#also catch me weeping over how good this promise is for their wedding song it fits them so well !!!

[indigodreames]

i vow to fiercely love you in all your forms, now and forever. i promise to never forget that this is a once in a lifetime love.

[winterscaptain]

transfer request. part four.

Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

a/n: part four is finally here! i am working on part five, and have a special treat with that one. i am so excited to continue this story with you all :) i’ve also decided that jack is short for jonathan because i simply cant imagine they just named him jack flat out and im not sure his name is john either so i made an executive decision lmao  rating/words: teen / 1600 no warnings apply!

another disclaimer because people Have Questions - i have made jack short for jonathan because of a friend friend i had growing up who was a jonathan who went by jack :)

AO3 | Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Requests Open!

+++

The wedding approached faster than anyone thought possible.

The deep, cleansing breath Y/N takes as she stands at the top of Dave’s gorgeous staircase certainly doesn’t feel all that deep or all that cleansing. She holds tight to Derek’s arm like a lifeline, gripping the fabric of his black button-up.

Jack is a few steps in front of her, carrying the rings. He looks up at her, and she winks at him, trying to hide her nerves

“You okay, sweetness?” Derek pats her hand where it rests in the crook of his elbow.

She nods briskly, smoothing a hand down the front of her dress. It’s a stunning garment – heavy silk hangs off her shoulders in layers down to the floor. It frames her figure perfectly – she is only five or so months along, but there is definitely a pronounced swell that hadn’t been there a few weeks prior.

“Just a little nervous Aaron won’t be there when I get down there.”

Derek snorts. “He’ll be there. He can’t outrun me and wouldn’t try.”

She smiles and kisses Derek’s cheek.

+++

In the backyard, Aaron leaned against one of the pillars framing the porch, his hands in his pockets.

“You’re better off than me, Hotch.” Will takes a sip of his beer, standing at Aaron’s side. “When JJ and I got married down here, I wasn’t sure she was gonna come back down the stairs.”

Hotch chuckles. “She’ll come down eventually, just like JJ. Of that I am certain.” He looks over at JJ, sitting beside Spencer with Henry in her lap. She looks up and grins at Hotch, giving him a thumbs up. He smiles back at her.

Dave walks over to Emily and hands her a glass of wine. “How lucky we are to be among family.”

Aaron rolls his eyes. “Dave, now is not the time for a sermon.”

“No, it’s not,” Dave replies, pointing at Aaron with his cigar. “I’m saving it for dinner so I don’t steal Penelope’s thunder.”

Garcia, under the arch with her script in-hand, winks at him.

+++

Jack steps up the stairs and takes Y/N’s other hand. “Are you ready?” He asks.

She nods, leaning down to kiss the top his head. “Yeah, love. I’m ready.” She looks at Derek, who looks back at her with a gentleness in his eyes. “Please don’t let me fall.”

He kisses her forehead. “Never, never, never.”

There are lots of kisses going around, but it’s just one of those days.

Derek pulls her close. Jack’s hand rests in hers as they slowly descend the stairs.

When Aaron comes into view, under the canopy of lights and surrounded by their family, tears spring into Y/N’s eyes. She swallows, and Derek holds her tighter. Jack still holds onto her hand, the rings locked in his other fist.

Aaron’s face breaks out into a smile, and they’re both grinning at each other like idiots by the time the four of them are standing together.

Derek kisses her cheek and places her hand in Aaron’s. Derek steps back behind Dave, taking Jack with him and keeping a hand on the boy's shoulder.

Penelope begins then, welcoming their family to “this ridiculously exciting and long-overdue event.”

Y/N and Aaron can only smile at each other until it’s time for them to read their lines.

 “...in sickness and in health.”

“...for richer or for poorer.”

“...in the field and at home.”

“I do.”

“I do.”

Penelope nods at Y/N, and she beckons Jack forward. Jack hands the rings up to Derek, who drops them safely in his pocket.

When Jack reaches the space between her and Aaron, she drops to one knee, holding her hands out. He places his hands in hers, and she grips them tight.

His brown eyes look into hers, and it's like they’re looking through each other rather than at each other. She knows she’ll never take those eyes for granted – whether in the face of her stepson, her husband, or any other children they have.

