#(how you doing over there ger bear not good?)

[wren-of-the-woods]

For "Give me a twirl, honey." please 😌

Thank you very much for the prompt!! This was a delight to write. Many thanks to @wians for beta-ing! <3

Geraskier fluff, 2k. Also on AO3!

~

It all started at that damned ball. 

Jaskier’s set was over. The other musicians were playing a slow, romantic song, as was appropriate for a duke and duchess’ anniversary. All the guests were finding their partners of choice and asking them to dance. Words like “darling,” “sweetheart,” “lovely,” and “sugarplum” floated around Jaskier as he slowly made his way through the crowd to Geralt. 

A few weeks ago, he and Geralt finally confessed their feelings to each other. They had been trying to work out how to navigate this new phase of their relationship ever since. The evening was romantic. Suddenly, Jaskier wanted nothing more than to share as sappy a moment with Geralt as everyone else seemed to be having with their partners.

He found Geralt in the crowd and smiled brightly to mask his slight nerves. Geralt gave him a tiny, fond smile in return and handed him a glass of wine which Jaskier took with delight. After downing the glass, he gave Geralt a winning smile and gestured to the dance floor. 

“Give me a twirl, honey?”

Geralt raised an eyebrow at him, frowning a little. “Honey?”

Jaskier shrugged, a little self-conscious. “I thought it sounded sweet. Your eyes look like honey sometimes.”

“No, they don’t.”

“How would you know that?”

“Honey is brown. My eyes are yellow.”

Jaskier gasped in mock outrage. “Honey isn’t brown!”

Geralt shrugged. “The name feels overused, anyway.”

“Fine.”

Geralt had been called far too many ugly names over the years. He deserved to be called sweet things by his lover. All Jaskier had to do was figure out the perfect endearment.

In other words: Project Pet Names was go.

~~~

“Hello, sweetling,” Jaskier said as he slid onto a log next to Geralt at their camp.

Geralt raised an eyebrow. Jaskier blushed a little. They fell into awkward silence. 

~~~

“Pass me my notebook, darling,” Jaskier said in their shared room at the inn.

Geralt passed the notebook. He did not react to the name. 

~~~

“There you are, my lovely!” Jaskier shouted from across a marketplace.

Geralt didn’t even notice he was being addressed. 

“How on earth did you not realize I was talking to you?” Jaskier groused later. 

“You call everyone things like that. It could have been a barmaid you had just met, for all I knew. Of course I didn’t know you were talking to me.”

Jaskier sighed, but he saw Geralt’s point.

This was going nowhere. His attempts so far were an obvious failure. He was starting to feel rather desperate.

He would just have to be more creative. 

~~~

"Hey, Ger-bear!"

Geralt stared at him, unimpressed.

~~~

“How are you, sweet cheeks?”

Geralt’s stare was more bewildered this time. Jaskier wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

~~~

"What do you think, honey bunny?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

~~~

“Hello, my sweet witcher-muffin!”

“This is getting ridiculous.”

“I take it I shouldn’t try ‘my little cabbage,’ then?”

“Absolutely not.”

“How about snooky ookums?” 

“I will leave you on this roadside and never return.”

“Yeah, yeah. I love you too.”

Geralt flicked his nose hard, and Jaskier lost the train of their conversation while sputtering loudly and subsequently having to catch up to Roach. 

~~~

"I've been trying to think of things he likes," Jaskier explained miserably to the vaguely sympathetic barmaid while Geralt was off on a hunt. "Unfortunately, half of it has to do with monster hunting or other useless things and the other half I've already tried."

"What's his favorite monster?" asked the barmaid absently. "You could use that."

"I might try."

~~~

"Well, if it isn't my very favorite-easily lopped head of a drowner for which the alderman is paying extra!"

Geralt stared at him. "What?"

"Um. Never mind."

~~~

Things shifted when they visited Kaer Morhen. Jaskier, obviously, was not as comfortable experimenting in front of Geralt’s family (especially Lambert) as he was in towns they were passing through. Despite the difficulties, though, he refused to pause his project. He listened intently to how Geralt’s family referred to him, just in case it revealed anything useful. For the most part, it was only his name, “Wolf,” and the occasional affectionate insult. Then, one evening, something extremely interesting occurred. 

Geralt had been complaining about a noble and his knights that he had encountered that year. Lambert got that mischievous glint in his eyes that almost always meant trouble. 

“That’s rich coming from you, Geralt Roger Eric—”

Geralt turned on Lambert with a deadly glare. The dinner knife in his hand suddenly seemed much more threatening. “If you finish that sentence, you will regret it.”

Lambert raised his hands in mock surrender, though he did not look at all repentant. The conversation moved on. Jaskier did not forget. 

That night, after he and Geralt had returned to their shared room, he finally had the chance to corner Geralt and ask.

“What was that about?”

Geralt winced, looking rather trapped. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Jaskier raised an eyebrow. “Geralt Roger Eric?”

Geralt grimaced. “It doesn’t matter. It was a long time ago.”

“I should hope you know me well enough to realize that I am not going to let this go until you tell me.”

Geralt was silent for a long moment, then sighed, defeated. “It was the name I first wanted to use on the Path.”

Jaskier’s eyes widened. “Geralt Roger Eric?”

Geralt closed his eyes. His next words were strained. “It was Geralt Roger Eric du Haute-Bellegarde.”

Jaskier stared at him for a long moment in silence. Geralt refused to meet his eyes. 

“What?” Jaskier managed.

“I thought it sounded knightly,” mumbled Geralt. 

“Oh! Well, I suppose it does. Why didn’t you use it?”

“Vesemir told me it was too ridiculous.”

“Oh,” Jaskier said again, thoughtful. “Did you agree?”

“I didn’t see it at the time, but I agree now.”

Jaskier frowned. “So at the time, you still wanted to use the name.”

“I was young. I didn’t know better.”

“That’s not the point! The point is that they didn’t let you!”

Geralt frowned at him. “Why are you upset about this?”

“You chose a name and were refused. They took that from you. You deserve the chance to choose something so important as a name, after all the choices you didn’t get to make.”

“It was a stupid name, Jaskier.”

“Maybe, but you deserved to be stupid.”

“Stupidity gets witchers killed.”

Jaskier threw his hands up in the air. “I changed my name to fucking ‘Buttercup’ of all things and I’ve never regretted it. I like it. Why can’t you change your name to sound more knightly? You certainly act knightly enough to merit it!” 

“So? Are you going to start calling me by a ridiculous name now to make up for what happened sixty years ago?”

“I very well might!” 

~~~

Jaskier stuck to his resolution. He never used the name in public, because he had a feeling Geralt might combust and because he didn’t want to give Lambert more ammunition than he already had, but he took to calling Geralt by some part or variant of Geralt Roger Eric du Haute-Bellegarde on a fairly regular basis. Geralt tended to look flustered when he did so. Jaskier had yet to determine if this was because he liked it or because he was horribly embarrassed. 

He stuck to it for three weeks before Geralt finally asked him to stop.

"Why, dear heart?"

“I’m not that person anymore.”

“You deserved the chance to be that person.”

“I don’t need to be him anymore.”

“Do you want to be him?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

“Oh.” Jaskier could understand that, however reluctantly. “That’s fine. I’ll stop.”

“You don’t have to stop entirely. Just… not all the time.”

“All right.” 

Jaskier would respect Geralt’s wishes. The point of a special pet name would be to make him happy, after all. Unfortunately, Geralt’s chosen name had been Jaskier’s last idea. He’d already tried every nickname, endearment, or interesting epithet that he could think of. 

“What should I call you, then?” asked Jaskier. His voice sounded significantly more vulnerable than he would have liked. 

“What?”

“I’ve been trying to think of good things to call you for the last month and I haven’t found anything. I’m a bard. I love you with everything I am. I should be able to do better.”

Geralt deserved good things. Jaskier’s project was failing. He should be able to do better for Geralt. 

Some of his thoughts must have shown on his face, because Geralt softened immediately. He did not speak, but Jaskier could tell it was the kind of silence that meant he was gathering his thoughts.

“I used to hate my name,” Geralt said eventually. “It didn’t feel like it was really mine for a very long time. Most don’t use it anyway. I have many epithets. Wolf, Butcher, Witcher… none of them are really a name. I was almost glad not to be called ‘Geralt,’ for a while, but then you came along.” He looked Jaskier in the eye, expression startlingly vulnerable. “I like how you say my name. You say it musically, like it’s something important. Significant. Worth remembering. I… like that.” Gently, tenderly, he took Jaskier’s hand. “I’ll always love anything you call me, but my name is enough to make me happy.”

Jaskier’s eyes felt rather wet. He blinked to clear them. Geralt’s expression was startlingly earnest. His hand was very warm where it still held Jaskier’s. 

“Oh,” Jaskier managed. 

Geralt’s brows furrowed a little. “Is that all right?”

Jaskier blinked. Geralt looked at him attentively, awaiting his judgment. Jaskier used Geralt’s hand to pull him closer and into a tight hug.

“Of course it’s all right, you ridiculous man.”

Geralt barely hesitated before hugging Jaskier back, and Jaskier spared a moment to feel proud of his witcher for how much he’d grown. 

“Are you sure?” said Geralt. “I don’t want to spoil your notions of romance.”

“All I want is for you to be happy,” said Jaskier. “If nicknames aren’t the way to do that, I can live with it.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to do whatever makes you feel good.” Jaskier pulled back a little to look Geralt in the eyes. He smiled a little. “Though I can’t promise I won’t use silly endearments occasionally.”

Geralt chuckled. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

~~~

For the most part, Jaskier let Project Pet Names lie. It had served its purpose. Every now and then, of course, he couldn’t help but use one of the various ridiculous endearments he came up with. Most of the time, though, the way Geralt smiled when Jaskier said his name with all the love he could muster was more than enough for both of them. Geralt knew he was loved. Jaskier was happy. 

Still, when Jaskier first sang his song about a brave knight named Roger Eric du Haute-Bellegarde (it was a nightmare to fit into any sort of meter, but great things were possible in the name of true love), he could have sworn he saw Geralt blush. 

They both spent the evening smiling. 

~~~

Seven months later, Geralt and Jaskier attended another ball. The patrons were slightly less rich and so the event was rather less fancy, which suited both of them perfectly. Just like the previous time, the couple who owned the mansion were celebrating an anniversary, and nearly the same romantic songs were being played. 

This time, though, Jaskier approached Geralt with no trace of nervousness or uncertainty. Jaskier simply gave Geralt a grin and took his hand, smiling impossibly brighter as Geralt pressed a kiss to his forehead. 

Though the couples around them were exchanging romantic words of their own, Jaskier paid them no mind. His own romance was more than enough to keep him occupied. 

He looked up at his witcher with a soft smile. 

“C’mon, Geralt.” He holds out a hand. “Give me a twirl.”

Geralt took his hand easily. “Of course.”

It was the best dance Jaskier could remember.

~~~

(“I do think your knightly name could come in handy sometime, Geralt.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well, Geralt Roger Eric Pankratz has a certain ring to it.”

“Oh.”

They kissed for a very, very long time.)

#geraskier #geralt #jaskier #the witcher #geralt x jaskier #the witcher fanfiction #wren writes #samstree #thank you again for the prompt! it was very fun to think about while i was gone #<3 #when does this take place? what is its relationship to canon? *shrug* #it's fluffy and that's all that matters

[ichika27]

OnS Chapter 131

Okay, not gonna lie, I was too lazy and then stuff happened and I ended up having to read this chapter in another site cause I was too late to read it in mangaplus. (;-;)

Yuu-chan and Mika are hunting bears to eat. I don't know how to feel about this at all since it feels weird to think about people eating bears but I'm just gonna ignore it.

They took down 3 bears, by the way.

While the two are getting ready to cook, they reminisce on the past on the last day Mika was human. Specifically, the day of their failed escape from Sanguinem. Mika wasn't at dinner time with them, if you guys remember, as he was at Ferid's gathering items and so they ate without him.

Yuu-chan tells him the kids wished that Mika was there to enjoy the food with them and Mika teases him that of course the others wouldn't enjoy it as much without the main character lol.

Mika is surprisingly being optimistic now, as Yuu-chan have noticed. He says once they bring the kids back to life and he's back to being human they can all eat curry together again.

Yuu-chan asks for help in butchering the meat and Mika declines as he has some strategizing to do haha.

The two talk over dinner about what they know. Their plan is to get all the sinful keys and bring back to life angel Mikaela. Guren and Ferid have the same plans but instead, Guren just wants to just bring everyone else back except Mikaela.

lol I needed to save this screenshot here. They're wondering what Ferid's plan is and Yuu-chan says nobody knows what goes on in Ferid's head and it might be something really weird. XD

They also discuss the reality of the situation that the Mikaela that Guren wants to keep dead is actually Yuu-chan cause he and homonculus Yuu just switched places before. It means if Guren wins, Yuu-chan might have to die.

With those information in mind, things have changed. Mika is no lon ger hesitant about what he should do and no longer thinking of sacrificing himself since the one the others need to sacrifice is actually Yuu-chan. Mika says he doesn't really care about anything else except protecting Yuu-chan so it's all good.

Mika has become the happy, not-giving-up guy now between the two of them and the one who has to reassure Yuu-chan that he'd be protecting him. Previously, this was Yuu-chan's attitude in convincing Mika back when they didn't know the truth. Mika is acting more like himself when he was a kid.

Mika was surprised Yuu-chan didn't offer to sacrifice himself and Yuu-chan replies that he's still confused about which of them is which. They also noticed that angel Mikaela was smart back then but Yuu-chan is-

Yuu-chan cuts of Mika and says he's smarter now. Mika sacrcastically agreed lol. Come on, we all know he lost braincells when he locked away his memories as angel Mikaela but to be fair, he was in a hurry at the time and probably didn't have enough time to keep some important stuff.

The confusion keeps going and so are these two's identity crisis. Who is who and which one dies when they finally get their goal? Is Yuu-chan gonna keep being himself once he's back to being angel Mikaela? Yuu-chan doesn't mind but Mika doesn't want to lose his Yuu-chan. And Yuu-chan wouldn't want Mika to disappear either if it's the other way around.

The First Progenitor's goal is to bring all of the angels back. Guren's goal is to bring all of humanity back. Angel Mikaela's goal was to save the First Progenitor which means they have to help the guy with his goal as well. And it would all end with someone getting punished by God.

Yuu-chan's new goal: not let that happen. Yes, like an rpg protagonist, he'd be opposing God now.

Of course, Mika has to get the reassurance that Yuu-chan is counting himself in the people he's planning to save. Yuu-chan says he's not going to sacrifice himself and he knows Mika could find a way to make things work out.

It'd be very hypocritical of Yuu-chan if he decides to die for everyone's sake when several chapter ago, he's the one trying to convince Mika to not do that exact thing.

Anyways, the two of them make a promise to each other that no matter what happens, neither of them would sacrifice themselves for everyone else. At least, Yuu-chan is making it sound like that. He's letting Mika do all the talking and when it comes to his part in making the promise, he changes subjects and Mika doesn't notice...

Yuu-chan asks if Mika could come up with a plan since all of their enemies are pretty smart: there's Guren, Mahiru, Shika Madu, Saito and Ferid (I'm surprised they knew exactly which other people are leading their own little operation). Mika says it's fine since they have someone smart on their side, too! And Yuu-chan says that would be him lol.

Since angel Mika gave his memories to homonculus Yuu to keep up the ruse, he probably also gave away his braincells. Yuu-chan should just accept that Mika has them now lol.

They know that right now, they're the only two who knows of the switch. They need to sacrifice angel Mikaela and none of them knows that Yuu-chan is the real one. Mika and Yuu-chan have to use this to their advantage.

What would the first part of their plan be, you ask? Going to the Demon Army HQ to talk to Saito, it seems.

______

Holy shit what the fuck is happening in the end there? Are they collaborating? Yuu-chan and Mika's goal have a bit more in common with Saito's and the Progenitor team so this kinda makes sense? They plan to save humanity, kill all vampires (the progenitors just want to die right now after all), and not let Shika Madu do exactly as he pleases.

I am excited to see where this would be going. Mika and Yuu-chan don't plan on letting anyone know the truth after all.

Aaaah!! Mika's acting like his happy and mischevious kid self again. His depression seem to have left since he found out that he's not the real angel Mikaela and therefore not the reason all of this shit is happening. Yuu-chan on the other hand doesn't smile as much anymore. Kind of sad this is how things are going as I want both of them to be happy. I'm glad they still have their silly moments and stupid banter though. They're so cute!

Knowing the switch doesn't confuse me but these two and their discussion made things seem so complicated. I'm now feeling half as confused as I was when I watched Patema Inverted and couldn't tell which is up and down anymore hahaha.

Yuu-chan's goal was to bring back everyone who died and then he adds bringing Mika back to life as a human, and then saving everyone, and now he's fighting God. It's escalating! It sounds so ridiculous but this is how it be. Yuu-chan is not Yuu-chan if he doesn't aim for a miracle.

Angel Mika's switch with Homonculus Yuu makes Yuu-chan and Mika's personalities feel trippy. The happy and smart angel Mika locked his memories away and sort of gave a copy of them to homonculus Yuu so they could properly act out their new roles. Purposely reincarnated to who they are now, Mika as a child was happy and smart and you really would think he's the real angel. The failed escape happens and Mika as a vampire is just quietly observing things and just wants to be with Yuu - just like how his past self as a homunculus was. Now that the truth is known, he's back to having the persoanlity of hius younger self which is a sort of copy of the real angel Mika's personality.

Putting all that in text made me understand why those two are confused.

Excited for the next chapter! I'm so glad there's another site I could read these on and they have the chapters I could backread as well! I'm still gonna read the new chapters in mangaplus to support the original creators and official release but at least I don't have to worry about missing anything just in case something happens and I miss a month.

#owari no seraph #seraph of the end #mikayuu #sana_post

[keelt9]

Part 3| El pasado en el presente

Happy new year everyone! I hope this year make your dreams come true. I especially want to thank everyone who has supported my little story, it was a dream I had for several years and I am very grateful for the love they show her.

I'm new to this but I promise to give my best effort and improve day by day.

Thanks a lot. Love you. &lt;3

*****

The italics parts will be old memories.

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

The air was hot, it was clearly the beginning of May. She was in the back garden just lying in the grass and let the wind run through her face, she knew a hard day was coming, saying goodbye isn’t easy and even less when all the people that you love are involved.

She just graduated from middle school; her grandma was a star in her sky, but all the stars eventually turn off even if they are the brightest. For a moment she forgot about the dark attire she was wearing and the crowd inside her grandma’s house for saying goodbye to an amazing person.

“You know, this is not the end” She didn’t feel the heavy tear that was running through her face as she tried to sit straight and looked at his loyal friend. She hated the fact that the last time she’ll saw him was like this, all black and without a single thing of happiness. His name was Mateo, more often than not hidden in the day, only blooming at night, like Nottingham Catchfly.

“You’re going to be fine, and I’ll be right here. She wouldn’t let anyone who she didn’t fully trust take you away,” He sat beside her, far enough to give her space but close enough to feel how tense she was, “I’m not worried about them, I know them… it’s just… what if my past is heavier than I can imagine, how can I say goodbye to this?” 

Mateo didn´t know Alex’s parents, she and her sister had been raised by their grandmother since she was 3. And now 4 years later, he and his computer will become best friends, everything just to keep in touch with her; the idea of losing his best friend, and maybe lose the connection they have terrify him.

He could feel the tension that started to form by the way she interlocks her fingers, like the absence of something to hold became hard to bear. “I… I´m… please, even if I’m gone, promise me that we will find the way to keep in touch. I’m thankful for a second chance, yet I feel that maybe I lost everything that give me peace… all the good” He held her hand and squeezed so tight, he saw that tears started to slip along her check and before one of them could process any type of information, he gives her a little kiss in her check.

“Everyone and everything disappear… My peace…” They were sitting in a park, one beside the other and Alex couldn´t help but bring that memories back, over and over again. She could feel the oppression in her chest and the anger in her heart.

The leaves start to tint with a different color and the wind, this time, it was really refreshing “I know… but… you need to move on and be with the people who loves you since you were just a tiny bean.” If only he knew…

Three days were enough to turn things upside down. When Mateo and his family arrived from a little trip; the block was already surrounded, a lot of squad cars were along the street, cops appeared from every corner of the house. It wasn’t a secret that Alex’s grandmother had truly dark secrets, but no one could imagine that her death would bring her many of them to the light. The colonial house was confiscated, and Alex’s safe place crumbled down. They knew Alex would call as soon as she could and they knew what they had to do, all the whole state was submerged in a steady war, they needed to leave, at least for a while.

The next months were a nightmare, he and his family, unexpectedly, needed to move for his father’s work to another country, she said she would call to ger grandmother’s house so they would come but it was another broken hope. All from that house was taken, nothing left. And in 3 moths the were equally gone, no letter, no messages just an empty heart.

She really wanted to tell him everything but that was just a distant wish, so she resumed 8 years of her life in “My family died when I was 15.” He froze, that was totally unexpected but before he could offer his condolences, she changed the subject so quickly. He thought the loss of her family was a painful and open wound, so he didn’t insist, instead he replied to her question.

“How you… What brings you to Virginia?” He gives her a wide smile, but she didn’t notice because her sight was lost in the trees. “Even if you don’t believe it, I graduated.” He tried to keep a calm atmosphere, but it wasn’t that simple. “I came to a congress, I’m a doctor, oncologist to be more exact.” He looked at her again, but she kept her head up looking at some point in the distance.

