#( snippet i say as this shit is a little over 1.5k )

[yakultberry]

✪ summary: it's no surprise that doyoung spoils you on your birthday, but somehow, he still takes your breath away. ✪ pairing: law student!doyoung x reader ✪ genre(s): fluff, college au ✪ word count: 1.5k words

✪ a/n: another birthday fic i wrote, this time for my queen @secndlife !! love you, karol 💖 or should i say horanghae ADJFLAJSDLJF anyway, this is just a little snippet of a college au that we sometimes indulge ourselves with hehehe enjoy!

“You have something on your lips, baby.”

You look across the small cafe table at your boyfriend, a small smile spreading on your icing-covered lips. “Well, maybe you should help me clean it up. It’s my birthday after all.”

Doyoung, used to your antics, just rolls his eyes as he grabs a napkin and reaches over to wipe at your mouth. “Ah, so you’re doing this on purpose,” he says with a raised eyebrow, his tone stern. But you don’t miss the subtle way his lips curl up at the corners or the way his eyes instantly soften when they meet yours.

“Maybe,” you hum playfully. Not quite satisfied with his reaction, you press on. “I thought you might have kissed it off, though. It’s more romantic, you know.”

He lets out a huff, scrunching his nose at you. “Oh, so now you’re teasing me!” Even after dating for over a year, Doyoung still can’t help feeling flustered whenever you bat your lashes at him (though he definitely exaggerates his reactions just to see you giggle like you are now). Again, he fails to hide the small smile on his own face. “Just eat the rest of your cake, we have to go soon!”

“Fine, I guess the kisses can wait until later,” you say through your laughter, only to double down when Doyoung lets out another exasperated sound. To everyone else, Doyoung is a put-together, intelligent pre-law student, expertly juggling his studies, vice president duties at the fraternity, and his personal life (that’s you). Those who know Doyoung less, might call him uptight, maybe even overbearing-- it is a common misconception of pre-law majors after all.

To you though, you know that underneath his cool, type A exterior, there is a soft, nurturing side to your boyfriend. As hard as he tried to keep up his facade, the boy never really stood a chance against you; and now, all his love simply flows out through each of his actions, constantly enveloping you in a warmth you’ve never felt before. Still, you can’t help but poke fun at him at times, loving the blush that would creep on his cheeks whenever he tried too hard to hide his affection for you.

“Should I let them know that we’re on our way back now?” you ask as Doyoung finishes up paying the bill.

“Wait no, don’t!”

Just as you pick up your phone, Doyoung places a hand over yours, his eyes wide. Your own narrow at him slowly. “...Why not?” When your dear boyfriend tries to only respond with a smile that more resembles a grimace, it is suddenly your turn to be stern. “Baby.”

“Well, I might have told Johnny and Lily that this was going to be a surprise party. Yuta and Daisy, too.”

You blink. “Doyoung, you do know that to throw a surprise party, the person has to be, you know, surprised. Also, you know I hate surprises!”

“Well yes, that’s why I told you that we’re having a party,” Doyoung explains. He takes your hand in his as you exit the cafe, simply walking up the street to get to your apartment. “I just thought it would be funny to tell Johnny and Lily that they had to go to the apartment early to decorate it before you arrive or something.”

“Oh my god.” The both of you meet eyes with mutual shit-eating grins. For the past summer, the two of you had been persistently trying to set up your two friends to confess their (very obvious) feelings for each other. As the months go on, one of your forms of entertainment has been creating situations where they could be alone. “How long have they been there for?”

“Maybe two hours?”

“Nooo, that’s probably the longest yet!” you cackle heartily, squeezing his hand in yours out of habit. “Oh god, this is why I love you.”

“I know, I know, I’m a genius,” Doyoung sing-songs, chuckling beside you.

“Wait, but if we walk in and find them making out on the couch, I will lowkey fight you,” you deadpan, only half joking. As much as you wanted the two to finally get together, you did not want to see them sucking face in your home. Where you live.

“You promise?”

“Shut up!” Your laughter echoes against the tall buildings lining the street.

The late afternoon sun streams between the gaps of the skyscrapers and washes the apples of your smiling cheeks in a warm summer glow. Although the fall semester has yet to begin, there are many young people bustling about, and your shoulder brushes against Doyoung’s as you leisurely stroll up the sidewalk. It’s moments like these that make him stop and remember how lucky he is to have someone as radiant as you.

He lifts your clasped hands to press a soft kiss to your knuckles. “I love you too, by the way.”

“Hmm, you better.”

It doesn’t take much longer for you to reach your apartment, the both of you excitedly talking about your plans for the evening up until you get on the elevator.

“I texted them we’re on the way up, but Yuta said they’re not ready,” Doyoung laughs.

“It’s fine, I already know anyway!” you say, impatient to start the night’s festivities already. According to Doyoung, he had even bought a table at one of the swankiest clubs in the city, and you did not plan on walking in even slightly sober.

“No but,” Doyoung whispers as you approach the door of your apartment. “You still have to act surprised when we go in, okay? They’ll kill me if they find out.”

“Ugh, fine!”

You can faintly hear frantic whispers and a small commotion behind your apartment door when you reach it, even making out a ‘Johnny, you can’t fit there!’ before everything seems to go still. Doyoung opens the door for you after a moment, and there is a short moment of silence before the lights flash on and streamers are popped.

“SURPRISE!” your friends cheer in unison. You place a hand over your chest in your best attempt to look shocked, though a genuine smile does spread on your face when you see them all there to celebrate with you

“Haha, say hi to the camera!” Johnny, a tall guy with a knack for photography, yells, capturing the exact moment you walk in.

Before you can say anything, your best friends, Lily and Daisy, pull you further into the apartment, which is elaborately decorated with balloons and streamers. There is even a shiny inflated ‘26’ hung on the wall. You can’t help but look at your friends with a pout. “You guys did all of this?”

“Of course we did, bestie!” Lily beams at you, clinging onto your arm. “But thank god you’re here, I was alone with Johnny for so long because Yuta and Daisy got here late.” You laugh at the dirty look she shoots over at Daisy, who simply shrugs.

“We were picking up the drinks and got a little distracted when we were on the way over!”

“Oh right, distracted--”

“Anyway, we brought tequila!” Daisy chirps, flashing the unopened bottle to you. You grin back. Your friends really know you. “Let’s get this party started!”

The pre-game starts off strong with everyone taking shots at your insistence. About three shots later, everyone is in a good mood to start getting ready to leave for the club (except Lily, who seems to already be there from the way she is dancing). Johnny attempts to copy her moves, causing Yuta and Daisy to fall over each other as they laugh loudly. You’re about to join the impromptu dance floor when you feel a hand slip into yours.

You barely have time to smile at Doyoung before he twirls you around, leaving you giggling and breathless. Then, without a word, he guides you out onto the balcony, where he pulls you into his arms. There is something sobering about the soft night air, which isn’t quite the vibe you’re going for. Your laugh cuts through the stillness of the atmosphere. “Doyoung, what are you--”

The way he is looking at you with so much affection makes your heart do a somersault in your chest. “Happy birthday, baby,” he whispers in that delicate, melodic voice of his. Suddenly, he pulls away so that you see that he is holding a large, flat case. He hands it to you, eyes sparkling excitedly. Your eyes, on the other hand, suddenly prick with several tears.

“Wh-what is this?”

“A surprise. Open it!”

With shaky hands, you open the case to reveal a beautiful, gold necklace with a simple diamond-encrusted pendant. You gasp. “Doyoung, you--” your voice gets caught in your throat. “You got this for me? It’s gorgeous, but you really sh-shouldn’t have. I--”

“Yes, I should have,” he laughs, seeing how emotional you’ve gotten. Doyoung pulls you into his embrace and presses a soft kiss to your temple before looking down to meet your eyes. “Do you like it?”

“I love it,” you whisper hoarsely, leaning up to peck him on the lips. You let out a sniffle. “You spoil me.”

“Of course I do, you’re my baby,” he says matter-of-factly. You giggle through your tears and hug him tighter.

And as beautiful as the necklace is, you can’t help but feel that being loved by Kim Doyoung is the best surprise present that life has given you.

#nct #nct 127 #nct 127 scenarios #doyoung #doyoung scenarios #doyoung imagines #doyoung fluff #doyoung fanfic #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct fluff

[bxtchforstyles]

Baby

Y/N is a famous singer and when she releases her new song, her boyfriend is nothing but supportive.

(based of the song Baby by Madison Beer)

Warning: none

Word count: 1.5k

gif not mine.

“I just don’t know what to do for the part after the main chorus,” Y/N sighed from where she stood in the soundbooth. 

She had been working on this particular song for quite some time now, for many hours on many different occasions and just felt like she was never going to get in perfect.  

“I think what you have now sounds good, why are you trying to change it?” Her producer, Luke asked. 

Her slim fingers ran through her hair quickly as she sighed, looking at the ceiling that was covered in soundproof padding.

“Doesn’t it just seem a little too…” She pauses, looking for the right word. “Feministic?” 

Luke immediately shook his head at the idea she was presenting. “Y/N, the entire point of the song is to make every girl on the planet feel good about themselves. It’s not meant to just be some sexy song, it also serves a purpose.” 

Before Y/N could reply though, the door to the studio flung open, revealing Harry, holding two coffees in one of his hands. 

“Nooo,” Y/N dragged out dramatically at the sight of her boyfriend, making Harry give her a confusing look. “The song is not done! And no, I’m not showing it to you when it’s not done!” 

Harry chuckled lightly, setting the two cups on the small coffee table that sat in front of the couch that was behind all of the keypads and buttons that controlled the audio recordings. 

 Y/N flung the headphones that had been put over her head off and onto the stand where they usually sat before she opened the door to the soundbooth and walked into the regular studio area. 

“Why can’t I just hear a little snippet of it?” Harry whined, leaning his head back against the couch. 

Y/N sat next to him on the light purple couch, leaning her back against the armrest as she threw her feet into her boyfriend’s lap.

“Yeah, Y/N, I think you should show him a little part of it, maybe he could help you write the rest of it.” 

“No.” She immediately rejected as Harry ran his hands up and down her chins, seeing how obviously stressed she was. “It’s not good enough for your award winning ears yet.” 

“You know I’ve always enjoyed your music more than my own love.” 

He was bluffing. “Ha ha. You are so funny.” 

“Y/N, I’m being serious. I want to hear what you have, let me see if I can help at the part you’re stuck on.” He proceeded to beg to hear it, but Y/N didn’t budge. 

In all honesty, Y/N was just scared that Harry wouldn’t like the song to begin with since it had very clear, and sexual interpretations. She didn’t want him to think that this song was all about sex, so she didn’t want him to hear it until it was completely polished and finished. 

“Can we at least show him to instrumentals at the very beginning?” Luke suggested the compromise, making Harry’s eyes gleam with joy. 

“Yes, Yes!” He seemed very excited. “Please, baby? Just let me hear the beginning.” 

“Fine.” She finally gave in. 

Luke hit play, letting the pretty chords begin to play from the computer. 

“Ooo, I like this.” Harry sighed as the music paused before the vocals came into play. “Was the violin?” 

“Yeah, I thought it sounded really cool. Doesn’t it?”

The only thing Harry could think to do was kiss her on the cheek, “Yes darling, it sounds amazing. I can’t wait to hear the full thing.” 

“Great!” She exclaimed as she got up from the couch, “Because that’s all you get to hear.” 

*******

It wasn’t until a few weeks later when Y/N finally finished that song, and she was still hesitant for Harry to listen to it. 

“Now remember,” She pointed her finger sternly at him as the two of them sat in the studio, “This song is not strictly about sex, I mean it kind  of is, but still, don’t get any ideas.” 

“Love, have you not heard some of the songs I myself have written?” He laughs at her seriousness, only making her glare at him before hitting play. 

The same instrumentals that Y/N had let him listen to a few weeks ago began to play through the overhead speakers as Harry laid his head against Y/N’s shoulder. “I really like this part.” He then sighs. 

