#it turned out way angstier than i intended | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

alwaysonthemend · 3 months

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Read Part I Here

Author's Note: The long awaited Part 2! Thanks to all those who sent asks about it - ya'll helped keep me motivated🤍 This turned out a lil' angstier than I had initially intended but it all works out in the end 😌

All I have left to add is justice for Jake's curly hair and for Waited All Your Life (it'll make sense once you read it)

Content Warnings: Jake x Fem!reader / Jake x Fem!OC (Lindsey) / Mature content / 18+ Only / angst / adult themes / unrequited love / feelings of inadequacy / miscommunication / break ups / graphic descriptions of sex / oral sex / fingering / I'm going to go ahead and tag this with emotional cheating as well because Jake is definitely emotionally cheating on Lindsey (emotional cheating is still cheating so it gets a warning)

Word Count: 9k (I don't wanna talk abt it)

My Taglist

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

March, 2023 – Nashville International Airport – Y/n’s POV

The coffee you had downed earlier that morning does nothing to stop the way your eyelids fight to stay closed every time you blink. The airport isn’t too busy yet – a small victory, thanks to the early hour. You walk slowly, eyes focused up at the signs as you wheel your carry-on behind you.

There! You think to yourself, finally catching sight of C3. Exhaustedly, you dump your things on the floor next to a row of seats and you collapse heavily into one. You glance around again, then look over your shoulder. So far, it seems you’re the first to arrive.

Anxiety thrums through you, making your palms feel cold and clammy and the back of your neck feeling hot. You’re struck with the sudden desire to just turn tail and run for the hills. But unfortunately you can’t. Just like you couldn’t quit your job at your agency with such short notice. You’d told him you were done – that you were leaving and you’d fully intended to do so. But your boss hadn’t exactly been understanding when you told her you wanted to be transferred somewhere else. You can still hear her shocked voice through the phone, completely shattering any hopes you’d had of being able to escape this shit show with at least a little bit of dignity left.

So here you sit, waiting.

And of course, since the universe is intent on making your life as miserable as possible, he is the next person to arrive.

“Y/n.” Jake’s voice is the same as ever – but this time still just a little bit rough since it’s so early. “I… I thought you said-”

“My notice has been put in.” You interrupt him, wringing your hands together where they sit in your lap. “They just couldn’t find someone to fill in for me at such short notice.”

Jake’s eyes widen just a little at the sharpness of your tone. You wince internally but keep your face deliberately neutral. It’s not his fault, you remind yourself. How could he have known that I love him?

“Oh.” He answers, shuffling his feet a little and glancing down at the ground.

It’s silent for long enough that you almost start talking about the weather or the traffic but you refrain. You’re both going to have to get over this eventually if you’re going to be expected to work together for this last leg of the tour.

“May I sit?” He asks at last, gesturing to one of the seats next to yours after standing there awkwardly with his suitcase in one hand and his backpack slung over his shoulder in a way that can’t be comfortable.

“Sure.”

Jake sits and you bite your tongue. There’s so much you want to say – so much that you wish you had said, but the middle of an airport terminal at 6 in the morning isn’t exactly the place for it.

The silence is worse than the talking but you don’t want to be the one to break it. Just a few months and then I can forget he ever existed, you think – deliberately ignoring the fact that you know you could never forget what it feels like to be in love with Jake Kiskza. Even when he doesn’t love you back.

“How was the ride here?” He asks haltingly, lips instantly turning down in a wince at the stupid question. But at least it’s not silent anymore.

“Boring. Not much traffic, thankfully.” So much for not talking about the traffic.

Jake nods once, chewing on his bottom lip for a moment before answering.

“Same. Perks of an early flight. Beat the rush.”

You’re pretty sure this is the most excruciating thing you’ve ever had to experience and you can’t help but look around in a desperate hope that someone else has arrived to end this torture. No such luck.

“Right.” You answer him, pulling your phone out to check the time. It’s an hour to boarding and surely one of the others will be here soon.

