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#i just love his curly long hair and his wings that look like the jaw of a kaiju!! brilliant *air quotes*monster design

teyamsatan · 5 months

Text

say you'll remember me

➳ young!coriolanus snow x f!reader

➳ warnings: angst, mentions of lucy gray, some violent imagery, no happy ending, allusions to smut, snow should be a warning by himself honestly

➳ wc: >1000 words

➳ a/n: i'm back from the dead after ?? months ?? because much to my dismay, i have fallen prey to movie coriolanus snow's charms (tom blyth the man that you are). i need that man biblically. no i have not read the books, please don't come for me, i don't care how unhinged he is, in the movies he's pookie and i love him and i could change him i KNOW it. anyway please enjoy x

He's so tall and handsome as hell He's so bad, but he does it so well I can see the end as it begins My one condition is

Coriolanus Snow was a hard man. Barely a man, when you really stopped to think about it, but it didn’t look like it right now, as he was sitting in the empty auditorium of the university he just left behind, with the stature and poise of a titan… or a god. His time in district 12 changed him. It brought out a side to him very few people knew him capable of, least of all his beautiful, gentle cousin, Tigris. The boy you once knew, golden curly locks of hair inundating the space on his face his azure irises usually lit up, wit and ambition so clearly displayed in them, the boy who, despite it all, despite all that stood against him, still had the remnants of a gentle heart in an environment that thrived on beating such a needless thing out of you… that boy seemed gone, killed by the person who stood tall in front of you, who desperately fought to let bygones be bygones.

Coriolanus Snow was a hard man. He had to be, to get to where he wanted, to become who he knew he was always destined to be. He had to be, to forget - the war, the famine, the hurt and pain, the loss of love, the loss of hope, the loss of innocence. His blood-red coat was still and unmoving, the fabric as rigid as the persona he skilfully embodied, even as the wind blew past him and circled the room you were carefully eyeing, noticing every detail of it, of him, as you tried your hardest to gauge a mood, or hear a thought, through the unwieldy silence that met you like a careful, long-lost friend.

“So curious, aren’t we, little bird?”

It shouldn’t have, not when he was the one whose back was turned to you, whose head lost in rumination, but his words, soft and whimsical, took you by surprise. As it always happened, your heart jumped in your chest in quiet anticipation, yearning to catch a glimpse of the one only you were fortunate enough to see.

“Is it less intimidating… now that you’re done?”

He turned then, his bright eyes finding yours immediately, drawn like a moth to a flame, and he smirked knowingly, the facade slipping away little by little, chipping like the paint on old walls. It’s funny. Out of the pair of you, you’ve always thought that was you. The moth. Forever risking your life and wings, for the beauty of it all, for the fire that you knew would either consume you or breathe new life in you. It was always a gamble, being in his presence, a game of Russian roulette you were addicted to, because how could you not be? How could you not… when he approaches you, slowly and methodically, his eyes never leaving yours, hungry and needy, speaking all the words he refused to say out loud, allowing you to see it - the glimpses of the boy. The boy you loved, the boy who survived somewhere inside of him, begging to be let out in the presence of someone who wouldn’t hurt the frail, withering existence that still clung to life the best way it knew how.

“Who says it was ever intimidating, huh?”

Your smile was enough to thaw the ice, enough for his hand, cold and calloused, warm and calming, to find your face, his thumb caressing the supple skin of your jaw, tracing the soft lips he dreamt about in whispered nights and wildest dreams. He tasted like roses and desire, and he kissed you like you were the breath he’s been denied his whole life. It was easy to forget in those moments, who he was, who you were, all that stood against you, the ghost of the girl he was trying so hard to banish from his mind.

“Let’s go for a walk, just you and me.”

Long walks in the city that was still reeling after the war you could barely remember felt intimate and almost like for your eyes and ears only, for only your bodies to feel and touch, for only your minds to wonder about and wander through. Through them, you knew Coriolanus - his many strengths and few weaknesses, his outright dreams and closeted desires, the depths of his soul he felt reluctantly comfortable to bare to you… and in turn, he knew you, more and more each day, as he found breath in the drowning sea that was once Lucy Grey and was levitated to better and never-seen before heights, away from the pain that haunted him every moment of his life.

“I think I loved her.” He tells you one night, his fingers massaging your back, tracing patterns onto it only he could understand, patterns you could spend the rest of your life trying to decipher.

“I think you loved her, too.” You sigh, happy that his walls, tall and reinforced in layers of heavy, indestructible brick, were slowly chipping at the seams for you, but sad at the ghost that tormented his every breathing moment, and, as a result, yours, too.

“I think I love you.” His voice was dark, serious, plagued with a twinge of uncertainty and fear, for the feelings he wanted to bury but couldn’t, that he wanted to hide from you and from himself, but decided against. It was short and simple, the confession, barely a few words whispered in the dead of night, while his glistening body was trembling softly under your touch and under the weight of the confession. It was short and simple, but it was enough to knock the breath of your lungs and any semblance of thought from your mind.

“You wouldn’t… leave, right? You won’t leave.”

You smile in his chest, and it almost hurts, the need to feel him, closer still, to touch your lips to his and pour it all into a kiss and watch him do the same.

“Never.”

In these moments, he wasn’t Coriolanus Snow, future president of Panem, the heir to the Plinth fortune. In these moments, he was your Corio, and you were his little bird. When you are done, the disjointed song of the city coming to life falls upon deaf ears as you hold each other, reluctant to let go and face the harsh realities of the world that surrounded you and seeped into every aspect of your being, no matter how unwelcome. You hoped you could stay like this forever, safe in his arms, in the arms that welcomed you, in the arms that held onto you and thus, onto the inherent goodness born into him that he was forever struggling to subjugate, that you hoped he never would.

But… Coriolanus Snow was a hard man. And when he inevitably left you one fateful night, you tried to forget the tears that stained his pillow, the last remnants of the boy who gave his dying breath in his soul, that cried and screamed for the life he could have had, a life that was taken from him, a life that the world and the man whose presence still inundated the now lonely, deserted room, conspired to end. And as you lay on the empty bed, your own tears mixing with his own as they drenched the fabric you knew you’ll never see again, you couldn’t help but wonder if the man he would become would remember you, and all you shared, or if to him, much like the boy you loved, you were already dead.

Say you'll remember me Standing in a nice dress, staring at the sunset, babe Red lips and rosy cheeks Say you'll see me again, even if it's just in your wildest dreams

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allthingsfook · 11 months

Note

Hiii! I’m here to request a ship 🖤

I’m curvy, 5’5, dark curly hair which is long and almost touches my lower back. I have a bunch of tattoos and a silver nose hoop, my favorite tattoo of mine is currently on my back which is landscape of the mountains.

I’m currently in school for fashion and it’s my dream to become a fashion stylist for musicians or anything that has to do with film such as television and movies.

I love music, I go to a bunch of concerts each month and I have a huge record collection. I love the outdoors, doing things such as hiking or hanging out at the beach. I also have a passion for horseback riding. I also loveee to travel, there isn’t a place that I wouldn’t love to explore.

I’m a kind and caring person and I tend to put others before me but if I’m betrayed by someone I instantly try my hardest to remove that person from my life because at the end of the day my mental health is my top priority.

Thank you sooo much! <3 I can’t wait to see who I’m shipped with

I ship you with…

Josh ✨

Josh would be captivated by your beauty the moment he spots you from across the room. He’d play with your hair all the time! Tickling your nose with the ends of it and brushing it down while he hugs you. And I do believe Josh has acknowledged how he is attracted to tattoos. I think it would be so sweet if you didn’t show Josh your tattoo prior to his first time seeing it. His jaw would drop when you shed your shirt to go swimming. He’d trace over it with his soft fingers and compliment it all day.

Don’t even imagine Sacred The Thread being a ode to you and your creative vision. You’d certainly help josh design his flashy stage outfits. Imagine the both of you on the road, set up at the table in the bus, sketching and coloring ideas together. Having someone so close to him help create his jumpsuits would make them 10x better! He’d act even more slutty while wearing them!

Since you have interest in designing for film too, Josh would definitely include you on his cinematic journey when he’s ready. I like the sounds of this creative power couple!!!! Manifest that shit!

I can only imagine the record collections each of the boys have, no less combining yours and Josh’s. You could have a whole room dedicated to them! In fact, I can envision a whole wing of the house full of vinyl, instruments, stereos and record players, books, and awards the boys have won!

Josh is also an avid outdoors man. Wouldn’t think that if you just looked at him, but that’s his decompression place! Anywhere from the beach to the mountains, he’d be ready to explore them with you! After horseback riding a couple years ago, Josh would like to hop in the saddle some more! It looked like he had a good time doing it, so call up the stables!

Josh is the most kind, genuine, caring person you’ll ever meet! The two of you would no doubt always be concerned for everyone else. Whether it’s just checking in with his parents or donating to charity, his heart is huge! Although Josh seems like he would take betrayal really hard, I think his forgiving nature is above all. He’d be one to give people a second chance and hopefully make things work. The both of you could help each other balance those characteristics.

He is super into psychology, so he understands the importance of keeping your mind balanced and a peaceful conscious. When your struggling, he will always have a shoulder to cry on and lending ear. He’d always have the right words to help you see on the positive side. And when your mental health is thriving, he would reinforce that. Making remarks like, “You look like you are doing really well today. You glow when your feeling good. I’ve never see anything so beautiful.”

I hope you enjoy the ship! Let me know what you think 💗💗 it means the world

#greta van fleet #gvf #peaceful army #gvf ships #songships #gvf moodboard #moodboard #starcatcher #greta van fluff #gvf imagine #joshgvf #josh gvf #josh kiszka #joshkiszkaship #joshua michael kiszka

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padsnprongs · 3 years

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wolfstar headcanons that ✨just make sense✨

french sirius and welsh remus

they would speak to each other in their different languages all the time, mostly just to mess with each other.

they’d also say really romantic things, but in their different language, so the other wouldn’t know

remus is like insanely tall, but always slouches, whereas sirius is literally a dwarf but stands up really tall (talk about that ✨aristocracy✨ you know)

when remus had his growth spurt in the summer of fifth year, sirius was, understandably, shocked

but also maybe a little annoyed

how was he supposed to kiss him now?

in the end he decided to just grab his tie and pull him down

which remus didn't particularly mind

remus keeps his hair short, because it gets in the way. sirius loves remus' hair, because of how curly it is - remus hates it for the same reason

'I look like an idiot, pads!'

'no, you look cute.'

after sirius started living with the potters', his hair grew long, finally free of the strict rules of grimmauld place

when remus saw his long hair for the first time, on the train platform, he fell in love with him a little more

sirius turns into padfoot on the days surrounding the full moon to comfort remus. he’s literally like a therapy dog at this point.

sirius’ bed hasn’t been slept in since fifth year

cuddles

so many cuddles

lots of pda, much to james’ disgust

‘ugh, you guys, get a room!’

‘prongsie stop being homophobic.’

‘im not- what am i even supposed to say to that??’

‘nothing, that’s the point.’

sirius has a tattoo of the full moon that changes with the moon phases and remus has a tattoo of the canis major constellation - while the rest are just inked on, the sirius star seems to be actually glowing.

remus always seems to lose his jumpers, even though they’re some of his most valued items of clothing. he will eventually find sirius wearing them, but he can’t even be mad because sirius just looks so adorable in them.

remus, in return, will steal sirius’ leather jacket, which sirius doesn’t particularly mind. james, however, gets especially mad whenever this happens

‘well how come he’s allowed to wear it and I’m not? I’m literally your brother!’

sirius rests his head on remus’ lap whilst remus reads to him, and remus will stroke his hand through sirius' hair

remus loves to french plait his hair, and sirius is adamant about leaving the plait in for as long as possible

‘sirius, it’s been three days, you need to wash your hair! I can always re-plait it!’

‘...fine. but only if you promise.’

remus is constantly freezing cold, which shows through the countless jumpers and scarves he will pile on, even in the height of summer

his feet alone are like blocks of ice, which sirius never misses an opportunity to complain about whenever they share a bed

sirius, on the other hand, is a human sauna, and will still be wearing shorts in the middle of winter

when they cuddle, their contrasting levels of body heat cancel each other out perfectly

basically, whenever remus gets too cold, or sirius gets too hot, you’ll undoubtedly find them clinging to each other

sirius always gets really worried after the full moon, and insists on looking after remus - he makes sure he has enough pillows, sneaks him food because the hospital wing food isn’t the nicest, makes him drink water, takes notes for him during the lessons he misses, and just generally stays by his side as long as he can, until madam pomfrey has to kick him out

sirius worries so much during and after the full moon that it often makes remus feel guilty, but he also finds it really sweet that sirius cares so much

he still tries to make sirius see sense and stop him from worrying, because he has really bad self esteem issues after the full moon and doesn’t think he deserves it. whenever he tries to tell sirius this, he says that sirius shouldn’t feel obligated to look after him, because he’s a monster.

every single time, sirius will take his hand, look into his eyes, and tell him firmly, ‘you are not a monster, moony.’

peter will then add that ‘you fold your socks, moony, we’re not exactly scared of you.’

and remus will wonder how he got so lucky as to have such amazing friends

whenever sirius is ill, remus will try his best to return the favour. sirius will insist that he doesn’t get ill, ‘don’t worry, remus, I’m fine’, even though he can barely move

but remus won’t listen, and turns into a proper mother hen, fussing over him and making sure he has everything he need, just trying to repay sirius for all he does during the full moons

illness = constant cuddles

but lbr there are constant cuddles regardless

they got together because they both kept confiding in james and lily about their unrequited feelings and how hopelessly in love they were, and james and lily got sick of it and decided to work together to set them up bc they were both so hopelessly oblivious.

that’s also how lily got to know james better, and see that he wasn’t as arrogant as she thought, and he actually cares deeply about his friends

but these are wolfstar headcanons not jily so moving on

they had a very touchy feely relationship even before they got together. they were always very close, and their bond was different than it was with james and peter

sirius loves to bake, whilst remus loves to cook, but if they try to do it the other way around, bad things happen

they would often sneak into the kitchens late at night and try to make something, fool around, mess up, and end up snogging surrounded by the mess of ingredients

late nights on the astronomy tower!! they did this even before they got together; when either of them couldn’t sleep, they would go up there and just sit together and look at the stars. their first date was a picnic up there, and it became their own special place where they both felt safe

nose kisses!! forehead kisses!! cheek kisses!! adorable

whenever they're messing about they'll almost always end up in each others arms, saying ‘I hate you’ whilst grinning bc they both know that they don’t mean it and it’s actually the exact opposite

when sirius can’t sleep, he’ll watch remus (in like. a non-creepy way) and count his freckles. once remus caught him in the act and thought it was the softest thing he’d ever seen

remus talks in his sleep. sometimes he just mutters random words that don’t make sense, and sometimes he can have full on conversations with sirius.

sirius thinks it’s the funniest thing ever and teases remus mercilessly about it in the mornings, even though remus has no memory of it and denies everything.

when they’re alone in the hospital wing after a full moon, sirius will hold remus’ hand and sing softly to comfort him and help him sleep.

remus absolutely adores sirius' voice, and tries to get him to sing more, and in front of other people, but sirius is adamant that the only reason he sings to remus is because it helps soothe him, and his voice isn’t all that great.

his lack of self confidence about his voice is due to his parents constantly yelling at him to stop singing, because they said it was annoying and he didn’t have a good voice, and he believed them, and still does. It’s one of his biggest insecurities.

the first time they said they loved each other was actually an accident. they had gotten all caught up in planning a prank and sirius smirked and said, ‘aren’t i just the most creative person you’ve ever met?’, with a dramatic flip of his hair

remus just chuckled and replied, ‘that’s why I love you.’

remus didn’t even realise he’d said it out loud until he saw sirius staring at him with a dropped jaw.

then remus panicked, but before he could get up and leave, sirius grinned and said it back.

and then they kissed, obviously

remus may be tough and sarcastic and sirius may be proud and overconfident but they’re both big softies really

remus cheers sirius on at every single quidditch practice, come rain or shine

he says he’s just supporting his boyfriend, but secretly he thinks Sirius looks really good in that quidditch jersey

remus loves it when sirius wears eyeliner. no reason. just looks cool.

literally everyone had a bet on when they would get together. minnie and dumbledore, james and pete, lily and marlene, james and lily, james and dorcas...

james likes betting

there are frequent updates on their relationship in the staff room, because all of the teachers just know they're meant to be

the teachers had a field day when they first got together

madam pomfrey, especially, always sees them together in the hospital wing, and by fourth year, is their no1 shipper

they both get frequent nightmares, and will always comfort each other and cuddle after because they feel safe in each other’s arms.

literally the least toxic relationship ever. they’re both incredibly honest with each other, always talk to each other about how they feel, but also have that perfect balance of banter

if not soulmates, why moon and stars??

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static-fanatic-1 · 3 years

Note

Yandere me compress, dabi, hawks, and kurogiri see darling in their favorite lingerie set hcs? Spicy ask~

Very spicy indeed

*chef’s kiss*

I’m also feeling like a Drabble would work well, after all head canons would be a little lack luster.

Mr. Compress:

Atsuhiro was pleasantly surprised when he entered the little apartment you two shared and you were seated on the couch awaiting his arrival. Usually he finds you in your room, working on whatever project tickled your fancy, but today it seemed like you were waiting for him.

A gentle smile pulled at his lips and he took off his masks. Soft curly hair stuck to Atsuhiro’s forehead, but he didn’t mind, there was something far more interesting he had to explore.

“How was your day, darling?” He mused, leaning over the back of the couch.

Your cute face glanced up, lips slightly opened in surprise, like you didn’t know he’d be home so soon. Then he saw it, the adorable set of lingerie he had previously bought you. It was a light shade of pink with lace and a small bit between the breasts. “It was hot....” You whined, a strained frown on your lips as you tried not to smile.

“Was it now?” Chuckled Atsuhiro, wondering over to scoop you into his arms. Large, warm hands wondered up your thighs, up your waist and to your cheeks. “I can make it even hotter in here, if you want me too.” He mumbled, lips ghosting your jawline with hot breathe tickling the skin.

Dabi:

His skin was hot, too hot. Scarred, marred, and rough to the touch, Dabi’s touch almost burned the flesh on the thighs he roughly groped. Hands traveled up and down to soak in every inch of you, each soft caress bringing a tingly feeling into your spine.

“Chill, baby, I’m just touching you.” The lips latched onto your neck sucked and licked, nibbled and bit, marking you up for the world to see.

“Your hands... their too hot.” You squirmed in his grip, hissing when they got a little hotter.

“A little too hot to handle?” Dabi chuckled, biting down harder as his hands traveled up your waist and onto your clothed chest. Such a sexy pair of lacy lingerie. Scarred hands moved back to your thighs and teased at the garter belts and stockings.

You scoffed and let his lips pull at your own. “You’re such an asshole.”

“And that’s why you love me. Right?”

You rolled your eyes, and moved your jaw. “Keep telling yourself that, scar face.”

Dabi growled and bit down on your neck, sucking and adding to the numerous markings littering your skin. “Sure thing, doll.”

Hawks:

This is the best day Hawks has had in a while. Seeing you with the red set of lingerie he got you really did beat the fried chicken he ate a few nights ago. And that was some damn good chicken.

But the pretty bows around your supple thighs and waist, tied into pristine red bows, really is the best view he could ever ask for. He fluttered his way onto the balcony of his condo, happily soaking in the little yelp from his darling’s lips. “Hey chickpea! Whatcha waiting for?”

“Keigo! I told you to stop doing that!”

“Couldn’t help myself, you’re just too cute!” He soared into the room and scooped you into his arms, wings folding around your form. “Love the ribbons, glad you took the time for me.”

Hawks threw you onto the bed and crawled all over you. His lips trailed up your calf to your clothed hips. “I’ll make sure it was worth it, hm? How does that sound?”

Kurogiri:

When he exited through the ghostly portal and into your apartment, he was extremely tierd. A long day of working and dealing with master’s student, it never got easier. At least every once in a while he could come home and soak in your presence.

But today was much different, as when he laid eyes on you, you were already asleep on your bed with something he didn’t expect. Dark purple lingerie, soft with a little bit of lace and straps crisscrossing behind your back. Soft panties hugging your supple ass, you really looked comfortable.

Kurogiri chuckled and threw off his suit and dress shirt, taking the time to get comfortable before sliding into the bed with you. Pulling the covers over the two of you, he didn’t except the soft hand stopping his own.

You hummed and turned over to face him. “Welcome home, sorry I fell asleep.”

“It’s okay.” Hummed Kurogiri, his ghastly like hands leaving a trail of goosebumps up your arms. “We can spend more time another day.”

He kissed your forehead, hands gently trailing up and down your arms to sooth whatever worry you have. “Let’s get some sleep, sweetheart.”

#yandere mha x reader #yandere mha #yandere bnha #Yandere kurogiri #Yandere kurogiri x reader #yandere dabi x reader #yandere dabi #yandere touya todoroki #yandere touya #Yandere hawks #Yandere hawks x reader #yandere keigo x reader #Yandere keigo #yandere mr compress #Yandere mr compress x reader #Yandere astuhiro #Yandere x reader #yandere drabble

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jaskierswolf · 3 years

Note

can I please have no 9? it's okay if you're not comfortable with it.

#9 - Blood play

I went with fae!Jaskier and geraskier.

CW: dubcon (they are both very into it but magic is involved), blood play (not as much as there should be I got distracted), sex magic, implied sexual content (how do I always manage to avoid the actual sex bit?)

_____

Geralt had been travelling with Jaskier for decades when the truth spilled out. It started, as most things did, with a contract; a horned beast that had been luring wives aways from their husbands, stealing children in the middle of the night. No one had been able to confirm what the creature was, only that it had horns. Some villagers said wings, others said claws, but they were all terrified of the monster, and so a witcher had been called.

Really he should have noticed something was off about Jaskier sooner, but his glamour was powerful magic, powerful enough to fool even Geralt’s witcher’s medallion.

When Geralt had entered the clearing, the last thing he had expected was to find Jaskier sitting cross-legged in the middle of a patch of wildflowers, two curly horns protruding from his tousled chestnut brown hair. His bone structure was sharper, more angular, and his face was covered in a dusting of freckles. The villagers had been correct with both the wings and the claws. Jaskier was almost unrecognisable under all the changes, except for the familiar cornflower blue eyes that glowed faintly in the dim light.

Fae.

Or what Geralt assumed was fae, he’d never had the pleasure to meet the elusive creatures before that night, and Jaskier didn’t exactly give him a chance to ask. Before Geralt could even put his swords away, Jaskier’s lips were on his, sharp teeth nicking at Geralt’s lips and the tangy metallic taste of blood danced on his tongue. His head immediately started to spin as they tore at each other’s clothes, his swords clattering to the floor, all but forgotten. Nothing mattered beyond Jaskier, this beautiful creature that he had loved for so long and yet never allowed himself the chance when he’d believed his friend to be so fragile and mortal.

“Jask,” he gasped as the fae’s lips trailed along his jaw, teeth grazing against his neck.

“Shh, dear heart, we’ll talk later. Tonight you are mine,” Jaskier sang, his voice impossibly even more melodic than normal, taking on a strange lilting quality that was quite simply magical.

“Hmm,” Geralt agreed. “Yours.”

Jaskier’s claws sliced through the dark undershirt until the garment hung loosely on Geralt’s shoulders. It shouldn’t have turned him on as much as it did, but after so many years of believing his bard was just a simple bard, this display of power sent shivers down Geralt’s spine, heat pooling at his core. He wanted more, he wanted to give more, everything that he had.

“I can make you mine,” Jaskier purred, a long taloned finger stroking along Geralt’s cheek, stinging as it cut into the skin.

He swallowed, his head thick with lust as the scent of their arousals mixed together around him. Every breath made it harder to think. Every heartbeat made his cock ache, straining against the confines of his leather trousers.