“Congratulations, how is your family?” She always had an especial affection for them, in those dark days they were beams of sunshine. “Well… Sam is great, she’s married and now she lives in Argentina, and my parents are still living in Mexico, in a few words, we keep going…” Finally, they caught each other’s eyes, and it felt like they were the same little kids sitting in the back yard talking about everything and nothing at the same time.

2, 3, 4 and 5 hours passed until her present hit her again, it was sunset when her phone rang. “I’m sorry I have to answer” She got up and walked away a few steps.

“Are you ok?” Hotch didn’t sound angry, just concerned.

“Yeah, sorry, I found a friend and…I lost the track of time…”

He interrupted her with a softer tone “It’s all right, I just worried because I called Emily and you weren’t there, “Should we wait for you for dinner?”

Shit, now she felt like they needed an explanation, but she can’t give it to them. “Yes, I’m on my way.” She answered. Both said their goodbyes and hung up.

“I must go…I’m sorry.” She said to him.

He got up with his hands in his pockets and she knew immediately what he was about to ask, “Can I call you and meet again?”

He looked at her eyes and instead of feeling that range of the afternoon he found curiosity, that made his heart go faster and louder. He was sure if he’d come closer to Alex could hear it and with a little smile her answer came “Why not?” 

She gave him her personal card, hoping that they can keep in touch and maybe tell him her story, the real one.

He didn’t push her but that didn’t mean that he understood how and what happened. Meanwhile, he looked as she walked away, and lot of questions came to his mind. How was she adopted in USA and not in Mexico? Why didn’t she try to look for them? What happened in 17 years? Why her name wasn’t the same he knew?

The dinner past with all discretion for Jack, he was exhausted and over the moon with the day he passed with Hotch. His big smile, and that little habit he had of stop eating every time he remembered a new thing made Alex felt at ease.

“You should have seen him sis, he, at this age can still play soccer like… I bet in his 20´s.”

Hotch gave Jack his classic smile and said, “I’m in better shape, but you should go to rest, we all took a day off but tomorrow is Thursday and the school and work will be waiting for us.”

Jack rolled his eyes but agreed, he hugged Alex and gave her a kiss in her check. “You should come with us the next time; we really missed you.” She was afraid that if she’d answer her voice will break, so she just hugged him back and tossed his hair.

They waited until they heard his door close and without even ask, Alex told him everything. The breakfast, the strange shopping, and her meeting with her past; Hotch only listened to her. No expression visible just listening to her like he always does, until she can ask for help. No pressure, just patience, only if she’d need it.

“I made a mistake, and no, it’s not a question.” Looking at her glass of wine she let her voice waved for a second, “It’s just…He is my best friend, well when I was little, I can´t just erase the good, like I think I did with the bad…Just tell me if what I’ve done put you and Jack in risk and I…”

Before she could finish Hotch interrupted her, he laid his hand on her shoulder, “I don’t know, tomorrow I´m going to ask the last state of you in your country and if anything put YOU or us in hazard, I would tell you, ok? I won’t hide anything, I promise”

For the first time in that night, Alex looked at his eyes and smiled.

*

“Spence? Are you ok?” He backed from wherever his mind was.

“Yeah, sorry it´s just I’m little disperse, can you repeat the last part? Please.”

He rubbed his eyes and tried to focus again, and he finally achieved it. He was happy that even at the distance both kept working in their relationship and the little fights didn’t cloud their sky. After he hung up the phone, he couldn’t help but ask himself if leaving her alone and didn’t even call her, just for make sure if she is ok, was the right thing; and before the doubt tormented his mind, he took a shower and went to sleep. For experience, he knew that letting your mind travel and get lost in your own thoughts was a dangerous weapon, even in the safest circumstances.

#spencer reid fic #spence reid angst #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid #aaron hotchner #jack hotchner #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #fic

[thefanficmonster]

Caught Red-handed

Corpse Husband x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Swearing, Struggling with migraines 

Genre: Fluff, Comfort, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Having suffered from migraines all their life, Y/N knows better than to give them much attention or let them hinder their work too much. However, their boyfriend is a lot more worried than they are and has taken it as his personal duty to ease their pain as much as he possibly can. 

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! Thank you so much for your request, I’m so sorry it has taken me so long to get to it, write and post it, but here it finally is and I hope you come across it and read it! I’ve never experienced migraines nor have I known someone who has so if I’ve misrepresented or written any misinformation, anyone who catches it, feel free to let me know either in the comments or in my inbox/messages! Love, Vy ❤

The first time I got a headache was in the middle of math class in eighth grade. I remember it so distinctly because I had never before experienced such sudden and such intense pain. I got to go home early that day and spent a good portion of the day trying to sleep it off but to no avail.

Since then I’ve grown used to having to deal with a pain so strong it renders me unable to function for a whole day about two times a month. Sometimes, I even try to be stubborn with it - I try to push through as much work as I can despite the migraine, but that never works out for a long time considering it ends up crippling me in the end. That’s never kept me from trying over and over again though!

Now, to contrast my nonchalance and even annoyance with these pesky attacks, is my boyfriend Corpse’s concern over them. I’ve tried explaining to him that I’ve grown used to them and that I try not to let them bother me and that he shouldn’t stress over them so much but I may as well be talking to a wall because all he has to do is see me squint my eyes or cringe and he enters concerned-mother mode. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate it to no end, I just don’t want him worrying over something so small. Also, a minor convenience: if the migraine doesn’t hinder me from tending to my tasks, Corpse will. He’ll make sure I’m off the task I’m working and transported into bed in an instant.

That’s why I’m now clenching my jaw, struggling to maintain a poker face as I work on an important project I have to send to my boss by the start of next week. I’ve got plenty of time, but I like to stay on top of my work so it doesn’t pile on top of me, you know what I’m saying. Corpse is sitting on the couch next to me, casually glancing at me every now and then while remaining quiet as to not disturb me. So far so good, he hasn’t noticed anything and, if I didn’t know any better I would sigh in relief. There’s nothing to trigger the pain to arise any further - the lights are dim, I’m staying hydrated, and I downed two painkillers in the bathroom about an hour and a half ago - so I’m sure I’ll be in the clear at least until dinner.

“Wanna watch a movie when you’re done?“ Corpse asks, “Unless you’re tired or anything...“

I flash him a grateful smile, giving his knee a squeeze of reassurance, “I’d love to, babe. But I can’t promise that I won’t fall asleep.”

He chuckles, “Yeah, I know you’ve got a tendency of doing that.” Giving me a side-glance he adds, “It’s cute.”

I roll my eyes, already sensing a blush creeping up on my cheeks and neck which I hide by turning to face my laptop screen. One thing I can’t hide though is the wide grin that’s spread across my face as I mutter: “Shut up.”

Just then, a particularly sharp jolt of pain courses through my head, testing that ability to maintain a resting face. Thankfully, Corpse is turned in the opposite direction, searching for his phone, so I allow myself a brief cringe at the discomfort. 

Guess the painkillers are dying down on me, I think to myself, a second away from sighing exasperatedly at the thought that I have to down two more. It was wishful of me to think I could enjoy the luxury of a dull ache until dinner, now the migraine is straight up mocking me.

I quietly stand up from the couch and make my way to the bathroom so I can take another dose of aspirin because I don’t think I’ll be able to focus on my work for very long if it keeps hitting me with this intensity. Opening the door to the small cabinet above the sink, I automatically reach out for the bottle of pills but stop when I see a surprise.

Directly in front of the bottle stands a note written in, you guessed it, Corpse’s handwriting.

‘Already losing effect, huh? When are you thinking of coming clean?‘

Well shoot, am I that transparent?

I sheepishly exit the bathroom, walking back into the living room where Corpse greets me with the same stance as a parent greeting their kid who’s gotten home past curfew: legs crossed, arms folded over his chest, one eyebrow raised, the whole nine yards.

“Yeah, they’re already losing effect.“ I admit, a small apologetic smile tugging at the corners of my mouth, my cheeks burning with an embarrassed blush. “And I wasn’t gonna tell you at all.” I hurry to add: “Please don’t be mad though.“

Corpse shifts slightly, his gaze giving me a onceover as he contemplates how to pursue the case. I’ve already got several arguments/defenses ready - the perks of working for a lawyer - but I know he’ll dismiss all of them no matter how strong they might come off as in court. Bottom line: even statements that would fly in court can’t fly with Corpse sometimes. Especially when my health and well-being are the topic of observation.

“What have we said about lying?“ He finally asks, causing me to cringe and ball my fists in guilt.

However, I still have my arguments ready: “You never asked me so I never technically lied.” One might say I have quite the audacity to plead not guilty right now, even though I’ve been caught red-handed, but what can I say, I’m stubborn in nature. And Corpse knows this, he’s just testing me for his own amusement.

“Poor excuse, Y/N.“ He says with disapproval, shaking his head and fully embracing his disappointed parent persona. “You’re lucky I’m feeling generous today. So, as punishment for hiding the truth from me, you are to ditch that project you’ve been bugging yourself over and come cuddle and watch a movie with me. Bonus points for you if you fall asleep.“

I needn’t be told twice - not only will it wipe that look off his features but it’ll also get earn me a movie night with the additional benefit of cuddling with my boyfriend? - how could I refuse?

I can’t help it, I just gotta push my luck here and poke the bear with a stick, “If the punishments are so sweet I might start being dishonest more often.“

Corpse rolls his eyes, scooting on the couch and tapping the space he’s freed up for me, “I said I was feeling generous, don’t bet on it happening often though.”

Alright, enough luck-pushing, I should be grateful for this generosity instead. I should be using it to the max.

So, what’s stopping you from doing just that?

Good question, brain, good question.

Head still pounding just not as intensely, I slip under the thin soft comforter to find myself not only wrapped in it but also in Corpse’s arm, his warm embrace bringing me instant comfort, walking me on the tight-rope of falling asleep right away.

“Sneaky bastard.“ I attempt to mutter, yawning halfway through. 

I feel his lips on the top of my head, placing a quick and gentle kiss in my hair before he says, “You’re welcome, babe.”

Count your lucky stars, Y/N. You’ve got one of the good ones.

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[comfyswitcherblanketfort]

please please a part 2 of that gamer!geralt au, them doing something like Q&A

Nonie, I hope you know what you signed up for. This got out of hand lmao. like 2.4k of Q&A kind of out of hand. 

Warnings: swearing, talk of drinking to excess, kinda spicy questions, lil kisses, idk how but I meant for this to be goofy and horny and it got kinda soft? what’s new?

____________

“Holy shit,” Geralt sat staring at his phone as he mindlessly stirred pasta.

“I swear to god, if you found a way to burn noodles-” Jaskier turned away from the blender to wave a wooden spoon covered in pesto puree.

Geralt shook his head and held his phone up to him, scrolling through the replies to a tweet as he did, going on for ages as Jaskier’s jaw slowly got closer to the floor.

“What are those for?!”

“I put up a poll for a boyfriend Q&A or a game review and not a single person has voted for the game review.” Geralt was still scrolling through questions people wanted answered as he watched Jaskier’s face go from shock to confusion to a smug grin. 

“They love me,” he sang, kicking his heel up as he turned back to the pasta sauce.

Geralt rolled his eyes and started screenshotting some of the less invasive questions, shaking his head and muttering, “Course they do.”

-

Geralt pressed record, waited a moment, and heaved a dramatic, long-suffering sigh, “You guys literally didn’t even give me a choice on this one,” he reached off frame and scruffed Jaskier, plopping him down on the couch with him. 

Jaskier didn’t stay where he was put for even a moment, using his momentum to bounce up onto Geralt’s lap with a shit-eating grin, “Oh? Are we rolling?”

Geralt dropped his forehead to Jaskier’s shoulder, stifling a laugh, “This is gonna be a long one.”

“Yeah, it is,” Jask agreed, then turned to the camera, stroking Geralt’s hair, “My fans want more!”

“OH-kay,” Geralt manhandled Jaskier to sit next to him which earned him a pout and a leg draped over his lap as he continued his intro, “I’ve got a bunch of questions from twitter. I didn’t even have to confirm which video we would do, you guys just went straight for the kill. I picked a few, Jask picked a few, neither of us knows which ones the other picked.” he turned to see Jaskier wiggle his eyebrows at the camera, “Why am I thinking you picked the raunchy ones?”

The brunet pretended to be offended before he smirked, “Only a few.”

Geralt rolled his eyes. “Of course,” he nudged Jask with his shoulder and opened up his phone to his screenshots, “Okay! First up is AdamSandlersBitch, nice name. They asked what Jaskier’s favorite gaming console and game to play is.” he turned to Jaksier with raised eyebrows.

His boyfriend cringed, “My.. my phone? I don’t know? I play a lot of Candy Crush while I listen to podcasts?”

Geralt smiled sweetly, “Wait what about Stardew Valley? I thought you started that?”

“I did!” Jaskier brightened up for a moment before he deflated again, “But I got confused and then the ADHD made me bake cookies.”

“Those were good cookies. I’ll play with you if you want?” Geralt’s normal ‘streamer dude’ persona melted away while he played with the rips on Jaskier’s jeans. 

Jask leaned forward and kissed his temple, “I’d love that.” 

Geralt blushed, even after years, Jaskier’s affection still caught him off guard. 

“Mkay! My turn!” Jaskier flashed his devilish grin and read, in his most obnoxious voice, “Dwn2Clwn said ‘do you two live together? Have you said ‘i love you’? And who tops?’”

Geralt’s mouth twisted into an upside-down U as he stared at Jaskier in muted surprise, “Honestly, not as bad as I expected.”

Jaskier looped his arm around Geralt’s, “I’m starting off easy.”

Geralt let his mock-disapproving gaze linger just a bit before he answered, “The living together is kind of new-like a few months. This one said ‘I love you’ on, what? The fourth date? Fifth?”

“Fourth.”

“No, it was the fifth, Eskel locked himself out on the fourth. Remember?”

“Shit you’re right,” Jaskier gave the camera a stern look, “In my defense, we’d been friends for a good four years before this. I wasn’t just confessing my love to a tinder date - though I have done that before.”

Geralt nodded, “That was very amusing.”

Jaskier tapped his nose, “Don’t avoid the last part, darling.”

Geralt huffed and stared down the camera, and, in the most matter of fact tone possible, said, “We switch. Compromise, folks. Can’t have one person doing all the work all the time.”

Jaskier nodded sagely, patting Geralt's chest, “We got a pow-”

Geralt clamped his hand over Jaskier’s mouth, 100% sure he was going to say ‘power bottom pillow princess’, “Nope. I’ll get demonetized for that.”

“But not who tops?” Jaskier asked through Geralt’s fingers.

He just shrugged, “I don’t make the rules.”

Jaskier tapped his phone and raised his eyebrows, telling him to move to the next question. 

“Mis- Mischanication? Shit I hope I said that right, Mischanication asked, ‘would you ever get a pet together?’ We did! Her name is Roach and she’s a little shit! I told Jaskier not to feed her, but he did, now we have the snuggliest, crankiest cat I’ve ever met!” 

Jaskier had gotten up to pluck Roach from her perch on the windowsill when Geralt had read the question and plopped down with her as Geralt finished his proud speech, “She’s not a little shit! She’s just delicate! Isn’t that right, darling?”

Geralt scratched under her chin and cooed, “You are a nasty little dragon baby, aren't you?! Just a little garbage child! Yes, you are. We love the tiny demon beast.”

“Geralt!”

He snickered and kissed Jaskier’s hair, “Next question, love.”

Jaskier grumbled something about positive reinforcement as Roach scampered back to her cat tree and he unlocked his phone for his next tweet, “This darling wants to remain anonymous,” Geralt gave him some serious side-eye at that, “they said ‘I think I’m in love with the flower twink, where can I find one of my own?’”

Geralt frowned at the camera and pulled Jaskier onto his lap, holding him close and snuggling into his chest, almost growling, “Hands off.”

Jaskier giggled, brushing Geralt’s hair out of his face as he talked to the camera, “You heard the man. Unfortunately, I was not mass-produced and I’ve been spoken for.”

Geralt looked up at him with what could only be called suspicious puppy eyes, “You picked that one just to sit in my lap didn’t you?”

“Yes. And because I want to change my socials to ‘flower twink’.” 

“Do it,” Geralt kept Jaskier on his lap as he swiped to his next question, “Eggsfuckingsuck - heh, my dad hates eggs- Eggsfuckingsuck says, ‘what is the most embarrassing thing you’ve caught each other doing/saying?’ Oh boy, do I have a story for you!”

"Oh I couldn't say the thing but you can tell this story!?" 

"...you have a point... Check my insta stories. I'll put it there after I post this." 

Jaskier nodded, ever so pleased, and turned to the camera, "Our dear Yennefer of sorceryglammour once beat Geralt at trivia night when the theme was 'video games'." 

“We did shots before we went to the bar and she goaded me and Lambert into a chugging competition before the round started. I’m telling you, she planned this. Yen is ruthless.” Geralt desperately tried to justify his defeat but Jaskier was having none of it. 

“She’s mostly harmless, plus I have video evidence from that night. You weren’t that far gone.”

“Pull it up! Let’s settle it.”

Jaskier patted Geralt’s head like one would a toddler, “I’d have to get my old laptop out. Later, darling.”

Geralt had a smug look on his face, “That means he doesn’t have it anymore.”

“Next question!” Jaskier squeaked, not at all changing the subject. 

Geralt shrugged, “If you admit I won that one.”

“It’s not a competition!” Jaskier laughed, looking down at him with that stupidly smitten look on his face.

“Hmmm…” Geralt tilted his chin up defiantly, “if you say so.”

Jaskier kissed him, lingering a little bit more than could be considered chaste, “I do.” 

Geralt looked up at him, batting his eyelashes, “Fine then, next question.”

Jaskier handed him his phone and he read it off leaning his head on Jaskier’s shoulder, “CountryBumpkin42 asked if we play any instruments. I play the recorder very poorly, but Jask plays everything.”

“Not everything, but yes, I could cover a Trans Siberian Orchestra song if I had a pedalboard with enough loop settings.” Jaskier preened. 

“And more,” Geralt added, counting on his fingers as he spoke, “In this house alone he has two pianos, three different types of guitars, a drumset, a violin and fiddle, a flute and piccilo, an oboe, a mandolin, a lute, bongos, saxophone, clarinet, tambourine, trumpet, and xylophone. Did I get them all?”

Jaskier glanced from side to side with a guilty look, “Ah… no, I bought a bass sax that showed up last night.”

“Oh, did Thursday at 3 decide they wanted to switch after all?”

“Yeah! She got the third chair as a freshman on a loaner instrument! I’m very proud!”

Geralt seemed to remember they were recording and turned back to the camera, “J teaches music at the university and does private lessons.” 

“It’s how I can afford such a pretty trophy boyfriend,” Jaskier teased, ruffling Geralt’s hair and earning a little chuckle.

“Mkay, what do you have next?”

Jaskier smoothed Gearalt’s hair back down as he read the next question, “3R4108F6!J asks if we have any cute nicknames for each other.”

Geralt’s eyebrows nearly flew past his hairline, “J has a new one for me almost every day.”

“Its true,” Jaskier nodded, “I am a slut for cute nicknames. This morning was Ger Bear, one of my faves. I called him Thumbs for a bit, I lovingly call him Dumb Fuck rather often.”

“And he is Dip Shit, it’s balanced. I usually just shorten names? Jask or J is usually it, right?” Geralt asked, shifting so Jaskier was sitting on the couch between his legs and they were both turned out toward the camera but very much still cuddling. 

“And when I’m being childish I get Alfie. But Geralt is much more deliberate and specific with his nicknames. It’s a bit of a friendship level up when he uses nicknames.”

Geralt frowned at him, “I do that?”

Jaskier giggled, “You never noticed?”

He tilted his head, giving Jaskier a quizzical look, “Not at all.”

Jaskier cupped Geralt’s cheek, “You’re so cute.”

Geralt blushed again, leaning into the touch just a tad, “Who’s turn is it?”

“Yours,” Jaskier hummed, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. 

“Okay,” Geralt blushed even more, “I had this one as an alternate, but uh, Yen asked what we’d name our first kid?” 

Jaskier leaned into Geralt’s shoulder and hummed as he thought for a moment, “I always like Blake or Spencer, but I seem to remember you saying something about old world traditional names?”

Geralt nodded, absentmindedly running his fingers up and down Jaskier’s arm, “My grandma was hoping each of us boys would be a girl and wanted mum to name us Cirilla every time. I quite like it, but I’m rather open as long as I don’t know someone with the name. I really like Eric?” 

“Oo, I like Eric.”

“But you like the neutral names.”

“I do, but it’s your hypothetical kiddo too.”

Geralt gave him a little squeeze, “There’s time for that later. What’s your next one?”

Jaskier snorted when he looked at his phone, “What are your guys’ love languages?”

Geralt just looked down at Jask, completely entangled in his arms, then up to the camera, “I’m gonna hazard a guess at physical touch.” 

“Yeah, I think that’s a safe bet,” Jaskier giggled, “I haven’t taken the quiz in years, but I was that and gifts.”

“Oh, yeah. Physical touch and words of affirmation. I got like a 0 on acts of service and gifts, but I really like giving gifts.” 

“Mhm, yes you do,” Jaksier wiggled his eyebrows, then turned to the camera, “I also had no idea you could have different giving and receiving languages till I met this one.”

Geralt nodded then turned to him with a slight frown, “you know I really thought your questions were going to be more graphic.”

