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bloodiedrogue · 1 year ago

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I'LL CRAWL HOME TO HER (14)

SUMMARY: Upon waking up, you realize just how long you've been gone for.

PAIRING: Astarion & Female Reader

WORD COUNT: 3,257

WARNINGS: Spoilers for Act 2, so much angst (this time with comfort!), descriptions of death, probably incorrect lore about necromancers and how their powers work. :')

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi, we're officially back in business baby, let's go! Sorry for the fillerish chapter. It's been so long that I kind of needed to keep things chill before the story starts up again. Hope you can forgive me??? <3 Also, thanks to @the-lady-amphitrite for letting me include their little necromancer Zamrie!

CHAPTER LIST / MASTERLIST / NEXT CHAPTER

It’s not uncommon for you to wake up breathless. With the presence of an unknown threat mixed with your history of nightmares, there have been countless moments upon gaining consciousness over the last few months that have felt like you’re dying. Gasping for air to no avail until Astarion’s hand meets your back to soothe your stress.

At this rate, it’s practically inevitable, especially with the Absolute and all its developments. Each night you close your eyes, more often than not all you see is their hatred plaguing your thoughts, your mind forcing you to stop and stare at whatever vision it’s decided to produce. As you lie still inside your bedroll, experiencing the false depictions of whatever horrors that occur, you’re left without much choice. Forced to lay and wait for that moment you’re jolted awake, wheezing in the dark.

Despite the intensity, you know deep down it’s always temporary. A passing thought that runs through your lungs until you’re forced to reset at the sound of Astarion’s voice telling you you’re fine. That he’s here and you’re there and that regardless of the dangers that lie ahead he’ll always remain.

When you awake that day, however, gagging at the air that rushes through to the back of your throat, you can’t help but feel the weight of eternity. As you shoot upwards, desperately clawing at the base of your throat, it’s as if you’re trapped inside this unfamiliar limbo, struggling to gain a sense of self as you blink and breathe and—

“That’s it, just like that, dearie. You got it.”

The voice that cuts through the darkness is light, their careful tone hitting your ears far gentler than anything else you feel. Closing your eyes, you can hear them humming under their breath, low and slow; working to match your own as you glance around the room, unable to properly see.

“Pesi, can you get her friends, please?”

Inhaling deeply, you suddenly feel a sharp pain erupt through your chest as the stranger speaks. Targeting your left side, you feel it push through you like a knife, catching every layer of flesh as you lean forward and groan at the impact, feeling a hand grace your back.

“It’s alright, just take deep breaths, okay? Nice and slow.”

Opening your mouth, you cough and clutch your chest, allowing the painful feeling to bloom outwards, each shot of pain targeting the span of your torso before filtering out.

As it happens, you force open your eyes and glance at the blurry mess of colour in front of you. A figure doused in sunset tones —pinks and oranges with hints of purple that slowly filter through to reveal a bright-eyed tiefling smiling in your direction. Overall, her skin is doused in shades of peach and decorated with various tattooed dots that primarily sit beneath her violet eyes that scan you anxiously.

“I’m Zamrie. A friend of Gale’s,” she tells you.

In response, you go to speak but all that comes out is a plume of stinging air that rakes through your esophagus, making you cough and reach for your throat, feeling nothing but numbness at the ends of your fingers.

“It’ll feel weird for a while I’m afraid.” She offers you a sympathetic smile, gripping your shoulder as the expression across your face twists with confusion.

How does she know what it feels like?

Suddenly, she lets out a laugh, gently digging her fingers into your skin, massaging the tension that you just now notice is there. “I know, I know —you’re probably wondering how I know how you’re feeling,” she says, making your confusion only strengthen as she nudges your legs aside to make room for herself. “Rest assured though, I’ve lived and died a thousand times, so I’m basically an expert when it comes to the after effects of a good necromancy spell.”

Necromancy?

Your eyes widen —your thoughts whirling through you like a disoriented storm, crashing into the inner walls of your head. Looking around in a panic, you hear Zamrie try to pull you back in, whispering words of reassurance in between more quiet hums that only spur your anxiety.

Shoving away her hands, you attempt to slip off the bed then, your legs wobbling at their newfound position, causing you to stumble forward, landing on your hands and knees.

“Oh, shit.”

Almost immediately, the tiefling abruptly rushes to your aid, reaching for hands that only work to slap her away, prompting her brow to furrow as she watches you struggle to move. “C’mon dear, don’t be proud. Just let me help you.”

You shake your head and groan, feeling your chest begin to ache all over again —the remembrance of your reality beginning to settle as you lower your head in pain.

You died during the battle against Ketheric. Died. And as you sit there, now keeled over in pain, remembering all the horrible details of that blade pushing through your flesh —of the helplessness you felt staring into Astarion’s weary eyes as Shadowheart worked to drag him away— all you can think about is how careless you’d been. How stupid and reckless and overall selfish for thinking that you could do anything on your own like that.

Gritting your teeth, you feel the numbness in your fingers slowly begin to subside the longer you kneel, granting you the opportunity to ball your hands into fists before pressing them angrily into the floorboards. Groaning loudly, you then punch the wood with what little energy you have, feeling your eyes begin to well up at the thought of your friends. At the thought of them potentially following in your footsteps into a world where everything meets nothing. Where every existing thing about you ceases all at once, leaving nothing but a shell for those to mourn.

Releasing a shaky breath, you stare at the floor beneath you, praying that nobody did. That instead, they managed to succeed despite your failure and that they’re already on their way to Baldur’s Gate.

“Where…wha—“

“Shhh, it’s okay. Everything’s okay, yeah? You’re alright.”

Grunting in frustration, you shake your head and look at Zamrie, feeling the tears begin to spill as you glance at her face, noting the stress that graces her features before the shock of loud voices erupts through the doorway, prompting her brows to raise before she turns her head.

Following her gaze, you look up to see everyone huddled at the doorway, staring with varied looks that upstart your tears, realizing how worried they must have been. How angry and betrayed they must have felt watching you do something so painfully stupid.

As you sit there, glancing at each of their faces, you can’t help but feel your heart break at such a realization. Taking in Karlach’s glassy eyes and Gale’s expression of pure relief —all of it quickly becomes too much to bear, forcing your head to drop again, allowing the threat of tears to overtake you.

All at once, the awareness of their love becomes apparent then, causing you to sob until all you can feel is the presence of arms and hands —bodies of all shapes and sizes wrapping around your frame like a warm blanket on a cold winter night.

All of them envelope you differently. While Shadowheart and Gale press themselves firmly against your back, Lae’zel’s hands are reluctant yet firm from a distance, taking refuge on your elbow with tight fingers, while Wyll and Karlach have completely pushed themselves into either crook of your neck, wrapping their arms around to pull you close.

Feeling the warmth of their skin and the heaviness of their breath, you can’t help but give in to the fearful thoughts that plague your mind. The way they hold you close, bracing for an impact you all but knew was bound to come, you let the stress of the last few months overtake you, reaching for whatever body you can find so that you can dig your fingers into the fabric of their clothes.

Immediately, the worn leather of whoever you're touching reminds you of war —of all the battles you faced thus far, struggling to maintain that same momentum you first started with. Running your fingers along the wear and tear, you feel a weight inside your stomach begin to swell, its unfamiliar heaviness making your face scrunch in discomfort, realizing this might be it. Having died and come back, there’s no way you could possibly keep going, right? After revival, you’re too weak to keep up —too broken and frail. A newly inhabited shell, replacing something that used to be much stronger.

At this rate, you’d only hold everyone back. Either that or make another big mistake that could cost more lives and obliviously that’s not an option. Not after how far you’ve gotten. Not after risking so much with what little you have.

“I can’t believe we’re hugging right now.”

Unsurprisingly, it’s Karlach who speaks first. Her voice quiet against the crook of your neck sends a chill up your spine like any other, causing you to let out a shaky laugh.

You can’t believe it either.

“She’s a bit out of sorts still,” Zamrie says then, forcing your eyes to glance up at her smiling face. “She’ll need to rest for a few more days. The process of revival is pretty taxing on the body. Considering you’re essentially reconnecting a detached soul to an already decaying body, you’re lucky you managed to preserve her as well as you did.”

As she pauses to let out a laugh, the majority of your friends sort of look around in discomfort, listening as Zamrie continues her long-winded spiel about the process of revival. All in too great of detail.

Almost immediately, it makes you a bit sick, listening to the grotesque ways your body was essentially put back together at the hands of her and Withers, forcing you to close your eyes as your head begins to spin. You realize then that you should probably lie down again. Considering there’s more than likely a rough road to recovery ahead of you, you assume most of your time spent over the next few days will be in bed, drifting between sleep alongside Astarion’s—

Feeling a sudden panic rise through your chest, you look around to see him nowhere, causing your mind to slip further out of control, resulting in you pushing and pulling —desperate movements taking over your body as you work to distance yourself from the hold that currently binds you. Sensing your stress, the group quickly distances themselves in response, a handful of nervous and reluctant stares watching as you plant one hand against the floor to steady yourself while the other moves to your throat.

“Wh— where—“

You cough violently as the previous ache in your throat rips right through, interrupting your words in the form of a distorted wheeze.

As it happens, you can’t help but think of the worst possible outcome regarding his absence. Imagining his lifeless body somewhere all alone, trapped beneath the rubble of an aftermath of battle, all you can see is his flesh. Pale skin stained with crimson, all torn apart to reveal the inner parts of himself. Amongst the rubble, you envision tendons splitting between broken bones —a lifeless face ripped with wild red eyes so empty compared to the life they once held. Tightly shutting your eyes, you imagine shattered fangs and cut-up lips left open in preparation for a dying breath you never got the chance to try and fix.

Suddenly behind your eye, you can feel your tadpole wiggling violently. Rushing from one end to the other, its presence quickly wreaks havoc on your skull, forcing a groan to escape your lips, realizing someone’s there. That there’s a voice calling out to you, telling you it’s okay —that everything's fine and he’s safe, so please stop crying.

Focusing on the voice, you hear Shadowheart’s tone eventually begin to push through, prompting your tear-stained eyes to drift to her, catching a soft smile. It’s subtle, as most of her outward emotions are, but regardless it speaks volumes. Reassuring you in a way that makes you smile back, mentally thanking her again and again until there’s a set of footsteps at the doorway.

“What the hell are you all—“

His words are dripping in confusion. Rattling through your system like an echo of waves, the mere thought of it pulls you forward, forcing your body to crawl closer, watching the way his eyes glaze over once he catches sight of your crumpled frame.

As soon as he notices, he promptly pushes past all the bodies that separate you, breathing so hard that when he inevitably drops to his knees in front of you, clawing at the fabric of your tunic to pull you into his chest, you can feel it shaking. Rising and falling through the stress of his unbound anxiety, showing you just how much he missed you. How much he longed for your presence however long you were gone.

Feeling him shiver against you, you immediately break, crying harder than you ever have before. Allowing the catharsis of your shared embrace to fill up the room with desperate sobs that leave both of you breathless.

Gripping the base of his shoulder blades, you then maneuver your body until you’re completely wrapped around him, sitting on his lap, tugging at tufts of hair as you push your fingers through his curls.

“Star…”

“Shh, it’s okay. You’re okay,” he speaks with disbelief, clutching you tight. As if the fear of this all being a dream has led him to believe that if you part somehow you’ll disappear entirely.

Nodding against him, you press a gentle kiss to the side of his neck before pressing your forehead into the same spot, feeling him shift.

“When did you wake?”

You open your mouth to speak before swallowing hard, opting to use your Illithid. Not long ago. Where were you?

Getting supplies. I’m sorry I wasn’t there. Zamrie said—

Before he can finish his thought your hands are on his face, fingers splayed out to cup the delicate angles as you press your lips to his, feeling how cold they are. How the temperature bites against your own, forcing you to work for the heat you long for in the form of languid licks and nips that have you dizzy all over again.

Hearing the background sound of footsteps followed by the shutting of a door, you can’t help but grin through the movement of Astarion’s mouth pushing open your own, realizing then that you’re alone. That for the first time in ages it’s just you and him and both of you safe from whatever evils lurk beyond the exit.

“I’m still…very much…mad at you,” he eventually says, groaning between the kisses you steal through his frustrated tone —no longer caring if your behaviour bites you in the ass later.

That’s fair.

He snorts as he places a hand on the back of your neck, placing one last kiss to the edge of your mouth before pulling away, looking at you with narrowed eyes. “I can’t believe you left me with those idiots. Do you know how boring they are? I swear, the minute we arrived in Baldur’s it was like—“

You roughly tug at the collar of his shirt to get his attention, widening your eyes. Wait, we’re in Baldur’s?

In response, he immediately huffs. “Gods, of course nobody told you. They were probably too busy hugging you to death all over again,” he says. “I swear, it’s been nothing but chaos since you left. Karlach’s been crying for weeks. Shadowheart and Lae’zel have been at each other’s —ow!”

You narrow your eyes and pinch his cheek. Astarion, what the hell happened?

For a moment he just sits there, watching you with those angered eyes that make your chest tighten and your stomach flip, remembering then that none of it matters anyway. That for now, despite the lingering curiosity of it all festering at the back of your mind, wondering how long it’s been and how everyone’s truly fared, you don’t care. So long as everyone’s alive and well and the progress you’ve worked so hard to push through is still on track, all you care about is him.

Are you okay?

Even with his unwavering resilience, you know deep down that he hasn’t come up the other side unscathed. That regardless of what he might say in replacement of the truth, there’s something uneasy hidden beneath the surface. You can see it in his eyes. In the way they drop almost immediately at your words, his expression shifting from anger to confusion to a mix of something foreign you can’t quite place.

Opening his mouth, you see the quiver of his lips. The wobbling motion of uncertainty before he suppresses his thoughts, swallowing hard at the presence of fear to say, “I’m fine. Now that you’re here.”

Frowning then, you trail your thumb across his cheek, tracing the peaks and valleys of his flesh, skimming thoughtful patterns across the expanse of his face, eventually winding up at his lips. Thumbing the lower one, you press your own together and look at him with tired eyes, surveying the age of a man who’s so obviously been pushed to his limits.

Yes, but are you okay?

He isn’t. Not in the slightest. And you can tell because the moment you ask he’s crumbling all over again, clutching your frame —pulling you in with far too much effort for someone who claims such nonchalance.

Pressing his digits roughly into your flesh, it’s as if he’s changed completely. What once was a man of constant mischief —a man with unlimited lies and tricks up his sleeve to hide the truest version of himself— has now become too honest. Too candid in the way he presents himself as he clutches onto your frame, acting as if you’re the last sliver of light in a forever-darkened sky.

It breaks your heart almost instantly, feeling the tremors of his body releasing all the pent-up anger and betrayal —all the sadness of a passing he was ill-prepared to handle. Fisting the fabric that rests against his back, you grant him access to your neck without hesitation, feeling him burrow inside, whispering all the thoughts he couldn’t say when both of you were separate and alone.

Inside your mind, you can feel the pain of his Illithid showing you a memory. A flash of magic mixed with a broken man’s cry filtering through closed lips. Unlike anything you’ve ever heard, it punctures your ears like a needle, painfully pushing through until it’s all but cut off without warning revealing the face of your last dying breath before everything goes black.

“We tried to save you sooner,” he whispers, placing a kiss to your neck, then to the fabric that rests against your shoulder. “But every moment between then and now was spent fighting those bastards.”

You place a hand on his hair, gently running your fingers through before repeating the process, hearing him breathe.

“We’d only just arrived this morning, I swear.”

You smile then, pressing a kiss to his head, telling him that it’s okay. That he’s okay and you’re okay, repeating the words over and over until you can feel his body begin to loosen at the seams, granting you both a moment of relief before he tells you he loves you and you do the same.

