#anyways hm! hm hm hm think growing up in anime fandoms left a mark on me!

[antidotefortheawkward-art]

My thought process transitioning went from “oh god East Asian men are already emasculated as hell, what will I do?” to “maybe if I buy into the soft anime twink look then people will see me as a man” to “wait a fucking minute, that’s just a different more fetishy brand of emasculation”

#my art #sexualization #asian american #asians are human #representation #the ping pong paddles are fueled by how I dress on any given day I think #anyways hm! hm hm hm think growing up in anime fandoms left a mark on me! #yaoi mention tw #sorry for thinking about this sort of stuff a lot lately #apahm is coming up and.. head full all thoughts #hm maybe I should start a personal tag for these serious gay trans chinese reflections #o wait I think ive been thinking about this stuff a lot again now cuz I like cql and thus unfortunately have to see mdzs fuckers :))))

[sojourne]

I'm out of My Head, of My Heart and My Mind

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Jaskier x Reader

Plot: Late one night, Geralt comes back to you and Jaskier after a hunt with a wound on his shoulder and a heated, feral look in his eyes. He tells you and Jaskier to head for the hills, but of course, neither of you listen.

And for once, Geralt's glad that you two ignored his instructions.

Warnings: Mildly Dubious Consent, Aphrodisiacs, Fuck-or-Die, Threesome (F/M/M), Rough Sex, Biting, Scenting, Scent Kink, Size Kink, Size Difference, Vaginal Sex, Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Praise Kink, Voyeurism, Breeding (discussed, not actually happening), Blow Jobs

Notes: Hey look, I've found another Fandom to rub my grubby little hands on! Anyways I fell in love with these idiots as soon as I saw them and I've been binge reading almost every Witcher fic I can find. During my reading I realized there's a lack of reader insert fics and Jaskier/Reader fics so I decided to remedy that!

Also I know everyone and their sister has written a fuck-or-die fic already but... I'm a slut for that trope so I decided to add my own to the pile.

Title is taken from The Wolf by SIAMÉS!

Taglist: Not gonna put my taglist since this isn’t an AHS fanfic and I dunno if anyone wants to see this lmaooooo

You had to admit, when you had first started traveling with Geralt and Jaskier, you couldn’t understand the Witcher’s frustration with the bard. He seemed kind and full of life, and was always eager to lend a hand and would comfort both you and Geralt with equal enthusiasm.

But now, sitting around the dwindling campfire, the sun having long since vanished behind the hills, you really wished Jaskier would give it a rest.

“Do you think he’ll come back soon?” His lilting voice snapped you out of your thoughts and you let out a long, drawn out sigh, sliding down the log you were sitting on and draping yourself over it, hanging limply.

“I didn’t know ten minutes ago, I didn’t know five minutes ago, and I still don’t know now,” you grumbled, staring up at the clear night sky, watching the stars twinkle and shine above you, the moon illuminating the surrounding landscape with a soft, otherworldly glow. You heard Jaskier let out a huff, shifting around on the other side of the campfire.

“Which way did you say he went again?” Jaskier asked, peering over at you. You sighed, sitting up and staring over at him with narrow eyes, knowing exactly what he was up to.

“He told us to stay here for a reason, Jaskier. He left a while ago and if you try to follow him now you’re just going to get lost, and when he comes back I’m going to have to send him right back out into the woods to come rescue you,” you said, Jaskier gasping dramatically and grasping his chest in mock-hurt.

“Y/N, I can’t believe you would say such a thing about your dear friend Jaskier,” he began dramatically, making you smile slightly and roll your eyes. Jaskier was obnoxious, yes, but he was still your friend and you just couldn’t stay mad at him for long.

“In fact, I think that— hm?” He suddenly stopped, leaning to look past you and squint into the darkness. You cocked your head at him, raising a brow. You were about to ask what was wrong when you say his eyes widen, his face growing pale as he began scrambling to stand up, causing you to turn and look behind you, wondering what had startled the bard.

Geralt.

You could hardly see him in the darkness but you spotted the white of his hair moving through the shadows, his pace slow and lethargic. You immediately got up, running after Jaskier.

“Geralt!” The bard cried in alarm, the two of you finally noticing the bleeding wound on the Witcher’s shoulder. It looked like a bite mark. Geralt let out a deep, rumbling growl as the two of you approached before slumping down onto the ground, now on his knees.

“Don’t,” he barked, you and Jaskier immediately freezing, exchanging a concerned glance before looking back to Geralt.

“Geralt, what—“ you tried to speak but he cut you off, grunting. You looked over to Jaskier who was nearly vibrating with energy, his instincts telling him to go to Geralt, to help him and comfort him, but he stayed put, not wanting to upset the Witcher further.

“You two, get Roach and go back to the town, now,” he snapped, looking between you and Jaskier with a strange expression on his face that you had never seen before. It almost looked like fear.

“But Geralt, the monster—“

“It’s dead,” Geralt said, cutting Jaskier off before the bard could finish. Jaskier looked confused, his browns furrowed as he shifted from one foot to another, staring at Geralt.

“Wait, what? If it’s dead why do we need to run? Geralt, you look like you got bitten, is that a bite mark? Was it a werewolf? Are you going to turn into a werewolf now?” Jaskier immediately began rambling, Geralt staring at him in frustration.

“Fucks sake bard, can you not listen? I said take Y/N and Roach and go,” he snarled, both you and Jaskier jumping at his desperate tone.

“Geralt, what bit you? What can we do? You must have something in your bag that can help, some kind of potion,” you began desperately, reaching out slowly towards Geralt, who only growled at your hands and leaned away, like a wild animal that had never seen a human before. He was still for a moment, taking long, deep breaths and trying to steady himself, his eyes starting to look glassy and out of focus.

“There’s nothing you can do. You need to get as far away from me as possible, you two need to get somewhere safe,” he said, the shakiness in his voice making your blood run cold. You had never heard Geralt sound so desperate and unsteady before, and you didn’t understand why he wanted you two to leave him here while he was injured.

“Gods, Geralt, what bit you? Tell us— tell us so we can help,” Jaskier pleaded, taking a few steps closer to the white-haired man. Geralt growled deep in his throat, closing his eyes tightly and groaning.

“A fucking succubus bit me, bard. So unless you want me to fuck you to death you need to leave,” Geralt bit out, his voice deep and rumbling.

Oh.

You looked over at Jaskier, who now stared at Geralt with wide eyes, his cheeks flushing pink and for once, he was at a loss for words.

You looked back to Geralt who was now sweating profusely, pale skin flushed and eyes unfocused, trying to keep his gaze off of you and Jaskier and on the ground. You sighed, running your hands through your hair, looking over to Jaskier once more before slowly approaching Geralt, a concerned look on your face.

“Geralt,” you spoke softly as to not alarm him, the man grunting in response. “What happens if we leave you here? Will you be okay?” you asked softly, Geralt sighing and squeezing his eyes shut, his fists clenching in the dirt below him.

“No.”

“Geralt,” Jaskier said, completely dumbfounded. “We’re not going to leave you here to die in the woods. We’re not leaving you here alone,” he said, Geralt letting out a loud groan of annoyance, very close to losing his patience.

“Dammit Jaskier, listen to me for once in your life. I’ve been poisoned, the only way to get it out is for me to fuck it out of my system, and I’m not doing that to you. I’m not hurting you,” Geralt said, now panting slightly. Jaskier turned to look at you, a terrified expression on his face, terrified at the prospect of losing Geralt. You pressed your lips together in a firm line, grunting as you fell down to your knees in front of Geralt, staring at him.

“Geralt, you’re our friend— you’re our friend and we’re not leaving you out here to die alone. Just… Let me help you, Jaskier can go back to the village and I’ll stay here,” you said firmly, Geralt’s eyes snapping open, and although he was still staring at the ground you could see that his eyes were nearly black, his pupils completely dilated.

“You’re a fucking idiot, Y/N,” Geralt said, letting out a soft, delirious laugh. You seldom heard Geralt laugh, or really make any noise besides hmm or ugh or fuck. This was probably the most you had heard him say in weeks, which would have been amazing if the conversation didn’t revolve around his fear of fucking you or Jaskier to death.

“Oh, now you’re telling me to go run back to the village? Y/N, I barely listen to Geralt and he’s large enough to pick me up and snap me like a branch, and you think I’ll listen to you?” Jaskier said, trying to lighten the mood, but the high-pitched and scared tone of his voice wasn’t very convincing.

“Y/N, Jaskier, if you stay I’m just going to hurt you, you need to go. Please,” Geralt croaked out the last word, still staring down at the ground, his brows furrowed. You nearly fell over, blinking in surprise at the Witcher’s words.

 That was the first time you had ever heard him say please.

You looked up at Jaskier, staring at him for a moment before you looked back to Geralt, taking a deep breath.

“And what if I want you to hurt me, Geralt?” You asked and before you even knew what was happening Jaskier was diving out of the way with a yelp as Geralt launched himself towards you, pinning you to the ground and pressing his lips against yours in a rough kiss.

You let out a squeak at the sudden pressure and warmth against you, the feel and sound and scent of Geralt borderline intoxicating as his hands squeezed your shoulders, his tongue quickly pressing into your mouth and eliciting a soft, surprised whine from your throat.

“Oh, well, right then, I suppose we’re starting already,” Jaskier warbled from a few feet away, his voice strained. You gasped for air as Geralt broke away from the kiss, immediately moving down to nip and lick at your neck, inhaling your scent and letting out a rumbling growl against your throat. You gasped, gripping his shoulders tightly, careful to avoid touching his wound as you felt him biting you before soothing over the mark with his tongue.

Jaskier watched on in awe, his face flushed red as he watched Geralt biting your throat and rutting against you, his golden eyes glassy and clouded with lust.