He needed-

He wasn’t sure what he needed, but he knew that Jaskier would look after him. The bard always had, and Geralt trusted him.

“Yes,” he panted as Jaskier’s lips brushed against his cheek along the freshly made wound.

“You don’t know what I’m asking.”

“Yes.”

Jaskier moaned, the sound muffled as their lips once again crashed together in a mess of tongues and teeth. Claws scraped down Geralt’s back, and he hissed in pain, feeling the wet trickle of blood along his spine. It felt good, he didn’t know why, but every slice of Jaskier’s claws against his skin felt like fire in his blood, burning arousal making him feel more alive than he’d ever felt.

“Fuck,” Geralt gasped, gripping onto Jaskier’s shoulder for dear life as the bard’s wings wrapped around them, hiding them from view.

“Blood magic,” Jaskier murmured, bright eyes watching him carefully. “Binds us together, stronger than any djinn.” The last bit was spat out bitterly, and Jaskier bared his fangs before snapping his jaw closed, then the fire in his eyes faded away, making him seem almost human once more. “But I’ll make it feel good for my darling, so good.”

Geralt pressed their foreheads together, still shaking from the waves of pleasure that had flooded through his body with every cut from Jaskier’s claws. “I trust you, Julek. Do it.”

“With pleasure, darling,” Jaskier purred, his lips once again muffling Geralt’s cries as long talons dug into his skin.

#the witcher #geraskier #fae!jaskier #jaskier pankratz #geralt of rivia #wolfie's witcher writing

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burntmcnuggies · 4 years

Text

Office Sex

Hawks x Reader

Warnings: Office sex, oral sex (male receiving), cursing, and slightly mean Hawks.

This is something short I wanted to make while I work on requests! Not my best but... I hope you all still like it! Requests are CLOSED for the time being! I’ll open them up again later! But I want to focus on the ones I have currently while balancing school and work as well :) thank you for your patience! Enjoy!

“Mmm~! Kei’! Hah... baby harder!”

“I-I’m trying! Fuck! Your pussy feels so good... You’re so fuckin’ tight dove! Mmm! I can’t last much longer like that!”

The wing-hero’s body slammed ruthlessly atop you, his hips meeting yours in pure bliss. The wet sounds of your pussy echoing in the room while his ripely round balls deliciously smacked against the smooth skin of your ass covered in his pre-cum and your arousal. His wooden desk was creaking loudly, squealing under the weight and sinful activities. The intoxicating smell of sex was beginning to overwhelm you as you neared your climax, and it was clearly getting to your boyfriend too judging by the look on his face. His lip caught between his teeth, bushy feathery brows scrunched up in his pleasure, desperately panting as he tries to get both of you to climax quickly. You quickly covered your mouth, squeezing your eyes shut as his pace got quicker and harsher, sending you over the edge.

“Mmm! K-Keigo! I’m cu-“

“Yeah baby! Fuckin’ cum for me! O-Oh yeah! Yeaahhhhh~ fuck! Ahhh shit! C-Cummin-“

*KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK*

Hawks froze above you, his eyes wide as he quickly pulled out and ushered you under his desk. He lowered his tight black shirt in the process and sat down in his seat, holding his hands firmly together on his desk. “Come in!” He called out, clearing his throat in the process trying to calm himself down and ignore the raging hard on he still had. If it wasn’t for the person he was meeting with, he would’ve ignored the door and continued until he reached his euphoric climax. However, the person he forgot he had a meeting with was none-other than his idol, the number one hero, Endeavor. “What were you doing Hawks? For the fastest hero you weren’t very fast answering the door.”

“Always a sharp one I see! Nothin’ gets past you does it?” Hawks flashed a cheeky smile, but it instantly faltered and twisted into one of panic. Your hands were on his still exposed cock, gently running your fingers up and down his throbbing red shaft. He sighed in bliss and furrowed his brows deeply, scooting his chair in further so he could have better access to touch your face. “Did you receive my letter about the recent reports?” Endeavor wasn’t one to beat around the bush, he plopped down the opposite of his desk, his eyes burning holes into Hawks’ twitching expression. Your lover cleared his throat, one of his hands above the desk looking through the letter absentmindedly while his other was in your hair, urging you to keep touching him. “Of course I have. C’mon Endeavor, I’m not that lazy.”

His leathery gloved fingers intertwined through your hair, pulling harshly as he pushed your face towards his erected flushed cock. His cheeks turned pink, his wings quivering at the sensation of your lips ghosting over his searing hot skin. “Are you okay, Hawks?” Endeavor questions, raising an eyebrow at his strange behavior. It was a bold move of your lover to let you suck him off in front of his idol. Any other person that entered he would sacrifice their eyes for his orgasm. However, that wasn’t the problem here. “Y-Yeah, why wouldn’ I be? Are you actually worried about me now, Endeavor?” Everyone viewed the pro-hero as a laid back, leisurely, and a friendly face. A strong man with strong beliefs, but he only had one flaw, and that was his bird-like quirk. His body was incredibly sensitive to pleasurable touches, especially when he was in a mood like he was just moments ago. “You’re mistaking things. Now focus, you moron.”

While Endeavor began to talk more in detail about the letter he had sent Hawks about some villain sightings, you were busy rubbing his inner thighs gently while trailing your hands and fingers over his V-line and over the curly tufts of blonde hair that lay just above his erect cock. A shiver ran through his spine feeling such an action from you. He rested his head in his hand, secretly digging his fingers into his face while he struggled not to moan out and give away what was going on underneath his wooden desk. His wings spread out widely once he felt your wet lips gently trail down his slick shaft covered in his own pre-cum and your sweet arousal. He smelled so intoxicating. You parted your wet lips to run your tongue down his deliciously potent balls, sucking one into your mouth coating it with your saliva before you worked on the other one.

Hawks was a struggling mess above the desk, his hands now shaking harshly, his eyes struggled to stay open as his brain began to turn to mush in your hands. Sweat was still present, dripping off his slightly tan skin and onto his gloved hand, still digging fingerprints into his own cheeks attempting to keep quiet. “G-Geez it’s hot! Aren’t you hot, Endeavor? Well I mean you’re always hot with all those flames around your face.” He gave a painfully forced cheeky smile, sadly interrupting the famous pro while he was speaking. This of course irked the buffer man, sending the younger high-ranked hero a silencing glare. Hawks gave a nonchalant shrug and rested his hands in his lap, or so it seemed.

His hands reached forward under the table, attempting to grab your head. Due to the small amount of space, he caught you instantly, tugging your hair and grabbing his cock with his other hand. His jaw noticeably clenched upon the feeling of his own hand against his aching erection. But that isn’t what he wanted, he wanted to feel your sweet pussy around him again. However, you weren’t about to give him that luxury while Endeavor was still present in the room. He had to settle for 2nd best, that whorishly hot mouth he loved to suck his cock. He would press your nose flush against his blonde pubes so you could spell his musky scent, while his cock head occupied the back of your throat. Just the thought alone was making him twitch in anxiousness.

“Keigo~” you mumbled softly against the soft slick skin of his meaty cock, sending shivers up the pro’s spine. Suddenly a pen dropped onto the floor beside you, halting your movements swiftly as his voice echoed underneath the desk. “Ah Sorry, lemme get that.” He ducked down to pick up the pen he had purposefully dropped, but instead of going for the pen, he went for your face. His hand grabbed your cheeks, smushing them together as he dangerously growled to you through grit teeth, barely even a whisper. “Put my fucking cock in your mouth. Right, fuckin’ now. You filthy slut.” His thick gloved fingers ran over your lips, shoving two fingers in your mouth before he pulled your tongue out and spit right into you mouth. Salvia mixing and sliding down to the back of your throat.

He was too fucking hot.

His head popped back up above the table, giving Endeavor a cheeky lopsided smile. “Heh, sorry about. Guess I had a bit too much caffeine this morning.” His hands rested against his lap, scooting his chair in more to where he was slumped against his chair, knees pressed back against the wood of his desk. His hands quickly found your hair, pulled harshly and yanking your face to slap against his cock. Wishing to please him, you immediately got to work, swirling your tongue around his beautiful raging red cock-head before sucking softly onto the cute little head. You slowly opened your mouth and silently spit on him, moaning quietly at the sight of his cock covered in your spit, juices, and his tasty pre-cum.

“Mmm, continue please Endeavor.” Hawks called out, emphasizing the word please with a husky voice filled with desire meant for his cute little lover beneath him. Once his idol began to continue, Hawks decided to focus his attention back on you, pulled your hair harder, bucking his hips weakly, urging you —no, commanding you to suck him right and to stop teasing him. You finally gave in to his commands, slowly leaning forward and taking his length into your mouth. Tantalizingly slow to be specific. Your shallow breaths through your nose were beginning to make your head spin, excluding the burning temperature of your body. His hand in your hair jerked you down, making your throat clench around him, surprised at the sudden action. A small gag slipped out and Hawks quickly cleared his throat to cover the noise. “Ahem! Ahhh~ fuck~ s-Sorry I just, don’t feel too good, heh. Nothin’ number two can’t handle though.”

That was a lie. He couldn’t handle you sucking him off underneath his desk in front of his long-time idol. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t turned on by it. Maybe he should invite Endeavor to join? Instinctively his wings spread wide, casting long shadows and fluffing up at the thought of someone else touching his precious baby bird. You whimpered quietly against his cock, letting his hand set your pace for pleasing him. Once he had firmly set the pace, your hand approached his, interlacing both of your fingers together. After feeling the reassuring squeeze, you began to bob your head onto him, sucking a bit harder once you reached his beautiful rose red head. Your tongue flicking over his slit, before engulfing the rest of him in again.

“Hmm~ h-hmm~ mmm~ Ngh...” Hawks attempted to play his moans off as humming, his eyes slowly beginning to roll back into his skull, his hand tightly clenching onto yours as a form of support for himself. His other hand rose and slapped a hand over his mouth, brows furrowing as his bangs began to stick to his sweaty forehead. “Oh yeah... fuck yes...” he murmured into his gloved hand, causing the number one pro to stop with irritation. The wing hero instantly shut up without the sound of another voice to cover up his moans. Saliva was beginning to cost his gloved hand. His wings began to tremble, flapping slightly and fanning Endeavors already hot flames. “Yeah, just like that, just like that... just... h-hah...” his breath shakily stuttered out lewdly, annoying the other hero.

“I’ll just reschedule. You’re obviously not paying any attention.” Hawks nodded quickly apologizing quickly before he banged a hand on the table feeling you begin to massage his balls. Kneading them as if you were trying to push his sweet fertile sperm out of his cute little head. “Fuck! Can’t take it anymore! Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Endeavor halted in his movements and looked at Hawks unsure whether he should leave him alone. He scowled and stood, towering over the desk and Hawks himself. The number two hero quickly sat up and leaned over the desk to hide you, his hand moving your head faster. The only thing on his mind at the moment was reaching his delicious climax. “Is there something I could do to help?”

“Mmm! I’m... I’m-! Oh fuck! A-Argh! Fuck yeah! Ngh!” Hawks gasped and held your head down, his hips bucking weakly into your mouth while his salty seed spilled down your throat and into those cute cheeks of yours. Endeavor’s scowl grew deeper and he craned his head in order to find out what the hell was wrong with him. He’d never seen Hawks like this. “Should I call an ambulance?” His wings were trembling and twitching, spread wide until they slowly began to droop with relief. Face covered in sweat with a fucked out expression on his face. He could definitely see now where Shoto got his obliviousness. Sharp golden avian eyes cast down to your mouth still holding his softened cock and silently snarled at you, mouthing the word, “Swallow.”

You partially did as he instructed slowly pulling away taking as much of his love juice as your could before moving the sticky substance around in your mouth, opening it to present him with his milk. He instantly got hard again. “Huh? Oh no! I don’t need to go to the hospital, just a small break. Let’s reschedule this over some food next time, my treat. Sorry for makin’ ya sit here without my attention.” He humbly apologized, finally tearing his eyes away from your slutty mouth to give a cheeky smile. Endeavor only huffed in response and walked towards the door. “Moron. Don’t agree to things you won’t be able to do. Because I won’t come next time.”

He left with a swift close of the door and stomping footsteps down the hallway. Hawks sent a feather to lock the door and instantly pulled you up and kissed you harshly, whimpering once he tasted his cum still in your mouth. As a punishment for not fully satisfying you, you pulled his hair back and forced him to get a salty taste of his seed. A sloppy moan past his lips once you pulled back, his lips chasing after yours, only tied together by a small string of salvia and cum. “He’s right you know... You agreed to satisfy my needs. And here I am... still haven’t cum yet while you’re the only one who’s gotten that sweet relief... maybe I won’t come to you next time... maybe I’ll go to someone who can actually settle my needs. Right, Kei’?” He scoffed and laughed at your stupid words, smirking as he grabbed your hips and pecked your lips.

“No need to worry about that, baby bird. I’ll satisfy you until your hips fuckin’ break.”

#hawks smut #mha hawks #hawks x reader #bnha hawks #takami keigo smut #keigo takami x reader #my hero academia

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mylifeisactuallyamess · 3 years

Text

Epilogue

General Hux x Female Reader/Kylo Ren x Female Reader

A/N: This is it. The last time I will post about this story (unless I visit them in a one shot.) I am so sad but so grateful at the same time, this fic got a lovely following and I appreacite anyone who took the time to comment/like/reblog any or all chapters. This fic spawned from a Writer Wednesday prompt months ago, so thank you @autumnleaves1991-blog for posting that picture of the brick arch and pond all those weeks ago! Here we go!

Warnings: PTSD mentions, war mentions, none of them are ok.

Word Count: 2284

Read the Epilogue here on AO3

Masterlist

The air was crisp, carrying the tang of the salty sea and wrapping it around you, ruffling your dress. You shielded your eyes against the dipping sun, seeing the light refract off the water as it heaved below you, the sounds of the waves crashing into the cliffs boomed up to you creating a sound like thunder. The tide was high and that meant they’d be back any moment. You looked back at the cottage behind you, the white walls and the pretty flowers were picture perfect, it was everything you’d ever dreamed, the makeshift hangar sat to the side and it housed the X-Wing you had from your time with the Resistance. Next to it was another larger more recognisable ship, you had some visitors and you needed to prepare Armitage before he saw them.

A giggle carried on the breeze that swirled around you and your face softened into a smile, first you could only see your daughter's head on the path as they came up the steep hill, her long bright red hair caught in the wind, the long tresses flowing around her and glowing with the bright light of the sun. She was giggling, looking down as she plastered her hands all over your poor husband's face. You stifled a laugh as he pretended to stumble, or maybe he really did because she kept shoving her fingers in his eyes.

“Phasma! I can’t see!” You heard him cry followed by more peals of laughter as she continued her assault. “Oh look! It’s Mummy. Hold on!” She squealed as he began to run, holding her legs in place on his shoulders, so she bounced happily full of laughter and smiles until he came to a stop before you. His chest heaved and he let out a loud huff. “You’re getting a bit heavy, little one!”

“Shush Daddy, I am not.” You cocked an eyebrow making a mental note of how much she sounded like her father. Armitage leaned in and gave you a kiss on the lips.

“Who’s here?” He asked quietly.

“Well, it’s Poe, Finn, Rose, Mitaka and….” You paused, not sure if he wanted to hear his name or not.

“And?” He pressed.

“And Ben.” You saw the blank expression fall over his face and you inwardly sighed. “Look they’re not here to cause trouble, the war is over, it has been for a few years now.” You ran a hand through your daughter's hair as she clutched your leg. “We barely see anyone. It's nice for them to drop by.” He moved away, putting a hand in his pocket while using the other to run through his hair. Even after all this time he kept it in the same style, just a habit you guessed or maybe he’d just never experienced another style.

“There’s a reason we don’t see anyone,” he said stiffly. You dragged Phasma with you, coming to stand next to him.

“Armitage, do you forget how I was the one who discovered Finn and Rose. I brought them to you.”

“And I ordered them to be executed and Finn…” he glanced down at his daughter. His hand resting on top of yours in her hair as she gazed at him with big green eyes. You knew he wanted to say Finn killed Phasma, but you felt like pointing out the war was responsible for everything that had happened. All these people had been puppets for someone else, made to believe in something that ultimately influenced their actions and choices.

“It’s over now.” You needed him to acknowledge that, the war was over. You supposed it would have been harder for him than the rest, being brought up and beaten into a person who should always strive for glory and control. Finn managed to break free, even Ben but then he had a loving family for the first few years of his life. He had a taste of normality, as did Poe, Rose had her sister until the evacuation of D’Qar. But Hux had no one, except Phasma and Mitaka and even then he was their General, their leader. He was alone for so long you didn’t know how to get him to see they were all just people now. What they had all been through was horrific, you just knew for Armitage, it was harder to adjust. He didn’t say anything else and you crouched down to Phasma’s level.

“There are some very special people in our house to meet you including Uncle Mitaka.”

“Me kaka?” She screamed in glee, fisting her hands under her chin in joy before tearing off to the house. Hux watched her go, a strange expression on his face. You stood, taking his hand and holding it tight. You made him look at you, feeling the stubble on his cheeks which he let grow now. The red dusting covered his chin and cheeks making him look rugged and even more handsome.

“They wouldn’t have come if they were going to be rude or start a fight or accuse you of things that happened years ago. They are here to see us, as a family. If they can forgive Ben they can forgive you.”

“But Ben is clearly a new man now…” he started and you cut him off by putting a hand over his mouth.

“And look at you. No uniform, no hat, you have a daughter, Armitage, you live in a bloody cottage.” He sighed against your hand and you knew you had won this round.

You stepped away from the cliff edge tugging on his hand and he reluctantly came with you, dragging his feet slightly. You went through the back door Phasma had left open and shut out the dusk that was settling on the cliffs around the cottage. Voices plus your daughter's laughter came from the main living area and you squeezed Hux’s hand reassuringly before walking in. A chorus of greetings met you both and even though you’d said hello before you went round and hugged them all again, pleased to see Hux shaking hands with Poe and Finn. You held your breath when it came to Ben who was sitting in your biggest armchair with Phasma perched on his lap.

“Armitage,” Ben said and held out his hand. The moment stretched for longer than you liked but eventually your husband reached out and shook it. Everybody sighed with relief and you asked if anyone wanted a drink, taking Hux with you into the kitchen. He helped you prepare some drinks in silence, listening to laughter and banter from the others mingled with your daughter's cries of joy as someone was clearly tickling her. Hux carried the drinks and you handed them out, a pleased feeling began to fill your chest as Poe engaged him in conversation. Mitaka stoked the fire and a flare of heat blazed into the room making it more cosy.

“How has he been?” Dopheld asked you quietly.

“The nightmares seem to have eased, it helps that he has Phasma with him nearly all of the time,” you looked over seeing Armitage still in conversation with Poe, your daughter now nestled in his arms sucking her thumb as she gazed at the curly haired pilot. “She seems to know what he needs when he needs it.” You felt a hand on your shoulder and threw a smile at Finn. “Hey you, how’s the Trooper Rehoming going?” He shrugged.

“There were a few we managed to trace back to their families but the majority have made their own settlement out on Yavin 4. You should come visit sometime.” He offered.

“I’d like that but…” your gaze flickered to Armitage. “Maybe it will be just me and Phasma….” You trailed off making a face. “Maybe not,” you chuckled.

“You would all be welcome,” he reassured you before heading over to sit with Rose. Your gaze drifted to Ben who seemed captivated by the fire, but you recognised the signs. The clenching of his fists, the tightness in his jaw, the vase on your mantelpiece fell and shattered drawing everyone’s attention. The fire flared behind you and you looked up to see Hux clutching Phasma to him and backing away slowly. Poe went to approach Ben as the very walls of your house began to shake matching the quivering of your insides but you threw out a silent hand to stop the pilot. You didn’t say Ben’s name, not wanting to startle him instead you crouched before him, placing a calming hand over his forearm and his hazel gaze swung to you.

“Come on, I need you to look at my X-Wing. I think it has a faulty fuel line, Armitage says the circuit breakers are burnt out but we aren’t mechanics.” You could hear the house settling as you pulled his attention away from his thoughts. You didn’t wait for an answer, taking Ben’s hand and shooting a look at Hux. He wasn’t happy, you could see it in his face and the set of his shoulders but you’d rather Ben put his mind to good use than accidentally destroying your house. He had to duck slightly through the low doorways as he followed you outside. Your feet didn’t falter, you’d travelled this path so many times in the dark when you couldn’t sleep. Every time you’d calmed Armitage from a nightmare you had come in here, just to tinker to take your mind off everything. Sometimes it worked, other times you came in here and cried, releasing your pent up emotion alone.

“Here,” you gestured to the hangar and stepped aside. “Wreck it, tinker with it, just don’t ruin the inside of my house, please.” He nodded, moving to touch your tools on the bench gently with his finger tips.

“You come in here often.” It wasn’t a question.

“It is my place to spend time on my own and process everything that happened,” you confessed knowing you couldn’t hide anything from him. “I am coping better than Armitage.”

“Are you though?” He asked bluntly and you blinked. You thought you were, dealing with Phasma kept you occupied during the day, you stayed up late most nights keeping an eye on Armitage so you didn’t have much thought space until you knew he was ok.

“Yes, I am keeping myself busy.” Ben smirked at your reply.

“Looking after two other people does not mean you are coping.”

“Yeah well, someone’s got to do it.” You turned and walked back to the cottage. The conversation was still flowing in the living area but you walked past to go to the kitchen and maybe prepare some food. Armitage appeared within moments, he tried to hide his displeasure but you could read him like a book.

“How’s Phasma?” You asked.

“Asleep on Mitaka.” He replied and you nodded, opening the cupboards trying to find your guests something to eat but you didn’t realise your hands were shaking until Hux gently slid his over yours. “It’s ok,” he whispered, coming up behind you. “He will be gone soon.”

“I really wanted to be ok with him, I just want to be ok.” You looked up as Mitaka appeared at the kitchen door and you smiled at the way Phasma’s arms hung over his shoulder, her little face buried in his neck and he pointed to the stairs. “Just take her straight up, she’ll stay asleep when you lay her down.” He nodded and slowly made his way up the wooden steps. You quickly wiped your damp cheek but Poe then appeared and you felt Hux’s increasing frustration that he couldn’t comfort you in private.

“We’re going to head off in a bit, we need to drop Finn off at the settlement. Do you guys need anything? I need to swing this way on the back so I can grab some supplies?” You nodded enthusiastically, already rattling off a list, since the X-Wing refused to start, you were stuck with what you could find here and in the small local market.

“Ok wow, maybe I’ll get you some spare parts for that ship of yours, if you want I can bring BB8 next time?”

“No need.” Rumbled Ben as he stood in the doorway. “I fixed it, loose connection so it couldn’t connect to the engines.”

“Thank you Ben. Alright out go, too many massive men near my tiny kitchen,” you ushered them out, including Mitaka when he chose that moment to come down the stairs. Finn and Rose were already outside looking up at the stars as everyone filed out and the goodbyes started. Ben was last, enveloping you in a big hug with a quick knowing squeeze before he headed to the Falcon. Poe clapped Armitage on the shoulder promising he’d visit more often, Mitaka echoing his sentiment.

“Just be careful, all of you,” you called. They all waved as they disappeared up the ramp and you felt Armitage put his arm around your shoulders.

“As much as I disliked them all at one time, I’m glad they visited,” he said in a soft tone.

“I’m sorry, but seeing Ben slip like that….” You put a hand to your throat feeling the familiar constriction in your chest. “Just brought back memories,” you whispered.

“We’re all broken, one way or another.” You looked up at your husband. “But I wouldn’t want to try and repair myself with anyone else.”

“I love you Armitage.”

“And I love you and our quiet life and our daughter.” You leaned into him accepting the kiss before letting him lead you back inside the warmth of your cottage.

After all, war does not determine who is right. Only who is left.