She laughed, “Oh just you wait.” 

The lyrics began a few moments later, “Baby, baby, tell me what’s the antidote.” 

His eyes widened at the sound of her voice cutting through the soft instrumentals, beautifully, but also seductively. 

“Wouldn’t text you this late less there's something wrong.” 

Y/N was watching him carefully, not being quite one hundred percent sure if he liked it or not yet. 

She also started singing along quietly, “I look too good to be in the bedroom without someone to touch me like you do.” 

“Holy shit.” He gasped at how amazing the song that his girlfriend had hid from him for so long was. 

Before he knew it, a few lines later the chorus hit. 

“If you wanna be my baby, know I’m gonna drive you mad!” Harry completely lost it at the insane beat drop. 

The rest of the song was still playing in the background, and Harry was still listening intently to the lyrics as he looked at his girlfriend, “Holy fuck, babe! This is so good!” 

“Really? You think so?” 

He was ecstatic for her, “Yes, I think so!” 

They continued listening to the song, and Harry continued to praise her for how amazing she sounded in it. 

“So, now I have a question…” She trailed off once the song was finished. 

Harry looked up at her, “Of course,”

She grabbed his hands as she stood in front of him from where he was sitting “Will you pretty please be in the music video..?”

His eyes widened immediately, not knowing what to say. “What? Is that seriously how you want to announce our relationship?” 

“I mean, we’re going to have to announce it eventually, so why not do it now?”

“I mean…” His voice dwindled, “I’m going to have to talk to Jeff about it, but I don’t think it will be a problem.”

“Yay!” She leaped, wrapping her arms around his neck, his wrapping around her waist immediately after. 

“I’m so excited!” 

“Me too, baby.” He smiled in return. 

******

It was safe to say that the media was not prepared for the relationship of which was Y/N and Harry. Everyone was overly shocked when the song came out, and even more so when the music video came out, featuring Harry. 

Of course there was always going to be a tiny bit of negative comments about anything that celebrities did in the spotlight, the couple expected that. But the amount of immediate support that they gained was completely mind boggling to them, and they couldn’t have felt more grateful. 

All of the fans especially went crazy when they had realized Y/N and Harry went live on instagram as the video first premiered.

“Just so you guys know, Harry hasn’t even seen the completed music video yet!” She yelled over the beginning of the song as the just released video began playing over the big screen of the Tv in the studio. 

Harry only smiled contently as he leaned back in the chair, pulling Y/N’s chair closer to his as he wrapped his arm around both her shoulders. 

By the time the music video had ended, there were over one hundred thousand viewers on the live stream, making Y/N a complete nervous wreck. 

“Okay, guys! We are going to end this live before I completely process how many people are watching this, because once I do, I will have a panic attack.” She tried to play it off as a joke by laughing lightly, but she was completely serious.

“Anyways, thank you guys so much for all of the support and love on Baby, and the music video. We hope that you enjoy it as much as we do. We love you, make sure to look out for the new album coming soon!” 

When Y/N finally ended the live, she let out a sigh of relief as she put her phone back down on the coffee table, basically falling into Harry’s embrace. He kissed her forehead from where he sat, her basically in her lap. 

“I love you, and I’m so proud of you.” He whispered lightly, already feeling Y/N becoming heavier as she began to fall asleep in the chair they were sat in. 

“I love you too, thank you for everything.” She mumbled as he wrapped his arms around her waist. 

“Of course love.” 

#harry x singer! y/n #harry styles #harry styles blog #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles x ofc #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #solo harry

[dhwty-writes]

A Health Hazard

This took a lot longer to write than it had any right to. The first 1.5k words were written in under 2 hours, the rest in thrice that time. I'm done with today and this prompt. Written for day 3: Reading by the fire/cuddling by the fire of @witcher-and-his-bard‘s winter prompts Have fun!

Summary: Geralt of Rivia is bored. This hasn't happened in forever. Literally. He learns to understand Jaskier's whining a lot better. 

Warnings: none, besides the fact that this is unedited

Read on AO3

All things considered, it had taken a surprisingly short time for the impossible to happen. Apparently, all that it took was three weeks. Three weeks cooped up in Jaskier's generously-sized lodgings in Oxenfurt with nothing to do and lo and behold, Geralt of Rivia was bored. Bored! Could you imagine that?

It hadn't been so bad in the beginning. After five days he finally hadn't felt the need to rise with the sun and had let Jaskier kiss him goodbye, running late for a lecture, while he turned over and slept in. He couldn't remember when he had last done that. Truth be told, he couldn't remember if he'd ever done that.

Certainly not since he'd gotten to Kaer Morhen; there was no slacking in the witchers' keep. He briefly wondered if passing out after a fight and waking up days later could count as sleeping in. Probably not.

No, sleeping in was something for the safe and comfortable, and for the first time since he could think Geralt could count himself among them. All thanks to Jaskier, of course, who did his best to spoil his lover rotten. All on the cost of the Oxenfurt Academy, naturally.

The Academy spared no cost or effort to ensure the comfort of their lecturers—and Jaskier wasn't just any lecturer, he was probably the most popular bard on the continent. Geralt had first realised that Jaskier was rich when he had seen his personal study, stocked with books right up to the ceiling. Most of them were beautiful leather-bound tomes, written by hand with detailed pictures. He had felt a bit faint when discovering that some of them were in the second row.

No matter what Jaskier said about gifts from colleagues and magical innovations called a printing spell, books were immeasurable luxuries. And the bard owned close to a hundred of them. Personally.

Still, Geralt had been hesitant, at first, to make use of the private bath that came with the four-room apartment, or to call upon a servant to fetch him things. That was until Jaskier had told him outright how much they paid him for a single lecture, let alone several of them each day for months. If they were willing to pour that much money down the drain, he couldn't really feel bad about it.

So, the following days and weeks Geralt allowed Jaskier to teach him how to enjoy himself. He learned how to sleep in, indulged in almost daily baths, spent his days reading novels and poems out of Jaskier's personal collection. He didn't protest when the bard ordered too much food. Didn't comment on the overabundance of sweets—he even admitted he liked it. And when Jaskier asked for too exotic spices he only raised his eyebrows.

Once he had even ventured into the extensive Academy library—Geralt had never seen so many books in one place in his entire life—to find a collection of chivalrous legends Jaskier had told him about. He had been welcomed by an overly polite librarian, who had gone ahead to recommend him a dozen other books with the same topic, complete with annotations noting upon all the different possible interpretations. And if that hadn't been enough, he had been offered to take them with him. All of them. At once. As long as he liked. With no credentials but the name "Pankratz". He couldn't fathom how the library hadn't been robbed empty yet. When he had told Jaskier so, he had only laughed and kissed him gently, calling him a silly witcher.

It all had culminated when later that day, after Jaskier had ordered their dinner to be brought up to their rooms, it had been Geralt to stop the servant by the arm and ask for a bottle of wine.

"Right away, sir," the servant had answered. "Do you have any preferences?"

"Umm-" After a quick glance back to Jaskier, who had smiled encouragingly, he had added: "Est Est?"

He had half expected to be reprimanded, but the servant had only looked at him as if that had been obvious. "The year, sir. Do you have any preferences for the year?"

"I hear 1260 was especially good," Jaskier had piped up and that had been the end of that. They had had a very nice evening and an even nicer night, albeit neither of them had gotten a lot of sleep.

The problem was that since then over a week had passed. Geralt had read through all the books he had borrowed and leafed through a number of volumes of Jaskier's personal collection. He wasn't feeling like reading anymore. He had visited several taverns to play Gwent, but that too was interesting only for so long.

He had taken Jaskier up on his offer and accompanied him to a few lectures, but that had grown boring, too. Of course, he could talk about his adventure and the content of the poems, but that wasn't what Jaskier and his students were talking about. Instead, they lead very heated discussions about rhymes and metaphors and what Jaskier called a meter ("It's like a rhythm, Geralt."). But in the end, he didn't care if the rhyme was a pair or not, or if the rhythm was an asbestos or a dromedary or something.

He flopped down on the couch with an uncharacteristically dramatic sigh. Jaskier had returned from his last lecture an hour ago and was now holed up in his study doing... something. As if him being away all day wasn't bad enough, he had to continue working afterwards!

Geralt sat up with a start. Shit, was that how Jaskier felt all year round on the Path? It was a horrifying thought; no wonder the bard was so whiny all the time. Well, Geralt was different. He certainly wouldn't stoop so low. No, he definitely wouldn't whine.

 ~*~

 "Jaskier," Geralt whined from his place on the extra armchair they had acquired the previous day. "Are you done yet?"

The poet mouthed some words along while he frantically scribbled them down on yet another snippet of parchment. "Almost, darling, give me a minute," he muttered absentmindedly just like he had half an hour ago.

Geralt threw his head back and groaned loudly. He was going mad; he was sure of it. It was not normal for people to go such a long time without someone charging at them with swords or claws or dirty underwear. It could not be healthy. "D'you think I should talk to Shani?"

"Yeah, yeah," Jaskier mumbled under his breath, flipping through the hundreds of pages of notes he was keeping.

"Hmm." So Jaskier agreed that boredom was a serious health hazard. He drummed his fingers on the armrest. Maybe he should go do it right away?

He got to his feet and was almost at the door when he halted. No, it was late already, sundown a few hours past. He walked back to the armchair. But maybe-

"Geralt," Jaskier said with a heavy sight and put down his pen. "Love. You're pacing." 

"Really?" The witcher grit out. "Wouldn't have noticed."

"Can you just-" He rubbed at his temples. He looked incredibly tired. "I'm sorry, five more minutes, alright? Then we can do whatever you want, what d'you think of that."

"Hm." Geralt thought that was bullshit and that Jaskier should take a break.

But the poet was too engrossed in his own mind to even hear it.

'Alright then,' he thought and sat back down, arms crossed. 'Five more minutes.' He could manage five minutes of meditation. Easily.

He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing, waiting for the calm to settle over him. What followed were probably the longest five fucking minutes of Geralt's life.

No sooner were they over that his eyes snapped open and he rushed over to his bard, holding him close from behind and nuzzling against his neck.

Jaskier chuckled softly. "Hello there. Five minutes over already?"

"Yes," Geralt said resolutely. "What're you writing anyways?" he asked, trying to peer over his bard's shoulder.

Still scribbling, Jaskier answered: "A novel, dear."

"A novel?" he replied and pulled back a little. "Since when?" Jaskier never wrote novels. Songs and poems, yes, and on one memorable occasion a play, too, but they had both agreed that it was horrid and that he should stick to shorter stuff.

He shrugged and slammed the piece of paper onto one of the piles. Apparently, there was an order to the chaos. "The day before yesterday, I think? Didn't really pay attention."

Geralt snorted. That went without saying. "Please tell me you didn't write all that in-"

Jaskier gasped softly and pulled up another sheet of paper. "Shh, give me a minute, love, else I'll forget this sentence. Oh fuck, this is so good-"

He bared his teeth. "You said-"

"Please, Geralt," Jaskier begged. 'Fuck.' The cursed bardlet knew damn well that he couldn't resist him; not with the pure desperation in his voice.

So, Geralt contented himself with grumbling displeased and pressing his nose against Jaskier's neck, while he waited for the scratching of the quill on paper to finally subside.

Thankfully, it didn't take too long for Jaskier to slam the quill down and forcefully push the paper away. "Done," he declared, exhaustion plain in his voice. "I'm done for today."

He raised his eyebrows. "You sure?"

"Y-yeah. I'm sure." The tiny pause was enough for Geralt to know that, no, Jaskier wasn't done in the slightest. If not for him the poet would probably stay up until the early hours of morning, crafting one masterful line after the other. Until he'd inevitably collapse from the exhaustion, smudging the ink of his uppermost sheet of paper all over his face.

He couldn't fathom how much self-control it cost Jaskier to turn around and ask: "So, what is bothering you so terribly, my beloved witcher?"

Geralt glared at him defiantly. It took him all of three seconds to cave. "I'm bored," he complained and frowned.

