his shoulder, and makes a beeline for Geralt.

More people turn and gasp as they move out of the way, following Jaskier's line of sight, but he isn't deterred. "Geralt!" He announces brightly, "You made it!" He pauses then, and adds after a moment, "You're absolutely filthy. Didn't think to wash any of that off, darling?"

Darling. The word leaves him feeling hot and cold at the same time. "Didn't want to miss your show." He mumbles, which is a little too honest, but he has a flesh wound, so he thinks he can be forgiven the momentary lapse in judgement.

Jaskier lights up, of course. "Oh, aren't you sweet?" He asks rhetorically, then glances to the side and notices his audience's attention has continued to follow him. "The great White Wolf, back from another successful contract!" He announces as an explanation to attempt to quell their obvious discomfort, sweeping his hand out as if Geralt were something impressive to display, and not a man bleeding all over the floor. Ah, well, he'll clot soon enough anyway. "If you'd be so kind as to draw a bath for my companion, good sir." He calls out, locking eyes with one of the employees and reaching for the purse on his hip.

The man nods and Geralt huffs. "I can pay," he starts, but Jaskier waves him off.

"Nonsense. I just got paid, my treat."

Geralt rolls his eyes. "I also just got paid. I can afford my own bath."

Jaskier grabs his hand and pulls him away from the support beam, following after the person on his way to fill a tub. "You buy us a pitcher, then, or dessert. I'll get the bath." After a moment he screws up his face and glances down at their joined hands. "It's slimy."

"That'd be the blood."

"Ew." His nose scrunches up further, but he doesn't let go.

.

~*~*~*~

.

By the time the bath is filled, the blood's dried just enough that separating their hands is a bit of a hassle, and while Jaskier makes some (justified) disgusted squawking at the way their palms peel apart, Geralt's busy going on a bit of a downward spiral about the prolonged contact. It makes his heart do something funny in his chest, which he then has to chastise with a quick reminder that the gesture doesn't mean what his heart seems to think it means, which then leads to a lovely (it is not actually lovely) sinking feeling in his stomach.

"Well, hurry up and shuck the armor." Jaskier says, apparently having paid the man while Geralt was busy staring at his own palm. "You're not going to get any cleaner just standing there." He swirls his hand around in the bath, then uses the rim to scrape off the worst of the gunk.

Geralt sets to work unbuckling what needs unbuckling, trying not to think too hard about Jaskier's little pet names and affectionate gestures. Jaskier watches out of the corner of his eye-- not perversely, so much as critically. "You're quiet." He says. Geralt flicks his eyes up, then back down to the buckle on his left side. His fingers slip off it, and he mutters a quiet curse as he attempts to wipe his hands off on his pants, to no avail.

"Aren't I always?" He responds, and manages to get the buckle on his second try with a liberal usage of fingernails.

Jaskier tilts his head, considering. "Not quite like this, no."

Is he acting different? He doesn't feel like he's acting different. He almost looks up-- gets as far as seeing Jaskier's boots before he's looking back down again-- and wonders if maybe it's that he can't seem to make eye contact. His chest piece hits the floor and he works on peeling off his shirt, steadfastly ignoring Jaskier's scrutiny.

"Did something happen on your last contract?" He asks, voice laced with concern.

Other than the chunk missing from my leg because I was too busy brooding? He thinks, but doesn't say. "No," he says instead, bending over to unlace his boots. Jaskier makes a little, appraising sort of hum, but doesn't press further. When Geralt straightens, Jaskier has his back turned, slipping his doublet off his shoulders and hanging it on a nearby hook. He stays like that as he rolls his shirt sleeves up to elbows, and Geralt takes the opportunity to shuck his pants(makes a mental note to patch the thigh, now in tatters) and slip into the waiting tub.

The hot water feels better than he'd like to admit, though he can't help the small hiss that escapes as it envelopes his thigh. Jaskier looks sharply over his shoulder at the sound, eyes narrowing. "You're hurt, aren't you?" He asks, turned to face Geralt now, hands on hips. "Should've known some of that blood was yours... I thought I told you not to do that. What did you waste the luck I gave you on?"

And really, Geralt has something for this, some quip he could come back with, but the memory of Jaskier's kiss-- just a little peck, nothing more, and yet-- makes his stomach twist uncomfortably and all words flee him. He grunts back, and Jaskier heaves an exasperated sigh. "Of course. How silly of me. I've seen the light." He says in a deadpan drawl, dragging over a stool so he can sit beside the tub. "One of these days I'm going to crack through that grumpy exterior and find the soft, gooey center I know you have." His voice is light, teasing, and he picks up a wash cloth and reaches for Geralt as if to help, and it's suddenly too much.