#general hux x female reader #armitage hux x female reader #star wars fanfiction #echoes of the heart #kylo ren x female reader #armitage hux x you #general hux x you #my writing #mylifeisactuallyamess

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flowercrown-bard · 3 years

Text

To give without knowing (18/20)

Word count: 11k

read on AO3

previous / masterpost

Content warning: blood, injury, hallucinations

Just stay safe and alive.

Geralt’s sword hit the armour-like scales of the basilisk, barely leaving a scratch. The beast reared up, beating its mighty wings to get away from him. With a snarl, Geralt leaped towards the creature, clinging to one of its wings to prevent it from taking flight.

Without warning, the beast threw itself to the side, crushing Geralt against a tree. A snap cracked through the forest and a burning pain raced through Geralt’s already injured arm, like a dead tree getting struck by lightning.

I will.

All air was pushed out of him as the tail of the basilisk hit him again. Panting, he went to his knees. Stars danced before his eyes. His ears were ringing and he could feel blood dripping into his eyes.

With inhuman strength, Geralt thrust the injured hand towards the basilisk. His arm burned and he had to grit his teeth against the pain. Fire danced before his eyes. It was too bright, too hot. The wails of agony coming from the basilisk threatened to burst his ears.

His igni broke off, his arm falling limply to his side.

I’ll be back.

A look of desperation and fury entered the basilisk’s eyes; a promise of death.

The monster’s beak opened wide as it surged forward one last time. Geralt could barely make out its form. Blood clouded his vision and suddenly there was a sharp stench that burned his eyes.

His body shook with a cough as he inhaled the basilisk’s toxic breath, but he forced himself to remain standing.

I’ll be back.

He had promised Jaskier. It seemed that would be one promise he wouldn’t be able to keep.

No, he had to make it back. He had to tell Jaskier – everything. He couldn’t leave him. Not like this. Attached to his belt, he still had the wolf figure. He needed to bring it back to Jaskier. He had promised!

Geralt’s arm shook as he gripped his sword tighter. The weapon flashed silver as he swung it one final time, hitting its mark, just as another beating of the basilisk’s wings shoved Geralt and flung him back to the ground.

A horrible shriek pierced Geralt’s ears. The sound of something heavy hitting the ground. A death rattle.

Whose was it? The basilisk’s? Or Geralt’s? Perhaps it was both. He couldn’t tell. His mind was too fuzzy, his vision blurring at the edges. He fought to get back to his feet, leaning onto his sword for stability, but before he had fully gotten up, his knees buckled and he saw the world tilting sideways.

His arm where the basilisk’s claws had dug into his flesh and his bones had broken, flared up with searing pain when he hit the forest floor with a soft thunk that didn’t fit the severity of the situation. Almost mechanically, he turned onto his back, trying to block out the stench of the basilisk’s toxic breath surrounding him. If he was lucky, the wind would soon disperse it and spare anyone else from being affected by it. If anyone were to come here, that was.

Clenching his jaw and blinking to clear his vision, he inspected his arm.

Try as he might, he couldn’t see the wound. It was all…so blurry. The colours blended together and swam before his eyes. His blinking became more furious, fighting to keep his eyelids from dropping, but his body wouldn’t obey him.

He grimaced at the pulsating pain, but ignored it, lifting his hand until it found the little pouch bound to his belt and his fingers could close around the thing in there. The wooden wolf. The thing that had been meant to protect him. The beloved figure that he was supposed to bring back to Jaskier.

He had promised he’d bring Winter back.

Winter. The name had never felt more fitting. Geralt’s clothes were drenched in mud and water from when the basilisk had flung him into a small lake earlier.

Now, the bitter autumn winds blowing against his wet clothes made him freeze and shiver.

Jaskier would still be at camp. Would the fire Geralt had lit for him before he had left still be giving him warmth? Or had it already been reduced to ambers? If Jaskier was smart, he would leave. He would get out of this damned forest and find the next town, some place where he would be warm and safe and didn’t have to wait for witchers who wouldn’t come back to him.

Geralt had to come back to him!

He rolled back onto his stomach and tried to push himself onto his knees. He crumbled almost immediately, landing face first in the mud.

The mud splashed up, covering his hair until it was almost fully brown. For a blissful moment he could imagine that he had never become a witcher, that he had kept his brown curls and that maybe, had he still met Jaskier somehow, he could have been someone who was good enough for him, who could love him without suffocating on the knowledge that it could never be returned.

He squeezed his eyes, fighting to banish the thought. He couldn’t let himself imagine. But…his mind was so heavy. And that dream was so beautiful.

If he were someone else, if he had never been a witcher, Geralt could have held Jaskier’s hand without fearing that his touch would make other people sneer at the two of them in disdain. If he still were who he had been before the trials, he could be bright, happy and beautiful like Jaskier. He could be perfect for him. He could be loved by him.

A strange sound that didn’t belong in this forest stole into his impossible dream. It was beautiful, soft and melodious.

Geralt blinked, forcing his eyes open. And there he was. Jaskier, walking towards him with a smile on his lips and his lute in hand.

Instinctively, Geralt found himself reaching towards him, but his body was too heavy, his limps refusing to obey.

“J’skier…”

As if he hadn’t heard Geralt’s contorted plea, Jaskier kept smiling. Geralt’s blood turned cold.

Something was off about the vision. Geralt’s wound throbbed and he could feel the poison sluggishly make its way through his body with every slow beat of his heart.

Jaskier wouldn’t smile if he were here. He wouldn’t sit down next to Geralt and lean against him as if he had no care in the world. He wouldn’t still be playing the lute.

And yet Geralt couldn’t bring his mind to force the hallucination to go away. He knew what it was, this wasn’t the first time he had been poisoned after all, but he didn’t want to fight it. With his potion bag out of reach and a body that wouldn’t move, he could do nothing but lay here and wait for the end. His heartbeat was too slow to grant him a quick death from the toxin. Getting lost in the hallucination, even if only for a little while, would be a mercy.

It would probably take hours until the venom would make his heart stop. He still had time. He could fight the toxin later. Later, when he wasn’t so damn tired. When he could feel his fingers again. When Jaskier wasn’t looking at him so fondly anymore.

For now, Geralt followed Jaskier’s siren call, basking in this fake Jaskier’s presence, his smile, the soft touch of his shoulder against Geralt’s.

Jaskier’s fingers moved over the frets of his lute and he started humming in harmony to the song. Geralt’s heart clenched when he recognised it. It was one of those about Jaskier’s love.

Why did Geralt’s mind have to torture him like this even now that he lay in the mud, bleeding, freezing and alone? He would have given anything to have Jaskier near him right now, but hearing this song, knowing that there was someone out there who could look at Jaskier the way Geralt wanted to… it hurt. Worse than his injuries. Almost as much as knowing that he would leave Jaskier alone if he died.

“Stop,” he croaked out, his tongue feeling heavy like lead in his mouth. “Don’t…not that song.”

Abruptly the song cut off. The sudden silence was somehow even worse than the torturous song. Still Jaskier was smiling. That sweet, unreal smile that pierced Geralt’s chest and made him long for more.

“Don’t you like it?” Jaskier asked and Geralt couldn’t answer. His lips wouldn’t move, his body wasn’t his to command anymore. “I wrote it for you.”

Jaskier played a couple more chords, tugging at the strings of his lute as he did on Geralt’s heart. He stopped again, but this time the last note echoed through the forest, through Geralt’s mind, through his bones.

With a gentle hand, Jaskier reached out and brushed a strand of hair out of Geralt’s face.

It was brown and curly. Human.

“You’re beautiful,” Jaskier said softly and bent down to press a kiss against his forehead, his fingers not faltering as they kept playing with his hair. “You have the most stunning brown eyes. So gentle. So happy. So-“

“Human.”

“Yes.” Jaskier’s own eyes crinkled at the sides. “Human. All I’ve ever wanted you to be. Now, like this, we can be together, Geralt. With you normal and beautiful, we can be happy.”

Geralt leaned into Jaskier’s touch. His heart threatened to burst out of his chest, needing to get closer to the man who already held it in his palms. And yet, something cold pressed down on his chest.

“I can’t. I’m not-“

“Don’t you want to be happy?” Jaskier asked, his fingers wandering down over Geralt’s face, tracing his cheekbones, his jaw, his lips. “Don’t you want me to be happy? I could be happy with you.”

Geralt wanted. He wanted. Him, this promise he was making. This future he was promising. He wanted to believe he was the person in the song. That now as a human, Jaskier saw him differently.

“I do,” Geralt said weakly. “I want to be your happiness.”

“You are. My beautiful Geralt. You finally are.” He pressed a hand against Geralt’s chest, right above his heart. Geralt could feel it beat faster at the touch. Nearly as fast as a human heart. Fast enough to kill him quicker. It would be worth it, if he died because Jaskier was looking at him with all the love that Geralt had never dared to ask of him before. He would die like this for Jaskier, with a human heart beating just for him.

No. He – he couldn’t! He had to survive, to get back to the real Jaskier. He needed to slow his heart down again, needed to become a witcher again. He had to give up being what Jaskier wanted to become again what he needed.

That, more than anything made his eyes burn. With more strength than ever before, Geralt took a deep rattling breath and calmed his heart. With every beat that came slower, Jaskier’s face became colder until it was nothing more than a stony mask of disgust.

“Witcher!” he spat, but didn’t take his hands off Geralt. Instead he pressed down harder, his hand going through Geralt’s chest and crushing his heart.

A gasp escaped Geralt. He watched in horror, as the scar on Jaskier’s forehead contorted. The delicate silver line became bigger, darker, like a crack through a rock, like lightning, like…like the veins on a witcher’s face when he was his most monstrous.

Jaskier’s eyes turned dark, an endless abyss with no feeling or warmth. An icy chill ran down Geralt’s body and he wanted to flinch back. Danger!, his mind screamed. Monster! Witcher!

Witchers took small boys and twisted them into something ugly and grotesque. Geralt didn’t want to be taken away! He wanted to go back to where he had been just a moment before. In Jaskier’s loving arms. He didn’t want to be turned into something twisted. He wanted to stay! Stay! Stay! He wanted to stay someone who…who could be loved. He wanted to be Jaskier’s. And this, he couldn’t be while he was a witcher.

“Please stop,” Geralt begged and through some miracle, Jaskier did. His face smoothed over. All cracks and spidery lines disappeared and his eyes turned back to that endless blue.

Somehow it didn’t make the eerie feeling go away. This Jaskier’s skin was too smooth. Too perfect. There was no scar on his forehead, no grime from the road smeared across his skin, no freckles from the sun around his nose and no laugh lines around his eyes. This was a Jaskier that had never met Geralt. Or one that had been left and broken by Geralt, and had filled all the cracks Geralt had left, with mortar and put on a porcelain mask.

“Jaskier…”

“Why did you leave me, Geralt?” Jaskier said, his tone inhumanly even and his voice so thin that Geralt thought it would break if he spoke another word. “I waited for you. Why could you not stay?”

I want to stay, Geralt wanted to shout, but his tongue didn’t obey him. I want to stay more than anything.

He wanted to lift his arms and cup Jaskier’s cheek, but it was too heavy, with too much pain racing through his muscles. Too much poison.

This wasn’t real. The real Jaskier was still somewhere out there, still waiting for him to return –

“Won’t you stay with me now? You could unmake me and make me anew. You could make me into who I was before I became this. You could make me real,” Jaskier whispered, but his words were loud as drums in Geralt’s mind. Jaskier leaned closer until their lips almost touched. “Please stay.”

His words were sweet as honey, venomous like a snake’s bite.

The trees behind Jaskier began to move in a breeze. No, not a breeze. The branched moved all on their own, winding in on themselves, hissing, darting out and baring their fangs. Snakes. Every branch above them; a million venomous snakes.

Venom. It was burning in his blood, in his wounds, in his lungs. He had to breathe, he had to take his potions, he had to survive so he could get back to Jaskier!

Jaskier was right here, giving Geralt a look softer than Geralt had ever dared to dream of. He wasn’t bothered by the snakes, didn’t even seem to notice them. He only had eyes for Geralt. He was right here and he was safe and he had begged Geralt to stay with him.

Why shouldn’t he just stay with him? It was all he ever wanted.

Geralt let out a choked noise and slowly nodded, earning himself an radiant smile

Geralt had to squeeze his eyes shut against it. It was so bright, too bright. It was like the sun, bright, blinding, burning!

But it was Jaskier’s. Geralt had to look. When he forced his eyes open again, that unbearable brightness was replaced by a shadow. A shadow stalking through the trees right behind Jaskier. A bear, bigger than any normal one and with cracks littering its body.

Jaskier didn’t seem to mind when the bear crumbled to pieces. Neither did he mind the feathers sprouting from his own skin.

“Why are you doing this to yourself, Geralt?”

Because of you. Because I love you and I need you to be safe and happy.

Piercing yellow eyes appeared between the trees. Yellow eyes, like a witcher’s eyes. Like Geralt’s. Because he was a witcher, no matter what this hallucination wanted him to believe. He didn’t want those eyes, didn’t want to be what he was. He wanted to be so much more, so much better. He wanted to be Jaskier’s.

“You can be,” Jaskier said gently, his fingers tracing his lips. “And I can be yours. I want to be. Please Geralt, let me be yours. Just stay with me. Just tell me –“

The gleaming eyes came closer. Where were Geralt’s swords? He’d have swords, hadn’t he?

The shadowy silhouette became clearer with every step the creature took towards him. It was a wolf, enormous, dangerous and terrible.

“Jaskier- “ Geralt rasped. “I need to…safe. You…safe…”

“Geralt?” There was something strange to Jaskier’s voice. Something urgent that didn’t fit his smile. And for some reason, his voice came from somewhere else, from the wolf.

This wasn’t real. There was no wolf and no bear and no Jaskier.

He needed to go back!

“Jaskier…need to find…Jaskier…”

He turned to his side with a groan, only to find that Jaskier was gone. In his place sat a bird. Geralt reached out for it but his arm wouldn’t move. The bird cocked his head to the side the same way Jaskier sometimes did when he regarded Geralt. It opened its beak and a song unlike any bird’s left it. It sounded like lute strings and heartbreak. It sounded like the song Geralt wished could be about him.

The bird hopped closer to him, fluttering its tiny wings. It looked happy and excited to come closer to Geralt. His fingers twitched and with all his might he lifted his hand again. The bird landed in his palm and the second it touched his skin, it let out a piercing scream that sounded like snapping wood. Its wings broke, shattered, fell to the ground and the bird splintered until Geralt held nothing in his hands but blood that turned to dust and feathers that looked like pieces of wood.

A tremble overcame Geralt and his hand formed a fist, expecting to feel the shattered pieces of Jaskier dig into his skin. Instead they closed around something solid. The wolf figure. The one Jaskier had given him for protection. The one he was supposed to bring back, back, back!

Geralt tried to push himself up once more, the fingers of his one hand still clutched around the wooden figure. The smooth wood the only thing he knew for sure was real.

The wolf let out a cry that sounded all too human, before it leaped. Geralt’s breath was pushed out of him when its paws landed on his shoulders, nailing him to the ground. Geralt tried to trash in the grip, to struggle to –

“Get back …to Jaskier.”

“I’m here.” A broken sob. His hallucination Jaskier hadn’t sobbed. He had smiled and sung and loved Geralt. Why was there a sob? “Geralt, I’m here. I – wait.”

Something burning was poured over his arm. His entire body convulsed, went up in flames. There was only white hot agony inside him, cold blackness in front of his eyes.

He blinked, fought against the pain that was dragging him under. The trials! He was going through the trials again! Strapped to a table, injected with toxins that would change his body and life forever. Maybe it would take his life instead this time.

Then there was no more darkness, no more shadow wolf. Only Jaskier. Not the smiling Jaskier from before, nor the porcelain or stone one, but one with tear tracks running down his face, clutching Geralt’s shoulder with one hand and forcing a bottle of something foul smelling against his lips.

“You promised!” he whispered. “You promised you’d bring the wolf back to me. You promised you’d survive.”

The burning liquid made it past his lips, running down his throat and searing everything in its wake. The world was aflame and Jaskier was standing right in the middle it.

A grunt left Geralt’s lips as he tried to push himself up again. “Have to find…”

“I’m here.”

Cool hands touched Geralt��s face, cupping his cheeks and forcing him to look up into the sky. No, not the sky. That blue belonged to something else. Something infinitely more beautiful.

He wanted to touch, to capture that blue, to get lost in it. To lean in and –

A tremble shook his body. The world was aflame and it was freezing. Geralt’s clothes clung to his body like ice.

That blue pulled away. That painfully gentle touch left him.

“No,” he croaked. “Come back!”

“I’m right here,” Jaskier said softly, but he was lying. He wasn’t touching him anymore and Geralt had told him to wait for him at camp. Jaskier must still be waiting for him.

Something draped over him, strangling him! No, not strangling. It was soft and warm. Jaskier tucked it around him. So it must be good.

Geralt inhaled long and deep. The smell of parchment, smoke and the faint burn of fingers that had played the lute for too long. It smelled like Jaskier.

If…if this was his - his cloak, his blanket- then Jaskier must be cold. He shouldn’t give Geralt his warmth! Geralt was the one who should protect Jaskier, make him happy, keep him warm.

He had to give some of his warmth back.

With strength he hadn’t known he possessed, Geralt lifted his arms. Jaskier let out a surprised yelp when Geralt took hold of his shoulders and pulled him against his chest, his arms encircling Jaskier, keeping him close, warm, safe.

“G-Geralt?” Jaskier asked. He sounded scared. Why did he sound scared? He was safe.

“’s fine,” Geralt said, nuzzling into Jaskier’s neck. Home.

He could feel Jaskier gulp and wanted nothing more than to press a kiss against the hollow of his throat. For a blissful second – or was it hours? Days? A lifetime? – Jaskier relaxed and leaned into the touch, his own hands stroking through Geralt’s hair. Geralt couldn’t see what colour his hair was.

It was the most wonderful moment Geralt could imagine. Which meant it couldn’t be real. Jaskier didn’t hold him close like that, didn’t let Geralt hold him. Unless it was cold in the night and he needed Geralt’s arms around him. They had held each other before in the day too, but not like this. Not with Jaskier practically laying across Geralt’s chest.

It was too good to be true. And if it wasn’t true, that meant that Jaskier would never know. He wouldn’t push him away or look at him in disgust. If this was still the poison showing him visions, Geralt might as well make the best of it. He could at least let himself believe that he wasn’t dying alone. If his last thought was a false belief that Jaskier could love him, then he would die happily.

He tilted his head, just enough to press a small kiss against Jaskier’s throat.

Jaskier let out a choked out noise.

“Geralt,” he pleaded. Pleaded for what?

Geralt’s hands wandered to Jaskier’s face, traced his cheekbones, felt the tear tracks on them. He leaned forward and kissed the tears away.

“Beautiful,” he whispered against Jaskier’s skin, feeling him shiver beneath him. “Too beautiful for me.”

He pressed another kiss against Jaskier’s skin, this one closer to his lips.

Abruptly, Jaskier pulled back. “No, Geralt stop!” His chest was heaving and his voice shook. “You can’t…you’re not yourself. You don’t…I can’t take this from you.”

Take what? There was nothing Jaskier could take that Geralt wouldn’t gladly give him. He would give him everything. Anything he asked for.

Jaskier had asked for trust. For the truth.

Geralt’s mouth went dry. He had to give it to him. Now.

“Jask,” he began, his tongue moving sluggishly. “I need to…the carvings…the wolf...I –“

“Shhh,” Jaskier’s blurry silhouette moved and Geralt felt something touch the hand in which he still was clutching the wolf. “I know you kept it safe. But we have to keep you safe too, alright?”

“But I…I need to tell you-“

“Don’t.” Jaskier sounded so agonised, as if cutting Geralt off caused him physical pain. “Don’t do that to yourself.” Quieter, he added, “Don’t do that to me. You don’t know what you’re saying. You can’t stop yourself.”

Geralt didn’t want to stop himself. He wanted Jaskier to know. He needed Jaskier to know.

Jaskier moved again, his motions too fast for Geralt’s eyes to follow. “I’ll have to get Roach, so we can get you to safety, alright?”

Geralt nodded sluggishly. Jaskier asked for it, so it was alright. But then he pulled away and Geralt’s insides turned to ice.

“Jaskier!”

“I’m sorry.” Jaskier’s voice broke and he tucked the cloak tighter around Geralt. “I’ll come back for you. Wait for me.” He hesitated. One beautiful long moment in which Geralt was so sure Jaskier would stay with him. They could be together until the end of time, with no secrets and no doubts. “I love you, Geralt.”

The last words were spoken so quietly that Geralt wasn’t sure he had truly said them. He blinked – and Jaskier was gone. He was alone again.

“Jaskier!” He called out for him weakly. It was impossible to tell if the name had ever even left his lips. In Geralt’s head, it was roaring like thunder. Just that name, repeating over and over until there was nothing else to think about. Nothing was as important as that name.

He blinked again. Strange shapes moved around him. Colours, movements, laughter and song. It was disorienting. Geralt wanted to follow, but he couldn’t get up. All he could do was lie there and hope Jaskier would come back for him.

As the edges of his vision became black once again and his eyelids became too heavy to keep them open, Geralt wondered if Jaskier had ever even been here.

He was flying. There was wind in his face and in his hair. He was a bird and he was flying, flying, flying.

He slumped forward, falling against something warm and soft. Hair tickled his face and it smelled like home.

The rhythmic motion beneath him didn’t falter, but the thing he was leaning against jolted.

“Hang on, Geralt,” a familiar voice said. “We’re close. The town is just an hour away. You’re going to make it. I promise.”

Geralt nodded against the person’s shoulder.

“I know,” he mumbled into their skin. “I trust you.”

He closed his eyes again. He didn’t have to worry. He was safe with this person.

He was warm. So warm. The bed beneath him was soft and more comfortable than it should have been. Hadn’t he been in a forest?

Geralt’s brows drew together, even as he kept his eyes closed to bask in this comfort for a little while longer.

He was so sure he had slept on a cold forest floor the last couple of nights. Hadn’t he been worried about it getting too cold for Jaskier?

Jaskier!

His eyes snapped open and he shot upright. A dull hammering in his head made him wince, but he ignored it. Wherever Geralt was, he shouldn’t be here. He should be at camp where he had left Jaskier. He had promised. Jaskier trusted him to come back and Geralt couldn’t break that trust.

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up.

Dark spots danced before his eyes, but he gritted his teeth and pushed through. He could worry about himself later. For now, the only important thing was that he found Jaskier.

He took a step forward and blinding light fell through a window right in his eyes. He squeezed them shut and turned away.

It was so bright. Hadn’t it already been close to dusk when Geralt had left Jaskier? How much time had passed?

His stomach churned, bitter bile and guilt rising in his throat. How long had Jaskier waited for him? Was he even still waiting or had he given up on Geralt?

It wouldn’t be the worst thing, if he had, a treacherous voice in his head whispered. If he left, that means that he has finally realised that you aren’t good enough for him. He has finally seen reason and is going to be happier for it.

No. He couldn’t listen to those poisonous words. He had tried so hard to make Jaskier feel seen. If he had lost his trust in Geralt that meant that Jaskier didn’t believe himself worthy enough that anyone would come back to him again, even if it was just someone like Geralt. He couldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t let Jaskier doubt his worth.

He staggered forward, determined to get out of here as fast as possible, but almost immediately his knees buckled.

He wanted to catch his falls with his hands, but something restrained one of his arms and he landed with a heavy thud on the floor.

A muffled curse came from behind a door and steps hastened closer. Geralt tensed and tried to get the bandage that kept his arm in place away so he could fight should he need to.

The door opened and Geralt froze.

“Jaskier?”

There he stood, dark bags under his wide eyes and his hair tussled as if he had constantly run his hands through it. But he smelled of parchment, a hint of smoke and wood shavings. Of comfort and home.

“You’re awake!” His whole face lit up and he ran towards Geralt, falling to his knees beside him. “Are you hurt?”