The effect was instantaneous and his expression grew soft. "Oh, my dear, I'm terribly sorry."

There was something about Jaskier's voice, something about his touch, about the way he brought Geralt close for a gentle kiss. Something that made him go from wanting to believe his words so badly to actually believing them.

The smile on his bard's face was nothing short of adorable when he asked: "Anything I can do about it?"

"Hm." Well, he could think of quite a few things to bide their time.

Before he could voice any of them, though, Jaskier continued: "Yeah, that's what I thought." He stood up and took his hand. "Come on, Geralt, I'm dead on my feet. Let's get somewhere more comfortable, then we can figure that out."

He gladly let himself be led. As long as it meant spending time with Jaskier, he was hardly about to object. The poet flitted around their apartment, collecting pillows and blankets, while he sent Geralt off to heat the kettle and get them some tea, all the while humming with excess energy.

Not fifteen minutes later Geralt found himself on the floor in front of the fireplace with a lapful of bard who was cursing quietly whenever he sipped his too-hot tea and inevitably burnt his tongue. Geralt couldn't help but smile as he cradled his Jaskier closer to his chest.

"What's your novel about?" he whispered into his ear.

"Oh, it's a romance!" he replied cheerfully.

Geralt pulled back, a horrible thought dawning on him. "Jaskier...," he growled. "Please tell me you're not writing a romance novel about us."

"Well," the poet drawled and Geralt groaned. So that was a yes. "I am not writing about Geralt of Rivia, the witcher, and Jaskier the bard."

"But?"

"But it might be that the two protagonists are a chivalrous monsterslayer and his loyal painter companion."

"Jaskier...," he pleaded even though he knew it was useless.

"What? In my defence, it was you who dragged in the knightly ballads!"

"Hm." That was a shit defence and they both knew it. Unwilling to start an argument, though, he just pulled Jaskier closer against his chest and leaned his forehead against his shoulder. "Tell me more."

And tell him more he did. Thank the gods it was so easy to get Jaskier rambling. He told him about the two protagonists, Eric and Dandelion, who had met shortly after the artist had abandoned the court; he had been living at, to find real inspiration out in the world. He was, apparently, entirely insufferable and a notorious womanizer-

"What?" Geralt interrupted him with a quiet chuckle. "Next you tell me he set out into the world to draw nude portraits of all his lovers."

"Oh no!" He felt Jaskier tense up before even the lament had left his mouth. "Oh, fuck, Geralt, that's brilliant, I-" His mouth snapped shut. His eyes flitted around nervously as he was obviously contemplating what the worse fate was: abandoning his lover or risking the loss of an idea.

Geralt quickly made the decision for him as he opened his arms. "Go on, bard," he said with a soft smile. "Write it down before it's gone again." He had lived with Jaskier long enough to become well acquainted with all of his sorrows.

The smile he got in return was almost worth it. "You're the best, I love you, I'm so sorry," he blabbered, scrambling to his feet. He pecked him on the mouth with a quick: "Be right back."

'No, you won't,' Geralt thought adoringly as he watched him bolt to his desk. "Just bring something to write with when you do!" he called after him and leaned back against the couch. He couldn't quite bring himself to wipe the lopsided grin off his face.

It was going to be a long winter. But he wouldn't have it any other way.

#my writing #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #julian alfred pankratz #geraskier fanfiction #the witcher fanfiction #geraltxjaskier #geralt/jaskier #winter prompt challenge

[apprenticenerd]

"Anyone can send me an ask with one of the titles and I’ll post a snippet or talk about that WIP!" The Acropolis, Tacet, Checklist, A Tiny Galaxy, Hearsay, Going Back, Ella Disenchanted, Making Peace, The Slashed Circle, Wake Up, Tenno, Midnight, Heliotropism, Arrhythmia, the one about Among Us, the one about Library of Ruina, the one that’s a D&D world concept. Yes, all of them. I know you wanna talk about all of them. So go, go forth and do it!

Hoooo boy, this is gonna be a long post. Lots and lots of writing snippets under the cut to avoid dash stretch!

The Acropolis - original - length uncertain - 1.4k and counting

im not ready for this im not i thought it would be yrs i thought id at least get an english degree first

omg sal whats goin on

fuckin hell whyd it have to be now i have a chem lab tomorrow

sally-tate macpherson. u never swear. ever. wtf is goin on.

ok. jess. i need u to listen really really carefully. understand?

answer the goddamn question ur scarin me

shut up and listen and this will go a lot better

fine but u need to tell me wtf is happnenig

ok. im going to tell you a bunch of stuff. not giving u advice, thats not allowed, but im gonna tell u stuff it seems like itd be impossible for me to know.

?????????????

i said shut up this is really important dont question how i know it. just go with it and figure out what to do. and dont die. bc no matter how crazy stuff seems, if u die, ur dead. here and everywhere. ok?

This is an original story coming straight from a @/writing-prompt-s prompt about a crack in a kid’s hardwood floor that they fantasized was a portal actually being one. I originally intended to write the entire thing like this, as a conversation over text, but that may not be feasible given a certain world-building detail at the other end of the portal (and the limits of my creativity lmao).

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Tacet - The Blackout Club - one-shot - 3.2k and counting

She closed her eyes again, and there it was. Hallucination? Some new science trick with electromagnetic radiation off the visible spectrum? Evidence that she was actually going insane? Whatever it was, it burned behind her eyelids in bright, incontrovertible red - and was completely invisible when she opened her eyes again. There was just the usual mess of club posters and one big one about someone’s exceedingly dumb-looking lost cat.

Eyes open, there was only Sargent Snuggles. Eyes closed, there was the normal darkness and then three lines of text where the poster had been, wavering like scarlet fire:

JOIN TBC JOIN TBC JOIN TBC

TBC? What the fuck was that? She’d never heard of any group with that acronym before. Hardly aware of the flurry of weird looks from half the other people in the hallway, she crossed the hall to examine the lost cat poster more closely. It felt like perfectly normal paper when she touched it, and there wasn’t even a hint of red with her eyes open, unless you counted the cat’s tacky pink sweater. How the hell was this even possible?

“You’re finally cracking, Bri,” she groaned under her breath, then headed for her locker. She did have to get home. Add another big fat entry to the weird shit list.

A backstory one-shot for my Blackout Club OC Briar, telling the story of how she got into the club in the first place. I’ve been stuck in the same spot for a while now, after Briar’s friend Dani explains the club to her, and I’ve come to the conclusion that the scene’s over as is. Of course, writing the next one is the tough part.

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Checklist - The Blackout Club - one-shot - 1.7k and counting

8. You still have a headache. Shouldn’t you go back to sleep and try to do this in the morning?

9. (wake up)

10. Nah, you’ve always been a night owl, and school starts criminally early, too early to get much done beforehand. It’s quiet, except for Dad snoring. Your parents are asleep already. You can stay up until this is done, and they’ll be none the wiser.

11. Your head hurts worse. It’s getting harder to think. At only 9 pm? 9:30? Whatever. You should sleep.

12. (wake UP)

13. What are you thinking? You have to read at least a little of this chapter, or there’s no way you’ll be able to bullshit your way through class tomorrow. Besides, all of a sudden, the silence feels...strange. Heavier? You can’t describe it.

14. You need to sleep. You need a drink of water or something. You need to finish this damn homework. You need to sleep. You need to sleep.

15. Stare at The Great Gatsby. It doesn’t make sense. Nothing makes sense.

16. Realize what’s up with the silence. Dad’s not snoring anymore. You aren’t feeling like yourself. You need to sleep.

17. Something’s weird.

18. (WAKE UP) 

19. ...No. Something’s wrong.

Another Blackout Club story and another Interface Screw, as it were, this time in the form of a (very long) checklist. None of the characters have names (yet). It describes another way a kid could find themself running around at night with the Blackout Club, this time by fighting off the Song just enough to run into a club member who could wake them up the rest of the way. As with Tacet, I still need to write the suspenseful part.

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A Tiny Galaxy - Warframe - 4 chapters planned, 1 complete, 1 in progress - 7.8k and counting

Try it if you don’t believe me, the kid in the vent had said.

It was impossible. It was physically impossible. All of this was impossible. Had the Void...? Could the Void...?

The ship was at a standstill. Her mother had tried to kill her, and something had happened. She’d made something happen. There had been no holoprojector in that kid’s hand. Nothing was impossible anymore.

Jhia took a deep breath. How the heck was she supposed to do this? Was she supposed to feel something, some internal guide? Blue Hair hadn’t said. Feeling incredibly stupid, she did a quick mental checkup on herself. Nothing felt wrong, or different - but now that she thought about it…

Afterward, she would try many times to explain it, and fail every time. The best she could come up with was that once she found the Void, calling on it was as easy and as natural as breathing. She opened her hands in front of her, concentrated on that force like an extension of herself, reopened her eyes, and there it was: a riotous little ball of energy, wisps and motes of light and not-quite-light like a tiny galaxy, the Tau system in the palm of her hand, raging.

More OC backstory time! This one’s for my Tenno, a nerdy fourteen-year-old (at the time of this story, anyway) by the name of Jhia, going through the hell that is the Zariman Ten-Zero and what happened on it. This is possibly the first part of the story I actually wrote: the roll-credits moment when Jhia realizes the Void’s changed her more already than she thought.

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Hearsay - Lobotomy Corporation/Library of Ruina - one-shot - 1k and counting

"Oh? Did they investigate further?"

"They tried. Found a few fingerprints, but they didn't match anyone in the database."

"What's the update, then?"

"Reports from elsewhere in the district of someone not in uniform carrying a Zwei sword. They're slippery, good at avoiding us, which would suggest Syndicate operative to me and HQ. Except that in every one of the descriptions we managed to get, our sword thief is a child."

"What? How?!"

"You tell me, Iona. You're the one who went to the crime scene."

"Right... Jeez, if it's a kid, I guess that'd explain why Petrov thought they weren't a threat..."

"My thoughts exactly. HQ has a fair amount of hearsay to go on, but nobody can quite agree on how old the child is, or whether or not she's with a Syndicate. Most agree that she appears to be a girl, tall for a child, auburn hair, clothes and demeanor typical of a Backstreets native."

"We got a name?"

"They've heard Yeri, Kali, Redbird, Suma, Aelfin... No one knows which is her real one, or if it's even any of them at all."

"Damn. ...Say, are you going to drink that entire pot of coffee?"

"Help yourself."

This is one of those stories that turned into an accidental AU when more of canon came out. The idea behind it is that it’s Kali’s backstory told entirely in conversations in which she did not participate, showcasing the fact that a Fixer’s fame is their livelihood and Kali was about as famous as they come, before the whole L Corp thing happened. Of course, the vast majority of the headcanons here got invalidated with a certain Ruina update, so my motivation’s kinda down on this one.

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Going Back has already been talked about here!

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Ella Disenchanted - The Blackout Club - one-shot (maybe two-shot??) - 1.4k and counting

She woke. Her stomach went through a series of panicked flip-flops as she thought something strange had done it, Dad or a little-kid-nightmares shadow beast had made noise, but no - why had she fallen asleep in the first place? Her butt and shoulder were sore where they’d been leaning on the bottom and side of the windowsill, presumably all night, since the sun was full up over the trees on Old Growth Hill. 

All night. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t fall asleep, but she did anyway. God dammit.

As she unfolded herself from her cramped ball, though, she froze. Under the comforter she’d pulled around her shoulders for warmth, she was wearing her gray jacket, a T-shirt, jeans, sneakers getting dried mud all over the carpet. 

Last she remembered, she’d been in her pajamas.

In which a Blackout Club kid’s little sister wonders where he’s gone when he runs away to the boxcar, and tries to get to the bottom of the mystery herself. Usually she’d be too young for the club to recruit, but her investigations and an incident involving SAO are more than enough extenuating circumstance. Unlike most of my other WIPs, there’s a whole outline at the end of my doc for this one.

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Making Peace - Warframe - multi-chapter - 1.5k and counting

“I…” Iksoh finally said. “Sorna, I hope you realize. I’m not into this. I never - I’m not doing this. Whatever you’re doing, I can’t.”