@poohxlove @gaiasmight @sassy-stupid @novarex @v-gremlin @sapphiccloud @lipstickghoulie @kuroitsukyo@jjfchk@idiotsatan@bluestuesday@bloopthebat@art-by-greenie@heneralmoon@sukunababe@dreamingaboutyousworld@ranfithegood@haniscrying@liadamerondjarin@the-lake-is-calling@marina-and-the-memes@rookieoftheyear@zraloci-cpr@kaetmo@snickerdoodle-daydream@wowowwild@d1anna@raswiet@conniesbbymama@venus-wrts@demonicthorns@kihten@deadglamsheep@sanscas@spammypasta@leighsartworks216@rose-gold-blue@p1ssmagg0t@hellish-writes@ghostinvenus@otayz@sexysquatch@sleepyeclair@colorful-anxieties@alina-exe@ilana-the-lasagna@lillifer@girlwiththepapatattoo@y2cade@acelin-ginsberg@pinkuranium@catrad0rable@scarletrosesposts@qwnamidala@itsrosebabe@bunnyperi@queenofcarrotflowers-s@tatumadams20@spkyxszn@chlort@f3v3rs@awkwardwookie@joy-the-reader@warm-milk-with-honey-blog@vertigocrime@iyis@wildpiper@pebblethestone@tillywasneverhere@bex-03@kaetmo@revemiya@staticspouse@itzagothamcitysiren@djarinsmixtape@when-the-night-came@epicy0n@bababahannah@sleepyred1703@lotus-99@lofcompass@r4d10h34d5@vampninjaz@itsmekalou@offbrandhand@yikes-buddy@konenichi@rainonarden@oceanbluesixeyes@bodtyworship@maydayitsjay@greasyslimebucket@yeeteth-the-raven@fantasyfairysworld@allexthakatt@flowersaretheshit@morglyne@thespectacularspaceace@cephiss0@use-your-telescope@furblrwurblr@kloverfield@angelofthorr@writervaul-t@starved-kitten@minixluvr@crowley--aziraphale@sapphicwren@alionera-blog@jennithejester@dezedrol@thisisew@saladalpaca@applepiewithbacon@httpbiohazard@aurasyn@nerdoodles@kingpinthedevil@itzkawaiix@domainoflostsouls@silverskylan@uminootome@helpidkwhatimdoingwrong@deadlyinfernos@blackbirdswhispers@sarahskywalker-amadala@writingmysanity@f3v3rs@jayjones03@quietlyebbie@optimisticprime3@eyes-for-daze@sunnytalia3@megoshh@maddiedott@cappsikle@mostbeautifulnightmare@lynnlovesloki@simpytheshrimpy69@astarion-archive@smaranshakthi@autistic-deer@shadowfeart@freckled-petals@candied-lavender@hp-art-studio@ghouligan@satelliteapotheosis@waywardwitch-hel@pandimoostuff@mythoughtsofinsanity@ilovelovelylove@oneandonlyizabelle

TAGLIST NOW CLOSED!

#i'll crawl home to her #a lover’s folly #astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion fan fic #astarion series #astarion x female reader #astarion x reader #astarion x you #summer writes

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herofics · 9 months ago

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Yooo, remember a WHILE back when you made those Sloth HC’s for Mina and Kiri? (Took me a lot of scrolling, you make TONS of great stuff luv.)

Could you somehow transfer that to JJK with Todo and Maki? I just love the concept of it and how you’d incorporate that in their world.

A/N: Thank you, if you want to find posts easier, the masterlists are linked in the pinned post. The post/request can be found here and it was pretty fun to write back then. It was also pretty fun to write now too. These are based on how the characters are in the anime, rather than in the manga, because the manga is so much ahead. Did HCs since it’s the easier option, but I gotta admit I don’t have a particularly good grasp on Todo’s personality especially, but I hope these are fine

~Zenin Maki~

•Your cursed technique stockpiles cursed energy the more slothful you are

•It comes with your physical abilities strengthening and your cursed energy becoming more intense (Idk how the hell CTs or CE works)

•You do your daily things, you train with the others and stuff like that, but you always do it the easiest way possible, the way that requires the least effort

•Maki wasn’t a big fan of you when you first started in Jujutsu High, you started at the same time and she found you quite infuriating

•You never seemed to take anything seriously, most of the time you were just lounging around, yawning, looking generally tired and being lazy

•But when she saw you fight for the first time, actually fight against a curse when you were assigned on a mission together, she was stunned to silence, which is a pretty impressive feat for anyone when it comes to Maki

•You always liked her, you thought she was badass and no matter what anyone else thought, strong

•You and Maki actually end up becoming pretty close after you saved each other’s asses on the first mission you had together

•The dating thing just kind of happened without either of you really realizing it, until Panda made some off hand comment about you two dating and you were both like “We’re not dating!”

•Which led to the conversation of “Are we dating?” and ended with the conclusion of “I guess we are”

•When you overexert yourself, you fall asleep very soon after, therefore you have to be good at distributing your cursed energy evenly so you don’t run out

•You also have to sleep for a pretty long while after to get your cursed energy back to a normal level

•Maki doesn’t really care if you’re lazy, since you still put effort into the relationship and you can hold your own and you’ve got her back in a fight

~Todo Aoi~

•Todo used to not have a very high opinion of you, because of how lazy you were

•He felt like you never put any effort into anything, especially physical training, which was very much the case but he didn’t yet understand why

•You never really talked about your cursed technique, because you didn’t see a reason to

•So Todo didn’t know about how it worked or that your lifestyle was very good for your cursed technique

•When you finally got annoyed at his attitude and the constant chastising, you told him about your cursed technique

•Now he can just complain to you about your martial arts and close combat technique, which he does

•Todo actually starts helping you with honing your technique, which includes a lot of sparring and you getting beat because you don’t want to use your cursed energy on him

•He wouldn’t kill you, and getting at least a bit beat up was a pretty daily thing for you as a jujutsu sorcerer

•Todo has had to carry you back from missions a few times when it got tough and you over exerted yourself, because you fell asleep

•He doesn’t mind, and he’s much gentler with you now that you’ve started dating

•Before he just threw you over his shoulder and carried you kind of carelessly

•When you need to recharge, you like to sleep in his bed

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #todo aoi #maki zenin #maki x reader #todo x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jjk headcanons #jujutsu kaisen hcs #jjk hcs #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jjk fanfic

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allmyocsarebritish · 7 months ago

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Kiss, maime, kill: Chapter 3 - My soul is yours

Pairing: Alastor X killer! Fem reader

Warnings!!!: Reader and Alastor are serial killers, Reader actually becomes self aware for once in this chapter, drug mentions, angst and fluff, love confessions, the warning list is getting quite long

Word count: 1k

1930

Louisiana, New Orleans

The sound of twigs snapping beneath your feet as you sprinted echoed through the empty woods. Alastor ran a few paces ahead, prompting you to push on, in order to match his stride. Uncontrollable laughter slowed you both down, as did the rather heavy knife he was carrying. Thankfully, it had been two years since you had ditched the shovel for the majority of your killings.

Any ordinary person would assume that the two of you were trying to get caught, the thrill of the chase. And, whilst that added additional excitement to you, it wasn't the main reason for your carelessness. Yes, you wanted your bodies to be found, but not for you to be exposed as the murderer. No, your main motive was to be feared.

The charismatic radio host and his dearest friend could surely never be suspect to such a vile crime. The town was shaken to it's roots by fear of the Louisiana Butcher, never knowing what kind of sick bastard was lurking in the woods at night. The utter dismay every time another person was added to the list of those who had gone missing in the past 3 years was entertainment for you and Alastor. It was so captivating.

Your thoughts raced as you caught up to Al, trying to keep some form of lid on your laughter. But the smiles present on both of your faces was enough to portray the pleasure this brought you.

"I really hope there's no brutal killers in these woods." You giggled, twirling the knife around your fingers.

"I suppose you had better start running now then, Cher." Al smiled, a dangerous glint sparking in his eye.

"Oh no, whatever will I do?" You stared at him with huge doe eyes, faking a fearful expression before taking off, dodging between trees. Alastor was hot on your tail, barely allowing you a moment's head start before giving chase. The hunt was exhilarating, and you felt a familiar excitement take control of you. Adrenaline was one hell of a drug, and your addiction was becoming more and more lethal each passing second.

Unfortunately, your game was cut short by a raised tree root tripping you as you dared to throw a fleeting glance over your shoulder at your pursuer. You landed very ungracefully on your ass with a thud, somehow managing, in your infinite clumsiness, to bring Alastor down with you.

Your face flushed as you realised the position you were both in. Alastor was all but on top of you, his hands supporting himself either side of your head. His rather long fringe (bangs) flopped over his forehead, and his glasses had begun to slide down his perfect nose. You reached out a hand and pushed them back up, his face softening into a gentler smile.

"Got you." He smirked.

"Guess I should stick to being the hunter, huh?" Overwhelmed with embarrassment and flustered beyond belief, you tried to cover your face with your arm, but Alastor pulled it away.

"Don't be so sure about that, my dear. I'm quite addicted to the feeling of the chase."

"And the attack?" You questioned, confidence and excitement rising.

"Just sublime." Alastor leaned in gradually, giving you plenty of time to escape. After all, he may have been a serial killer but he was still a gentleman, letting you establish your comfort zone.

You met him in the middle, all of the adrenaline, thrill chasing and emotions rising to the front of your mind.This. This was your new addiction. Passion. Danger. Sadism. Pleasure. All blended into that first kiss.

"Your presence has impacted me so much my dear, that, even when I'm not alone, i feel something is missing should you not be by my side" he pulled back slightly, voice low and quiet despite the solitude offered by the oh-so-feared woods.

"Where they see a merciless killer in your eyes, I see my future." You responded, relishing in the moment. Being overwhelmed by emotions was nothing new to you of course, but this feeling was foreign. You liked it. Craved it. "I hope you stay with me forever."

"Of course, Cher." He rolled off you, so that the two of you were lying on your backs, side by side, and staring up at the onyx sky. The stars reflected the lights of heaven above, a stark juxtaposition to the sins and atrocities you committed beneath. Brightness in the dark, like Alastor's presence in your life.

You turned your head, facing Al and taking in the moment. He looked serene, gazing at the night sky, and strangely normal. Perhaps in another life he was, just a charming radio host, nothing more nothing less. In that life would you still be at his side? Would you still have met? Surely if fate desired, but why should you receive suck a blessing after all the suffering you caused?

What the fuck? Never in your whole career had you given a second thought to ending someone's life. But reflecting, your morals had gone more than wayward. Though regardless if how remorseful you felt, it didn't change a thing. The past was the past, and addiction had already sank its claws into your unsuspecting flesh.

"Al?" You began tentatively, worried he'd grow distant if you were turning soft.

He hummed in acknowledgement, small smile still playing in his lips as he continued to gaze towards heaven. A paradise you would never see.

"I don't deserve this. I don't deserve you." Your voice began to waver. This was not a good rush of emotion.

"Look who's becoming self aware." Alastor turned on his side, now laying facing you. He gently caressed the side of your face, hand pausing over your cheek. "Tell me every terrible thing you ever did, and let me love you anyway. I want to love you without you having to hide the parts of you that you deem unlovable."

Your gaze met his, and you felt a high overtake you once more. "I adore you, Al. With my whole heart. And I'm sorry I created.. complexities."

"And I do not care how complicated this gets. I still want you. I always will, Cher."

He opened his arm to you, and you slotted underneath, basking in his warm embrace.

"I love with my soul instead of my heart or mind, in case my mind forgets or my heart stops. But my soul will forever be yours, Mon cœur."

Part 4!

#hazbin hotel #alastor imagine #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor x you #hazbin alastor imagine #hazbin alastor x reader #human alastor

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seraphirism · 1 month ago

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I just counted the current butlers and now we have 18 but the prophecy told us there will be 20 butlers.... that means two more people 😳 I'm so excited for it and so far, Shiro is refreshing to have cus mostly we have gentle and kind butlers but with him being added as our butler who has tsun tsun and kiiinda condescending personality, I really like it 🤭 I imagine him as white tsun cat who's very distant to us but later on, he will warm up to us very soon 🥰

Now I'm looking forward to the future two butlers' personalities. And I wish we have a brown haired butler 😔 I really like brown haired characters in other games lol so I wish we have that

you and me both, bestie! Shiro is a refreshing addition for a multitude of reasons, the primary one being how blunt and cold he is. the rest of the butlers (although they have varied personalities from each other) are all polite and kind. all of them genuinely want to serve Aruji and are okay with this huge change from their previous lives (we see this with the villa first floor butlers as they adapt quickly.)

none of them refuse to see Aruji as this figure they have to serve and protect at the cost of their lives despite having just met them.

for the first time we see a devil butler who (at his heart) does not see Aruji as an authority in his life and wants them to earn his respect and protection. he also sees no reason to form connection with the rest of his fellow devil butlers as this wasn’t his purpose when he joined.

I’m also looking forward to how he’ll warm up (little by little)! i don’t think he’ll change too much, but just a bit softer, less harsher with his words.

now that you pointed it out, I realised; we don’t have brunet in the game 😱? we have green, pink, blue but not brown 😭? I like brunet characters too; typically they’re softer and gentler by personality. Bellen’s personality is of a brunet (though I love his current character design.) but yes! we definitely need a brown-headed character ✨ and considering how the characters are increasing, it won’t be unexpected if one of the next butlers is brown-headed.

i think at least one of the two new butlers will be from the West! the next parts of the story might just revolve around the West and Elboa—considering Shiro’s addition and his focus on finding his compatriots.

hmm, but we’ll see?

have a wonderful day ahead, anon 💞! october is almost here—which means it’s Halloween event time! i wonder if we’ll get an all character event this time too or if it’s going to be a few characters. I think 18 is a bit too much? but anyhow—i hope the cards are similar to the ones like last time (remember that card with Boschi? yep, the vampire one.) i can’t wait for it 😆

have a wonderful day ahead, anon (≧∀≦)!

#sol’s asks #manifesting more girly pop characters like Teddy and Bellen 🤞

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charliedawn · 8 months ago

Text

DEFECTIVE GOOD

part 8

It was a surprise when the shuttle landed on a rather beautiful planet surrounded by water and the beach made of thin layers of white sand. It was a strange and unusual sight for a stormtrooper. JR-6025 looked around as she felt the sun gently heat up her skin under her armour…It wasn’t the kind of place she was thinking of. She even smiled as she saw men and women walk alongside the beachside with children laughing and smiling.

…It really wasn’t what she has been expecting.

JR-6025 gazed around the stunning alien coastline with quiet wonder. This idyllic scene was like nothing she had ever experienced during her stringent First Order training. Children playing without a care in the world, families spending leisure time together in the sun—it was a vision of peace and prosperity that stirred unfamiliar feelings within her. What must it be like, to grow up with such freedom and joy ?

Her hesitation must have shown, for General Hux addressed her calmly. "I see this place confuses you, Trooper. But make no mistake—the simplicity you see here hides rot at its core. This system's people grow complacent in their comfortable lives, blind to the true threats lurking just beyond."

He surveyed the beach with a cold eye. "Our spy has roots in this community. With care and discretion, we may move among them unnoticed and extract the knowledge we need. Then this façade will crack, and they will see why true order must be imposed from above."

JR-6025 nodded solemnly, pushing down her lingering doubts. The General knew best—his vision would save worlds like this from themselves. She had a role to play, and would see it through with focus and precision. JR-6025 walked ahead and it seemed all the locals were shocked to see soldiers wearing armour and carrying weapons within their place of peace. As soon as word spread, they all started surrounding the soldiers—children curiously observing them. Some even poked at their armour.

Once in the center of their village, a man approached them and greeted them.

"Greetings, First Order. We didn’t expect you to land on our shores. What can we do for you ?"

JR-6025 stepped forward calmly to address the village elder, despite the crowds of curious onlookers.

"We come in peace, seeking information vital to our efforts against those who would threaten stability across the galaxy. Your system is known to harbor collaborators with the traitorous Rebellion." She kept her voice level yet authoritative, hoping an open display of strength could give way to cooperation. Violence would only breed more rebellion here. "If you value the safety and freedom of your people, elder, help guide us to those who may darken your shores with war. A show of good faith could secure your system's protection under the First Order."