Geralt let out a dismissive grunt.

“Oh no,” Jaskier scolded and jabbed a finger at his chest. “None of that. I need you to truthfully tell me if you’ve hurt yourself any worse. I didn’t just spend two days sitting by your bedside just for you to hurt yourself again right away.”

Geralt’s breath hitched. “Two days?” His eyes darted between Jaskier’s. “And you stayed?”

Jaskier huffed in indignation. At first he didn’t answer. He avoided Geralt’s gaze by grabbing him under the arms and coaxing him to stand up again so he could sit down on the bed instead of lying on the hard floor in a pathetic heap.

“Of course I stayed,” he finally said as if there had never been a realistic alternative to that. He sat down next to Geralt, close enough for their thighs to be nearly touching. He cracked a weak smile. “I guess that means we’re even know. I distinctly remember you taking care of me when I fell of that cliff.”

“You weren’t out for two days.”

Not that it mattered. Geralt couldn’t count all the times Jaskier had patched him up after a hunt or when Geralt had gotten Jaskier out of danger. They both owed each other their lives many times over. And yet, Jaskier had never had to stay with him for so long when he was injured.

Jaskier shrugged. “Fine. Then you still me one more day of taking care of me.”

Geralt’s chest warmed at those words. They meant that Jaskier would stay with him.

“I will,” he promised, locking eyes with Jaskier. “But I’d rather you not get yourself hurt.”

Jaskier tensed and something like fear flickered over his face.

“I shouldn’t get myself hurt?” He let out a laugh that bordered on hysteric. “Geralt, do you have any idea how badly injured you were when I found you?”

Geralt blinked, doing his best to remember. One glance at the half-undone bandage around his arm and the throbbing pain in his muscles let him made an educated guess.

“Pretty badly?”

“Yeah, pretty badly!” Jaskier’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I think you were close to dying. When I found you, you were talking gibberish. I couldn’t understand much, but you sounded so helpless and you said some things that I-“ His voice broke. “I thought I would lose you.”

“I called your name.”

Geralt didn’t recall doing so, but this one was a certainty regardless. If he truly had been dying, or hallucinating, he knew he would have thought of Jaskier in his last moments.

His insides twisted uncomfortably at the thought of what else he might have said. If he had confessed…if he had told Jaskier he loved him… No. Surely, Jaskier wouldn’t have stayed with him for two days if he knew. He would have brought Geralt to safety, but then he would have left, surely.

Geralt narrowed his eyes at Jaskier, trying to find any hint of what might have transpired, but Jaskier’s face was a mask, cracking and thin, but a mask nonetheless.

“Yes,” Jaskier whispered. “You called out for me. I don’t know for how long. I…you told me to stay away, so I tried. I really tried. But you were gone for hours and I still stayed where I was. If I had known – I knew you needed me but I stayed away because I had promised you and you said – I stayed away and you got hurt.”

Geralt jerked at that, looking at Jaskier sharply, but taking his hand as gently as he could.

“Don’t,” he said softly, caressing Jaskier’s knuckles with his thumb in a soothing motion. “You have nothing to blame yourself for. Remember when you said I shouldn’t blame myself for you falling off that cliff?”

“Well, yes,” A bitter line formed between Jaskier’s brows. “But I should have –“

“No. If you had been there, you would have gotten hurt. The toxin would have been worse for you. I’d rather suffer hallucinations than you getting hurt.”

Than Jaskier dying. He didn’t say it out loud, but they both knew that was what Geralt had meant. If Jaskier had been there when the basilisk had breathed its toxic breath, or if he had found Geralt before the wind had dispersed it, he would have been long dead by now.

Jaskier turned slightly to Geralt, his fingers clenching into the hem of his shirt. His other hand came up to rub own wrist, rotating it slowly and grimacing at the motion.

Geralt’s heart dropped. “Jaskier.” He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Jaskier’s wrist. It didn’t look red or swollen, but there was no doubt he was in pain and two days might have been enough for any outward sign of violence to have vanished. Geralt swallowed thickly, his throat restricting more and more with each second that Jaskier rubbed his wrist in a subconscious looking gesture, as if that motion had become a habit over the past days. “Jaskier, did I hurt you?”

“What?” Jaskier blinked and the rotating of his wrist stopped.

“When I was hallucinating, did I attack you? Grab your wrist or…or….” Held him too tightly. Kissed him when he didn’t want to be kissed. There had been tears, salt beneath his lips. Had it been real? Had Jaskier even been there while he had been able to move enough to do such things? There was no way of telling.

Jaskier’s eyes widened and they darted from Geralt’s face to his wrists.

“No!” He almost shouted. “You didn’t hurt me.”

“Then what-“

“Don’t worry about it. You didn’t hurt me, that’s the important thing. I know you never would.”

Except for when he wasn’t quick enough to protect Jaskier from stones meant for Geralt. When he was the reason Jaskier staggered backwards and fell off a cliff. When he lied to him and made him think that he wasn’t valued. And Geralt would hurt him again when he finally found the courage to tell him the truth about the woodcarvings and shatter Jaskier’s heart with disappointment.

“If you don’t remember what you did,” Jaskier said slowly, “Do you…do you remember anything I said to you?”

Geralt wrecked his brain. Vague memories of Jaskier blurred into existence. Jaskier smiling and playing the lute. A wolf pinning him to the ground and turning into Jaskier. Jaskier telling him he loved him.

Geralt’s throat went tight as he latched onto that last memory. What a merciful hallucination it would have been if he had died. How cruel it was now that he was still alive and knowing it hadn’t been real.

“No,” he said thickly. “I don’t remember anything.”

“Oh, good.” Jaskier let out a sigh of relief and sagged against Geralt. “That’s probably for the best. I- your hallucinations probably weren’t very pleasant.”

Geralt hummed noncommittally. His heart clenched thinking back to those sweet words his fake-Jaskier had spoken to him and the way he had touched him.

“I prefer the real you,” he said, surprising himself with how much he meant it. Yet, it was true. No hallucination that granted Geralt exactly what he yearned for could ever compare to being with the real Jaskier, even though his heart ached and his fingers longed to touch. It was worth it, if it meant that Jaskier was real, that he still chose to be with Geralt despite everything.

“The real me?” Jaskier looked up at him with wide eyes. “You mean you saw me in your hallucinations?”

When Geralt nodded, Jaskier blanched and drew away. The space where they had touched before was already feeling cold and Geralt wanted nothing more than to lean back in.

“Did I – so you do remember something.” A look of heartbreak flashed across his face. “Geralt, please tell me if that hallucination me said or did anything to hurt you. I don’t – I swear, whatever it was, it isn’t how I really feel.”

Geralt couldn’t repress his flinch. “I know.”

“Good. Good.” Jaskier’s hands twisted together. “We’re friends, right? I would never hurt you. I don’t want to lose you.”

A smile tugged at the corners of Geralt’s lips. Jaskier’s words gave him the courage he hadn’t known he had lacked, and he scooted closer, putting his free arm around Jaskier and pulling him into a one-armed hug.

Jaskier flung himself at him and buried his head in Geralt’s chest. He was so impossibly close. For a heartbeat, Geralt thought he was somewhere else, that he was lying on the frozen forest floor with Jaskier in his arms and able to press a kiss against his throat. He wished he could do it now, but all he did was tighten his arm around Jaskier.

“We’re friends,” he mumbled in Jaskier’s hair, half to soothe Jaskier’s guilt and worry and half to remind himself of what he had to lose if he did something foolish like kiss Jaskier. His own words hurt as much as they elevated Geralt. Holding Jaskier like this made it all worth it, even if nothing more would come of it. If all Jaskier would want him to give him was friendship and comfort, then that was already more than Geralt had thought possible for a long time. If this was all it would ever be, then Geralt could count himself lucky.

“You won’t lose me,” Geralt said and stroked Jaskier’s back lightly in the way that always calmed Jaskier when he was distressed enough to seek out Geralt’s touch. “Not to a basilisk and not to anything else.”

He could feel Jaskier smile against his chest. “You’re not going to lose me either.”

Jaskier lifted his head just enough to look up at Geralt through his lashes. The sight took Geralt’s breath away. He moved his hand to smooth the fringe out of his forehead so he could better see his eyes. The scar that was silver and human and there because Jaskier didn’t care that Geralt was a witcher, even if he couldn’t love him. Geralt could get drunk on just having Jaskier near him like this.

Geralt lifted his other arm to pull him even closer and hissed as unexpected pain shot through him.

“Geralt?” Jaskier sat up in alarm. “Did I-“

“No. No it’s my own fault. I forgot about the arm.”

Evidently that did nothing to calm Jaskier, for his expression became focussed.

“Let me look at it.” Without waiting for Geralt’s response – not that he would have refused Jaskier’s care – he took hold of Geralt’s injured arm and carefully unwrapped the bandage. “I should have done that when I came in but I was so distracted by you being awake that I –“

“Hey,” Geralt interrupted him gently and took Jaskier’s chin in his free hand, making him look up. “Don’t worry. I’d much rather have you hold me in your arms than you having to worry about me.”

He froze. He hadn’t meant to say that last part. It was too much, too close to the truth.

But Jaskier only huffed. “You’re not getting out of me fussing over you by saying some sweet words. I can worry and take care of you. I’ll have you know that I am excellent at multitasking.”

“Of course you are.” Geralt rolled his eyes but didn’t even attempt to keep the fondness out of his voice.

Ever so gently, Jaskier prodded at the skin around Geralt’s wound. Geralt winced. It should have healed fully by now, but the toxin in his bloodstream had given it an ugly purple colour that was still visible around the edges, even though the bone was thankfully set again.

“Don’t worry,” he said when Jaskier pulled his lip between his teeth. “It’ll go away. It’s just the venom that made it look like that.”

Jaskier gave him a strange look. “That’s not as reassuring as you think it is.”

He stood up again, making Geralt miss his touch as soon as it was taken from him. Determined, Jaskier strode across the room and rummaged through a bag Geralt hadn’t seen before. It was the bag containing his potions and other medical supplies.

A sigh of relief heaved his chest. A smile stretched his lips when Jaskier found the right potion and salve almost immediately and came back to him.

With tender motions, Jaskier rubbed the salve into Geralt’s skin and then held up the bottle to his lips.

Geralt’s brows shot up, but he forced himself to let Jaskier tip back his head and pour some of the potion into his mouth. He could have done it himself easily and he was well aware that after two days of taking care of him, Jaskier must have just gotten used to doing things like this for him. Helping Geralt drink was nothing special to him, and yet it felt intimate in a way that made Geralt’s entire skin tingle. Jaskier had always taken comfort in being able to help Geralt. Sometimes Geralt got the impression that not being able to do anything was worse for Jaskier than doing something in an overcomplicated way.

So by all accounts, helping Geralt now should have calmed Jaskier, but when he pulled away again, his hands were shaking.

“You don’t have to worry about me,” Geralt repeated. “I am alive. Because of you.”

Jaskier gave him a crooked smile. “Does that mean you admit that you need me?”

It was clear that he was teasing Geralt, but there was something desperately hopeful in his voice.

“Do I need to need you?” Geralt asked, cursing his own tongue when Jaskier’s face fell. Hurriedly, he added, “I do. But I told you before, I don’t like having you around because you’re useful or because I need you. I would still be your friend if I didn’t need you.”

It wasn’t intended as a lie, but even while Geralt spoke the words, he knew they weren’t true. Not really. He couldn’t be Jaskier’s friend without needing him. Not when every fibre of his being needed to be close to Jaskier, to lean into his touch, to relish in his smiles, to drift closer to him when he sang.

It was true that Geralt would still like Jaskier if he never helped with coin, setting up camp or taking care of him again. But all of those things were Jaskier. Those were things that were important to him. For some reason that Geralt couldn’t begin to understand, helping him was important to Jaskier.

But even if it wasn’t, Geralt would still always need Jaskier.

Jaskier’s breath hitched and blinking rapidly, he turned away to put the potion bottle onto the nightstand. He took longer than he needed to to arrange the bottle and the salve, hiding his face away from Geralt, but he couldn’t hide the smell of salt that stung in Geralt’s nose.

“Jaskier?” He asked tentatively, hesitating just a moment, before settling his hand on Jaskier’s back and rubbing soothing circles into it once again. “I’m sorry. Did I say something wrong? I didn’t mean to –“

“No.” Jaskier turned back to him with a smile and eyes that were just a little too shiny. “The same goes back to you. I – you are important to me.”

Jaskier’s hand clenched and flexed against his own thigh, before he gathered the bandages he must have prepared without Geralt noticing and held his hand out for Geralt’s arm, which he placed in the familiar touch without hesitation.

“You know,” Geralt began when Jaskier turned his arm to get the right angle. “I don’t like having my arm in a sling.”

The idea alone of not being able to use one of his arms made his skin crawl. If it were just him, that would be alight, but if his fighting was hindered while Jaskier was with him, that would put his friend in danger as well.

Jaskier’s eyes blazed and he very pointedly kept rolling the bandage around his arm.

“Oh, I’m sorry that it makes you a little uncomfortable,” he teased. “But I’m not going to argue with you about this. I’m taking care of you in the way the healer I took you to told me and nothing less.”

Geralt grunted. “I don’t like it when people take care of my wounds either.” He hesitated. “It’s too…letting someone so close to your injuries, letting them know your weak points and being vulnerable around them…it’s dangerous.”

Jaskier froze mid-motion and his shoulders twitched, as if he wanted to jerk back. He kept his eyes trained on the bandage, but Geralt could see them flicker to the side, as if he wanted to look in Geralt’s face but didn’t dare to.

“Geralt,” he whispered in a voice more serious than Geralt had heard him use in a long time. “I would never hurt you. I’d rather get hurt myself than take advantage of you being vulnerable.”

“I know,” Geralt said, placing his free hand over Jaskier’s and guiding him to continue his work.

It wasn’t true. Jaskier had the ability to hurt him worse than any basilisk ever could. When Geralt had thought Jaskier might be dying, he had felt as if his own chest was ripped open. When Jaskier had first found one of his wooden figures, Geralt had been more afraid of him knowing that Geralt had been the one to carve them and mock him for it, than he had ever been afraid of facing a horde of ghouls. When Jaskier had started singing those sweet songs about the person he loved that Geralt could never even come close to, his heart had ached.

He believed Jaskier that he didn’t want to hurt him and would never do so maliciously, but that didn’t change that Jaskier hurt him nonetheless. Yet, it was an ache Geralt welcomed gladly, because it came from loving Jaskier and that made all the difference.

Geralt gave Jaskier’s hand a little squeeze. “That’s why you are the only one besides my brothers that I let patch me up. I don’t mind if it’s you doing it. I trust you.”

“Thank you.” Jaskier swallowed thickly and his lips trembled when they stretched into a smile. “I won’t disappoint you.”

“You never could.” The words left Geralt so quietly, that he wasn’t sure if Jaskier had heard them. If he had, he gave no sign of it.

Jaskier kept his eyes on the task as he reapplied the bandage and Geralt took the opportunity to watch him. The way his brow furrowed slightly in concentration. The way his tongue peaked out between his lips. The way his hands still trembled when he finished his task.

When he pulled his hands away, Geralt caught one of them with his free hand. Jaskier sucked in a sharp breath, but he didn’t speak. He just stared at Geralt with wide eyes as Geralt rubbed his thumb gently over his wrist, before turning it over.

Geralt’s heart skipped a beat. The palms of Jaskier’s hand held traces of an angry red and they were covered in blisters.

“What happened?” Geralt asked stunned, carefully caressing each of Jaskier’s fingers.

“Ah, nothing.”

Geralt pressed his lips into a thin line. They both knew it wasn’t nothing and Geralt had the sinking feeling that he knew exactly what had caused this.

Geralt had been out for two days and by the looks of the barren room, Jaskier hadn’t brought much of their belongings with him when he had gotten Geralt out of the woods. Only the bag with Geralt’s potions, his swords and his own lute. At least that was all Geralt could see in this room. No coin pouch. Geralt hadn’t gotten paid for the basilisk yet and they didn’t have the coin they had saved with them, which could only mean –

“How much did you have to play to earn enough to pay for this room and a healer?” Geralt asked thinly. Geralt looked closer at Jaskier. At the way his shoulders appeared tense, at how his eyes were sunken in. The bed they were sitting on suddenly felt smaller than before. Certainly too small for Jaskier to sleep in comfortably while Geralt was taking up almost all of the space. “Did you get any sleep?”

A faint red colour rose in Jaskier’s cheek. “Of course I got some sleep,” he said, but avoided Geralt’s eyes. “And don’t worry about the cost for the room. I have an arrangement with the innkeeper and you know that I won’t ever say no to a chance to perform.”

“You should,” Geralt said with a frown, caressing Jaskier’s palm once again, “if they make you play so much that you hurt yourself.”

This was exactly what Geralt had wanted to avoid. For weeks, he had done all he could to make sure Jaskier didn’t have to work too much, that he saw that Geralt liked taking care of him. Now, Geralt had become a burden to Jaskier. He had turned into the reason why Jaskier had worked himself into the ground.

With his free hand, Jaskier rubbed the back of his neck, wincing, when he must have put too much pressure on the blisters there. “Well, I had to keep myself distracted somehow and I felt like creating was a good way to do that. I don’t think I could have slept much while you were fighting the venom, anyway.”

“I’m not anymore.” Reluctantly, Geralt let go of Jaskier’s hand. “You should go to sleep. I’ll just take care of your hands first.”

Jaskier’s tongue darted out to wet his lips. “You don’t have to-“

“Jaskier,” Geralt said softly but with emphasis. “You took care of me for days. Let me make sure you’re not in pain yourself.”

“It’s not that bad,” Jaskier said quietly, but he didn’t try to stop Geralt when he walked over to the bag with the medical supplies and searched for an ointment he always carried with him, ever since he had first started woodcarving and had gotten blisters in places he usually didn’t. By now, his skin had gotten so used to the motions used for whittling that he didn’t get the blisters anymore, but he still made sure to always have some of that ointment with him, just in case.

“It doesn’t matter if it’s not that bad.” He sat back down and placed Jaskier’s hand on his thigh, palm up, so he could carefully rub some of the ointment onto the blisters. He had to forcibly resist pressing a small kiss on Jaskier’s sore hands as well. “You need your hands. And even if you didn’t need them for playing, I don’t like seeing you in pain. Any amount of it.”

Jaskier’s lips twitched. “The same goes for you.”

“Good thing I have you to take care of me then,” Geralt said with a small smile.

“Yeah. Good for me too.”

When Geralt was done and proclaimed that Jaskier’s hands should be alright soon, Jaskier gave him a look so soft that it took Geralt’s breath away and he barely put up any protest when Geralt told him to go to bed.

“It’s a bit small for two people,” Jaskier said apologetically, even while shrugging off his doublet. “Sorry, I didn’t exactly have the means to rent a bigger room and I was a little preoccupied and didn’t have a head for haggling.”

“It’s alright,” Geralt said, placing his hand on Jaskier’s shoulder and squeezing lightly. “We have shared before and it’s cold anyway.”

“You don’t mind?”

Geralt shrugged, aiming for nonchalance, while his heart was already racing at the thought of getting to hold Jaskier close again.

“It’s only practical, isn’t it? And it’s not really any different from when we laid like this before.”

Except, when they arranged themselves in the too small bed, it became apparent quickly, that it was definitely different. When they had slept close together in the woods, they had still had the space of two bedrolls. Even in most rooms they had rented, they had had a bed of an acceptable size for two people.

This bed, though, truly didn’t allow for two people to lie next to each other. Which meant that after some awkward minutes of arranging and rearranging, they finally settled with Jaskier practically lying on top of Geralt.

Their chests rose and fell together as they breathed and Geralt could feel Jaskier’s heart against his. Slowly, he lifted his uninjured arm and put it over Jaskier’s waist, holding onto him, partly to keep him from falling off in the night and partly because he couldn’t stop himself from wanting to be as close to Jaskier as he possibly could.

Jaskier snuggled into him, nuzzling at his neck and sighing contently in his sleep. His hair tickled Geralt’s nose, but he didn’t turn his face away.

Instead, Geralt breathed in deeply, inhaling the fainting scent of the soap Geralt had gifted to Jaskier a while back and that now must have been lost at camp together with most of Jaskier’s possession. The scent was mixed with the sweet smell of wood that was so often accompanied by Jaskier’s joy and excitement when he found one of Geralt’s carvings.

The carvings that still sat in a bag, which wasn’t in this room. Geralt’s stomach clenched and he tightened his hold on Jaskier.

In his rush to get Geralt to safety, he had abandoned the gifts that meant so much to him. A year worth of memories, of luck and inspiration – and unbeknownst to Jaskier - a year of silent confessions, of gratefulness and love. And he had left it behind to help Geralt.

Jaskier hadn’t mentioned it, not with a single word and somehow that made it worse. Had Jaskier been bemoaning the loss of the carvings, it would have seemed more normal for him. But if Jaskier kept silent about it, not wanting to share how he felt – or perhaps thinking Geralt would judge him for it because he might think he himself was more important than how Jaskier felt? – didn’t sit right with Geralt.

Something in Geralt’s chest twisted painfully, as his eyes fell onto the lonely figure that Jaskier had placed on the nightstand before going to sleep. A lone wolf, watching over them in the night.

The one figure Geralt had promised to bring back to Jaskier. The one that meant more to him than the others. It wasn’t enough. Jaskier should have had to give up something that was so important to him, for Geralt.

A quiet yet strong resolve hardened in Geralt’s chest.

He would get the other figures back to Jaskier. And when he did – when he gave them to Jaskier for a second time, this time doing so openly as Jaskier deserved – he would tell him. He would tell him that he had been the one who had given them to him the first time around too.

He nearly felt the eyes of the wolf figure boring into him as he gave himself that silent promise, before he too drifted off to sleep, with Jaskier held in his arms just as tightly as Jaskier was holding him, both of them needing to protect the other even in their sleep.

The cool draft coming in through the window together with the morning sun made Jaskier shiver and nestled closer against Geralt. His warm breath that caressed Geralt’s throat was a stark contrast to the cold of the room and made Geralt shiver.

“Geralt?” Jaskier mumbled against him sleepily.

“Hm?”

“’s cold.”

With a soft hum of agreement and a smile so soft that he was glad Jaskier couldn’t see it with his face buried in his neck, Geralt grabbed the blanket that had half fallen off them in the night and pulled it over Jaskier again, taking more time than necessary to tuck it around Jaskier and smooth it out over him.

Jaskier let out a content sigh. “Thank you, dear.”

“You could have done that yourself easily,” Geralt said without even a hint of heat.

“Yes, but I recall someone telling me that they were going to take care of me.” He lifted his head a little so he could look at Geralt and his eyes were twinkling with lazy mirth. “Having regrets yet?”

Geralt answered with an equally lazy grunt that could have meant anything. Jaskier rolled his eyes and let himself flop back onto Geralt’s chest.

“Wake me when it’s warmer,” Jaskier said and Geralt could feel the flutter of his eyelashes against his chest as he closed his eyes and went back to sleep.

Geralt had things to do. He should look after Roach and try to get pay for the basilisk, even though he didn’t have the trophy with him. He should also find out where their camp had been to get all their stuff back. He had to clean his swords, lest they rusted again.

There was so much to do. And yet, as Jaskier mumbled nonsense in his sleep and pressed against Geralt, seeking warmth, Geralt found that he didn’t mind spending a lazy morning in bed.

“You, Geralt of Rivia, are a liar.” Jaskier narrowed his eyes as they walked down the street to the alderman’s house. “A liar and a cad!”

Geralt’s brows rose in amusement and question. Jaskier lifted his chin haughtily.

“You said it was warmer and that I had to get out of bed.”

“It is warmer.”

Jaskier spluttered. “It’s very decidedly not!”

Geralt grunted in disagreement, though he too was inwardly cursing the weather that forced him to confront a truth that he had wanted to forget.