“I know,” Sorna said softly. The decision tore at her heart again and she almost backed out of the vent, but no. She had to go. She wouldn’t see another innocent crumple in her rifle sights. “I hope you realize. I’m not coming back.”

Behind her, Iksoh let out a long, shaky breath. “It’s taking all I’ve got not to report you right now. Sorna… the Queens’ll have my head for this. Please, please, let it be worth it. Go. Don’t let them take yours.”

“I won’t,” Sorna promised, and meant it.

Later, after her last fight for her freedom was done, on the Steel Meridian ship headed for Kronia Relay, Sorna looked out at the planet retreating behind her and thought of Iksoh. She’d just learned a new word from a Meridian soldier: vaykor tal, the defector’s spirit. Iksoh had let her go, at risk of their own life. They’d had a bit of the vaykor tal themself, even if they hadn’t known it, even if they’d thought it was just some weakness that was bound to get them killed.

“Ranre treri, duf krun,” she whispered into space, a Grineer well-wishing passed down from sergeant to tube-fresh lancer since time immemorial. May your hands be steady, and may life be kind.

This is an AU born of me and some friends wondering why in the heck Perrin and the Meridian hate each other so much in game. It’s about a group of Kavor - Grineer defectors distinguished from other Meridian members by their pacifism - who get to a Relay and start wondering the same thing. Besides Sorna (and, later in the story, Iksoh as well), there would have been Chakh, Beket, and Sydon, plus at least four of the syndicate leaders and a bunch of side-character OCs, all caught up somehow in what turns out to be a surprisingly far-reaching web of intrigue.

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The Slashed Circle - Warframe - one-shot, probably - 429 and counting

In addition to their written and spoken language, the Grineer have a full language of hand signs. It has its quirks, as all languages do - be careful of confusing it with the Corpus sign language, in which the sign for “to pay” roughly approximates the Grineer sign for...a certain portion of the male anatomy. Among these is the common Grineer sentiment against those who defect from their ranks, baked into the sign just as much as their spoken words. 

The sign of the slashed circle, the sedashkur - a finger drawn in a circle on the chest, followed by a diagonal line - is the highest of taboos to any loyal Grineer. It shows support for such scum as the Kavor and Steel Meridian, enough so that it forms the basis for the Meridian’s battle standard. To sign the sedashkur is to betray your siblings, commit a grave insult to your superiors, paint a near-indelible target on your back. It is an object of hatred and fear throughout the ranks.

She fears it, yes, but she does not hate it, for all her life and into her death as well. It shouldn’t trouble her now, though. It is easy to hide a language, and she burned her journals before she was called to the fortress.

This is a fic about Jhia and her one (1) converted Kuva Lich, namely about the process of said Lich’s defeat and defection, that kinda never got off the ground. Contrary to this snippet, I think most of it would have been written in what are essentially space emails back and forth between Lich and Tenno? I definitely got as far as Jhia sending an audio recording of a bass-boosted dog fart, anyhow.

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Wake Up, Tenno - Warframe - one-shot - 950 and counting

“Wake up, Tenno.”

She wakes. She is - she is Tenno, right? She is a Tenno? Her mind is confused, so full of fog and dead ends - how long was she asleep?

The voice that woke her seems familiar. She might have loved the speaker, in her scrambled past life, the woman in the purple helmet, the one called Lotus in her HUD vision. Her surroundings are a ruin of some sort. Her body is—

...what?

She can move just fine. Her fingers and arms and legs respond with suspicious ease, given how long she must have slept to be this scattered upon waking up, and yet there’s some fundamental disconnect. This is her Warframe, her body, but it’s not her body somehow.

...wait, where did the term “Warframe” come from?

A Tenno, unnamed but intended to be Jhia on my end, wakes up on Earth at the very beginning of the in-game storyline. Since the tutorial has gotten an overhaul in recent months, I may have to modify even what little I have on this a lot.

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Midnight - Iconoclasts - poem - 280 and counting

been anything smaller than been anything

never been anything smaller than

“good morning, how’s miss grump doing today? i heard about that last mission...if you didn’t sleep well i can call you in sick, it’s alright-” “oh, shut up, grey”

there has never been anything

“oh, shut up, grey” “love you too”

smaller

“love you too”

than

me

A very fragmented, stream-of-consciousness-y poem meant to represent Agent Black’s failing sanity near the end of the game. The words of her famous one-liner (“there has never been anything smaller than me”) are interspersed, out of order until the end, with poetic descriptions of other characters and bits and pieces of a flashback involving Agent Grey.

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Heliotropism - Iconoclasts - one-shot - 1.1k and counting

Lily, though she’s superstitious, will have none of these self-important truths, none of these semblances of certainty when really all it is is wishing on Ivory and hoping for the best. She calls for Miss Andress instead. 

A stout but severe woman with ten grandchildren and a great-grandchild on the way, Miss Andress is perhaps the quintessential matriarch: nurturing, selfless, brutally honest. She is the one the people of 17 trust when they feel they can trust no one else. Lily needs the kind of reassurance only she can give, with the authority of ninety-one years and the wisdom of two sons, one daughter, and some five dogs raised under her care.

When Miss Andress visits House 4, she asks Polro and Lily to each bring an object they cherish the most. For Polro it’s his largest wrench, pitted with use but still polished to a brassy shine; Lily surprises everyone by pulling out a tiny, unloaded stun-gun, and surprises them more by not explaining it at all. Miss Andress doesn’t question it. She just turns the two tools over and over in her hands, head bowed, squinting at them as if trying to read the secrets of the universe in the scratches carved into them by time.

Finally she straightens up and sighs, pushing a strand of silver hair behind her ear. Her forehead is slick with sweat, though the night is cool outside. “I don’t know what she’ll do,” the wise woman says, heavily, as if delivering bad news. “I just know she’ll change the world.”

Can you tell I like backstory fic? This one is for Robin, with one short anecdote for each year of her life, up to age 17 and the events of the game. It’s also an excuse to world-build a bunch, lol.

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Arrhythmia - Crypt of the NecroDancer - one-shot(?) - 4k and counting

The creature didn’t say anything, just beckoned to the shadows. Before I could move, two other creatures came for me, sending the other humans - former humans? - scrambling away in panic. One landed a hard blow on the back of my head that sent me to my hands and knees, seeing sparks; the other said “Freeze!” and I could only watch as ice sprouted from the leaf litter, cementing me to the ground.

The one who’d hit me produced a dagger from the inside of its cloak. I tried to pull myself up, to do anything at all to keep myself from getting shanked, but it was no good. There must have been a secondary effect on that spell; my limbs wouldn’t respond. I felt the dagger tear cloth in the region of my back, and prepared for the pain.

It didn’t come. The creature cut a slit in the back of my tunic, then another. Neither one touched the skin at all. I can’t really describe what happened next - my brain was having trouble computing how my arms were in front of me, visible, unable to move, but it felt like the creature was pulling them through the gashes in my tunic, but that was wrong, they didn’t feel like arms at all.

“Holy fuck,” I heard someone say.

The ice holding me down melted into nothing as the spell wore off. I jumped back up, head spinning a little, ready for another fight, only to spot two flicks of scarlet in my peripheral vision. I spun around, but they moved with me.

I think I already knew what they were. I just couldn’t admit it to myself.

You’ve already seen this one, Nick, though I’m pretty sure it was well over two years ago. It’s a pile of old headcanons, some of them now outdated I’m pretty sure, about how Nocturna ended up a vampire in the first place and a little bit about how vampire society works. According to Google Docs, I’ve been stuck on this one since March 2018. Whoops.

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untitled (working title “adult citra meets an impostor bc what is self-control”) - Among Us - one-shot - 572 and counting

“I know. You’re stuck, aren’t you?” Having well and truly gotten their full attention, Citra continues, “God, I can barely imagine. Having to take a weird-ass host whose biology might even be toxic to you, I don’t know. Needing to get to a whole other galaxy, feeling like the only way to do that is by deception and death.” “How…?”

She sighs. “I told you, this isn’t my first rodeo. One of your kind saved my life when I was a kid. Since he’d killed Mom and Dad had been out of the picture long before, he stayed here and helped raise me afterward. It’s how I learned to pronounce...a few of your words, at least.”

“You missed the ‘H’ sound.”

“Isn’t that the one that’s literally impossible to do right with Terran anatomy?”

“Maybe. You think I know Terran anatomy all that well?”

Citra chuckles. “Fair point. You let us find your buddy and fix the ship, I’ll raise Xai when we get comms back and he can try and help you get home. Deal?”

I found an Among Us comic on Tumblr, absolutely ran into left field with it to make a couple of OCs, and then made AUs of those OCs because of course I did. This one is from a future scenario in which Citra (typically orange) meets someone rather familiar on a mission with the crew of the Skeld.

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untitled (working title “library of ruina but they adopt half the guests”) - Library of Ruina - length uncertain - 1k and counting

“And what happened to not caring about others because it’s a waste of time and heartache?”

Now it’s Roland’s turn to sigh. “I don’t care about him. I just don’t want the guilt of killing - look at him, he can’t be older than eighteen or nineteen!”

Raised eyebrow. “Finn will be twenty years old in fifteen days’ time. He is a legal adult. I fail to see why this should matter to either of us.”

“He’s fresh off his first Fixer license! I have years of experience! He had no idea what he was getting into when he signed that invitation and you know it!”

Angela fixes him with a glare that turns his stomach, his freshly remade body reacting to the memory of its sudden, and extremely painful, dismemberment. “I could quite literally hold your soul in my hands if I wanted,” she reminds him in an undertone of steel. “I must do the same for him, following the invitation’s guidance, or my entire plan will be lost, my coworkers’ sacrifices all for naught. Do not disappoint me or ask any more impertinent questions. You know what to do, and what will happen if you do not.” 

Look, some of the people you fight in this game deserved so much better, okay? I came up with an AU concept where if a guest willingly concedes the fight and agrees to stick around, you can get their book without killing them. Finn doesn’t die; neither do Tomerry or Shi Association; all the former employees realize exactly what’s going on with Philip after the Wedge Office fight and manage to calm him down, avoiding the whole Crying Children situation. (And then Gebura makes him collect his jaw off the floor by revealing herself as the Red Mist.)

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The one that’s a D&D world concept doesn’t have anything concrete written for it yet. (Don’t read this bit if you might want to play in my campaign at some point!) Instead of your typical Forgotten Realms planar setup, the world at large would be called the Seven Spheres, each of them different in terms of climate, geography, native species and magic, etc. The First Sphere would be the most “generic” one (to our way of thinking) and the main setting of the campaign; it would also be the smallest of the Seven, its primary continent home to a former empire of dragons that spanned most of the Sphere until its mysterious fall a thousand years ago.

Now, since the empire fell, the dragons and their children have slowly been dying out. Best estimates are that there’s only a thousand or two left in the entire First Sphere, with fewer eggs hatched every decade. The player characters enter a world with pretty typical low-level quests to start with, but every so often, especially if they engage with optional story stuff (this would be a more roleplay-focused than combat-focused campaign), they get wind of changes in the air - a failed harvest here, an unusually hot and stormy summer there, a trade war once they start hitting mid-levels.

It mimics real-world climate change in all but cause. As coastal cities struggle to contend with rising seas and, more alarmingly, wizards all over the Sphere start to notice their magic falter and wane, the PCs’ goal becomes getting to the bottom of this. And what’s at the bottom is...your typical Nerd fusion of science with fantasy settings.

The Seven Spheres are not planes of existence in the normal D&D sense, but seven planets in the same solar system, each with its own ancient god far more powerful than any god in any mortal pantheon; the First Sphere is so named because it’s closest to the sun. These planetary gods are incredibly large and incredibly alien, thinking in geologic time and concepts far too broad and slow for most sapient beings to comprehend. A thousand years ago, the fall of the dragon empire was caused by an ill-advised ritual meddling with the god of the First Sphere’s natural process of rebirth, causing said god to die without a replacement.