Geralt doesn't know what it all means, except that it must not mean anything, because it seems to easily handed out to everyone, equally. He's not so selfish that he feels entitled to some sort of special treatment, but he doesn't-- he doesn't know what it means. Just that it suddenly feels very hollow, and far too casual, and he can't stand the idea of those hands touching his skin casually. Like it means nothing. Like he's anybody.

His body jerks out of the way to avoid Jaskier's touch of its own accord. "Geralt?" Jaskier asks, sounding almost alarmed, and Geralt heaves out an answering sigh, dragging a hand down his face. His hair falls down around his bowed head like a clumpy, bloody curtain. He doesn't know how to act, now that the dynamic's shifted-- or now that he understands it better, anyway. He's suddenly very tired.

"Geralt, are you sure you're alright?" Back to concerned again, hand reaching for Geralt's shoulder, but he flinches away before they touch.

"I'm fine." He grits out.

"Dear heart,"

"Don't call me that." He bites back, bowing his head further. Because I can't tell, he thinks to himself miserably, I can't differentiate. I can't make myself remember how you mean it. It feels too real.

"But I--" Jaskier starts, only to get cut off once more.

"I said don't." I can't take it. I can't take it.

After a tense, quiet moment, Jaskier finally says "Alright." and he sounds defeated, but a weight lifts itself from Geralt's chest, knowing he won't have those words burrowing their way under his skin any longer.

Guilt starts to creep in as seconds tick past and the room remains silent but for the water gently lapping at the sides of the tub. Jaskier asked him to come, was excited about this performance, but Geralt had never asked what made this one special, and now here he was elbow deep in Geralt's mess and miserable. He feels his stomach twist itself into knots all over again. He hadn't meant--

He chews on the inside of his cheek, hunches in a little further. Reaches out tentatively, but keeps his head bowed and face obscured. "Could--" And even as quietly as he said it, his voice sounds almost painfully loud in the silence. "Could you pass the..." He trails off, but the soap is placed in his upturned palm anyway. He hums a short 'thank you' sort of sound, but he just holds the bar in his hands, examining it. Jaskier doesn't say anything. "You were good tonight." Barely more than a whisper, but it still feels so loud. Is there an echo, or is it just his imagination? "I'm sorry I wasn't here sooner." The silence stretches on, and he almost thinks there won't be a response at all.

"Are you just saying that to make me feel better?" His voice is carefully even.

It startles Geralt a bit, and he glances up, brow furrowed. "No, I... I wouldn't..." He looks away again, down at the water. It's too pink, saturated with blood. He'll never be able to get fully clean. "I liked it." He says again, unsure of how to say it in a way that proves he means it. "It's-- your voice is... soothing."

Jaskier huffs a sigh through his nose. "Well, in that case, thank you very much, Geralt." Geralt. Seems too impersonal, after everything, but it's what he'd asked for, isn't it? No right to complain about it now. "I'm glad you made it. Always nice to see a familiar face in the crowd at the end of a long set. Here, let me." He adds as an aside, plucking the bar out of Geralt's hands. Geralt ducks away once more, and Jaskier gets quieter, pleading gently. "Please? If... if you truly want me to leave I will, but... please let me help."

Geralt doesn't say anything for the longest time, and eventually Jaskier reaches out, presses a hand to his shoulder. He flinches again, but he doesn't pull away this time. It rubs up against him wrong, but Jaskier huffs a sigh of relief, and he wants-- he wants it to be like how it was. How he thought things were.

He doesn't want Jaskier to be upset.

He allows the washcloth sliding across his back, and tries to pretend it doesn't just leave him cold.

.

~*~*~*~

.

"I never asked... what made this performance so special?"

"Hmm?" Jaskier's nails scratch over Geralt's scalp pleasantly, and he shrugs. "Oh, nothing in particular. I just wanted you here."

Something warm and sweet curls up low in Geralt's stomach. He tries to remind himself that it doesn't mean anything.

.

~*~*~*~

.

"Before we set out again," Jaskier says the next morning, once Geralt is clean and rested and the world seems more solid under his feet, "I have one more friend I'd like to see, and if you're willing, it would mean a lot to me if you'd come with me and meet her. We've been friends for the longest time, you see, and she's very dear to me, and honestly the group you met the other night were mostly drinking buddies, but she's an actual friend. A companion, you know? So..." There's a sinking feeling in Geralt's stomach as Jaskier continues to ramble, but Jaskier looks so hopeful, hands clutched around his lute strap like that, eyes glittering... Geralt steels his resolve and agrees.