“Smells so fucking good,” Geralt growled down at you, nuzzling under your neck and licking a stripe up your jaw. You whimpered, gasping softly as you felt the outline of his heavy cock through his trousers, already hard and thick. You saw movement out of the corner of your eye and looked up to see Jaskier stepping closer, pupils blown wide as he watched the two of you.

“So, uh, you want me to stay and help?” He asked, unable to take his eyes off of you. Geralt was completely ignoring him, alternating between stripping off his layers of armor and marking your neck. You nodded at Jaskier, gasping as Geralt once again bit you. He didn’t break the skin, to your surprise, but you knew that there would be a bruise there come morning.

“Yeah, uh, I figure it’ll be easier this way— he can have me first and when I’m tired he can, fuck— he can have you,” you spoke, trying to ignore the older mans mouth on your flushed skin, his teeth and tongue already driving you mad. Jaskier nodded, wringing his hands together awkwardly before glancing to Geralt who now had his armor and shirt removed, allowing Jaskier’s eyes to rake over his pale skin, marred with scars both new and old, telling the story of his exploits and battles.

You let out a startled yelp when you were suddenly flipped over onto your stomach, Geralt’s hands moving to your hips to yank your ass up, growling as he began tugging down your pants and smallclothes. You quickly shrugged off your shirt, laying it down on the ground under you so that you at least had something soft to rest on. Jaskier watched, hypnotized as you were undressed, Geralt grasping your hips with a bruising grip as he leaned over you, his muscles rippling and flexing under his skin.

Jaskier had seen Geralt naked more times than he could count, familiar with the other mans body after years of traveling with him, bathing with him and cleaning his wounds after his hunts, but he had to admit, he had never seen Geralt… Like this. Feral, eager, his heavy cock hanging between his legs, precum already spilling from the flushed tip. It had Jaskier swallowing hard and shifting around awkwardly, trying to ignore the sudden tightness in his own trousers.

You let out a high-pitched moan when Geralt finally yanked your pants off, baring your wet cunt to him. You heard him growl behind you, one hand gripping your hip and one hand moving to splay over your back between your shoulders, pushing you down onto the ground roughly. You grunted, spreading your legs and allowing Geralt better access to your entrance.

“Okay— okay, Geralt, let’s just start out slow at first and then— FUCK!” you keened as you suddenly felt the head of his cock pressing into you, the thick shaft following soon after, splitting you open and driving deep inside you. Jaskier yelped in alarm, quickly moving down to kneel in front of you, hands on the ground to steady himself. You cried out as Geralt continued thrusting against you, letting out grunts and growls as he fucked himself deeper inside of your tight, wet heat, his entire body feeling like it was on fire.

“Shit, Y/N— are you okay?” Jaskier asked and you shakily lifted yourself up on your elbows, whimpering at the burn and stretch of Geralt’s heavy cock, pressing further inside you than you thought was possible. You bit your lip, nodding your head quickly as your eyes fluttered shut, trying to adjust to the feeling of being split open and spread so thoroughly and roughly. Geralt, at least, seemed to still be mildly aware of what was going on and was trying to hold himself back, stilling momentarily to let you get used to the feeling.

“Yeah,” you squeaked out at Jaskier, shuddering as you felt Geralt twitch inside of you. “He’s just, fuck— he’s big, I feel like he’s gonna tear me in half,” you whined, panting. Jaskier was now breathing heavily, staring at you, at your eyes and your lips and the beads of sweat glistening on your skin. Suddenly one of Geralt’s large hands was back on your shoulder, shoving you back down to the ground and you groaned as his cock shifted around inside of you, sliding deeper.

He leaned over you, panting and shuddering as you clenched and contracted around him. His eyes were closed in concentration, one hand gripping your hip tight enough to bruise and the other against your shoulder, pressing you down and making sure you stayed put. His weight on top of you effectively prevented you from squirming away, making sure you took every last inch of his thick length.

Jaskier was breathless, his cock now painfully hard as he watched Geralt take you, rutting you into the ground like a feral animal. He swallowed thickly, shakily reaching forward to touch the side of your face in a comforting gesture. As soon as he touched your fevered skin he heard Geralt let out a deep growl, the bard looking up to see a pair of glowing, cat-like eyes glaring at him.

“Mine,” the Witcher grunted, snapping his hips forward and finally burying the rest of his sizable cock inside of your cunt, his eyes rolling back in his head. You were panting now, wheezing and trying to catch your breath as you felt his heavy sac pressing against your entrance. You shuddered under him, sighing in relief as you knew he had no more for you, no more to press and fuck and grind into you.

“Fuck, Geralt, learn to share,” you grit out, finally beginning to relax and adjust to the feeling of the witcher’s cock inside of you. Jaskier looked up at Geralt again who was once again staring at him, his heated gaze sending shivers down the bard’s spine. Jaskier hesitantly pulled his eyes away from Geralt and back down to you, scooting closer.

“Is this okay? Are you okay? I can— I can take over whenever you want,” he said, licking his lips. You let out a breathy laugh, shaking your head and shifting around, spreading your legs wider to allow Geralt more room.

“No, it’s okay, I’m fine, really,” you mumbled, furrowing your eyebrows together as you felt Geralt slowly pulling out, before slamming back inside you with a grunt. Your entire body lurched forward from the force of his thrust, nearly landing on Jaskier’s lap as Geralt immediately began fucking you with force, gasping as you tightened around him.

“Fuck, that’s it, that’s a good girl,” Geralt growled, his eyes fluttering closed and lead lolling back as he continued pounding you, completely unfazed by the fact that Jaskier was staring. You moaned desperately with every forceful thrust, the once silent forest now overwhelmed with the cacophony of pleasured moans and skin against skin. The only intimacy you’d ever had before Geralt had been fumbling, awkward and disorganized, a stark contrast to the rough, thorough fuck Geralt was giving you now.

You had also never had someone watch before.

You glanced up at Jaskier, feeling a fresh wave of wetness hit your cunt as you noticed the obvious tent in his trousers, the bard still watching you and Geralt, his usually pale cheeks flushed pink.

“Are you enjoying the show?” you moaned out, Jaskier jolting slightly in surprise as he looked down at you, blinking. His lips parted slightly, tongue darting out to wet his dry lips before he nodded.

“Yes— yes, very much so,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically low and rumbling, making you shiver. Geralt, displeased with the sudden conversation between you and the bard immediately worked to bring your attention back to himself, reaching down to lift one of your legs, turning your body slightly in order to fuck you from a different angle. You immediately cried out, your eyes fluttering shut as you felt him roll his hips against yours, his body quivering.

“Gonna cum soon, my little whore. Will that satisfy you, then? Being fucked full, being bred?” Geralt rumbled, snapping his hips against yours. Even Jaskier let out a moan as the filth spilled from Geralt’s flushed lips, not sure whether to be glad he was able to watch Geralt have his way with you, or jealous that it wasn’t him, pressed beneath the Witcher, being split open on his heavy cock.

“Yes, fuck— yes, please, please,” you moaned loudly, pressing your hips back against Geralt’s as you felt your own orgasm drawing closer, nearly screaming when you felt Geralt reach down to cup your cunt, the heel of his palm pressing against your clit, the sudden friction sending you over the edge, your entire body tensing. 

Jaskier watched in awe as your mouth fell open, your eyes squeezing shut as Geralt gave one, two, three more thrusts and then he was stilling against you, balls deep inside your cunt as he let out a deep, feral growl that sounded more animal than man.

You whimpered loudly as you felt Geralt fill you, your body unable to contain the (frankly ridiculous) amount of cum as it began leaking out around his cock, coating your thighs and ass and he didn’t seem to stop, continuing to gasp and twitch against you, rutting his hips against yours in an effort to fill you as deeply as possible, the Succubus’ poison and his own feral instincts telling him to fuck you, fill you, breed you, use his fangs and scent and cum to mark you as his territory.

Jaskier, despite being untouched, couldn’t help but moan weakly as he watched his friend fill you, eyes raking over Geralt’s sweat-slicked body, muscles rippling and straining, the light of the moon almost giving Geralt’s pale hair and skin a ghostly glow. His eyes then moved down to you, watching the way your chest rose and fell, your breasts heaving, cunt flushed and well-fucked, dripping with cum.

Geralt seemed to momentarily withdraw from the lust-induced haze of the Succubus’ poison, gritting his teeth as he felt your slick walls contract around his oversensitive cock. He panted, taking a moment to gather himself before he loosened his grip on you, trying not to think about how hard his fingers were digging into your skin and how, come morning, you’ll be covered in bruises.

“Are you okay?” he rumbled, your eyes flicking up to his. You gave him a weak smile, biting your lower lip and nodding your head, trying to ignore that his cock was still hard and pulsing inside of you despite the fact he had just cum.

“Yeah,” you breathed, your throat raw from constant moaning. Geralt’s lips pressed together in a firm line, observing you and Jaskier and trying to ignore the scent of sex and lust in the air, his senses being overwhelmed with the combined smell of you and the bard. To his relief he smelled no fear, only want, need, pleasure, the scents swirling around him like an aromatic perfume, his cock hardening even further.

“Are you sure? I didn’t even prepare you properly, I could have…” Geralt trailed off, averting his gaze from you and trying to ignore the guilt welling up inside his chest. You sighed softly, shifting towards him and causing him to grunt as his oversensitive cock shifted inside of you.

“Geralt, I said I’m okay. Yeah, you didn’t prepare me or anything and it stung a bit but… I liked it. Everyone else has always been so gentle with me that it barely even felt like anything, treating me like I was some fragile thing that was going to break,” you murmured, looking up at Geralt who hummed softly, seeming to consider your words as he began rubbing small circles against your hips.

“It’s still not too late to leave and go back to the village,” Geralt said softly, trying to push down the feeling of nervousness that was welling up inside him, the fear that you and Jaskier would be frightened, disgusted, horrified with his actions. To his surprise you only laughed, shifting your hips towards him again and causing him to groan.