Down south at the coast, it had been so easy to pretend that it was still summer, but now, further up north, the brown leaves littering the forest floors and the people in the streets wearing woollen cloaks and hurrying to get to their destination instead of strolling along merrily, made it abundantly clear that summer had long since slipped through their fingers.

“No, don’t just grunt like that. I’m being serious. Here, look!” Jaskier lifted his hands and waved them in front of Geralt’s face. “Look at how red my fingers are from the cold. A few days more and I won’t be able to play my lute outside anymore.”

Something twinged in Geralt’s stomach. “You’re really that cold?”

Without thinking, he took Jaskier’s hands in his, gentle so as not to aggravate the blisters. They weren’t nearly as cold as Jaskier made them out to be, but they still trembled when Geralt ran a thumb over his knuckles. Geralt hesitated, before bringing his hands to his lips and blowing a warm breath onto them before rubbing them gently. He was glad for the umpteenth time that day, that Jaskier had deemed his arm healed enough that he didn’t need to wear it in a sling anymore, if only so he could hold Jaskier’s hands in both of his.

“Better?” He asked hoarsely.

“I-yes.” When Geralt nodded and made to pull away again, Jaskier held onto his hands. “Could you maybe…I mean, my hands are going to get cold again if you let go.”

Geralt didn’t reply. He didn’t think he’d be able to find the right words with how tight his throat suddenly was, but as they continued on, he kept holding on to one of Jaskier’s hands. His heart fluttered when Jaskier twisted his hand a little to thread their fingers together and when he risked a quick glance at Jaskier out of the corner of his eyes, Jaskier’s cheeks were flushed red, from where the wind bit into his skin.

“We should find you some warmer clothes,” Geralt said, realising a second too late, that he probably shouldn’t have included himself into that statement. “It’ll be winter soon.”

Jaskier cast his eyes down, staring intently at the pavement as he walked. “Don’t worry, Oxenfurt is never that cold in winter. At least they heat up the lecture halls now. That’s really an improvement. And I have quite the spectacular collection of cosy blankets at my place there.” He didn’t look up when his lips twisted into a small smile, but Geralt didn’t need to see his eyes to know his smile didn’t reach them. “And I suppose, we won’t travel together for much longer, will we? A couple more weeks at the most? I can go that little time without warmer clothes.”

He didn’t need to add that with their coin pouch left in the woods, they wouldn’t have the coin for that anyway, not if they wanted to continue sleeping in inns instead of in the woods where the wind would freeze them to the bone, even with their tent. Which they had also left behind.

Geralt’s stomach dropped. The weeks before winter, Jaskier was usually seized by an inexplicable melancholy and it would always be obvious that he wasn’t happy. In the past years, Geralt had done his best to accommodate him still, buy him mulled wine to warm him, make sure they stuck to towns in which Jaskier’s singing would be appreciated and taking contracts that would fill Geralt’s pockets enough that Jaskier wouldn’t have to worry about going hungry as it got colder. Now though, with most of their belongings gone, Geralt had no means of making these last weeks in any way comfortable for Jaskier. Even the cheap inn room Jaskier had gotten for them, was much smaller and less comfortable than Jaskier deserved.

A couple more weeks with Jaskier wasn’t enough. But he was right. It was getting close to the time they would normally split, when Geralt would make his way up to the Blue Mountains and Jaskier would try to find a merchant caravan he could join on the way to Oxenfurt. It wasn’t enough time.

And with how things were going, Geralt wouldn’t be able to fault Jaskier if he decided to cut their time short and leave as soon as possible. How long, until Jaskier realised that Geralt wasn’t able to provide for him and take care of him as he had promised - as he so desperately wanted to?

Throughout the year, ever since finding the carvings, Jaskier had insisted that he would stay with Geralt. “You won’t get rid of me at all this year until winter comes,” he had said. Geralt had forgotten just how quickly that would happen, how quickly he was about to lose Jaskier again.

And as every year, with that realisation came the dread and the sharp stab of fear through his chest that told him that maybe once they split, Jaskier would realise that he was much better off without Geralt. Once he was welcomed back by his friends – and possibly by the beloved he had been pining for for so long – at Oxenfurt, he would see that he shouldn’t go back to Geralt, that even Geralt’s most heartfelt attempts at showing him how much he meant to him, were pitiful compared to what other people could give him.

And yet, Jaskier had returned, every single year, like the sun who would always climb over the horizon, no matter how cold, long and lonely a night might have felt. Jaskier always left, but he also always came back.

Somewhere in the back of Geralt’s mind, Essi’s voice chimed in. Hadn’t she warned him against these kinds of fears? She had been so adamant about making Geralt see that they were unfounded – and that Jaskier shared them.

Geralt chanced a glance at Jaskier, whose brows were drawn together, even as he still wore that brittle smile on his face.

“I’ve never been to Oxenfurt,” Geralt began slowly. “Maybe I could come there in spring and you could show me around?”

Jaskier’s breath hitched and when he looked back up at Geralt, his eyes were full of dawning wonder. “You want to visit me?”

Geralt shrugged. Years of doubt and the need to hide away anything that could be used against him, screamed at him to stop talking, to take it back, to not let Jaskier know –

But he needed Jaskier to know. This one truth was branded into his heart; that Jaskier wouldn’t hurt him when he bared his throat to him. So Geralt kept talking.

“If you wanted me to. I’ve already met Essi and she was nice. I’m sure your other friends at Oxenfurt will be too.”

He bit his tongue. Had that been too much? Sure, Jaskier had introduced him to Essi, but it still could have been presumptuous of Geralt to assume Jaskier would want his other friends to meet him too.

He needn’t have worried. Jaskier’s lips stretched into the widest grin and his hand squeezed Geralt’s, as if he couldn’t contain all of his feelings.

“You’ll love them!” Jaskier promised and with a wink added, “Not all of them are bards, so there are some that won’t annoy you endlessly.”

Geralt’s brows furrowed. “Not all bards annoy me.”

Something soft and hopeful flickered across Jaskier’s face, before his grin widened. “Is that a challenge?”

Geralt’s lips twitched up. “I was there when Lambert was a teenager,” Geralt said in way of explaining.

Jaskier opened his mouth to say something, but then his eyes darted away and his lips pressed together tightly.

Geralt’s chest clenched at the sight.

“You know,” he said slowly, praying he wasn’t misreading Jaskier’s sudden hesitance. “I think the two of you would get along. I can ask him to meet up on the Path next year if you want to meet him.”

“Really?” Jaskier’s voice was as bright as his shining eyes. “You would do that?”

Geralt hummed in affirmation. “He’ll be a prick and say he won’t want to meet you, but he’s been making fun of me for being friends with you for years so he’ll definitely come.”

“Oh.” Jaskier swallowed audibly and he pulled his hand away from Geralt’s, leaving Geralt’s own hand cold and painfully empty.

“Jaskier? What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry. That he made fun of you because of me. I didn’t think…I had hoped being friends with me wasn’t a bad thing for you.”

Geralt’s insides went cold. Abruptly, he stopped in his steps, taking Jaskier’s shoulders in his hands and turning him to face him, so he could see the sincerity in his eyes.

“Jaskier, listen to me. Being your friend is the best thing that happened to me in my life. Lambert’s not…he doesn’t mean it like that.”

“No?”

“No.” Geralt gave Jaskier’s shoulders a reassuring squeeze.

“Then what does he mean?”

“He-“ Geralt’s word froze in his throat.

Years of teasing flashed through his mind. Lambert making fun of him for having made a friend that will ruin his reputation of being a lone wolf and a brooder. Lambert riling him up by claiming that Geralt smiled every time one of the other wolves mentioned his travel companion. Lambert nudging Geralt in the ribs while they had both been deep in their cups and saying that everybody knew that Jaskier was more than just a friend to him. It hadn’t been true then. Or perhaps it had been and Geralt just hadn’t known it yet. Now though, looking at Jaskier who had tilted his head to the side like a curious bird and leaning into his touch instead of flinching away, Geralt knew beyond the shadow of a doubt, that Lambert had been right.

Geralt swallowed thickly. “He’s teasing me, because you’ve proven me wrong,” he settled on finally. A half-truth, but still coming from deep within Geralt’s heart.

“Oh? How so?”

Geralt softened a little. “I always claimed I wanted nothing and needed no one.”

Jaskier’s lips parted in silent wonder.

Suddenly feeling awkward again, Geralt let go of Jaskier’s shoulders as if he had burned himself and took a step back. At least that was what he tried to do. He didn’t get very far.

Before he could so much as shift his weight backwards, Jaskier had stepped into his space and pulled him closer again.

Geralt stiffened as Jaskier’s arms encircled him, but after a moment, he melted into the embrace, returning it as tenderly as he could and pouring everything he felt into it.

“I’ll come to Oxenfurt to see you,” Geralt whispered into Jaskier’s hair, just to say it again. “And then we’ll travel again. I could show you Beauclair’s vineyards when the grapes are ripe. Or I could bring you to the valley of flowers again when it’s in full bloom. We- we could visit the coast again, if you’d like.”

Anything. Anything, as long as it made Jaskier happy and as long as they were going there together.

Jaskier didn’t reply, but he tightened his hug and that was reply enough.

---

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twomoonstwosuns · 3 years

Text

epilogue.

back to you [series masterlist]

previous post · bonus chapter

pairing: professor!poe dameron x reader

warning: mentions of sex, language

word count: 2.7k

a/n: we made it, this story is over! I’m having lots and lots of feelings, so I wrote a separate thing to express more of those. i hope the ending did not disappoint, and thank you for coming along on this ride with me.

~bonus chapters being added, links in the masterlist~

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5 Years Later

The first thing you heard when you opened the door was giggling.

The house was dark, the only light coming from the light above the oven. Even the jingling of Beebs’ collar was nowhere to be heard. Moonlight shown through the cracks of the blinds. The house was seemingly abandoned.

But you did hear giggling.

“Hello?” You called into the house, hearing nothing in return as you walked from the foyer to the kitchen. “Anyone home?”

You set the plastic bag you carried in on the counter and heard more giggling, this time closer to where you stood in the kitchen.

“Boo!”

Little hands grabbed your leg and made you jump, the high-pitched giggling returning as you put your hand over your racing heart and looked down at the culprit.

“I scared you, mommy!”

You laughed as you knelt down. The culprit had a big wide smile on her face. “Yes you did, but you’re not scary!” You said as you smoothed out her dress. “You’re the prettiest Tinkerbell I’ve ever seen!”

Addison Shara Dameron was an exact clone of you, apart from the chocolate brown eyes and dark curly hair that matched your husband’s. A surprise that came two years into your relationship, she was now nearly four years old and yours and Poe’s greatest joy in life. She was your mini me, your best friend, but she was a daddy’s girl at heart and Poe was just as in love with her as she was with him.

Addie kept you on your toes, a force to be reckoned with despite her young age. She loved to run and laugh and smile and have fun…and was becoming quite the little trickster. Which is why you knew, without a doubt, that while scaring you on Halloween was most definitely her father’s idea, she gave no hesitation to do it.

“Mommy, will you do my hair like Tinkerbell’s?”

“Of course I will, let’s go upstairs.” You stood back up and larger hands immediately grabbed your waist, making you scream. A deeper laugh sounded in your ear as Addie’s giggling resumed and lips pressed against your cheek. He squeezed your waist before letting go and you swatted his arm as he passed.

“I’m going to get you back for that.”

“Looking forward to it, sweetheart.” He called over his shoulder.

“Mommy, daddy wonts let me make my hair yellow like Tinkerbell.”

“I told you honey, your hair’s so dark that it wouldn’t show up and you said the wig was itchy.” She sighed loudly and you smiled as Poe turned on the kitchen light.

The first thing you saw when the light turned on was the sparkle of all the glitter on your daughter’s face and arms. The next thing you saw was Poe, clean-shaven and dressed as Peter Pan in a long green tunic and tight green tights that left nothing to the imagination. He sent you a wink when he saw you staring.

“Addie, why don’t you go upstairs and get your Tinkerbell slippers and mommy will be up in a minute.”

You watched her as she smiled and ran towards the staircase, the sound of her little feet tapping loudly on the hardwood floor bringing you so much happiness. Poe also watched her until she disappeared before looking back at you.

“This is supposed to be a family appropriate costume?” You gestured to his costume and eyed the tightness of the tights around his thighs.

“Not my fault you have a dirty imagination,” Poe smirked as he walked back over to you.

“Trust me, it won’t be just me. All the neighborhood moms are going to go crazy.”

Poe chuckled as he put his arms around your waist. “Well, lucky for them I only have eyes for one neighborhood mom.”

You mumbled a ‘yeah, you better’ as he leaned down and kissed you, a rumble of laughter coming from his chest.

“You need to go get into your Halloween costume,” he said as he pulled back.

“I know, I know, I’m running a little behind. My meeting went long and then I had to stop at the grocery store.”

“Why’d you stop at the store?”

You looked at the bag on the counter and smiled sheepishly. “We needed more candy…”

Poe cocked his eyebrow. “If I go into the pantry right now, is the bag of Halloween candy we bought for trick or treaters going to be open?”

You looked away and didn’t say anything.

“And are all the peanut butter cups going to be gone?” You bit back a smile and he laughed loudly at your guilty expression. “Babe!”

“I’m sorry!”

“No you’re not.”

“I’m really not, I was craving them so bad.”

He ran his hands along your waist, shaking his head in fake disapproval.

“Don’t give me that look, my need for peanut butter cups is partly your fault.”

Poe sighed heavily and you smiled as you leaned up and kissed his cheek.

“Yeah….yeah, fine.” You giggled as you kissed him, then several things happened at once. Addie reappeared in the kitchen, calling your name to go do your hair. The doorbell rang, which made Beebs start barking.

You gave Poe one more quick peck on the lips before following Addie up the stairs to her room while Poe went to get the door, eager trick-or-treaters barely containing their excitement for candy. You grabbed a couple things from the bathroom: her purple hairbrush, the de-tangler spray, and the cheap glittery hairspray that would make her hair hard as a rock but fairy-like for a few hours.

“Alright sweetheart, come here,” you said as you walked into her room and sat on her bed. Addie ran over to stand between your legs and you turned her around and started brushing through her hair.

You could now hear a new voice floating upstairs, loud and happy and familiar. Addie’s face lit up when she recognized it, too.

“Papa Kes!” She exclaimed, looking towards the door. You gently moved her head so she was looking forward again.

“I’m almost done and then you can go see him.”

“Papa’s gon’ be Captain Hook!”

“He is?!” You pulled her hair back tight and secured it with a ponytail, doubling over it with a green scrunchie and creating the bun. “Okay, turn around and close your eyes.”

Addie turned to face you and you shielded her eyes as she closed them and sprayed her hair with the glitter hairspray.

“I wants to see papa and daddy have a sword fight!”

You chuckled as you brushed some stray hairs back and sprayed them into place.

“Alright Tinkerbell, you’re all set!”

Addie ran out the door, shouting “Thanks, mommy!” as she does and “Papa!” as she made her way down the stairs. You set her stuff onto her dresser on your way out and passed the top of the staircase on the way to your room.

“Arghhhh, there be Tinkerbell!” You heard Kes say in his best pirate voice, Addie’s giggles floating up the stairs to where you were.

You quickly made your way into your bedroom and changed out of your work clothes and into the pale blue dress that would turn you into Wendy for the night. The weather was unseasonably warm for late October, which you were grateful for because Addie did not like the idea of wearing a coat or long sleeve shirt under her costume. Tying your hair back with a ribbon, you smoothed out your dress, your hands lingering over your stomach.

You grabbed your shoes and made your way downstairs, passing Beebs who had his harness on and was ready for a nice long walk. You followed the voices to the living room but paused when you saw a light on in Poe’s home office.

“Don’t tell me you’re grading papers,” you said as you walked in. He hummed and acknowledged your presence and glanced up from his desk.

“Oh, I’m not grading.”

You looked over his shoulder, wrapping your arms around his neck from behind.

“What are you doing?” You asked, seeing him fiddle with a hot glue gun.

“We had a wing issue,” he said, picking up a little silver jewel and nodding towards Addie’s Tinkerbell wings that laid across his desk. “A couple of these fell off. I told her they would if she kept playing on the playground with her wings on, but she insisted on breaking her wings in before Halloween.”

You giggled. “Well, you can’t ever say no to her, so you can’t be too surprised.”

“No, I really can’t.”

You smiled as you kissed his cheek. “Careful, you’re going to b—“

Poe hissed as the melted glue spilled over the sides of the silver jewel, burning his fingertips. He pressed the jewel onto the bright green mesh of the wing and shook his hand, as if the pain would magically go away. You walked back into the kitchen and grabbed a washcloth, getting it wet with cold water and bringing it back to Poe. He put the rest of the jewels back on and you gave him the washcloth.

“Thanks.” He looked up at you as you leaned against his desk and smiled. “Well look at you, Wendy.”

“I couldn’t find a long blue nightgown or dress, you think this is okay?”

“Sweetheart, you will never hear me complain about you wearing a shorter dress.”

Even after being together for five years, Poe still had the ability to make you blush. He did it on purpose all the time, getting a good laugh out of it but giving you a kiss somewhere on your face every time as an apology. He grabbed your hand and pulled you onto his lap, his lips connecting with your jaw as you put an arm around his neck.

“Happy Anniversary.”

“Happy Anniversary, my love,” you said with a smile and you leaned down and kissed him. “You know, I think out of all our anniversaries, this one is my favorite.”

“The anniversary of the first time we slept together is your favorite?”

You shrugged. “It’s the one that started everything. I love celebrating that.”

“Speaking of celebrating, you still up for making the trip downtown?”

You sighed heavily and run your fingers through the hair at the base of his neck.

“I don’t know if I’m in the mood to be fucked against the wall tonight…your baby is taking all of my energy.”

He smirked. “Which one?”

“Both of them, but the one in the oven in particular.”

He snickered and put his hand on your stomach where, in a just a few short weeks, a baby bump would start becoming more noticeable.

“I’m sorry, I know we do it every year—”

“Don’t be sorry, hon. I know the first few months of pregnancy comes with a lot of fatigue. You were exhausted with Addie. We can celebrate another day. Besides, I had another idea in mind, just in case.” You looked down at him and cocked your eyebrow. “When we get home from trick-or-treating, we’ll get Addie bathed and put to bed, get into our pajamas and cuddle while you eat your weight in peanut butter cups and watch a movie.”

You looked at him adoringly, putting your other arm around his neck and pulling him into a hug.

“I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” he chuckled as he hugged you back, a soft kiss being placed on your neck. He rubbed your stomach gently, a soft smile appearing on his face. “So, when do you want to tell Addie?”

“Maybe when there’s a bump…she’ll probably ask where the baby is and it’ll be easier to show her it’s in my belly.”

“You think she’s going to ask where babies come from? Because I don’t know if I’m ready to have that conversation with her.”

“She might. We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. For now, let’s go trick-or-treating.”

He patted your leg and you stood up just in time for Addie to come running in, giggling as she looked back to see Kes peering around the corner at her. She hid behind his legs and Poe looked down at her.

“I got your wings fixed, Tinkerbell.” She clapped her hands and he grabbed the wings, sliding the elastic bands up her arms. She ran around him and past Kes.

“My wings is fixed!” She yelled, looking back at Kes. “I can flys now, you can’t get me!”

“Arrghhh,” Kes groaned, looking back at you. “She be having a point.”

You giggled as you watched her creep carefully back to Kes and then jump out of the way when he tried to grab her. Poe put his hand on your back and rubbed it slowly as you watched her play with her grandpa, the both of you already thinking about how much fun she’ll have with her new sibling.

“Let’s go tricker treating!” Addie said excitedly, grabbing Kes’ hand and pulling him towards the door.

You and Poe followed them out, Poe grabbing her trick or treat bag and her Tinkerbell blanket and you getting Beebs’ leash. He jumped up on you excitedly as you hooked him up, the eight year old corgi still having the energy of a puppy, but you knew he’d pass out either on your bed or Addie’s as soon as you got home.

Locking up the house, you and Beebs followed the others out into the warm Halloween evening. The sounds of the neighborhood kids squealing with fright and gleefully talking about all the candy they’ve gotten was carried down the streets. A smile formed on your face as you watched them. Poe and Kes each had one of Addie’s hands, Peter Pan, Tinkerbell, and Captain Hook, and they led her down the driveway. You grabbed your phone and took a picture, the setting sun providing the perfect backdrop.

“Y/N!”

You were too busy looking at the photo you had taken to realize they had turned around and were talking to you. Your head snapped up, a slight blush forming on your cheeks.

“We forgot to take pictures,” Poe said as he walked back.

“Oh my gosh, you’re right! Addie, we’re going to take some pictures first and then we’ll get going, okay?” She sighed heavily, wanting to just go already, and you knelt down to her level. “Just a couple of pictures.”

She nodded and you gave her a kiss on her cheek and joined Poe in front of your garage.

“You better let me in one of these pictures,” Kes said with a humorous smile. “I don’t get this dressed up just for anyone and you’ll want to document it.”

“Of course we want a photo with you in it, Kes.” You smiled at him and he shot you a wink. He came and stood beside you as Poe set his phone up on the car and coming over to stand on the other side of his dad.

“Smile right there, Addie,” you said, pointing to the camera. She put a big smile on her face and Poe started the shutter timer, the watch counting down from three to take the picture. Kes went and grabbed the camera, muttering “perfect” under his breath and holding it up to take one of the three of you.

As Kes took the picture of your perfect little growing family, in front of your perfect dream house, on a perfect and warm Halloween night, you thought about how this wasn’t where you’d thought you’d be just five years out of college.

You decided you would text the group of friends you went out with later that night, thanking them for dragging you out to the loud and crowded nightclub. Because without them making that suggestion, you wouldn’t have found the love of your life.

All it took was one night, where all order was suspended, and one drunken impulse to completely change the course of your future.

There was absolutely nothing you would do differently.

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#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x y/n #poe dameron fluff #back to you series #modern au #modern poe dameron #poe dameron fanfiction

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softboywriting · 3 years

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The Two Times You Ended Up In His Room, And The One Time He Ended Up In Yours | Poe Dameron

Summary: You and Poe are both x-wing pilots and you have both been mutually pining for each other for a long while. Things finally come to a head when you end up in his room one night on accident. [tw: PTSD discussion] [Set before films? but non specific] [established friendship] [mutual pining] [fluff] [established nickname]

Word Count: 5k

|Masterlist In Bio|

The first time you end up in Poe's room it's an accident. It is well past midnight and you're trying to avoid the guard who always flirts with you. He's really creepy and you just want to go for a walk around base to clear your head. Things have been tense and you just want a moment to breathe. Unfortunately you have absolutely no luck and you run into the aforementioned guard. His name is Karik. How could you forget, he tells you every single time you see him.

You turn down a hall toward the command center and there he is. He raises his hand and greets you like an old friend and you do nothing of the sort in return. Instead you turn around and go to the closest door, scan your all access ID and go in. You have no idea who to expect inside but you don't care. Explaining your issue will be easier to deal with than Karik.

In the low light of the bedroom you can make out an orange flight suit in the corner, a body on the bed with their back to you and a droid in the corner powered down. The droid is the dead giveaway. It's BB8. That means the man on the bed is Poe Dameron.

As if you had said his name out loud, he rolls over and flips on a small wall lamp beside the bed. He's topless, hair a dark curly mess, the gold chain with small ID tags he always wears glints in the light. Stars above, he is a sight to see. "Hello?" He asks sleepily, rubbing his eyes and making sure you're actually there. "Jumper is that you?"

Jumper. The nickname you earned from the x-wing pilots just over a year ago when your x-wing was going down and you emergency evacuated on a planet you had no knowledge of. You knew two things. Die in a fiery crash with the x-wing or possibly survive the fall on to the unknown planet and keep fighting with the resistance, but also possibly die upon impact. Obviously you survived. Broken and battered you landed in quicksand. It was Poe who rescued you only minutes after you landed. He had seen the x-wing go down and went to find you, or better yet, your body to bring back your ID tags. When he found you alive he was shocked. If he hadn't come after you, you'd have died in that quicksand, unable to move and sinking slowly. Truly you owe this man your life.