“Jonathan Hotchner, I may not have given you the gift of life, but life sure did give me the gift of you.” When he smiles, some tears escape Y/N’s eyes, falling onto the ground at her feet. She only halfway processes Aaron’s hand coming to rest on Jack’s shoulder as she continues. “I promise to be by your side through all your triumphs and sorrows. I can’t promise I’ll always do the right thing or say the right thing, but I can promise to love you with all my heart, every day, forever.”

Her vows to Jack were short, but they’d taken her forever to write. She’d spent hours sitting at Aaron’s desk in the new den, pen in her hand, lit only by the warm yellow desk lamp.

“What are you working on in here?” Aaron came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on her shoulder.

“It’s a secret.” Nevertheless, she made no attempt to cover her project, and she waited as he skimmed through her scribbles and revisions. Three sentences. I need to give my stepson better than three sentences. What else was there to say to the most important child in her life?

“Are you writing vows for Jack?”

Y/N nodded and twisted in her chair. “I won’t do it if you think it's dumb or –“

She was interrupted by a firm, almost desperate, kiss. “It’s a great idea. He’ll love it.”

Jack jumps into her arms and Aaron snags her arm as she’s thrown off balance. White dress be damned, she sits on the cold stone of the patio with Jack more than halfway in her lap.

“I’m glad you’re my momma.” He says it so quietly she almost missed it.

“What should Jack call me after we’re married? I’m not sure I want him to call me by my first name anymore, but I also don’t think I should be Mom, for Haley’s sake.”

Aaron sighed, tightening his arms around her. It’s nearly midnight, and the darkness is like a blanket cast over the bedroom. Aaron’s such a finicky sleeper – requiring total darkness – that with the curtains drawn, she could barely see him.  “You are and will be the closest thing he has to a mother. Don’t worry about replacing Haley. Do you have any preliminary ideas?”

“I’m thinking momma, or even something in another language. In Hebrew, mother is Ima, or the Polish Matka, that kind of thing.”

He was quiet for a moment, thinking. “I really like momma for you.”

She shifts to kiss his bare shoulder. It’s a silent thanks.

Aaron’s crying now, as is Dave, JJ, and Penelope. Derek is barely keeping it together, and Emily passes tissues with one hand while the other is wrapped in Spencer’s. They’re all together, safe and sound.

Y/N is openly weeping, one hand stroking Jack’s hair and the other rubbing back and forth between his shoulder blades.

“I love you so much, baby. So so much.”

She looks up over Jack’s shoulder to Aaron, who offers her a hand. She takes it and rises, keeping a hand on Jack. Both she and Aaron take a big breath and wipe their eyes.

Derek passes the rings to Aaron, who passes them to Jack.

Jack slips one of the rings on his father’s finger – a simple silver band with four small diamonds. Aaron presses a kiss to his son’s head and turns him gently by the shoulders to face Y/N once more.

When she holds her hand out, Jack slips the silver ring and twists it so it locks in with her engagement ring. Together, the rings create an intertwined diamond setting. The insides of the bands have all of their initials in raised letters on it, designed to leave an indent in the skin whenever the ring is removed. They designed the rings as a family, making it all the more special.

“By the power vested in me by the great state of Virginia, and the internet, I now pronounce you married!” Penelope bounces on her toes and grins.

Aaron raises an eyebrow at her, and she laughs.

“Oh my god just kiss her already.”

Aaron takes Y/N’s face between his hands and presses a sweet, chaste kiss to her lips. Their family whoops and hollers around them. His hands fall to her abdomen and rest protectively around her. When they part, they press their foreheads together, eyes closed. She brings Jack close to her and they stand there as a unit for a moment, basking in the joy of the moment.

+++

Their first dance as a couple is slow and quiet. They hardly move, just shifting back and forth together, only loosely connected to the music. Pair by pair, their family joins them on the dance floor as the songs change.

Derek and Penelope are first, all at once playful and intimate. JJ and Spencer are next, but only after they hang Henry and Jack’s blazers over a chair and situate them with a soccer ball on the grass. Will abstains from the dancing for now, playing goalkeeper to Jack’s forward.

Emily and Dave join in once their wine glasses are empty. Everyone is flush with alcohol or joy or both.

Y/N has one arm looped around Aaron’s shoulder and the other wrapped in his hand over his heart. He quietly sings along to the music, his cheek pressed to her temple. She looks up and him and kisses him softly. His lips trail to the sensitive spot behind her ear and his warm breath makes her voice catch in her throat.