“Oh, honey I saved the best for last,” Jaskier winked. 

“Fuck me,” Geralt grumbled before reading off his last question, “Cali852 asked what we did for Pride.”

Jaskier’s eyes lit up, “Oh Pride was fun. We watched the parade, of course, then Yen did our makeup and… and where did we go after that?”

Geralt looked like he’d been waiting for this, “We went to a club, where you ordered three kamakazis, knocked them all back, danced for twenty minutes, then I took you home.”

“N-no… we went to the beach, didn’t we?”

“That was the year before. We were going to go to the drag show at our regular bar too, but someone had just finished grading finals and went a little too hard.” 

Jaskier grinned, “Speaking of finals, time for the last question. I had a different one in mind but if the thing I cant say from earlier would get this demonetized then that defintitelyi would. So we’re going with ‘what is the wackest placy y’all banged?’”

Geralt snorted, “Shit who knows anymore?”

“Well there was the boat?”

“Or the train?”

“Nah, too standard. What about the cabin?”

“Heh, no I think your o-”

“I don’t have tenure darling,” It was Jaskier’s turn to slap his hands over Geralt’s mouth, “The answer is a dilapidated structure my parents still try to call a cabin out in the foothills.”

Geralt laughed and pulled his hand away, “Okay, that can be the answer.”

“Is that it? Now we just say bye?” Jaskier looked between Geralt and the camera.

Geralt shrugged, “Yeah. You wanna say the thing?”

Jaskier wiggled with a little pride and excitement, “Don’t forget to like and subscribe! Bye Fuckers!”

They both waved for a couple seconds before Geralt got up and turned the camera off. He popped out the memory card and was going to immediately start loading it onto his computer but Jask hooked his finger through a belt loop as he walked past and tugged him back down. 

“I’m tired. Snuggle with me.” 

Geralt hummed, “We just snuggled that whole time.”

Jaskier heaved a dramatic sigh, “I know and this is exhausting. I don’t know how you talk to a camera all day.”

Geralt stretched to set the chip on top of his laptop before collapsing back on top of Jaskier who had stretched the length of the couch, “Are you making fun of me?” he teased. 

Jaskier cupped his face between his hands and pulled him up for a deep kiss, “Oh never.” 

#geraskier #gamer geralt #streamer geralt #teacher jaskeir #noob jaskeir #geraskier boyfriends #geraskier fluff #soft geraskier #the witcher #the witcher fic #geraskier fic #geraskier modern au #the witcher modern au #look this is so self indulgent i hope yall still like it #lmao

[babylooneytoonz]

the Vessel [ Pt. 11 ]

pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Reader

summary: things heat up between you and the Witcher, and the brooding man finally opens up enough for you to be able to take a look into what a Witcher's life actually is about. Among other important things that he wants to let you in on.

warnings: 18+ and badly written SMUT

[My Masterlist] [My Witcher Masterlist - Read the other parts here!]

You were practically pacing in your chambers, your arms crossed over your chest. You had been such a stupid fool, you ran away when he was finally opening up to you. What were you thinking?

He was practically telling you how he really felt, a lot coming from a man who hardly gave anything except for an occasional few grunts.

You wondered who this Renfri was, and what happened to her. Was he one of the women he bedded, adding her into the long never ending list of women Geralt had been inside of?

Suddenly, a loud pounding on your door sounded— pulling you out of your thoughts. You blinked, tilting your neck slowly to a side , scratching your chin lightly.

It could have been Geralt, but what confused you was the fact that you were secretly hoping that it wasn't anyone else.

Slowly, you reached for the lock and opened the door, just a tad bit, and as expected, you were met with wild white hair and sparkling golden orbs staring at you.

Your breathing hitched at his side, his hair messy and sticking to his face, his lips pressed together as he regarded you carefully, waiting for your actions.

Nibbling on your lower lip, you slowly moved out of the way, just a little, so you stepped behind the wooden door, out of his sight. You waited, as the door croak open, and he stepped in, shutting the door behind him, locking it.

What were you doing? You didn't understand, but somehow, this felt right.

He stayed like that for a few seconds, and if you were counting in your mind, you would have assumed that it was ten seconds, his back turned towards you, his perfectly toned back hidden under the fabric of his clothing. In slow motion, he turned towards you, his lips drawn together and you gave him a weak nod.

"You ran away," he murmured, his voice raspy and baritone low and intimidating.

"You left me no choice. You just said some things," you whispered, although it was just you and him.

"Did you not like what I said?" He skewered his head gently to one side, as he regarded you, studied you carefully; thinking. You wished you knew exactly what it was that he was thinking.

"It depends, Geralt. I liked what you said about the woods, but it made me wonder about a lot of things."

Slowly, you turned away from him and moved to the side of your bedding as you sat down against the edge of it and all the while, you could feel the Witcher's burning gaze on you, making you even more nervous than you already were. Why was he making you feel this way? Like your insides were on fire?

"You look tired," he said, coolly; as though oblivious to the effect he was having on you.

"I can't really sleep after a particularly tormenting nightmare," you mumbled, absentmindedly, trying to make small talk, until the Witcher stepped closer, and you looked up to see him standing over you, your knees touching his legs.

"Would it help you sleep if I am here?"

You kept looking at him, the corner of your lips curving into a weak, yet thankful smile and you nodded, blinking. Maybe it would help with him watching over you. You bent forward, reaching out for your boots to take them off you when Geralt grabbed your hand, and you gasped, watching him as he slowly fell to his knees in front of you— now face level with you.

"Here, let me do it," he mumbled the words incoherently, as he slowly placed his fingers on your ankle, and lifted your foot up, his fingers working to free you off the boots. He was able to do it in two quick tugs, and you were thankful as you relaxed under his touch, and hummed a thank you in response. Without having him to even ask you for your other foot, you slowly raised it slightly, and Geralt's fingers fixed on the hem of your ankle length dress, as he rolled it up, almost slightly to find your boot. While doing this, his fingers unknowingly brushed against your skin, making you close your eyes in response.

When you fluttered them open again, he was still kneeling in front of you, looking beautiful just like he always did. You didn't realize that you were staring at him, until you felt him place his hand on your knee and give you a light squeeze.

"Your heart is racing."

"I— uh." You flushed, running your hand through your hair— of course, the man could hear your heartbeat, and of course he understood how wildly crazy he was driving you.

"The floor is cold, Geralt," you drawled, absentmindedly, hoping to hide your blush under the flickering torch that lit your room, the only source of light.

"I'd like to stay down here for a while, if you don't mind."

"Why is that?" You raised an eyebrow, looking down at him.

"You remind me of a goddess— a seer that I was told of in Kaer Morhen," he rasped, and you parted your lips, letting your tongue moisten your lower lip.

"Remind you how?" You asked, ignoring how Geralt's fingers were now strumming and stroking your knee, over the fabric of your robe, making your core throb in retaliation to it.

"Hm," he began, "she made my heart race." You jerked slightly, straightening up upon hearing his words. Curiously, you leaned forward only slightly, so you could look him in the eye, "Was she beautiful?"

He smiled, the corner of his lips tugging upwards, "It was an illusion, she had horns in real life, and crooked, black teeth."

You frowned and swatted his hand away, and he couldn't help but let out a snort, in amusement, "I don't have horns."

He gave a rumbling snort, straight from his chest. Instantly, you pressed your legs together, as your core ached for him. When you opened your eyes again, he was smirking.

"Want me to leave?" He asked, his voice raspy.

"No, I want you to stay."

The corner of his lips tugged slightly, and he placed his palm on your knee, over the fabric of your dress. In a single big tug, he lifted your dress up until your thigh to expose your calves and you whelped in surprise.

"Lie back," he commanded, and like a good girl, you did until you were laying on your back, your fingers gripping the bedsheets, your eyes trained to the ceiling, the Witcher kneeling in between your legs.

Geralt's palm pressed flat against the inside of your thigh, and his movement began, upwards, slow and torturous, making you press your legs together as the shudder threatened to tingle against your core.

"Open your legs," he almost slapped the inside of your thigh when you pressed them shut, and involuntarily in retaliation to his voice, you parted them once again, gasping when you felt him place two fingers against your lips over the fabric of your underwear.

He bent slightly, pressing his lips to your flush skin, peppering your inner thigh with kisses shooting upwards, and instinctively, you began arching your back, melting away into his touch, your fingers fisting his hair, "Uh, Ger—"

His finger hooked to your underwear, and he, with one quick tug, pulled it down, revealing your delicate womanhood, something that he had very well explored before; yet it felt like it was the first time, and he suddenly felt needy, and desperate again.

He grunted in a needy way, clenching his fists together; your odour was driving him crazy. You were like a honeycomb, full of sweet nectar and Geralt couldn't wait to lap it all up.

Everything started spinning around you, in a nice way. You gasped and you moaned, arching your back as you spread your legs for him, nudging him to continue; his tongue ravaging your lips, lapping up all of your sweet juices. Geralt of Rivia was like a hungry bear, and you were that lucky pot of honey, and he was in no mood to share or to leave any of it. He wanted it all, for himself.

You couldn't help but feel like there were sparks erupting in every crevice of your body, like fireworks on display; when Geralt kissed you. His lips on you, your hands tugging his hair, his teeth biting your plump lower lip, it was majestic, carnal, and full of pent up desire.

It surprised you, though, how much gentleness this big man was capable of, especially with you. He held you like a ceramic doll; that you'd break if he held you too hard.

He was on your bed now, laying on his front, both his arms holding him up so he didn't end up crushing you under the weight of his body.

"Geralt, what are you doing to me?" You purred, tight lipped, running your fingers delicately over his naked chest as he peppered the side of your neck now with trailing, wet kisses. You could feel his hardness press against your core, slowly driving you crazy with your hidden desires now flowing out like an overflowing vessel.

"I can smell your desire," he growled against your ear, sending shivers down your spine and tingle in your toes, your core throbbing in response to this beautiful man on top of you, "tell me you want me."

You let your eyes flutter lightly, your hand slowly scaling across his perfectly chiseled chest until you were palming his already hardened cock and he grunted against your shoulder, "I need you, Geralt."

His eyes shone; ablaze with his uncontrollable lust, his cock already throbbing underneath your grip, aching to fill you up. With one quick tug, you hoisted your leg up against his shoulder, leaving your core exposed, dripping and glistening for him to see, and to relish. "Ask me to stop, if I hurt you," he muttered, in a low voice and you nodded, biting down on your lower lip in anticipation.

Almost slowly, he entered you, stretching you out, bit by bit; his forehead now resting against you.

"Is it okay?" He asked, his thickness adjusting to the feeling of you.

You nodded, taking in a mouthful of air and letting it out, "You don't have to be gentle, Geralt."

Geralt couldn't help but purse his lips together; struggling to contain the smirk that was threatening to break out against his lips, and what followed was a series of curses, grunts and animalistic thrusts.

In the middle of it, Geralt flipped you over so you were on your fours, and he had an ample view of your ass. From one hand he smacked your butt cheek, revelling in the moans that escaped your lips— it was like music to his ears, and all he ached to do was hear you scream his name, over and over again. He had been aching to do this for long now, and it was finally happening.

Another series of thrusts and moans ensued and you didn't last much longer than that, your pussy clenching against his cock, which tripped him over the edge, until finally , with one final twitch, his hot seed spilled inside of you.

The two of you lay in sheets, your naked bodies entangled each others. You fit perfectly into Geralt's broad arms, like a piece of a puzzle. He spooned you almost, his arm resting lightly against your waist, his palm cupping your baby bump, his fingers gently stroking it.

"Geralt?" You said, in a baby like voice, keeping your face away from him.

At first, he didn't respond, but only hummed, pulling you closer against his flush body.

"Who was Renfri? And why was what she said so important to you?"

Geralt propped himself up on his elbow, and he peered down at you. Slowly, reluctantly, he pried his palm off your tummy, using it to push your hair away from your face so he could look at you.

"You're trying to make me talk."

"So?" You chuckled, making him almost flash you a smile.

"Okay, she was a Princess, and I killed her," as the words stormed out of Geralt's mouth, you felt a sort of sadness in his voice. Although you wanted to ask him why, you couldn't bring yourself to. This subject was still touchy for him.

"You don't have to talk about her if it means you're gonna be sad all night."

He sighed and laid down again, slowly turning on his back, letting his palm rest against the back of his head. His sweat adorned chest glistened under the flickering torch, making him look like a Greek God.

"That's not what I wanted to talk about."

"Then?" This time you sat up, turning towards him and regarding him carefully.

"I'm leaving for Redania tomorrow," he looked away; anywhere but into your eyes and it stung you like a bee sting suddenly.

"W-Why? Did I do something wrong? Do you regret—" You stammered.

"Fuck, no." Geralt silently cursed himself and quickly sat up, so now he was parallel to you. He brought both his palms to your cheeks, cupping them and he pulled your face to him, "it pains me. To leave you. But I need to bring Roach back."

It was like someone had breathed life into you when you heard those words. Your face flushing with relief, you cupped his cheek in retaliation and nodded, "Oh, I thought you regretted this. Which is why you wanted to leave." He shook his head, his thumb gently grazing over the side of your lip, tracing your lower lip.

"Will you come back then?" You asked, biting your lip.

"I will come back to you. And to our baby."

The two of you stayed like that; your foreheads resting against each others , for a few more seconds before he patted against the pillow and motioned for you to lie down. He then lied down next to you once you had and pulled the covers delicately over you, smiling.

"Go to sleep, love."

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[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

My dearest bouncey! I have a prompt for you if you like: Witchers as a 90s/2000s boyband 😂🤷‍♀️💖💖💖

Ellie, darling, this started as 500 words and turned into like 3.2k words and also a piece of art so... thank you so much. also shout out to my amazing art pal @mawbwehownets for the little comic!!

this contains lots of 90′s/early 2000′s nostalgia so there is also that

tw: hornyish, smooching, perilous music video situations (corny)

---

“Do I have to?” Geralt groans, letting his forehead thud down against the linoleum surface of their tour bus’s shitty dining table.

“Yes,” Vesemir says. His tone leaves no room for argument or whining. “But what if I let you pick the winner personally?”

“There have to be like fifteen thousand letters to go through! How will I manage that in less than two days?”

“There were a few more than fifteen thousand applications, Geralt. There were probably closer to five hundred thousand.”

Lambert wolf whistles and Aiden claps.

Geralt grimaces and keeps his face hidden against the table, releasing a slightly muffled: “Fuck.”

“Language,” Vesemir frowns. He tugs gently at Geralt’s loose ponytail and the singer lifts his head up from the table again, looking at his manager with beseeching eyes. “Anyway, we’ve narrowed it down to about fifty. You can go through those and choose whichever person you’d like to play your love interest. But you have to give me an answer by Friday. The shoot is in three weeks and whoever wins this stupid competition will need time to make arrangements.”

“I thought we were footing the bill for their food and their hotel room,” Geralt raised an eyebrow. “What would they need to arrange?”

“Not everyone can board their pets at the flick of a wrist, dude,” Lambert scoffs from his seat on the couch. Aiden lies draped across his lap, as usual, and the two of them are halfheartedly watching The Lion King. They can only watch movies when the bus is stationary, otherwise the VHS player might move too much while running and damage the film inside the cassette. Even taking advantage of such a rare opportunity, Lambert and Aiden still seem more interested in each other than Jonathan Taylor Thomas’s voice acting. 

“Lambert has a point,” Vesemir sighs. He scrubs his hand over his lightly whiskered face like a tired grandparent and sighs again, more heavily. “It’ll be good for you boys to have a normal person around for a few days. Maybe they’ll be able to put some things into perspective.”

Geralt can only roll his eyes a little bit and thank his manager regardless of his own feelings; he and the rest of TW5 owe the seasoned musical expert their entire careers. Without Vesemir’s help and mentorship they would never have made it past their first disastrous record deal. They certainly wouldn’t have reached the heights they’re at now, enjoying international fame and recognition. 

The begrudging frontman accepts a heavy plastic bin of file folders from Vesemir and sets them down next to his bunk. “Are these organized in any particular way?”

“Nope.”

“Cool.”

Geralt digs his hand into the pile and pulls out a piece of pale-pink stationary, eager to get started and, by extension, get finished. He can already tell that it’s going to be a long couple of days.

---

“I want this one, please, Ves.”

“Huh?” Vesemir looks up from his palm-pilot. Geralt is standing in front of him and trying to hand him something. 

“I want this guy to be in the music video with me.” Geralt holds out the letter again, fingers trapping the accompanying polaroid headshot with great care. A pair of bright blue eyes stares up from the photo, highlighting the subject’s bright smile and unruly mop of messy brown hair. Vesemir tries to hide his amusement; totally Geralt’s type, if the big oaf could admit to having one.

“Alright. I’ll get everything in order. We start shooting in two and a half weeks so get your asses to the gym, please.”

“Yes, Ves,” all five young men chorus. 

“Tomorrow,” Coen mutters a moment later than everyone else, not glancing up from his composition notebook. Vesemir nods in understanding. Coen is the best lyricist of the lot and it’s easier to let him work when inspiration strikes than beg him to focus when he can’t get a solitary idea to stick.

“So why’d you pick that one, Ger-bear?” Lambert drawls. Aiden nods and leans against Lambert’s side. Geralt can’t help the mild jealousy that overtakes him every time he sees his bandmates touch each other with such casual affection. He wants that intimacy, that softness behind the veneer of famous indifference. He wants someone to hold. 

“Yeah. What drew your attention to that poor unfortunate soul. Was it the floppy hair, the big blue eyes, or the dopey grin?” Aiden smirks.

“Hmm.”

“Fuck you,” Eskel sighs, looking between the two troublemakers with the tired gaze of an eldest sibling, “Fuck you for even asking in the first place and expecting a straight answer.”

“Straight is the furthest thing from his answer,” Lambert chuckles. He is promptly smacked in the head with one of the couch’s hideous throw pillows. The youngest member of the band rubs the side of his face and chuckles, “Alright, I deserved that one.”

---

“Holy shit!” Jaskier practically screams. “Holy motherfucking shit!”

“What!?” Yennefer comes flying around the corner. “What’s wrong!?”

“Nothing is wrong, Yenna! Everything is awesome! Everything absolutely fucking rocks!”

“Did you get hit on the head by a falling branch between here and the mailbox or what? You were whining about your finals work not five min-”

“Look at this!” Jaskier shoves an open envelope into her hands and cuts her off. Yennefer reads the watermarked documents once. Twice. Her eyes almost pop out of her head when the words and their meanings finally sink in. 

“Are you fucking with me right now?”

“No, I am absolutely not!” her giddy roommate cheers, bouncing up and down in place. “I did it! I won!”

“Holy shit.”

“I know! I get to kiss Geralt deRiv!” he practically cackles. Then freezes. “Holy fuck I get to kiss Geralt deRiv.”

“You said that already,” Yen teases. She shoves the paperwork back into his hands and grabs a takeout menu from the junk drawer near her hip. “Since you won the makeout lottery, you get to buy lunch. Lucky bastard.”

---

“So this will be your dressing room,” someone’s underpaid PA says, ushering Jaskier into a small, bright room. “Priscilla will be here shortly to get you into hair and makeup.”

“Oh, uh- thanks!”

“Yup.”

And with that, the young man disappears back down the hallway toward the sound stage. Jaskier jogs his leg anxiously as he waits for Priscilla to arrive, nervous and otherwise totally alone in the huge grey building. As the minutes tick by and his heart rate rises, Jaskier’s intrusive thoughts make an unwanted appearance: What if they forget about me being here? What if there’s been a mistake and they accidentally hired two love interests and I just sit in here for hours all alone while-

“Hi!” a bright, peppy blonde woman flies through the door and startles him back to reality. “Nice to meet you, I’m Priscilla! You can call me Priss; I’ll be doing your hair and makeup for the video this week!”

“Oh… hi. I’m Julian, but I prefer Jaskier.”

“Lovely! Well, Jaskier, is your hair naturally this color?”

“Y-Yes?”

“Perfect! I don’t want to mess with such a lovely shade of natural brown, but do you mind if I give it a bit of a trim? I have a few ideas for styles right here in my book- How do you feel about some feathering back here? I think-” she fluffs a few of the hairs around the nape of Jaskier’s neck “-I could really bring out the curls if I adjusted the length a bit and used some product.”

“Just, uhm, go for it, then! Feel free to make me as pretty as possible!” Jaskier declares. He’s committing to this experience wholeheartedly, determined to allow himself every opportunity for positive change. He wants to really let himself enjoy it, and he needs a haircut anyway. Priscilla spends an hour washing, cutting, drying, and styling his hair into a lovely fringed sweep across his forehead. It ends just above his brows, giving his face a slightly softer shape than usual. He grins over his shoulder, “I love it! I’m going to miss you when I’m back at Oxenfurt. Good stylists are so hard to find.”

Priss blushes and nudges against his shoulder, “Oh, you little charmer.”

“I mean it,” he says, examining himself in the mirror. “I look like I could really be worthy of a heroic rescue! This is going to be such a fantastic memory, and I appreciate it. Thank you so much.”

Priss bites back a genuine tear and smiles, “Now that your natural prettiness has been mildly enhanced, let’s get you over to wardrobe, shall we?”

“Wardrobe? Do I have, like, a costume? What’s the music video even about?”

“They didn’t tell you any of this when you got here?”

“Not… not really.”

“Well, my darling, I think you’re really going to like it; they’ve got you in Versace for the first scene.”

“Versace!?” 