“Geralt, sometimes you listen about as well as Jaskier does. I told you, we’re not leaving you here,” you said, the Witcher giving you a soft smile. Jaskier let out a huff of indignation, crossing his arms over his chest in an effort to look more serious, although it only caused him to look more ridiculous thanks to his flushed cheeks and the very obvious bulge in his trousers.

“I’ll have you know I listen perfectly well,” he said, Geralt rolling his eyes.

“Fine. If you can listen so well, go get the oil from your pack and get yourself ready for me,” Geralt said, giving Jaskier a smirk. The bard immediately scrambled up, quickly moving back over to the campfire to rifle through his belongings. Geralt huffed softly in amusement at the bards eagerness, before bringing his attention back down to you. You swallowed thickly, feeling the heat return to your cheeks as his golden eyes stared down at you.

“So, shall I spend myself in this tight little cunt once more or do you want me to move to Jaskier?” He rumbled, slowly rocking his hips against you and drawing a gasp from your throat. You laid back down on the ground, spreading your legs and baring your throat to him in submission. Geralt let out a deep growl from with in his chest, eyes darkening as he felt lust clouding his mind once again.

“Such a sweet little thing for me, so obedient,” he praised you, eyes half lidded as he slowly worked his hips against yours, his cock easily sliding in and out thanks to your wetness combined with his seed from your previous coupling. You whimpered softly as he leaned down, pressing his nose under your jaw and inhaling deeply, scenting you. You were broken out of your thoughts as a blanket was spread out next to you, Jaskier plopping down on it with a huff.

“I swear, like horny teenagers you two are, I leave for only a moment and when I return you’re already rutting her again like a beast,” Jaskier scolded, although you could tell he didn’t really mean it. Your gaze flickered up to the brunette as he began tugging his clothes off, shivering as the cool night air hit his skin. Geralt smirked at Jaskier, looking the bard right in the eye as he continued working his cock inside of you.

“I don’t think you mind,” Geralt drawled, Jaskier swallowing thickly at the other mans heated gaze. “In fact, I think you quite like it, watching me fuck her and rut her,” Geralt said, noticing how Jaskier’s eyes widened and his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat.

“Maybe I do,” Jaskier said brusquely, his voice strained as he continued pulling off his clothes, his chest now completely bare. He was pale and smooth, save for a few scars dotted sparsely across his body, gained during his travels with Geralt. You continued writhing under the Witcher, your cunt sore and oversensitive from the rough fucking he gave you only moments ago.

“Oh, I know you do. I can smell it on you, smell the desire and lust rolling off your skin. Tell me, Jaskier, when I finally pull you down onto my cock and split you open, will you sing for me, my little lark? Or will you moan and cry out like a whore?” Geralt growled the last word, knowing it would get a reaction out of Jaskier and that it did, the bard immediately sputtering and opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water, trying to ignore the way his cock twitched at the Witcher’s vulgar and degrading words.

Jaskier let out a whine of relief as he finally removed the rest of his clothes, now able to palm his flushed and heavy cock. You moaned at the sight, at the knowledge that he was so hard and eager just from watching Geralt take you. Jaskier shakily uncorked the bottle of oil, pouring a generous amount onto his fingers before reaching around to begin preparing himself. Geralt watched in rapt fascination at the bard’s subtle reactions, the way his plush lips parted in a soft gasp, the way his hips twitched forward before grinding back against his slick fingers, the way his eyelids would flutter every time he pressed his fingers deeper inside of himself.

You whimpered as you felt heat building inside you once again, your entire body feeling like it was melting as Geralt continued fucking you, his hips snapping against yours, not as frantic as before but still rough, his calloused hands pressing you to the ground to ensure you couldn’t move away from his powerful thrusts. Jaskier in the meantime was conflicted, trying to figure out whether or not to watch you or Geralt, still fucking himself open with his fingers, his fat cock bobbing at the motion of his hips.

“Are you enjoying this, Jaskier, watching me fuck her open in front of you? Or are you jealous? Would you rather be in her place?” Geralt said, giving a particularly hard thrust that drew out a sharp whine from your throat. The bard’s eyes flickered down to look at you, watching the way your hands flexed as you fisted your hands into your shirt, your eyebrows knitted together and mouth hanging open, your body shuddering and twitching as your orgasm fast-approached.

“Gods, Geralt— the fucking mouth on you. If I knew you’d— shit, be this talkative I’d have found a succubus to bite you months ago,” Jaskier growled out, keening as he pressed a third finger into himself, the stretch dancing the line between pain and pleasure as he opened himself up. Geralt only let out a soft huff of laughter, before turning his attention back to you, his nostrils flaring at the delicious scent you were giving off.

“Are you going to cum, girl? Cum around my cock and milk it, let me fuck you full again?” Geralt growled, speeding up his thrusts and relishing the sounds you were making, the way your hips were pressing back against him, the way you cried out every time the fat head of his cock pressed against that spot deep inside of you.

“Please, Geralt, please, please,” you cried out, not even sure what you were begging for, your brain completely overwhelmed with pleasure. Geralt let out a low, rumbling moan, his hips stuttering as he felt his own impending orgasm. Jaskier watched with bated breath as Geralt once again reached under you to palm your cunt, this time choosing to pinch and roll your swollen clit between his fingers. You moaned loudly, panting and twitching against Geralt as you felt yourself cumming, the girth of his cock almost painful inside of you as you clenched around him.

“Fuck— that’s it, good girl, show Jaskier what a good little bitch you are for me,” the Witcher snarled, pressing his hips firmly against yours as he spilled inside you once again, making sure his throbbing cock was as deep in your cunt as possible. Jaskier moaned, pressing his fingers inside himself as far as he could, almost oblivious to the way his wrist ached as he ground back against his hand.

Geralt was panting, slowly coming down from the high of the Succubus’ poison once again. You whined as he slowly moved back, shivering as you felt the amount of cum that spilled out of you when he finally pulled out. You were sore and oversensitive, but you immediately found yourself missing the delicious stretch of his cock, feeling empty now that he was no longer inside of you.

Geralt sighed, lowering himself to his side and flopping down onto the ground, the coolness of the grass soothing his heated skin. Jaskier whimpered as he removed his fingers from himself, wiping off the excess oil on his discarded clothes as he stood on shaky legs, grabbing the blanket and moving it over to you and Geralt, letting you crawl on top of it before he sat down next to you.

Geralt watched you two silently, his golden eyes almost seeming to glow in the darkness. Jaskier swallowed thickly, a soft moan bubbling up in his throat as he realized that Geralt was still hard, his flushed length now resting against his stomach.

“So that— I mean, is that normal? Some sort of weird Witcher magic or did you just, I don’t know, sit there and let the Succubus chew on you for a while?” Jaskier said, still staring at the sizable cock. He had always thought that he was above average, or at least proportioned decently enough to keep men and women alike coming back again and again but oh, sweet Gods, Geralt was an absolute beast. Jaskier made a mental note to ask you later how you were able to take that thing inside yourself without being torn in half.

Geralt chuckled, feeling oddly pleased that his length was so captivating to the bard.

“I do have quite a bit of stamina from my mutations but no, this doesn’t usually happen,” he said, eyeing Jaskier who let out a soft noise of acknowledgement.

“What a pity,” Jaskier murmured, still staring at Geralt’s length, “Oh, the songs I could write about you and your divine dick,” Jaskier said dreamily, the Witcher giving him a disapproving look, like a parent that had just watched their child jump into a puddle of mud after specifically telling them not to. You groaned softly as you moved to rest your head against Geralt’s thigh, your eyes flicking up to look at Jaskier.

“I think if you write a song about his dick he’ll rip yours clean off,” you said, Geralt letting out a snort in response. Jaskier frowned, pursing his lips and sparing you a glance as he adjusted his position, leaning closer to Geralt who eyed him curiously.

“I think—” Jaskier said, reaching up to let the tips of his fingers dance across Geralt’s length, which twitched at the stimulation, “I think that Geralt, the kind-hearted and caring man that he is, would find it in himself to forgive me for writing a few odes to this magnificent specimen, if in return, I show him why I’m a bard,” Jaskier said simply, both you and Geralt quirking a brow at him.

“Because you’re a bawdy whore that can’t keep his dick to himself?” Geralt asked playfully, ignoring the scowl Jaskier made at his comment.

“No, Geralt, that is not why I’m a bard. I’m a bard because I’m good with my mouth and my hands,” he said simply, immediately lifting Geralt’s cock to his lips and taking the head into his mouth. Geralt grunted, hips twitching up at the sudden stimulation. You watched as Jaskier suckled the Witcher’s cock, a giddy, bubbly feeling building in your stomach as you realized that his cock probably still tasted of you, tasted of your slick and wetness and desire.

You watched Geralt’s face curiously as you reached up, using your thumb and forefinger to stroke the base of his cock, still flushed and heavy. The white-haired man gasped softly at the additional contact, watching you and Jaskier through half-lidded eyes. Jaskier pulled back, panting softly and reaching up to fist the Witcher’s cock, pulling his foreskin back to reveal the plump, flushed tip.

Geralt gasped when the brunette began laving little kitten licks on the head of his cock, squeezing his length as you moved your hands down to cup and fondle Geralt’s heavy sac, your breath catching in your throat as you watched Jaskier, all gentle touches and flushed cheeks, eyes closed in content as he continued lapping at the slit of Geralt’s cock which was already dripping precum.

“You two will be the death of me,” Geralt groaned, letting his head thump against the ground. You and Jaskier both smiled fondly, the bard taking the head of his cock back into his mouth, pressing the flat of his tongue against it and slowly working his way down. He had sucked cocks before, of course, but none were as thick as Geralt’s, so he took it slow, not wanting to ruin the night or have to explain to the village’s doctor why he had a dick-shaped hole in his esophagus.