"Yeah, hey Poe." You chuckle nervously. Maybe explaining your sudden intrusion wouldn't be easier than dealing with Karik. Because of course it's Poe and he's your friend, and of course he's your commander too but on top of all of that you've got a massive crush on him. Like, you’re basically in love with him and he has no idea. "I-... was out for a walk."

"A walk?" He sits up and the blankets pool at his hips. "A walk into people's bedrooms?"

"Yes, no! No! I couldn't sleep so I went for a walk around base. There's this guy, a guard or something, he always tries to flirt with me and it makes me uncomfortable. Anyway I saw him and I just went into the closest room to avoid him."

"Oh. That's horrible, have you told him you're not interested?" Poe slides over on his bed toward the edge and adjusts the blankets. "Have you talked to anyone about it?"

You sigh heavily. "I've told him I'm not interested of course. I haven't brought it to anyone's attention because he isn't like...I don’t know?"

"It's unwanted attention. He's harassing you. Tell me who it is and I'll talk to them tomorrow."

"I don't want to start trouble."

Poe flips his blanket back. "I won't have anyone on this base getting harassed, let alone one of my best pilots."

"I-" your voice catches as you realize he's just given you a major compliment. One of his best pilots? Coming from Poe Dameron, the Poe Dameron? Your heart is going to explode. "Thank you," you manage to whisper while your brain and heart go a thousand miles a minute.

He chuckles softly, as if the compliment were nothing. "You know we have a recon mission tomorrow. You need to get some sleep. Should I walk you back to your room?"

"I can't ask that of you. I already woke you up and barged in your bedroom."

"It's no problem. I'm offering." Poe pulls back his blanket completely and slides off the bed, stretching as he stands. His black jogging pants hang low on his hips and you force yourself to look at BB8 in the corner. "Come on, Jumper. I need my pilots rested before they get behind the controls."

You nod and he opens the door, ushering you into the bright hallway. Karik is nowhere in sight and you're glad. It would be painfully obvious he was the one if he were lingering outside the door. "I think I'll be fine. You can go back to sleep Poe."

"No, I wanna make sure you get to your room unbothered." He runs a hand over his hair and scratches his side. It's hotter than it has any right to be. He's just being a human and you can't get your head out of the clouds. "You're in South Central quarters right?"

"Y-yeah? How'd you know?"

"I visited every day when you were laid up after your crash. Remember?"

"Oh yeah, right, duh." You shake your head and rub your neck. The scar there from the operation they did to reconstruct your shoulder is still raised. Your stomach churns as you think about how much of your body is scared from that crash. You're still alive though, and that's what matters.

Poe lays a hand on your cheek and fans his fingers out over your neck. "You still with me?"

"What?" You snap out of your trip down memory lane and look to the man in front of you. "Sorry."

"I didn't mean to bring up a sore subject."

"No, no it's fine."

"Did you ever go to therapy for that or anything? It takes a toll on a person when they get that close to death." Poe slides his hand down to your shoulder. "I'm not saying anything is wrong with you because there isn't, I just want to make sure you're alright."

You smile softly. "Yes, I've seen someone, I’m still seeing someone actually. I promise I'm not going to crash anymore x-wings or let you down on a mission because I'm in my head."

"I don't care if you let me down or destroy a hundred x-wings. I care about your health, about you as a person not as just some pilot on my team. I never wanna pull you from the brink of death again but I'd do it over and over if I must, just to see you smile and fist bump me before you get in your x-wing again."

"T-thank you Poe." You swallow back the surge of emotion that courses through you. "I haven't- I don't really talk about it outside of therapy y'know?"

"You can talk about it any time with me. It's okay. I've been there and it's a dark place to come back from." He wraps his arm around you and pulls you into a hug. "You're not alone."

You bring your hands up and grip his back gently. It's warm, soft and smooth to the touch. He must use quality body wash. "Sorry I woke you up and now I'm like this."

"There's a time for everything. Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Does the name Jumper upset you? I guess I didn't think of it until now."

"No, it's like a badge of honor. It's alright I don't mind."

"Okay good." He ruffles your hair and you swat at his hand. "You need to go to bed. Like I said, I don't need a sleepy pilot tomorrow."

"Yeah okay, Dad."

Poe smirks and folds his arms over his chest. "Dad? Or do you mean Daddy?"

Your jaw drops as you realize what he is implying. "Oh disgusting. You're sick Dameron. You're sick."

He laughs raucously, leaning on the wall as he catches his breath. "Oh man, your face was just priceless. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm joking. I'm not into that at all."

"Oh my- fuck Poe you are terrible!"

"I've been called worse honey." He pats your back and pushes you forward gently. "Seriously though, as much as I'd love to stay up all night with you, we both need some sleep. Let's get you to bed so I can get some sleep too."

__________________

Two days later you wake up from a nightmare in a cold sweat. You had gone down again, your x-wing careening to the surface of a planet you're unfamiliar with. This time you didn't jump out, trapped by your seat belt straps and you crashed with it. Everything felt so real and the moment you made impact you sat bolt upright in bed gasping for air. It's been over a year since the crash, you haven't had a dream like this in forever. You remember what Poe said, that you could go talk to him anytime. It's well into the early hours of the morning and you feel bad waking him up again, but you need something solid, something real. There are no missions for a few days so he can catch up on sleep tomorrow or something.

You put on your slippers and head out into the hall. You pass a few of the hangar crew, most likely the night shift, on your way down Poe's hallway. At his door you scan your ID and it slides open, allowing you to step in and hit the close button.

Poe stirs, rolling over in bed and looking at you. "Jumper? That you again?"

"Yeah, I'm sorry."

"No, not at all. Here." He scoots over and pulls the blanket back. "Get in."

"I don't know if that's appropriate?"

"Appropriate? What is this grade school academy? We're adults and you're my friend and co pilot. I think you're allowed to get in my bed. Do you want me to make it an order?"

"No," you laugh softly at how ridiculous it sounds. You crawl under the blanket and snuggle down against the mattress. It smells like him, warm and rich almost like sandalwood and spices. "I'm sorry I woke you up. I just didn't want to be alone."

"Nightmare?" He asks, voice soft and deep in your ear. He's so close you're torn between being comfortable and being nervous. "Tell me about it?"

"I was going down in an x-wing and I couldn't evac because I was stuck and I was so scared." Your chest tightens and you take a heavy breath. "I was so scared of dying Poe. I shouldn't be, I know the risk I take everytime I get behind the controls. But I was so fucking scared I didn't want to die like that, I didn't want to..." Your voice breaks completely as a sob wracks your body. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

Poe takes your hand and brings it up to kiss your knuckles. It makes your heart ache and everything feels surreal. You're a mess of emotions. He lets you cry it out, waits to speak until you've settled yourself down enough to breathe normally. "Can I tell you a secret?"

"Mmmhmm."

"I get scared too. The first time I almost died I ended up in a sand dune alone with a cut on my head and a broken arm. I think I was eighteen. If some salvagers hadn't found me by tracking my downed x-wing, I'd have died of starvation and dehydration. I didn't know where I was or how to get back to civilization. I think about that flight every time something happens to my ship and my controls go dark for a moment. I had nightmares every night for two years. I still get them from time to time."

"Oh. I didn't know that happened to you."

"Mmm. I've been in a lot of dangerous situations and I'm sure I will be in more in the future. Being afraid of dying doesn't make you weak, it makes you human. Unfortunately PTSD is a very real side effect of traumatic events and we've been through a lot. I still go to therapy once a month because coping is hard."

You nod and squeeze his hand in yours. "Thanks for letting me stay in here for a bit. I just wanted to feel something real, to know the dream was just a dream."

"I understand. You're welcome to sleep with me if you want. I have to be up in a few hours to meet with Leia, but you can stay as long as you like."

You chuckle softly and wipe your face. You feel a lot better having cried it out. You're feeling a lot less scared of dying and being weak and a lot more giddy and anxious about being this intimate with Poe. "Is Poe Dameron asking me to sleep with him?"

"Only if you say yes."

"Mmm, only if you keep it above the waist." You say teasingly.

Next thing you know Poe is leaning over you. His hand slides into your hair, turning your face to him. In the dark room so you can't see him clearly when he is this close and your breathing stops. Is this happening? Is he actually making a move?

"P-Poe?"

"Above the waist." He strokes his thumb over your cheek. "That's the only stipulation?"

"For sleeping? Or you mean for-"

"I do."

A flush rises in your chest and you can feel your cheeks get warm just before the rest of your body floods with heat. "I didn't know you felt that way about me."

He chuckles softly and leans his forehead against yours. "Jumper, you're all I've wanted since the day I pulled you from the quicksand. I knew when I saw you almost ripped from my life, I needed you. You're funny, smart, quick, and a damn good pilot." He bumps his nose against yours and you let out a shaky breath. "I don't let just anyone in my room late at night, and I sure as hell don't share my bed with just anyone either."

"I can't believe...I was just teasing but- I've always wanted you t-"

He presses his lips to yours and you melt. Your body feels as if it completely dissolves, from your bones to your skin. You feel like putty held together by some fragile and unknown force, doomed to ooze out of your form at any second. He's burning up, body flush to you as he works his lips against yours ever so gently. It's even better than you imagined, he's so soft and warm, a gentle lover, and your heart stops as you think about how this can't be real. This has to be a dream. You're still in your room. This cannot be happening.

"Hey, you alright?" He murmurs, stroking some hair off of your face. "Did I read this wrong?"

"It's a dream. You're not real." Your chest swells with crushing sadness and you can't stop the tears that spill over the corners of your eyes. "This isn't happening. I'm going to wake up now."

Poe lets out a soft laugh. "Sweetheart you are awake." He leans over you and turns on the wall lamp. The room is flooded with a yellow glow and you see him, face to face. "See? I'm right here?"

You reach up and touch his cheek, the light stubble scratches against your fingertips. His loving eyes droop, a dead give away that he enjoys your touch. But why? Why would he wait so long? Why would he never say anything? You splay your hand flat on his cheek and rub your palm along the scratchy short hairs, thumb bumping his lower lip. "Why now?"

"Because I finally had an inkling that you were just as interested as I was. You're hard to read most of the time. I understand that though. You're private with your feelings and I'm your commander. I don't blame you for not flinging yourself at me. I've not been exactly forthcoming either, as I didn't want to be inappropriate as a person of authority."

"Right...but what is proving to me that this isn't a dream?"

"Well would a dream bite your shoulder?" He drops his face to your skin and lets out a hot breath over it.

"Maybe?"

"Would you feel it if it wasn't real?"

"I don't know."

Poe sighs heavily, forehead pressing to your shoulder. "This is not a dream. I swear. Do you want to get up? Go talk to someone else? Maybe fly the x-wings around a bit?"

"No. I want to sleep. You said you need to sleep too because you have a meeting with Leia early in the morning. Maybe if I fall asleep I'll wake up if it's a dream."

"It's not a dream." He leans over and flips off the light before he drops his weight to the bed beside you. "You'll see."

_____________________

Morning comes and you wake up to bright light pouring in through the small window beside the bed. Of course Poe has a good room with a window. Most of the base sleeping quarters have no windows and are very small. His is nice enough, definitely more spacious than a lot of the rooms you've been in. His bed is tucked in the corner, there's a bedside table, a rod built into the wall for clothes, a small three drawer dresser behind the door and a little indent on the wall the bed is against for storage where BB8 stays. He doesn't have much in the way of personal items on display. Only a few hygiene essentials in a basket on the dresser and a small box that looks like it might hold a piece of jewelry. There is a photo frame too, and it looks like a picture of the x-wing fighters.

Last night wasn't a dream, that much is obvious. You're in Poe's room and he is gone. You debate turning over and going back to sleep, or going out to get breakfast at the mess hall. Your stomach makes the decision and it says mess hall as soon as possible.

In the mess hall you take a seat with some of the other pilots. You know them well enough, a few of them you would call friends. You've never been one to be too social because in this fight, you lose too many people. One of the few people you call a friend is Vivi. She is a bomber pilot, knows the in and out of a bomber like the back of her hand. She's a bit of a gossip but she has been here with you since the day you arrived.

"Hey hey, how's it going?" Vivi asks as you place your tray in front of you.

"Good. I've got a few days off. I'm glad just to recoup."

"Got anything special in mind?" She asks with a little smirk.

You shrug and poke at the jellied fruit you've got on the plate. "Sleeping? Finding a place to take a hot bath. I swear I've got arthritis and I'm only twenty five."

"Mmm probably because you were a shattered heap of bones when Dameron found you. That shit doesn't heal back right y'know?"

"Mmm yeah probably."

"Yeah...so how long have you and Dameron been a couple?"

You nearly choke on your coffee and quickly grab your napkin to clean up your face. How in the galaxy did she know you and Poe spent any time together outside missions? "Excuse me?"

"I said what I said. I heard from Nupe that Karik told him that he saw you go into Dameron's room the other night, like well into the night too. I also heard that Trey and Garin saw you in the hall going to Dameron's room last night. So, how long?"

"It's not like that. Karik is the one who is obsessed with me, remember? His rumors are invalid. I was out for a walk because I couldn't sleep and I just ducked into a room to avoid him. It happened to be Poe's room. There is nothing going on."

Vivi chuffs. "So what about last night?"

"I went to talk to him about the crash. I've been having a hard time lately and- y'know what? I don't owe you an explanation." You stab a little harshly at your scrambled eggs and bring them to your mouth. You don't owe anyone an explanation about why you've been to Poe's room. Why does it matter? He's your friend and co-pilot. That's all anyone needs to know. So what if you kissed last night. You're still not sure it wasn't a dream. Sure you woke up in his room but that doesn't mean anything...maybe.

Vivi stays quiet, realizing she has crossed a line she wasn't meant to cross. The two of you eat in silence while the rest of the mess hall go about their own conversations. It's not until you're ready to take your tray to the wash station that Vivi speaks again. "I'm sorry I pushed you. I think you'd make a good couple. I just thought- well the way Dameron looks at you I thought something was definitely going on."

"The way he- what?"

"You don't know? He looks at you like you're the most incredible person he's ever seen, literally after every mission he gawks like a proud parent watching their kid win a race." She laughs softly to herself. "He is so in love with you and you have no idea do you?"

"Wait- last night...fuck. I have to talk to him."

"He's still at the command center with Leia and the others last I knew."

You pick up your tray and head for the wash station, passing it off to the droid there as you head out. You're starting to think last night was not a dream after all. If not, you've gotta talk to Poe as soon as possible. If rumor spreads that you're hooking up or sneaking around, whatever, you want to make sure that it doesn't affect either of you. You want a solid definition of your relationship no matter what it may be.

As you turn down the hall to the command center you run into Karik. The absolute last person you want to deal with right now. He's standing guard outside the command center, posted most likely, and you've got to get past him to get to Poe. As if the Galaxy hasn't given you enough to deal with in your life.

"Hey Jumper, where are you headed?" Karik smiles, arms folded over his chest to make himself seem bigger. It's like a bird, puffing itself up for first impressions on a mate.

"I've business in the command center."

"Do you? I don't have any orders to allow you in."

You roll your eyes and look to the doors beyond that open to reveal the internal workings of the command center. You make eye contact with Poe for a moment before the doors close again. "Why don't you double check?"

"I know my job. How about you? Do you know yours?"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Karik shrugs and gives a rude smirk. "Nothing. Just don't know what a pilot would think they need to be in the command center for. You're not a commander or a sergeant."

"What's your problem Karik?"

"I don't have a problem."

"Really? Because you are acting like an asshole right now and if my memory serves me right you've never been one before."

"People change."

You scoff and smile to yourself. This is absolutely about you and Poe. He's blocking you because he's jealous. "You-"

"Jumper, hey you came to meet me?" Poe says as he jogs down the short hall behind Karik that leads to the command center. He stops and lays his hand on your shoulder, smiling softly.

"Of course, I was hoping we could talk soon. I didn't realize your meeting would go so long today."

Poe looks back at the closed doors and runs a hand over his hair. "We're just about finished. Did you get breakfast?"

"Yeah just came from there."

"Damn I was hoping to get something with you. I'm starving in here."

You look to Karik and then back to Poe and smile oh so sweetly. "I can grab you something before they switch over to lunch. Meet me in my room when you're done?"

"Sure. I'll be wrapping up quickly." Poe moves his hand from your shoulder to your neck and does a soft little cradle of your jaw before pulling his hand away. "You're such a sweetheart. I'll meet you there soon."

Warmth floods your body and grips your heart. So tender and loving. You're not sure if you're ready for that side of Poe yet. You glance at Karik and he is staring straight ahead, an unmistakable scowl of jealousy on his face. Good, maybe now he will leave you alone.

_____________________

"So Karik is the one who bothers you isn't he?" Poe asks, stretching his legs out in front of him. The two of you are in your room, wanting to talk in private from the rest of the base who are clearly very interested in your relationship. "I could sense he was uncomfortable with me touching you."

"Yeah, he's moving on though I think. I don't know." You pick at the bread you've brought to snack on while Poe finishes his jelly on toast. "I wanted to ask you about last night."

Poe looks over and you can read his expression as plain as day. He looks nervous, concerned that he has wronged you. "Yeah?"

"It wasn't a dream right?"

"No, it definitely was not. Are you uncomfortable?"

"No. No, I'm not uncomfortable with what happened. I guess I'm coming to terms? It still feels like a dream, like it feels hazy because I was so tired. Do you really actually like me like that?"

"Yes. I really like you." He chuckles and leans his head on your shoulder. "Jumper, you're the most amazing pilot I've ever seen and you're so incredibly beautiful without even trying. I don't know why I have waited so long to make a move. I suppose I was afraid I wasn't good enough."

"Not good enough? You're Poe fuckin' Dameron. You're the greatest pilot the resistance has ever seen, shit, that some of the Galaxy has ever seen. You're sweet and kind and you're so determined and dedicated. Poe, you're a rarity and any woman who gets to be romantically involved with you is so lucky."

Poe lifts his head and puts his arm around you. "I suppose you've hit the jackpot then."

"Me? Why?"

"Because I want to ask you out, Jumper. Be my girlfriend."

"Wh- we haven't even gone on a date Poe! How do you even know you want to date me let alone actually be in a relationship with me? This is a bit fast don't you think?"

"I know we have chemistry through the roof when we are together in the cockpit of a ship. We've got an undeniable connection when we are fighting side by side in x-wings and even more of one when we see each other on the ground. There is no way you don't feel that when we're together."

You smile to yourself. Of course you noticed all these things. They're why you've got such a crush on him. You and him have an unspoken connection that puts you on the same wavelength when you're near each other. You always thought maybe it was because he's such a good pilot that you just vibed with him. Two birds of a feather type deal. But it's deeper than that. He evokes a deep comfort, a sense of home and family that you no longer have. By the stars you never realized you are basically in love with him.

"Jumper?" He murmurs, hand cradling your jaw and turning your face to him. "Are you alright?"

"I think I'm in love with you." You mumble softly, eyes focusing in and connecting with his.

Poe smiles and lets out a laugh. "And I'm the one moving fast?"

"Shut up." You grab his face and pull him in for a kiss. He immediately melts into your grasp, reaching for your face and grinning into your lips. "You taste like jelly," you giggle as he pulls back and leans his forehead against yours.

Poe pulls you against his chest and you wrap your arms around him. "So is this a yes to being my girlfriend?"

"Yes. I'd love to date you Poe Dameron."

"Good." He presses a kiss to your head. "Because I don't know if I could keep pining after you."

"Pining? Oh please."

"Hush." He ruffles your hair and falls back on the bed, pulling you back with him. "Let me be the romantic I was born to be."

"I'm excited to meet this side of you."

He kisses along your jaw and hums. "I'm excited to show it." ______________________

end

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Header image by delicate-venus

*****Note: none of my works should be posted anywhere outside of my linked accounts. I do not give permission to repost with or without credit to my accounts. Please notify me of any reposted works.*****

#star wars #star wars fic #star wars universe #star wars fan fic #poe dameron #poe dameron fic #poe dameron fan fic #poe dameron star wars #starwars #poe dameron x reader

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on-a-lucky-tide · 4 years

Note

Hey Rawr, ive just spent the last 24 hours worried like hell about my cat, who's rather sick atm. Got any cute ideas running around your wonderful brain?

I’m sorry this took so long! I’ve been ploughing through WIPs. I hope everything turned out okay, and if it didn’t, please have some soft to help you smile a little.

Eskel and Geralt go on a late autumn walk with their dog, Roach...

The dry leaves crackled under the heavy soles of their walking boots and Roach bounded through the endless piles of fallen conkers, huge spaniel paws batting at yet more leaves, as she barked in delight. Geralt looked to his left and smiled fondly behind the barrier of the scarf wrapped high around his chin.

Eskel had been in his life for as long as he could remember—best friend, soulmate—and now, as they both approached their autumn years, Geralt could call him husband. They’d been married for ten years. When Eskel signed his name on the register, his hair had still been jet black, but now it was greying around the ears and temples. His broad shoulders were still just as strong, his hazel eyes still just as bright, but he bore their decade together in the smile lines around his mouth and in his forehead. Wisened and refined by years of love and happiness.

Salt and pepper, Yen called them. Different, yet inseparable. They had been since they’d first met as boys, and now they would be as they became old men. Geralt slipped his arm around Eskel’s waist as they walked and pressed a kiss to the red, cold-flushed nose that poked out just above Eskel’s scarf. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” Geralt hummed, head tilting for a light butt against the side of Eskel’s jaw. “Pub?”

“Sounds good. I can’t actually feel my fingers anymore,” Eskel murmured, and squeezed the hand settled at his waist.

They found the little country pub they loved so much. They’d discovered it about seven years ago when they’d first moved into the area, and Geralt loved its woodsy decor, roaring open fire and elderly landlady. She chirped at them happily as they stepped across the threshold—Barbara, with her thick waistline, huge smile and dazzlingly blue eyes that rivalled even Geralt’s—and immediately plucked open the glass jar of dog biscuits she kept specifically for Roach. And every other canine that trotted into her establishment.

She wiped her hands on her apron once she’d fussed over her favourite curly spaniel—”such a pretty girl, oh, look at you, daddys treating you well, hm? Would you like a roast dinner today, I think I plate you one up”—and patted Eskel on the forearm. “The usual, my love?”

“Please, Barbara,” Eskel patted down his jeans for his wallet as Geralt drifted over to the fireplace. He had a favourite armchair; the emerald green material was fraying and faded, but the cushions were still plump and he could stretch his long legs out in front of the grate. Roach padded over and immediately collapsed on the threadbare rug by his feet after a brief scritch behind the ear.

Pints poured, Eskel took up the seat opposite and placed both glasses on the low table between them. Geralt was already snoozing. Had to be a new record. Rather than wake him, Eskel shrugged out of his coat and leaned back, head tilted to the wing of the armchair as he admired his partner. Silvery strands of hair fell across a peaceful face lost to slumber. Geralt was unquestionably a handsome man at all times—proud nose, cheekbones, with that roguish glint in his blue eyes—but it was in these moments that he was… beautiful. Eskel’s Geralt. Relaxed, contented, happy; a faint smile quirking parted lips even in sleep.

Barbara appeared with a fresh log for the fire and planted her hands on her hips as she gazed down at Geralt affectionately. “Oh, my Frank used to be just the same,” she whispered. “A comfortable chair, warm fire, dog at his feet, and he’d be lost to the world. Never begrudged him it though. Worked so hard, did Frank. Deserved his moment of peace, especially as he got older.”

“Hm,” Eskel smiled. “Don’t let him hear you call him old, Barbara.”

“Oh sod it, age is just a number to mark the passing of time,” she patted Eskel on the shoulder. “Love is timeless.”