Then Jaskier is being ushered into a bright, colorful room full to bursting with grim-faced, middle-aged women and he loses track of his only braincell for the rest of the morning.

---

“You must be Julian!” Lambert declares, bounding up to him and grinning. It’s a feral, animalistic grin and Jaskier resists the sudden urge to take a step back.

“I prefer Jaskier, if you don’t mind too much,” Jaskier corrects him quietly. Lambert rolls his eyes in a long-suffering kind of way and throws a meaty arm around the shorter man’s shoulders, completely ignoring the wardrobe technician’s wincing as he wrinkles the expensive silk jacket. 

“No need to be quiet and polite around here, my dude. We’re just a bunch of rowdy idiots, aren’t we, guys?” 

“Hell yeah!” Aiden calls back. Eskel sighs like the put-upon nanny in a Victorian Redanian comedy. 

“Speak for yourself,” Coen barely lifts his frosted tips up from his book long enough to speak. Geralt is-

Holy motherfucking Britney Spears on toast.

Geralt is the hottest thing Jaskier has ever seen in his short, unfulfilled-until-right-now life. Forget Ralph Macchio. Forget Leonardo Dicaprio and Kate Winslet and Winona Ryder. This man is… Geralt deRiv is… he’s the picture of perfection. And he’s right there, standing in front of an elaborate party set with his thick, beautiful arms crossed over his chest and his eyes trained on the floor, as if willing it to swallow him whole. Jaskier realizes that he probably didn’t have any choice in the matter; maybe this was just as awkward and uncomfortable for Geralt as it was for Jaskier. 

“Ger-bear!” Lambert whoops, yanking Jaskier closer to the brooding frontman. If only he were brave enough to struggle for escape; alas. “This is your boy-toy for the week. Goes by Jaskier, apparently.”

“Nice to meet you,” Geralt manages to grunt. “How did you like the script?”

“I haven’t uh- I haven’t actually seen it?”

“Shit. Fuck. One second,” Geralt huffs, disappearing into the crowd of technicians and machinery operators and PAs. Jaskier loves him already, for real. Sure, he was pretty in the music videos and promo material, but the way he said fuck like it was the noblest word he could think of… Geralt interrupts his train of thought by coming back with a sheaf of papers clutched in his hand. He shuffle-shoves them into Jaskier’s arms immediately. “There you go.”

“Thank you!” Jaskier smiles. It’s genuine and shy, more tenuous than his usual goofy grin. He flips through the pages, glancing between the script to his expensive suit, “So I’m guessing we’re at a party for this scene? Or something?”

“This is… where we meet. This is where… you and I uh…”

Jaskier’s eyes scan the page as Geralt’s ability to speak slowly leaves him. 

Lover ENTERS LEFT, dressed to the nines. Lover adjusts their tie/boa and takes a look around the room. S/He looks sad and a little hopeful. PULL BACK to Geralt, who approaches slowly. Their eyes meet. HOLD SHOT. PULL BACK as they move towards each other. Geralt pulls Lover into his arms and they begin to dance.

“Oh, wow.”

“I hope it’s okay! If you’re not comfortable with that kind of thing we can-”

“I’ll be alright, thank you. I came here to put my acting chops to the test. Well, that and meet my favorite band, of course. Thank you again, by the way. It’s been wonderful so far and I really appreciate you allowing me to be here.”

“Allowing? Psh. Geralt ha-” Lambert is cut off by Aiden, who elbows him sharply in the side. “Ow! What the fuck, babe?”

“I knew it!” Jaskier crows, distracted. “I knew you two were an item!”

“They’re not exactly subtle.”

“They never confirm anything either,” Jaskier retorts. Geralt shrugs his acknowledgement and moves back towards the set. Jaskier follows after the taller man like a lost puppy, eyes flicking from one thing to the next, hungry for detail even in his anxiety ridden state. This is a once-in-a-lifetime experience and he doesn’t want to waste a solitary second of it. “This is incredible, really just...wow. You guys do this all the time? You get to make tiny little movies for already great songs that you get to perform for millions of adoring fans? And you get paid!?”

Geralt hadn’t ever really thought about it like that. He’d been raised in the industry. He’d signed to Kaer Morhen Records as an early teen because his mother was a member of the Board of Directors and he’d been making music ever since; an outsider’s perspective to things was… new. A little strange. “Yeah, I guess that is pretty much what we do.”

“Wow.”

“It’s not that exciting, I promise.”

“Have you ever written a fifteen page paper about the history of lute-string design and manufacturing?” 

“No.”

“Then kindly shut the fuck up about what I should consider exciting,” Jaskier grins. Geralt is immediately and irrevocably smitten. Fuck. It hasn’t even been fifteen minutes! “So, which door am I entering from?”

“Left,” Geralt points. Jaskier skips over and begins to introduce himself to the sound and lights crew. His smile seems to be as infectious as his cheer and soon the entire set crew is smiling at one another. There’s been a literal shift in the atmosphere; if he didn’t know any better, the TW5 frontman thinks Jaskier might be some kind of magical creature, because he can’t just be human. Geralt is well and truly fucked, and everyone in the band already knows.

---

“What do you think?” Jaskier asks, slipping anxiously from behind the changing screen. The Versace is gone and in its place are a pair of tight, high-waisted blue pleather pants and a billowing white shirt, which has been strategically ripped in several places to reveal slivers of the lightly tanned skin that lies beneath. He looks like he’s in desperate need of rescuing. He looks like every fantasy Geralt has ever had about the perfect guy. He looks like a fucking dream.

“Nice,” he says.

Lambert and Aiden wolf-whistle and cheer as they approach. Aiden claps twice, loudly, and shoots Jaskier a set of finger guns, “Hot damn, baby. You single? You lookin’ to mingle? Because I am bi and spoon like a Pringle.”

“First of all, babe, I love you but that was the most horrific combination of words yet known to man. Second of all, yeah, I’d dump Aiden for you for sure,” Lambert adds. Jaskier is at a total loss for words. His mouth hangs open and his breath comes in uneven little gasps for a moment.

“Uh… I- Thank you?”

“Oh god, Eskel! Eskel, he’s short circuiting, do something.”

“You absolute-” Eskel groans and makes his way over to the gathered group. He tugs Jaskier away and over to the other end of the set, where a comically huge rocket/bomb (Jaskier can’t tell) is standing at the center of a vaguely science-themed room. A laboratory, maybe? Or like, a really weird spacecraft? A hospital run by rocket scientists? It doesn’t matter, it’s the Evil Lair of the Villain and that’s where Jaskier is being held captive. “Here, Cameron and Elise will help you get set up for the next scene. I’m sorry about the boys they’re... gay?”

“I understand,” Jaskier nods sagely and Eskel relaxes. Then for comedy’s sake he adds an equally dramatic, “I too am... gay.”

The set dresser, an electrician, and a few specialists (likely a rope rigger among them) come over and tie Jaskier to the bomb/rocket/villainous mechanism, ending his conversation with Eskel, who is now in a much better mood than he was before. 

Jaskier is told to make sure his hands are crossed behind the small of his back and the director instructs him to wiggle back and forth “as convincingly as possible without actually getting loose or moving the ropes too much”. Which is manageable, he supposes. 

“Then, when the chorus comes up, we’ll get a few shots of the boys dancing in front of you,” the director continues to explain. That’s… kind weird, but okay. I’ve seen weirder. “Then we’ll do the action shots, with Geralt rescuing you. Are you okay to do the kiss, or would you rather not? We have dynamic shots with or without, so it’s totally up to you.”

“I’m fine with that,” Jaskier smiles shyly. “I consent to be smooched.”

“Adorable,” Lambert calls. Jaskier blushes and the director shoots Lambert a glare. 

“He’s already pink enough, don’t make me change my gels you little shithead!”

“Sorry, Pierre!”

“Fucking sorry my ass,” Pierre grumbles beneath his breath. Then he smiles at Jaskier. “Do something nasty to him for me, will you? Not too nasty but… just a little?”

“I’ve got your back,” Jaskier winks. 

“No plotting! Not fair!” Aiden whines.

“You have a team,” Pierre retorts. “Now I have a team.”

“Rules are rules,” Eskel sighs. “Now can we please shoot this damn video?”

“Right,” Pierre claps, getting everyone’s attention. “Places!”

---

Geralt races up the stairs, trying to keep the long sleeves of his black mesh shirt from catching on any of the set pieces. The solid black t-shirt he’s wearing underneath makes his arms and back look bulkier than normal; it’s a visual technique to make him look larger than Jaskier, whose billowing white shirt will hide how wide his shoulders actually are. Fuck, those are some nice shoulders. And the smattering of dark chest hair that peeks from the front of the college student’s shirt? Geralt wants to bury his face in it.

Okay, focus. 

He reaches the top of the set and rushes towards Jaskier, ripping the ropes from around his torso and pulling him close. He cups the back of Jaskier’s head with his upstage hand, framing the slightly smaller man for the camera and making him seem even shorter, another trick of angles and body posturing. Geralt plays Jaskier like an instrument, bending him back by placing his downstage arm around Jaskier’s waist, pressing their mouths together and holding them still for as long as it takes the director to yell, “Cut!” with a satisfied tone of voice. 

Geralt’s suspicions are confirmed when Pierre laughs and claps some more and cries, “Print it, lads! That was a one-take wonder!”

He tries to ignore the way Jaskier’s shoulders slump as if disappointed. “Good job,” he manages to say.

“You, too.” Geralt wishes he could keep a picture of Jaskier smiling in his back pocket forever. No other sight could light up the world so effortlessly. “Thanks for being gentle.”

“I’m trying to sweep you off your feet,” the singer shrugs. Jaskier wiggles his eyebrows and follows Geralt down the narrow set stairs.

“Are you, really?”

“Is it working?” Geralt asks, turning to look up at Jaskier. The student pauses to look at him and his foot catches on an uneven board. He topples forward with a short cry of surprise and seems surprised when Geralt reaches out to catch him. “Jaskier!”

“Oh my god!” Lambert races over, Aiden hot on his heels. “Are you okay, dude?”

“I’m fine,”  Jaskier laughs, a little breathless. “Just a little shocked.”

“You should take him to get a snack or something,” Eskel says, nudging his shoulder against Geralt’s. “He’s been busy all day and hasn’t even been to craft services.”

“You haven’t eaten?” Geralt asks, honestly baffled. Jaskier shakes his head, face heating once again. He wishes he could stop blushing, but Geralt’s presence seems to make it impossible. He wraps one arm around the younger man’s temptingly slender waist and leads him towards the food carts. He shoves a couple of sandwiches and a bottle of punch into Jaskier’s hands, not giving him a chance to argue. “Here, I’ll have something, too.”

“Thanks,” Jaskier smiles, understanding that he is, in turn, being understood. They sit comfortable folding chairs off to the side, food spread across their laps. Jaskier laughs and chats around his mouthfuls, pulling things from Geralt like his favorite color and his least favorite nicknames. Songs he liked and dances he disliked. 

“You made it fun again, today,” the singer smiles. “Thank you for that. I wish you could be here for every video shoot.”

“Looking for another member of the band?” Jaskier jokes, doing some half-hearted jazz hands. Geralt shakes his head and laughs. 

“I wish we were,” he sighs. “But I guess five is the magic number.”

“Makes the dances look cooler,” Jaskier nods. “I agree with whoever made that decision. I wouldn’t dare ruin the aesthetic.”

Geralt laughs again and Vesemir turns to look, honestly shocked at the volume of the sound. 

“Plus, you can’t be the frontman if there’s no front.”

“Shut up,” Geralt chuckles, still grinning broadly. 

Vesemir makes a phone call.

---

2 Weeks Later, Backstage in Kaedwen

---

“He’s been sulking like this ever since Jaskier went back to Oxenfurt,” Lambert whines. “C’mon Vesemir, do something.”

“What do you want me to do, make Geralt’s boyfriend appear out of thin air?”

“Not my boyfriend,” Geralt growls, stomping past his bandmates and manager. He can’t help but feel grumpy. Jaskier had been like the sun, bringing light and wonder to everything he touched, and without that joy around it doesn’t seem worth the extra effort to smile. So he’s been moping. 

“Fucking hell,” Vesemir sighs. “Thank goodness I thought ahead.”

“What do you mean?” Eskel asks, joining the little group in the hallway outside the dressing room. “What did you think of?”

“Three,” Vesemir smiles, glancing at his watch. “Two… One…”

“Boooooys,” echoes a high tenor. “Where’s my welcome wagon, Vesemir?”

“Jaskier!” Aiden practically screams, leaping out of the dressing room and flying down the hall. Lambert follows at a sprint and Vesemir hears the resounding oof oh fuck of both giddy musicians hitting their mark. 

Geralt comes back down the hall at a jog, eyes searching frantically. “I thought I heard-”

“Geralt!”

Vesemir’s heart clenches in his chest at the way Geralt’s face lights up. At the end of the hallway, surrounded by spilled luggage and apologetic boyband members, is Jaskier. Geralt floats to him, it seems, like he’s dreaming the whole thing. Jaskier takes his hands and then releases them and wraps his arms low around Geralt’s hips instead. 

“I missed you the most,” he whispers, just for Geralt to hear. “Couldn’t sleep without listening to your CD. I know it’s silly but I really like you.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt whispers reverently into his shaggy brown hair. “What are you doing here?”

“I was going to do my thesis on pop culture’s relation to music history,” he says. “And then the manager of TW5 called Oxenfurt and offered me the opportunity to do some… first hand research while I worked on finishing the paper.”

“R-Really? You’re going to be here… every day?”

“Do you… do you not want me he-”

Geralt kisses him before he can even finish the question. It’s a stupid question anyway, of course Geralt wants him here. Wants him right here, kissing him silly. The singer presses his lips desperately, crushingly against Jaskier’s; he never wants to part from this man again. He never wants to be without that glorious laughter and contagious liveliness. Who knew that life could be so full of delight and happiness if he only let it? 

He kisses Jaskier for all he’s worth and more, pouring his heart and soul into it. When they pull apart, both gasping for air, Geralt asks, “Stay with me, Jaskier? You don’t have to do anything I just-”

“I’d love to be the big spoon,” Jaskier winks, whispering again. “Thank you, Geralt, for the rescue.”

#geraskier #bouncey's buddies #prompt fill #geraskier fic #geraskier ficlet #geraskier fluff #getting together #boyband au #geraskier boyband au #the witcher five and their hit song 'please lambert stop farting on the bus' #ellie has the braincell #thirsty jaskier #thirsty geralt #soft geralt #protective geralt #clumsy jaskier #soft boys content #bouncey's endless au collection #bouncey's endless getting together fics

[naralanis]

little bumps in the road (pt. 26)

Previously, on LBitR...

Lena has never given much thought to what happens after death.

She’s heard all about feeling cold—she’s felt that cold, more than once. She’s heard all about darkness—which she has seen, but not exactly in a near-death context. She’s also heard all about the light.

She does see that—not exactly a light she has to follow or whatever it is people see when they die, but a blinding expanse of white, as far as her eyes can see, though a little fuzzy, darker around the edges of her vision.

Considering the way she went out, Lena’s very surprised she doesn’t see any green.

Green. Kryptonite.

Kara.

Something that feels like a sob wrenches itself out of her chest by force. That dumb, stupid, idiotic Kryptonian—if Lena’s dead, then Kara is for sure—how dare she—

“Lena?”

The voice is familiar, and close; physically close, something that Lena didn’t think was possibly in this ethereal, post-death realm. Lena turns her head and realizes that, despite the brightness of the light she’s seeing, her eyes are most definitely closed.

Huh.

She opens them, then blinks, because the only difference seems to be… a lot of fuzzy shapes.

“Lena?” the voice calls to her again, closer still.

“Eugh…” is Lena’s less-than-eloquent reply. She could have done worse; her throat constricts painfully around something, and it’s like she’s pulling air the wrong way in, which causes a coughing fit that rattles her to the bone.

“Hey, hey, it’s OK, take your time,” the voice continues, and Lena knows that voice, but right now her brain feels like actual Jell-O sloshing around in her skull, and her entire body lights up with pain, so it’s understandably taking her a little while to get her bearings.

She blinks the crust out of her eyes; the speaking blob at her side begins to take shape and look like a person.

“Lena, don’t worry. You’re alright, you’re at the DEO. You’re hurt, but we could take the implant out—there will be an adjustment period, but you’re alright.” The voice explains, and Lena finally, finally places it.

“Agh… ah—ugh… L-lex?” she tries; her tongue feels like a wad of cotton in her mouth, and her throat is just burning.

The voice grows soothing. “We got him, Lena, don’t worry, we got—”

Lena shakes her head, which is a terrible decision—there is s sharp jolt of pain that shoots down her temple and settles all the way at the base of her spine; it makes her clench her teeth, which in turn just worsens the throbbing in her head.

She attempts to raise a hand; that fails when another painful shock travels from her shoulder across her collarbones. Lena groans in frustration, she needs to ger her words out, but it’s like her entire body has decided to call it quits.

Finally, she manages.

“Ah-Alex… Alex?”

The figure releases a breathless little laugh, and a reassuring hand comes to rest very gently at Lena’s shoulder.

“It’s me, Lena. I’m alright, you’re alright. Rest now, OK? Your meds will be kicking in again any time.”

Lena is equal parts relieved and panicked; there’s the obvious relief that comes with the knowledge that Alex is fine and right here next to her. But the agent doesn’t say a word about her sister, and that fills Lena with a dread she cannot express in her condition; especially now, as her lids grow heavier by the second, as her body sinks into an undoubtedly double-padded mattress.

“K—K..agh…” she tries, needing to know that Kara is alright, that she’s alive, because if Lena made it, Kara has to be alive. The alternative is unthinkable.

She manages another unintelligible gurgle before the meds do kick in, and then she’s out like a light.

Lena dreams.

This time, she does see green—a lot of it as the entire space of her LuthorCorp office is awash in the glow of the fully-armed Kryptonite cannons, and when Supergirl—Kara—lowers herself onto her balcony, Lena realizes this is not a dream at all.

It’s a memory.

She watches Kara raise her arms in surrender, sees the crinkle of confusion on her brow as the Kryptonian stares at her as if she’s seeing someone else entirely.

Lena watches her fall once she’s hit by what was meant to be a lethal dose of Kryptonite.

The memory shifts.

They’re in the Jeep, this time. It’s the dead of night and Kara’s in the driver’s seat, hair cropped short—Christ, Lena had forgotten just how short it was during those first couple of weeks. Kara’s driving, but she’s not looking at the road—no, in this snippet of reality, she’s staring straight at Lena, her gaunt, pale complexion fixated on her passenger. She looks perplexed, but also, inexplicably, relieved.

The memories keep shifting—they’re at the diner where they finally spoke to one another again, then they’re at a gas station, a phone booth, on and on and on—until everything seems to move and merge into a blur of colours, shapes, and sounds. It’s a convoluted, puzzling mental kaleidoscope, but surprisingly, Lena finds it remarkably easy to make sense of it all.

After all, how could she not? These are her memories. She’s lived through it all before.

Lena blinks into awareness slowly, this time. Her dream—or actual trip down memory lane—fades away softly, giving way to the soothing darkness of eyes gently closed for sleep.

There’s warmth at her side, and movement, too. It’s the up-and-down, in-and-out steady rhythm of deep breathing.

Lena instinctively tucks into the warmth and feels it in a solid, unmovable presence on her bed. She blinks once, twice, registers the lower lighting of her room, the tell-tale beeping of hospital equipment…and a very warm Kryptonian, glued to her side, squeezed so tight into the MedBay bed she cannot be comfortable.

Lena shifts—she needs to get a better look, needs to touch, to make sure she’s not dreaming, that her mind (which hasn’t been extremely reliable as of late) isn’t playing a cruel trick on her.

When she moves, blue eyes rimmed by dark circles snap open; they crinkle at the corners with a smile as they meet Lena’s gaze head on, and Lena releases a breath of pure relief.

“Hey,” Kara murmurs, her voice a soft breath ghosting over Lena’s cheeks since they’re only inches apart.

Lena can’t really help it; the tears are running down her cheeks before she realizes she’s crying, and she breathes in through sniffles as she reaches out to touch Kara’s face.

She’s there, inches away, warm and soft, and alive, and Lena lets the sobs rip through her chest. Her breaths are short little stuttering gasps, really, and she can’t stop smiling.

“Hey,” she whispers back, leaning into the warmth of Kara’s touch once the Kryptonian delicately wipes at her tears with her thumb. Her hand stays there, cradling Lena’s face as they smile like idiots after one-too-many near-death experiences.

“I have to admit,” Kara says after some time, smile unwavering and bright despite the pallor of her features, “that wasn’t the reaction I was expecting.”

Lena chuckles—she does so lightly, since her ribs (most likely broken) protest at the slightest movement. “What, crying?” she asks. She can’t really move her arms, or really anything at all, so she settles for slightly craning her neck, leaning further into the hand Kara has kept in place at her tear-stained cheek.

Kara just nods, laughing a little. There’s a warm yellow hue around them—Lena surmises someone probably moved a sunlamp to her bed once Kara invited herself in—and it makes Kara’s hair, growing at awkward, adorable angles, glow golden and beautiful.

Lena soaks it all in.

“Is this real?” she can’t help but ask. She doesn’t think she would survive another trick of the mind, especially one so cruel.

Kara shifts on the thin mattress, impossibly closer, body practically melding along Lena’s. She’s still smiling, and there’s such certainty in her gaze, Lena practically melts with relief before Kara can even reassure her.