You shifted to rest your upper half over Geralt’s leg, Jaskier opening his eyes to watch you curiously. You only gave him a wink before leaning forward, running your tongue over a large vein on the side of Geralt’s cock. The Witcher grunted loudly, fisting his hands into the grass below him at the feeling of two warm, slick tongues worshipping his heated flesh. He had felt many things in his life; pain, rage, sadness, fear, but none compared to the absolute overwhelming pleasure you and the bard were granting him.

“If you two don’t stop— fuck, I’m going to cum,” Geralt growled, Jaskier pulling back with a wet pop and licking his lips, gazing at Geralt with half-lidded eyes and flushed cheeks.

“That’s the idea,” he murmured sweetly before swallowing Geralt down once again, trying to relax his throat as best he could. You continued alternating between stroking and licking Geralt’s cock, heat rising in your cheeks as you realized how close your mouth was to Jaskier’s. The bard, ever the showoff, made it nearly halfway down the thick cock before needing to pull up again, panting.

Geralt groaned, forcing his eyes open and tilting his head up to watch the two of you suck him, his length twitching at the erotic sight before him. You and Jaskier pulled back momentarily, staring at each other for a moment as Jaskier glanced at Geralt before leaning over, whispering something in your ear. Geralt watched as your expression changed from curiosity to surprise to embarrassment, your wide doe-eyes darting over to Geralt before Jaskier pulled back, licking his lips.

“What are you two— oh fuck,” Geralt cried out, eyes rolling back in his head as Jaskier’s mouth met yours with the flushed and dripping head of his cock pressed in the middle. It took all of his restraint not to fuck up into the hot, slick mouths around him, overwhelming him with pleasure. You whimpered softly as you felt Jaskier’s tongue brush against yours, Geralt’s cock twitching as you both wrapped your hand around his length, fingers intertwining as you both worked his cock.

“Fuck!” Geralt let out a loud snarl, his hips jerking upwards as he came, both you and Jaskier gasping in surprise as you felt the warmth of his cum coating your lips and tongues, leaking down his cock to cover your hands. You both licked him clean, continuing to slowly jerk him, feeling him shiver and grunt under you from overstimulation. Geralt wasn’t sure whether to be grateful or upset when you and the bard pulled away, panting and licking the remnants of his seed off your hands.

Geralt sighed in content, taking a moment to relax before slowly sitting up to look at you and Jaskier. You were both staring at him, pupils blown wide and lips parted. Jaskier shifted uncomfortably, Geralt’s gaze moving to the bards still hard cock, hanging fat and heavy between his legs.

“As much as I would enjoy pinning you down and fucking you I think that’ll you’ll have to settle on riding me, little lark,” Geralt rumbled, Jaskier letting out a soft whine as he noticed that Geralt’s cock was still hard. You grabbed the discarded bottle of oil from the blanket, handing it to Jaskier who uncorked it, licking his lips and pouring a decent amount onto his hand before reaching down and gripping the Witcher’s cock once again.

“So uh, Geralt— I know with Y/N you sort of just, you know, went for it, but I would like to remind you that, ah, I’m a bit more fragile than that,” Jaskier began rambling, staring wide-eyed at Geralt’s thick length. Geralt grunted, rolling his hips up into the bard’s tight grip.

“This isn’t my first time with a man, Jaskier, but if you don’t want this you can go back to the village and I can finish myself off,” he groaned, his eyebrows furrowed and eyes closed in concentration, trying to focus on the feeling of Jaskier’s hand, somehow both rough and soft at the same time, fisting his cock. Jaskier scoffed, tightening his grip slightly and drawing a choked gasp from the man under him.

“Oh please, this isn’t my first time with a man either, Geralt, and you know me, I’m never one to back down from a challenge,” he murmured, shifting around to face Geralt’s feet and straddle the larger mans waist, biting his lip as he felt the plump head of the Witcher’s cock brush against his entrance. Geralt reached up, gripping the bards hips and squeezing gently, the uncharacteristically soft gesture making Jaskier smile softly.

You watched with bated breath as Jaskier reached back, gripping Geralt’s cock and guiding it to his ass, letting out a sharp gasp as the head pressed inside.

“Easy, Jaskier, take your time,” Geralt rumbled from under him, eyes fluttering shut at the sudden tight, wet heat of the brunette’s body. Jaskier only let out a choked whine in response as he began sliding down, eyebrows furrowed and jaw clenched at the burn and stretch. You shifted forward, sitting up on your knees and reaching up to cup the side of Jaskier’s face, his eyes fluttering open to meet yours, already glassy and unfocused.

“That’s it, that’s a good boy, just relax yourself,” the Witcher growled as his cock slipped further inside, Jaskier keening and grinding down against Geralt. Jaskier nearly cried in relief when he finally felt Geralt’s hips connect with his, knowing the white-haired man was now balls deep inside him. They both sat for a moment, panting and shuddering, Jaskier trying desperately to adjust to the feeling of being fucked open like this, being speared on a cock so thick and made to take every last inch.

The bard sighed in content, reaching down to lay his hands over Geralt’s, which were still resting on his hips. He licked his lips, rocking back against the Witcher.

“Okay, fuck— I’m okay, you can go now, come on, don’t make me beg,” he whined, a shiver running up his spine as he heard Geralt let out a deep, animalistic growl under him. He nearly screamed when Geralt suddenly lifted him up before letting him drop back down, the Witcher’s cock sliding back in easily thanks to the oil. Geralt repeated the process again and again, Jaskier quickly losing track of how many times the older man had fucked into him, his mind completely lost to the overwhelming pleasure.

You watched with wide eyes, enraptured by the sounds coming out of Jaskier’s mouth. You had always thought that there would be no sound more beautiful and ethereal than the sound of Jaskier’s voice when he danced and spun around a tavern, singing his songs and strumming his lute, but now you were sure that his moans, breathless and desperate, were the most gorgeous noises you would ever hear from him.

He let out a litany of sounds, whines and pleas and wails, tears of pleasure welling up in his eyes as he was split on Geralt’s fat cock, his own cock now drooling precum all over his stomach and thighs.

“Gods, Geralt— fuck, please, you’re so good, so absolutely amazing, I feel like you’re in my stomach, oh—“ Jaskier let out a choked, broken moan as Geralt sped up, grunting and snarling under the bard, his hands now gripping the smaller mans hips tightly enough to bruise as he fucked up into him, his hips rolling upwards to meet the bards thrusts back against him.

“Fuck, I was right, you really do moan like a whore,” Geralt snarled, Jaskier keening and throwing his hips back against the older man, pleasure shooting like electricity through his body as Geralt brushed against that spot deep inside him that made him scream.

“Geralt, please, it’s so much— please, keep talking, your voice— it’s so good, please,” Jaskier cried out desperately, his body beginning to twitch and shake with the force of his impending orgasm. He reached for his cock, only for Geralt to snarl, easily trapping both of the bards smaller hands in his own larger one, pinning them behind Jaskier’s back as he fucked up into the bard with renewed vigor.

“Don’t you dare, bard. You’re going to cum on your own, fuck yourself down on my cock and cum untouched like the whore you are,” Geralt growled, Jaskier crying out loudly at a particularly rough thrust. Geralt continued his frantic pace, his arms and thighs burning from the strain but he kept going, chasing his own pleasure and rutting as deep into the bard’s tight ass as he could.

“Come on then, my lark, cum for me. I can fucking smell it on you, smell how eager you are to cum on my cock, how eager you are to feel me fill you up and breed you like the bitch you are,” and with that Jaskier came with a wail of Geralt’s name, his body tensing and his cock twitching, thick ropes of cum spilling all over his stomach and thighs, painting his flushed skin white.

Geralt came seconds later with an animalistic noise, burying his cock as deep inside the brunette as he could, sitting up and holding Jaskier against his chest before sinking his teeth into Jaskier’s neck and drawing another whine from the bard. Geralt slowly opened his mouth, removing his teeth from Jaskier’s tender shoulder as his eyes fluttered open, revealing the sight of… Oh.

“Jaskier, for fuck sake,” he said in exasperation, Jaskier only letting out a dreamy sigh in response.

“Oh, yes, I know— it was so good, I feel like I’m in Heaven,” Jaskier murmured, Geralt huffing out a sigh.

“No, idiot, look at what you did,” Geralt said, Jaskier blinking a few times to focus his eyes, which immediately landed on your face, staring at him with wide, owlish eyes, his expression mirroring yours as he realized that not only did he paint his chest and thighs with his cum, but your face as well.

“Oh shit— did I do that?“ Jaskier let out a choked sound, reaching forward and beginning to wipe your face clean. Geralt rolled his eyes, lifting Jaskier up slowly so that he could pull his now softening cock out.

“Well, considering my cock was buried in your ass when I spent myself I’m going to assume that yes, you did that,” the Witcher grumbled, trying to ignore the shiver that ran down his spine at the pathetic, whimpering sound Jaskier made as he finally pulled out. Jaskier pulled up a discarded shirt, using it to wipe your face. You closed your eyes quickly, reaching to grab the shirt from his hands so you could clean the mess yourself.

“I ah, I’m terribly sorry about that, kind of got caught up in the moment, didn’t quite consider where I would be… Aiming,” Jaskier mumbled sheepishly. You pulled the shirt away from your face, glancing at it and frowning.

“Jaskier… Is this my shirt? Did you seriously just wipe your cum all over my shirt?” You asked incredulously, Jaskier looking down at the offending garment as he opened and closed his mouth, trying to find the words to respond.

“I think you fucked the last of his braincells out, Geralt,” you remarked, the bard huffing and scowling at you. Geralt smiled softly, groaning and pushing Jaskier so he was no longer sitting on his sore thighs. You all sat in silence for a moment before Jaskier spoke, looking over to Geralt.

“So, are you feeling any better? Dick not too chaffed? I mean, if it is I can definitely help, I’ve still got some of that lovely oil I bought back when we were—“ Geralt silenced Jaskier with a soft kick to his shin, the bard yelping. You giggled softly, taking the opportunity while Jaskier was distracted to grab his discarded shirt, slipping it on along with your underwear while he was bickering with Geralt.