It’s taken this long for the First Sphere to feel the effects because, again, geologic time - a thousand years is a blink of an eye in this kind of time scale. But now the ancient earth-magic that had kept the Sphere’s climate temperate and its magicians in business is failing. The dragons, as beings of magic intrinsically, have been failing all along. And now it’s up to the PCs, up at level 17-20 if not higher by that point, to figure out how to fix the situation and find a new planetary god for the First Sphere before the whole Sphere burns to death.

#bulletnick #wow this got long #you're right i did want to talk about all of them though

[mistymark]

the one with the soulmates.

johnny suh x reader // 1.5k words // soulmate!au // strangers to lovers!au

summary; in which soulmates can hear snippets of each other’s thoughts and what the fuck is going on his head

warnings; swearing

“I wonder how many teeth I have.”

You groaned, rolling over in bed to check the clock on your nightstand. 5:32am. The voice that seemed to echo in your room didn’t surprise you; you’d gotten used to hearing your soulmate’s voice as if he was speaking out loud, but what really had you shocked was the fact that your soulmate was awake this early.

And counting teeth?

“29? What? Surely, it has to be an even number, right? Let me ask Doyoung.”

You leant back into your pillow, staring at the ceiling to try and clear your mind of all your thoughts, so that you’d be able to hear your soulmate’s more clearly. It was something you did rarely, not wanting to invade into someone else’s mind too often, even if they were your soulmate.

The soulmate bond that you had was rare; most people had more vague soulmate clues, or random ones that made it very difficult to find their soulmate. You and your soulmate, however, had been given a very specific bond, yet neither of you had really learnt to master it. Despite how much you practiced as kids and teens, you were unable to directly control what the other heard nor what you could hear yourself.

However, you had discovered that if you attempted to clear your mind of your own thoughts, you could hear him more often. You had, unfortunately, discovered this at your first and last meditation and yoga class. Whilst everyone had been able to sit in silence and focus on their mind and body or whatever – you can’t really remember what the instructor had been saying – you were trying to hold in your laughter. Your soulmate had been attempting to cook, apparently, and someone had set something on fire…

Either way, you couldn’t go back. Not after being kicked out for not being able to sit still and stay quiet.

“You should go to the dentist,” the voice mocked someone else. Probably Doyoung, you thought. You had to admit, after your soulmate had gone through puberty, you found his voice extremely attractive.

“Wait, shit, I think I really do need to go to the dentist.” You couldn’t help but giggle at times like this; when your soulmate was so scatter-brained or just… humorous.

You threw the duvet from your body and walked into the bathroom, letting your mind wander to your own thoughts; your plans for the day, what time your shift started, did you have enough time to get a coffee before class?

Your own thoughts formed a barrier between the two of you and it wasn’t until later that day that you heard your soulmate again: “Ow!”

The sudden shout of pain almost made you fall out of your chair. Sitting in the silent library, studying for a final you had later that month, it felt like he had just yelled in your ear.

“OW! Ow, ow, ow, stop, stop stop!” You immediately felt concerned for your soulmate, worried that something was wrong, or that he had injured himself somehow. But your concern slipped away when his next thought came through: “This sucks. I hate the dentist.”

You felt yourself raise an eyebrow at him, even though he couldn’t see you. What an idiot.

Your boots squelched in the rain as you huddled under your umbrella, running as fast as you could to the small bookstore just off of campus. Your shift started in less than five minutes, and you had to clock in before the hour started.

“I knew I should’ve brought my umbrella,” the voice chastised. “Where’s Jaehyun; I’m going to go blame Jaehyun.”

Somehow your soulmate’s voice calmed you a little bit in your mad rush to reach the Huddler & Hound bookstore, and you arrived two minutes early. Frantically clocking into the system in the staff room out back, you shook off the water from your umbrella and stuffed your bag into a locker, removing your coat to reveal your green work polo, with a small dog embroidered in the corner.

You made your way to the front counter, ready to begin serving customers when his voice interrupted you again, seemingly much louder than before, “What the fuck is this shit? I mean, a book for babies? Babies don’t read.”

You felt yourself laugh, and you attempted to hide it with a cough when your customer looked up at you in confusion. Sometimes it was easy to forget only you could hear his voice.

The rain stopped outside briefly, and you looked wistfully out the window. God, I would kill for a coffee right now.

“Finally, we can leave.” There was a pause. “Shit, how did I lose Jaehyun again?”

“Is this all for today?” You asked the next customer politely, taking her stack of books and scanning them. “Cash or card?”

“Jaehyun!” You winced a little from how loud your soulmate’s thoughts could be, and attempted to ignore them.

The lady in front of you took the bag from your hand, a sympathetic smile on her face, “Gosh, you’d think he’d know to keep quiet in a book store.”

You felt your eyes widen, “Y-you could hear him, too?” He’s here?

She stopped as she turned to walk away, a confused and slightly terrified look on her face, “The man shouting ‘Jae, hun?’ Yeah, I heard it. Pretty sure the entire block did.”

You didn’t even tell her goodbye, you were already rounding the counter to look for the perpetrator. The person belonging to the voice in your head. Shit, this place is a lot bigger when you’re looking for someone.

You remembered he had been criticizing the baby books, so you decided to check the children’s section first. When you rounded the corner, you saw two boys crouched in the kids’ chairs, reading out loud to each other and dramatically pointing at pictures on the pages. They both froze when you appeared.

They both looked about your age, and were both really attractive, so you were hoping one of them was the owner of the voice.

A faint “damn” could be heard in the back of your mind, but you were too focused on your own thoughts to realise.

“Um, could you guys keep it down back here? I’m really sorry, but we’ve had a few complaints,” you squeezed your hands together, looking at both of them for any signs of recognition. Nothing.

“Oh, right. Sorry,” one of them flashed a smile at you apologetically, and you nodded, turning to walk back to the cash register. His voice was too smooth to be your soulmate’s, too soft. Way to get my hopes up.

“That’s her.” You froze. “Couldn’t forget that voice.” You felt yourself smile a little.

You spun around on your heel and stuck your hand out, “I’m Y/n. What’re your names?”

The taller one of the two slotted his hand into yours, “Johnny.”

You stared at Johnny as you shook the other’s, “Jaehyun.”

“It’s really nice to meet you, Johnny,” you breathed. He smiled, his entire face lighting up. My god, you could really get used to that smile. He was gorgeous when he was smiling.

He laughed, “Gorgeous, huh?”

You felt your face go red as blood rushed to your cheeks. You forgot about the bond for a second.

He decided to save you from embarrassment, “I think you’re gorgeous, too.”

You felt a smile tugging at your lips and you beamed at him. God, he was so handsome. You stared at him in wonder and excitement, taking him all in. No wonder he was your soulmate, you were already falling for him. He stared back at you, a smirk on his lips.

“Am I missing something?” Jaehyun glanced between you two curiously, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Johnny laughed, “Oh, right. Jaehyun-” He gestured towards you, “-this is my soulmate, Y/n.”

Jaehyun’s eyebrow quirked up at the mention of Johnny’s soulmate, having known how much it bothered him that he knew his soulmate, and all they had to do was actually meet. He clapped Johnny on the shoulder, “Right, well, we have to get to practice. So… say goodbye, Romeo.”

This seemed to spur Johnny into action, and he quickly dug his phone out of his pocket, holding it out to you, “Can I have your number, gorgeous?”

Your face felt hot. What was this boy doing to you? You nodded shyly, typing in your number under the contact ‘Y/n (gorgeous :D)’.

“A classic emoticon,” Johnny wolf-whistled in appreciation. “You are definitely my soulmate.” He winked at you as he left the store, leaving you standing in the kid’s section of the bookstore, stunned.

You had met your soulmate. Now, all you had to do was ask him on a date.

#nct #nct 127 #nct 2018 #nct 127 scenarios #nct scenarios #nct 127 imagines #nct 127 fluff #soulmate au #johnny soulmate au #johnny seo #johnny seo x reader #johnny x reader #johnny suh #johnny suh x reader #nct johnny #nct 127 johnny #nct fluff #nct smut #nct angst #nct masterlist #kpop #kpop masterlist #kpop scenario #kpop imagine #kpop fluff

[cosmicdvst]

❝ L eave me at the road side and hang me up and out to dry ❞

He’s not sure where he is anymore; he’d driven relentlessly. Driven for hours with a frenzied feeling pumping at his gas, chasing him down concrete roads that had long since dissolved at the mouth of a gaping desert—red, dusty and hollow red.

It’d been three months since he’d received the news; Kerberos mission lost, pilot error, dead. It’d been three months since he’d assaulted the Galaxy Garrison’s central office in response, demanding answers—he couldn’t accept it, wouldn’t accept it. He’d known Shiro, had been witness to his ability and promise, had therein known that the possibility of a pilot error was every piece absurd… and even if he’d dared to entertain the thought, why the hell weren’t they out looking for him? When they’d commissioned him to begin with?

It’d been three months since the appointed head of the institution had ordered him out, quite literally dragging him from the premises in a kicking and cursing mess, volatile like fizzling acids bubbling from their beacons in consequence to a mounting heat. It’d been three months since they’d reminded him that he was absolutely nothing special. A prodigy sure, but in time replaceable. Replaceable with something tuned to taking orders, someone conditioned to respect and maintaining model behavior, someone overall better, appealing, whole, and pristine. Stark opposites too what he was, what the world had dictated him as; lacking, disinteresting, broken, and ruined. An orphan with little promise when coupled with his temperance and bite. An orphan far too wise to the truths of existence to fall prey to the false enchantments offered by life’s fleeting moments and bribes.

Truths of existence. That’s what he felt that he was half the time—truths that no one wanted to acknowledge.

The truth that he was now was found sprawled on his back against a sandy tomb in the midst of nowhere, gazing up bitterly at a nighttime sky he’d once loved so dearly. A sky that had personified his dreams in its cosmic folds, an infinite realm adorned with bursting stars that breathed in vivid colors and exhaled opportunity just as infinite as space itself. A sky that now glowed back treacherously and empty, that last feeling striking past the boundary separating earth and a seeming heaven. An emptiness that rushed forward with the weight and shape of an asteroid as it seared the atmosphere and crashed against his chest. It ravaged skin and split it open, it’d broken ribs, splintered bones, and exploded in a suffocating sensation at his core. It nestled inside, erupting in waves of a corrosive heat that manifested along the plains of his aching body; shaking limbs, conjuring fists, and gritting teeth before slowly subsiding to a numbing silence, subduing his natural fires altogether.

He was so empty now. He’d done his run with anger and he’d courted it in a way that only he’d known how for years—it’s what he was, after all. What he best understood: molten anger. A language spoken in striking fists, cutting looks, set jaws, mapped bruises, and bloody ends. It’d helped him survive, saw him through so much, and above all, it cushioned the more painful blows of feelings he’d attempted to gut from his chest with the sharp edges of knives and blunt carvings of fingertips. It was his defense against a world that sought to wear him down, his only motive and fuel… and now, it was gone.

Gone like everyone else.

The Kerberos mission falls heavier, feels larger, because it’s not just Shiro’s he’s lost—it’s everyone. His mother, his father, his family, and his friends back at the group home. Everyone… gone.

His breath shudders and his fingers dig into the ground beneath his leathered palms. Nails bleed under the pressure of biting sand and bits of dry dirt. The surrounding night envelopes him in a cold that makes him shiver with its clawing breeze, turns paling skin to deathly ice. He doesn’t care. Why the hell should he care?

You’re nothing special.  

You’re lucky to even have a last name.

Cursed words swim through his mind as he closes his eyes, attempting to steady his breathing in the wake of this mess—he can feel hideous and liquid things boil at his throat and sear at the corners of his eyes: tears. He wants to incinerate them because he doesn’t want them. He doesn’t want to submit to them because they’re so useless, they’ve never once done a thing for him, they never will—tears, tears, just go away. Nevertheless, despite his naive hoping and pushing, they resonate inevitable. How long could he hold back the storm that had had years to brew and gather momentum? A storm that now wiped and raged with this last impossible weight of a loss, feeding into clouds that hung ashy and thick? A storm that demanded its fall and presence, a storm that clutched at the edges of this emptiness and forced itself up to reach through into reality, to stain and to bleed a stubbornly violet gaze.