“I love you.”

She feels his smile against her skin. “I know.”

+++

tagging: @arganfics​ @quillvine​ @stxrryspencer​ @agenthotchner​ @hurricanejjareau​ @fics-ilike​ @octothorpetopus​ @ange-must-die​ @ughitsbaby​ @rousethemouse​ @criminalsmarts​ @dr-reid-ismyspiritanimal​ @icantswimhalp​ @genevievedarcygranger​ @ssaic-jareau​ @good-heavens-chris-evans 

[ficsandcatsandficsandcats]

Prompt Request

So, here’s the thing, dear reader. This thing kind of took on a life of its own. 

Fandom: The Witcher Pairing: Jaskier x Reader Word Count: 4,558 Rating: M Prompt:  “Hello! I’m glad to find another writer who writes for Jaskier. Can you please write a fic with Jaskier x female reader (perhaps one that is sweet and kind, but insecure about herself) that is both got fluff and angst with the prompts “Don’t be scared, I’m right here.�� + “You’ve shown me what love can feel like.” + “I love you. You are what matters to me.” + “Can I kiss you?” + “Are you scared?” + "I can’t believe you’re carrying my child.” + “Shh, don’t worry, I’ll take very good care of you.” a/n: Reader and Jaskier are in an arranged marriage and end up falling in love. There are little breaks between parts to denote time passing. How much time? Who knows. But time! I hope that this is ok and that you like it and that you aren’t 96 by the time you finish reading it. For better or worse, here it is. 

It was the happiest day of your life. That’s what they told you, anyway. That’s what you’d always hoped it would be. Everything about the moment was like something from a dream. You, standing in a simple white gown with a crown of buttercups on your head. The man standing in front of you was handsome, with sparkling blue eyes and rich, chestnut hair. He smiled at you and squeezed your hands, clasped before you, with tenderness. This was everything you wanted your wedding to be, if only you knew the groom.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to celebrate the union of Y/F/N and Julian Alfred Pankratz. May their union provide happiness and bounty for both of their houses,” the priest declared, intoning the words with solemnity suiting the business merger this wedding essentially was. The man named Julian smiled at you but you could see a tinge of nervousness in his eyes as well. It helped you feel less alone.

“The groom has requested to provide vows of his own writing. He may speak them now,” the priest said. You’re surprised to hear this, wondering what this stranger could have to say to you. He squeezed your hands tighter and though a crowd was gathered around you (including many weeping ladies sitting on the groom’s side of the chapel), he only had eyes for you.

“It is no secret that this wedding is… complicated. I have only known you for a short time. Indeed, I only laid eyes on you as you walked down the aisle. I cannot speak to your interests, your tastes, or even your favorite color. I do not pretend to possess the knowledge to make you happy but I can promise you this; I will treat you with respect and kindness and I will do my utmost to make the best of this for the both of us, if you will allow me to.”

If you had to be forced into a political marriage, you’re happy at least that you have ended up with someone kind.

“Y/N, repeat after me…” the priest begins but you stop him.

“Actually, I would also like to recite my own vows,” you say, surprising yourself. You look back at your almost-husband and take a deep breath.

“I have heard you are quite the wordsmith so I won’t spend too much time trying to impress you here but I wanted to say that I offer in turn respect and kindness and also a really good loaf of bread.”

He laughs and you feel a smile break across your face as well and you both stay focused on each other as the rest of the formalities are read. When the moment comes that the priest announces you man and wife, your new husband leans forward and you can feel your heart in your throat.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, a whisper’s breadth from your lips.

“I mean, that’s what we do now isn’t it?” you ask, feeling awkward under the watchful eye of the crowd around you.

“Not necessarily. Not unless you say so,” he says firmly. You know that he means it and that you don’t need a kiss to complete the arrangement, at this point you have both held up your sides of the bargain and your families are wealthier with new trades.

“Yes,” you say decisively. He smiles and pulls you in closer and his mouth is soft and tender on yours. It’s a sweet kiss, but not chaste, his teeth gently nipping at your bottom lip as you pull apart, giving you a wink as he does.

 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“My name is Jaskier, by the way. Well, it is Julian Alfred Pankratz but everyone calls me Jaskier. Everyone but my family but fuck ‘em.”