“Are you two going to fight all night or can we go lay down by the campfire where it’s warm?” You asked, the two men looking up at you. Geralt frowned and scrunched his nose up when he realized you were wearing Jaskier’s shirt, the bard on the other hand completely oblivious to your new wardrobe as he stood up with a grunt, beginning to yank his smallclothes and trousers back on.

You immediately noticed Geralt’s sour expression, crossing your arms over your chest and raising a brow at the Witcher.

“You’re wearing his shirt,” he grumbled as if he already knew what you were going to ask, Jaskier blinking in surprise and glancing to you, a wide smile on his face.

“Why that she is! It looks quite lovely on you, I must say,” the bard hummed, Geralt rolling his eyes and standing up with a groan, his muscles aching and sore. Jaskier reached out automatically to steady Geralt, giving him a soft smile.

“Geralt,” you said, a teasing lilt to your voice as you eyed the Witcher. “Are you jealous? Is the big, bad White Wolf jealous that I’m wearing someone else’s shirt?” You asked, Geralt sighing loudly as he began walking back over to the campfire, not even slightly embarrassed to be the only one not wearing anything. You and Jaskier followed him, the bard sharing a mischievous look with you as you grabbed your bedrolls, laying them next to Geralt’s as he sat down.

Geralt gave no protest as you and Jaskier settled in on either side of him, piling your blankets together and snuggling closer. Geralt grunted as Jaskier slung one of his legs over his own, effectively trapping him. Geralt finally laid down with a huff, eyebrows furrowing as you immediately laid one of your hands on his chest, nuzzling into his side. You looked up at him, his golden eyes peering at you curiously.

“What’s wrong?” you murmured, staring up at him, Jaskier moving his head to look up at Geralt.

“I—“ he paused, looking away and considering his next words. “I don’t know why you two want to lay next to me after… That. I was rough with both of you. You’re fragile,” he murmured, refusing to meet your eyes. You and Jaskier exchanged a look before snuggling closer to Geralt, running your fingers over one of his scars absentmindedly.

“We already told you, we wanted it. We loved it and you weren’t too rough, we trust you. But, I mean— you didn’t— you didn’t really have a choice so if you don’t want us to sleep next to you I understand,“ you sighed, feeling guilt at the thought that Geralt was so concerned with you and Jaskier that he might have ignored his own wants. You shifted in order to move away but Geralt quickly wrapped a large, muscled arm around you, pulling you back against his chest.

“No. I wanted it. I just— didn’t think you would want it too,” Geralt rumbled, still staring up at the sky, trying to avoid your gaze. You relaxed against him again, finally closing your eyes.

“Oh Geralt, you really are oblivious,” Jaskier murmured with a sigh of content, the Witcher grumbling and wrapping an arm around the bard, squeezing him lightly and making the brunette smile.

For the first time in what felt like years, you all slept peacefully.

#The Witcher #Geralt x Reader #Jaskier x Reader #Geralt x Jaskier x Reader #Geralt/Reader #Geralt/Jaskier #Geralt/Jaskier/Reader

[darkhymns-fic]

All Wrapped Up

Sometimes the comfort of each other's clothing can be more than enough.

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia Characters/Pairing: Lloyd Irving/Colette Brunel Rating: G Mirror Link: AO3 Notes: For Colloyd Week Day 2: Outfit Swap / Role Reversal, but mainly more about the outfits here! (Also I apparently very much like colloyd and sleeping put together).

--

In his jacket, Colette looked so small. It was one thing Lloyd noticed above all else.

On their annual visit to Iselia, they always went to Dirk’s. The dwarf was usually out on commission work, leaving the house to themselves. Lloyd was used to it, having learned to take care of Noishe, some of the gardening and other household chores that his father expected of him while he was gone. And with Colette, it was double the help!

But this time, they were too weary to do much except go to bed and give Noishe a few pats on the head as the animal snored in his stable. Lloyd had struggled just getting his jacket off, but once he finally did, laying it across the chair next to his small desk, Colette had picked it up immediately.

“Hm? Why’re you taking that?”

She wrapped it around her shoulders, clasping a few buttons near the collar. “It’s my new blanket!” she announced. Then went to curl up on his bed, careful to not knock over any of the potted plants that lined the front wooden headboard. “It’s so warm and comfy.”

“We have actual blankets though! I even brought up several from the closet…” But Colette only poked out her tongue at him, then snuggled more into the red outfit, hands already engulfed by the long sleeves.

In his jacket and in his bed, she looked so tiny that he could have carried her easily in his arms (though maybe not as easily as she could carry him).

His bed was already quite small on its own, having only been meant for himself. But it barely even fit him that well now, his father saying that assessing the height of humans was always a gamble. Standing an even two feet over the dwarf, Lloyd figured that made sense. He didn’t really understand just how tall dwarves grew either!

Lloyd soon climbed into bed as well, dragging along one of the blankets he had retrieved, although it was musty from having been locked away. He coughed away the dust clouds that came as he tried to air it out, eyes occasionally straying to Colette, who seemed to already be fast asleep. The jacket bundled up around her, its white ribbons running down her side to fall over the side of the bed. Her soft breathing was all he heard once he stopped hacking his lungs out.

And still she looked so small.

Lloyd always tried to sleep at a reasonable time when he could, or he wouldn’t be at his best for the next day! These were drilled into him by Dirk, who always expected him to be up as soon as the sun peeked over the horizon. Yet with all that knowledge, Lloyd couldn’t get to sleep, even with the still-dusty blanket on him.

Colette was sleeping throughout his tossing and turning, until finally Lloyd just decided to throw the blanket to the floor in frustration. Sleeping was dumb anyway.

His eyes had long adjusted to the dark in the room; but he had seen the same ivy clinging to his walls a thousand times, even if he hadn’t been home for a year. It was amazing how everything managed to stay the same, the familiar scuff marks on the floorboards when Lloyd first tried practicing with his swords, or his lockbox of picks, knives and tools still staying in that one place on his desk since he last left. He wondered if any old projects he had started on and then abandoned would be in there too.

But these were all things he was bored already of seeing. So he turned on his side, watching Colette sleep. It wasn’t weird. Colette had admitted she did the same thing too!

Her hands were held just beneath her chin, her face pressed into the pillow. The bed was still small, and he tried his best not to crowd her, one of his legs dangling over the side. But maybe he moved in just a bit closer, to get more comfortable, to not wake her up.

Colette, you’re still up.

Hehe…I couldn’t sleep.

The two moons hung in the sky just outside his balcony window. It was strange seeing them there, seeing them light up the night even more so. But they illuminated the room now, falling over Colette, and the gentle way her chest rose as she breathed. It painted his red jacket to a shade of white that could only be seen in the dark. So deeply she slept, eyelashes fluttering slightly, sinking inside dreams that he couldn’t see.

Colette deserved to sleep, after everything, but somehow, he could barely stop himself as he reached out to poke her cheek in curiosity.

“Ah…” Colette uttered in her sleep, her forehead scrunched.

“Uh oh.” Lloyd instantly took back his hand, but it was too late. Colette was already blinking awake, the jacket slipping a bit from her shoulders.

“Lloyd…?” she asked, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand.

“Um… good dreams?” he asked with a grin. But that didn’t take away the fact that he had messed up. “Sorry…just couldn’t sleep.”

“Oh…how come?” Colette was still laying on her side, both facing one another within his small bed. “Did you not eat enough earlier?”

“I am kinda hungry…” he said, thinking back to the delicious beef and pork stew they had earlier… “I think it’s just this bed… I feel too big for it now.”

Colette smiled then, though she yawned right after. “Hehe. It’s because you’re growing up.”

“Well, so are you!” Lloyd stated. “Isn’t this bed too cramped for you also?”

“Hm, not really. It feels so comfy.” She hugged the jacket more to herself, eyes half-lidded. “It’s like you’re all around me.”

Lloyd had thought he had gotten over blushing like an idiot, but that was what he did, and the two moons wouldn’t exactly do a good job of hiding it either. “Well, I am actually right here too…”

Colette laughed softly, looking up at him with those tired eyes. Her hands clasped tightly around his jacket to keep her inside. “Maybe you just need something like that though. I’m already getting sleepy again…”

“So I just make you fall asleep!” Lloyd said in a fake-offended tone. “Didn’t know I was that boring.”

“It’s okay. It’s really useful actually! I always have a full night’s sleep when you’re around.”

“Hey…” Lloyd whined. “I was just joking before…”

Another giggle, and that made him laugh too. Something about the night always brought out something in them both, to make them want to keep talking, long after the sun had set. Well, if one didn’t count Colette already falling asleep earlier.

“Well, though?” Colette asked him. “Did you wanna be able to sleep? I bet I have something that can help!”

“Sure, I guess,” Lloyd said, not super concerned with that if it meant he could just hang out with Colette for most of the night. “Or is this just your way of trying to get rid of me?”

“Aw, hehe, you’re silly!” Colette would only say before she turned away from him. He couldn’t tell what she was doing, but it seemed like she was going to reach for something?

“Colette, you totally avoided the question!” he complained. Then suddenly his face was covered, some sort of fabric thrown over him. “Ah!”

“Oh…I guess it’s too small on you?” He heard Colette’s question, before whatever thing was on him was being pulled down over his head. “If we just… Or maybe your head is too big!”

“My head is normal-sized!” he argued back, until he finally could see again, popping through an opening in the fabric. “Gah… Uh, what am I…?” He looked down, the moonlight highlighting the white, glaring off the golden buttons sewn near the shoulders.

Colette was sitting up now, his jacket slipping off her slightly. She looked at him with such pride. “It looks cute on you!”