All too suddenly it’s apparent that he’s never once been a simple fire. He’s not some forest rage lashing at whatever came into his way, destroying without cause and simply sparking in mindless flickers. He’s volcanic. There’s magma like blood running through the roads of his veins, burrowed in deep like the heat at the heart of this planet, intrinsic and natural to his physiology. Magma that simmers up at the faults, the fallouts, and triggers. Magma that gathers and builds and morphs into something grand and threatening, like now. Magma that conceives that storm and it’s obvious that those clouds don’t weigh in rain, it’s all fire. It’s liquid fire. It’s lava that finally bursts through to the surface at the intolerable pressure, and it’s done. It snaps and roars and explodes and he erupts.

The tears stream down his cheeks as he chokes on a gasp. His hearts pounding to the strain. He’s powerless… and so he cries.

He cries. He cries. He cries.

He cries because he’s empty, he’s alone, he’s nothing. He’s an orphaned boy stranded in the middle of a desert at eighteen, and oh god, he’s already eighteen but he’s also only eighteen and no one cares. He’s got no discernable future and no discernable past. He’s as lifeless as this desert, he’s as vacant, he’s as hollow, and he’s as red.

The sky watches in a cold apathy as his breath tangles, as the tears burn, as they scar at his cheeks and cut down the edge of his jaw. Divinity ignores as he lifts a single and dirtied palm up and out to its nebulous depths, pleading now. He’s pleading for resolution, for absolution, for hope. He’s begging the stars but they refuse to bleed.

They refuse him like everything else.

His lungs burn as his sobs tear faster, louder past the tunnel of his throat. His eyes sting and blur with the bitter reality that further serves to steal his breath, that mounts on shaking shoulders and smothers him into the dirt, and for the first time since he was seven he lets it. He lets it because this was all by his design to begin with, he’d landed himself here, he’d given his demons this opening by loving something that could die. A fatal lesson that he’d thought he’d learned by now… let this moment teach and seal, then, let it be the last.

He turns onto all fours, grime and dirt clinging onto his jacket and clumping into wild and dark hair. He’s gritting his teeth against the pains running rampart through his chest, shredding up to his eyes and ringing them for all their worth, spilling onto dusty earth and scaring it with the tangibility of his hurt. A hand pressed against the flat of the ground curls into a tight fist as he struggles through desperate breaths, and just because he’s in the middle of this spiel, just because he’s already cracked and scattered pieces on this floor, strewing his gore along desert dust, he leans forward as if to kiss salted earth. He leans forward and opens his mouth around a scream.  

It’s raw and it’s loud and it resounds in a withheld agony. It’s piercing, it’s like razors spilling from his throat, and he can taste the acrid dirt on wet lips, but that doesn’t stop him—he’s screaming his anthem to the sky, to the ground, to this empty space that’s his throne and kingdom.

And as his damning voice fills the desert, serenades the moon and stars, there’s an accompanying roar.  A roar like a lions, synergizing his own. There’s a sudden pulse to the ground that forces him to still in a gasp, eyes widening in their puffy and red rimmed mess. The blade secured to his back burns, heat sinking past the sheath and his clothes, thrumming with the same beat of life that so suddenly fills the once listless land.

He’s pushing himself up now in quick motions, standing on shaking limbs and staggering as he looks around with heavy breaths—what is that?

And as nature dictates, lava that flows out from an eruption eventually cools, turns to glinting and sharp obsidian.

#( wo w ok so this is a snippet of how i personally had my keith deal with the kerberos mission.... ) #( snippet i say as this shit is a little over 1.5k ) #( this is honestly more of me going into his overall issues a bit.... and being totally extra af lmao ) #( ★ :: ► drabbles; ❝a traveler of all time & space.❞ ◄ :: ★ )

[johannas-motivational-insults]

1.5k Giveaway: Satisfaction ch. 2 clip

Okay, here’s the promised snippet of Satisfaction chapter 2 for you all, my way of saying thanks for all the support and getting this blog to 1.5k.

If you are new here and have no idea what all this is about, you can read chapter 1 here. It is very NSFW, be warned. This clip, however, is not.

CONTENT WARNING for references to self-harm and child abuse.

Placing her mug on the table, Adora fixes her with a resolute stare. “We need to talk about it.”

Catra sinks back in her chair with an obstinate sigh. “Do we really?”

“Open and honest communication is the cornerstone of any healthy relationship,” recites Adora, a maxim they’ve heard many times over in therapy.

Catra’s ears flick, perking up slightly as she leans in with a lewd grin. “Hmm, therapist looks good on you.” Her tongue flits out over her lips. “How about you put on a nice blouse and some glasses? I’ll call you Annika.”

Though her lips twitch into a smile, Adora won’t let the joke distract her. Holding her girlfriend’s gaze, she speaks quietly but firmly. “Catra.”

“Ugh, fiiiiine.” Scowling, Catra flops back again. She squints at some point down the hall, nibbling her lip and fiddling with her mug. “I know it’s important,” she admits. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

Dipping her head into Catra’s line of sight, Adora says, “Look, I’m really sorry.”

Eyes falling shut with a sigh, Catra tells her, “You don’t need to apologize.”

“No, I do,” insists Adora. When Catra meets her gaze, she continues, “I should’ve known better, should’ve known bringing that up would upset you.” Grimacing slightly, she adds, “I know you had it way worse than I did. In that way, anyway.”

Catra glares down at the table. “It’s not your fault. I’m just pissed that I reacted that way. We should be able to have a reasonable conversation about our sex life, you know? Without her getting in the way.” She growls the pronoun with disdain, plops her half-full mug down rather aggressively. The hot liquid sloshes and splatters on the table and Catra curses under her breath.

Adora’s eyelids flutter. “Wait, you’re embarrassed?”

“Well, yeah,” admits Catra, scratching behind her ear. “And I’m pissed that I haven’t seen her in years and all that shit is still fucking me up so bad.”

“That’s how trauma works,” says Adora.

Catra’s eyes snap up. “You did not just T word me.”

Arms crossing over her chest, Adora purses her lips. “Okay, you’re doing that flippant defensive thing and it’s not helping. Do you want to leave this unresolved? Do you really?”

Catra scowls and looks away, crossing her arms. Her ear twitches. “No.”

“Then drop this immature bullshit,” Adora scolds her.

This time when Catra meets Adora’s eyes, hers are wide and vulnerable. She looks on the verge of tears, shining eyes and trembling lips. “Adora…”

“Hey,” Adora says softly, leaning in to lay a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I know it’s hard for you.”

The tears start to leak out and Catra buries her face in her palms, elbows braced on the table. “Shit,” she mutters.

Drawn by some force she can’t control, Adora gets up and kneels beside her, wrapping an arm around her waist.

Catra shrinks into herself at the contact. “It’s fine,” she insists. “I’m okay.”

Gentle fingers stroke her side as Adora murmurs, “It’s okay to not be okay.”

That’s not what Catra wants to hear right now. She doesn’t want to hurt like this. Doesn’t want there to be a reason for it. Her throat aches but she manages to hold in all but one choked sob. That tension builds and spreads until her whole body is shaking. Desperate for an outlet, she slams her fists down on the table.

“I hate this,” she growls through gritted teeth. “I hate her.”

Tears now stream unimpeded down Catra’s cheeks, splashing between her hands. Her fists clench tighter, claws digging into her palms. The destructive act and the pain it causes releases some of the tension in her body, but unfortunately not the sorrow burning her eyes and strangling her throat. She’d have to dig deeper for that, draw blood, but she doesn’t do that anymore. Not for years, a fact both she and Adora are proud of. She has better ways to cope now, or at least she’s supposed to. Why is talking so hard? Why does it still make her feel so weak?

She’s pulled from her thoughts by the scrape of Adora’s chair against the floor as it’s pulled around the corner of the table. Adora settles on the seat, close to Catra but not touching her. It took her a long time to learn that Catra sometimes can’t stand being touched when she’s upset, especially about stuff like this. It goes against her smothering nature, but she does it. Catra appreciates it more than she knows.

“I’m sorry she did those things to you,” says Adora, and Catra’s ears prick up. “It wasn’t right, and it wasn’t fair,” she states, her tone assured but gentle. “You didn’t deserve it.”

The swelling in Catra’s throat grows at each of the affirmations and, unable to speak without crying, she settles for a nod of thanks. More tears escape her eyes and she drops her head with a shuddering sigh.

Noticing Catra’s claws digging into her palms, Adora decides to intervene. Loosely grasping both her wrists, she pulls her hands closer and begins to slowly massage them open. “You don’t need to do that,” she tells her. “Talk to me.”

A muted sob and a sniffle later, Catra shakes her head and buries her face in Adora’s chest. Adora sighs in relief, wrapping her arms around her girlfriend’s shoulders. Catra’s tears wet her sweater, but she doesn’t mind. Far from it. She hates seeing Catra adrift and feeling so useless, unable to help. Holding back from initiating contact goes against every fiber of her being. But now, taking Catra’s weight and letting her muffle her quiet sobs in her chest, Adora feels she has a place, a purpose.

In mere moments Catra’s breathing evens out, allowing Adora a sigh of relief. She nuzzles Catra’s hair, leaving a couple of pecks on her crown. On impulse she drags her lips to the side and kisses the back of Catra’s left ear. It flicks against her nose and she giggles, then quickly says, “I’m sorry, it tickled.” Suddenly she snorts and breaks into another fit of giggles. “Sorry!”

“You are such a dork,” groans Catra, lifting her head and pressing a kiss to Adora’s lips. The gesture surprises Adora and her tiny gasp eggs Catra on, a quiet rumble echoing out of her throat as she nips Adora’s lower lip and gives it a little tug. Adora rests one hand on her face and pushes back, chasing Catra’s lips and working her tongue between them. Catra lets out a pleased hum and allows her in, caressing her tongue a few times before pulling back and pecking her lips with finality. Her mischievous yet sweet smile is a sight for sore eyes.

Still cradling Catra’s cheek, Adora scans her face with concern. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just… had a moment.” Catra wipes her eyes, wearing a reassuring smile that looks to be genuine. “I feel better now.”

“I’m sorry,” murmurs Adora.

“It’s okay.”

#spop #fanfic #catradora #adora #catra #satisfaction #writing #child abuse #self-harm #milestones #giveaways

[mirror-alchemist]

Episode 5 Complete~! University Edition

I was fully coming into the episode expecting not to like it because I absolutely loathe anything to do with Clemence. But it turned out pretty well

I’m terrible at remembering to count my AP but I wanna say it took me about high 1.5k-very low 1.6k ap

Also don’t let that illustration fool you. Best believe I got the Nathaniel one too. It just doesn’t fit with the vibe of these posts.

*blahblahblahEpisodesSpoilersUndercutblahblahblah*

I like how it gives little snippets of setting up future stuff. My heart is bleeding like hell for Nathaniel though. It still seems like he’s still hurting from his abuse. I don’t ever expect him to fully get over it because it’s rough. But he’s like really stressed and has probably years of pent up anger towards it and it’s just reached the point he releases it in not the safest of ways. 

As much as it’ll probably fuck up my heart I want a spin off of the previous year when Nathaniel went really out there like Kim had said.

SPEAKING of that, HOLY SHIT. Legit I got mad that people turned their back on Nathaniel. He’s not totally innocent either but they knew. So when I got to that part where he kinda admitted that Candy leaving was a low point for him and then lashed out at her that shit made me feel guilty. This boy needs a hug and a good ass cry. I hold a lot of respect for Kim for being there for him when she could.

Headcanon but Ami would be legit ready to bitch people out about this. She left, yeah but if she was so sure of her future she wouldn’t have. The panic attacks during finals of HSL was a wake up call for her.