Of course I’m the only tech who also lives in Nashville, you think bitterly, wishing that anyone other than a Kiszka or Wagner were here in order to rescue you. Jake looks just as uncomfortable as you do. He keeps shifting in his seat and fixing his hair when it doesn’t need to be fixed.

After a long moment of tense, uncomfortable silence, Jake opens his mouth – clearly about to say something that you don’t really want to hear, when a loud “Good morning, fellow travelers!” interrupts him.

Sam’s voice makes you jump and Jake’s mouth snaps shut. You whip around to see Sam – looking far too energetic for this early in the morning.

“Morning, Samuel.” Jake grumbles, looking not at all happy at his untimely interruption but you couldn’t be more grateful.

Sam, always good at being entirely unaware, plops himself down in the seat on the other side of you and leans on his knees to look past you and over at Jake.

“Glad to see you’re still a grumpy bastard in the morning.” Sam then looks at you. “And Y/n, it's always nice to see your bright, shining face this early.”

You don’t feel particularly bright or shiny but you smile at Sam despite the anxiety coursing through your veins.

“Morning, Sam. Glad to have the life of the party present at last.”

It doesn’t take long for Daniel to arrive next, a little less cheery and energetic as Sam but still in a great mood. You know they’re happy to be going back on the road. You would be too if… if things hadn’t happened the way they did.

The terminal fills and fills until finally passengers are allowed to board. You rise, grabbing your suitcase and you toss your empty coffee cup into the trash. Jake rises too, immediately grabbing his things and following you.

“Y.n…” He starts, fumbling in his pocket to pull out his boarding pass. “Can- can I sit next to you? I’m sure Josh wouldn’t mind if he and I switched.”

You pause. You really don’t know if this is the place for whatever conversation Jake is going to force you to have. You would much rather sit next to Josh, just as had been originally planned, but you can’t help the way Jake’s sincere, chocolate eyes make you melt.

“I mean, if you want to I guess you-”

Once again, the two of you are interrupted by a loud voice, this time coming from Josh as he practically sprints across the terminal.

“Made it!” He exclaims, making Sam roll his eyes and Daniel laugh a little.

“Always the dramatic entrance, Josh.” Danny mutters before walking up and scanning his boarding pass.

“Josh.” Jake nods at his twin, looking as if he’d like to throttle the man.

“Jake.” He answers and then smiles at you. “Y/n! Good morning!”

“Morning, Josh.” He instantly puts your nerves to rest a little, making that knot of anxiety loosen just enough for you to feel a little less miserable.

“No Lindsey?”

Your heart swoops down into your stomach as Jake widens his eyes a little at Josh’s question.

“Um.” He starts, swallowing thickly and darting his eyes towards you. “She’s uh.. She’s gonna meet us in Raleigh. I think she’s going to tag along until El Paso… Just depends on how much time she can get off from work.”

“Ah.” Josh shoves his phone into his pocket. “Gotcha. Well,” he glances at the dwindling line of people as they board the plane and then looks to you, “you ready, seat buddy?”

You glance at Jake and try to ignore the wounded look in his eyes. The stark reminder that not only does Jake not have feelings for you but that he’s also in a committed relationship to someone else… well. It’s enough to remind you why you asked Josh to get the seat next to yours in the first place.

“Of course!” You loop your free arm with Josh’s and give him and Jake the most convincing smile that you can muster. “Let's get this show on the road.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･

March 12, 2023 - Greenville, SC

It had been entirely too easy for you to pretend as if Jake doesn’t exist – as if the two of you hadn’t been such good friends just months before. He’d taken the hint early on that you didn’t want to discuss whatever it was that he felt the two of you needed to discuss. You were mortified as it is that Lindsey knew the truth – and horrified by the knowledge that Jake knows how much you’d misread the situation with him. He’d been looking for a hookup and you were the unfortunate one who’d managed to catch feelings throughout it all. But so far, Jake has respected your wishes to keep your distance.