Just as his red jacket looked so large on her, so did her overcoat, despite its much too small head opening. Its front flaps laid out over the bed, blue streaks cutting through the middle. He felt the other outfittings of the outfit hang off his back, and it also… “Is it always this heavy?”

Colette tilted her head, considering. “Hm, it might be? I guess I never noticed.”

“There’s no way!” he said, but maybe it just took some adjusting. Once he felt more fitted to the overcoat, Lloyd also sat up straight, hands on his waist. “Hm, needs more red,” he stated.

“Oh yeah! Then we can match,” she giggled. “You can keep that one.”

“Really? Well, if you say so.” While it didn’t exactly fit him perfectly, the ends of the overcoat just barely reaching his waist, he could already see a few of its benefits. “It’s super easy to move in!”

“Mm! And it’s also good to keep warm in too!”

“Eh, really? But it’s like all open here!” Lloyd rushed his arms out from underneath the overcoat, unhindered by the flaps. “See?”

“Oh, well with my dress, it keeps me warm. Did you want to have that too?”

“I-I don’t think so,” Lloyd said, another flush to his cheeks. “Also that definitely won’t fit me!”

He wanted to keep talking about silly things with Colette, the night outside rustling from the oak trees that surrounded the house, crickets chirping just underneath his windowsill, but he caught a familiar scent too from what he wore. It’s her, he thought, his chest feeling hot. Like she’s around me…

Colette laid back on the bed again, wrapped in his jacket. She looked up at him with a sleepy, kind of goofy smile on her face. “It’s so warm…”

“Dork,” he whispered, eyes feeling just slightly heavy. “You know…I haven’t really washed that in a while…”

“Mmhmm…”

And just like that, Colette was asleep again, clutching at the pillow she laid on, cheeks pressed so firmly against it. She was cute, and he was tempted to kiss her, but he didn’t want to force her awake again.

Besides, maybe he was finally getting a bit sleepy.

“This would work better…if I was in your room…” he mumbled, laying back down on his side, watching her face. Lips slightly parted, the soft rush of breath that left her in an even rhythm, and the moonlight sliding down her hair and onto the jacket she held.

It was like she was around him, but it wasn’t enough, even with her overcoat on him. So he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her in close, as slowly as he could so that she wouldn’t wake. Maybe she was dreaming her own good dreams, too. She only slightly shifted but was soon leaning against his chest, her smile peeking through his own jacket collar.

She looked so small, like she’d disappear if he wasn’t too careful. But he had to sleep soon, or he wouldn’t be at his best tomorrow. He had to…and she promised to stay with him. He didn’t have to worry now.

Still watching her as the hour passed, he couldn’t resist another poke on her cheek, half-guided by sleep.

“…Nn…” she muttered, shaking her head. “Lloyd…”

“Sorry,” he whispered, going back to holding her. But he eventually fell asleep too, wrapped in each other’s jackets, wrapped in each other’s arms, the night feeling so warm.

#colloyd #tales of symphonia #colloydweek2020 #lloyd irving #colette brunel

[meditatemoremedicateless]

Maxine Caulfield: Old Friends (1/2)

Fandom: Life is Strange Ship: Max Caulfield / Max Caulfield Tags: selfcest, involuntary drug use, inspired by Undertale, post-Life in Snippets Words: 5,464

Summary: In a new timeline without Sean Prescott, Max Caulfield remains in Seattle, doing her best to become acquainted with friends she's never met and handling Victoria's insufferable family. On the night following an art show at the Chase Space, Mark Jefferson takes two bullets to the chest in his hotel room. On the elevator ride down from his room, Max meets the girl from the mirror, another Max from an abandoned timeline. They chat like old friends and share a smoke.

Unfortunately, the Other Max isn't here for a friendly chat.

Dedicated to the “Super Maxine” fan art by @zai-fanart

Playlist: Transistor Original Soundtrack, “Vanishing Point” Transistor Original Soundtrack, “We All Become” Transistor Original Soundtrack, “Old Friends” Transistor Original Soundtrack, “Paper Boats”

Jefferson was still unconscious and Max was getting impatient. She'd never tried speeding time up before, but she was seriously starting to consider it. Whatever Jefferson had tried to dose her with took forever to wear off - which was probably the point, she supposed. Still, she'd spent the better part of the night sitting on his hotel bed watching cartoons and anime, wishing she'd brought snacks. It was only her third murder and she still hadn't quite gotten used to the prep work.

Once he started to make small movements, trying to open his eyes or shifting in his restraints, Max gagged him with his tie.

Eventually, he was conscious enough to struggle and groan, making it hard to concentrate on the TV. Once he managed to maintain this for a few minutes, Max figured it was time they had a talk. She retrieved her gun from the night stand, cocked it, and leveled it at Jefferson's face.

His eyes focused as well as they could on the barrel so close, a little cross-eyed. He stopped his groaning, instead just breathing heavily into his gag, small amounts of drool accumulating on his chin. There was something about this image that left him so distant from the monster Max remembered that, for a few seconds, she convinced herself this wasn't even the same man.

Then again, he had dosed her drink. Maybe it didn't matter. The world could use one less rapist.

"If you try to scream, call for help - anything - you'll choke on your own blood. Do you understand?"

For a second there was only the sound of his breathing, but then the message made it through, and he nodded vigorously.

"Good."

Max pulled the tie from around his face and tossed it on the bed. She'd expected him to try something stupid - it's not like the chair was a perfect place to tape him up, after all - but he remained as cool as could be expected, only working his jaw up and down a little to adjust.

Max pulled out the desk chair and sat it across from him, sitting down and relaxing, the gun never deviating from his torso. She hated sitting with her ankles neatly crossed, but she wasn't left with a lot of options thanks to the black cocktail dress Victoria had picked out for her last night.

When she said nothing, he figured it was his turn. "Max," he said after a moment of struggling to remember, "what - are you doing? What did-"

"You dosed my scotch and I returned the favor. The duct tape was in your bag," Max said, contempt written all over her face. "You don't really change, do you?"

Jefferson blinked a few times, slowly, concentration clearly a struggle. "How did you-? Why do you have a gun?"

She tilted her head, as if the question were curious to her. "Because I want to talk to you, Mr. Jefferson. Or should I call you Mark?"

"I-"

"But I don't actually want you to talk back." She liked the way he shut up when she tilted the gun up towards his face, even if it wasn't any more dangerous than what she was already doing. Self preservation was so predictable when you were just a person. "Sorry, should have clarified that."

Jefferson wet his lips and took a deep breath, but said nothing.

"Perfect," Max smiled in response. "You're learning."

She said, "I just thought, before things go any further, you should know why this is happening to you."

After a pause, he replied, "Okay," just above a whisper.

Max nodded, taking a moment to collect her thoughts. "Where to begin . . . where to begin."

"Hm. Okay, I know. I'll tell you a story. Once there was a famous fashion photographer named Mark Jefferson who liked taking pictures in black and white. His style was known all over the art world for capturing the dynamics of power - between state and citizen, between military and civilian, between men and women, between light and dark. But there was another element to his style that, for some reason, nobody talked about. Mark Jefferson loved to make himself a part of his photos. Not including himself in the frame, no, no," Max laughed, bitterness creeping into her voice. She shook her head. "No, of course not, then he'd be just like some millenial tween taking a selfie, and he'd despise that."

"Mark Jefferson liked to watch innocence die. And there was nothing he found so innocent or so beautiful as young girls at the edge of adulthood, blossoming despite the cynicism of the world. He was so proud of that, too, of his eye to find these girls, these special girls . . ." Max sighed, a far-off look in her eye.

Mark took the break in the monologue to start, "Now, Max, I don't know where you're getting any of this absurd fantasy, but I can promise you I'm no . . . pedophile," he grimaced with genuine disgust at the word, "if that's what you think I am. I'm just a photographer. And you're eighteen and-"

Max held a finger up to her lips and gave a 'Shh.' He quickly trailed off, and Max laughed in delight.

"You're right! I forgot that that was so important to you. 'I'm not a pedophile . I'm not a rapist. I'm an artist.'" This was clearly hilarious to her, but his face only grew more anxious.

When she recovered, Max continued, "You're right, I'm so sorry. You like to drug them, watch them wake up slowly so you can see the light, that beautiful innocence, die in their eyes, suck it away like some sort of vampire and then spit them back out. You'd destroy a girl, but you wouldn't like, fuck them." Max pondered that for a second. "Well, except when you do. You're kind of all-around nasty."

There was a long break while Mark looked her over carefully, as if he couldn't believe this was the same giggling, moronic girl he'd brought back to his room the night before. The stuttering admiration and heavy makeup had all been washed away and he couldn't seem to believe his eyes. Was it because she knew? Or was it because he'd never thought her, in particular, capable of this?

His voice lost its gentleness, becoming flat and rough. "You know the website, I take it?"

Max had never had the edge to actually take a look at it until last night, when she was trying to fill the hours until he woke up. It was horrifying, somehow worse than the morning she'd found the bunker underneath the Prescott barn despite the fact that she didn't recognize any of the girls from the photographs. There were just so many. So many beautiful, innocent young girls who'd probably had careers, bright futures, trusting relationships snatched away in the blink of a camera. It's not that she knew the psychological weight of it, really - she hadn't stuck around long enough to ask Kate what it had been like - but she still remembered the poison that filled her body and her heart when she was dosed the first time, and she couldn't imagine the hours underneath his lens that these girls had had to endure.

Max pushed out a small smile to keep her confidence. "I've taken a look, yeah."

His eyes narrowed, then relaxed - his whole face relaxed and his tone softened again. "Then what do you want? Is this all some game for millions in blackmail that I don't have?"

Max's smile was real this time. "Oh, nah." She stood up from the chair, just so she could look down at him. "I just wanted to watch the light die from your eyes."

He registered her meaning as she raised the gun at his chest. "Now, Max-"

He was never able to finish his sentence thanks to two bullets embedding themselves somewhere inside his rib cage. Blood welled up in his mouth as his lungs filled, drowning the already-dead man.