.

~*~*~*~

.

He berates himself on the short walk to her house. Honestly, if he can't handle meeting one friend-- one-- just because they're closer to Jaskier than he is, he's even more pathetic than he thought.

He can handle this. It won't be fun, but he can handle it.

.

~*~*~*~

.

They're gorgeous together. Her hair is blonde where his is russet, eyes a deep, honey brown where his are bright and blue, but otherwise they look alike in that way that only disgustingly gorgeous couples do. She matches his wit, and they share a passion, and once Jaskier gets over his seeming allergy to commitment, Geralt could envision him back here. With her. Making music together, a perfect little matching set. It works too well for it to go any other way. And even if they don't figure it out, well... they're very close. Best of friends.

He calls her dear heart and misery claws its way up Geralt's throat.

Geralt waits until Jaskier is in the middle of a story he's already heard to very quietly excuse himself for some fresh air. He steps out the front door and leans against the exterior wall of Priscilla's rented home.

How selfish, he thinks, standing alone outside the house of a woman he barely knows, waiting on a friend who's barely a friend, how fucking selfish.

What right does he have to jealousy?

What right do I have? He thinks, almost wildly, an edge of hysteria to his thoughts, what right do I have,

we're not even that close.

.

~*~*~*~

.

Apparently he takes too long, because eventually the front door creaks and Jaskier joins him outside, looking confused. "Is everything alright? What are you doing out here?"

"Fine." Geralt keeps his eyes closed and his head tilted back, pressed against the bricks. "Just needed some air."

"Air?" He parrots back incredulously, brow furrowed.

Geralt presses his head back against the bricks more firmly, so they dig into the back of his skull, little dull pinpricks of pain. "Priscilla's nice." He says, to avoid the topic of why he's outside, and because it's true.

Jaskier lights up at that, steps a bit closer. "Isn't she just?"

"You make sense, the two of you." Something aches in his chest to say it.

"We do, don't we? Been two peas in a pod, ever since we first bumped into each other at a bardic competition. Oh, and she was so excited to meet you, as well, what with all the stories and the songs n' such."

Geralt can't help but snort at that. "Mhmm, sure she was over the moon."

Jaskier's brow furrows again. "Well, what do you mean by that?"

He sighs. "Nothing. Don't worry about it."

"No, clearly something's wrong, I want to know what."

Certainly Priscilla had been made of stronger stuff than Jaskier's other bard friends, hadn't so much as flinched, but the rest... "Most people aren't you. They don't really feel much desire to fraternize with witchers."

"Oh, that again." He says dismissively, rolling his eyes. "Well, these aren't most people, they're my friends, whom I've regaled with many a tale of both your bravery and your kindness."

"Lots of people you talk to still don't like witchers by the end."

"Are you doubting my abilities as a storyteller, or just as a judge of character?" he asks hotly, arms crossed over his chest. "I know them, they wouldn't--"

"I'm not a complete fool, I know when people are frightened of me." He bites out, harsher than he meant to.

There's a beat of silence as he stares sullenly at his feet. "Oh, darling..." Jaskier says, tone pivoting to something sad and earnest as his hand reaches out.

"I asked you not to call me that." He says, same harsh tone, because the endearment twists between his ribs, and Jaskier's hand falters, his shoulders slump a bit further.

"I thought-- I mean, you'd only mentioned... I thought you just didn't like dear heart, but I can... I can stop using others too, if you'd like." He sounds soft and confused and a little bit hurt, and Geralt groans, scrubs a hand down his face.

"Fine, it's-- fine. I am a fool, actually. Just... call me what you like."

"No, if it upsets you, I won't say it anymore, just tell me which ones to avoid and I will."

"It doesn't matter, Jaskier, it's fine. I'm being stupid. I know that's just what you call people, so..."

Jaskier's entire face scrunches up this time, instead of just his brow. "What do you mean by that?"

He lifts a shoulder, fingers coming together to pinch the bridge of his nose, eyes shut tight. "I mean what it sounds like. You don't mean anything by it. It doesn't matter. Say whatever you're going to say."

"No, you're-- you're phrasing it oddly. What do you mean by that?" He reaches out to grasp at Geralt's wrist, tugging his hand away from his face to try and meet his eye, but Geralt just glances past him instead, eyeing the door.

"We should go back inside. Rude to keep someone waiting."

"You've never cared a day in your life what is or isn't rude."