“Yes,” Kara says. “I have to admit the details are a little bit fuzzy,” she raises her arm with some difficulty to poke playfully at her own head, “but it seems I uh, ripped the Lexosuit apart and tossed it just before it exploded.”

Lena furrows her brows, trying to remember. All she can recall was the countdown clock and the split-second feeling of weightlessness before she began falling to the earth once the suit powered down.

“And then?”

Kara shrugs—Lena notices how her movements are stilted, like moving pains her, and wonders just how close to dying Kara had been. Again. “As far as I know, J’onn got to you in the nick of time.”

Lena narrows her eyes. “And you?”

Kara looks sheepish. “I uh. Hit the pavement.”

It’s said so… matter-of-factly, so casual and off-hand. It wrenches another sob right out of Lena, and her ribs ache in protest, but all she can think is Kara falling again, crumpling limply onto the pavement again, being on the brink of death again, and she can’t—Lena can’t cope with the image at all.

“Hey, hey, no, it’s OK,” Kara moves in, ready to calm and soothe, wiping at Lena’s tears with both hands. Her lips find Lena’s forehead, and while the gesture is entirely unprecedented, it has the desired effect—Lena’s body instinctively relaxes, and her sobs begin to abate. “I’m here,” Kara says, lips still on Lena’s skin, “Good as new, I promise.”

Lena doesn’t believe that for one second—there’s an unhealthy pallor to Kara’s complexion that tells her she still has a lot of time to spend under the sunlamps, and Lena can tell just how much it hurts for the Kryptonian to move. She bets there are slow-healing bruises all over her skin under the DEO-issue henley and sweats.

Though—she considers as her own body twinges with pains she hasn’t yet had the mental fortitude or will to catalogue in their entirety—she supposes she also has a long way to go as well.

“How long have we been out?”

“A few days,” Kara replies, chin resting atop Lena’s head and showing no inclination of moving. Good. “I just woke up a few hours ago.”

Lena grins. “And then the first thing you did was come to crowd my space while I recovered?”

Kara laughs. “Of course not. I went to pee first.”

It’s worth the twinges in her ribcage to chuckle a little. Lena lets out as deep a sigh as her injuries will allow, and her breathing adjusts to follow the steady rise-and-fall of Kara’s chest, still melded to her side.

“So, what now?”

Kara’s sigh is deep, and when she speaks, her voice grows heavier with sleep by the word. She’s probably exhausted and just about ready to conk out.

Lena thinks she’s got the right idea.

“Well,” the Kryptonian murmurs, voice so soft Lena has to strain to hear over the faint hum of hospital machinery surrounding them. “Nia caught Lex—gave him a good ol’ trashing, from what I hear. Uh, your name’s been cleared. LuthorCorp is yours, or will be after Lex’s trial—again. Supergirl is alive and back, sort of. Kara Danvers, meanwhile, is due to return from a mysterious illness… or something, I’m not sure what lie Nia made up at CatCo. Oh, and…”

Lena nods, barely processing Kara’s words. She’s just sinking into warmth, and Kara’s rambling in earnest now, and it feels so familiar. Comfortable, even here, cramped in this tiny MedBay cot.

Especially here.

Lena tucks further into Kara’s neck, and that stops Kara’s talking just enough for her to get a word in edgewise. “OK,” she whispers against Kara’s skin. “But for now… we just rest?”

She feels Kara’s slight nod, and Lena’s smile stretches wider while her eyes grow heavier. “Together?”

Another nod. Another whisper. “Together.”

<<<Previous||

That’s it! It’s done! Oof! Thank you all for humouring me in this wild, bumpy ride. All chapters (plus an epilogue!) will be posted on my AO3 within the next few days.

#THAT'S IT FOLKS #CAN YOU BELIEVE #Special thanks to the anon suggesting the use of the handy-dandy Read More feature #because it means I can put fake mini cliffhangers in stuff now #mwhuahuahua #you have unleashed a monster #anyway #CAN YOU BELIEVE IT'S OVER #I sure can't #y'all have been great #what a ride eh #could I have drawn out the angst #maybe #but frankly #it felt like a good place #and I also have about 5 different projects to finish in April #so ya know #ya gotta do what ya gotta do #anyway now for the actual necessary tags #nara's word vomit #LBitR #supergirl #supercorp #kara danvers #lena luthor #femslash #fic writing

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Into The Woods

Warnings: noncon sexual acts; vaginal, anal.

This is dark!Lumberjack!Bucky and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You’re sent to make a delivery to the man in the woods.

Note: This is for @imanuglywombat​ and @nellblazer​‘s Lumberjack Challenge. I couldn’t see if they were accepting dark fics so if they aren’t, I guess it’s just another fic lol. But anyways, the challenge inspired me.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

“You sure Dezy isn’t going to make it?” You asked as you helped Gerry load the crate onto the trailer. 

“I’m sorry, I got all the other deliveries sent out with Milo but this one’s too far for him.” Gerry grunted as he closed the back of the open-top trailer. “I don’t know what’s gotten into Dezy. Second day in a row and yet I hear he’s down at the Horse every night.”

“Well, he’ll run out of beer money sooner than later,” You sighed as you pulled on your gloves. The air was starting to bite as the brief autumn was turning. “You sure you can manage without me?”

“Slow day in the shop,” He shrugged. “You just be careful.”

“Alright. I’ll do my best.” You climbed up onto the four-wheeler and fumbled with the thick key with the grizzly bear charm attached to it. “Maybe next time give me the easy ones.”

“I’ll tack an hour of overtime on your pay, how about that?” He chuckled. “You need to get out anyway. I know this place is small but you can’t spend all your time reading those harlequins in the dry good section.”

“They’re not harlequins,” You turned the engine and raised your voice as you gripped the handlebars. “They’re fantasy, Ger.”

“Sure, sure,” He backed away. “You go or you won’t make it back by sundown.”

“Never far off these days,” You mused as you revved. “See ya, Gerry. Don’t forget to down stock the fishing wire.”

“Which one of us is the boss?” He called after you as you pulled out, the small trailer rumbling behind you.

You turned off at the end of the street, past the business fronts that looked like cabins. The town looked straight out of Western but with more snow. The first of the annual powder had yet to fall but you could feel it coming. You headed over the lumpy tundra past the sparse trees that grew thicker the further you got. The paths turned narrower and you steered slowly through the damp forest.

You only went so far out when your uncle took you ice fishing and rarely in this direction. You slowed as the path grew more uneven, carefully traversing the thick roots and deep valleys. The noise of the engine bounced off the trunks of trees around you. It was more than an hour before you reached your destination. At least, you thought you were in the right place. Weren’t too many cabins hidden in these trees; well not many still inhabited.

You pulled into the clearing and killed the engine. You hopped off the ATV and stretched your legs, your thighs tingled from the rumble. You went to the trailer and open the door and slid out the heavy trunk. You braced yourself before you lifted and gave a grunt. You’d packed the load yourself. You carried it past the old motorcycle and the neat stack of wood which marched the way to the broad front porch. You slowly ascended the three steps up and set down the heavy crate beside the door.

A bench made of logs, likely by hand, stood just a few feet from the front door, a woven blanket folded over the seat. The curtains were drawn within and you started to wonder if there was anyone there or if this was just another forgotten scene. It all seemed so eerily still.

You knocked and waited for an answer. Nothing. You tried again with the same result. Then, after a cold silence, you heard a door open and snap shut but it wasn’t the one before you. You turned as a man appeared beside the far corner of the porch. He appeared disturbed by your presence as he emerged from the old shed, his flannel jacket marked with patches of dirt and his dark hair poking out from beneath a woolen cap.

“He usually just leaves it there,” He clapped his gloved hands together as he brushed away the filth. “Thanks.”

“Uh, sorry,” You turned and ambled down the steps. “I didn’t realise.”

“Don’t be sorry,” He stayed near the corner, kicking his foot up onto the stump where an ax waited to be used. “Better get going before the sun beats you.”

“Sure,” You went back to the four wheeler. His eyes bore into you as you climbed up. “I didn’t mean to disturb you. I just--”

“Thanks,” He said again. “Driving out here all this way. Appreciate it.”

“No problem,” You turned the key. “Have a good day, sir.”

The engine roared to life and you carefully turned around, the empty trailer clattering behind you. You couldn’t help but feel him watching you still. You wanted to look back, but didn’t. You twisted the throttle and delved back through the treeline. You hoped Dezy would get his shit together, you weren’t keen on doing deliveries.

🪓

The next day, you were back to your usual fare. You stood at the long counter of Elk’s General, watching the locals as they wandered in and out, perusing the aisles of groceries, clothing, or novelty goods. You rung them through on the outdated till and smiled after them as they left with their paper bags.

The usual midday lull came and you pressed flat your latest read on the counter. You crossed your arms over the edge and bent over the pages, losing yourself in the fantastical medieval setting. Gerry didn’t mind so much as you kept an eye on customers. 

The rusty bell above the entrance tinkled and you looked up suddenly. You turned your book over before you could lose your place. You stood up straight and smiled at your newest customer but froze as his eyes met yours. It was the man from the day before, to whom you had delivered the weeks worth of goods.

He ignored your usual greeting and marched over to you. He planted the bill for his delivery on the counter.

“I ordered six cans of maple beans. I have only four.” He said plainly.

“An oversight. I’m sorry, sir. Just a moment.” You gulped and flitted off to check the shelf. There were only the tomato beans in stock. You went to the back room and checked there. Nothing. You returned to the counter. “Looks like we’re all out but I’ll make a note to have them delivered when we get more. Or we can remove the charge from your bill.”

“Keep ‘em on,” He said as he reached into his pocket. “I can wait.” He unfolded the worn leather wallet. “I have to pay my account anyway.”

“Sure,” You reached to slid his bill closer and keyed the amount into the machine. “You could have called--”

“I don’t have a phone,” He growled as he counted out the bills. “I don’t like to be disturbed.”

You took the money and counted it. You avoided his gaze guiltily. You sorted the bills in the cash door and handed him his change. His gloves brushed your skin and he tucked the money away with his wallet.

“Good book?” He pointed to the novel.

“Alright, so far,” You answered quietly.

“I read his other one. The one set in Ancient Egypt. It was… interesting. Not my usual reading material though.” He tapped his fingers on the counter. “You have a good day, miss.”

He turned and left you as you returned his farewell. The door snapped shut behind him and you looked back down at the book. You opened the front page and read the list of works by the same author. You’d have to look into them.

🪓

Several days late, you were helping Gerry restock shelves with the newly acquired truck. The night before, you’d helped unload it and left it for the next day to sort through. Dezy sat behind the counter, half-keeled over on the stool, trying not to puke into his hands.

“Damn shit is hungover again,” Gerry muttered. “I got a whole list of deliveries today and he can’t even stand straight.”

“I can do it,” You offered. “Long as he can manage the till.”

“I don’t know if I even trust him to do that,” Gerry said. “You sure you wanna do the deliveries?”

“We got any of the maple beans on the truck?” You asked.

“A good amount.” He said.

“We owe two cans to-- well, I didn’t get his name. The man who lives way up in the trees.” You frowned, only then realising you new nothing about him. In that town, everyone knew everyone.

“Mr. Barnes?” Gerry reached over into the box and moved around several items before pulling out a can. “Quiet man. Doesn’t like to be bothered. Must’ve scared Dezy good to get him to shut up.” He took out two more cans. “If you’re willing to head up that way, you give him and extra can on me. He’s the only customer in town who pays on time.”

“Sure,” You stood, thankful not to be forced to kneel all day at the shelves. “The list?”

“Pinned up behind the counter as usual,” He caught a box of Corn Pops he hit with his elbow and swore. “Take a radio. Snow’s comin’.”

“Will do,” You said. “I should be that long.”

“Chill blowin’ in from the lake, bundle up before you go too.” He said.

“You sound like my mother.” You laughed.

“I feel like you’re mother,” He shook his head. “Now go, before I get sentimental.”

🪓

Gerry was right, it was cold. The four-wheeler seemed slower as the wind swirled around you. You stopped by each house and knocked before leaving your haul. You smiled away tips and bid each resident a good day before you rushed away under the protests of another delivery ahead of you.

Your last would take the longest, though it was the smallest. The tree cans rattled around the trailer so you stopped at the shop before you continued on and detached it. You placed the cans in a small box and secured it to the seat behind you with bungee cords. You fixed your gloves and pulled your cap over your ears before you set out once more.

The sky grew paler the later it got. A harbinger of snow. You took the same route as before, getting off once to push the ATV over a fallen branch caught beneath it. You carried on, the frigid air lashing your cheeks.

You drew up to the clearing as you had before. The motorcycle was gone, likely pushed into the shed in preparation for the first snowfall. The piles of wood had grown taller and the front door was open, the screen door a poor barrier to the looming winter.

You unhooked the box and climbed up the steps. You bent to set it down and be off. You looked up as you sensed something on the other side of the screen door. The man, Mr. Barnes, stared at you through the mesh, a mug in hand. You stood and smiled nervously.

“Your beans. An extra can for the inconvenience.” You said. “Have a good day, sir.”

You turned but caught yourself before you made it down one step as he spoke. 

“It’s pretty cold.” He remarked as he took the box in his free hand. “You like coffee? I just made a pot.”

“I appreciate it,” You turned to him. “But I don’t mean to impose on you.”

“I wouldn’t ask if you were,” He said stiffly. “I’d feel worse letting half a pot go to waste.”

“I don’t know, I should--” You glanced behind you at the trees.

“You came all this way to give me beans in this,” He held the door with his elbow and stepped through. “You don’t like coffee, I got tea.”

You took a breath as you looked back to him. “Sure. I’ll have some coffee.”

He nodded and stared at you. He blinked and moved to hold the door open. “Well, you wanna come inside? Or do you prefer your coffee frozen?”

“Uh, yeah, okay,” You kicked yourself and stopped right before the door. You smiled awkwardly and offered your name. “I just… figured you wouldn’t want a stranger in your home.”

“Bucky,” He returned and waved you inside. “Not many strangers in town. Not really.”

You entered and he followed you. The entryway was lit by an antique lamp and the front room was entirely dark. You knelt to unlace your boots as he stepped around you. You kept your coat on as the wind continued to seep in behind you.

“Kitchens just down the hall past the stairs,” He said as he continued across the wooden floor. 

“Okay,” You slid your boots off and stood, following his shadow to the kitchen. 

As you passed through the doorway, he placed his mug on the table and went to the cupboard. He took down another thick ceramic cup and sidled over to the stove. He filled it from the percolator and returned to the table to place it before you.

“Milk? Sugar?”

“I’m fine, black is good,” You accepted as he slid the cup over to you.

You sat, hesitantly, and removed your gloves. You tucked them in your pocket and wrapped your hands around the steaming cup. He pulled out another chair and sat. He looked into the mug and slowly drank from it.

“I didn’t know anyone still lived out here.” You said.

“Sometimes,” He answered carefully. “Spring and summer I spend working the lumberyards south of here.”

“And you live all the way up here?” You wondered. He gave you a sharp look. “Sorry, it’s just… curiosity.”

“I like it,” He shrugged. “It’s quiet.”

You nodded and resigned yourself to silence. You listened to the wind outside and looked around at the tidy kitchen. Most of the original structure remained, renovated but not replaced. Even the curtains seemed to be of another era; faded but without holes or tears. All the way up here, time always seemed to stand still.

“You finish your book?” His voice jolted you.

You looked back to him and sipped the hot coffee. You nodded again.

“I did.” You answered. “It was alright.”

“Just alright?” He asked. 

“I’ve read better and worse,” You said. “It was… entertaining.”

“Mmm,” He mumbled and drank his coffee. You mimicked him, eager to leave.

Ten minutes of silence and stunted small talk left your mug empty and your stomach gurgling. You stood and nervously teetered on your feet.

“I should go. It’s snowing already.” You glanced out the window.

“Sure,” He rose and gathered up the mugs and took them to the sink.

“Thank you.” You said and turned rigidly to head through the door. 

You trod down the hallway and stopped to pull on your boots. You adjusted your cap and shoved your gloves on. He neared and you pushed open the door and glanced back at him.

“Coffee was good.” You said.

He caught the door behind you and you marched across the porch. You rushed down the steps and shivered as you neared the four wheeler.

“Be careful,” He said in monotone. 

“I will, thank you,” You called back as you climb onto the seat. “Enjoy your beans.”

He waved and you turned the engine. You backed up and turned around. The snow had already left a thin powder across the ground. You steered into the trees and carefully began to weave around the trunks and along the uneven forest floor. 

The snow thickened the more it fell. You had to slow as the ride became more precarious. The downfall formed a thick carpet beneath the tires and soon, even beneath the shroud of branches, the snow formed a curtain all around you, making it nearly impossible to see. You stopped and left the motor rumbling.

You pulled the radio from its holster down beside the wheel well and turned the dial until you picked up the signal. It was static and crackled.

“Gerry? Gerry!” You held the speak to your lips. “Gerry?”

“Yeah, i--me, ---okay?” His voice went in and out.

“I’m okay but the snow is… I can’t see. It’s going to take me a while.”

“Wha-- breaking up--” The radio broke off with a high pitched scratch.

“Damn it!” You shouted and tried fixing the dial. It didn’t help.

You sat for a moment and put the radio back. You couldn’t stay and let yourself get snowed in. You’d have to keep going, slow but steady. You carefully pulled past the trees, blinking away the flakes as they gathered on your lashes. You stopped again to pulled your scarf higher over your cheeks and pressed on.

The third time you paused, you realised you were lost. A brief lull allowed your vision to clear and you had no idea where you were. You kicked the side of the ATV and cursed. You grabbed the radio again and turned it on.

“Gerry?” No answer. Several more tries with nothing but static.

You hung your head and clicked the radio off. You gripped the handlebars and looked around. You’d have to turn around and try to trace your way back but the snow was starting to get heavy again and--

“Hey,” You jumped as the voice sounded from behind you. “You okay?”

You turned to find Bucky standing by a tree. “How--”

“Looks like you just went in a big circle,” He said. “You’re about ten minutes from my place.”

“What are you doing out here?” You asked.

“Wanted to grab some kindling before the storm got too bad, then I heard you.”

“Kindling?”

“Dry it out, obviously, but might run out of what I have before this clears,” He looked up. “Look, it’s only gonna get worse. Why don’t you wait it out?”

“I don’t-- I can’t--”

“There’s more than enough room for both of us. Might be a bit dusty but… Wouldn’t feel right letting you get lost out here.”

You exhaled and looked at the radio.

“Alright,” You relented.

“I’ll lead the way.” He came up beside the ATV and passed to the front. “Just don’t get too close.”

“Okay,” You turned the throttle just a bit and kept a snail’s pace as he guided you.

He barely seemed bothered by the gusts or the deepening snow. Even as the air turned almost completely white, he didn’t waver though you squinted to keep an eye on him.

“You like beans?” He yelled back to you as he broke through to the clearing around his house.

“Maple beans?” You asked dryly.

“They go great with toast,” He said as he continued onto the shed and unlocked the wide doors. “Warm you right up.”

🪓

You sat at the table, alone. Bucky had excused himself after clearing his own plates. You still picked away at the beans and sausage, listening to the movement above. You scooped the last few bites up and swallowed, washing it down with a gulp of water. You stood and went to the sink to rinse your plate. As you set it in the rack, you were startled by a creak behind you.

“I cleared a bedroom for you. It’s a bit dusty around here.” Bucky said as he leaned against the door frame. “Bit cold, too. Sorry about that.”

“It’s alright,” The windows shuddered. “Better than out there.”

“I put some clothes out too. Might be a little big.” He explained. “Dinner okay?”

“Yeah, it was…” You tried to smile. “Alright. Um, just one second.”

You neared him and he moved aside. You went down the hallway to where your jacket was hung and pulled the radio out. He watched you as you fiddled with it and the speaker crackled on.

“Gerry?” You held it to your lips.

“Kiddo?” He said, clear but not entirely.

“I’m okay,” You said slowly as you held the button down. “Staying until storm clears. Call in morning.”

“Roger, kiddo,” He returned. “Be safe.”

You turned off the radio and placed it back in your coat pocket. You looked up at Bucky as he stared at you dully.

“Just wanted to make sure someone knew,” You said. “Wouldn’t want them to worry.”

“Of course not,” He said. “You want a beer?”

“What?” You were thrown off by the sudden offer.

“Beer. If you want you can grab a book from the study,” He pointed to the doorway opposite the front room. “Sit in front of the fire where it’s warm.”

“I’ll take the book,” You said. “I’m not much for beer though.”

“Hot chocolate? Tea?” He stepped a little closer.

“I’m fine,” You squirmed. “Thank you.”

‘Just let me know if you need anything,” He said softly. “Haven’t had a guest in a while but… I can be accommodating.”

🪓

You read three chapters before you found your way upstairs. Bucky showed you the room he’d prepared for you but didn’t say much more before he closed himself into his own. You changed into the long sleeve tee he left you and the jogging pants with the drawstring waist. You tucked your feet into the wool socks and rolled under the blankets. You were still cold. The top floor was entirely untouched by the fireplace below.

You drifted into a shallow sleep. Maybe an hour or two before you woke, shivering. You sat up and  reluctantly climbed out from beneath the covers. You took one of the blankets and wrapped it around you as you shuffled to the door. You slipped through, carefully not to let the hinges whine and plodded through the dark down the stairs.