"Hold the elevator, please."

A hand shot out of the elevator to keep it open, and Max slipped inside quickly, hitting Lobby and then darting to the opposite corner. She pulled herself up on the hand railing, doing her best not to look at the other passenger in the elevator.

"It wouldn't kill you to say 'hello.'"

A shiver ran up Max's spine as she heard the voice, and she looked up. At first, the face she saw looked just like any other stranger - a medium-height brunette with shoulder-length hair, a plaid shirt that immediately pinged Max's gaydar tied around their waist. But she had an eye for images, and it only took her a second to recognize them as familiar, if flipped from how she normally saw them.

It was her. Herself. Max. Except not behind the mirror anymore .

"Max?" The word had no volume behind it, but they seemed to get it anyway, and their face split into a grin.

"Surprised to see me?" the other Max asked, but Max had already flung herself across the elevator, and they pulled her into a tight hug. The other Max was taller, and, she realized, older than she remembered. Time had not passed for them equally. Apparently, Max still had some growing to do.

"God, Max. I haven't seen you since the Lighthouse." Max held on a bit longer, then took a step back, looking them over again. Now that she had a chance to look, everything about this Max seemed a little aged up, clearly on the other side of twenty. "That was . . . months ago. But it looks like it's been longer for you."

"Hah, yeah," they said, lifting their hand up and rotating it slowly, as if they could see the age on it. "A little bit. Plus, I go by Maxine now."

Max swiped her eyebrow to show her relief. "Whew. I go exclusively by 'Max' now so that works out. You would not believe how confusing it is trying to explain running into you."

Maxine quirked their eyebrows. "No kidding, sheesh."

The elevator reached the lobby and the doors slid open. Max hadn't realized that Maxine hadn't chosen a floor, they'd just arrived on the floor Max was on. Which was . . . pretty weird.

As they left the elevator, Max asked, "So what are you doing here?"

They both seemed to be making their way towards the lobby doors, which further confused Max, even if it was convenient.

Maxine shrugged, gesturing at the revolving door. "Why don't we take a walk and we can catch up some? Do you smoke?"

Max sighed in relief. "Oh thank god. This dress didn't have anywhere to put them and I've been in it all night. Please tell me you have-"

Maxine held up a white lighter before Max could even finish the question, and smirked. Then they fished in their jeans pockets until they found their cigarettes, offering one to Max first before sticking one in their mouth as they left the hotel.

"Good choice on the dress, by the way," Maxine said as they gave Max a once-over. "You look hot."

Max gave them a playful shove, but it only made them laugh. They paused just outside the hotel to light their cigarettes, then turned left and just started walking.

Max was a little pink and didn't want to think about how weird that was. "Thanks," she finally replied. "Victoria picked it out for me."

Maxine quirked their eyebrows in surprise again, but said nothing for the time.

After the awkwardness was given a little time to fade, Maxine suddenly said, "So, you got Mark. Nice."

Max found a way to choke on her smoke despite the fact that this body had apparently been smoking for years. Maxine shot her a look of amusement but didn't add anything more until she was done.

Then Max half-yelled, "What the fuck?!"

Maxine laughed, then replied, "What? I was on my way to do it myself - I didn't expect to find you needing an escape elevator."

Max considered shock or confusion. But, honestly, somewhere amidst the whole ascending to godhood or whatever she had kind of gotten over the peculiarities of time travel and interdimensional overlap. This stuff happens. You just kind of have to roll with it.

So she just rolled her eyes and groaned. "God. You should have shown up hours ago so I'd have something to do."

"Wow, in front of Mark?" Maxine took a drag from her cigarette, exhaling into the air above them. "That's a bold move."

Now Max was just flustered. Why in the world were they hitting on themself? Why was she into it? And on a scale of one to ten how badly did she need to kink shame her alter ego?

"So," Max said, "What brings you here?"

"Oh, you know. I had some time to kill."

They both snickered.

A little further down the sidewalk, Maxine spotted a Starbucks. "Come on," they said, tapping Max on the small of her back and nodding towards it. "I'll buy you a coffee and we can catch up."

They both had similar taste in coffee, except somehow Maxine had an even greater love of sugar and Max was left in awe of their power. Max had been anticipating creeping into her room in these early hours, unable to sleep from the images of Mark's body. But she wasn't slinking about, and even the thought of Mark's death didn't induce any guilt. Killing Sean had been so much harder, and she wasn't even the person who pulled the trigger that time.

"I like your necklace," Max said, tilting her coffee at Maxine. "Three bullets? What's up with that?"

"Oh, this?" Maxine lifted it up between them. The bullet casings were smooth and bright, pretty even - but the style just seemed so not her .

Maxine laughed and said, "Yeah, Chloe gave this to me after I saved her ass a few times. She thought it was three and it was all symbolic and shit, but it was more like . . ." they paused, looking up at the ceiling to count.

They mouthed the numbers as they counted, which Max had never realized was so adorable until just now. She had always been afraid that mean kids from middle school were right and all her little quirks were just spazzy. But, no, Victoria was right. Max(ine) was cute as a button.

Just as Max was beginning to lose herself to focusing on Maxine's tiniest movements, Maxine finished and said, "Nine, I guess. I mean she only actually died four times, but after a while I found it best to stop telling her. I think it made her a little depressed."

That sobered up the mood real quick. Max's coffee was still a little bit bitter, and she wondered if she should have added more sugar.

Something finally clicked. "So," Max said as she put her coffee back down on the table, "you're not the Max I met before. She gave up her powers - and Chloe. You didn't." The realization that Max had encountered the third duplicate of herself left her uneasy. Every time she met another one, she became increasingly nervous that the scene Sean had shown her was true - that hopping across timelines left a Max behind to clean up her mess. She had turned time back as little as she possibly could just in case, but she still wanted to believe that she had nothing to do with the fact that there were so many other Maxes running around.

Maxine shrugged and gave a sad smile. "Yeah, sorry. You just seemed excited and I wasn't sure how to . . . tell you."

"It's okay."

It didn't really feel okay, to be honest, but that wasn't Maxine's fault. The Max behind the mirror was gone for good. It was just depressing to hold onto hope that they'd see each other again.

Maxine cleared their throat. "So, tell me about your world! How'd you end up knowing Jefferson and staying in Seattle?"

"Hmm." How to tell the story?

Occasionally people would glance over at them, as suspicious as the barista who had taken their order had been. The two of them were clearly identical except for the age gap, even if their clothes and hair were completely different. Maybe if Max was still wearing her makeup they would just pass as strangely similar sisters, but without it they even had the same freckles, and people noticed. Still, no one comes to the conclusion hat time travel is involved. How could they?

"So. Short version? I transfered to Blackwell, joined the Vortex Club, dated Victoria, met Chloe again, Victoria got super powers, Frank got super powers, we found a secret bunker underneath the Prescott's barn, Victoria figured out it was Jefferson's, Kate took a call from Sean, Rachel possessed me for a bit, then Nathan killed his dad."

Maxine was having a total face journey as Max rattled off the year's past events - but that was just September and October, after all.

"Then I realized I could control time, re-did the week, learned everything I could about Sean and Jefferson, sent Frank way back in time, ended up in this timeline. Victoria and I are still dating, but we're here. Nathan isn't kidnapping or murdering everyone and is like, a prodigy I guess. Plus Rachel visits us sometimes and I think she has a thing for Nathan. Or me. Or both. I can't really tell - she's got powers and it makes everything complicated." Max sipped her coffee again, trying to remember any other good details. "Oh, and Kate and Chloe have like, a thing. Like they fight crime or something. I don't really get it but apparently Arcadia Bay really sucks now."

"Hm." Maxine drummed their fingers on the table for a second as they mulled that all over. Finally, they said, "So, Victoria's your girlfriend? And she picks out your clothes?"

Max stuck out her tongue at Maxine's mocking tone. "Only the nice ones," she replied.

Maxine's face told her that didn't make things better. Max huffed. They both took sips of their coffee.

"But, yeah. Victoria's my girlfriend. But things are kind of . . . weird now."

Maxine was leaning against their hand lazily now. "How so?"

Max shrugged. "I dunno," she lied. Then, realizing there was basically nothing to lose in explaining, she said, "Well, okay, so. There was an intermediate timeline between this one and when Victoria and I started dating. And in that timeline, I was a really bad partner, basically, and she kind of fell for somebody else. It kind of . . . well, it sucked. She should have just broken up with me. I still don't get why she didn't."

God. Now it was all just rushing out. It was nice to be honest with someone, but it just felt like garbage. "I'm . . . still not a very good partner. I miss the old her too much, I think."

Taking a breath and swallowing after saying that felt like taking a golf ball-sized pill. It had been her choice to let the old Victoria go for Chloe's sake. And she'd been only too eager to erase the Victoria who fell out of love with her. Max had chosen Victoria's interests second to her own in the most total way there was. And, given the choice, she would do it all again.

She wanted to love Victoria, but it was going to take time. And maybe she wasn't owed that.

Maxine nodded somberly. "Yeah I . . . get that, dude. I'm sorry."

There was a brief pause, and then Maxine asked, "Out of curiosity, who did Vic fall for? I wouldn't have expected that."

"Kate Marsh."

Maxine just blinked, dumbfounded. Their lips curled down in disgust. "Well that's . . . repulsive. Yikes."

Max frowned. "Your Victoria was just a bitch, I take it?"

"You could say that," Maxine sneered. Once Max gave them an expectant glance, then continued, "In my first timeline, Vic and her friends basically baited Kate into suicide. And then she died, and Victoria . . ." Maxine's eyes started to stare past her, somewhere in the past. "Well, she told me to get over it. And I broke my hand on her face." Maxine shrugged, then added casually, "I mean, I would have undid it, except it was my rewind hand so . . . she got stuck with a bruise and I got stuck with two broken fingers."