He’s never rude, treating you the same way he would treat any of the other tech people who he maybe didn’t know quite as well. And while the distance stings, you know it’s for the best. If the others had noticed the sudden change in your relationship, thankfully none of them had said anything to you – and hopefully not to Jake either. It really was as if none of it had ever happened and you definitely weren’t counting down the days until Lindsey’s supposed arrival.

You’d just spent the last 30 minutes doing Sam’s makeup – time which he’d spent cracking jokes and talking 90 to nothing the entire time. You’d just nodded along, smiling and adding commentary when you felt it was necessary. But really, you just enjoyed listening to him talk. He made you laugh – just like all the boys do, and talking with Sam had been a welcome distraction and way to fill your time since Josh’s partner had arrived… time that you once would have spent with Jake.

You bustle about in the makeup room, tidying things up and putting them in their places. You tuck each of the boys’ foundations in their designated bags, along with whatever eyeshadow palettes or rhinestones they prefer. Your brushes have been washed and now lay out to dry on a towel on the counter top. There’s nothing much left to do except pack away Josh’s ridiculous amount of hairstyling products and then you’ll be free to spend the rest of your time however you please.

The door opens but you don’t look up from your task of shoving hairspray bottles into your bag, fully expecting it to only be Josh or Danny coming back in for a last minute touch up. It’s only about an hour before they go on.

“Hey.”

You startle, whipping around at the sound of his voice. Jake stands in the doorway, waiting just on the threshold as if not daring to enter fully until you invite him to do so.

“Hi.” Your voice comes out surprisingly steady despite the way your heart is racing. This is the first time that you’ve been alone with him. “Something I can do for you?”

Jake nods, taking a single, hesitant step into the room and then stopping again.

“Just something small.” His eyes find yours in the mirror as you turn your back to him, trying to get your bearings a little bit. “Wanted to change my look up a little.”

You turn back around to face him and beckon him over to sit in your chair. Jake never does makeup – even before all this. Jake takes a seat and looks up at you, not saying a word.

“I’m guessing you don’t want rhinestones.” You say with a smile and Jake’s shoulders relax just a little.

“No. No rhinestones.” He affirms, clasping his hands in his lap. His words are soft yet deafening in the quiet of the room. Your heart races so fast you swear he must be able to hear it. “Maybe just some eyeliner? I’ve done it myself a few times but… I’m not as good at it as you are.”

You tilt your head and smile down at him.

“I should hope that I’m at least kinda good at it.” You grab an eyeliner pencil from Danny’s bag. “It is my job after all.”

Jake huffs a laugh but the sound quickly dies out as soon as you lower yourself to get closer to him. You haven’t seen him this close since… since that night in the bathroom. His eyes are like pools of hot cocoa as he watches you intently. Dark lashes, delicate, pink lips. His skin is smooth except for a light dusting of hair on his upper lip – only noticeable this close.

“Can you..?” You look down at his crossed legs and then back up at him.

“Oh. Yeah.” He spreads his legs so that you can step closer. “Sorry.”

You step between his thighs and lower yourself down. Keeping his head steady by holding his jaw with your free hand, you gently swipe the black eyeliner over his lash line. You tilt his head up and choose to ignore the way his eyes stay trained on you the whole time.

“Look up for me?” You ask softly and he obeys. You gently tug his eyelid down and swipe the black over his waterline as well before moving to do the same on the other side. You use the little brush on the other end of the pencil to blend the color out a little.

“Finished?” He asks as you step away, his eyes blinking rapidly for a moment as his eyes water a little.

You look at him for just a moment, trying to treat him just like any other client and not like the guy you’re hopelessly in love with who’s dating someone else.

“Almost.” You turn around and begin digging through Danny’s bag again, making a mental note that maybe you need to make one for Jake in case he decides that he likes the way he looks with this. You grab a tube of mascara and step back towards him. “Just a little bit of mascara.”