The words slip out with a slight slur, the result of the wine you’ve both been drinking. You’d gone to the after-wedding feast for appearance’s sake but he’d snuck you both out with a plate of cheese and meats and a bottle of wine to escape the pomp and circumstance. You were grateful for the opportunity to get to know your husband. Crowds always made you nervous anyway. Jaskier had pulled off the stifling doublet and undone the buttons on his undershirt in a way that you thought should shock you until you remembered that you were married now. At some point you had placed the flower crown on Jaskier’s head and he left it on, looking like some sort of fae being that was put on this earth to save or damn you and you weren’t sure if you cared which it was.

“I’m not feeling very charitable towards my family either,” you say in response to his outburst, the closest you’ve come to openly expressing how you felt about being forced into a marriage to a stranger.

“Oh come on you can do better than that,” Jaskier goads.

“No I mean, I understand where they’re coming from. I’m their only daughter and one does have to consider the future…”

“Come on darling let’s not start this false marriage with more lies. I recognize that I’m a hell of a catch to get but surely somewhere deep inside of you there is some anger over this. You could have married anyone you pleased but you get saddled with a stranger. I could have been 85 years old or had a humpback or, or, or been Valdo Marx for god’s sakes!” Jaskier exclaims. His fervent anger makes you laugh but also makes you bold.

“It was….”

“Yes?” Jaskier says encouragingly, gesturing with the empty goblet in his hand.

“Well I must admit…”

“Go on,” he urges.

“It was damned disgusting,” you finally blurt out, half-shocked at your own temerity.

“Yes! More! Keep going!” Jaskier insists, rising unsteadily to his feet to cheer you on with more gusto.

“For all of my life leading up this I have done everything they’ve asked. I’ve been an excellent pupil, I’ve attended every stupid event even though I couldn’t have cared less, I have sacrificed and tried to be a good daughter and carried this stupid legacy and I don’t know what I expected but… but they could have at least talked to me! They could have asked me how I felt, they could have pretended to give a shit. They could have tried to care, I deserved that at least, didn’t I?” your anger turns to bitter sadness and Jaskier stops pumping his fists when he sees your shoulders start to shake with stifled sobs.

“Oh no, oh bollocks, no please don’t, hey,” he crouches next to you and pulls you into a hug you’re too upset to resist. His arms are strong and he offers quiet, comforting words in your ear as you cry into his chest, your face pressing up against the soft linen of his shirt and the patch of dark hair beneath.

“Shhh, don’t worry. I’ll take good care of you. I know we didn’t choose this but you’re not in this alone, I promise,” he murmurs the words into the top of your head as one hand rubs soothing circles into your back. He holds you long after the tears dry and you fall asleep curled around each other.

 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Your life falls into a sort of rhythm. He introduces you to Geralt who immediately rejects adding you to their adventures until Jaskier makes him try your bread. You hadn’t been lying about the promise, having honed your craft through years of baking to cope with the feelings you were forced to repress. He begrudgingly acquiesced to you joining them on very specific journeys for very specific lengths of time but despite himself you grow on him. You and Jaskier also grow to know each other better. Before long he knows that your favorite color is (Y/F/C) and you learn more of his life as a bard. At first you were nervous about going to the inns with him as he performed, especially when he would flirt and sing directly to you, but he always seemed to sense when you were too uncomfortable and would turn his attention back on the rest of the crowd. In time that began to bother you as well but you didn’t examine those feelings, trying hard to enjoy the relative peace you had.

At first you didn’t mind when Jaskier would go on his long journeys and you even grew to enjoy your solitude in the little house your parents had given the two of you as a wedding present. It was easily the most modest of your properties, but you didn’t care, you reveled in the ability to make a space your own. As time went on, the longer Jaskier was away you grew to wish there were more signs of him around. He didn’t possess much, bringing with him only clothes and the lute he took with him on his journeys. When he came back he would tell you all about his journeys and perform his new songs for you and you would provide him with a sampling of what you’ve done with your baking and pottery and the other things you did to fill your time. He was usually back after a few weeks but one night Geralt came with word that he would be leaving for much longer, at least a month, and while the words weren’t directly spoken you could tell that there was no guarantee they would both be coming back.

“Are you scared?” you asked Jaskier after Geralt had left ostensibly to tend to Roach but truly to give them space to talk.

“A little,” he confessed, “But I must go, you understand.”