Max nodded slowly once the story was concluded. "Yeah I . . . I heard about that. Kate's suicide, I mean. I'm sorry." Beat. "Were the two of you friends?"

The way Maxine chuckled only left Max feeling more ill at ease. "Yeah," they said, "we were close."

Max could sense there was more to the story, but though it must have been years ago for them, it didn't seem right to press Maxine for details. And, honestly, Max could do without further confirmation that Victoria might, at heart, just be a horrible person - or so literally everyone from different timelines told her.

Max reached over the table and placed her hand over Maxine's. "I'm sorry," she said. "It seems like you've been through a lot."

Maxine only nodded, the same distant look in their eye.

Max said, "My Kate was invulnerable, actually. That was her power. She took down Jefferson and saved me and Victoria all by herself."

That actually brought shock, then a smile to Maxine's face. "No shit?" The smile turned into a grin. "She's a tough fucking kid. I've seen plenty of timelines where things are better, but my first . . . well, it sticks with me." Maxine turned their hand around slowly, taking Max's hand and stroking the back side of it with her thumb. It was extremely affectionate - but, for some reason, that didn't bother Max much. She found herself easy to trust.

Maxine added, "It seems like it's the same for you, too, huh? The first is always more . . ." they pinched their face as they thought.

"Real?" Max offered.

Maxine nodded. "Yeah."

They were both about done with their coffee and the hand-holding was going on long enough that it was getting a little weird, especially over the table, but Max didn't feel much like pulling away. It wasn't exactly often that she got to experience intimacy with someone who could understand her. Maybe it was better to just wait in the moment, pretend that time was standing still (even if she wasn't making it right now).

And then the moment was over, Max's fingers dragging along the table after slipping from Maxine's touch.

Maxine brushed some of their hair behind her ear before folding their hands in their lap. Their expression was bashful, not making eye contact - much more like the Max behind the mirror had been.

"I'm going to the bathroom real quick," they said, and got up.

Max had finished her coffee by the time Maxine got back out, and the two of them decided it was best to get far away from Jefferson’s body. Fortunately, buses are frequent in Seattle, and there was a bus stop next to the hotel they’d come from. They’d prefer not to go back there at all, but sometimes you have to go back to get where you want to go.

At the bus stop, Max had an idea. “Oh hey,” she said, “do you have your phone on you? I could show you what Kate and Chloe are up to.”

Maxine tilted their head curiously, but reached into their pocket without further questions. Once they handed Max their phone, she made her way to Youtube and tried to recall what the video had been called.

After a minute, she found it, and tilted the screen so they could both take a look. Maxine leaned over, using their body to shade the screen. 

The video was very dark and low-quality, and at first it was difficult to make anything out, but once the picture sharpened, they could see a park at night, two girls in the distance, and a large silhouette only visible because of how it disrupted the trees in the background.

“I don’t know what the fuck is going on,” the person holding the camera said. “There’s these girls, and this big . . . I don’t know what the - OH SHIT.” The narrator cried out as the monstrous silhouette swiped. It didn’t look like it had a body that could possibly make contact with flesh, but one of the girls was lifted from her feet and landed much closer to the camera. She did not move as the narrator said, “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” over and over.

“KATE!” the other girl yelled.

Unfortunately, the camera suddenly fell back as the narrator retreated and tripped, the ‘oh fuck’s continuing all the while.

“Is that . . . Chloe?” Maxine asked, turning towards Max.

Max just held a finger to her mouth to ‘sh’, and indicated back at the video.

The video just shook as the narrator tried to get back to their feet, but suddenly froze as a horrible shrieking overwhelmed the audio. After a second, they gave up and sat still on the grass, holding the shaky phone camera up to catch what was happening.

A circle of flame had emerged around the shadow, and now its form was much clearer. It looked like the upper body of a wolf-like creature, with long hands and a muzzle. Its mouth was open as screamed, and inside its mouth was a bright fire. It was wrong, unnatural, impossible, belonging to the world of bad Hollywood films and an increasing number of derivative HBO shows. And it was sinking into the Earth like cartoon quicksand, the flames revealing the tall girl standing just out of reach of the monster’s flailing claws.

“Does Chloe have a sword?” Maxine asked.

Max grinned but said nothing. The best part was coming up.

The narrator was sputtering nonsense mostly in the form of ‘fuck’ attached to a few other choice phrases, but was staying still enough to get both girls in the frame. Just as the monster’s hands were disappearing inside the ring of fire, the girl on the ground shuttered, prompting another startled yelp from behind the camera. A second later, the girl slowly picked herself up and dusted herself off, just in time to watch the creature disappear entirely from view, and the ring of fire to vanish after it.

Once the girl was on her feet, she turned, looking back at the camera, and then the person behind it.

“Justin?” she asked, then groaned. It was definitely Kate Marsh - most other people wouldn’t wear clean-pressed clothes to a fight in the park, after all - and there were spots in her clothes that made it look like she was bleeding. She didn’t seem to notice, or at the very least, care.

“Justin, get out of here.”

There was a second of scrambling, and then the video cut.

“Kate is so good,” Max said, a hand covering her mouth to hide her continuing smile. She looked up at Maxine, who was just smirking at her. “And maybe immortal, I guess?”

Maxine laughed but was also clearly uncomfortable. “I guess. And there are, like . . . demons in this timeline?”

“Ha. Yeah.” Max handed Maxine their phone back, as proud as they were disturbed. “I’ve actually kind of been trying not to think about that part. But Kate looks like she’s doing okay.”

Maxine’s expression softened. “You’re right. Even if she won’t stop getting herself into trouble.”

Maxine paused for a second, glancing around on the sidewalk. Then she started, “Max, I-”

“Oh, our bus is here.”

Max pointed behind Maxine, but Maxine didn’t bother to look. They only sighed, and then tried again; “Max, it’s actually just your bus. I’ve got to go.”

“What?” Max surprised herself with how crestfallen she sounded, and did her best to edit her voice calmer in follow-up. “Why is that?”

Maxine talked quickly as the bus rapidly approached. “Well, I mean, I’ve got something I’ve got to do, and Jefferson was really just kind of a point on the to-do list, and - and, shit.”

Maxine suddenly held her hands up in a way that made Max flinch. It took her a second to realize that the world had fallen quiet, and the bus had stopped moving towards them.

“Whoah,” Max whispered. The longer she looked, the more the world looked wrong, with unmoving birds in the sky and flags still in the process of flapping in the breeze. She had never tried to freeze time in such a public place, and even the sound of her breath now was audible on some busy street in Seattle. It was beautiful and terrifying, a world gone dead but perfectly preserved. It was a painting of the present that should have been her past.

Maxine was not so caught up in it, though. “Max?” they asked, pulling her into the present that really was her present.

“Hm?”

Maxine reached out and took Max’s hand, and Max finally stopped looking at the world around her.

“Look, Max. I’ve got to go. But I wanted to say thank you first. It’s been . . . it’s been hard, being alone for so long. It was nice to meet someone who could understand what it’s like being me. And I don’t want to say ‘bye’ just yet.”

“I don’t really see why you have to,” Max replied in frustration. She didn’t feel like losing another person so quickly. “But . . . yeah. I feel the same way.” Max squeezed Maxine’s hand, looking up into their eyes as if there she would find the reason they had to leave. “It was nice.”

Maxine clearly hesitated on something for a moment, but Max waited for them to figure it out. When they finally got the words out, though - “Can I kiss you?” it took Max a few seconds to process their meaning.

“Oh-oh. Um.” She hadn’t really thought of their flirting as having any underlying possibility to it. The connection she felt to her other selves was just natural, automatic. But this didn’t really feel like either.

Still, here they were out of time, and Maxine was beautiful, and whatever this connection was, it was transient. Soon, Maxine wouldn’t even exist - not here, at least.

Max nodded. “Mhm.”

Maxine continued to hesitate for a moment, but then took a step forward. They placed their hand tentatively on Max’s cheek, and Max reached out to grab their hips and pull them closer, to let them know it was okay.

And then they kissed. When it continued past the first kiss, Max ran her fingers up Maxine’s side, tracing lines over their shoulder blade, holding them close. When the kiss finally broke, her fingers trailed down Maxine’s arm, briefly catching their wrist, then their fingers. When her fingers caught on some metal on Maxine’s wrist, it brought her attention from their face down to their hand.

It took her a second to recognize it, but she did. “Hey, isn’t that Victoria’s bracelet?” she asked.

When she saw Maxine’s hand reaching up for her neck, she thought they were bringing her in for another kiss. At least, until the metal sting appeared in her neck, and she realized too late what had happened.

Max flinched back and held a hand up to her neck, but she knew it didn’t take long to push the plunger in a syringe like that. The syringe caught her eye quickly now that she knew what she was looking for, and it was familiar down to the size and brand, just sitting in Maxine’s other hand. When had it gotten there?

Max reached up to rewind, but it was like she was hit by a wave - reality flashed for a second and pain split her forehead, but time did not move.

“You can’t be . . . serious.” GHB worked so quickly in its injected form . She was already having trouble talking.

“I’m sorry Max. I really am.” Maxine took a step forward, offering out her hand in a way Max simply could not understand.

“Get - get away from me.”

“I just don’t want you to hit your head.”

Max was stumbling, and her vision was useless even if it was working. She reached out to pull time back again, but again the same blinding flash erupted in her eyes. When it faded, she found herself on her knees, breathing heavily but not enough.

Maxine dropped down into a crouch in front of Max, not trying to touch her, knowing they had to do nothing at this point.

“I really was nice to meet you, Max. I’m sorry about this.”

Max tried to work up the coherence to say ‘fuck you’ or something with the same level of venom, but before she could form the words, she lost consciousness.

#life is strange #fan fiction #life in snippets #post-life in snippets #max caulfield #maxine caulfield #max caulfield x max caulfield #selfcest #involuntary drug use #murdering jefferson #long post #ben writes stuff