Okay angst aside, Priya is me. My heart fluttered when I learned she writes. I write as a hobby so I love when I see that portrayed in media. I hope they explore it further with her like a pseudo hint hint to NaNoWriMo.

Castiel is a bit of a sweetheart in this. I mean he’s still kinda sarcastic but he’s a lot more mature. Except for when kids are shits and he wants to antagonize Nathaniel. But I commend him for taking the fight away from the cafe. He’s friendly but not too much since everyone is gone and what not. Castiel has a special place in my heart too, because we’re both August babies and Leos (My birthday is 9 days before his so take that what you will). I get some of his sarcasm. But there’s a sweet person under that and we got to see a little of it. And I’m in awe that he does online courses on top of his music career. I stan a person who got their priorities.

It feels weird to have him at a positive affinity ngl. 

I still don’t get Rayan and Hyun. I’m just chalking it up because they’re still new to me so I don’t get their vibe. But I have a feelin about ep.6

#MCL #My Candy Love #My Candy Love: University Life #MCL:UL #MCLUL #episode reaction #episode 5 #spoilers

[kiruuuuu]

Of course it’s not too late, anon! Requests are still open :) @magehir​ sparked the idea for this one ❤ It’s based on this snippet I wrote as a wedding gift and I suppose it doesn’t hurt having read it before this one. I hope you like it! (Rating M, fluff/humour/mutual suffering, ~1.5k words)

.

Whenever the entirety of the Kateb clan meets, it’s nigh impossible to get anything done. Doc is lucky that they have a reservation at the expensive-looking restaurant or else the endless chattering would probably never die down between the smaller groups sprinkled over the well-maintained lawn outside. It takes about an hour for everyone to arrive, another hour to finish the greetings and good wishes and newest gossip and at least another half an hour until they’re seated. To prevent immediate chaos and petty arguments from the get go, aunt Joséphine was in charge of the seating seeing as she knows, better than anyone, who is currently at odds with whom. Fortunately, Doc managed to get seated with his immediate family and not his extended one which lowers the chances of Jäger being the only topic in his vicinity for the entire evening.

Then Doc notices the place card right next to him.

He opens his mouth, turns to his sister and freezes on the spot as he spots the person awkwardly shuffling past the row of elderly ladies all cooing over the newcomer. Once he’s over at Doc’s table, Jäger plops down on the chair next to him and nods as a greeting. “Hi”, he says.

“What the fuck”, Doc replies and gets angrily shushed by his mother.

Of course, Joséphine – who is fluttering about the room like a pleased magpie that’s taking stock of all it’s stolen – uses this moment to dive to their table with a triumphant smirk. “I see your husband finally made it”, she addresses them in English and presses her cheek against Jäger’s, undoubtedly leaving behind the top layer of her thick foundation.

“He’s not my husband.” How is it that as soon as his family is involved, Doc feels like he’s losing control over his entire life.

“Don’t be silly, Gustave, I last saw you at your wedding!”

“At a wedding, yes, but we weren’t the ones getting married!” Next to him, he can feel Sofia, his sister, shaking with silent laughter while Jäger just looks from one person to the next in horror.

“Wait, what’s going on?”, he wants to know and Doc really would like to know as well because what in the everloving hell is he doing here?

“Oh, I heard from your mother that you were planning to come alone and keep hiding your handsome husband from us, so I took the liberty of inviting him myself. It’s a pleasure to meet you again, Marius, enchantée!”

With a self-satisfied cackle, Joséphine glides off, leaving Doc to bury his face in his hands. “It said it was some kind of emergency”, Jäger whispers, alarmed.

“It is”, replies Doc’s mother with a warm smile, “my aunt is turning 100. You should’ve seen Joséphine freaking out about the whole event, it’s a wonder she didn’t faint repeatedly.”

“Should I – should I leave? I feel like I’m intruding.”

“You were at my cousin’s wedding too, you’re basically family at this point”, Doc tells him tiredly. “No one cares if you stay. Also, the food is really good. But if anyone tries to make us kiss for a photo, I’m running.”

.

They do kiss for a photo, but not before Doc has consumed enough liquid courage (and right now, he really needs it to deal with his family) to not only realise that if they don’t agree, it’s going to cause a huge commotion which he’d rather avoid, but also to actually do it. He gets told to lighten up a little as his grimace probably mirrors his exasperation and then they’re kissing, just a peck long enough to be immortalised and that’s when Doc’s muddled brain notices his mistake. Photos don’t just disappear into a void.

Good heavens, his cousin has the best blackmail material on him now without even being aware of it. At least the wine is delicious, as usual.

“I’m not going to drive home today”, Doc slurs in the direction of his mother who’s watching him with a wise smile for some unknown reason. “Can I sleep in my old room? Sofia is staying over as well, right?”

“She is, in her room. But… don’t you think it’s a bit much? The coincidences? How come you two just keep running into each other?”

He needs a moment to parse this comment before being able to reply. “Oh my God, maman, are you serious?”

“I’m just saying! It seems odd to me, Gustave. And neither of you seems very intent on clearing up this so-called ‘misunderstanding’.”

Okay, if his mum is turning against him as well now, it’s time to book it. “Right. We’re leaving. Marius can drive me.” He turns around with a little too much force and has to hold on to the back of someone’s chair which turns out to be Jäger’s who is currently downing his fourth shot of something very French and very potent. “Why are you doing this to me?”, Doc asks him with all the helplessness he can muster.

Jäger looks at him (or rather: at the space next to him, unfocused) with an almost comically guilty expression. “I thought you were driving. I drove last time, so -”

“Don’t worry, Gustave’s bed is big enough for two”, his mum comments cheerily.

.

Doc’s bed is not big enough for two. They’re standing in front of it, Jäger frowning, Doc with the stoic expression of someone who has accepted that life is suffering. He barely remembers the car ride which had a lot of Jäger almost falling asleep on his shoulder and both his mum and his sister giggling like teenage girls and he’s tired. “I’m not sleeping on the floor in my own room”, he announces.

“I can sleep on the floor”, Jäger points out helpfully and earns a dark glare.

“Not only is your injury from T or C still affecting you, but you also managed to almost saw your leg off recently, did you forget about that? You’re not sleeping on the floor.”

“Then we have to share.”

“I guess so.” They undress in silence, Doc only stopping to stare at Jäger when the German takes his shirt off as well and then hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his underwear. “What in the world do you think you’re doing?”

Jäger stills, looks down at himself and slowly removes his hands again. “I normally sleep naked”, he explains sheepishly and of course he does, why wouldn’t he?

“I’m never attending any family event ever again”, Doc informs him, “especially not when you’re invited. Get in and scoot over.” They slip under the covers and struggle for five minutes to find a comfortable position which involves a lot of naked skin brushing over naked skin and so when they finally decide on spooning, Doc ends up as the big spoon and he feels Jäger halt as soon as he for some reason starts to wiggle his butt into Doc’s crotch.

“You have – is that a -”

“Yes. I know”, Doc grits out and it’s exceedingly stupid. All of this is nothing but absurd, a mockery. “Just… I don’t know, ignore it. It’ll go away. Jesus Christ, can we just sleep?”

“You sound angry.”

“I’m furious.”

“You shouldn’t go to bed angry.”

Holy shit. This is when Doc snaps. He fixes the back of Jäger’s head with a level gaze and suggests the only thing that seems sensible to him at that moment: “You know what, you’re right. If everyone thinks we’re fucking, we might as well. Turn around and get naked.”

A pause. Doc doesn’t even care if he’s overstepping any boundaries because he’s way past caring in general. “Are you serious?”

“I’ve never been more serious. Come on.”

.

The next morning, when the two enter the kitchen to join Doc’s parents and his sister for breakfast, Doc is displaying a fierce scowl while Jäger is not only wearing his shirt backwards but also stumbles around, stunned – and not only because of his injury.

“Had a nice night?”, Doc’s mum wants to know with a bright smile to which Jäger simply nods absent-mindedly. If Doc didn’t know better, he’d assume he’s still drunk.

“I want to hear nothing”, Doc hisses and pours himself a cup of coffee that looks inviting enough for him to almost down it in one go immediately. “Alright? Nothing. Not from you, maman, and not from you either, Sofia. Nothing.”

“That’s a shame”, his mum retorts sweetly. “Last night, I wanted to hear nothing as well but my wish wasn’t granted either.”

To this, Jäger’s cheeks turn slightly pink and Doc just walks right back out of the kitchen, taking his coffee with him and seeking refuge, hopefully at a place where the concept of family doesn’t exist.

#rainbow six siege #doc #jäger #doc/jäger #fanfic #oneshot #request #doc shall find no peace #joséphine is my secret hero

[kentparsonbirthdaybash]

Kent Parson’s Birthday Bash 2017 Masterpost

Hello wonderful people! 

All participants should have received a gift today, so we’re ready to publish our masterpost of every fic produced for the challenge. Woohoo! We know you guys are reading like mad already and we’re excited to see the level of interaction and love going around. Remember to leave comments and kudos galore for all the wonderful creators!

You can access the AO3 challenge here at any time.

This masterpost list is organized alphabetically by recipient and will be updated on July 10th after author reveals! 

All this week, we will also be publishing several smaller posts that will organize fics by ship to make it easy for your shipper heart to find the fics you want! 

Thanks for much for participating in the challenge this year. It’s been a blast & we’ll see you next year!

Happy birthday, Kent Parson! 

Best,

@whiskeytangofrogman & @iamneversleepingagain

A

? for achilleees: drive on through the night (back home) (Rated T, Pimms, 5.1k): They’re not the same people they were in the Q, with hockey looming over their heads. They’re better.

? for aj4668: The People Who Leave Us (Rated T, Kent/Ransom and Kent/Swoops and Kent/OMC, 21.5k): Ransom signs with the Aces because they’re as far away as he can get from Boston. He figures that despite their reputation for playing dirty, they’re the most progressive team in the league. He looks over at Kent, whose face is sullen and lost in a house full of people here to be with him. He wonders if someone could know his entire story without him saying more than a few words.

? for allonsyarielle: Something New (Rated G, Patater, 1.6k): When Kent bumps into Alexei Mashkov at his favourite brunch place, he finds something very unexpected, something he'd almost given up on.

? for alpha_exodus: spring (Rated T, BittyParse, 22k): Sometimes Kent sits on the floor by the windows of his apartment and feels inexplicably lonely in a city seeking glory and affection, lets his heart feel full of things lost and yet to be found, and hopes for better things to come.

? for alwaysbuddy: About Time (Rated T, Pimms, 3.5k):“You sure you're ready?” Kent asked, looking up at Jack. “Kenny, I’m sure. You don't have to keep asking, okay? I want to do this with you,” Jack assured him, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Okay,” Kent echoed, laying his head on Jack’s chest, his fingers lacing through Jack’s. “Almost doesn't feel real, you know? Like, we’ve had to hide for so long and we just--won’t have to anymore.” “It'll be good,” Jack said, squeezing Kent’s hand. “It'll be fucking amazing, that's what it'll be,” Kent said, his lips stretching into a grin. “You just had to one up me,” Jack teased. “Always.”

? for asimpleline18: three (Rated T, Kent/Tater/Snowy, 1.5k): Three's a crowd -- or is it?

B

? for bittyybee: You Look Pretty Good Down Here (But You Ain’t Really Good) (Rated E, PB&J, 5.6k): Jack finds himself a little overwhelmed at his first BDSM kink party. Luckily, Kent and Bitty are there to show him the ropes.

? for blazeofglory: the fires we started (Rated E, Pimms, 6.1k): “How long?” Kent asks. He won’t look at Jack. He won’t. There’s a pause. “Since.” Jack doesn’t look at him either. “Since then.” Since you.

? for blindinglights: Cherry Pie: 50 min @ 425F (Rated E, PB&J, 2.2k): “Yeah. You want in, Zimms? Or should we get a room?” “Both?” Jack asked, looking to Bitty. “Both,” Bitty breathed. “Both is good.”