Glancing sidelong at General Hux, she sensed his approval of her diplomatic approach. These people were innocents—there were gentler ways to earn their trust than threats or shows of power. Compassion might unlock the answers they needed most.

The elder smiled and nodded.

"I know who you speak of, but I am in the regret of informing you that they have already left. Two days ago."

JR-6025 considered the elder's words carefully. "I see. And do you happen to know where they were headed when they left ?" She kept her tone neutral yet probing, observing the elder's reactions for any signs of deception. Much could be gleaned from what was said, as well as what remained unspoken.

A glance at General Hux found his keen eyes equally assessing the situation. His strategic mind was no doubt weighing options for ensuring they picked up the rebels' trail once more.

Turning back to the elder, JR-6025 pressed gently, "Any information you could provide to help us continue our pursuit could help secure lasting safety for your village and system. The First Order protects all under its banner—might we count your people among our allies going forward ?"

She waited quietly for the elder's reply, hoping wisdom would guide him toward peace. The elder bowed his head respectfully.

"We are a peaceful tribe, stormtrooper. We do not seek trouble, but our planet has been known to be a safe haven for those who wish to live peacefully. There is no war here. And we are neutral. We cannot aid your quest. I am truly sorry."

JR-6025 glanced back at General Hux, but his face left no trace of what he was thinking. She sighed and looked back at the elder.

"I understand. But, would you consider letting us stay within your tribe for a few days ? Just to rest. And then, we will go."

She hoped that by staying, they might make contact with their spy and collect more information on the whereabouts of the Rebellion.

The elder considered JR-6025's request thoughtfully. After a long moment, he nodded. "Very well. A few days' respite we can provide, so long as your people remain respectful guests. Violence will not be tolerated here."

She bowed her head in gratitude and respect. "You have our word, elder. The First Order seeks only peace and cooperation."

Stepping back, she signaled to General Hux that their temporary lodging request had been granted. His face remained stoically unreadable as always, but she believed this was the wisest approach—rush too forcefully, and their quarry might disappear forever into the stars. Patience and understanding had won them an opening here where force might have alienated these peaceful folks. In the coming days, discreet inquiries among the villagers may yet uncover a new lead. And if not, at least no blood would be shed where it need not.

For now, she would help her squad settle and blend in as inconspicuous guests. Calm waters often hid greater depths, and she had faith their spy's message would come to light in due time.

The village elder guided JR-6025 and her squad to simple yet comfortable lodgings on the edge of the small coastal settlement. She watched the locals move about their daily routines—cooking, cleaning, telling stories or playing music...

General watched the villagers with keen eyes behind an icy facade. But JR-6025 observed subtle signs his frigid countenance belied deeper wells of feeling, stirred by sights few knew he possessed capacity to understand. After the elder took leave, she turned to Hux quietly. "The people seem peaceful, though wary of outsiders as any isolated clan. With courtesy, I believe trust may bloom."

His stern mien cracked the barest hint, approving her diplomacy's fruits thus far. "Well done, trooper. Your insights continue proving...useful." Eyes flared with calculative designs behind cool appreciation.

"Maintain friendly relations while discretely inquiring our spy's whereabouts. With any fortune, villagers may yet prove cooperative without realizing." His smirk hinted darker purposes, should gentler means fail. But she sensed his bloodlust simmered, valuing order through stability over fear-fuelled chaos. Comprehension paved swifter roads to victory than violence alone.

"Consider it done, General." With a respectful nod, she turned to commence inquiries among the Atzerri folk, now mingling around evening fires. Patience and empathy were her tools this eve; through them, answers may surface without bloodshed staining these shores. Her way was not one of threat, but of understanding. And thus far, it bore promising results. With care and discretion, the mission's demands could be met while preserving peace here, for all people deserved security and joy. By dawn's light, she hoped to report their quarry's trail once more illuminated.

JR-6025 made her way through the bustling village center, catching glimpses of the blue-skinned Azterri folk going about peaceful routines as evening fell. Spying a group gathering shellfish along the tideline, she approached respectfully. "Greetings. I see you've had a fruitful gathering. Might I assist, and earn a chance to learn of your village in exchange ?"

The Azterri eyed her warily but one elder waved a webbed hand. "Your help is welcome, outsider, if conducted in harmony."

She knelt to sort their harvest by size and type, taking care to understand each variety's name and purpose in their aquatic diets. Her companions soon joined. As time passed, the Azterri relaxed into easy company. Their history and culture flowed forth, alongside news of local happenings. Delicately, she inquired after recent visitors—had any outsiders passed through of late ?

One youth perked at this. "Ah, yes ! A most unusual pair, they were—a funny Wookiee and nervous pink Twi'lek. Spoke little our tongue but traded salvage for supplies two sun-cycles past. Said they fled some inland trouble, destined for the Correlian runs."

JR-6025 bowed her head in thanks, softly relaying the intel to Hux via hidden comm. Within moments a subtle signal confirmed his receipt and approval of her handling thus far.

Rising, she smiled at the Azterri. "You've been most gracious hosts. Perhaps another dusk we may share your evening meal and watch the sun embark beneath waves, as friends."

They chattered eagerly at this prospect, and she took leave with a lighter heart. Through compassion, answers emerged where force may have driven all into shadowy silence. Her way would see this mission through to helpful end.

"Wait ! You must wait until tonight ! We will have a celebration of the full moon with shellfish and fire camps and delicious food !" A young Azterri said with a smile. JR-6025 smiled behind her helmet at the Azterri youth's enthusiastic invitation. "A full moon celebration sounds most welcoming. We would be honored to join as honored guests, and experience your culture's rich traditions."

As evening fell and villagers began lighting campfires along the shore, she helped her squad set up a respectful distance away—close enough to mingle, but giving space so the Azterri felt comfortable.

Soon the celebration was in full swing, with music, dancing and mouthwatering seafood delicacies. The Azterri freely shared their bounty and tales of ocean lore, drawing the troopers into easy conversation. JR-6025 noticed even the aloof General seemed momentarily charmed, questioning folk earnestly about aquatic flora and fauna in ways that betrayed a keen, thoughtful mind. Perhaps in such simple pleasures, all found their shared humanity.

As the gigantic orange moon rose majestically from waves, painting the ocean in dreamlike hues, she turned to the Azterri youth. "Thank you for including us in your festival. Your people possess a rich natural wisdom I fear is scarce in much of the galaxy."

He beamed, offering a chunk of coconut cake. "All beings share this world. Through understanding each other, we walk together in peace."

Looking around at villagers and troops alike enjoying the magical seascape, JR-6025 hoped his words presaged a future where compassion prevailed over fear or hostility between species. For now, in this brief interlude, such a vision felt almost tangible beneath the moon's silvery glow. Pushing such unproductive thoughts aside, she discreetly began making quiet inquiries around the cooking fires. But villagers remained politely evasive, unwilling to endanger supposed "refugees"—or invite trouble to their shores by aiding outsiders.

As sunset painted the ocean ablaze, JR-6025 spotted a lone hooded figure in the surf, skipping colorful stones across the waves. Casually making her way over, she spoke in a friendly tone. "The surf looks especially calm tonight. Care if I join you?" The figure paused, then nodded slightly. A subtle invitation had been extended.

She sat down next to the man and looked up at the stars.

"Beautiful, isn’t it ?" The man followed JR's gaze upward, gazing appreciatively at the myriad stars twinkling against the night's velvet canvas.

"Aye, the view from here is something special," he replied in a soft brogue, skipping another stone across the gentle surf. "Gives a body perspective, you know ? We're but motes against the vastness."

JR-6025 nodded thoughtfully. Living each day rigidly within protocol and orders, she rarely contemplated such philosophical implications. But out here, under the galaxy's wheeling splendor, a strange sense of smallness and possibility seized her. After a beat of contemplative silence, she ventured casually, "It's peaceful here. I can see why some might wish to disappear among the islands." A subtle invitation for her new companion to speak freely.

He skipped another stone before replying just as delicately. "Aye, the folk know how to live quiet and let be. But some burdens can't shake so easy..."

A quiet understanding passed between them then. And in the stars' glimmering mirror, reflections of greater truths began to shine through.

She glanced at the man.

"So…May I ask how you found yourself on this planet ?"

The man tossed another stone,watched it skip thrice before sinking into the inky depths. "A long road brought me here, as such things often do." He turned his hooded face toward JR-6025, eyes glinting mysteriously in the low light.

"I used to crew on a transport, flittin' around the Outer Rim deliverin' goods as needed. Came across all sorts that way—scoundrels, dreamers, folk just tryin' to get by." He smiled wistfully. "And rebels, now and then. Willing to risk it all fightin' for what they believed."

JR-6025 listened raptly. This man had undoubtedly crossed paths with her targets, even if not part of their cause himself. Each nugget shared could unveil greater meaning. Could he be the spy they were looking for ?

"When things started heatin' up," he continued, "more folk took to fightin' or hidin'. So I found a quiet berth to wait it out, help where I'm needed. And these islands call a body to rest, don't they now?"

His eyes held an invitation, and a question. And in the darkness, truths began to emerge from the deep.

She smiled to herself.

"Yes. I found myself thinking that this planet would have been a perfect place for me to settle when the war is over…Maybe, would they accept a lowly stormtrooper like me ? Who knows ?"

The man considered JR's wistful words thoughtfully. "Ah, there's more to you than armor and duty, I'd wager. These folk see the soul, not the suit."

He gazed out across the surf, voice lowering confidentially. "Fact is, a certain band o' rebels I once ferried made mention o' seekin' safe harbor hereaways, once they'd shaken their pursuers. Said the islands' elder folk believe in shelterin' all mankind from the galaxy's storms."

JR-6025 listened intently, carefully schooling her reaction. At last, a tangible lead on her quarry's location—yet this peaceful place must not be disturbed further.

"You've given me much to ponder under the stars," she replied gently. "This life seems far removed from war. Perhaps there is wisdom to find off the beaten path, in time."

She smiled at her new friend, hoping a bond of understanding was forming beneath the surface. And that further truth might emerge, to end this conflict once and for all through compassion instead of force. The deep yet held many reflections, and in darkness hope could begin to shine through.

She then asked.

"Tell me, stranger. What is your name ?"

The man glanced sidelong at JR-6025, shadowed eyes glinting with quiet shrewdness. For a long moment he said nothing, contemplating the possibilities that came with revealing one's name. At last, he spoke softly:

"Finlay. And you, soldier...do stormtroopers take names, or only designations ?"

His tone held no judgment, only gentle curiosity. This woman who had come to their shore bearing arms yet shown him courtesy and care for understanding—there seemed more driving her than mere programming. JR-6025 pondered her response in turn, mulling the implications of crossing this threshold between duty-bound identity and undiscovered self. Something in Finlay's kindly aspect put her at ease, sensing she could trust him with a fragile truth underground for so long.

"JR-6025," she said finally. She turned to Finlay and offered a small smile. "That is the only name I’ve ever known."

Finlay returned her smile warmly. "Then by the stars above, it's fine to make your acquaintance...JR." JR-6025 chuckled at the nickname. And so in dark waters truth began to flow, as two souls found common ground and understanding beneath opposite sides.

"…Tell me, Finlay. You who has met a lot of people in your life. Do you have an opinion on how this war will end ?" She hesitated before adding. "Or who should win in a war such as ours ?"

Finlay weighed JR's question thoughtfully, gazing out at the moonlit surf. After a long moment, he replied in careful measure:

"War's always a mess, no matter the side. Good folks die while villains hide. As for who should win..."

He paused, giving voice to a wisdom forged over years bearing witness.

"I don't claim to know the right or wrong of grand designs. All I see is people—our hopes, fears, little triumphs against the dark. And how we treat each other, on a small scale...that's the deciding battle, in the end."

Turning to JR with gentle empathy, he continued, "That's why I take my rest with island folk who open their arms to all mankind. No questions about who's 'rebel' or 'loyalist' - just livin', lettin' live."

A small, calloused hand found hers beneath the starlight. "There's always hope, as long as compassion lasts in folk like you and I, lass. The rest will follow."

She looked down at his hand on hers and—to her greatest surprise—smiled.

"I think…If the world thought the same as you, then there would be no war. A funny thought coming from me who’s always ever lived in war."

Finlay's eyes crinkled at the edges as he smiled in return, giving JR's hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

"Ah, but that's the beauty of it—there's always room for change, in hearts as well as galaxies, when folks join together in common cause. Doesn't matter where you've been. Only where you go from here." Releasing her hand, he tossed another stone, watching it skip and sink into the receding tide with a final plop. His next words were pitched low, just for her ears.

"These rebels you're chasing—if you found them, what would you do ?"

He raised a brow kindly, leaving the question—and the answer's implications—for her alone. But a glimmer of opportunity shone in his eyes, if she was willing to open her own. Beyond duty, a new future might emerge from dark waters, borne on a spirit of understanding between supposed adversaries. The deep yet held reflections that could end this conflict for good.

She laughed. She had never laughed before.

"If I find them…If I find them…" She seemed at a loss for words for a moment as uncertainty took a hold of her heart. She then looked straight at him. "…I would tell them to run."

Finlay's smile only widened at JR's musical laugh, the first flowering of mirth from a soul long held captive.

"Then may the wind be at their backs, lass," he said gently, giving her arm a caress of solidarity. Her eyes looked at him for a long while in silence…

"…You are not just any old man, are you ?" She smiled knowingly.

Finlay's eyes glinted with warm mirth. "Now see, you're catching on quick as anything !"

He gave a theatrical bow, casting back his cloak to reveal the ubiquitous orange flight suit and battered woven belt beneath. "I think you can put two and two together, dear JR."

Rising with a playful twinkle, he swept imaginary dust from his shoulders. "Let's just say when word got around of a certain First Order battalion heading our way, I offered to do a bit of...reconnaissance."

His smile softened as he took her hands once more, thumbs brushing her knuckles in reassurance. "And I'm right glad of it too, for it led me to a soul worth saving. The Force works in strange ways, but somehow I feel this meeting was meant to be." Gently lifting her chin, Finlay—no, Poe Dameron—met her gaze openly, trustingly.

She smiled.

"Very nice disguise by the way. Hologram ?"

Poe threw back his head and laughed heartily at that, a rich, throaty sound that seemed to lift some unseen weight from the air.

"Aren't you the sharp one ! Yes indeed, a simple hologram over the ol' flight suit does wonders for anonymity." His eyes danced with playful mirth. "Seems First Order scanners can recognize my face from here to Tatooine, so a stranger's visage helps in doing a spot of recon up close."

Sobering gently, he gave JR an appraising look. "But it was your own discernment that saw past the surface projection, into what—or who—lay beneath. Not many could have done the same in your boots, JR-6025."

He placed a hand on her armored shoulder, face open and sincere. "That says to me there's a discerning, caring soul growing strong—one more than capable of making her own choices now, free of imposed rules or designations. When Finn told me about you, I knew I simply had to come talk to you and see what he saw for myself."

With that, Poe stepped back amicably. The hologram disguise flickered and vanished, revealing himself in all his patched, lopsided glory, with an outstretched hand and invitation glowing in his eyes.

"What do you say—care to join this lost old smuggler, and see where the night may lead ?"

She hesitated.

"…General Hux would notice my absence. And you should probably run…before they catch you."

Poe merely chuckled at that, shaking his head good-naturedly. "Come now, friend—when have a few buckets of bolts and that powdered peacock Hux ever slowed down a Dameron ?"

He softened, taking JR by the shoulders to meet her apprehensive gaze squarely. "I understand you've reservations—change is daunting, as is leaping blind into the unknown. But you don't have to walk it alone. Follow me. And you will understand that there is MORE than just the First Order out there…"

Poe squeezed her hands in silent understanding, leaving final choice and timing safely in her care. But a spark of rebellious hope glimmered in his eyes, kindling flickers in her own soul with promises of what salvation and community could be.

"I…" She started, but then a voice boomed behind them.

"JR-6025 !"

They both turned around to find General Hux standing there—his brow furrowed and his teeth clenched. He had his pistol raised towards Poe.

"Step away from the Rebel scum."