You bite your lip and he saw you warring with some emotion he couldn’t place.

“Y/N?” he asked, “Come on, talk to me.”

“It’s just… what if you don’t come back?” you ask.

“Don’t let Geralt scare you, he always makes things sound worse than they truly are. I will be back. I made you a promise and I intend to keep it,” he says.

“But what if you can’t?” you insist.

“Well… then everything I own is passed to you and you could be your own woman again. I mean, we don’t really prevent each other from living our lives but you could find someone to fall in love with and have children and whatever else people do,” he doesn’t look at you as he says this and you’re quick to wipe away the tears that come up as he speaks. He glances back up at you and brushes the last trace of wetness from your cheeks.

“Don’t be scared,” he insists, “I’m right here.”

He pulls you in for a hug and holds you, much as he did your wedding night, and you squeeze back as hard as you can as though you can keep him chained to you through the embrace. You look up to say something else and your lips brush by accident, the first they’ve touched since the kiss on the altar. He wordlessly pulls you in again and deepens the kiss, running a hand through your hair as he tentatively brushes tongue against your lips. You part them in response and shift in his arms til you’re straddling him, arms wrapping back around his neck. His hands trace the contours of your body through the clothes and settle on your hips. You arch against him and feel him beneath you, hard and wanting. The pressure of your body pressing against him pulls a moan from his lips and the sound seems to break through the moment, pulling him back to earth. He reluctantly pulls back from the kiss and for a moment you sit there, panting and uncertain.

“You have a long journey tomorrow,” you whisper when the silence grows too long, “I should let you rest.” “Y/N…” he begins but you slide off of him and hurry to the kitchen, eager to find a way to rid yourself of the energy and emotions that have gotten away with you. Jaskier thinks about following, wants nothing more than to finish what you’d both started, but he leaves tomorrow, and you were right. He may not come back. And he could never forgive himself if he got you with child and then died to leave you to care for it alone.

 -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

75 loaves of bread, 19 dozen cookies, and 14 pies later, Jaskier comes back home.

You’re sitting by the hearth reading when you think you hear it, that familiar strumming of a lute in the distance. Then you hear an unmistakable voice and you jolt to your feet, running to the door. You can see him walking, still a block away and you keep running. When he sees you he stops singing and places the lute on his back. By the time he’s got his strapped on you’ve tackled him in a hug that nearly knocks him off of his feet and he lifts you slightly off the ground, spinning you in a little circle as he does.

“You’re home,” you say.

“I’m home,” he echoes, one hand brushing the side of your face and cupping your chin, “And I have so much to tell you.”

You hold hands as you walk back to the house and he begins to tell you about the journeys he and Geralt have been on. You’re only half paying attention as he speaks, no story of dragons or mythical artifacts capable of competing with the sight of him finally in front of you again, the sound of his voice and the feeling of his hand in yours. Over bread he tells you about his dilemma over writing a series of songs or one very epic song to capture the tale. By the time night has fallen you’re both seated in front of the fire, your head on his shoulder. You notice his fingers twitching and you can tell there’s something left unsaid.

“Jaskier?”

“Hmm?”

“What is it?”

“What is what?” he asks, the innocence in his voice forced. You sit up and level a look at him.

“Don’t do that. Don’t pretend nothing’s wrong. We’ve never lied to each other, don’t start now,” you say. He sighs and you feel your heart pounding in your chest as you think about what he may be about to say. He’s in love with someone? He’s cursed and dying? He isn’t really here and this is just a dream and soon you will wake up alone in your bed, the right side cold and empty?

“It’s foolish really, it’s nothing to be worried about,” he says.

“Then tell me what it is,” you urge, trying to soften the demand with a smile.

“Being out there with Geralt for so long… well, it made me realize some things,” he says. Your heart stops and you fight the urge to tell him to stop, to let you live in the fantasy you hadn’t realized you’d fallen into where somehow he did fall in love with you and this marriage that started as a contract can become more.

“I thought a lot about my time here in this house. With you. I thought about the little flecks of paint on your fingers and the smudges of flour in your cheeks. I thought about that little snorting sound you make in your sleep…”

Your face burns bright red as he lists your faults. Countesses never snorted; you were almost certain.