? for blithelybonny: you got me wanting you (Rated E, Nursey/Kent/Dex, 11.3k): “Kent – Parson?” Dex said, kind of a squeak. “Like…” “How many Kent Parsons you know of?” Nursey said. “Yeah, Parson. Number one celeb crush. I’m mad into that douche-ass smirk, man.”

? for blue_rocket_frost: (jealousy) get the best of me (Rated T, Pimms, 4.6k): There’s a familiar couple with warm smiles and crinkled eyes standing at the airport outside his gate with a giant sign sporting his name, and Alicia Zimmermann gives Kent the biggest, warmest hug he’s had off the hockey rink in years. Kent forgot how much he missed that. How much he missed them. In the excitement of it all, Kent forgets a very, very important thing about Bad Bob Zimmermann. Bad Bob Zimmermann is a terrible meddler.

? for bookwyrmling: Hold Me in Your Heart (Rated T, Kent & Zimmerparents, 7.6k): Kent Parson doesn’t need another dad. His own was bad enough. He and his sister have gotten along just fine without one ever since his mom finally kicked that piece of s*** out once and for all. He definitely doesn’t need some ex-hockey star pretending to be a dad to him.

C

? for cablesscutie: Some Days are Harder Than Others (Rated T, Patater, 1k): "Shit." Just when Kent was about to make a call back, the time and date hit him. It was his God damn birthday and he had a party and he's pretty sure he fucked up something. Kent has doubts about himself and lacks confidence, thankfully he always his goof of a boyfriend Tater there with him.

? for cambo: Not Quite Singing in Perfect Harmony (Rated T, Pimms and pre-PB&J, 27.1k): Bitty held up his phone with one hand and rubbed his eye with the other. “Kent Parson is engaged?” “Kent’s engaged,” Jack said. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it. Happy for him? Surprised? Something else? Bitty looked over at Jack and sighed. “Invite him to dinner,” he said.

? for carsonphillips: Breathe You In (Rated T, Patater and Kent/Swoops, 42.9k): "Don't hide away from me like this, Zimms. You don’t smell it?" The Soulmate Smell, people liked to call it. Scientifically, it was just pheromones, compatible people heightening each other’s sense of smell, to suss each other out like bloodhounds sniffing down their target. "Smell what Kenny? I didn't smell anything." "Don't lie to me!" Kent snaps. -- A soulmate AU where you can smell your soulmate from across the room, but not pinpoint who it is, and Kent tries to find out who he's smelling on the ice.

? for checkthanks: A long flight (Unrated, Kent/Swoops, Art): Fanart of Kenny and Swoops on a long flight home.

D

? for daydoodles: someone you maybe might love (Rated T, Pimms, 1.4k): Jack and Kent: the three happy years before the draft.

? for dogstarblack: the start of something (Rated T, Kent/Swoops, 20.3k): The story of how Jeff Troy became, at first, Kent Parson’s linemate, then his friend, and eventually something more than that.

E

? for eden22: Starved (Rated M, BittyParse, 16.3k): Kent suffers a career ending injury in a game against the Caps, forcing him to hang up his jersey for good. Now he must learn to cope with the loss of his past life and decide what to make of himself without hockey to define him. Lucky for him, help can be found in unexpected places.

? for entirely_too_tall: Something Sweet (Rated T, Pimms and Patater, 5.9k): When the media asks Kent what he was feeling as Mrs. Durand drove him to the Colisée Financière Sun Life for his first day with the Rimouski Océanic, he feeds them a cocktail of emotions: excitement, nervousness, and determination all at once. He isn’t lying—he was feeling those things—but his feelings were pushed to the back of his mind in favor of the Smell. The closer he got to the rink, the more detail he could pick up: freshly mown grass, fir, birch, lilac, and upon stepping into the rink, Kent swears he can smell maple syrup.

F

? for fieldofdiabolicalbutlovelykillers: Player 15 (Rated E, BittyParse, 20.4k): A list of things that Kent Parson definitely isn't: 1. He definitely isn't worried that the Aces just drafted Eric Bittle because he's a younger, faster version of Kent 2. He definitely isn't bitter and jealous that Bittle got Jack and Kent didn't 3. He definitely isn't falling for him

G

? for goldstandard: Moving in Slow Motion (Rated E, BittyParse, 8.6k): Bitty's room is overbooked at orientation, which means he has to stay in the only available bed left. But that bed is in the RA's room, and the RA in question happens to be Kent Parson.

I

? for imamaryanne: Yer a Wizard, Parser! (Rated T, Kent/OMC, 8.5k): Sure, Kent Parson is gay. But that’s not his biggest secret.

? for immarcesibility: aftermath (Rated T, Pimms, 1k): Jack and Kent meet up years later, and talk about what went wrong.

? for iprotectkennyp: Avocado Toast (Rated T, Kent/Snowy, 1.1k): “You won’t tell anyone, right?” “That you write romantic poetry or that you’re gay? In which Kent is oblivious as usual.

J

? for jacksbits: Best Birthday(s) Ever (Rated E, PB&J, 1.8k): Snippets of Kent's birthday through the years. He's not always around, but he's always on Jack's mind.

L

? for ladymars: always gold (Rated G, Kent/Nursey, 6.1k): Derek looks like fall; the good parts of it, at least, when the sun is shining through the cracks of red and orange trees, when everything is just a little softer and warmer and nicer. Kent always liked fall best, anyway. Or: the one where Kent and Derek both visit the park every morning to watch the sunrise, and their lives become infinitely more intertwined.

? for lautjuh1: Land of Wishing Wells (Rated E, Patater, 9.6k): Somehow Kent goes from dateless to Jack and Bitty’s wedding to going to it with Alexei Mashkov. Not a real date. No, they’ll play fake boyfriends, and then somehow break up after the wedding. He’s not even sure how or if they can pull it off, but Alexei is dead set on it working.

? for lydiastjames: we should just kiss (like real people do) (Rated T, Kent/Swoops, 6.7k): In which Kent Parson has a cat who keeps secrets from him, and a crush on a teammate that isn't much of a secret anymore.

M

? for madameofmusic: [pending]

? for mahons_ondine: With a Thousand Sweet Kisses (Rated T, BittyParse, 7.2k): Ten times Kent kisses a boy.

? for manhattanproject: A Timid Love Beneath The Skin (Rated T, Pimms and pre-PB&J, 7.2k): “You should go see a trainer about your shoulder,” Jack says, voice low, approaching Parse’s side at the bar. Parse’s head snaps up. “What are—well, hello to you, too. Jesus Christ, Jack.” Or, Parse gets injured during the All-Star Game, and Jack tries to make him go see a trainer. Things escalate. To... massages?

? for mcbangle: It’s About Forgiveness (Rated T, Kent/Swoops, 6.1k): Kent stares at his phone. He reads the text three times. He checks the name of the sender five times. It’s a text from Jack, who, outside of saying ‘good game’, he hasn’t talked to in six years.

? for minyrrds: Crossing the Line (Unrated, Kent/Swoops, 1.1k): Kent Parson resolved to get over his longstanding crush on his straight teammate long ago. Luckily for him, he was never successful.

N

? for niesbixby: find me somebody to love (Rated T, Kent/OMC and Kent/OFC, 12.6k): Kent Parson has it all. Money, fame, looks, you name it. The only thing missing in his life? A relationship. He has been single for longer than he likes to admit, and he's turned into the crankiest old person because of it. Of course, his friends notice that, so they do the only thing they know will help: Set Kent up on dates. The only problem? Kent is picky as fuck.

? for nightswatch: hesitate (Rated T, Kent/Swoops, 2.8k): “Is this your way of showing love? By insulting me?” That actually makes Jeff pause. He considers giving Kent a hint, at least a chirp at the weird swooping his stomach did. “Nah I just like insulting you to insult you.”  (Wherein it takes playing at different teams for these two to get together.)

O

? for oldlace: Might as Well Swim (Rated M, Pimms, 2.5k): Kent and Jack find themselves at the All Star Game together for the first time.

? for omgpieplease: Displaying Our Love (Rated E, PB&J, 4.9k): Kent receives a suggestive snap from Bitty. Jack doesn't have sex during the playoffs. Both of these things lead to one of the best nights of Kent's life.

? for originally: you could be happy (and i won’t know) (Rated T, Kent/Swoops, 10k): The year he turns 26, Kent Parson renews his contract, comes out and figures out how to talk about his feelings. It's a steep learning curve.

P

? for palateens: Meet Me When You’re Over Yourself (Rated T, Nursey/Kent and Shitty/Lardo/Kent, 4.1k): Meeting your soulmate is a choice. Some people make it more easily than others.

? for poisonousflower3: A Soft Place to Fall (Rated E, Patater, 2.3k): “I have surprise for you, Kenny,” Alexei whispered against Kent’s collarbone. The certain surprise was burning a hole in his suitcase, mocking him every time he grabbed clothes for the day. Alexei wanted to wait until Kent’s actual birthday to use it, and the wait had slowly been driving him crazy.

? for potrix: Chirping Kent Parson (Rated T, Patater, 3.7k): “I’m just--” Kent fumbled for an explanation for his behavior. The only father-figure he'd ever had was judging him for his culinary skills, his first love was flirting with his new boyfriend ten feet to his left, and said boyfriend was looking at Kent like he ran over his dog. Too much. Too ridiculous. Instead, Kent settled with changing the conversation. “What are you making, anyway?” “I make surprise dish. Rat stew. No ingredient but is okay, since you are here. Judges will be very surprised.”

R

? for redporkpadthai: Puerto Vallarta (Rated T, BittyParse, 2k): It's been five years since they met in a whirlwind vacation fling and five years since they began dating. Bitty wants to make sure the next five years, and much longer, start off on the right foot.

? for ronanlynchisneversleepingagain: Ace Observation (Rated T, Kent/Swoops, 7.3k): Alternatively Titled: Tyler Frye Gets His Groove On

S

? for sohini96: Patater Cuddling (Rated G, Patater, Art): A quiet morning spent cuddling on the couch.

? for staunchlyanonymous: To Fall Down at Your Door (Rated T, Pimms, 3.3k): Kent Parson is pretty sure he's completely ruined the best friendship he will ever have, and he runs from that knowledge. It takes him four years to find out just how wrong, and also how right he was.

? for summerfrost: Bed and Breakfast (Rated M, PB&J, Art): Kent's birthday celebration starts a bit early and continues the following morning.

T

? for takumiismypatronus: It’s Magic (Rated T, Kent/OMC, 12.6k): In 2001, Kent Parson reluctantly goes to see the first Harry Potter movie with his sister. He has no idea how much being a Harry Potter fan will change his life, even years later.

? for theunvanquishedzims: :3 (Rated G, Gen, Art): Kent is a cat burglar who has a friendly acquaintanceship with other villains he sees around town, at least until a bunny-themed burglar starts showing him up. Time to teach bunny-boy a lesson... if Kent can catch him, that is. (And does stopping a thief make you a hero? Oh no. Oops.)

? for ticktockclockwork: There For You (Rated M, BittyParse, 4.8k): Eric is a DJ rising through the gay club scene in Las Vegas when he and Kent Parson fall in love after Kent becomes the first openly gay player in the NHL. They start to fit into each others' lives until Kent makes a mistake because of his own insecurities. Can they fix it before they drift too far apart?

? for topieornottopie: The Proud and the Prejudiced (Rated M, Patater, 5.1k): “Don’t ruin pretty face,” a familiar, accented voice drawls. “It's only thing you have going for you.” “Fuck off, Mashkov,” Kent barks back automatically before he stills, and then slowly turns around to face the other man. “Mashkov? What the fuck are you doing here?” Kent has annoying but well-meaning friends, a lot of (internalized) issues, and a mild pretty bad swearing problem. But he gets to kiss a hot guy at Pride, so there's that.

? for tragedyistheirs: Friends In Low Places (Rated T, Patater, 4.8k): “Hey, Mashkov,” Kent says, “who do I gotta blow to get a drink around here?”

#omgcheckplease #omgcp #kent parson #parsepositive #kvpbb17 #2017 Challenge