Poe threw up his hands good-naturedly at the sight of Hux and his blaster. "Now Armitage, is that any way to greet an old friend ?"

"DO NOT CALL ME BY THAT NAME, YOU LOW-LIFE INSECT !" General Hux shouted and Poe flashed him a roguish grin.

"Right. Sorry, general Hugs. My bad…"

Hux's eye twitched ominously, finger tensing on the trigger. But Poe's carefree smile didn't falter as he slowly turned to JR. His eyes, however, held a steadying gravity.

"This is your moment of truth, my friend. But know that whatever path you choose, you'll never walk alone." He gave her hands a final, fleeting squeeze.

Then, with a jaunty salute, Poe pivoted on his heel and took off at a dead sprint down the shore, Hux's shouts and blaster bolts hot on his tail. In the chaos of the chase, a choice was left for one soul—to follow orders as before, or strike out towards her own destiny among the trees.

JR-6025 was left stunned as she then quickly hid a transmitter that Poe had placed into her hand before sprinting away. She then quickly put her helmet back on and looked back at General Hux who was glaring at her.

He then took her arm and seethed.

"Come here…soldier."

He dragged her towards the beach and JR-6025’s eyes widened as she saw that the Azterri folk had all been rounded up. Some were crying while stormtroopers were encircling them with blasters in their hands.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING ?!" She screamed and attempted to stand up—but general Hux forced her back on her knees and seethed in her ear.

"They LIED. They knew that Poe Dameron was hiding on the island. Now…watch. Watch what happens to TRAITORS."

"General, please !" JR-6025 cried desperately, struggling against his vise-like grip. General Hux then motioned to his storm troopers. They surrounded the refugees holding guns in their hands in a menacing manner.

"Fire," Hux commanded mercilessly and JR-6025’s eyes widened as she screamed. General Hux smiled as bullets were fired at the gathered Azterri. His eyes glimmered in satisfaction as people were being killed. JR-6025 trembled in fear and anger as he watched helplessly as they were being slaughtered. JR-6025 began to tremble. She struggled against Hux’s grip.

"GENERAL ! STOP…" She attempted to look away. General Hux gripped her arm tightly and forced her to watch.

"Look. Look at the consequences of YOUR actions."

The stormtroopers continued to fire their weapons at the gathered Azterri people and JR-6025 continued to struggle against General Hux’s grip, tears began to pour down her face. She closed her eyes tightly, trying to block out the horrible sight, but she was powerless to stop it. She continued to tremble, and General Hux smirked as he continued to force her to watch. She slowly looked up at him with tearful eyes and shivered as she recognised the same twisted satisfaction she had witnessed during the destruction of Hosnian Prime. General Hux continued to smirk as the Azterri were shot and killed. His eyes were blank and lifeless, devoid of any empathy or remorse. He continued to grip JR-6025’s arms, forcing her to watch.

After a few moments, General Hux finally spoke. "They were harboring a known rebel. They were complicit in his crimes, and therefore must be punished."

She screamed and tried to fight against him.

"Let go ! Please ! Stop ! Make it stop !"

General Hux only clenched JR-6025’s arm harder as he continued to smirk and watch the massacre. He showed no ounce of remorse or mercy as the innocent refugees were shot dead. After a few more moments, the stormtroopers ceased firing. The gathered Azterri had all been killed. The beach was now silent, except for JR-6025’s sobbing breaths.

Once the beach was silent, general Hux released JR-6025 who fell to her knees and let out a gut-wrenching scream. She then glared up at general Hux—her teeth clenched.

"Is that really what the First Order stands for ? Is that what ORDER means to you, general ?!"

General Hux continued to stare back at her as if she were an insect. He did not blink nor move as he remained silent. Finally, he spoke…

"The First Order stands for the restoration of the Empire—a return to the ways of the past. Order, as I see it, is discipline and control—two necessities for success. These Azterri were obstacles to our goals, and therefore had to be eliminated. Their deaths will not hinder the First Order—they were insignificant."

Her breath hitched at his words and she looked at the hundreds of people—all dead. Was that really what they were ? Insignificant ? She raised up onto shaky legs and remained silent for a moment. However, from the corner of her eye she saw a blue blur run past the dunes of sand. She recognised the young Azterri who had invited them to stay for the moon celebration.

She pretended not to see him and sent a silent prayer for the young Azterri to forgive for agreeing to stay…She then looked back at general Hux and forced herself to remain impassive as she clasped her hands behind her back and replied.

"These people harboured no ill-intent—they simply wished to live in peace. Violence will only breed more hostility, not compliance. There are gentler paths to the truth. Do not make enemies of innocents when cooperation could serve us better.” For a long moment they faced off in tense silence, the other soldiers holding aloof as their commanding officers faced off. Then to her surprise, Hux released his hold with a derisive scoff.

"Your naivete borders on sedition, soldier." He accused and JR-6025 held back her rage by digging her nails in the palm of her hand. JR-6025 met Hux's cold glare unflinchingly through her visor, emboldened by new resolve. "I engaged peacefully with the rebel to glean intel that could aid our mission, General." She spoke calmly but firmly, revealing no trace of inner turmoil. "Violence would have compromised my covert effort. Through non-confrontation, I learned of his route and confederates."

Not entirely a lie—Poe had indeed revealed pieces of the greater puzzle in their talk. But she carefully omitted the true epiphany it had sparked in her soul, the glimpse of higher purpose beyond orders and programming.

"The fugitive evaded capture through tricks and gadgets, not due to any lack in my training or effort." She stood taller, projecting steadfast loyalty cloaking burgeoning independence. "I live to serve the First Order and its goals of order through stability. My actions tonight advanced that mission without compromise."

Hux regarded her silently, gleaming eyes probing for any hint of fracture or deception in her posture. At last he snorted derisively. "We shall see, traitor, if your claims hold weight. Return to your quarters—I expect a full report on my datapad by 0600."

He turned on his heel, stormtroopers trailing like feral hounds awaiting command. JR-6025 let out a small unseen breath before looking back at the Azterri young. She then uttered in a whisper:

"Find. Poe. Dameron." She was then brought by force to the shuttle which departed in a whirl of grit and fading engines. For now she had stalled further escalation through steadfast pragmatism and appeal to duty over malice. But the die was cast—there could be no return from the path she now walked towards freer horizons, only movements forward into the glowing dawn. The next day:

JR-6025 strode tall yet wary towards General Hux's private office, Poe's secreted transmitter weighing unseen in a hidden compartment beneath sleek armor. After their charged confrontation, she had spent a restless night drafting her report—omitting certain sensitive details while conveying enough strategic intel to appease Hux without compromising her burgeoning bond with the Resistance.

Now came the true test—would her words alone shield her from the General's penetrating suspicion, or was she courting more hostility in stubbornly clinging to her humanitarian facade ? Only frank yet carefully navigated conversation held hope of maintaining fragile cover. Tapping the access pad, she entered at Hux's beckon, coming to perfect attention. His desk displayed intel readouts, yet steely eyes remained fixed calculatingly upon her.

"General." JR greeted him levelly, revealing nothing.

Hux leaned back with an icy sneer. "You walk a dangerous line, 'trooper, toying with treason yet professing loyalty. Your report speaks of gaining the rebel's trust, yet yields tangible leads...how curious."

His probing gaze sliced like a vibroblade. But she stood resolute. "I believe in serving the Order's goals through steady progress, not inflamed conflict. Cooperation over force is often the surest path."

"Is that so ?" Hux slid her datapad across the desk, bringing up her written account. "Then enlighten me, soldier—fill in what 'strategic details' your report chose to...omit."

She paused only a beat before replying smoothly. "Sir, while the rebel revealed intel regarding fleet movements and outpost locations, betraying further confidences could compromise future intelligence gathering. I believe the information provided already advances our objectives."

Hux eyed her an icy, calculating moment more before throwing back his head and barking a harsh laugh. "You show potential, 'trooper—a deft hand for subterfuge alongside battlefield efficiency. Very well. Your...methods have borne fruit this time."

He rose, gesturing brusquely to the door. "Consider this a warning. Forget about your rebellious inclinations, and serve the Order without question or hesitation. Else the consequences will be...severe. Dismissed."

JR-6025 saluted crisply and departed, keeping emotions locked down until beyond hearing. Only then did she release a small, relieved breath. For now she had maintained a tenuous balance - but how long until her intricate dance on the knife's edge became too perilous to maintain ?

General Hux then added before she left.

"And I won’t be allowing you on diplomatic missions anymore, until you’ve proven yourself to me. You will be demoted to your old position as a shredder. You will be shredding and shredding until you are moulded into the perfect obedient soldier. A few months with Lieutenant Li will make you realise what it means to obey. Dismissed."

JR-6025 let out a harsh breath as she closed the door and leaned against it. She had dodged a bullet—for now. Her encounter with Hux had confirmed her suspicions. But it also left her with no doubt that her path was becoming increasingly precarious. She would need to find a way out of this tangled web before it caught her in its sticky strands and swallowed her whole.

JR-6025 took a deep breath and looked outside at the stars above. She hoped that the Azterri child had succeeded in finding Poe Dameron. She then looked down at the transmitter in her hand and held it against her chest. She held the transmitter close, knowing the danger it represented. She thought about what the next step should be…and what the consequences of this path might be…

#fandoms #imagine #fanfic #star wars #kylo ren x reader #general hux x reader #defective good

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eastwindmlk · 1 year ago

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By the time that seventh year rolled around, some people had developed an uncanny ability to spot the look on McGonagall’s face. The look meant that someone was getting bad news. It had mercifully evaded people too close for much longer than any of them had expected. Longer than any of them could have hoped for. But when her shadow appeared behind them at lunch, her severe look pained and her lips pinched, and the entire Gryffindor table held their breaths. Eyes roamed the rows, watching for the poor bastard being picked out of the line.

What no one expected was that the hand would land on James’s shoulder, and there was a collective gasp. All the eyes were checking on the half-blood or less students. The kinds of people that were the prime targets of these tragedies.

Getting up from his seat caused a hushed whisper to start floating along the table. Like fire, it spread in every direction. By the time the shocked-looking head boy was out of the Great Hall, it had reached the far corners.

The nervous mutters caught on quickly; even the paintings were talking about it. By the time they reached the office of the head of house, James could hear them already:

‘The Potters?’ ‘They’re targeting purebloods now?’ ‘What does that mean for the 28?’

And all James wanted to do was yell at them and tell them that it could be anything. His parents were fine; this wasn’t anything like that. For the first time ever, he hoped that they’d been found out. He was just being stripped of his badge, and that was that. He prayed all the way up those stairs. Eyes on his dragging feet.

The office smelled like tea, a red flag. They all knew she would offer the poor sods a cup of tea. “Sit down, Mister Potter. Have a biscuit.” The professor told him, her voice gentler and more pained than usual. More red flags. “I’d rather not, professor. If that means you’re not going to say what I think you are,”

There was a silence where the pair looked at each other, coming to a silent understanding. Ending with James sitting down and taking a ginger snap from the tin, unable to bring himself to eat it. Dunking it in the cup of tea in front of him. Listening to the elder witch speak as it slowly devolved into the steaming cup.

Waiting for the ringing in his ears was the only thing he could hear before pushing himself up onto his feet. “Thank you, professor.” Somewhere in the flurry of his thoughts, the young Gryffindor remembered to smile politely before fleeing from the room. Fingers already pulling at the knot of his tie, hoping that would fix the tightness in his throat,

Eyes still on the flagstone ahead of him, he noticed too late that someone was in his path. He collided with them suddenly, reeling back. Carefully manicured fingers grabbed onto his shirt, keeping both of them upright. “I don’t want to talk.” He protested reflexively, not wanting to see the look of pity that was surely on the redhead’s face.

“Fine, then we walk.” Dismissing her remark with a shrug, James continued his track down the hallway. Anywhere, but here. Anywhere, he could avoid the eyes and the whispers. Pushing through hidden corridors and gliding down the back stairs. Anything to avoid the crowds.

All the way down to the backdoors, he could hear the sound of Lily’s loafers following him all the way down. Every sharp corner, every skipped step. Pausing only after pushing the door open to caution him. “James, it’s raining. You’re going to get sick.” Only making him pause long enough to tell her. “I’ll be fine.” Expecting her to turn back, she was right there, crunching the leaves underfoot.

By the time they were halfway to the lake, the rain had soaked through the robes, and the November cold was seeping into his skin. Lily was right; if he kept going, he would probably get sick. But he could not find it in himself to care. Not when the biting wind was the only thing stopping him from breaking down. It drowned out everything around him. He was hoping that, in the silence, he would find a way to go back to class. To carry on with his day, plan a funeral.

“James!” Lily’s voice cut through the fog, insisting, and likely not the first time she had attempted to catch his attention. Her fingers closed around his soaked sleeve and tugged. His body responded to her silent demand. His cold body was met with her heating charm. The warmth unexpectedly shattered the walls he’d put up.

“You don’t need to run, but if you do, I am going to be right there.”

#jily #31prompts #jilytober #jily fic #jilytober2023 #jily fanfiction #jilytoberfest2023 #james potter #lily evans #jple #jily microfic #james x lily #hurt/comfort #repost

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snowflakesnsundry · 2 years ago

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There’s a certain level of connection and emotional investment required to write any character well. Loki, in my opinion, is not a character that is easily written. He is complex, guarded, and often contradicts himself. Even so, you have captured his essence with this story. You explore his nuances and show glimpses of his hidden qualities in a way that is characteristic of Loki (for better or worse). You understand who Loki is. ��️

Now for some specific favorites:

I love that you nodded to the snake story (it’s one of my favorite parts of Ragnarok!)

It’s easy to understand when and why Loki is masking around others.

The protagonists personality is a great blend of her parents. She clearly takes after her father, but I think she has much more of her mother in her than she realizes. It will be interesting to see if she acknowledges and develops that side of herself (considering everything that’s happened and what lies ahead)

Baldur! Frustrating, infuriating, smug, vicious, strategic… I could go on. Very well done😅

I’m anxious to see when/how the prejudice towards Jotunheim and the frost giants effects future events. It feels like she’s had so many clues but hasn’t put 2&2 together. Then again each clue has been spaced far enough apart that it’s easy to see why the connection hasn’t been made yet.

I’ve got a pretty big conspiracy theory about their conversation re: seiðr but I’m probably reaching so I’ll spare you the chaos of my mind labyrinth 🤣

Sorry, this turned out to be much longer than I intended!

Anyway, I hope you’re feeling better. I just wanted to let you know what I appreciate about your work (specifically).