In the front room, the fire burned a low amber. You crept over to it and took a log from the wrought iron basket just beside it. You placed it over the coals and stoked it with the poker until flames began to lick. You held your hands to the glow until you were no longer shaking.

You took a cushion from the couch and dropped it on the carpet. You laid down before the fire, wrapping yourself in the blanket as you basked in the warmth. You listened to the violent winds outside, softened by the heaps of snow which had gathered all around the cabin. Your eyes closed as you began to sink into the darkness around you.

You dreamt of the four wheeler, of the snow swirling around you, of losing yourself in the pure white. The trees curled and clawed at your as you were thrown from the seat. The snap of twigs filled your ears and your eyes snapped open. The fire popped as it burned, the room lighter but not much.

There was a heaviness around you. More than just the quilt, the thick arm wrapped around your middle held you close to the warmth at your back. Startled, you wriggled against the body and a groan slithered along your ear.

“What the--” You hissed as you grasped his wrist, his hand tucked beneath you. “What are you doing?”

“It’s cold,” His breath was hot as it seeped into your scalp. “You were shivering.”

“Let me go,” You tugged on him.

“Shhh,” He hushed. “It’s early.”

“Dude, not cool,” You pulled harder on his arm.

“Stop,” He said more firmly. 

“Get off of me.” You growled.

“You’re not a very gracious guest,” He snarled as he retracted his arm, only to grab your shoulder and push you flat on your back.

You latched onto his wrist, he was strong. He didn’t budge.

“You’re scaring me.”

“Scaring you?” He removed his hand. “How? What do you think I’m gonna do?”

He sat up, his broad shoulder stretched the waffled shirt he wore as he rubbed his eyes. He pushed his head back and took a deep breath. You pushed yourself up slowly beside him.

“What do you want me to do?” His hand settled on your thigh and he squeezed.

“Stop,” You tried to push his hand away and he flipped it to grasp yours. 

His grip slipped to your wrist and he twisted. He wrenched it over your head until you were forced onto your back. You cried out as he leaned over you, the blanket slipping entirely from your bodies.

“Came all this way for a few cans of beans,” He whispered. “Really?”

“Stop!” You repeated. “Please.”

“But you’re cold,” He uttered as he leaned closer. “You need to warm up… you’re shivering…” His nose touched yours. “Or… shaking?”

“Get--” His lips smothered yours as he shifted his body atop you. 

You struggled as he released your wrist and reached down to grab your knee as he forced his legs between yours. He bit your lip as he pulled and his hand clawed at the waist of the loose pants. He pulled until he snapped the string within and you kicked around him.

“What are you doing?” You beat on his shoulders. “Stop! Stop!”

“I don’t talk to people, they don’t talk to me,” He snarled. “I keep to myself. Even that dumb delivery boy of yours knows better.”

“No, no,” You slapped his chest as he sat up suddenly. 

He tore the pants down your legs until they were around your knees and pushed them up. The fabric kept you trapped beneath him, legs bent to your chest as he leaned over your once more. He brushed his nose against your cheek and snarled.

“You asked for this, honey,” He sneered. “You just couldn’t leave me alone… The way you smile at me, I can see it.”

“I was just--” You pushed against him. “--doing my job. Please, get off of me.”

He moved against you, his thighs pressed to yours as he felt between you. He pushed his own pants down and you tried to shove him off of you with your legs. You only made yourself dizzy.

The fire flickered against you, setting shadows across his features, his blue eyes caught the flame and glowed sinisterly. His rough finger tickled your cunt as he guided his cock along your folds. You grunted as you fought harder beneath him. He pressed along your entrance and you gasped, a horrified scream as he impaled you in a single thrust.

“Go on and scream.” He said. “No one will hear you. No one but me.” He jerked his hips and you cried out again. “I kinda like it.”

He moved his hips in sharp, short thrusts. He grunted with each, lower and lower, almost like satisfied purrs.

He sat up and hugged your legs to his torso as he rutted faster. He clung to you as if he was desperate, as if he couldn’t get enough. You scratched at the carpet. You whimpered each time he slammed into you, each tilt of his hips harder than the last. The clapping of your flesh mingled with your voices. You closed your eyes, holding back the sobs that threatened.

And then he stopped. Suddenly. He stayed inside of you as his grasp on you loosened. His body quivered and a low growl rose from him. He pulled out of you and pushed your legs aside to that you fell onto your side. Shakily, you pushed yourself, on knees and elbow you tried to crawl away, your pants tangled around your feet.

He grabbed your ankles and dragged you back as you slipped onto your stomach. He climbed over you, pinning your legs between his. He kneaded and pinched your ass, dusky, thick breaths rose from him. 

He pressed his thumb between your cheeks and you reached desperately for anything to get away. The edge of the carpet rolled in your grasp and you kicked your feet with a panicked whine. He pressed his thumb against your asshole and you shook your head as he buried your face in your arms. He pushed inside and you let out a shrill cry.

He poked in and out of you, your tight ring burned around his thumb. He withdrew it and forced his index finger in, then added his middle. Your pained groans only seemed to encourage him as he stretched you around a third finger.

He pulled his hand away and bent his arm over your shoulders as he lifted himself over you. He lined himself up with your ass as his hair hung around his head and brushed the back of yours. He took a breath and you held one in. He entered you slowly, letting out a choked grunt as you strained around him.

The tears pricked at your eyes and your arm shot up as you blind grabbed at air.

“Please, please, please. Stop.” You begged. “I can’t--”

He pushed deeper and your voice fizzled. He pulled back and thrust in again. Every time, he went a little further. Soon he was buried in you to his limit and you couldn’t breathe or move. He held himself inside of you and shuddered.

He began to rock and you moaned. Despite the pain, the fire that radiated from your core, it felt good. The more he did, the better it got. The pressure built, unlike any you’d felt before, and you gulped and groaned against the carpet. Shocked by him, by yourself.

He got faster and faster. Louder two as his snarls filled your head. You tensed and then in an instant, your strength drained from you. You came, harder than you had ever in your life. You murmured as your head lolled and he kept going.

He lifted his head and his fingers gripped the back of your neck as he lifted himself over you. He hammered into you from above as you lay prone and helpless beneath him. He exclaimed and you felt a warmth flow into you. 

He stopped and fell atop you. His weight held you down, suffocated you. His arm stretched up and he grabbed your hand, twining his fingers with yours.

“Stay as long as you like,” He rasped. “Snow’s not letting up anytme soon.”

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #dark bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky barnes x reader #fic #one shot #lumberjack au #lumberjack #au #mcu #marvel #dark fic #dark!fic #challenge

[theviolencedistrict-archived]

still guiding my heart, still saying our prayer written to: lost love characters: ger/ard ke/ay & robin sacramente (self-insert, first-person) words: 1,276 notes: We had always been together. Through the hard times that were our lives, but together they were easier to bear. They were good. Nights spent counting stars on roofs, stealing booze and drinking way too young in fields, smoking in back alleys that made me nervous but never him - and soon we would laugh the dark, dark hours away. Nights falling asleep much too early tangled in blankets while guitars and drums blasted in our eardrums... || angsty fluff, was originally a secret f/o

"I guess I don't need to ask why I'm here this time."

"Is it that easy to guess?"

I laughed weakly, shaking my head. My eyes never met his - they barely landed on him at all. I regretted my choice instantly. I should not have called him there, disturbed him, but on occasion, even my spirit will break. He had always been the one I ran to when the first crack ran through me like damaged glass, crying and rubbing at my eyes while he patted my head. How had two children so uncared for, so rotten from their very foundations, come together with all the love they were never given - for one another? It was a question I'd find myself mulling over for years by then, and I'd long since figured no answer would come. We were far past calculating the result. In my guilt, I pursed my lips.

"It's been a while. What happened, starling?" He inquired, voice somewhere between snarky and truly caring. The way my heart hammered behind my ribcage made it difficult to take in the full breath my tightening lungs craved. The answer wasn't easy, not this time.

"I just, um... I didn't feel very well, and I..." My response trailed off, looking down from the great height where my legs dangled. High upon the very top of my apartment building sat a hardly used community garden, save for where I toiled daily on my flowers and vegetables. Hundreds of feet from the ground, I watched the mist of an incoming rainstorm form in the air. Soon the sky would be completely dark, and maybe then I would lose the sight of him to the shadows he so resembled. I didn't want that so soon, and yet... As he held one knee against his chest, dangling the other alongside mine, waiting for my reply - I could not face him, and my words burned away in my throat.

"You wouldn't bring me here without a reason - " He started, cut off quickly by my head landing rather harshly against his chest, the movement pushing his leg down as my tiny hands clung to his sides. I could feel my shoulders begin to shake with the emotion bubbling up, attempting to force answers from me that I wasn't willing to give. Unfortunately, I was never that strong.

"I missed you," I exclaimed, fighting back the sobs that so desperately wanted to heave from my lungs, "I hate being away from you for so long! It's not easy, alright?! It never gets any easier... Never..." I huffed a deep gasp of air at how cold his shirt felt, his jacket - colder than the breezes coming to life around us. More than anything, I wanted to hold him. I wanted to wrap my arms entirely around him, like we were children again. Like it wouldn't matter, and I wouldn't have to let go, no matter what. We both knew, however, that wish was in vain.

"I know you do... I know," Suddenly his hand was in my hair, fingers massaging comfort against my scalp, "I've missed you too. I know you know that. I miss you... constantly." His voice grew more serious, though it was still the somewhat boyish voice I'd be able to pluck out of a crowd like a crimson flower. His other hand landed upon my back, and he pulled the rest of me in close, resting his chin atop my head while stroking my hair further down. He pressed a chilling kiss there, and I could swear his hand was shaking, so very softly. Perhaps it was my imagination.

"I can't stand the thought of being away from you... Of something, someone taking you away from me." I choked, not allowing the tears permission to leave my eyes shut tight. My hands released his coat and snaked tightly around his waist. I could feel him... and if I could feel him, didn't that make him real? Of course he was real. He was... He was...

"Bit late for that," He joked, but the chuckle didn't pierce through his harsh emotions, "But that's... Despite everything, I'm yours. We made an oath, and I'm not going to break it. Not here, not six feet underground, not in whatever comes next." His voice echoed softly in my ears, and I nodded against the fabric, thinking back. All those years... We had always been together. Through the hard times that were our lives, but together they were easier to bear. They were good. Nights spent counting stars on roofs, stealing booze and drinking way too young in fields, smoking in back alleys that made me nervous but never him - and soon we would laugh the dark, dark hours away. Nights falling asleep much too early tangled in blankets while guitars and drums blasted in our eardrums...

And through all that came next... The darker times. The turmoil, as I felt myself losing him to great chases and the dangers of the world. He wanted to protect me, he'd say. But he needed me, my protection, more than he needed to push me back and behind. Now...

"I love you," He muttered, combusting my thoughts and blowing them away to the grey clouds, "I'm sorry. For everything... I love you." I felt more kisses upon my head, and at that moment I finally found it within myself to look up at him, to meet his eyes. His dark, beautiful eyes, like a dream. Hearing those words, in that voice... It was better than a dream.

It was everything I had ever wanted.

"I love you, too. I always have," I smiled, and when a tear managed to trickle down my cheek, it was a happy one, "I always will." The smile he gave back was one built for me, and for me alone. I'd come to learn that along the way. It was all mine. He pressed his forehead to mine, cold skin meeting warm. It could have been imaginary, but I knew I could smell him... Leather and smoke and geranium, filling my soul.

"Be strong, starling. You have to keep going. You have to, because you're stronger than me. Don't be afraid, and don't cry," He spoke as if teaching me a lesson, and his fingers entwined with mine perfectly, "Call me... I'll be here. I want to be here, because I want you, so badly." The statement was strained with pain, and all I could do was swallow the lump in my throat and nod.

"Okay... Okay. I won't, I w-won't be afraid. I..." I was hushed by the look on his pretty face, and leaned up to meet his bowing head. His lips met mine, for the very first time. It didn't matter if the icy feeling shocked me, because nothing truly mattered then. We had become one, in a way no other living being could imagine. His kiss grew deeper, and I held onto him as hard as I could, wishing it would never end. He tasted... He tasted like tobacco and hot cinnamon, and I couldn't ever get enough of the essence on his tongue.

It could have been forever, as it felt as much like it... But the storm would wait no longer. As a cold gust hit me, and the wet droplets of rain began small and slow, I heard the sound of a book slamming shut. The downpour began, soaking through my clothes, and the aroma of my love was gone. I was alone once more, teetering over the edge of the roof, leaning still into a kiss that was now only saturated air.

"I love you."

#i just had a thought and wanted to get it out #it's lovey angst! not bad angst i promise jdhjfdhf #my writing #self ship #selfship #self shipping #selfshipping #self shipper #selfshipper #f/o #fictional other #s/i #self insert #selfinsert #oc x canon #canon x oc #gay selfship #trans selfship #comfort character #f/o: gerry #s/i: robin #ok to rb

[queenxxxsupreme]

soft ask for Lambert

Requested by @mazakeen: Hi I was wondering if you could write for soft lambert where his lady love saved his life but got hit and now had major fever and lambert is freaking out but takes care of her?

A/N: This came in funny so I had to fix it babe. Also I know it’s unrealistic that a human survives the bite of a ghoul but just bear with me please

***

Time stood still as you collapsed to the ground. The body of the ghoul that just bit you lay in two pieces beside you. 

Lambert had watched helplessly as you fell, unable to move. He heard your gasp in pain when the creature’s teeth pierced your skin and he heard the way your heart began to race, trying desperately to fight off the toxic venom left behind by the necrophage but this only made the venom spread quicker. 

The shrill cry of the only remaining ghoul stole Lambert’s attention from you. He turned just in time to dodge the creature, then he spun and sliced its head off in one clean swipe. 

He looked up from the dead monster, lips parted as he breathed heavily. His eyes found you. 

“Y/N!” He called, sheathing his sword as he sprinted to you. “Y/N!” Lambert tried again, falling to his knees at your side. 

Your eyes were open but not focused, staring blankly at the sky. 

Lambert took ahold of your chin, turning your head to him. 

“Y/N!”

“Yelling won’t do you again good.” Eskel knelt down beside him. 

“She’s-She’s-,”

“She’s in shock.” Eskel  cut him off. 

“Eskel, she’s shaking!” 

“Hand me a vial of Golden Oriole.”

“If she ingests it, she’s going to die-,”

“If we sit here and do nothing, she’s going to die.” Eskel looked up at his brother, finding the young wolf’s frantic gaze. “I need you to listen to me for once, Lambert. I’m trying to help Y/N. I can’t do that when you’re panicking.”

Lambert nodded his head, swallowing the lump in his throat. 

“Golden Oriole.” He repeated, standing to his feet and sprinting to where he’d dropped his satchel just on the other side of the clearing. 

While he was gone, Eskel tore the material of your tunic sleeve to reveal the wound. The skin around the bite mark on your forearm was turning black and your fingers trembled. 

“Lambert.” You choked out his name, turning your head to the side. 

“He’ll be back in a second, Y/N. Meanwhile, you’re stuck with me.” Eskel spoke calmly, offering you a little smile when your eyes found him. He wasn’t sure that you were actually looking at him though. You were dazed. “How are you feeling, Y/N?”

You didn’t answer immediately, your fingers curling into a tight fist. 

“It-It hurts.”

“I know the bite hurts. Does your chest hurt yet?”

“Can’t-Can’t catch my....” You trailed off. 

Lambert returned shortly with the vial. He took the cork out and got down on his knees by your head. With one hand, he lifted your head from the ground and with the other, he poured the thick golden liquid into your mouth. 

You coughed and sputtered, gagging on the horrible taste. 

“I know, bug.” Lambert dropped the vial and brushed his hand over your hair. “I know. Tastes horrible, but hopefully this helps.”

Your eyes rolled back into your head and you went limp. 

Lambert froze, your name getting caught in his mouth. 

“She’s okay.” Eskel spoke, knowing that Lambert thought the worst had happened. “Her heart's still beating. We need to get her somewhere stable.”

“If-If we move her, she-,”

“Lambert, you’ve gotta trust me, brother.” 

The young wolf looked up, eyes meeting Eskel’s. He held his brother’s gaze for a few heartbeats, then nodded his head. 

“Get on your horse. I’ll give her to you. There’s a town about a half hour behind us.”

***

You could feel a cold hand on your forehead. Someone was next to you. 

“Her heart isn’t beating so fast anymore.” Eskel’s voice spoke. He was the one next to you. 

“I don’t like that I can still smell the poison in her veins, Eskel.” Lambert’s voice was distant and quieter than usual. 

“It’ll fade away as she fights it. That’s why she has such a high fever. That’s more likely to kill her now than the bite.”

Lambert cursed under his breath. 

You tried to move, to shift around on the uncomfortable surface you were laying on, but your body felt as heavy as a dozen stones. You couldn’t even move your fingers. 

You opened your mouth, croaking out Lambert’s name. 

Someone’s hand brushed over your forehead, swiping your hair back. 

“Right here, bug.” His voice came from where Eskel’s had previously been. 

You forced your eyes open. At first your vision was blurry, but slowly it focused. You could see Lambert leaning over you. 

“Hey, bug.” He smiled a little in relief. You were awake. You could speak. Perhaps all wasn’t lost. 

“It-Lambert- Hurts.” You choked out, unable to get your voice to work. 

“I know, bug.” He leaned down to kiss your forehead. “I know.”

“I’m going to, uh, to step outside.” Eskel said quietly, wanting to give you both some time alone. He knew Lambert needed to be comforted right now, but you were the only one who could do it. 

Your eyes remained on Lambert’s teary ones. He brushed his hand over your hair as if to comfort you.

Silence fell between you both. Neither of you knew what to say– not that you could speak even if you wanted to. Lambert knew that if he said something, he’d lose what little composure he had. 

He leaned forward once more to kiss your head. He wiped away a tear on his cheek as quickly as it appeared. 

“Don’t…. cry.”

He snorted, shaking his head a little. 

“Thought I lost you.” He muttered. 

“Can’t…. Can’t get rid…. of me-,” You broke off in a ragged cough. 

“Don’t try to talk. You need to just keep your strength for getting better.”

“I’m…. fine. Just tired.” Your eyes started to flutter shut. 

Lambert’s breath caught in his throat.

“You better not die on me.” He almost growled. 

A little grin tugged at the corner of your lips. 

“Lay with me.” You rasped. 

He didn’t need to be asked twice. The witcher climbed up onto the bed with you, careful to not hurt you or put his weight on you like he usually would. 

He tucked his face into your shoulder and instead of putting his arm across your torso, he held your hand. 

“I love you.” Your words were barely a whisper nearly lost in your heavy breathing. 

“Love you too, bug.” He murmured quietly.

Taglist: @pressedinthepages @mishafaye @whitewolfandthefox@wolfyland07 @belalugosisdead @persephonehemingway @keira-hulmaster @dinonuggs69 @greatestauthorofmygeneration@shadow-hunters-lover @dancingwith-thesunflowers @tedi-fach-las @thecomfortofoldstorries @raspberrydreamclouds @natkowaa@disasteren @weathervanes-my-oneandlonely @onlyhenrys@wackylurker @criminaly-supernatural @magpie343@permanently-exhausted-witcher @hina-chans-stuff @the-space-between-heartbeats @havenoffandoms @carriebee1 @ger-bearofrivia @naominami @writingawaymylife@reaganjenelle@theawkwardpedestrian @scarlettwitcher@badassspaceprincess @just-a-sad-donut @summersong69 @an--actual--human--disaster@rubyqueen819 @omgkatinka @c-a-v-a-l-r-y @vonxcon @mazakeen @bravelittlesunflower @thereagles@awkward-turtles-world @menalliha @cotton_mo @maan24 @she-wolfoftheinquisition @titaniafire

#1200 followers celebration #lambert x reader #lambert x reader fluff #lambert fluff

[ddarker-dreams]

Yan Giorno Giovanna - Tarot Card Asks

i’ve actually done some of the tarot cards for giorno but i wanted to revisit how i characterize him as a yan, and therefore we’re doing all of them again bois ! i might do this for bucciarati, mista, narancia, josuke and jotaro too! but my fav is up first

here’s a link to all the tarot questions! 

The Fool - How deluded is this yandere when it comes to their darling? Are they self aware on any level?

His fears don’t come from an unfounded place. Being Don of Passione puts you in danger merely for being associated with him, Giorno well aware of the fact. When he tells you he’s protecting you he means it, frustrating as it may be. That doesn’t mean he prides himself in cutting you off from others, it hurts to know you’re lonely when he’s not around.  

The Emperor - How much of their darling’s life does this yandere dictate/want to dictate?

Giorno feels that he doesn’t take more than he has to. There’s a lot of things you’re able to do, plenty of rooms set aside filled with equipment for your hobbies. The catch is that you’re either with him, or with no one at all. Other than keeping you in a certain, secure area, you’re allowed to do as you please as long as it won’t harm you. It’d make him feel better knowing you have some level of autonomy. 

Strength - How outwardly passionate is this yandere around their darling?

At first, he came off as impersonal to you. Giorno gave you space and allowed you to come to terms with your situation, not imposing himself upon you other than checking in. You can feel how he cares for you in his actions more than his words. From the way your room is decorated with your favorite flowers, to how you fall asleep in the study only to wake up tucked carefully into bed. Eventually he’ll grow more comfortable with you, sprinkling in words of heartfelt affection. 

The Hanged Man - Is controlling their darling important? Or do they want their darling to love them willingly?