"I care when the person's nice."

"You've never minded being rude to me, though." He sounds indignant.

"I care when the person's nice." He repeats, trying to pull the conversation back into something approaching companionable ribbing.

Jaskier gasps theatrically, puts a hand to his chest in mock-offense, but blocks the way when Geralt tries to shoulder past. "She's not that nice, and you're not getting out of this conversation. You've been acting oddly for a while, and now the sudden offense over endearments-- what's wrong? I'd like a straight answer, please."

Endearments. As if there's anything endearing about him. He leans back against the wall with a groan, tipping his head back so it thunks gently against the brick.

"It's not..." He tries to say something, but the words get stuck in his throat. He becomes, suddenly, crushingly aware of how embarrassing his current predicament is. "It's... pathetic." He mutters, glancing to the side so he doesn't have to look at Jaskier.

"You don't have to worry, you know I won't judge, not if it's really important." Jaskier's hand comes to rest on Geralt's bicep, and he gives it a reassuring squeeze. "Are you... worried about making friends, perhaps? Because we can get back together with them, give you another chance. Just because you got nervous--"

"It's not that." He replies, exasperated. "It's just... I... I get too attached. I forget who I am... what I am," he says with no small amount of bitterness, "I forget my place."

"Geralt, you don't have a place!" Jaskier visibly cringes at his own words. "Ah, I meant-- of course you have a place, you know, a place amongst friends n' such, I just meant... you're not lesser or anything like that."

"Right..." Geralt lets out a long sigh, scrubs a hand down his face once more. "It's just... rough being reminded that you're more important to me than I am to you." He clicks his tongue, mouth twisting into a frown. "Fuck, that sounds manipulative now I say it out loud. I don't mean it that way, it's-- fine, really. It's my fault anyway."

Jaskier inhales sharply and pulls back almost as if struck, mouth agape. "Wh-- Geralt, what are you talking about? You're very important to me!"

Geralt nods along, but he keeps his eyes trained on the ground. "Yeah, like your drinking buddies are important, and the barkeep you know by name is important, and... and everyone is important to you. I know. It's just... it's different for me. But really, it's my fault, I'll... I'll get the moping out of my system eventually, alright?"

"Geralt, I genuinely have no clue what you're talking about, you're incredibly dear to me."

He can't help the snort that escapes at that, but every endearment just stabs him somewhere deep now, brings with it echos of every other time he's said it, like the words meant nothing. Probably because they didn't. "Yeah, dear. Dear heart. I get it." He all but mumbles.

He can see Jaskier's hackles start to raise, out of the corner of his eye, and he turns his head a bit more to escape having to look-- having to see-- "What's wrong with--"

"Nothing." He says before Jaskier can get started. "Nothing wrong with it at all. I just... I built it up to be something it wasn't, in my head, and-- and I know I'm the one in the wrong for it, for making something out of nothing, for getting a scrap of kindness and assuming it had some deeper hidden meaning, when clearly you're just... a nice person. I'm not being accusatory-- not trying to be, anyway."

"Geralt," he says, and he sounds devastated, but that can't... that can't be right, because... because-- he reaches out and grabs Geralt by the shoulders, tries to meet his eyes, but he keeps his head turned away, "where is this even coming from? I-- wait, is this because I called my friends dear heart as well? At the tavern?" He sounds incredulous, and something about the tone makes heat rise in Geralt's cheeks. He scowls and tries to push the feeling down.

"I just thought... I was a fool. I thought you only... I thought... that maybe that kind of closeness was... different for you too, but I'm-- I'm just realizing it wasn't, and I know it's foolish, but it just kind of... it hurts, alright? So just stop trying to say that it's equal, because I know it's more to me, I know I'm... being more."

Jaskier huffs and grips him tighter, tries once more, unsuccessfully, to catch his eye. "If you'd just listen to me, and stop cutting me off, you'd hear what I'm trying to say, which is--"

"Stop--"

He just gets louder, grips tighter, "Which is that you've got it all wrong, you do matter to me. I consider you one of my dearest friends--"

"Just stop, stop trying to--"

"And I'm sorry I made you feel like you didn't. I never meant--"

The words come tumbling out so fast he doesn't have the time to think about what he's saying, or what he really means by it, he's too desperate to get Jaskier to stop. His mind casts back, reuses the metaphor it did when he was alone in his room that first night, and he says, "Yeah, Jaskier, I know, I know you never meant it, you never mean to, I'm just like every other two-bit fool you've left behind in every single shitty town who thought she was special just because you smiled at her, alright? And I'm just realizing that, even though I should've known it didn't mean anything special, because you're nice to everyone. But I didn't, and I let myself think it mattered, like a fool, let myself think I was more important than I was, so just-- hurry up and get your shit together and go kiss Priscilla," Jaskier echoes her name, sounding somewhere between mystified and scandalized, but Geralt barrels forwards, "and leave me behind like every other broken heart you've left strewn across the continent."