I… Anon, I cannot say thank you enough. Writing has been my joy my whole life, and before I started this fic I had been stuck in a stage of my life where I had lost faith in my ability to do so. The fact that you have cared enough about what I have written to convey this level of detail and insight into the story strikes me to my absolute core- and again, I cannot thank you enough. At the risk of over sharing- the reason I adore writing Loki is because I relate to him perhaps a little too well. I grew up the child of a very visible public figure, and felt as if I never quite lived up to expectations. I had one parent who was gentler with me, and we shared a love of writing through which we connected. With my other parent, their anxieties and fears for my future often left us at odds, and I felt as if they strongly preferred my siblings. I always fell short of what they wanted me to be, and so I largely drew inward. In highschool, the former parent passed away, and it broke a part of me. I reacted by engaging in increasingly self destructive behaviors, and withdrew from everyone else. Eventually, I was fortunate enough to meet someone (a tutor) who helped me advocate for myself and ask to go to therapy; they helped me not just internalize everything anymore. I learned what parts of me were different, and why I often felt I fell short- and fortunately have been able to get a lot of help with it Unlike loki, over time I grew much closer to my family, and have been able to fully settle into my own (mostly)- and its something I hope his character finds as well. Watching the TV series was something that made me feel like, maybe, there was a realistic chance for me to find some sort of healthy relationship with someone someday- despite all the imperfect parts of me. Because someday, I will find someone who understands those things too. Anyway, for those reasons- and others- your comment and your kindness made me cry. That was something i seriously needed <3 If you see this, I beg you- send me your conspiracy theory. I too live in a constant mind labyrinth, and I would love to see yours. Also, new chapter is now up :P Again- Thank you. https://archiveofourown.org/works/33865711/chapters/109025235

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havensins · 2 years ago

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Hiii could you do something with like sub Steve Rogers but it’s his first time bottoming and the reader goes gentle until Steve asked him not to be gentle anymore, idk😭

steve rogers x top!m!reader

cw . sub!steve, dom!reader, praise, slight degrading (slut), sir kink, romantic at first, soft sex in the beginning, soft at the end, slight mention of scratching, captain kink, aftercare.

note . hopefully im not still shadowbanned!!! my works are showing up in tags anymore and it’s depressing 😭😭 i don’t really like how i wrote this, buuut i hope you enjoy :)

steve was everything all at once. so leading and domineering, in control of his life as a hero. always so sure of himself, confident in his abilities to lead a team.

but there were other moments, moments the rest of the world didn’t get to see. the gentler type moments. moments where steve was at his most vulnerable, reliant and dependent. needy, even.

you were grateful that he shared this piece of himself with you, the part that was softer, the part that relinquished his control to you.

you treated steve like he was rare glass, because that’s how he was to you. rare and special, valuable and fragile all in the right moments.

times like these were ones that stuck in your mind and flashed at times like images on a projector. steve in all of his glory, skin flushed as his breaths were soft. his hands gripping your shoulders, neither pulling you closer nor pushing you away. his legs crossed loosely over your lower back as you were pressed into him; joined together at both of your most sensitive places.

you were going slow, taking your time to cherish the male. pushing the gentle moans from his mouth, and he sounded as sweet as he looked in the moment.

“i…” he begins, eyes fluttering closed as you push into him again. “i don’t… you don’t have to be so gentle with me…” he whispers, eyes still closed. you stop all together, deep within him.

“i don’t wanna hurt you, baby,” you tell him softly, and he chuckles lightly. “you won’t, i can take it, i promise.. i’ll let you know if i can’t,” he answers. “i want you to be rough with me, please?” he asks, blue eyes looking at you through his eyelashes.

with a nod, the corner of your lips tug upwards, hands moving towards his hips. you grip his hips, pulling them flush against you. catching his eyes, you pull out, nearly completely before pushing back in. his mouth drops open, eyes lidded.

you continue, picking up the pace and going faster, and hooking one of his legs over your shoulder. his hand drops from your shoulder to the sheets, grasping them tightly in his grip while his other hand scratches at your back with dull nails.

“this what you wanted captain?” you ask, eyebrows furrowing. “wanted me to fuck you like you were some kind of slut, huh?” you groan when he clenches around you at the degrading. “y-yes sir,” he gasps, eyes rolling.

“yours.” he moans, “your s-slut…” he gets out, reddening even more. you move a hand to his neglected cock, jerking him at a slower pace. “all mines,” you grunt, watching his cock twitch in your grasp.

“i’m going to cum,” he whimpers, hips bucking up, attempting to get away from the onslaught of sensations. “go ahead, make a mess all over yourself,” you allow, feeling yourself get closer and closer to an orgasm.

his body jerks, the sounds coming from him downright sinful. broken whispers of “i’m cumming,” fall from his pretty lips until he goes silent, and stripes of warm cum are painting lines along his stomach.

the sight makes your own cock twitch, tightening your grip on his hip, delivering one, two, three more thrusts before you’re filling him up. he quivers at the overstimulation, dazed out of his mind while you gather yourself and pull out slowly.

the silence is nice, comfortable. steve is getting out of his own mind, and you’re carefully wiping the cum from his stomach.

“who would’ve known,” you start after a moment. “that the captain america likes to be manhandled and treated like a slut in bed,” you tease, laughing when he groans.

“shut up,” he mutters softly, smile teasing his lips.

yeah, it was these moments too. these moments were just as soft as those where he relinquished sexual control, and equally as cherished. you wouldn’t trade any of this for anything, ever.

#dom male reader #top male reader #avengers x male reader #marvel x male reader #steve rogers x male reader #sub!steve #sub!steve rogers #dom!reader #x male reader

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blindmagdalena · 2 years ago

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So there was a bts pic of Homie’s bedroom and his walls were covered with historical photos of like George Washington and stuff. I have this hc that once his s/o realizes this, she gives him a photo of the two of them together in a frame and he is so overjoyed and touched by this, he kinda doesn’t know what to do. How do you think that scene would play out? I totally realize this is kind of a request but I just love your writing so and think you could do it such sweet justice 😊

"What is it?" Homelander asks, staring down at the gift bag in his hands. It's absolutely bursting with bits of festive tissue paper, but no glitter. You learned a while ago that he despises glitter for the way it sticks to him. His sense of touch is apparently as keen as his every other sense, making glitter akin to devil dust on his skin. You smile demurely at him. "It's a present."

"It's not my birthday," he says, looking up at you with furrowed brows. You expected him to make a joke, or scoff at your duh-worthy answer, but he looks genuinely bewildered. "It's not our anniversary." "No, I know," you say, your tone gentler now. "But, uhm... Well, go ahead and open it. I'll explain after."

After giving you a perplexed once over, Homelander looks back down at the bag and begins pulling the tissue loose. You hold out your hand to take it, leaving him free to carefully lift the picture frame from the bag. He stares at it for what feels like an eternity, blinking several times. Suddenly, you're starting to feel nervous. Does he not like pictures of himself? Maybe it wasn't for lack of consideration that he didn't have any personal photos in his own home. Maybe he— Homelander cuts your internal spiral short with a sudden laugh. It's a breathless noise, and as he continues to blink, you realize that his eyes are glassy. "Hey," you whisper, leaning in, putting your hand on his forearm. "Are you okay?" "Look at that," he says, gently tapping the back of his fingers off of the frame. It's not the most flattering or artistic picture, just a candid photo of the two of you from a private Vought event, leaning against one another, smiles bright in the way only genuine joy can be. "It's so fuckin'... Normal. No politician, no goddamn ribbon cutting, no promotional material. We're not shaking hands," he says, exhaling another laugh. "Just you and me." "Just you and me," you echo quietly, rubbing his arm. Homelander's entire life has been commodified so thoroughly, and it strikes you raw to realize this is perhaps the first photo he's been given that wasn't for an autograph. "You have so many pictures, but none of yourself, so I thought... You could use something more personal." You watch the way his thumb strokes along the outside of the frame. He sniffs lightly, clearing his throat. You wait patiently while he processes, and after a few moments, he carefully pops the stand out of the back of the frame, and sets it upright on the side table, staring at it. "You like it?" You ask, tentatively hopeful, though you're fairly certain these are good tears. The next thing you know, Homelander's hands are on either side of your face, drawing you in swiftly for a deep kiss, wringing a small noise of surprise from you. That melts quickly into delight as you relax against him, cupping his face in return and kissing him back. He kisses you nearly as long as he'd stared at the picture for. Even once the kiss breaks, he doesn't let you get anywhere. He presses his forehead to yours, eyes soft, still misty. You stroke his cheeks with your thumbs, rubbing your nose against his a little. It makes him smile, like it always does. "I love you," you say quietly, pressing another small kiss to his lips. Homelander sighs, his breath minty and warm on your lips. "I love you so much." You're definitely going to have to get him some more pictures.

#thank you anon this made ME emotional!!!#homelander x you #homelander x reader #my writing #homelander #darling anon #ask and you shall receive #fluff

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imagineyourworld · 3 years ago

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The Wife

Wolffe x Fem!Padawan!Reader

Summary: When visiting a backwards village Plo Koon’s Padawan has to pretend to be married to Commander Wolffe in order to get the residents to back off

Warnings: Misogyny, a bit of nudity, a bit spicy making out

Check out my other work here

-------

You had been walking for what felt like hours when your Master, Plo Koon, received a message and asked you to join him at the front of the train of walking soldiers.

“(Y/N), my dear, I have some unfortunate news”, he started.

You looked at your Master expectically. Unfortunate news could mean basically anything and you could only hope that it wasn’t anything that would massively complicate your relief mission.

“As you know we’re going to deliver supplies to the Gonchee people here, and we don’t know much about them.” You simply nodded, not wanting to interrupt your Master, who continued just a moment later. “Master Yoda just forwarded me recent information we gained about the Gonchee. It seems they see human women as nothing more than, for a lack of a better word, prices or trophies to be won or taken.”

Your curious expression morphed into one of shock and disgust. Of course you knew that not every planet had the same standards when it came to equality between the sexes, but this level of misogyny was something you hadn’t expected to be confronted with.

“If I had known earlier I would have offered to let you stay on Coruscant or accompany another battalion”, Plo tried to apologize. But you just shook your head.

“It’s quite alright, Master. If I am to be a Jedi knight soon I will have to learn to handle situations such as this one, though I cannot say I am happy.”

Plo put a heavy hand on your shoulder and gave it an affectionate squeeze. He knew you were capable of handling yourself and could fight off a couple of Gonchee if necessary, but as your Master he still felt responsible and worried for your safety and wellbeing.

“Master Yoda also said that the Gonchee usually don’t bother married women, they consider them to be claimed by their husband.”

You looked up to your Master, expecting him to continue, but he just stared straight ahead, his expression never betraying his thoughts.

“I am not married, though”, you finally said.

“No, you’re not. You’re a Jedi and shouldn’t have attachments”, he answered.

Part of you wanted to correct him. You were not a Jedi, not yet at least. But the other, bigger, part was overjoyed your Master considered you a Jedi and not just a Padawan.

“I suppose I could ask Commander Wolffe to pretend to be your husband. Just for your safety, of course”, Plo continued.

For a fraction of a second you lost your balance, but quickly managed to catch your footing again. He couldn’t know about your crush on Wolffe, could he? Sure, your Master was a great Jedi, strong in the force, and he knew you better than anyone, having raised you like his own daughter, but you have been so careful to hide your feelings for your commander.

“Only if that’s what you want, of course.”

You took a moment to consider the proposition. Feelings aside, it was a good idea. If being ‘married’ would make sure the Gonchee wouldn’t bother you and ensure you could do your job that was a good thing, the rational thing to do.

Finally you nodded. “Only if Wolffe wants to, though. Otherwise I’ll ask Sinker.”

-------

Wolffe hasn’t been watching you and the General, that would be ridiculous. And of course he hasn’t noticed how your hair shines in the sun or how you smile at your Master with love and trust in your eyes. And when Plo Koon asked to talk to him a while later he wasn’t hoping to find out more about your conversation with him, that thought never crossed his mind.

“Wolffe, I have a favour to ask you.”

Wolffe simply nodded. He would to anything for the kind Jedi who treated him and his brothers like actual people, who never showed them anything other than respect.

“Of course, General. What is it?”

“I want you to be married to (Y/N).”

It took all the self control Wolffe could gather not to look at the Jedi, not to blush and not to let his feelings show.

“Is this a test?”, he asked. Though it seemed out of character for Plo, maybe he was trying to get Wolffe to confess his feelings for you. Feelings he had spent months and months trying to deny and repress, feelings that would get him in more trouble than he could ever imagine if anyone were to find out.

“No, no”, the General reassured his Commander. He then told Wolffe about the situation and why he was asking this of him.

Wolffe nodded along with the explanation before finally daring to look at Plo.

“Did (Y/N) suggest me as her fake husband?”, he asked, trying his best to keep his voice even and steady. He knew it was a arisky question that might tell the Jedi more about his feelings than he should know, but he couldn’t help but wonder and he wouldn’t agree if you would rather be fake married to one of his brothers instead of him.

“It was my idea, though she seemed to be quite happy with you as her ‘husband’“, Plo answered in a tone that told Wolffe the Jedi had to be smiling under his mask. “I just thought you were the obvious choice, considering how close the two of you are.”

Wolffe nodded, not knowing what to say.

“That makes sense”, he finally said.

Plo looked at the young man next to him. Though Wolffe’s expression was usually stoic, now it was even more so. It seemed forced, as if he was trying his best not to let any feelings show. The General couldn’t help but realize just how similar the clone’s expression was to yours just a bit earlier.

“Maybe you should go to (Y/N) to discuss how you’re going to handle the situation. I’ll inform the others to play along”, Plo suggested after a few moments of awkward silence and with a quick “Yes, sir” Wolffe turned around to find you amidst the soldiers.

-------

By the time you were nearing the village, you and Wolffe had just finished your plan.

“Let’s go over it one last time”, he suggested.

You opted not to tell him that that would be the third ‘one last time’, partly because you knew he didn’t like being corrected and would not hesitate so snap at you, partly because going over this plan like any other mission made it easier for you to let it sink in that this was just that, a plan, a mission, pretend. You were not married to Wolffe, nor would you ever be. The two of you were friends, nothing more. Because no matter how you felt, how you’ve been feeling for quite some time now, you could never be together, even on the off chance that Wolffe reciprocated your feelings.

“The Gonchee don’t know anything about Jedi, other than that we’re here to help, so they won’t find our ‘marriage’ suspicious. We’ll them we met at the beginning of the war and have been married for a couple of months. Really, Wolffe, it’s not that complicated, I’m sure we’ll both be able to remember to play the part.”

The snark reply you had been expecting didn’t come. Instead Wolffe simply nodded and stared straight ahead.

“Just remember to keep physical contact to a minimum”, he reminded you for the fifth time.

You rolled your eyes. Sure, Wolffe had never been one for hugs and cuddling, unlike many of his brothers, who often seeked you out for a comforting hug, but he really didn’t have to tell you to keep your hands to yourself every couple of minutes, you were not some hormonal teenager.

“Will do, Commander.”

Without another word, or even so much as a nod, Wolffe speeded up his steps to join Master Plo at the front.

“What’s gotten into your husband?”

You turned around to find Sinker looking at you with an amused expression, Boost right beside him sporting a smug grin.

“Guess he’s just not too thrilled about being fake married to me”, you tried to joke, even though just the thought hurt more than you cared to admit. Of course you knew nothing could ever happen between you, but you’d be lying if you said that you hadn’t hoped that this mission would allow you to pretend for just a little while, to maybe get closer to him.

“If he really didn’t want to do it, he wouldn’t do it. I heard him talking to the General, Plo asked him, he didn’t order him. Wolffe could have stepped down and let one of us take his place. And I’m sure most of us would have happily done so”, Boost claimed, laying a hand on your shoulder and sending you a warm smile.

Maybe it would have been better to do this with someone else, someone who would put his arms around you to really sell the story and who you could laugh about the whole affair with afterwards. And yet you knew that being in a ‘relationship’ with anyone other than Wolffe would have been worse than Wolffe’s obvious dislike of the whole situation.

“It’s fine. Wolffe’s just being Wolffe, he’ll come around once we arrive at the village”, you tried to reassure both the troopers and yourself.

-------

Wolffe had, in fact, not come around by the time you reached the village. He had spent the rest of the way talking to your Master and completely ignoring you. It was moments like this that made you question why you even had feelings for him, he was so hot and cold, sending you gentle smiles and sharing inside jokes one moment and acting like you didn’t even know each other the next. But it was those few moments when his gentler side, which you alway thought was more his true self, showed, that kept you hooked.

It was Plo Koon who interrupted your thoughts by asking you to join him and Wolffe at the front to greet the Gonchee.

The small creatures were no bigger than Jawas, had greenish fur and ears that reminded you of Loth cats, other than that they looked pretty human.

“Good evening. I am General Plo Koon, these are Commander (Y/N) (Y/L/N), Commander Wolffe and the 104th. We were sent by the Republic to deliver supplies and help you reset your village.”

The Gonchee at the front, who seemed to be an older man, bowed his head slightly, the others, all male you realized, followed suit.

“Welcome, Jedi Koon. I see you have brought a female with you, I don’t suppose she’s here to stay with us?”

The way he licked his lips with his yellow tongue made you shudder. You could sense resentment practically rolling off your master at the Gonchee’s words, but more than that it was Wolffe’s arm around your shoulder that calmed you.

“My wife will most certainly not stay with you, she’ll be by my side, always.”