You swipe the mascara over his long lashes, making sure that they don’t clump and then you step back and admire the look. His eyes – deep set and thoughtful, look incredible in the eyeliner. It makes his features stand out just a little bit more and you know it will look great under the stage lights later tonight.

“Now I’m finished.”

Jake stands and takes a step towards the mirrors on the vanity. He tilts his head to the side as he admires himself in the reflection.

“I like it.” He says after a long moment, turning back to look at you. “Much better than when I do it.” He smiles a little. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

That tension that was present in the airport a few days ago is suddenly back with full force and you wish that the floor would open up and swallow you whole. Jake clearly feels it too and he reaches a hand up and runs his fingers through his hair. He drops his hand, the once brushed through strands now a little messy.

“Here, wait.” You don’t know why you do it – it’s like your body just gravitates towards his without you even thinking about it, but you take a step towards him. Placing a hand on his chest, you push him back towards the chair until he sits back down. “Let me fix your hair a little.”

Jake watches in silence as you grab a comb and some styling mousse. You brush through his hair, admiring how some of it reflects auburn in the light. You set it back to its natural part with the comb and then spread some of the mousse on your palms. You rake your hands through his hair, depositing the product and then twirling the ends around your fingers a little, helping the natural waves to form better. They go easily – as if rebelling against the way he must have straightened it earlier.

“You’ve got wavy hair.” The words slip out without you meaning them to and even you can hear the slight awe in your voice – as if him having wavy hair is some novel, incredible thing. Heat rushes to your cheeks but Jake doesn't acknowledge it.

“I think it could be curly if I really wanted it to be.” He answers softly. “Not like Josh’s but… it’s really wavy when I let it air dry on its own.”

“I-I like it.” You answer him, voice equally quiet. “It suits you.”

“Thank you.”

You realize suddenly just how close you’ve gotten to him. You straighten and step back and Jake pulls back as well – he’d been leaning in close to you.

“Guess you should probably head out there.”

Jake nods and rises, hearing the dismissal in your tone and the shift in your body language.

“Right. Yeah. I uh. I should go.” Jake slides his palms over his thighs, eyes darting towards the door and then back to you. He hesitates, as if about to say something but then thinking better of it. “Thanks again.”

“You're welcome.”

You watch him go, chest aching. There’s a feeling in the pit of your stomach – the feeling that you’ve just made a mistake. You don’t know if it was allowing yourself to relax around him again or letting him walk away.

You shake your head and continue tidying up.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･

March 20, 2023 - El Paso, TX

Lindsey’s arrival in Raleigh hadn’t been as humiliating as you’d been expecting it to be. In fact, since she spends all her time with Jake – who you’d already been basically avoiding at all costs, you hardly see her at all.

She’d only acknowledged your presence once that first day when she arrived. Just a nod and a terse smile, completely lacking the warmth and kindness from that first time you met and talked. You can’t blame her. She’d listened to you cry and hugged and comforted you – you, a virtual stranger, only to later find out that you’d been talking about her own boyfriend… it’s not exactly the best first impression you’ve ever made.

The El Paso show had gone on without a hitch – just as they usually do, and the boys had invited you and the rest of the tech and crew out for a meal, all expenses paid for. Ristorante Casanova was the place of choice; a little fancy for your tastes but the reviews had been great when you looked it up.

It had been Danny that had planned this – he’d reserved a section of the restaurant that was large enough for everyone to attend. He, Sam, and Josh (surprisingly on time) had been the ones to greet you. There were several other members of the crew already there as well and so you’d sat down at a table in the far corner where their stage manager – who you know pretty well, and some of the body guards had claimed.

Carter is the first to greet you - a sweet, older man who's in charge of security. He smiles widely at you as you take a seat next to him.

“Sunflower! Glad you joined us.”

Carter instantly brings you into the conversation, not allowing you to feel left out for one second. Everyone at your table is kind and fun to be around and they’re a welcome distraction. You hardly even notice when Jake and Lindsey arrive together arm and arm (and you don’t even notice the way Jake’s eyes keep straying to you from his table every chance he gets). Food and drink flows and conversation flows even better and everyone seems to be in good spirits. After you’ve eaten enough to feel like you need a nap, Josh stands and hits his spoon against his glass to get everyone’s attention.