"Geralt," miserable, he sounds miserable,

The words stick in his throat, but he forces them out anyway. "And I'm not, I'm not mad at you for being you, or for saying it, or thinking we were some sort of friends, you're-- you're wonderful. That's the problem, see, you're wonderful, I'm mad at myself for reading into it, thinking it meant something more where clearly it--"

Suddenly, hands, strong and sure, are tangled in his hair, grabbing at him, forcing his head forward to finally face Jaskier, and he's tugged down into a kiss. It's little more than the firm press of Jaskier's mouth to his, but it brings his mind and his speech to a screeching halt anyway.

All too soon Jaskier is pulling away, as Geralt sits there, stock-still and dumbfounded. "Of course it means something," he says, quietly into the air between them but no less emphatically for it, "of course it does. It's always meant something when I say it to you." His hands slide forward, come around to cup at Geralt's jaw. "Who else do I travel with, like I travel with you? Who is it I wait for all winter? The pet names, the endearments, all those sweet words-- of course they mean something when I say them to you, darling."

He lets out a sound distressingly close to a whine, but Jaskier is right there, cupping the back of his neck and pulling him in close for another kiss. Geralt's hands come up this time, clutching at Jaskier's back, feeling the warmth of him through the doublet, and he tugs him in close, so they're pressed chest to chest. He kisses Jaskier until he's dizzy with it, his mind reeling, then pulls away just so he can tuck his face into Jaskier's neck and breathe deep, grounding himself.

Jaskier's runs a hand through his hair, petting him gently and pressing him that much closer. "My dear, foolish witcher..." he mumbles fondly.

"I thought--" Jaskier shushes him, murmurs a soft 'I know' against his temple, then tucks his own face into Geralt's neck. Geralt marvels at the feel of him in his hands, at the fact he knows what Jaskier feels like against his mouth, at the fact that this is something he can have, and he can't resist the urge to press a kiss into Jaskier's skin.

He giggles a bit and shies away, as if tickled, and Geralt tucks in closer, presses another kiss to the same spot, this one open-mouthed and sucking. Jaskier lets out an appreciative hum and tilts his head away to open up more space, fingers tracing nonsense patterns across Geralt's shoulders. "Fuck, that's nice... love you so much, darling."

A wounded noise works its way out of his throat, and his chest feels fit to bursting. "I love you too," he says, kissing a desperate line up Jaskier's neck, "I love you, gods, I love you," he repeats between kisses, over and over, until their lips connect again, as if he could somehow press the love into Jaskier's skin, sink the bone-deep truth of it into him in a way it could never leave or be misunderstood.

He walks Jaskier back and presses him up against the wall, intent on kissing him senseless, when he hears someone behind him clear their throat. Both of their heads snap to the side to find Priscilla lounging against the door frame, eyebrow raised and lips upturned. "Do you boys plan on coming back inside, or are we cutting this lunch date short?"

Geralt feels bad about eating into so much of her afternoon with his own problems, and is instantly chastened by her words, but Jaskier seems to hold none of the same reservations, eyes crinkling at the corner happily. "Oh, we'd love to. Good timing, by the way."

"I waited until the sounds of arguing stopped, but apparently I didn't wait long enough." She looks faintly amused.

"He was the one who pushed the issue..." Geralt mutters, face heating up once more.

"Mm, sounds about right. He's a little hellion when he wants to be."

"A compliment, I'm sure." He says brightly, and she rolls her eyes fondly and disappears back into the house, front door left ajar for them to follow after.

Jaskier turns back to Geralt, smiling from ear to ear, and takes his hand in his own. "We can talk more about this, and what it means for us, later." He presses a kiss to Geralt's cheek. "I do love you, dearest." He says quietly, then starts towards the door, tugging Geralt along after him. "For now, let's go finish visiting our friend, hmm? We can head back to our room after that."

Dearest. Our friend. Our room. Geralt's throat gets tight, and he nods weakly. "Yeah. Yeah, I'd like that. As long as you're with me."

"Of course I'm with you." Jaskier's smile gets a bit softer, just that much fonder, and Geralt falls into step beside him.