Maybe you imagined that his arm tightened around you as you leaned into him, but you certainly didn’t imagine the growl coming from his throat as the Gonchee looked you up and down.

“Such a shame. Having a human woman is an honor to us, you know and this one seems to be a fine specimen. You’re lucky to have her.”

Though his words sounded as if he was buying your lie and letting go of the thought of having you, whatever that meant, you couldn’t bring yourself to believe that he, or any other male Gonchee, would leave you alone. Not even Wolffe looking at you from the side, a small smile on his lips, could relief you of your anxiety.

“I feel like the luckiest man in the galaxy every minute I have her next to me.”

His words were directed at the Gonchee, but somehow they felt like more. Like something one would whisper to a lover in private.

It was only when Plo spoke up again that you could tear your eyes away from Wolffe, from his warm gaze and full lips.

“The men will bring in the supplies now, if you’ll allow, and then we’ll settle for the night.”

The Gonchee at the front nodded.

“Of course, of course. Though the lady should stay with the other women. You see, we don’t allow women to do any physical labour.

-------

Several Gonchee had offered to accompany you to the hut the women of the village spend most of their time in, but you had declined. That didn’t mean you could go alone, however. The entire 104th seemed to have noticed the glances the male Gonchee shot you and had silently agreed to never let you out of their sight while you were in the village. Which is how you found yourself with your hand in the crook of Wolffe’s elbow, being lead to the ‘women’s hut’ as it was called.

“I’ve been to many planets and have met people of many cultures, but none of them were as backwards as the Gonchee. If they could see you in action they would know not to look at you like that”, your companion grumbled.

You swallowed down the urge to tell him that quite a few shinies have made their moves on you in the past, though you had shot all of them down and had to admit that none of them reduced you to your body the way the Gonchee did.

“It’s only for a couple of days. It’ll be like a mini vacation for me, not having to do any work.”

You could feel Wolffe eying you from the side but refused to look his way.

“I wish I could stay with you”, he said, more to himself than to you. “I mean someone. I wish someone, one of us, could stay with you.”

You chuckled. It was rare to see this side of Wolffe, the side that corrected his words, that stuttered and almost seemed nervous.

“I’d like you to stay. But you have a job to do and I can defend myself, should anything happen.”

You placed a hand on his arm, and though you were sure he couldn’t feel it through the plastoid armor, he seemed to relax just a little bit.

“We both know that I can take care of myself. Besides, it’s only for a couple of hours, I’ll be with you again before you know it.”

He nodded, but the frown never left his face entirely.

“I’ll have someone come in and check on you every now and then. It’s not without reason that we have to pretend to be married, we cannot be careful enough.”

Wolffe’s tone told you that there was no use in arguing. And maybe he was right, if even your Master, who you knew would never disregard your ability to fend for yourself, thought it would be safe to always have a man, to always have Wolffe, with you, it couldn’t hurt to be safe rather than sorry.

“Sounds reasonable.”

Just as soon as the words left your mouth you stopped in front of the the small building the Gonchee had told you to go to. It looked ancient and primitive compared to the skyscrapers on Coruscant and shining starships you were used to, but through the open door you could spot pillows and blankets and a roaring fire inside. At least you’d be comfortable.

The women inside seemed to have heard you approaching, because most of them stopped their work and conversations to catch a glance at you and Wolffe.

“I guess this is it”, you said more to yourself than your fellow Commander. He nodded nonetheless.

“Be careful. Don’t do anything reckless.”

You tried your best to swallow any remark since your usual answer to something like that would be exactly what Wolffe would describe as “reckless”.

“I’ll see you soon”; you replied instead. And because you could still feel the eyes of the Gonchee women on you, you lifted yourself up on your tiptoes and pressed a gentle kiss to Wolffe’s cheek. After all, you had to make your marriage believable.

The low noise Wolffe made shocked you for a split moment. It was a mixture between a grunt and a sigh that didn’t speak of surprise as much as... disbelief? You couldn’t quite place it. Though you tried not to think about it too much as your turned away from him and entered to hut, where the women started questioning you immediately.

-------

True to his word Wolffe had sent someone of the pack to check in on you every ten minutes or so, but despite their reports that you were perfectly fine and just talking to the women of the village, Wolffe only felt a sense of relief when he saw you again himself.

You were sitting next to Sinker on one of the many logs surrounding the fireplace. The rest of the pack as well as Plo Koon were either on logs or the ground nearby while the Gonchee, mostly the men but a few women as well, sat on the other side of the fire.

As Wolffe stepped closer you lifted your head, and as always he couldn’t tell whether you had heard his footsteps or felt his force signature.

The old Gonchee who had greeted you was the first to speak up.

“Ah, the husband returns. Such a shame, I had thought I might have a chance with that lovely woman of yours after all.”

Wolffe knew that the polite thing to do would be to answer him, but one of the first things General Koon taught his men was that it was better to say nothing at all if you didn’t have anything nice to say. So he simply walked over to where you were sitting and squeezed himself into the space between you and the end of the log, which resulted in you being squished between him and Sinker. A scenario Wolffe, being the overly protective man he is, usually wasn’t too fond of, but in this the more of the Wolfpack were around you, the better.

It was only when he felt you moving impossibly closer to him, when he smelled the last clinging bit of your sweet perfume, that had somehow endured the walk to the village and your time in the women's’ hut, that he was finally able to relax. You’d be right next to him, or at least one of his brothers or the General, for the rest of the night, meaning you were safe from the Gonchee for now.

Suddenly he felt your lips right next to his ear, your breath hitting his skin.

“If we wanna sell this marriage you cannot just sit there like a droid, Wolffe.”

The way you whispered, almost purred, his name made shivers run down his spine. And though he tried to suppress it, your soft giggle told him that you’d noticed.

With a small sigh he put his arm around your waist and pulled you even closer to him. So close that he could practically feel your body melting into his, though he tried not to think about how right it felt to have you in his arms, how your body seemed to perfectly fit right next to his.

“Is this better?”, he whispered in your ear. Out of the corner of his eye he could see you biting your lip and even pressing your thighs together. He shook his head, he must have imagined that. It was probably just you trying to get comfortable in this new position.

“How long have to two of you been married?”, one of the younger Gonchee asked.

For just a moment you tensed beneath Wolffe’s arm before relaxing again.

“Just a couple of months”, you replied. Your smooth lie impressed Wolffe, being raised by Plo Koon you were usually a fan of telling the truth and he couldn’t help but wonder where you learned to lie like that.

“And you let your wife fight?”, another Gonchee asked, the disbelief clear in his voice.

Wolffe sneaked a glance at you. How could anyone look at you and not see a warrior? Sure, your appearance might not be the most threatening, but wasn’t it obvious that the way you pressed your lips together spoke of determination? That you eyes told anyone who looked into them how much you’ve been through and how deeply you cared? That your hands were calloused from holding a lightsaber and yet soft enough to comfort a clone in distress?

“It’s not up to me whether she fights or not.”

A grumble of disagreement was heard from the assembled Gonchee, or at least from the men.

“We are very fortunate to have a warrior as great as (Y/N) fighting besides us every day”, the General said after a while. For anyone who knew him it was obvious that he was trying to end the subject while defending you at the same time, but the Gonchee seemed to think of his statement as a challenge.

“But what about children? How will she carry children if she is fighting?

From the way your shoulders tensed underneath Wolffe’s arm he could tell that you were close to telling the Gonchee of once and for all, and apparently SInker on your other side could tell as well, because now he jumped into the conversation.

“They’re still newly weds, children can wait until the honeymoon phase is over, don’t you agree?”

The oldest Gonchee leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees.

“We do not care for such sentiments. Our women cook our food, sow our clothes, take care of our children and warm our beds, believe me, it’s easier that way. Perhaps you should try it, Commander.”

For what felt like the thousandth time that day Wolffe looked at you. Of course you knew that you had to represent the Republic wherever you went, but usually that didn’t stop you from speaking up for what’s right. He wasn’t sure whether he should be impressed by or concerned about your self restraint.

“It’s very different in our culture. We marry for love, most of the time at least”, you finally said. And if he hadn’t been staring at you already Wolffe would never have noticed the way your eyes flitted over to him when you said “love”.

Several of the Gonchee opened their mouth to argue, but lucky for the entire 104th a few women carrying trays with various foods and drinks appeared and rendered the men silent.

-------

Shortly after a near silent meal your Master stood up.

“I suppose it would be best for us to call it a night. We will have to be up early tomorrow if we want to reach out ship again before nightfall.”

The Gonchee leader stood up as well and slightly bowed his head before the Jedi.

“Very well. We have prepared our assembly hut for you, I will show you the way.” He stopped for a moment and looked over to where you were still sitting between Wolffe and Sinker. “Though I know you follow different customs, we Gonchee do not allow women to sleep in a room with people they’re not related or married to, which is why we have also prepared an empty hut for the Commander and his wife. And I suppose they will need privacy so she can perform her marital duties. My son will show them the way”

You were quite certain that at one point throughout the day your own rank as Commander had been mentioned, but even though you really wanted to correct the old Gonchee, you were tired of dealing with them all day and decided against it. Though the same could not be said for the Wolfpack. Several of them, including Wolffe and Sinker next to you as well as Boost next to Sinker, spoke up to correct him.

A younger Gonchee, who you assumed was said son, stood up and looked at you with a twinkle in his eyes.

“Alright, Commanders”, he said. The ironic way in which he pronounced the word made Wolffe roll his eyes, which by now you could tell even if you weren’t looking at him. “Follow me.”

The two of you bid goodnight to the others and did as the Gonchee had said. The thought of probably having to share a bed with Wolffe crossed your mind for a moment, but it was gone as soon as it came. Though as soon as the son opened the door to a small hut, smaller than any you had seen before, it returned.

The ceiling was low, the room was small and the only pieces of furniture were a small bed and a single bedside table.

“It’s not much but it’ll do for the night”, the Gonchee said. Though the words were probably supposed to be apologetic, his tone was anything but.

Wolffe, bowing his head due to the low ceiling, stepped into the hut while you remained outside. That, however, proved to be a mistake just a moment later, because the Gonchee stepped closer, closer than you would have wanted, and looked up at you.

“You might rather spend the night in my room, it’s bigger and more comfortable and I could really use someone in my bed, especially a pretty human woman such as yourself.”

Due to his words and the way he eyed you, especially with your private parts almost in his eyeline because of his short height, you wanted nothing more than to punch him. Maybe kick him. Maybe cut off something of his with your lightsaber. And if it hadn’t been for Wolffe you would have, and ruined your mission within a split second.

But there was Wolffe, knight in plastoid armour protecting you from any rash decisions. He had left the hut and was now standing behind you, from where he put his arms around your middle and, you were sure, glared daggers at the Gonchee.

“I suggest you leave my wife alone”, he growled and tightened his grip on you even more.

You weren’t sure whether it was his words, the growl or his arms around you and your back to his chest, but something about his behaviour did something to you. Something that would make it a million times harder to share a room, share a bed, with him tonight. As if your crush on the Commander wasn’t already bad enough...

“I thought in your culture you love the one you marry and if you love this woman you wouldn’t want her to miss out on spending a night with a real man, would you?”

If the situation wasn’t so tense you would have laughed. A real man? He was covered in fur!

“Wolffe gives me everything I need and more. I wouldn’t leave him for any man in the entire galaxy.”

It was only when the words left your mouth that you realized just how true they were. You really had to get that under control, having a crush on your fellow Commander was bad enough, you would not allow yourself to actually fall in love with him. You couldn’t jeopardize your friendship, your future as a Jedi knight, everything and everyone you’ve ever known for a man who you knew thought of you as a friend.

The Gonchee looked you up and down one last time before glaring at Wolffe.

“Then I suppose I should bid the two of you good night.”

And without another word he turned around and left the two of you alone.

As soon as he was gone Wolffe let go of you and put some distance between you.

“You should lie down, you must be tired after dealing with those idiots all day.”

His words made you turn around to face him. Once again you just couldn’t read him. One moment he made your heart beat faster by actually acting like your husband and the next he pretended like you were nothing more than acquaintances. But for once you grew tired of this behaviour and refused to oblige, instead you stepped closer to him again and put a hand on one of the arm he had crossed across his chest.

“I’m sure you’re just as tired, if not more. Let’s both go to bed.”

He raised one eyebrow, but other than that he didn’t make a move to break contact with you again.

“There’s only one bed.”

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes, a gesture you had often copied from Wolffe himself.

“I know that. But we’re old enough and trust each other enough to sleep in the same bed for one night”, you argued. You didn’t know what made you do it, but you couldn’t resist the urge to lean even closer, stand up on your tiptoes and whisper into his ear. “You’re my husband, after all. And husband and wife usually sleep in the same bed. And how else are you supposed to protect me from the Gonchee?”

You were too close to his ear to actually see his face, but you were sure he was smirking as he scoffed.

“I thought you were plenty capable of handling the Gonchee yourself, Commander.”

The way he said your title did something to you you’d rather not investigate any further. He was teasing, of course he was, but though two could play that game you were simply too tired.

“Just join me in bed when you’re ready. Otherwise you’ll have to sleep on the cold floor and I’ll have to explain to Master Plo why his Commander is sore all over tomorrow.” You could have left it at that, you should have, but you just had to add one more sentence. “And I can think of more pleasant ways to make you sore.”

As you left him standing and entered the hut you could hear a choked noise coming from him.

-------

“Finally decided to join me?”, you teased when Wolffe slipped underneath the cover.

Wolffe didn’t answer. He couldn’t think of an answer, couldn’t think at all. Not with you so close, laying beside him, trusting him to sleep next to you, to defend you if any of the Gonchee were to try something while you were in your most defenseless state.

“Wolffe”, you whispered after a moment of silence.

Now he had no choice but to answer.

“What is it?”, he grunted. And instantly regretted his gruff reply. This was his one chance to have you close, to forget that there was no way the two of you could ever be more than friends.

“Thank you, for today. And tonight. I’m glad you’re my ‘husband’.”

Wolffe wasn’t good with words, but in that moment he really had no idea what to say.

“It really showed us what we’re missing, didn’t it? The chance to be in love, to be married and not have to hide your feelings”, you continued.

For a second Wolffe’s heart stopped beating. Could you be talking about him not having to hide your feelings or was is just a general statement? Or did you maybe mean that you... No, that was impossible.

“Anyways, we should get some sleep now, we have an early start tomorrow”, you concluded.

From then on it only took a few seconds for your breathing to even out and just was Wolffe was about to sigh in relief that he no longer had to pretend that being near you wasn’t affecting him, you rolled over from your back onto your side and were now pressed up against Wolffe.

It wasn’t just his heart that stopped now, his breathing did as well. How could he move even to take another breath with you so close, with your head resting underneath his chin, your legs intertwined with his and your arm lazily thrown over his torso.

“Damn it”, he mumbled, though he instantly came to regret having made a sound. Luckily you were still fast asleep, if anything you cuddled up even closer to Wolffe.

Slowly, more careful than he had ever been, he lifted his own arm to wrap it around your waist and pull you even closer. He let out a content sigh, breathing in the scent of your shampoo in the process.

Wolffe knew for a fact that he wouldn’t get any sleep that night. This was his one chance to share a bed with you, and even though he would have loved to fall asleep and wake up next to you, he preferred cherishing every second of the night.

-------

The next morning you were woken up not by the sun shining directly in your face, nor Wolffe’s sort snoring or the birds chirping outside, but by the unfamiliar voices speaking in what you recognized as the language of the Gonchee.

You decided that it might be best to pretend to still be asleep, which is why you moved even closer to Wolffe and buried your head underneath his chin. In turn he pulled you closer to him, which made you realize that he had had one arm around you the entire time. You were almost too distracted by the warm and comforting presence of Wolffe next to you and the safety his arm around your waist guaranteed to notice that his breathing changed as he slowly woke up. Though like you Wolffe must have decided not to make it known that he was awake, it was only the more uneven breaths and the stiffening of his body that made it obvious.