“I thought about the way it feels when you listen to my stories, truly listen to them. Not because you’re paying me for them or because I’m forcing them on you. The way you just… listen to me. I have written so many songs about it but I think, maybe, I’ve never felt it like this before,” he takes a deep breath and turns to face you, the soft, blue eyes staring into yours intently as he speaks again, “You’ve shown me what love can feel like.”

It takes a moment for the words to sink in and when they have you’re still not sure how to feel. Making someone feel loved doesn’t mean they love you back. You had learned that the hard way from your parents to your sparse attempts at romance in the past. He looks at you anxiously, waiting to see what you will say but the words fail you like a curse striking you mute.

“Ah,” he says after a while, turning back to face the fire.

“No, Jaskier,” you begin but he stands and takes a deep breath, shaking his head and forcing on a smile. It’s a performance you’ve seen many times before and the first time he’s ever turned it on you.

“Please, Y/N, it’s probably for the best,” he says.

“No but you don’t understand,” you continue.

“Heartbreak is good for the songs, really. And we never made any promises to each other. Not any real ones at least. Not ones that matter.”

The words break your heart and anger you at the same time. You’ve spent a lifetime letting people tell you how you feel or what is best but not Jaskier. Never him.

“Julian Alfred Pankratz shut up and listen,” you snap, standing to meet him eye to eye. He’s visibly taken aback, eyes going wide in shock, but he stays quiet.

“Before you go too deeply into a pity party, I would like the opportunity to actually speak for myself. How dare you say those promises didn’t matter? When from the very start we have spoken honestly and fairly to each other? Sure, the marriage wasn’t sincere, but the vows were. Respect and kindness and, and, and bread! And more than that, more than anything we could have promised each other that day, love. I love you. You are what matters to me. I’m sorry if that ruins your career plans but you’ll just have to adapt!”

The pair of you stand in stunned silence as your words resonate and then you are pulled into his arms as his lips hungrily seek yours. You begin tearing at each other’s clothes, a trail of fabric leading to the bedroom. Once inside his gestures slow a little and when you impatiently rip at the buttons on your dress he halts your hands with his and his nimble fingers slip through them with ease, his eyes hungrily staring into yours as he works. He’s shirtless now and you let your gaze fall to take in the lean, corded muscles in his shoulders and arms, the toned definition of his body. You run your hands along the veins in his neck, down to the definition of his shoulder blades, across the collar bones, down into the hair on his chest which is soft and coarse all at once to the touch. The dress falls away and you feel the cold air of the room hit your exposed skin, shocking you to the fact of your nakedness and making you lose whatever courage you had summoned in your anger and passion. He sees your eyes fall away and the blush rise in your cheeks and he gently lifts your chin back up to meet his eyes.

“What is it, love?” he asks, the word moments before unspoken now falling casually and naturally from his lips.

“I’ve never… I don’t share your… experience,” you admit.

“Well I hardly find that shocking. I am very, very experienced,” he says with a roguish wink. You laugh nervously and he runs a hand along your arm, barely grazing your breasts which are taut and eager for his touch.

“How about this time I take the lead. If I do something that you don’t like, you tell me and it stops immediately,” he says.

“What if you’re enjoying it?” you ask.

“I will never enjoy something if you’re not enjoying it too. Please tell me. And next time, if, and gods I pray and hope there will be a next time if I don’t utterly cock this up, you can take charge. Does that sound good?” he asks. You nod but he shakes his head, leaning down to give you a long, lingering kiss.

“I need to hear you say the words,” he murmurs against your chin.

“That sounds good,” you answer. He smiles at you and pulls you in for another kiss, his hands bolder in his exploration, brushing against your breasts before lowering his mouth to kiss and caress them with his tongue. You’re quiet at first, not intentionally but because the sensations are new and you struggle to breath through them. You see him looking up at you, watching your face as you react, taking his cues from your body. A hand reaches lower and you part your legs for him. He finds you wet and makes a satisfied, throaty sound as he brushes a finger lightly against the folds. You gasp and he looks back up for confirmation.

“Yes, do that again,” you say. He presses in further, two fingers roaming the length of you and circling the top. You grip his hair and he continues the same rhythm.

“Do you like this?” he asks, not because he isn’t sure but because he loves to hear you try to speak when he has you like this, wet and needy and at his mercy.

“Y-yes,” you reply. “Fuck.”

“Such dirty language, Y/N, am I a bad influence?” he teases as he slides one finger gently inside of you. You can’t respond, struggling between your need to breathe and the effect his hands have on you.