And with that nugget of wisdom, their favourite grey-haired landlady bustled off to attend to a new arrival. The kindly face of her late husband beamed at them from across the bar.

Eskel looked back across at Geralt. He loved him just as much now as he had forty years ago, and knew he would continue to do so long after age and time became irrelevant. They were two parts of one soul; a pair that could never be separated. Even their loved ones never spoke of one without the other.

Salt and pepper. Wine and cheese. Song and dance.

Eskel and Geralt.

#rawrkinwrites #Geraskel #Geralt #Eskel #Old Men In Love #Autumn Walks #Fluff #Modern AU

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seijohsfairy · 3 years

Text

𝙷𝙾𝚁𝚁𝙸𝙳

rhi, this is for you ♡ remember when you said mafia seijoh and i said i’d write it?? but then i got super distracted with other fics and never did the thing? weLL I FINALLY FINISHED IT. she’s cut up into two parts bc i didn’t want to make it too long but part 2 should be up soon for @/seijorhi & massive, big fat ty to @/xplosiveboy

.wordc. 3k+ tw mafia!big 4, noncon, sexual harassment, yandere, coercion

horrid pt 2

It was written somewhere in your favorite library, on a vacant page of the grimy literature textbook stuffed between two shelves maybe, you read it just once. Back then you didn’t care much for the radical, unwilling to trust the faith of someone destroying what wasn’t theirs to begin with. Long, curved words littering the white; claiming full of hate that the poison our mind makes is the most powerful decay, that humans are the most horrid of creatures.

Back then you’d closed the book, sliding it back into place and tucking the knowledge far back into your mind, unwilling to use such a straight-set line of thinking on a world which had given you life, gifted you virtue and loudness. So terrifying; but splendid. You had swallowed, light and unwavering in the knowledge that you were still capable of processing, and giving kindness. You had settled above the cold of those words, thinking them sickly and rotten.

But you didn’t forget, the fire of them on the curve of the page. Or rather, you couldn’t.

It isn’t unlike you to falter in your step, feet rushing ahead faster than your mind can catch up and taking those half-hearted fumbles as just what it needs, before granting you another dash of mindless cadance. Not lost but wanting to reach home a bit faster, slicing off the unnecessary travel so you’d be able to cuddle up in a blanket a second sooner. Even without anything waiting for you on the other end. So you correct your balance for long enough to notice the long straight between brick walls, the direction of it catching your eye more than anything of value. The buildings here are taller, stubbier in their set size and darker, like the grime of the city has never been washed off them.

You’re small in between, but that has never stopped you before. You wonder if you could take that road, rush it. An alternative for the boring path you’re supposed to take. The monotony aches. You’re young, invincible, not having existed nearly long enough for something truly horrible to happen. Unbalanced, in a way.

But you’re not foolish either, and wasting precious time is the exact opposite of what you want. You bite your lip, carefully crossing the street to peek into the alley. Littered, wet, vacant. Until the breeze picks up and ruffles your hair, calling out for disaster. Unwilted flowers and those dusted grey to the core aching to meet, to make the balance even.

A show of red, white and black in the form of a man, and one that has your chest craving to be leveled with his. It isn’t that you haven’t been blown away by beauty before, but equality is something else entirely. Those things are weighty in their presence, heavy enough to break your reasoning and to have you rolling forward without will of your own. The heavy-set darkness of his eyes, his hair, his dress shirt. As if he wants to melt into the background, yet everything about him seems to demand attention. The bony points of his hands and fingers are bloodied, chafed and red shows through the split skin where his nose is lowest. But he fuels your wonder with a dignity, leaning against the metal door just as practiced as the cigarette held between his lips.

Never would you be more aware of your foolishness than looking back on that instant. But sadly you only figure that out long after you allow your body to drift towards him. Your kindness hasn’t failed you yet. It does crumble slightly when the weight of his gaze falls on you, staring your way like you’re a broken record disturbing his peace. But even in your clumsy approach you are obviously good and innocent, dragging closer. The pitter-patter of your feet against the wet concrete is shy, it drips from your lips. And beasts hidden in the cracks of society always sniff out that kind of virtue. “Excuse me,” you say. “Do you know where this alley leads?”

It’s a silly thing, more close to an excuse to speak than true curiosity but it has his mind churning. He blows out a white cloud beside your face, picking the destructive thing from between his lips with a tick of his brow. The tilt of his head in the way you had motioned leaves you tense, used breath building in your lungs, your tongue rubbing on the roof of your mouth like it has something to scrub away. “Don’t think you wanna go that way,” he simply says, eyeing you up and down with the languid movements of a lioness not yet bothering to stretch her muscles, “it’s dark and scary down there.” The glint in his hazel-greens should remind you of water pulling far back from the beach. It does remind you of it, but for reasons beyond you it doesn’t quite click.

So you puff out your chest, basking in the tiny bit of confidence you house to nod. “I think I can handle it,” you smile. As you consider your chances of making it to the other end, a feeling of irony comes to press on your shoulder. Sucking at the brave front until you’re all but left a shivering deer on two dainty legs. It feels colder here than it did on the main street.

So you look back only once at the handsome stranger, bowing in gratitude. “T-thank you, I— I’ll be going now.” Polite despite the tremble you feel, you were raised to be good. He only tilts his head in response, choosing silence the moment you wish for anything else, but you too are at a sudden loss. You turn on your heel and start tiptoeing away from the vast security of the street to drown yourself in sudden doubt in your ability. Most times you experience the opposite. You know the feeling of living, breathing with no worry, well and polishing your renewed understanding only later.

But the path his eyes take in chase of your body has a stickiness, and you can’t help but imagine he has already eaten you up in his mind, walking away with sweat on your palms. Two bangs sound against the metal, leaving you skittishly darting forward with your nails pulled into your palms. It’d be easier to pretend to be strong if you had a bit more faith in your own destructive power. Should you be a monster of preposterous size in the body of a cowering young woman, it’d be easy to push away the need to check, to make sure that you are not under threat. But you’re painfully human, so you glance over your shoulder anyway.

The handsome man has already slipped back into the building, but the memory of his expression gives you goosebumps. A reminder that humans are greedy in nature even when you don’t want them to be. You let the tense air out between parted lips, continuing down the wet curve of the buildings until a creak up ahead calls your attention. Against the darkness where another door swings open, two figures come out into the chill of the falling evening. You envy them for a moment, as they are not alone and you are, but then your feet halt to let your thoughts churn. The men, one with pretty, brown hair and the other a strawberry blond color, don’t need to search to find what they are looking for. The sharp eyes are turned your way the moment they exit the bruised building.

And you blink a few times, before taking a step back in the narrow space. They stand at the door with a stony confidence. Running now is definitely proof that you are not as brave as you pretended, but you can’t help it. With a deep breath you turn back, suddenly feeling hurried. No one reason could be good enough to put yourself into the jaw of an animal willingly, definitely not one as feeble as yours. You scurry back around the corner with a speed that would go unnoticed by most, but still you have to stable yourself again when you connect with another body. It catches you, wraps a large hand around your arm and you look up to express your gratitude by habit.

It’s another tall person, dark curly hair and a surprised expression. Something about his touch is debasing, seeming to latch onto every single one of your fibers. If it had only been this, it would leave you starving, your greedy heart categorizing everything under love at first sight— though you are barely old enough to have liked properly. But the contact is too long to sit well, your body straightening from him as best you can. “S-sorry,” you begin, silencing yourself with a gasp. The brunet of earlier, as well as the other two are upon you already, the presence of four men surrounding you so suddenly a frightening thing. “I- I’m sorry,” you mumble again, though it is lost in the intrigued gazes. They crowd around you before you can think of what you should do.

One of them shoots you a grin bright as the sun, leaning over your shoulder to come into view. “Look at you being the gentleman, Mattsun. You saved the cute girl from falling down!” You are still held onto by the curly haired man, who shrugs off the compliment with an indifferent expression. The cheerful one clicks his tongue, before rounding back on you with a smile that makes his eyes crinkle. The weightlessness he carries reminds you of something out of a fairy tale. Bright, obnoxiously cheerful. “What are you doing here, gorgeous? How old are you, you in college?” Voice lithe, sweet on your tongue like honey.

So you try to straighten up, dropping your lip from between your teeth. “Y-yes,” you say, to be interrupted by another voice. This one is more familiar, the first of the few. Tanned skin, handsome at every angle.

“All alone like this?” he breathes, “you must be pretty brave.” With an endless intrigue laced in his eyes, you’re pulled closer to the man with dark, spiky hair by your free hand. You stumble forward with the sudden shift. If you were ever an angel, your wings are useless now. And something tells you these men will make sure that soon they’ll be no more. He only smiles when you have to steady yourself on his chest with gentle fingertips, keeping you close to his warm body. But eager, it plays on his lips like you’re the thing he’s been looking to find for hours, maybe days. He lets out a chuckle at your dumbfounded expression. “I’m Iwaizumi, that’s Hanamaki and Matsukawa.” He waits a moment, smiling wider when you don’t show any recognition at it. “What’s your name?”

You’re so overwhelmed that it’s hard to even sound out the syllables. Your name doesn’t matter, you don’t disillusion yourself to think any of it matters, truly. But the looks remain even when you hesitate, and you find yourself speaking aloud. Though you barely get your name past your lips before you’re turned around by your shoulder, your response setting them alight. You’re left glancing up into a happy grin and pink hair. “You’re dressed up pretty. Nice skirt,” he coos, picking at the edge of it just once before leaning his face a bit closer to yours. “You’re pretty all over, you know that? Really pretty,” he draws out the sound until it sounds almost comical. “Right, Mattsun?”

You believe him when he says it, he looks at you like you’re shining, reflecting light like a diamond. The compliment, not your first but never truer, stews in your veins and boils your blood. There’s a vague hum from behind you, the man who caught you in your fall putting his big hands on your shoulders. Content to be near, if for a moment. With your constantly shifting gaze, you miss the lines on their hands and arms, the overwhelming smell of different colognes mixed with the smell of blood. “Not gonna say ‘thank you’?” He pouts.

“Tha—”

“Be nice, Makki!” The voice drowns out yours. “She’s just flustered. Right?” The unintroduced man smiles down at you again, his pretty face coming so close you can feel hit breaths tickle your cheeks. Kind or not, you jerk back instinctively. He continues, unbothered. “Sweet girls like her aren’t used to this. But we’re not so bad, I promise.” His pretty hand comes up to brush your hair back, cooing when your skin turns up the degrees more. Stupid, silly, your mind screams; it’s like your feet have been cemented to the floor. Like you’ve been here for centuries, and finally someone’s come to worship you.

Though his hand is shoved away from you rather harshly, with a frown. “Oi,” Iwaizumi growls, “let us do it ourselves, Oikawa.” He turns back to you with a certitude, closer and though you try to back away you’re only met with the hard lines of the person behind you. Mattsun still has his hands on your shoulders, rubbing comforting circles into the thin fabric of your blouse. Quiet, but not forgotten. You don’t dare look away from Iwaizumi though, his pretty eyes dark enough to make your heart jump uncomfortably against your ribcage. “He’s right though,” the noiret’s voice sinks low, “we’re not so bad. I think you’d like to see, huh?”

The words feel claustrophobic, your eyes widening. You glance at their faces in confusion, switching between each person quick enough to make you dizzy. “Uhm- I,” you stutter, but a brush up your leg has you gaping, frozen. “I don’t-” The cold fingers trail up the inside of your thigh, too high.

“Of course she does, look how nervous she looks.” Makki is so close now he’s molded to your side, the other men not far behind. “So precious,” he coos. “Here, take my hand for a second.” It is put in your field of vision like a peace offering, the breaths on your neck feeling suffocating. But with his long fingers opened invitingly, it’s almost easy to believe they have good intentions. You give in and drop your smaller hand in his, if only to get rid of the revering stare. Hiro grins wider though, and laces your fingers with his. He giggles, softly. “Like this, isn’t it so easy to just,” he drops your interlaced hands to brush up against his crotch, “put them here.” Every muscle in your body seems to quiver, but spun too tight to move. “You like it, right?” he taunts when you look down at the floor, holding your hand in place stubbornly. “Eheh, I can tell.”

“W-please stop,” you try to pull away, but the grip on your hand only tightens, thumb pressing down hard enough that you jerk back from the pain. “Aw, aw!” It’s painful, like your bone will shatter if he moves wrong, and the harder you pull back the more he clamps down. “That hurts!” you gasp, turning away in Issei’s hold.

“Such a good girl, look at you,” Iwaizumi says, his hands sliding around your waist to secure you a spot against him. You’re struggling now but there’s hands all over. More touch, more overwhelming motions to keep you near. You’re tucked into Mattsun’s chest, each swell of his chest brushing against your shoulder blades. And your cheek is pressed against a face, someone who starts pressing small kisses there. “You’re precious, I could just eat you right up.” Hajime grabs your face to turn it more towards him. On the inside you want to bare your teeth, show your claws and rip yourself out of the fragile shell, but then he presses a kiss to your forehead and all your fight sinks away. You were never the warlike type. You’re small, frightened and worst of all, cowardly. He smiles over your shoulder. “Right?”

“I’m sure she’d like that,” the tallest behind you grins, his deep voice shaking your body in his hold. “Just look at her.” One of his hands slips under the edge of your blouse, sparking like a smoldering ember. Though you start whimpering in their arms, he smiles. “Are you scared, little girl?” he chuckles, hovering his lips over your ear long enough to give you goosebumps. Your breathing is laboured, unable to stop the whimper that comes out.

“Pretty face, pretty hands, pretty legs,” Hanamaki names, his lips glued to the curve of your neck, “I bet you have a pretty tummy too.” He slips his free hand easily under the waistband of your skirt, pulling it away from your skin and you try to push him away to no avail. Though the pressure of his grip on you is anything but playful, he’s grinning like there’s no worry in his mind. “And pretty tits.”

“Guys,” Oikawa breaks the moment to motion his head towards the door then, already holding it open as the stroking continues. “If you would, please.” They’re suddenly pulling away from you, all but Mattsun who turns you in his hold and wraps your arms around his body, picking you up. His large hands under your butt, he chuckles when you gasp at the touch. Your arms are pulled over Issei’s shoulders and grabbed tight, forcing you in place.

You’d been overwhelmed, stunned and frightened, but when Iwa looks at you like you’re a new toy he can’t wait to use, to break; the building feeling shifts into something else. Terror.

“No, no, nononono,” you start pulling back against the brunet, looking around at the four men with big eyes. You try to kick your legs so that he’ll drop you, get fed up, anything. But he carries you into the building without a problem, much stronger than your pitiful attempt. “I have to get home, I can’t come with you,” you squeak, bristling when someone laughs. It’s a mean sound, cold and vicious and it makes your faltering heart drop. There’s an explosion of— some emotion or other, a stutter in your capacity to take in the world. You can only open your eyes wider, hoping that some sense comes through with it.

Excitement and fear always have a similar taste on your tongue, close enough in their thickness to mistake one for the other until it crawls out of your throat with a violent gasp for life. But this is more bitter, a feeling you recognize as panic too late.

“Let go! Let me go!! I don’t want to be here,” you rasp, the feeling slipping out in tears of stress at the corners of your eyes. The door is shut, casting you and them in darkness together.

“Yes, you do.” It’s Oikawa, though you can’t see him. The touch dragging up your back is enough to leave you with shivers. “We’re only going to take a second of your time, promise.” You’re carried deeper into this hall, the cold and draft the least of your worries. Part of you wants to scream, wants to bite and kick until you’re out of the door and as far away from them as you can. But a bigger part of you is more afraid of what they’ll do in retaliation, so you just bite your lip and try to control your tears.

“Hey, we promise,” the strawberry blond echoes, slipping around the tallest to shove his lips to yours. A deep rumble comes from his chest when you tilt your head away from him and against Mattsun’s neck instead. But he’s undeterred, instead pressing a few kisses to your wrist. “We’ll take real good care of you.” You can’t shake the feeling that their promises count for nothing. And as his long, scarred fingers tangle with yours like a mimicry of comfort, you can’t help but wonder. If those words on that page were written with so much conviction because the thing penning them down was the same as these men. Beastly, ungrateful monsters.

part 2 coming soon

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matchasprouts · 3 years

Text

Listen Closer - Chapter 9

[ obsessed with how this has more chapters than the walls <3 wjhbejwehbjewhbjewh ]

First || Next || Previous || Last

“I’m gonna turn off my phone if people keep interrupting my conversations and naps,” Garrett said into the phone as he answered the call, even placing a hand on his hip as if Mark could see his annoyed position.

Mark chuckled on the other end of the phone, and Garrett could hear people talking behind him. “I’m gonna send you an address, and I need you to get here as fast as possible. You’re a specialist now, and you’re gonna pretend to help us figure out this case.”

Garrett paused, completely okay with lying to the authorities but also wondering what the fuck was going on. “Okay… why? Is this a ploy to spend more time with me? Mark, we see each other every day.”

“You said you like to watch investigations. I’m giving you the chance to participate in one.” Oh. So Mark was in love with him.

“I’m on my way,” Garrett replied without hesitation, hanging up and heading right outside for his car. He already knew where it was, so he didn’t need the address, and Mark knew that. He was probably just saying it because he was in front of people.

“Where are you going?” John suddenly asked, cutting off his mad dash for his car. He froze, and turned around with a sigh, like a teenager who had tried to run off before his dad could stop him.

Oh god, this meant he had to bring up the Angel Trap. “Detective Kerry failed her test,” he said, and neither Amanda nor John seemed surprised. “Hoffman’s at the scene now, and I’m gonna watch it. Don’t worry, I’m a good liar.”

John hummed at that, knowing he couldn’t stop him but clearly unsure about him being so close to the police. “Be careful. Try not to talk more than necessary. I trust you, but even the best can slip up.”

“Yeah, fair enough. I’ve gotta go, I’ll see y’all later,” Garrett replied, bouncing on his feet before John gestured for him to go, and then his mad dash continued, resulting in him literally throwing himself into his car.

He was like… ninety percent sure that he was speeding when he got on the road.

---

“Hey, sorry, John kept me up,” Garrett said as he met Mark in front of the building, now following him inside. “So I’m just a Jigsaw specialist? Shouldn’t I have equipment with me?”

“You don’t need it,” Mark replied simply, falling silent as they passed a group of his coworkers. “You, Mr. Whitlock, are just very good at your job.” He paused, looking Garrett up and down. “Is that my shirt?”

Garrett decided not to tell Mark that technically his title should be Dr., instead waiting until he introduced himself to literally anyone. “Sounds about right. I need gloves though.” And then he smirked at the question. “Yeah, it is. You probably shouldn’t leave your clothes in the base if you don’t want me to steal them.”

Mark was quiet for a moment before he sighed, pulling a pair of gloves out of his jacket as they reached the body. He handed them to Garrett, who immediately pulled them on and made a beeline for the corpse.

Of course some asshole stopped him.

“Who the hell are you?” one of the men standing in the room when he entered asked him, making him very tempted to glare but instead he smiled.

This random guy was tall, but only four inches taller than Garrett. He had mostly slicked back brown hair, deep blue eyes, and what seemed to be a permanent scowl. He was, unfortunately, attractive. Especially in that suit.

Garrett looked past him, glancing at the woman who he’d been standing next to. She was shorter, with curly dark brown hair that she had pulled back into a ponytail. Her eyes were a deep brown, and she looked significantly less asshole-ish than her presumed partner.

Finally, he turned back to the man, the small smile still on his lips. “Dr. Whitlock, I’m the Jigsaw specialist. I’ve been working with his traps since he first appeared,” he introduced himself, offering a hand for the man to shake.

He very, very hesitantly took Garrett’s hand, giving it a firm shake before immediately dropping it. “Special Agent Strahm, over there is my partner Special Agent Perez,” he said after a moment of inspecting Garrett, gesturing with a tilt of his head to the woman.

“FBI?” Garrett immediately asked, glancing over at Mark. He had NOT been informed of the fucking FBI, and he was going to have a long talk with him about that later. Garrett had already been accused of being Jigsaw once by the FBI, and he really didn’t need it again.

“When a serial killer gets this many victims, we tend to step in,” Strahm replied, looking up at the hanging body. “Besides, Detective Kerry was our link in the precinct. Of course we would step in when she dies.”

Fuck, Amanda really just HAD to screw him over like this.

“Did you know Detective Kerry?” he asked, looking back over to Garrett, who was now inspecting the wings on the trap, admiring how well he’d managed to get the hooks in her ribs.

“No, I didn’t,” Garrett answered, keeping his focus on the trap. “I only work with Detective Hoffman, occasionally Detective Fisk. I’m sure you know that officers tend to have a specific specialist or informant that they exclusively use.”

Wow. His first day as a fake specialist and he was already rocking it.

Strahm hummed at that, watching him do his “job” before offering his theory. “There’s another accomplice, other than Amanda Young.”

Garrett’s eyes widened for half a second, surprised that they knew Amanda was an apprentice. Did this mean they knew who John was too? Clearly they didn’t know him, or they would have recognized him immediately.

“What makes you think that?” Mark asked, stepping so Garrett didn’t have to. “This could have very well have been done by Amanda Young, or John Kramer-”

“John Kramer is a dying cancer patient, I highly doubt he would be able to lift anyone up. And Detective Kerry is almost twice the weight of Amanda Young, so there’s no way she could have hoisted her up,” Strahm continued, cutting Mark off.

Garrett clenched his jaw at the explanation, knowing Strahm was right not only because he was the one to put Kerry up there, but also because he had pegged John and Amanda exactly.

“Also, we couldn’t find a tape recorder like usual, and there was no jigsaw piece cut out of her.”

… Shit.

Garrett had wanted out of there so bad earlier that he’d completely forgotten to leave the tape, or cut out the jigsaw piece. Mark shot him a look, and he knew he was going to be in trouble later.

It wasn’t his fault that he liked for games to be fair and that it pissed him off when they weren’t. He just couldn't stand staying there for any longer.

“Kramer was a mechanical engineer, he could have made a pulley system, and both of them are only human, they could have simply forgotten-” Mark offered, only to be cut off once again.

“Jigsaw doesn’t ‘forget’ or make mistakes. This was someone else entirely, and I will find them.” Strahm sounded so confident, despite not knowing that he was standing right next to the man he was looking for.

“Well, that’s not my department,” Garrett spoke up, taking a few steps back to get a better look at the trap. “Don’t those mechanisms look like wings? It’s one of the few times a function of a trap has been both aesthetic and actually useful. I imagine they were closed when she was strapped in, and then they opened when time ran out, thus ripping out her ribs. What a way to go.”

He was technically talking to Mark as he explained the trap, but both of them knew he was saying it for everyone else, so it would seem more believable. It seemed to be working, because now someone was checking out the ‘wings’.

Strahm, however, clearly did not like him. Before the agent got the chance to start questioning Garrett though, he looked over at Mark. “Y’all got the pictures, right? We should probably get out of the way of the CSIs.”

Mark nodded at that, glancing back up at Strahm one last time. “I think it’d also be smart to get Officer Rigg out of here. If you need me when you get back to the precinct, we’ll be in my office.”

He put a hand on Garrett’s shoulder, a gesture he leaned into as much as possible, before gesturing for Rigg to follow them out and away from the body. Of course, they split up from the officer once outside, as well as going to their own cars with the silent promise that they’d talk at the precinct.

---

“You forgot to leave the tape AND the jigsaw piece?” Mark was apparently not giving Garrett a chance to recover, tearing into him the second the office door was closed. “You’ve been at this longer than I have, and yet here we are.”

“The game was rigged,” Garrett quickly replied in a vague attempt to defend himself. “I was rigged and I didn’t know and I don’t like it when games are unfair so I freaked out and-”

Mark cut off his rambling with a large hand over his mouth, since he was starting to get a little too loud. Garrett’s first instinct was to bite, but he figured Mark had enough wounds from his inability to keep his mouth closed.