“Might I ask why you have invaded my commanders’ privacy?”, a familiar voice cut through the Gonchees’ conversation. And though you knew that it was safe to ‘wake up’ not that Plo Koon was here, both you and Wolffe still pretended to be fast asleep. Which had nothing to do with the fact that you simply didn’t want to face a reality where you weren’t cuddling in bed with Wolffe, nothing at all.

“We... I....”, one of the Gonchee stammered.

“We were here to wake them up”, another voice, who you recognized as the leader’s son, tried to explain.

You both heard and sensed you master coming closer, and though part of you was worried what he may say, or worse think, about the position you and Wolffe were in, the bigger part was comforted by the fact that the Gonchee were either afraid enough or had enough respect for the Jedi to hurry out of the hut within seconds.

“I know you’re awake.” Your Plo’s voice sounded amused rather than mad, though to be fair, in all your years of being his Padawan you had only seen him angry a handful of times, and almost never at you.

It took a lot of self-restraint to fight the urge to cuddle closer to Wolffe for one last second before opening your eyes, but you managed. In moments like these you really wished Plo wouldn’t have to wear a mask, it would make it worlds easier to guess his feelings if you could just see his face.

“I take it the two of you slept well?”, he asked. “The Gonchee certainly seemed to think so.”

You didn’t know what to say. Was there anything you could say without letting either Wolffe or Plo Koon know just how well you slept with your fellow commander by your side? How much you never wanted to go to sleep without him in your arms again and how much you already missed him, now that he was just a few centimeters away?

“Did you understand them, sir?”, Wolffe asked. It didn’t escape your notice that he didn’t answer the question either, though that could simply be due to the fact that Wolffe despised small talk, even with the man who was like a father to him.

“I understood enough to know that they believe the two of you to be very much in love. As well as a few comments I’d rather not repeat, or think about ever again”, Plo replied. As he spoke his eyes shifted between you and Wolffe, though you tried your best not to meet his gaze. You knew that he could already tell more than enough about your emotions through your force connection, if he saw your face, saw the love and admiration that must be visible in your eyes, he would know just how much you cared for Wolffe.

“I’ll let you get ready then. Be outside in 10 minutes, we’re leaving in 20.” With those words Master Plo turned around, left the hut and left the two of you alone.

You looked over at Wolffe, who, same as you, was leaning against the wobbly headboard.

“For what it’s worth, I really did sleep well. Better than I had in a long time”, you said with a slight smile on your lips. Maybe this was overstepping a boundary, but right now you didn’t care.

All Wolffe, in a very characteristic yet disappointing, fashion did was nod before standing up and starting to put on the first pieces of his armour. Other than you, who had actually changed into a pyjama while Wolffe had still been outside the hut last night, he had slept in his blacks and didn’t really have to change, or rather undress.

You, however, did. At first you glanced around the hut, looking for some sort of privacy you knew you wouldn’t find. Then you considered your options: You could ask Wolffe to leave, or to simply turn around, while you would change and he’d do it with probably only an amused smile, or you could just change real quick while he was still busy with his armour. In the blink of an eye you decided on the second option, partly because Wolffe, as well as the other clones in the 104th, had seen you bloody and sweaty, with torn clothes and in various states of undress before, either in the medbay or when you had been in a particular hurry, but mostly you just didn’t want to send Wolffe away, not after having spent the night together.

It was only when you had already changed into your regular trousers and just put on your bra when you came to regret your decision.

“What the kriff do you think you’re doing?”, Wolffe asked, his tone mostly shocked, though there was an emotion in there you couldn’t quite decipher.

“What does it look like? I’m changing.”

You had previously had your back turned to Wolffe, but his question, or rather the way in which he asked, gave you the confidence boost needed to turn around and face him.

“Would you rather I went out in my pyjama?”

This trip really was proving to be most unusual, since Wolffe seemed to be speechless.

“Of course not”, he finally said, though his voice did sound a bit off. “But you could have asked me to leave.”

By now you really didn’t know where your confidence was coming from, but as if an autopilot you stepped closer to him, close enough to see the way his eyes, as well as his pupils, widened.

“Maybe I didn’t want you to leave.”

It was a bold statement, and maybe not entirely true, but it seemed to do the trick, since a smirk found its way to Wolffe’s lips. His eyes, previously focused on your eyes, flitted down to your chest for a moment before going back up again.

“Then what is it you wanted me to do?”, he asked. “What do you want?” A clear challenge to either back down or take a leap. A challenge you shouldn’t accept, but found yourself really wanting to.

“I want you to be here, with me. I want you to be with me wherever I go. I want you next to me in bed when I go to sleep at night and when I wake up the next morning. I want you to always look at me the way you’re doing right now. I want you to touch me and kiss me and make me yours. Maker, Wolffe, I want you!”

The words were out of your mouth without thinking. Just like that, you had voiced every thought running through your brain, made yourself vulnerable to Wolffe’s reaction, whatever it might be. Though you had never expected it to be an arm, already covered in plastoid, to wrap around your waist and a hand, warm and steady, on the back of your neck.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for you to say that”, he mumbled before crashing his lips against yours.

Though you didn’t have much experience, you knew that this was what a kiss was supposed to be. It was not a clashing of teeth, like your first kiss, nor hesitant and barely there, like your second, but a perfect mixture. Wolffe wasn’t rough, though there was just enough force to tell you that he could be if that’s what you wanted. His lips worked against yours as if they were made to, teeth softly grazing your bottom lip a few times before biting down. He nibbled on your lip, then caressed it with his tongue before giving the same treatment to your top lip. Some time during the kiss your hands had found their way into his hair, pulling it and pulling him closer at the same time, finally feeling the soft strands between your fingers and causing Wolffe to moan at the sensation. By the time his tongue made its way into your mouth you could have sworn that your legs were made of jelly, that you had moved on to whatever came after this life, that this was a dream.

Even when Wolffe pulled away to catch his breath you didn’t dare to open your eyes, afraid of the reality you would find if you did.

You heard Wolffe’s low chuckle before his lips were on you again. This time he gently kissed your cheeks, the corners of your lips, before making his way down. He spread small bites on your jaw and then followed his teeth with his tongue, soothing the slight sting. Though it was a spot high up on your neck, just beneath your jaw, that finally got a reaction from you. You tightened your grip on his hair as his lips ghosted over the spot and moaned when they pressed harder.

“So needy”, Wolffe chuckled.

All you did to reply was pull his head up again for another kiss, one that was faster and more heated than the last. Though as soon as you pulled away his lips found their way to the same spot again. He began to suck while at the same time pulling you back to the bed. You wondered how he had enough sense to sit down and pull you into his lap, all your thinking had abandoned you the moment his lips first met yours.

“Wolffe, I - kriff, stop -”, you panted.

As soon as you said the word he pulled away, though his hands still had a grip on you, it loosened and he looked at you with nothing but love and lust in his eyes.

“What is it, mesh’la?”

For a moment you leaned your forehead against his shoulder before straightening up again and looking at him.

“As much as I’d love for you to leave hickeys all over, we both know that you can’t. No one can know this ever happened”, you told him, making sure to put just enough authority in your voice to make him take you seriously.

A sly grin was on his lips as soon as the words left your mouth.

“I know, cyare”, he reassured you. He leaned closer again, though this time his lips didn’t move to your neck, but to your ear. “But later I’ll mark you in places where no one but me will see.”

The thought alone send shivers down your spine and heat to your core, but it also placed a smile on your face.

“Looking forward to it”, you said and placed a quick peck on his lips. Though you should have known that Wolffe wouldn’t leave it at that. He pulled you closer once again, the hand on your waist now moving upwards and to the front until it cupped your breast. Gently, in stark contrast to the way he bit down on your lip, he squeezed and massaged in before moving on to the other one.

Another moan escaped your lips, this one even louder.

“Careful, we don’t want anyone to hear you, do we?”

You were about to nod in agreement when an idea popped into your head.

“I bet hearing me would make the Gonchee really believe that we’re married.”

Wolffe chuckled as he once again moved his hands to your waist.

“I think they already believe us, cyare.”

-------

It had taken the two of you a while to finally separate and make yourselves look presentable, and only when you heard Sinker calling for the last men to hurry up did you finally leave the hut.

Now, on your way back to the ship, the two of you were finally together again after you had talked to Plo Koon and Wolffe to the other clones for a while.

“You know, I’m really glad it was you I was fake married to”, you confessed in a whisper.

Wolffe’s hand brushed against yours for a second while he chuckled.

“You know, maybe one day we can scratch the ‘fake’.”

He saw the surprise in your eyes as you looked up to him. Truth be told, he hadn’t meant to say that in that moment, but he knew he wanted it to be true. Some day, when the war was over, if you would still want him by your side by then.

“I’d like that. I’d like that very much”, you said with a smile. “But first, I think there’s something else we need to do, once we have some time and privacy.”

Wolffe knew exactly what you were talking about, and though he couldn’t wait to feel you, to hear you and touch you again, he also couldn’t wait for the day he would get to call you his wife for real. Maybe, after such a long time of denying his feelings and then refusing to act on them, this trip to the Gonchee village and pretending to be married had been good for something after all.

I tried to put a little bit of everything (and by ‘everything’ I mean some of my favourite tropes) into this story, I hope you enjoyed it.

As always, feedback is greatly appreciated. <3

#wolffe x reader #commander wolffe x reader #wolffe x you #commander wolffe x you #wolffe x y/n #commander wolffe x y/n #commander wolffe imagine #wolffe imagine

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princeblack · 8 months ago

Text

she asks him if he misses his life and he frowns, thinking about the last day before he died. it feels foggy, like there was indeed a century between then and now, even though that shouldn’t make sense because he was dead and it was more like being asleep or dreaming than anything else.

but he remembers his older brother, sirius, and all of their squabbles. his brother angered him sometimes, but they loved each other and all of his fondest memories as a young boy involved him. regulus loved sirius more than his parents, if he was honest. there were many things he didn’t love about his mother, from her nasty spirit to how controlling she was, pushing him into her religion and trying to orchestrate every detail of his life, from his future to his romantic prospects. his father wasn’t much better, but at least he was a bit gentler, sometimes speaking to regulus like he was a human or a son and not property.

even still, the answer is yes because he does miss it. he misses the smell of freshly cut grass on their sprawling lawn every morning, or how the keys of the family piano felt beneath his fingertips. he misses servants tending to his every whim, making sure he looked his best when he was out on the town. he almost missed learning from his tutors, or shadowing his father when he was managing finances or meeting business partners. he was always supposed to take over eventually, even if part of him secretly wanted more. he still loved being the perfect son, even when it didn’t give him everything he longed for.

but maybe this is what he longed for– her. he always wanted to grow older and find his soulmate; the one he was going to have a family with. maybe that’s not even possible because of what he is now, but there’s only one way to find out. maybe salem would love him back eventually, or maybe he’s getting far too ahead of himself.

to answer her question he nods, green eyes flitting away for a moment as he thinks about all of the ways he doesn’t belong here. what if he never belongs here? what if he’s a stranger inconveniencing salem forever, sentenced to love her without his feelings ever being requited? but that doesn’t make sense, because surely the kind girl who cared for his grave would come to care for him too, even if it wasn’t in a romantic sense.

he tries to focus on her other words to distract himself, listening as she tries to explain something called movies and how they’re about people coming from the ground to eat other people. he shoots her a confused look, because while he assumes ‘movies’ are some form of entertainment, why would they center on cannibalism?

then again, people had always posited that witches ate people. he and his coven never did, but you couldn’t have convinced the christians in their time otherwise. he smiles at the thought of that; how salem has no idea how close she is, in that regard. he shakes his head to answer her question, because no, he isn’t hungry. maybe that should concern him, since presumably he’s never eaten in this new body before. but still the urge isn’t there yet, similar to the way it seems optional for him to breathe and his body is far too cold all the time.

she seems happy that he knows what she means about the dreams; he can hear the hopefulness in her tone. he nods, wanting her to know that he was there in the dreams too. she pushes further, asking if he could see her this entire time. he’s not exactly sure about what moments he didn’t see her; all he can recall are moments he did. so he hesitates at first, but then nods again.

he looks thoughtful at her words about his voice, hoping she’s right and it does return. what if this was all part of the spell being messed up and it was irreversible because the Horned One didn’t take him back and return his powers? regardless, it isn’t doing him any good to dwell on it so he tries to push down the worries, instead focusing on how the rag feels moving against his chest as she scrubs him.

he notices the way she gazes back at him, her sweet smile making his heart flutter all over again. the tension seems to hang between them, some unspoken energy that makes him want to ignore everything he was ever taught and kiss her soft looking lips. but he doesn’t, instead just studying them along with the rest of her perfect face.

she scrubs his arms and even his back, getting every fleck of dirt as if she truly cares about making sure he’s spotless and clean again. she did the same with his gravestone once, but this feels even better than that; even more personal. especially because she’s blushing when she asks him if she can touch him lower to clean him.

it makes him blush too, warmth spreading through him at even the thought of her hand near his cock. before today, he never would’ve imagined even holding hands out of wedlock, but now he’s half-dead and in salem’s bathtub, feeling himself flush head to toe because she asked if she can touch him there.

he finds it ironic she clarified it wouldn’t be in a creepy way, as if it could ever be creepy to him when it’s only desirable. he can feel himself getting hard already, shifting in the tub to lean towards her. he nods eagerly, because he wants her to clean him there, even if it means nothing else to her but that. reaching out, he takes her by the wrist, tugging her hand downward until it’s brushing against his cock. meeting her blue eyes, he looks at her with thinly veiled desire, the need burning in his gaze.

ever since her aunt died she felt this sense of dread and loneliness, nobody in the world understood her to the point that the world just might as well forget about her all together. there were many times where she didn't just wish she were with regulus in the sense of getting to physically know him but also, sometimes wishing she were gone all together laid to rest in a forgotten cemetery where she wouldn't have to wake up in the morning knowing she would have to face her awful parents, or be the daughter of a killer, or just the freaky girl with freaky interests who the only time she got attention was from some jerk at a party.

but with regulus sitting in her bathroom while she talks his ear off is the music fulfilling thing she's ever felt, he can't say anything but for some reason it's like he understands completely, like someone actually cares about what she has to say, making her laugh without even trying. her blue eyes flickering into his as she watches him nod with a smile, imagining what he would've been like back then, probably all prim and proper and having one of those cute accents they did in movies. "do you miss it? your old life I mean...your family." it's a stupid question of course he does, this world isn't his own, he doesn't have family anymore. it makes her feel rather sad for him but also kind of sad for her, because he wasn't truly part of her world. "you know this kind of thing doesn't happen...in fact there's movies about things like this happening but usually people that come out the ground like to eat the livings brains...you don't have any weird cravings do you?" she says mostly teasing, he probably has no clue what a movie is or what she's rambling about but for some reason he doesn't seem to think she's a freak just yet.

since she moved here the dreams were her closest connection to him, they were usually vague and mostly blurry after she woke up but she still remembers the way he looked, waking up from sleep just to doodle what she could remember, it's almost uncanny how close she had gotten but truth be told he was probably way more beautiful up close than he was in any drawing she drew of him. what surprises her even more that he nods at her words, giving her a knowing look like he understands her."you know?" she says in surprise. "you were there weren't you?" she says a bit hopeful, stranger things have happened, especially after tonight, if he can come back from the dead then certainly he would be able to somehow visit her dreams. we're they bonded because of the times she spent with him or even the necklace? "could you see me this entire time?"

how does something like this happen? he was no older than she was when he died, never living a full life the way he deserved but instead he was being forced to listen to some lonely teenage girl who wouldn't leave his grave just to rise from the dirt and now he's lost in this new life that wasn't his own. "well if it's possible that you're even here then it must be true for your voice too... we'll figure it out." she just needs to figure out how to figure it out, where do you even begin?

her eyes look into his own, smiling softly as he smiles back at her and she can see him looking at her lips again which makes her blush again, for a moment wondering what it would feel like to kiss him but he'd just come back to life, still covered in mud and having to adapt to her strange little world. she doesn't want to pressure him into anything just yet and so she continues to clean his body, scrubbing down his chest and his arms, the water getting darker the more dirt came off of him until he's completely pale again and all that's left...she's blushes a little as she tries not to look down, a shy smile pulling at her lips. "a-are you okay if I clean you off there too?" she says biting down on her bottom lip. "not in a creepy way or anything...I just know using your hands is kind of hard for you right now."