“You feel ready for me, Y/N. Do you want more?” he asks.

“I want everything,” you say breathlessly. He stands, pulling his hands away despite your whine of protest and he gently leans you back over the bed. He pulls off the last of his clothing until he is just as naked and you can see the proof of his arousal.

“Is it… odd to think a penis is beautiful?” you wonder aloud. He laughs and shakes his head.

“Oh god I love you,” he says, eyes shining brightly as he stares at you in wonder.

“Prove it,” you say, a playful challenge. His eyes darken and he climbs on top of you and you can feel the delicious weight of him, the lean, strong body and the weight of his desire pressed up against your thigh.

“You may have heard that this hurts but I’m going to tell you a secret; it shouldn’t. If it starts to hurt, tell me. I want every part of this to be as exquisite for you as it possibly can be,” he whispers, warm breath tickling your ear. You nod in agreement and then, when he doesn’t move, you agree out loud. He shifts his weight around and you can feel the tip of him brushing against your entrance gently. He slides it through in increments, halting when he feels resistance until he feels you relax beneath him once more. His kisses are softer than before but deeper as well. Before long he is fully sheathed inside of you. He rests his forehead against yours, holding perfectly still to let you adjust to the feeling until you tentatively shift your hips beneath him eliciting a soft moan. He follows your lead, gently rocking himself in and out of you, his movements slow and thorough and forcing soft gasps of pleasure from your lips. You urge him to go faster and he matches your motions, angling with his cock the way he did with his fingers, following the sounds you make and the look on your face until he finds exactly where you need him. You come apart underneath him and the feeling of your release spurs his own, buried deep inside of you where he stays until you both have caught your breath.

“All in all,” he says once he’s curled up by your side, “Marriage isn’t that bad.”

The sound of your laughter lulls him to sleep.

 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jaskier stays around for a while after this but before too much time has passed Geralt returns with word of a nearby job. He is wary about bringing you, insistently so in a way that almost hurts your feelings, but he finally relents. He asks you to ride Roach, an action that drives Jaskier nearly apoplectic and the trip to the neighboring town is spent with protests about injustice and the bonds of friendship that are meant to rise beyond that of romance. The job is quick and Jaskier is able to perform one in the series of songs about his prior adventures at the inn while you and Geralt eat.

“Does he know?” Geralt asks, yellow eyes seeking yours.

“Does he know what?” you ask.

“Hmm,” is all he says in answer before looking back down at his meal.

“What?” you insist.

“It might not be my place to say,” he says.

“Well you’ve already said this much you might as well keep going,” you say. You’ve grown much more assertive since marrying Jaskier and Geralt can’t help me pleased by it, even if it is inconvenient for him at this moment.

“You’re with child,” he says bluntly, popping a piece of bread in his mouth as he does. You stare at him blankly.

“What?” you ask.

“What?” Jaskier asks, suddenly reappearing behind his friend and reaching for your ale to take a drink between songs.

“I…” you look to Geralt for help but he gives you a look that tells you you’re on your own. Coward.

“I’ll tell you after your set,” you say.

“Is something wrong?” Jaskier asks, worry creasing his brow. “Y/N, tell me.”

“Ok. Well. And this might be wrong because frankly I don’t know how he would know, though it would make sense…” you trail off as you try to remember if your courses were due yet. Jaskier watches you anxiously and you know you have to put him out of his misery.

“He says that I’m… pregnant,” you say. You watch Jaskier’s face carefully and you can see the moment what you’ve said resonates. His eyes light up and he gives a little incredulous laugh.

“You are? With me?”

You scoff.

“No, Jaskier, with a bloody goat. Yes with you,” you say. He leans over the table to kiss you, knocking over the ale and squashing Geralt’s meal with his knee but the witcher doesn’t say anything and simply stands and walks away to leave you your moment. Jaskier cradles your face in his hands and happy tears run down his face.

"I can’t believe you’re carrying my child,” he says, his voice awed and filled with love.

“Well you’ve got a few months to come around to it,” you joke.

“I will be the best father and I will love this child with every ounce of my being. I will write them a litany of songs that would make the angels weep with the love I hold for them and their mother,” you smile at the dramatics that come of Jaskier’s emotions and press your foreheads together.

“I’m glad this will be good for business,” you tease.