It’s natural that he does want you to return his love, but he’s patient and cunning. Giorno will give you small pushes, but never outright forces you to say or do anything for him. It’ll be much more gratifying when it comes from a genuine place. He’s not a pushover though -- if you’re being disagreeable, he’ll leave to cool off as not to aggravate the situation further.

The Tower - If this yandere saw their darling in danger, how would they respond/react?

It would require a lot of planning for anyone with nefarious intent to get close to you. The only plausible way is if they’re a Stand user. If Giorno is with you, he’ll take care of the person with detachment. Your safety is his first priority, any wounds you may have sustained being treated with GER. He’ll take this experience as validation for his concerns. Expressing to you later that this is why he has to protect you, once you’ve calmed down. 

Judgement - Would this yandere ever open up to their darling?

He wants to truly be himself with you, but these things take time. Giorno isn’t sure how to open himself up to you, and doesn’t want to reveal too much at once. It’s a vulnerable feeling, and he’ll only ever attempt it once you’re more accepting of your situation. With enough encouragement he’ll start to show more sides of himself to you.

The Magician - How would this yandere use their abilities/status on their darling?

Anything is at his disposal, given his position in the mafia. He prefers to lavish you in luxury rather than punish you. Gold Experience allows him to create an assortment of rare and beautiful flowers to impress you with. Giorno wants to have positive experiences with you, but given the nature of what he’s doing that isn’t always possible. If you were ever harmed in an attempt to escape, he might hold off on healing you as you know he can as a “lesson”. It hurts him to do so though.

The Hierophant - Could this darling’s yandere fool them easily? Or be manipulated by them?

Hah no way. Giorno wouldn’t have made it this far without being able to tell when a person is acting genuine or is lying. To make matters worse, he has already memorized most of your behavior. Any signs of lying will be picked up on with seamless grace. Whether or not he calls you out on it with a smile depends on what it is you’re lying about. If you’re trying to manipulate him, he might play along to get more information. Or if he feels he’s had enough, he’ll tell you outright with an unimpressed expression that he’s disappointed. 

The Hermit - Is this yandere more relaxed, or capable of being more relaxed?

When you’re acting as you should, Giorno is pleasant to be around. He listens to you, is attentive to your needs, and truly adores you above all else. He’ll even go along with most things you ask for, within reason. You mention a craving for a certain dessert lately? He happens to know one of the best chefs in Italy who’ll make it right away. One of your favorite books came out? You’re getting a signed copy. Be good to him and he’ll be good to you.

Death - Would this yandere ever kill their darling? If not, would this yandere “kill” undesirable traits of their darling?

Giorno would go to hell and back for you, he wouldn’t even entertain the thought of killing you. He’s lost so much in his life -- friends, family -- he couldn’t bear the thought of losing you on top of that. Everything he’s done has been to ensure your safety, after all. Unless you have a habit that’s extremely self destructive, he’ll let you be yourself. He fell in love for who you are. 

The Star - How would this yandere deal with their darling’s loved ones?

There are a few possibilities with this. He might introduce himself to your family at one point, dazzling them with his charisma in hopes of further cementing himself into your life. Giorno doesn’t have any sadistic desire to hurt people more than necessary, that extends to them as well. If you’ve been acting up for too long, he might dryly mention paying them a visit. That’s normally all it takes for you to quiet down. 

The World - Would this yandere ever give up on their darling?

Giorno is nothing is not determined. Once he has a goal he will accomplish it. It’s not a question of if, rather, a question of when. He’ll have a preference for less malicious methods, but he is a member of the mafia. Getting his hands dirty doesn’t make him flinch. It’s just that when it comes to you, he’d prefer to give you the option to give him before he goes to more extreme lengths.

The High Priestess - What expectations does this yandere have for their darling?

He wants you to be as you were before. Giorno expects the initial combative phase, but doesn’t want it to last forever. He’ll do anything to make you feel at home, so that you can be yourself around him once again. Expect lots of encouragement to return to your hobbies and previous interests, he wants you to thrive in your new environment. 

The Lovers - How would this yandere deal with their darling being in a relationship with someone else?

Unfortunate as it is, he will be mercilessness with his methods. It’s what comes to mind when you almost find yourself giving into his abundance of charm. How blatantly abhorrent he is with your former partner. It pains him to even give them that label. Expect a very mafia style death, of a set up accident or worse. It depends on his mood. It’ll be messy and cruel no matter how the orders are carried out to remove that obstacle. 

Wheel of Fortune - Would this yandere’s behavior stay the same over time? If not, why do they remain the same?

Growing closer to you will change how he acts, even if it’s only in the small things. He’ll be more open about his interests with you, taking pleasure in deep discussions about nature where he can showcase his knowledge. Before he could almost seem clinical at times, like every touch and word was calculated. He becomes more of himself once you accept him, less rough around the edges.

Temperance - What made this person yandere for their darling?

Your benevolence. In his life he has rarely been on the receiving side of it, the world dishing out tragedies to him one after the other. Your disposition is in stark contrast with the cruelties he’s witnessed. From giving people the benefit of the doubt, to actively going out of your way to assist your friends... it draws him in. He wants to both protect this rare part of you, and keep it all to himself. 

The Moon - Is this yandere sensitive to what their darling says or does? If not, why don’t they care?

It’d be hard to tell that your words upset him. With a watchful eye you’ll be able to pick up on the humanity that slips through his carefully crafted mask of indifference. Giorno’s hands shake, even if only the slightest bit when you detail your hatred for him. Beneath the surface is an abundance of hurt. Why is it so difficult for you to understand he’s made these hard decisions for your well being? 

The Empress - Would this yandere want to have children with their darling in the future?

Family has never been a luxury he’s gotten to experience. He wrote off his parents at a young age due to their treatment of him. You presented a new opportunity to him, one of correcting the wrongs of the past with new beginnings. If you’d be willing, he’d love to have a family. Whether it be adoption or his own kin. Giorno would love to have a boy and a girl, spoiling them and giving all his love. 

The Chariot - What freedoms would this yandere allow, and take away?

Contact with anyone other than Giorno is taken away. There are staff and bodyguards where you live, but they’ve received special instruction not to speak to you (unless there’s an emergency). He doesn’t want to admit it to himself, but a dark part of him wants for you to depend solely upon him. He can provide you with anything, so he assumes it’s not like you need anyone else anyways. 

Justice - Does this yandere ever feel conflicted about what they’re doing?

While Giorno isn’t as relentless as the previous Don, to be in his position means to have a muddied moral compass. It hurts to see you crying and upset, it truly does, but he reminds himself of the greater picture. He’ll never feel seriously split over what he’s doing, resolve too firm to budge. It’ll be impossible to ever convince him to stop. 

The Devil - What taboo things would this yandere do to their darling?

Most times when you hurt yourself he’ll heal you up without any hesitation, hating the thought of you being in pain. It’s a different story if you injured yourself in an attempt to escape, or after you managed to escape. He’ll take care of anything life threatening, but other than that, you’re on your own. He’ll remind you with an icy gaze that this is what happens when you defy him, and his good intentions.

The Sun - When would this yandere feel content with their situation?

The day you wake up and return his affection wholeheartedly. He might be so ecstatic that it’ll bring him to tears honestly. Giorno will swear himself to you again, in a way remnant of wedding vows. He’ll dedicate every breath of the remainder of his life to making you happy, and protecting you, his most beloved. 

#giorno #Giorno Giovanna #giovanna giorno #giorno x reader #yandere giorno #yandere giorno giovanna #yandere giorno x reader #yandere giorno giovanna x reader #yandere #JoJo's Bizzare Adventure #jojo's bizarre adventures #Jojo Part 5 #JJBA #jjba part 5 #jjba imagine #yandere jjba #yandere x reader #my stuff

[optimistic-dinosaur-nacho]

Taken

Curtis Everett x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Violence, Language Summary: You’ve been living on the train for as long as you could remember along with your brother. The front section can really mess up you in the tail section.

A/N: Excuse the mistakes that appear in this fic, this fic is HELLA old so please bear with me, this is an old fic and so I didn’t know where my mind was going lol

You were just getting ready to head to sleep, seeing Curtis who people call their leader. Ignoring that he was there, you were slowly getting ready to climb up to your bed. "Hey, Nicholas." You heard Curtis speak to your little brother. You turn around and saw Curtis look up at you. "Y/N."

"Curtis." You say, helping Nicholas up on the bed. Curtis let out a small sigh, "Look Y/N, I'm sorry about Edgar-"

"Don't apologize. Edgar should be the one to apologize, I don't eat anyways so what's the point of arguing that he stolen food from me?" You shrugged, slowly began to get Nicholas in bed. "You starving yourself isn't gonna get us out of here," He says.

"It'll get me out of this damn train. I don't want to wake up everyday with all of us bruised and bloodied. My parents died to protect me. Now I'm doing the same for my brother. What's it been, Curtis? 17 fucking years on this goddamn crazy train." You said. You slowly climbed up and dragged the small old curtain to cover the bright light over your guys' bed.

.

"Y/N. Y/N, wake up." You opened your eyes slowly to see Nicholas shaking you. "They're calling us." You quickly sat up, hearing men yelling and Curtis pulled the curtain back. "Come on." He helps Nicholas down and then you jumped down. Everyone lined up where they were supposed to be. "This is pathetic..." You muttered, Curtis looks over to you. "Just do what the say, it's not hard," He says, keeping his eyes forward. You heard the guard talk, men holding guns behind him, even the doors behind were opening slowly but closing afterwards. "Row one." His clicks on the button in hand. The front row sits down. "Two." The next one does the same.

"Three."

"Four."

"Five," Your row sits down but you only stood up, Curtis noticed you didn't sit. "Y/N-"

"Ma'am, sit down." The guard calls, you just stood there. "Sit down!" The man behind him pulls his gun up. "Y/N, sit down!" Curtis says harshly, one of the guards behind begins to walk up with a baton. Curtis stood up, holding your arm. "I got her! I got her! She's just... tired. Not functioning right at this moment." Curtis puts his hand up to keep them from aiming their guns at her. "Well, get her functioning. Next time we won't hesitate." The guard snaps, Curtis finally pulls you down onto your knees.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" He asked, you just looked forward not bothering to look at him. Curtis slips his hand into yours and that finally made you glance at him. "Don't ever do that again." He asked. Edgar looked over at you two. "That wasn't the plan was it?" Edgar asked, Curtis shook his head.

.

It's been a few hours, you and your brother were exhausted, you never ate the bars that they made. It concerned Curtis, you weren't skinny but you weren't caught eating either. It was either you give your bars to Edgar, Nicholas, or Curtis. You were holding Nicholas on the bed you two shared, your hand brushing in his brown curly hair. "I'm scared," Nicholas says, you pulled him into your chest, "I know... I'll keep you safe." You heard people were called out for the worse part for your little brother. Every kid would be lined up and some will be chosen for something you couldn't know.

But they would never return, it scared the both of you. You were older than him, he was just 5 and you were 20 years older than him. You both slightly gasped when you saw Curtis who looked at you, "Come on-"

"No," You said, holding your brother close, "They'll take him." Curtis held out his hand, "You have to come. Or they'll hurt you both." For some reason you nodded, Curtis helped your brother down from your top bunk. Curtis gently held your waist as he helped you down. His hand placed on your back as he helped you guys gather around. Kids were put up ahead, you slowly hid Nicholas behind you. "Y/N-"

"Shut up." You grit your teeth, Curtis knew they could hurt you if you didn't give up your brother. But you loved him. You saw one of the men look up, seeing the unusual look on your face, keeping your eyes low. The lady with the yellow jacket walks up to you, seeing your hand drawn to your back. She lunged forward and grabbed your brother. You instantly shoved her away from him but she had a good grip on him, "No! Let him go!" You screamed, trying to grab your brother's hand, or rip her hands off his arm.

One of the others kid was taken and they tried to fight back and get their kid. You cried, pushing passed the people to grab your brother but Curtis came behind and held you. "No! Let go of me! Nicholas! Nicholas!" After they were done measuring him, she took him and the other kid through the doors. "Nicholas!" You screamed, a guard came up and slammed his gun stock into your head and you stumbled to the ground.

Your eyes slowly opened, hearing chatter and small cries. Your eyes went to the side to see people pass by. You slowly sat up but the pain immediately caused you to fall back. The curtain was drawn back and you saw Curtis. "Hey," He says, you slowly drew your eyes back to the ceiling.

He lifted the cloth off your forehead and sighs, "You should stay down for a bit. They hit you pretty hard-"

"I want Nicholas-"

"We can't do anything," He says, "Not now we can't."

You grit your teeth, "You let them do it. You let them take him."

"They would've killed both of us." He says, you shake your head, "When you die, you're free. We're all animals on this train that takes us nowhere. I don't care if I die." Curtis reached over to gently place on your shoulder. "I'm sorry... Tanya lost her son. We're all gonna find them and we'll return them back safely."

"It's over, Curtis. For me." You felt a tear slip down your cheek. "We can't get him back. I don't know what they'll do with him." You winced when you sat up. Curtis trying to help you lay down, "Y/N, you need to lay down-"

"No! I want Nicholas! Those bastards took him. He's everything to me!"

"You're everything to me to! I don't want you to die on this train."

"Everyone dies on this train. He's my brother! He's my Nicholas-" Curtis jumps up and pulls you into his chest, "I know. I know..." Softly, he said. You felt his fingers slowly brush your hair, your sobs muffled in his coat. You clamped his coat in your hands, crying into his chest. "I love him. Now I lost him and I can't get him back-"

"I promise you. I will get him back," Curtis kept you in his embrace, speaking softly to keep your sobs quiet and calm. You slowly calmed down, tears that were dragged down your cheeks. It could have filled a glass of water just on how much you cried. Your head pounding painfully bad, Curtis slowly pulls away, "You should rest." He began to move off but you stopped him. "No. Don't," Your bottom lip quivered, "Stay with me."

He slowly exhales and laid down next to you, you both faced each other, your arm draping over him to stay close to him as possible. He was warm, and to be honest you were freezing, the blankets you guys had were useless. You let out a shaky breath, "I love you, Curtis..." You felt his arm drape over your frame and pulled you in closer.

"I love you, too."

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[jaskierswolf]

You Set My Heart Ablaze Pt. 16/25

Previous __________________

It was mid-April when Geralt walked into the station, after dropping Ciri of at school, to find a huge banner hung in the breakout room. The word ‘INTERVENTION’ was scrawled in red paint across sheets of paper that had been stapled together.

Geralt almost turned tail and ran from the station.

He didn’t need a fucking intervention.

He was fine.

This was Vesemir’s fault for going on leave. Geralt was starting to wish he’d joined him. Vesemir had taken a trip to the coast, near Cintra, to go fishing. He’d asked Geralt if he wanted to go along but Geralt didn’t want to take Ciri out of school to go on a fishing trip that would most likely bore her to death. She was off school next week anyway, the start of the Beltane Holidays.

“Fuck off!” He snapped at his team mates as he shoved past them to the locker room to get changed.

“It’s for your own good, Geralt!” Eskel called after him.

Geralt muttered the words under his breath and scoffed. He was fine. Yes he’d been hurt when Jaskier had decided to practically ghost him out of the blue but really he should have expected it. Jaskier had said so many times that what they were doing was strictly on friendly terms. Not a single phone call or coffee date went by without Jaskier reminding Geralt of that fact.

He’d pushed too far.

He’d let his feelings get out of control and Jaskier had gone for a clean break. It was less messy that way. Geralt couldn’t begrudge him that.

The thing that was confusing him was Jaskier’s apparent reaction to the whole thing. Coën had spoken to him after school a couple of weeks ago and mentioned that Ciri thought that something was up with Jaskier. He’d tried to ring the teacher but he hadn’t picked up. Not that Geralt had really expected anything different, by that point Jaskier had been avoiding him for about three weeks.

He’d sent an email to check in with the teacher instead, noting that Ciri was worried about him. Jaskier should have appreciated Geralt’s efforts to make it about Ciri, but the reply he’d received was a curt assurance that the teacher was fine and that he was just tired, along with an apology to Ciri and a promise to hide it better in future.

Ciri had never mentioned it again so Geralt had assumed that Jaskier was alright.

Until that morning.

Jaskier was on morning playground duty this week.

And he looked like shit.

There was small selfish part of Geralt that desperately hoped that it was the break in their friendship that had caused such a change in the man.

He shook his head. Perhaps Eskel was right. He did need an intervention. He sighed as he finished changing into his uniform and strode back into the break room as he was pulling his hair back into a bun. “Fine. Go on.”

Renfri cackled and pulled the screen down on the wall that Vesemir used for training days. Lambert clicked the button on the projector and Geralt groaned as the picture slowly faded into view.

It was a picture of Jaskier, a headshot taken from the school’s website. Geralt knew that because he’d checked website earlier that morning to make sure he’d gotten the dates for the school holidays right.

It wasn’t his fault that he’d accidentally clicked on the staff page.

His fingers slipped.

The slide show was titled ‘how to get over your daughter’s teacher.”

“Very funny.” Geralt muttered under his breath.

Renfri wrapped her arms around his neck and then grinned as she twisted to ruffle his hair. “We only want what’s best for you Ger-Bear.”

“Get off.” He grumbled and tried to escape her grip. Once he’d finally ducked out of her arms he turned round to the team with what he hoped was a convincing smile. “I appreciate the concern but honestly I’m fine.”

“You look like someone shot Roach in front of you.” Eskel raised an eyebrow at him.

“And then forced you to eat her.” Lambert added.

Geralt grimaced. “Why am I friends with you?”

“I’m delightful.” Lambert smirked.

Geralt frowned, remembering a similar conversation he’d had before.

“What?!” Lambert groaned. “Seriously! What did I say?”

Eskel shrugged and Renfri watched Geralt suspiciously. “Geralt?”

He grunted.

“Please tell me that you’re not sulking because Lambert said something that Jaskier would say.” She put a hand on his shoulder but he didn’t meet her gaze.

He shrugged her off. “I’m fine.” He insisted and stalked into Vesemir’s office.

With the chief gone, Geralt had been asked to step up for the week and make sure all the piles of paperwork didn’t build up. It also meant that he got to hide out in the office away from the others which suited him just fine.

The projector had been turned off by the time he’d left his office for his morning tea break but in its place was a bundle of paper, printouts of the slides. He sighed and scooped them up before putting the kettle on. His friends were only trying to look out for him and he could admit, in the privacy of his own mind, that he’d been sulking. More than anything he was just pissed off at himself for letting his walls down, and he was angry that it was suddenly so much harder to rebuild them again. Why couldn’t they just snap back into place? He could go about his day with his job and his friends and his family.

Jaskier’s face was smiling up at him from the sheet of paper.

“Fuck!” He cursed and typed out a text to Coën, asking the teenager if he wouldn’t mind staying a little longer with Ciri this evening.

A few minutes later his phone beeped and he let out a breath of relief when he read that Coën had agreed to stay for an extra hour. He quickly replied to thank Coën. Honestly, the kid was a lifesaver. Geralt wouldn’t have been able to stay at work without him. He’d considered finding a way to work from home when Ciri had first arrived, he was pretty handy at DIY and there was a time where he’d thought about making a business out of restoring and fixing up damaged furniture, even odd jobs round people’s houses whilst Ciri was at school, working to his own schedule.

But the fire station was his home, they were his family.

He’d been too selfish to give that up and in the end it had worked out for the best. Ciri now had a family beyond Geralt which was important for the young girl who had lost everything.

He sighed as he finished his tea, it was still too hot and burnt the back of his throat but he didn’t mind. It was better than cold tea and he had work to do. The breaks always went too fast and the day always went too slow.

He avoided his colleagues for the rest of the day whenever possible, luckily for them it was a slow day and most of the call outs were false alarms. Eskel and Renfri had a tough call at a fatal car accident and they were pretty shaken for the rest of the day after that but the team banded together and they moved on.

They had to.

It was the job.

When the handful of full-time cats turned up for the nightshift, Geralt felt a prickle on anxiety tickle up his spine. He was exhausted and this had all seemed like a good idea at the beginning of the day when he still had hours to go.

But now.

Now he just wanted to fuck it all and go home to Ciri.

He ran through the handover quickly before escaping to his truck. He sat in his truck for at least five minutes, his head resting on the steering wheel before he swore under his breath.

“Fuck, Geralt. Get a grip!” He turned the key in the ignition and pulled out from the station.

He considered dropping into a petrol station on the way but decided that would be too cheesy.

Jaskier would probably like cheesy though.

But they weren’t dating and couldn’t be dating so cheesy was out of the question.

“I’m just making sure he’s alright. Friends do that.” Geralt grumbled at he drew up in front of the block of flats, thankfully not on fire this time.

He peered at the keypad at the front of the door looking for the right number.

5D.

That was seared into his mind forever more.

He took a deep breath and pressed the buzzer, ignoring the rising wave of panic in his chest. The building was not on fire and Jaskier was not in danger. He didn’t need to kick through the door. He wasn’t in uniform and there was no smoke billowing from the windows.

“Hello?” Jaskier’s voice crackled from the intercom.

“Jaskier?” Geralt asked. “Can I come up?”

There was brief pause and Geralt stared at the keypad, willing for Jaskier’s voice to come out, as if staring at it would make it happen sooner.

“Fuck. Fine. Yes.” Jaskier sounded tired but the door buzzed and Geralt opened it before Jaskier could change his mind.

The lift would be too slow, he decided, so he ran up the stairs taking them two at a time. He slowed to a brisk walk as he walked through the corridor. It would be a bit much, even for him, to run down the corridor.