#Ⅰ. ⸻ / 𝑹.𝑨.𝑩. ( prose ) .#Ⅰ. ⸻ / 𝑹.𝑨.𝑩. ( 𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒕. salem ) .

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okayprocrastinator · 2 years ago

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rating the characters from shadow and bone based on how accurate they are to the books

*SPOILERS AHEAD*

alina starkov: A

it would be an A+ except she wasn’t sickly enough at the beginning. her transformation from sickly to healthy once she started using her magic was a big plot point of the books

her personality is perfect

diversity is great but it felt like they made her half-shu just so people could be racist to her. why?

mal oretsev: C

the main issue is his personality. he’s supposed to be flippant and charismatic in the beginning. like alina, he goes through a transformation, but in personality instead of appearance

in the show, he’s fairly stoic all the time. it was hard to believe he was universally liked

this is shallow, but he’s not attractive enough to catch the eye of a very hot grisha. they should have given him longer hair

kaz brekker: B-

i love the actor who got the role, and granted, he looks a lot like kaz’s description. but that’s where the similarities end in my opinion

he plays kaz too soft. granted, some of this is the writing. dirtyhands before six of crows would never tell inej openly that he needs her or ever admit to even the possibility of saints existing. nor would he let a target go willingly

basically the looks are immaculate but the vibe is off. they gave us mild con artist when we expected bastard of the barrel

inej ghafa: A+

appearance: perfect. personality: perfect. they couldn’t have picked a better inej if they’d tried.

her ghost-like presence, her ever-present kindly righteousness, her devotion and irritation with kaz - all the nuances of her character are there. the writers didn’t even have to spell any of her traits out because the acting was so good

jesper fahey: A+

quickly became my favorite character in the show. he stole the show every time he was onscreen and he’s the only actor so far who’s actually improved his character from the books

i loved jesper in the books, but his actor brought something to the role that i never imagined in my head when reading. that kind of charisma can’t be taught

basically the appearance is flawless. the personality flawless. the only reason i didn’t give him an S for his actor’s performance is because he’s a little more of a comedic relief in the show than in the books

nina zenik: A

her personality was amazing and exactly what i imagined when reading

her chemistry with matthias was off the charts and everything i’d ever hoped

the only reason she doesn’t get an A+ is that we were promised a fat nina and we got the abercrombie & fitch version of “plus-size.” perfect face-wise though

matthias helvar: A

exactly what i imagined in my head except for the short hair, which is supposed to be long and silky pre-six of crows. other than that he’s exactly right

his personality is definitely gruffer in the books. he acts a little gentler and softer in the show, but it really helps to sell the idea that he’s a good - but very misguided - person

he does become the version i recognize from the books at the end when nina sends him to jail so no points off for personality differences

#shadow and bone #six of crows #alina starkov #mal oretsev #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #jesper fahey #nina zenik #matthias helvar

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azul-marie · 3 years ago

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Hey! Can I request cozmez with an older sibling figure reader (they aren't blood related), who protects and cares for them, like makes them food, supports their music carrier and stuff? If you could make it gender neutral that would be lovely. Thank you :3

can I request cozmez headcanons with an older sibling like reader and how Kanata and Nayuta end up trusting and liking them enough to think of them as family? reader isn't blood related, they just constantly and patiently try to help the twins, I just want cozmez to be loved 😂😂😂 also sending big love to you, love your writing and can't wait to see more!

hello! thank you both for requesting! i hope you don’t mind i combined these two requests, seeing how similar they are. i’m glad there are plenty of others who wish to take care of these boys too, haha. please enjoy, and be safe. ❤️

note: gn. reader

genre: platonic/fluff.

characters: kanata, nayuta yatonokami.

kanata + nayuta:

it’s difficult to say when you became as an older sibling, much less a friend to them. kanata bared his teeth, nayuta glared his apprehension, each too prideful to admit your kindness was a treasure to them. they do not make it easy for you. it seems it is out of habit, given how often they spur other good-intentioned neighbors who try to care for them the way you do now. but their persistence to push you away is only matched by your own. you stay and support these stubborn boys no matter the snarls or insults, whether genuine or not, whether they cease or intensify. they do not understand why you do.

gifts of food are never denied. kanata answers the door, scoffs when he sees your smiling face, but does not brush you off when he notices the plates, containers, boxes of food you make for them. it is the easiest way to his heart.

homemade clothes are cherished. nayuta is softer than his brother, and thanks you quietly each time you visit. especially when thrifted clothes hang over your arms, shoulders, bags and boxes full of pieces you made just for him. his eyes light up, and not even his twin’s grumbles can put them out. they are these times he looks up at you and smiles, a kind that reminds you why you care for them so.

it takes time until you are invited into their home. even longer before you’re introduced to their daily lives, distant texts or minute calls to check up on one another. nayuta caves in first, having a heart much gentler, craving for company, who lets you in quietly. ever proud, kanata takes longer to accept you, even with nayuta’s clear approval. he knows not when he began to see you as a friend. or when he started looking up and forward to you and your visits.

the twins’ know your place at their performances even before they know you’re there. it was embarrassing at first, having someone so passionately enthused to cheer them on, but it keeps their spirits up and confident. you are there before and after, keeping them up and working on songs with soothing cups of green tea, and treating them to whatever cuisine they desire after a particularly tiring show. these most vulnerable moments bring you three together.

they do not know when you became a friend, much less a sibling presence. they’ve only ever had each other, but now there was you, but now there was three. it feels natural, this change. as if no matter their pride, it was meant to be that you loved them and they you, despite all the troubles in the beginning. you are a new addition to their bitter world. and as long as you stuck by their side, they knew better days lay ahead for them.

#cozmez #kanata yatonokami #nayuta yatonokami #paradox live headcanons #paralive headcanons #paradox live imagines #paralive imagines #paradox live #paralive #visty’s song!!! almost out!!!#just a little bit more haha #can’t wait!#also was no one going to tell me that anne made their own fashion brand??? what???? im in Awe #might go crazy and order one of everything they sell LMAO #so happy for them!!!! anne please free feel to have all of my money

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havenoffandoms · 3 years ago

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72 for Geralt/Jaskier?

I meant to post this a lot earlier... sorry about the wait, nonnie. I hope you like it anyway. I'm not sure how it came out in the end after I agonised over this for the past couple of days, but it was fun going back to my Geraskier roots.

Masterlist

Pairing: Geralt x Jaskier

Prompt 72: Character A has a secret. Character B does whatever they can to find out what it is. When they find out, they wish they hadn't.

Warnings: brief angsty episode, mention of Geralt's traumatic childhood

Also, I love that art! Holy Shit!? So of course this had to feature before the fic <3

Travelling with Jaskier had its downfalls.

For one, the bard talks a lot. He never stops, not even in his sleep, and that would drive any man insane if you ask Geralt. He listens to Jaskier waffling about poetry all day, every day, he doesn’t have to endure a lecture on the benefits of iambic pentameters when he’s trying to fall asleep, thank you very much. Jaskier also likes to complain about every little thing that causes him discomfort, which when they’re on the path, ranges from fly bites all the way to sore feet. Travelling with a human also means that they travel considerably slower, unless they’re both riding on top of Roach, but Geralt doesn’t like putting his best girl under that kind of strain very often.

For all of Jaskier’s flaws, Geralt would hate to have to separate from his bard. At least, when Jaskier is close by, Geralt can keep an eye on him and make sure Jaskier doesn’t get himself into any unnecessary trouble. Having Jaskier travel with him gives Geralt peace of mind. He appreciates the singing as well, even if he could stand to tell Jaskier this a bit more often. Geralt deems that his bard’s ego is plenty inflated without Geralt making it worse. Not to mention that life always seems a little bit brighter when Jaskier is around, and the nights are a little less lonely as Geralt gets to pull his bard close and fall asleep to the sound of his beating heart. Knowing that Jaskier is safe is the only thing that lets Geralt sleep peacefully at night.

You’d think that after nearly two decades of knowing his bard, Geralt would have figured out Jaskier’s secret by now. Geralt is, of course, referring to Jaskier’s near supernatural ability to always come up with coin when he and Geralt need it most urgently. Geralt has no idea how the bard does it - his songs are popular, granted, and on a good night Jaskier makes enough to buy a nice room for the night and the better pieces of meat from the kitchen. Still, being a bard doesn’t pay that well, not even if you were as famous as Jaskier. Just last week, Geralt’s horse and most of his belonging were stolen by bandits, leaving Geralt travelling on foot and too poor to afford to buy a new horse. Two days later, Jaskier came trotting up to their camp atop a gorgeous mare, looking mighty pleased with himself but refusing to tell Geralt how he managed to afford to pay for the horse.

“Would you believe me if I told you I stole her, Geralt, my dear?”

“Not in a million years,” Geralt admitted deadpan, pulling an offended squawk from his songbird.

“Just because I’m a bard you don’t think I can steal a horse?”

“I don’t think you could ever steal a horse because you’re as stealthy as the proverbial bull in the porcelain shop.”

It’s not just the horse, though. Geralt’s armour needed replacing and good armour doesn’’t come cheaply. Geralt doesn’t hire the services of just any blacksmith or armourer to craft his weapons and protective gear. He has his regular suppliers, the ones he always goes back to because he knows that their work is reliable and of the highest quality. And even though these people know Geralt by now, even offer him a friends and family discount on occasion, their wares still come at a hefty price. Geralt, as it turns out, didn’t have the coin to replace his armour for a few months. He desperately needed new boots, though. A new pair of breeches wouldn’t hurt either, and his silver sword broke in half whilst fighting a particularly vicious griffin a few weeks back.

Geralt didn’t even mention all of this to Jaskier. That didn’t stop the bard from going ahead and commissioning a brand new suit of armour, new silver and steel swords, as well as a few casual clothes for Geralt to wear on the warmer summer days. All of this must have cost an arm, a leg and a fucking lung, and yet Jaskier acted like he didn’t just break the bank all for Geralt’s benefit. He didn’t even get anything for himself and that realisation had Geralt feeling slightly embarrassed about the gesture.

“You don’t have to buy me all this stuff, Jask.”

“I know that, dearest,” Jaskier assured him, eyes soft and an easy smile playing on his lips, “but I wanted to. Only the best for you, my sweet witcher.”

The mystery of where Jaskier managed to find the coin to pay for all this remains unsolved, despite Geralt’s questioning. Well, if Jaskier won’t outright tell him, then Geralt will just have to investigate the matter by himself.

"Where the fuck did you get your hand on all the coin to pay for all this?" Geralt asks one evening, blunt and straight to the point. There was probably a kinder and gentler way to ask this, but after spending weeks mulling over Jaskier's sudden new-found fortune, Geralt has lost the little patience he possessed in the matter. Jaskier, on the other hand, looks perfectly unperturbed.

"From the bank," he offers simply as he sprinkles expensive herbs over the hare Geralt caught earlier that evening, "you know, where people deposit their valuables? I know you witchers don't believe in bank accounts, savings and interests, but-"

"Where does the coin come from?" Geralt interrupts, hissing those words through clenched teeth.

"Why, my inheritance."

Geralt stares for a long while. It takes his brain several seconds to catch up to what Jaskier is telling him, and another few seconds to make sense of the words. Inheritance?

"What inheritance?"

"Well, when my father passed away he left me and my siblings a share of his wealth. That's how inheritance works. Say, pass me my satchel my dear, I think I have some more spices in there."

Geralt wordlessly hands Jaskier his satchel, still trying to process this new discovery. Come to think of it, Geralt knows precious little about Jaskier's family. Sure, that's probably on him for never asking, but Geralt has grown so used to Jaskier oversharing every aspect of his life that he never needed to ask his bard anything. Jaskier just… never talked about his family. Or his childhood, or his upbringing. His life story seems to always begin when he was a student at Oxenfurt.

Geralt is growing curiouser by the minute.

"When did your father pass?"

"Oh? Uh… good question. Maybe a few years after I went to Oxenfurt? I'm not sure. I received a letter from the bank notifying me that a share of my father's wealth was deposited in my account."

Geralt frowns. "You never went back to find out what happened?"

"No."

Well, that's an oddly abrupt response, and Jaskier doesn't seem like he's got anything to say on the matter. Which only makes Geralt feel more curious about the whole thing.

"Why not?"

"Geralt…" Jaskier heaves a sigh before putting on a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, too tense to be genuine. "My father and I didn't get along. I felt no need to go mourn him with the rest of my noble family in Lettenhove when he passed. That's it. That's all there's to it. I was not a good enough man to refuse my share of the inheritance, either, despite my non-existent relationship with him."

That's a lot to unpack. Geralt always assumed that Jaskier had a good childhood. Then again, he would think that, wouldn't he, considering Geralt spent his own childhood being tortured by magnanimous and sadistic mages. Where most children got to spend time outside helping out in the fields or playing with their friends, Geralt was put through drill after drill, after drill… until he was physically unable to walk so much his muscles hurt.

"Wait… did you say your noble family?"

"Hm?"

"In Lettenhove… there's nothing in Lettenhove. Only the Viscount and his family live there on a large esta-" Geralt's mouth clicks shut as realisation dawns on him. "Your father was the Viscount of Lettenhove?"

"Yes. And since I'm the oldest, after he died that title passed onto me. But I much prefer being a bard, so I graciously devolved my duties to my younger brother, who now manages the estate. Are we done with this conversation?"

"I didn't mean to make you mad…"

Geralt watches Jaskier stop dead in his tracks, his shoulders briefly tensing at those words, before exhaling loudly through his nose. Jaskier anxiously rubs the back of his neck as he straightens up and offers Geralt a sheepish smile, that one warmer and softer than the previous one.

"Sorry, dear heart. I didn't mean to be so short with you. It's just… well, there's a reason I don't bring up my family all that much."

"Hm." Geralt gently taps the spot next to him on his bedroll, and Jaskier doesn't have to be told twice. Soon, Geralt has one arm wound tightly around Jaskier's shoulders. Not quite a hug, but the intention is there all the same, and Jaskier eagerly melts in the embrace. "I shouldn't have insisted. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologise. You did nothing wrong." Jaskier nuzzles the crook of Geralt's neck sweetly before depositing a featherlight kiss just over his pulse point. "Do you want to ask me anything?"

Geralt ponders over that question far too long before whispering an answer in the air pocket between them.

"Did he hurt you?"

Jaskier hesitates.

"Not physically, no. He didn't approve of my aspirations and choices. He didn't support me. I suppose it hurt a little when he didn't see me away to Oxenfurt at the age of 15, but he never raised a hand on me."

"Hm." Good, Geralt thinks. No child should ever have to suffer at the hand of an adult. Geralt earned plenty a beating at Kaer Morhen, some justified and others not so much. Just because he went through this doesn't mean he condones it.

"At least I get to spend his money on someone I love," Jaskier offers softly, eyes as blue as the deepest ocean glancing up at Geralt through dark lashes, “That, at least, the old man can’t take away from me.”

A happy little rumble bubbles up Geralt's chest, despite the blush gracing his cheeks.

"I never thanked you for the gifts." Geralt blushes a deeper shade of red at the realisation. "Sorry. It's been a long year."

"Well, good thing we're heading North soon then, hm?" Jaskier straightens up so he can cradle Geralt's face in his lute-calloused hands. Their eyes meet then, amber seeking out blue, and Geralt thinks that he must be the luckiest son of a bitch in all the Continent.

"Yes," he agrees in a whisper, tilting his face to place a kiss on the inside of Jaskier's wrist, "good thing, indeed."

Request a prompt

#havenwrites #the witcher #wiedzmin #geralt of rivia #geralt z rivii #the witcher geralt #geralt #jaskier #julian alfred pankratz #dandelion #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #geralt/jaskier #jaskier/geralt #dandelion x geralt #geralt/dandelion #request open

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