“This is the best thing. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me,” he says. And for once, without reservation or fear, you believe him.

[trade-baby-blues]

Jim Kirk: Raiders of the Lost Shuttle

Pairings: Jim Kirk x reader

Word Count: 826

Warnings: none I think? I don’t even remember

A/N: You were chased by the cops, got in my car and just yelled ‘Drive!’ requested by @trekfangirl​ for my 300 follower celebration a million years ago I’m so sorry. I’m a mess. I hope you like it though! I had a lot of fun with it. Also I have literally no idea how the flying cars work in the Star Trek universe, so I completely made this up but it was still a Good Time. 

You joined Starfleet for the adventure. You took a post on Yorktown because they promised excitement. As you stared out of your office window overlooking the city, you couldn't deny it was beautiful, but not exactly the excitement you were looking for. You wanted action and adventure, a hot and fast romance with a partner you knew was trouble. Hell, you’d even be willing to give up the romance part if it got you out of this office. Maybe you’d been watching too many old action movies lately.

You sighed and locked your PADD in the desk drawer, knowing you weren't going to get any work done until you got this restlessness out of your system. Luckily, being one of Starfleet’s most successful business leaders under 30 meant you could set your own schedule, so you told your secretary you were heading out and hopped in your car. A couple loops around the test track would calm your nerves. Plus, there were a few one-man shuttle prototypes that needed test driving, so you could even say you were technically still working.

You drummed your fingers on the steering wheel, humming along to a song you couldn't place. Your foot hovered over the gas, ready to speed off as soon as the light turned green. It would only be a few more miles until you were strapped into a pod testing the limits of modern science, you just had to -

“Drive,” a voice yelled as your passenger door opened. You managed to suppress a scream, but your body immediately went into defense mode. You’d had enough Starfleet training to know how to disarm a gunman. Except this gunman didn't have a gun. “What the hell are you waiting for? Drive, please.” You took one more look at the Starfleet-issue survival suit and hit the gas as soon as the light turned green.

“Where are we going,” you asked, eyes glued to the road as you weaved through traffic.

“I don't know,” the man said, turned to look out your back window. His blond hair caught the light and his jawline almost made you weep with joy.

“What do you mean you don't know?” The man looked at you with blue eyes you could get lost in. Blue eyes that were almost as tired as yours.

“I’m not from Yorktown. I didn't exactly have time to stop and ask the scavengers for directions while they were firing at me.” You opened your mouth to respond, but the man pointed in front of you and yelled, “Look out!”

You snapped your head around, immediately catching sight of the truck crossing the intersection in front of you and you swung the steering wheel to the left. Your tires screeched as the car swung around and hopped the curb. The man beside you clung to the box in his lap, lips pressed tightly together to keep from screaming. Your knuckles went white around the steering wheel as you got the car under control again, driving straight for the edge of the road into the airways. The man stared at you desperately out of the corner of his eye, still not daring to open his mouth. He shut his eyes tightly as the car went over the edge of the street and you swore you heard a squeak beside you.

You were grinning wildly, pressing a button tucked away behind the steering wheel. There was a jerk as the thrusters on the bottom of the car sparked to life, and then the car was moving through the air as easily as it did through the streets. You looked beside you, and thought for a second the man had fainted, until he cracked his eyes open. He saw the car was still moving and you were all still alive and relaxed marginally, taking a deep breath.

“That was…”

“Phenomenal,” you cut off, still grinning. You laughed. “God, I’ve always wanted to do that.”

“You've always wanted to drive off a road?”

You shrugged. “I’ve lived a sheltered life.”

“Where do you even get a car like this?”

“You don't, technically. It's not supposed to hit market for another year while they tweak some problems with the thrusters, but I got an early model. Perks of being the head of Starfleet’s biggest tech company.”

The man hummed in response. He looked out the window briefly before snapping his attention back to you. “Thruster problems?” His voice was higher pitched, but he tried to keep an otherwise calm exterior. “You mean we might have fallen to our deaths?”

You shrugged again. “Maybe, but what’s life without a little risk,” you said with a wink.

The stranger stared at you in awe. “I think I love you.”

“Maybe we should start with names before we get into wedding vows. I’m Y/N.”

“Jim Kirk,” he said, grin finally matching yours. You looked over to him and his eyes were sparkling with excitement.

“Where to next, Jim?”

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