Jaskier was waiting for him, leaning on the doorframe with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

He looked… lifeless.

Geralt had never seen the teacher so flat before. He was normally brimming with life, dancing around with sparkling eyes, never really staying still.

“Jask.” Geralt breathed as their eyes met.

Jaskier frowned and looked away. “This is not appropriate, Geralt.”

“I know.” He sighed. “I know.”

“Why are you here, Geralt?” Jaskier asked, still looking at his feet.

Geralt desperately wished that the man would look at him. “Honestly?”

Jaskier huffed, sounding somewhat amused by the question. “Normally helps.”

Geralt swallowed. This was a terrible idea. He was not good at this, not good at finding the words that were enough. All the feelings swirling inside him like a storm. How could words ever be enough? Jaskier normally understood this and he’d gotten pretty good at translating Geralt’s hums and grunts in the past but now that wouldn’t be enough.

He needed words.

Jaskier needed words.

“Take your time.” Jaskier said quietly with a tilt of his and finally looked Geralt in the eyes.

Geralt felt the tension leave his body as he let himself get lost of the cornflower blue of Jaskier’s eyes. A weight he didn’t know he was carrying was lifted from his body.

He took a deep breath. “I.” He cut himself off with a growl. Why was this so hard? “I don’t understand.”

Jaskier raised an eyebrow. “You don’t understand what, Geralt?”

“We were friends.” Geralt tried to explain. “And then we weren’t.”

Jaskier sighed and moved from the doorway, gesturing for Geralt to follow him.

Geralt looked around the flat. It was good to replace the memories he had of the place. He took in all the details he could, Jaskier’s instrument collection propped up against the walls covered with a thin layer of dust, a thick soft looking rug underfoot and picture frames scattered all over the walls with no particular care of placement. The kitchen was small and led straight into the lounge area. Jaskier’s furniture was a mess of different styles but somehow he managed to make it work and Geralt couldn’t imagine it any differently.

“Drink?” Jaskier asked as he shuffled awkwardly in the middle of the room.

Geralt consider it but shook his head. “Fine thanks.”

“I’m going to have a glass a wine. Do you mind?” The teacher asked as he moved towards the kitchen. Geralt shook his head. “Good. Please, sit down.”

“Jaskier.” Geralt sighed in exasperation as the man flitted about the flat, but he did as he was told and perched on the edge of the sofa. He waited for Jaskier to come back into the living area, a large glass of red wine in hand. “Jaskier, what’s been going on?”

Jaskier was tapping his fingers against the glass nervously, glancing around the room and looking anywhere but at Geralt.

“It’s not your fault, Geralt.” He finally answered.

Geralt laughed. “I never said it was, now stop making this seem like a bad rom-com and answer the question, Jask.”

Jaskier giggled at that and the sound brightened the room considerably. “I suppose it was a bit like a bad rom-com, wasn’t it? It’s not you, Geralt, it’s me!” He laughed.

Geralt laughed with him and their eyes met once more. “Is this the part where I declare my undying love for you and beg you to take me back?” He teased.

Jaskier froze.

Fuck.

Too far.

Why did he always take the joke too far?

“Don’t joke about that, Geralt.” Jaskier’s voice wavered and there was something indescribable shining in his blue eyes.

Geralt furrowed his brow as he took in the teacher’s reaction.

The realisation hit him like a ton of bricks.

Jaskier wanted that.

He wanted Geralt.

His body moved without his permission. He stood up and crossed the room in a heartbeat, his hands cupping Jaskier’s cheeks as he pulled the brunet into a kiss. It felt like all the air left him as their lips met. He hadn’t how much he had needed this, needed Jaskier. It wasn’t until Jaskier’s lips were on his that he realised the true depth of his feelings.

It was like the heat of fire after being caught in the middle of a blizzard. Hot, blistering and burning into his soul.

Jaskier whimpered against his lips and they both jumped apart at the sound of breaking glass. Red wine was running over the floor and soaking into the rug.

Jaskier glanced down at the mess of broken glass and back up at Geralt with wide eyes. They stared at each other, their breaths the only sound in the flat, before Jaskier lunged forward and captured Geralt’s lips in a bruising kiss. Geralt pulled Jaskier closer to him, after the distance between them the last few weeks he needed to feel the brunet pressed up close to his chest. Geralt’s hands drifting down to Jaskier’s ass. He smiled against Jaskier’s lips as the man squeaked when Geralt gripped his ass.

“Geralt!” Jaskier whined.

“Hmm?” He buried his nose in Jaskier’s neck and inhaled the soft chamomile scent.

Jaskier tugged at his hair and pulled him in for another kiss. Jaskier’s lips were cracked from where he’d been chewing on his bottom lip but Geralt couldn’t care less as he bumped his nose against Jaskier’s. It was messy, it was needy…

It was somehow still perfect.

They were lost up in the moment, caught up in each other as the world around the faded away.

All Geralt knew was Jaskier as their lips moved together, tongues dancing as the kiss deepened. It felt like Jaskier was reaching into his very soul. They broke apart, panting and gripping tightly onto each other’s shirts. Jaskier was first to catch his breath and he laughed as he pressed his forehead against Geralt’s.

“Well, that was…”

“Hmm.” Geralt agreed.

“Not that I’m complaining or anything but…” Jaskier pulled back slightly and rested his hand on Geralt’s cheek.

Geralt couldn’t help but lean into his touch. It had been so long since he’d felt like this for anyone, since he’d allowed himself to be vulnerable. “I love you, Jask.”

Jaskier smiled sadly and pressed his lips to Geralt’s in a chaste kiss. “I love you too but…”

Geralt groaned and pulled away from the teacher. “Don’t say it.”

“We can’t.” Jaskier pouted. “Geralt you know we can’t. That’s why…”

“Why what?” Geralt snapped.

“It’s why I had to, you know. I couldn’t bear to be around you and not have you.” Jaskier stepped forward with a heartbreaking expression on his face.

Like Jaskier was begging Geralt to understand.

He didn’t.

“You could have had me, Jask. Fuck!” He yelled and spun around in frustration, his finger pinching the bridge of his nose. He counted a few beats in his head and sighed, turning back round to face Jaskier. “I’m not. I’m not good at this but I thought I was being pretty obvious.”

Jaskier’s face fell. “Oh dear heart.”

“Don’t.” Geralt growled. “Don’t kiss me like that and then tell me we can’t do this.”

“I’ve hurt you.” Jaskier sighed and sat down on the sofa. “I’m sorry, darling.”

Geralt down next to him, he couldn’t help it. He was drawn to Jaskier, even if he was angry at the teacher. Jaskier seemed to have the same problem. He rested his head on Geralt’s shoulder and his hands landed on Geralt’s legs.

“I didn’t come here to kiss you.” Geralt admitted.

Jaskier laughed. “Oh?”

“I just needed to know why you were avoiding me.” Geralt sighed as he laced their fingers together. “I couldn’t understand what I’d done wrong. I thought maybe I could apologise?”

Jaskier shifted next to him so that he was kneeling on the sofa facing Geralt, a hand on his cheek. “Dearest, you did nothing wrong.”

“Hmm.” Geralt replied, not believing Jaskier. Of course he’d done something wrong. There was no other reason for Jaskier to pull away from him so suddenly.

“I was scared, Geralt.” Jaskier admitted. “We have the board breathing down our necks at work, three teachers suspended for misconduct.”

Geralt opened his mouth to speak but Jaskier’s finger on his lips stunned him to silence.

“Let me finish, dear.” Jaskier pleaded.

“Fine” Geralt mumbled against Jaskier’s finger.

“Good.” Jaskier bopped him on the nose and Geralt wrinkled it in surprise. “Three teachers suspended for misconduct,” He repeated, picking up his train of thought. “and then you came in with the lunchbox and well…” Jaskier trailed off and smiled dopily at Geralt. Geralt laughed and bumped his forehead against Jaskier’s gently. “Well, I realised that I was unreasonably in love with you.”

Geralt hummed and pulled him into a kiss. How was he supposed to resist the teacher when he said things like that?

He felt Jaskier’s smile against his lips as the brunet pushed back against his chest. “I wasn’t finished!”

Geralt smirked and tilted his head at the teacher.

“No. Stop it. Stop looking at me like that.” Jaskier pouted.

“I’m not looking at you like anything.” Geralt chuckled.

“Yes you are!” Jaskier poked him in the chest. “It’s all very…” He waved his hands in Geralt’s general direction. “distracting!”

“So you realised you were in love with me?” Geralt grinned, prompting the teacher to continue his story.

“Yes and,” He paused “then I remembered that we were supposed to just be friends and with teachers getting suspended left right and centre I just. I couldn’t risk it! I couldn’t do that to my kids, Geralt. I couldn’t do that to Ciri. She’s lost too much already.” Jaskier was staring at him with wide eyes and jutting out his bottom lip.

Geralt frowned at the words. “You did it for Ciri?”

How could he argue with that?

Jaskier was right. If he was suspended or fired because Geralt couldn’t control himself. Ciri would lose her teacher and she adored Jaskier. All of the buttercups did.

“I did it for all of my buttercups.” Jaskier amended. “Ciri included.”

“Fuck.” Geralt groaned and pressed his palm against his forehead.

“But I hated it, Geralt.” Jaskier shifted forward and took Geralt’s hands in his. “I missed you, Melitele knows I missed you. I missed the sound of your voice, I missed your laugh, I missed the way your lips quirk up in that little half smile.”

Geralt scowled. “I don’t do that.”

“You do.” Jaskier insisted. “and I missed your eyes. Gods, Geralt. Do you even know how beautiful they are?”

Geralt scoffed.

“Geralt!” Jaskier whined. “Beautiful.”

“Hmm.” Geralt rolled his eyes.

“I never wanted to hurt you.” Jaskier sighed. “Forgive me, darling.”

Geralt searched Jaskier’s eyes with his own, trying to find an answer to a question that he didn’t understand. He only knew that the answer was in Jaskier’s eyes. He tilted his head as he tried to comprehend what was really going on between them. They were fighting, but then they were kissing, and then fighting again. They couldn’t be more than friends but they loved each other but Jaskier could lose his job but the never-ending terms of endearment.

Was love always this fucking confusing?

He thought back to his relationship with Yennefer and decided it probably was.

“Geralt?” Jaskier asked quietly. “Please.”

He sighed, knowing he wasn’t able to answer the question yet. He didn’t have enough information to make the decision yet. “What happens next?”

“What?” Jaskier asked, his voice cracking.

“We can’t date, Jask. You were right. It wouldn’t be fair on the kids, on Ciri, if someone found out.” Geralt scowled.

Why did it feel like they were breaking up again before they even got started?

“I know.” The teacher sighed and buried his head in Geralt’s shoulder. Geralt instinctively moved his hand to thread his fingers through Jaskier’s soft hair. “It’s not fair.”

“No.” Geralt agreed. “It’s not. So what happens now?”

“I can’t pretend that I don’t love you, Geralt.” Jaskier moaned into his shirt.

Geralt laughed and gently pulled Jaskier up so he could see his face again. The brunet was pouting.

Gods, those lips would be the end of him.

He didn’t know what else to say so he did the only thing he could think of and kissed them.

Jaskier fell back onto the sofa and pulled Geralt on top of him. Geralt straddled Jaskier waist and he kissed him like his life depended on it. They wouldn’t have tomorrow, they only had today.

This moment.

This was it.

He couldn’t waste it.

He wouldn’t waste it. Not now that he had Jaskier in his arms, his lips captured by his own.

“Jaskier?” He asked, his voice a low growl. “Stop me.”

Jaskier laughed breathlessly, his face was flushed and his pupils were blown wide so there was only a slither of cornflower blue. “Like fuck I will. Shut up you brute and kiss me!”

So he did. ________

Next

#the witcher #geraskier #you set my heart ablaze #geralt/jaskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier pankratz #teacher!jaskier #fireman!geralt #modern au #sorry this chapter is late! #wolfie's witcher writing

[king-finnigan]

For the mash up prompts: 55, Established Relationship and 69, Flirting Under Fire. Geraskier is my OTP, but I also feel like it'd be fun with any Witcher/Witcher pairing 😍

Sorry for the late answer, dear! I’m a bit busy with school right now, so anyone who’s still waiting for a reply, please bear with me! I will get to it eventually.

Also I did make this Geraskier, because I haven’t read the books or played the games, so I’m not entirely comfortable writing the other Witchers as major characters 😅

***

Of three things Jaskier is absolutely certain.

1. He regrets each and every action that has lead up to now, to the situation he has suddenly found himself in.

2. There are two pairs of eyes trained on him and Geralt, as they sit at the bar, one friendly, one hostile. Or both friendly. Or both hostile. He’s not sure of things like that anymore.

3. He loves Geralt. He really does. But his boyfriend might be the worst undercover cop he’s ever seen in his entire goddamn life.

As the son of the patriarch of the Pankratz family, he’s seen a lot of undercover cops - some better than others, yet no matter how good, all of them were found out by his dad, and got executed and dumped into the ocean. But none of them have been as bad as Geralt.

He really does wonder how the hell his boyfriend managed to get hired by the FBI, as Geralt looks at him, unease evident on his face - even though he’s supposed to seduce Jaskier - and says: “I- I like your... eyes. They’re... very blue.” 

Jaskier swallows thickly, hand tightening around the pint in front of him, as he fights the overwhelming urge to slam his head into the bar. He can feel his dad’s eyes boring into his back, and remembers the conversation they had earlier that day, when he pulled Jaskier aside, telling him he’s a hundred percent sure that their latest acquisition is an undercover cop - because of course he immediately knew Geralt wasn’t a criminal, big shocker - and that Jaskier needs to get close to him, find out what the Feds know about their operations and criminal activity.

He sighs, softly, trying to save Geralt’s awkward flirting, by shooting him a quick wink, putting on his most charming smile. “Thanks. My eyes are pretty special, though, they’re only blue when I’m looking at hot people.”

Geralt stammers, frowning a bit, mouth opening and closing like a fish on dry land, and Jaskier has to fight not to smack his forehead.

“But...” Geralt eventually replies “they’re always blue, no matter who you’re looking at.”

Now Jaskier has to fight the urge not to smack Geralt. He shoots a quick look over his shoulder, seeing his dad still staring at him. He turns back to his boyfriend who is actually not supposed to be his boyfriend at all. “Geralt, work with me goddammit. We’re supposed to seduce each other and it’s not gonna be believable if you say stupid shit like that,” he hisses.

“Sorry, I’m not good at this,” Geralt whispers back.

“Fucking clearly!”

He shoots a look over his other shoulder, meeting the other pair of eyes that keeps staring at them. Geralt’s colleague, another undercover cop. She’s been in the family a while, and his dad only keeps her around to feed her false information about their activities, to put the Feds on wild goose chases for drug or weapon deals that are never gonna happen.

Though, he knows that she’s aware that the information they’ve been feeding her is false, by now. That’s why the Feds sent Geralt - to seduce Jaskier, the brazen, gay wildchild of the Pankratz patriarch, and maybe get correct information about the family’s business. And she’s keeping an eye on them, to make sure Geralt does his job and doesn’t betray her or himself.

Little does she know Jaskier’s dad already knows Geralt’s a cop.

Because Geralt fucking sucks at being undercover.

He tries again. “Your eyes are lovely, though.” They’re one of the first things he noticed about Geralt when they first met, about a year ago, a few hours before they slept together for the first time. Neither of them had known about each other’s occupations at the time, and by the time they figured out that they were supposed to be mortal enemies, it had been too late - they had already fallen for each other.

“Thanks...” Geralt mutters, toying with his own pint “I... need them to see.”

Jaskier wonders how the fuck he ever managed to fall in love with this idiot.

But, then again, there hadn’t been any need for flirting, when they first met. They had instantly been attracted to each other, and talking just got in the way of kissing, really. And after that, Jaskier had fallen for Geralt because he always expressed his love through his actions, not his words.

So, really, deep down, he had already known Geralt would suck at flirting and would fail at ‘seducing’ Jaskier, especially with Jaskier’s dad and the other cop staring at them the whole time.

The question, really, is: how the fuck didn’t the FBI see this coming? Did they really think they could just put a hot man next to Jaskier, and he would immediately dive into bed with him and tell him all his family’s secrets?

Granted, that’s exactly what happened - a year ago, though. Not that the FBI knows. Not that they’ll ever know, hopefully.

He tries to summarize the situation for himself, as all these schemes and intrications have got his head spinning.

So, long story short: He is part of the mob, Geralt is a cop. They’ve been in a secret relationship for about a year now, and Jaskier’s dad expects him to seduce Geralt so they can find out what the Feds know, and the Feds expect Geralt to seduce Jaskier so they can get correct intel on the Pankratz’s activities.

Fucking marvellous.

He tries to have one more go at this ‘seduction’ thing, just to at least keep up appearances a little bit. “So, Ger-” he blinks, trying to remember his boyfriend’s undercover name “James. Is your hair white everywhere, or just on your head?” He leans his elbow on the bar, putting his chin in his hand, his index finger pulling his lower lip down slightly, looking up at Geralt through his lashes.

Just because his boyfriend sucks at flirting, doesn’t mean Jaskier can’t do it.

And, fortunately, it works. Geralt’s eyes flick down to Jaskier’s lips for a brief moment, as he shifts in his seat a bit, a blush creeping up his neck. “I- uh...”

Jaskier looks at him innocently, batting his eyelashes, exaggerating it so he’s sure his dad and the other undercover cop can see it. “I would love to find out.”

Geralt blinks again, leaning towards Jaskier. “You already know that, though.”

Jaskier sighs, once again resisting the urge to smash his head into the bar. “Geralt, I love you but you’re so fucking stupid. How the hell did you ever get hired by the FBI?” he hisses.

“I’m sorry, I’m just a bit stressed.”

“Yes, I can see that! The whole fucking bar can see that! This is never going to be believable if you keep acting like I’m holding you at gunpoint!”

“Oh, my bad, sorry I’m a bit nervous about this. It’s not as if your dad’s gonna execute me if he finds out I’m an undercover cop!” He sounds properly angry now, brows knitted together over furious amber eyes.

Jaskier scoffs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “He already fucking knows, Geralt. You’re literally the worst undercover cop I’ve ever seen and the FBI sends us, like, a dozen a year. He’s only keeping you alive if I can seduce you - or, at least” he waves his hand non-committally “if he thinks I’ve seduced you.”

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I didn’t want to worry you even more, you absolute idiot! You’re already acting like someone shoved a stick so far up your ass it’s triggering your gag reflex!”

“You of all people should know that I don’t have a gag reflex!”

Jaskier blinks, raising his finger at Geralt. “I know that, and I love you, but that wasn’t my point. My point was-” he lowers his hand, frowning. “What was my point?”

He looks up when he hears his dad’s voice next to him. “Everything alright here?”

Jaskier smiles, leaning away from Geralt until he’s sitting upright again. “Everything’s perfectly fine,” he shoots Geralt, who’s still glaring at him, a warning look. “Right, James?”

Geralt stares at him for another second, before leaning back as well, smiling at Jaskier’s dad so unconvincingly it makes Jaskier cringe. “Yeah, everything’s great.”

The patriarch looks between them for a split second. “Right.” He looks at Jaskier. “If anything’s the matter, tell me.” He looks at Geralt, though his words are still directed towards his son. “I’ll take care of it, then.”

“Nope! Everything’s perfectly fine. Nothing to worry about.”

Jaskier’s dad nods, and walks away. Geralt glares at him again. “And I thought you said I was a shitty actor!”

Jaskier grits his teeth together, standing up abruptly, taking Geralt’s arm, dragging his boyfriend/supposed-to-be-mortal-enemy to the back of the bar, into his dad’s office, slamming the door behind him. “Fucking stop looking at me like you’re going to kill me! You’re convincing no one that you’re seducing me!”

“Maybe that’s a good thing!” Geralt half-shouts. “Maybe if I can’t seduce you, they’ll pull me out of this operation and things can go back to normal!”

“No, they fucking can’t! Cause if I can’t seduce you, my dad’s gonna have your head because you’re the worst fucking undercover cop in the history of the FBI!”

“I could just leave! I could walk out of here and never show my face again! Problem solved!”

“No! He’ll just track you down and kill you anyways, you mud-for-brains idiot!”

“Then what do you suppose we do? You pretend you’ve seduced me and then what? We can’t fucking keep this up forever!”

Jaskier frowns, thinking for half a second. “Then you just out yourself as an undercover cop and say you’ve switched sides! There! End of discussion, problem solved!”

“But I won’t switch sides!”

“It doesn’t fucking matter whose side you’re on if you’re dead!”

“Fuck you!”

“Fuck me yourself, you coward!”

“I already am!”

Jaskier blinks. “Fair enough.” He laughs when Geralt leans against the wall and almost knocks a painting off its hook.

He stalks forward. “Gods, Geralt, you’re so fucking stupid.” He grabs his boyfriend by the back of his neck, pulling him closer, smashing their lips together.

Geralt groans in surprise, but immediately kisses him back, pulling Jaskier flush against his chest.

The door to the office opens, and Jaskier pulls back, meeting eyes with his dad, who’s standing in the doorway. 

“My apologies,” the patriarch says, “I didn’t realize you two were... busy.” He closes the door behind him.

“Right,” Jaskier mutters, as Geralt laughs softly. “Problem solved, I guess.”

#squish answers #geraskier #drabble #geralt of rivia #jaskier #the witcher #modern au #mob au #cop au #that's a lot of au's honey #coconutjellystory