Once Mark was sure he’d be quiet, he removed his hand. “Calm down. I understand. You’re only human.”

You shouldn’t say that to someone with a god complex. Luckily, Garrett kept his mouth shut.

“You should probably go check on Rigg,” Garrett spoke up, grabbing the folder with the pictures of the trap off the desk so he could at least pretend to be working. “He looked pretty shaken up. You don’t want someone like that getting in the way.”

Mark sighed, knowing Garrett was right. Rigg wanted to save everyone, and that would get in the way. “Right. You stay in here, I don’t want you wandering and getting lost.”

“Wow, so much faith in me,” Garrett teased, rolling his eyes before pulling Mark down into a kiss. He’d talk to him about the polyamory thing later, it wasn’t really appropriate here.

“Just stay put,” Mark reiterated as they pulled back, leaving one last kiss on the top of Garrett’s head before leaving the office, leaving him to his own devices.

… Yeah he actually didn’t want to get into any more trouble, so he sat down in one of the chairs in front of the desk and opened up the folder, spreading the pictures out so he could “work”. Maybe he should actually get a job in this, it was kind of fun.

He was getting into the groove of things when the door opened. He looked up and behind him, expecting Mark, but was surprised to see Strahm instead. “Looking for Hoffman? Last I heard, he was dealing with Rigg.”

“He already has, he’s looking into something else right now,” Strahm replied, stepping further into the room and closing the door behind him. “I’m here to talk to you.”

Well that wasn’t good. Garrett settled back down in his seat, extremely aware of Strahm coming up behind him and placing one of his hands on the back of the chair to look down at his notes.

“You said you’ve been working the Jigsaw case since he first appeared, but I couldn’t find any record of you in the files. Care to explain?” Strahm asked after a tense moment of silence, but Garrett already had a response.

“I’m not employed by the precinct. The only person I officially work with is Detective Hoffman, so there’s no need to mention me. Besides, it’s not like I have a huge job, I just look at the traps and tell him what happened,” Garrett answered, humming softly as he continued his sketch of the Angel Trap.

So funny how he’d only had this fake job for like two hours and still had an excuse for everything.

“Fine, that makes sense, but-” Strahm put his hand on Garrett’s shoulder and Garrett, feral bastard that he is, reacted on pure instinct…

… And bit into Strahm’s hand.

For his credit, the agent didn’t scream, instead letting out a gasp that was somewhere in between surprised and pained. He probably didn’t want to make any louder of a sound so he didn’t cause a scene.

The problem with that was the fact that Garrett wasn’t letting go. In fact, he was sinking his teeth in even deeper.

There was blood now, Garrett could taste it, and it just made him want to stay latched on longer. Strahm was to the point of trying to pry him off while still being quiet, letting out little grunts of pain.

“I’ll fucking shoot you if you don’t let go,” he growled, but Garrett didn’t budge, knowing it was a bluff.

Fortunately for Strahm, the door opened, revealing Mark in the doorway. It took him a second to realize what was going on, but he was rushing over to the two as soon as it clicked.

At the sight of Mark, Garrett released Strahm from hold, wiping the blood off his lips with the back of his hand, only to lick it off his hand, still staring at the agent.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” he warned, finally letting go of Strahm’s gaze and instead looking up at Mark. “I think I’m gonna go home now, if that’s okay?”

“Yeah, yeah… I’ll see you later,” Mark responded, accepting the closed file Garrett handed to him and watching him head out.

Strahm was still holding his bleeding hand as he also watched Garrett leave. His face was tinted pink, which Mark found curious but wasn’t going to ask about, and blood was dripping through the gaps between his fingers.

“Let’s uh… get you patched up. I can at least get him to apologize later.”

Garrett probably wasn’t going to apologize later.

#story tag: listen closer #self ship fic #self shipping #self insert #scrap.writing #scrap.ships #s/i: garrett whitlock #mark hoffman #lawrence gordon #peter strahm #romantic: 🦿🩺#romantic: ⛓🕵️‍♂️#romantic: 🖊💧#(poly) romantic: ⛓🩺🖊#chapter 9

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supernovafeather · 3 years

Text

The Birds Of Prey (18+)

FirstOrder!Poe Dameron x f!reader (SMUT, 18+)

Warnings : Canon violence, cold-blooded killings from the reader, sexual tension due to killing, explicit smut, porn without plot, nudity, rank kink, spanking, fluff

- - - - - -

Attentive to the orders as you stare at your Commander in the eyes, you hold your helmet between your gloved hands. He insisted on sending you alone on this mission and has to give you more info.

" ... but some of them could hide in this area. So you know what to do ?"

"Of course sir. You should know pretty well that I like making things explode. If I am lucky enough I'll send you some videos. If you need something to brighten your day, just ask me" you answer with a slight grin before putting your helmet on, ready to join your TIE.

Commander Dameron smiles with a visible satisfaction, nodding shortly, deepening his features under the change of light in the hallway, his eyes never leaving your form as you walk up to your ship.

As promised, you managed to film most of the chase of the day. From the corner of your eyes, you quietly spy on his face, both admiring his handsome features and feeling proud of his impressed face. He his the best pilot in the First Order, and your direct superior. Still, he could act like a brat sometimes during missions, ignoring some orders as long as it gives him the opportunity to win. You like this. Everything is too organized here, calculated. You despise the rebels, Jedi, scavengers and other scums being a pain in the ass in this galaxy but... sometimes you just want to have fun. If you can show off a bit more than anticipated, especially under the Commander's scrutiny...

You turn fully to him when he hums in surprise when he sees how well you managed to make collide two X-Wing against each other. Even though the record is not over yet he looks up at you with a cocky face, some black curly strands of hair falling onto his forehead as he puts his legs onto the table, sitting more comfortably on his chair.

"This is one of my techniques. You learn really quick. You're the kind of girl adapting to anything, right ?" he asks with curiosity.

"It would be stupid of me to refuse to learn from you" is your answer, making his lips turn up a bit, his head turning back to the screen.

As he is distracted by the way your ship plunged suddenly to pounce on some badly damaged X-Wing without any hesitation, you admire the natural charisma emitting from him like this. He definitely looks like a brat. Yet, really serious at what he does. Anyone could see how he influences you in the decisions you take during flights. You are more ruthless than before, more impatient to get missions, more daring during battles. This man captivates many people, even though most of the men you have in mind would just deny it and say they are just impressed his guts.

A silent breath out leaves your lips as he is gritting his teeth, making his jaw more visible under his stubble. His long and thin fingers rub the area between his chin and his Adam's apple as he swallows. His gaze is fully focused on your performance, and you feel some heat invading your core as he bites his lips then the tip of his thumb.

"Impressive... really impressive I must say... this one was..." but he never continues his sentence, starting another one while staring at you. "Come over here, I need to show you something" he says with a small gesture of his hand, still lazily sitting on his chair when putting his feet back on the ground.

Curious, you walk up to him, peering down at the screen, but he pauses the video in the middle of another explosion.

"Take a seat" he simply says. But when you look around he chuckles, sitting more appropriately with a sly brightness in his eyes that you love too much. "Right here girl" he answers while patting his thighs.

Obeying like in some automatic mode, you feel your buttock flesh pressing against his legs, your cheeks heating up as your back is turned to his face. You look at the door, hoping that no one would enter to see this... scene. Appreciating his order but not wanting to press limits, you remain silent, peering down at his arm snaking around your waist.

"Good. And I thought you would be confused..." he says with a smile easy to guess. "Never stop surprising me in such a good way, it's always a huge pleasure".

"This pleasure is mine as well, sir", you reply with delight as his palm rests on your thigh. Your heart beats quicker than before, and time seems to stop as you ask a question trapped in your mind. "Why do I have to sit here, sir ? Is there anything you want to show me ?"

"Yes... this one" he says before tapping on his screen. Disappointed to see him turning his attention back to your video, you swallow hard at a small growl in his throat as your ship avoids a rebel ship, grazing a cliff before annihilating another X-Wing. "Kriff, how many died thanks to you ?" he says in a purring tone you never heard.

"Well... not enough, sadly sir" you answer in a whisper. "But I promise I'll do better next time. I can do better and I'll do it. I'll take all of them down next time. One of them escaped. I won't let him go. He won't be able to sleep tonight, that's for sure."

Warm lips leaving sloppy kisses down your neck make your breathing stop, your eyelids fluttering shut as he whispers against the goosebumps raising on your skin.

"Kriff, just keep being such a perfect girl" he seems to beg against your ear, his arm tightening its grip around your waist. You almost moan when he brings you closer to him, your buttock pressing against something hard as he sighs out of approval to this contact. "Keep telling me how you will exterminate them. Keep being so good to me" he demands before nibbing your shoulder gently.

Your shaky hands find his desk and his hip, your brain trying to process the wave of pleasure sent across your body after months of total abstinence. Your own eyes roll back behind your eyelids when you grind slowly and carefully your buttock against his crotch, his teeth leaving some marks under your nape in a pleased growl.

"I will shot them down sir. You will see and hear each explosion. They won't be able to do anything against me. I will never disappoint you sir and you know it", and you smile at his faint whimper. "Yes sir, and I will send you every recording of them. Their ships drowning in some oceans, some exploding, others crashing into each other..."

The feel of his stubble as he nuzzles your neck makes you shiver, both of his hands on either of your thighs, going up and down. He then rests his chin on your shoulder, his soft hair on your temple as you rub your head gently against it.

"Do you know how painful that is to hide a hardening cock when I have to watch your battle during briefings ? Do you know how many times you made me kriffing frustrated in the middle of boring superiors ?" he asks without waiting for any answer, one of his hands sliding between your thighs to rub against a hot spot of your pants, your body pressing even more against his chest. "This should be prohibited to send that kind of videos. Obscene. Absolutely obscene my girl. Nothing more inappropriate to send to your Commander."

You let out a pleading "sir" as he devours your neck by kissing it hungrily, his hand pressing even more between your legs. In a swift movement you end up sitting on his desk, you legs spread in front of him as he takes off your military boots, pants and panties, your hands helping him to take care of his belt then his own pants. As you are merely guided by your pulsions neither of you remove anything else. You hold his head between your hands, his stubble scratching a bit as his intense dark gaze seems to fuck your own soul. You moan as his length enters your pussy slowly.

"Sir..." you say in a confused voice as you feel his size, his smile preceding a slow and deep kiss, a warm hand resting on your nape as his tongue plays with yours. He is gentle. Affectionate ?

You relax under his care, and you can imagine his eyes rolling back when he reaches the deepest zone he can, his face turning back into one of pure seriousness, a familiar commanding tone in his voice as you are still adjusting to his presence inside you.

"Be this perfect girl for your Commander, will you ?"

You nod but it isn't enough, his hand grabbing your chin to make you look at him closer, his half-closed eyes so beautifully dressed by lust and his long eyelashes.

"Say it."

"I... I will be a perfect girl... Commander..."

He tilts his head to the side, hungrily watching your face reacting to his cock slowly leaving your vagina before entering back gently.

"No... I am your Commander... try again smart girl. Make me proud of you" he whispers.

You squeal when his cock leaves your vagina almost empty again, not filling it up again as your brain struggles to understand his order.

"Commander... I am your girl... you already know it..." you say in a weak voice, desperate as he kisses you again before resting his forehead against yours. "I am your girl... please sir... please I need you..."

Your pleadings almost get him but he grinds into you only once. A small distracted smile on his lips.

"You are my girl, and I am your Commander. Only yours. Understood ?"

You suddenly start to shake against him as what he implies hits you fully, like slapping you in the face. You keep your eyes open when he kisses your neck and leaves marks on it, your heart beating so fast that you have to breath to calm you down.

"My Commander... only mine..."

The way he slams his cock inside you once makes you bite your own hand, his face still busy against your skin. Your body is tensed, and your brain understands what Poe Dameron desires.

"I want my Commander to be proud of his girl..." makes him thrust again. "I'm yours sir..." and he thrusts once more. "Only yours" and another thrust. "Please take me my Commander..."

This time he can't stop anymore, a hand behind your head grabbing your hair as he pulls it back, making it possible for him to look at your face as he thrusts inside you. You close your eyes, your hands holding his desk tightly. You bite your lip as his fingers rub your clit quickly, causing a wave of pleasure that is stronger than you, soon making you lose any kind of self-control. You grab his top as he keeps pounding into you, his eyes never leaving yours as you struggle to keep this contact. As you clench around him he stops rubbing your clit, letting you rest your head on his shoulder, but still thrusting deep into you.

"Come on my girl. Make them hear that."

This time you want to disobey. Relationships are prohibited here. You look up at him, pleading him to not make it dangerous for you two. He kisses your forehead between two slow grindings, pressing you against the desk, his hoarse voice so hot against your lips.

"We are safe. The two best pilots. Cum loud for your Commander. Scream my name. That's an order".

Even without screaming you would alert anyone near this side of the base, the desk hitting the wall at every of his brutal thrusts as he leaves marks on your hips with his hands. The first time of your life you call him by his first name is in pure bliss, moaned against his shoulder, intimate, before getting followed several times by his rank of Commander, louder this time.

Himself just lets go, saying words in an unknown language slipping from his lips as he closes his eyes, focused on reaching his own pleasure. Maybe words from his planet. You never heard them before but they sound beautifully, mixed with lust and desperation.

Finally, you feel his seed released inside you in a few more thrusts, slower but still deep, his body pressing against your, his sweaty forehead pressed on the side of your face as he keeps mumbling words in the same language as before, his tone weaker. Once he stops you notice the way his arms are tight around you, one hand grabbing the back of your top. You let the desk go, embracing your Commander in your own arms, your brain blank as he talks back in Basic with a slight chuckle.

"Kriff. Just... kriff. I should spank you in front of everyone at the next briefing. Just to show them you are mine" he says with a tired voice, putting his hair back in place while staring at the door still closed. You take the opportunity to kiss his neck, still amazed by the sensations he created. "Keep calling me Commander, though. You don't want me to punish you, right ?"

This time you are the one chuckling, whispering a taunting "yes, but in your bed too then my Commander" at his ear, gaining an interested raised eyebrow from him. A few minutes after this you are trying to muffle your voice in his pillow, your bare buttock getting spanked by his palm under his commanding voice.

- - - - -

Thanks for reading. It is the first time I write a FirstOrder!Poe and I know it's not as dark as many other fics involving him in this role, but I hope you liked it ! :D

Like, comment and reblog if you liked !

#oscarisaac #fanfiction #science fiction #sf #star wars #poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #first order #oscar isaac

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rhysismydaddy · 4 years

Text

Dirty Daydreams (Nessian Fluff)

Cassian groaned against her neck, the sound snapping something deep inside of her. She reached up to pull his head up, needing to see him. Golden eyes, the eyes she loved so much, met hers and she smiled up at him.

Calloused hands gripped her hips, pushing into her and making her back arch-

Nesta’s eyes shot open, gulping down air and almost falling out of the bed as she violently tore herself from the dream. She threw a pillow at the wall in frustration, barely resisting the urge to scream her head off.

That damn bastard was really trying to get himself killed.

She shut her eyes, but images of his tan skin, wide smile, and sinful lips kept badgering her, so she threw the covers back and stormed across the room to lock her door.

Then she glanced at the open window.

After locking it--and giving the night sky a foul gesture for good measure--she crawled back into bed and sighed, begging the gods for just one good night sleep.

Just one.

Ever since he’d arrived in the House of Wind four days ago, Cassian had been plaguing her dreams. And daydreams.

She knew what he was doing.

Rhysand had told her certain people could get into your mind, and apparently Cassian was one of those people. The prick thought it was funny to use whatever demonic skills he possessed to send dirty images to her brain at all points during the day and night.

Seriously.

Yesterday they’d been ignoring each other in the library when she’d imagined throwing her book down, going to where he’d sat at the desk, and kissing him senseless.

The day before that, she’d been absolutely convinced she was in bed with him, watching the morning sunlight dance across his chest. Not listening to him talk about the army’s preparations for winter.

It was driving her absolutely insane, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of asking him to stop. She would never let him know he’d gotten under her skin.

So far, she thought she’d remained perfectly unbothered, even though she had homicidal thoughts every time he asked if she was okay, voice teasing and knowing.

Just one night, she pleaded.

Nesta closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to imagine steel gates around her mind. Steel strong enough to keep even the most resilient winged beasts out.

The next morning, Nesta cursed those damn gates.

Apparently, there was a hole in them or something because Cassian had wormed his way into her mind enough to torment her all night long.

She’d awoken at dawn, body aching with lust, ready to light him on fire.

Nesta threw on a dressing gown and stomped down to breakfast, trying to school her face into neutrality despite the violence coursing through her blood.

It didn’t matter, because as soon as she walked into the dining room, Cassian’s head snapped up, nostrils flaring as he took in her scent.

Damn.

She’d forgotten about that.

“Sexy dreams, Nesta?”

I’m going to stab him with a knife.

She sat across from him at the table and grabbed a piece of bacon off his plate. “Nope.”

His curly hair fell in his face as he tilted his head to the side. “Interesting. You smell nice.”

Make that a rusty knife.

“Well, as usual, you smell like a rotten fish. I don’t know how I ever put up with it.”

Cassian smiled like he always did when she insulted him, as if he knew it was all a lie. “You’re in a wonderful mood today.”

Nesta just rolled her eyes and scooped some fruit onto her plate.

She was stabbing a piece of melon, watching him somehow shove more food in his fat mouth than anyone she’d ever seen, when she thought about how easy it would be to crawl across the table into his lap.

She’d press her mouth to his, pull his hair, drive him crazy like he did her. Cassian would give her that bright smile she loved, happy he’d finally won their little game, and wrap his arms around her, mouth finding its way to her neck-

A thud sounded through the room as Nesta’s head fell back against her chair.

Cassian laughed. “What in the world were you thinking about over there?”

“That’s it!” she yelled, not able to keep her cool any longer. “You are so fucking annoying! Get out of my head!”

She slammed her fist down into the table, making all the plates shake.

His dark eyebrows pinched together in fake confusion. “What?”

“Get out of my head! Stop sending me these delusional, disgusting thoughts, or I’m going to gut you, I swear-”

“Wait, wait, wait. What? You think I’m...” Realization spread over his face, and his eyes lit up as he smiled happily. “Nesta, baby, I’m not a Daemati. Rhys and Feyre are the only ones I know.”

Everything inside her came crashing to a halt. Her rage turned towards confusion, mind and body not wanting to accept what she’d just heard.

What?

He wasn’t... he couldn’t... what?

Her face caught fire as a blush worked its way over her entire body, and Nesta dug her fingers into her thighs as a horrible, repugnant understanding formed. No one had been messing with her.

Except herself.

Every single dream and thought she’d had... they’d been hers.

“So what, exactly, were you daydreaming about?” Cassian asked, smile so bright, so satisfied it almost blinded her.

Nesta finally gave in to her impulses and shot out of her chair so fast it flipped over. She didn’t care, though; she was already half-way out of the room.

She had to get away from him. She was many things, but she’d never allow herself to break down in front of him.

She sprinted down the hallway to her room, humiliation pushing at her to go faster, faster, faster.

A dark shape over her head caught her attention, then Cassian was slamming to a landing in front of her, wings spread wide to block the entire hallway. “Stop running from me.”

Sliding to a halt in her silk slippers, she realized she’d never be able to outrun him.

Stupid, stupid wings.

Nesta looked for any other way out of this conversation, attention snagging on the open window.

If she could just-

“You try to jump out of that window, Nesta, and I swear I’ll wring your pretty little neck.”

She rolled her eyes, trying not to look like that’s exactly what she’d been planning.

“Now. Tell me what you’ve been dreaming about.”

Nope. Never. “Window it is, then.”

He growled at her, and she had to repress a laugh.

The smile fell off her face as he just crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. Waiting.

“Why does it matter, Cassian?”

He looked at her incredulously, beautiful eyes holding a mixture of anger, happiness, frustration, and an emotion she didn’t want to consider.

“Why does it matter?” he shouted at her, throwing his hands up in defeat. “I swear, Nesta, you’re so dense sometimes. It matters because I’ve been trying to get you to fall in love with me for almost a year, and you’re finally letting it happen. Now what the hell were the dreams like?”

She should respond, should do something besides gape at him, jaw swinging in the breeze.

He’d been trying to... he... “You love me?”

Her voice was so small and quiet, but he heard her perfectly.

Hands on his hips, he rolled his eyes and said, “I tell you I love you at least once a day, dumbass.”

True, but- “That’s different. You’re always teasing me.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “I never tease you about that. But stop trying to change the subject, Nesta. Tell me about the dreams.”

A dog with a bone.

“Um.” Her face was a thousand degrees of embarrassment as she gave in and said, “They aren’t all sex dreams, so don’t even start. Sometimes we just dance, or go on dates, or wake up together, or kiss- stop looking at me like that!”

“Like what?” he asked, biting a lip to keep the smile at bay.

“Like a kid of Yuelemas.” She pushed against his shoulder and stomped by him. “This doesn’t change anything. Just because my brain’s demented doesn’t mean things are different between us. I still hate you.”

They both knew it was a lie.

Cassian, prick he was, called her on it. “No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do.”

She was almost to her room, the blessed solitary confinement mere feet away.

“I can prove that you don’t.”

Nesta snorted, unable to help it. “Cassian, you’re so full of shit. You cannot possibly-”

He grabbed her wrist and turned her back around, and before she could so much as blink, he was kissing her.

Nesta stood, unmoving, as her brain tried desperately to catch up.

All her dreams, all her fantasies, couldn’t compare to this. Nothing could.

Cassian’s lips were soft and persistent against hers, hands rough as they grabbed her waist and pulled her against him.

He whispered her name, and she finally snapped back into her body and realized what was happening.

She pushed out the thoughts of doubt and embarrassment and nervousness and just did what she wanted for once.

Her arms wound around his neck, and she pulled herself up closer to him, kissing him deeper. His tongue slid into her mouth, and she lost her mind at how he tasted.

Caramel, salt, wind, Cassian.

He tugged on her lip with his teeth, smiled, and pulled back.

“See? You don’t hate me, baby,” he laughed, pressing kisses to her forehead, temple, cheek, chin, everywhere.

She’d never seen him this happy. Never felt this amount of joy in herself, either.

Laughter bubbled out of her. “Okay. Fine. I don’t hate you.”

“You love me.”

He was a cocky bastard, wasn’t he? But... she thought back on all the times he’d been there for her, putting up with her when no one else wanted to.

All the dreams she’d had of them just being together came crashing together, and she realized she wanted that. Wanted that life with him.

Nesta pulled on his hair to stop the assault of kisses, looking into his eyes. “Yeah. I do.”

Cassian picked her up and spun her around, both of them laughing like maniacs. “And it only took a year of flying all the way up here to bug you.”

Once she was set back on her feet, she leaned into him, trying to memorize the feel of his body against hers. “Take me on a date tonight.”

“It’ll be just like your dream,” he smirked, kissing the tip of her nose. “Dancing and drinking and good food.”

She knew where he was going, but she didn’t even care as he teased, “Then whatever you dreamed about that had you smelling like that this morning.”

“You’re a presumptuous little asshole. I don’t think I’ll sleep with you. Ever.”

A finger on her chin brought her face up to his. “Liar,” he whispered, their lips not an inch apart.

“Maybe.”

“Say it again,” he murmured onto her jaw, fingers moving to play in her hair.

Nesta rolled her eyes, cupped his face with her hands, and finally told him the words she’d repressed since she first saw him. “I love you, Cassian.”

______________________________________________________________

Ending’s cheesy as shit, sorry. Not really.

@musicmaam @b00kworm @bamchickawowow @aesthetics-11 @a-bit-of-a-cactus

#cassian #nesta #nessian #nessian fanfiction #nesta archeron #acotar #acowar #acofas #acomaf #a court of mist and fury #a court of thorns and roses #a court of wings and ruin #a court of frost and starlight #acotar fanfiction

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