“Hear ye, hear ye!” He says theatrically, eyes sparkling and cheeks rosy from alcohol as he looks around the room at everyone. His eyes linger on you and he winks, making you roll your eyes playfully. “I just wanted to give you all a thank you for making this shit show go so smoothly. At least, as smooth as it possibly could be with all the craziness.”

There are a few murmurs of agreement and light laughter from everyone at that.

“There have been far too many cancellations and reschedules,” Josh continues, his tongue clearly loosened even more than usual thanks to the wine that he’d been drinking, “and I just want you all to know how much we,” he gestures towards himself, Sam, Daniel, and Jake, “appreciate all the work that you guys have done! This Dreams and Gold circus wouldn’t be possible without each and every one of you.”

All of the crew smiles at that and you can’t help the warmth that swells in your chest for this band. Despite everything that’s happened, this has been one of the most wonderful experiences of your life. Not only is the crew full of incredible people, but the band is, too – most rock stars of their stature would never take the time or money to take their crew out for a dinner like this, let alone with a speech of gratitude on top of it all.

“So please, keep enjoying the food and the alcohol and be merry! You’ve all earned it.”

Josh finishes his speech and sits down, and everyone claps and whoops. One of the tech guys calls out a ‘We love you guys!’ to which everyone else shouts their agreement. The boys, all looking bashful but happy, call their love back out to them. Chatter starts up again, and you take the opportunity to slip away to the ladies' room.

After relieving yourself and washing your hands, you step back out into the little hallway outside the bathroom, smoothing your palms over your dress a little bit. You feel good. You’ve laughed more tonight than you have in days and everyone else is in a good mood, too.

You stop in your tracks when you look up to see Jake blocking you from the rest of the hallway.

“Jake.” You begin, thankful that for once, anxiety doesn’t shoot through you at the mere sight of him. You’re in far too good of a mood for that to happen now. “You okay?”

He’s got an odd look on his face as he stands there blocking your path but still your good mood lingers,

“I uh,” he clears his throat, “I don’t really know. I think I’m drunk.”

“Ah.” You walk a few paces forwards so that you can see him better in the dim light of the hallway. His cheeks are indeed flushed like they get when he’s had a little too much. “The men’s is right there.” You jerk your head towards the door for the men’s restroom and then start to push past him but he stops you, a hand darting out to grip your bicep. He doesn’t grab hard – light enough that you could easily pull away if you wanted to.

But you stay. Of course you stay.

“Wait.” His words are a little slurred and you wince a little. He’s clearly in a heightened emotional state right now and your mind races with ways to diffuse the situation.

“I think I made a mistake.” He continues on. “With you. We- we were good friends?” He phrases it as if it’s a question but you know the answer already and you know he does too. You two were great friends.

“We don’t have to go through this again.” You answer him, anger beginning to rise. Of course you couldn’t have just one night where you felt normal. And fuck him for making you feel like this. “You’ve already told me that that night was a mistake.Trust me, I’m well aware, Jake.”

It’s like being on an emotional roller coaster. The initial hope, then the crushing disappointment of unrequited feelings. Now it feels like everytime you start to get over things he appears to draw you back in. First in your makeup chair and now this… You’re entirely certain that if he would just leave you alone, if he would stop sending these cruel mixed signals, you know that this would be easier. You know you could finally move on from this.

Good mood completely soured with anger, you try to push past him again but this time he steps forward and backs you up into the wall, his hands grabbing your shoulders.

“No! That’s- that’s not what I meant, Sunflower.”

“Then what exactly do you mean, Jake?” He’s close enough now that you can smell the tequila on his breath. “Because I know how you feel about me. And I swear to god it’s starting to feel like you enjoy having me pining after you. Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

Jake’s head falls, his hair falling down to frame his face.

“I don’t know. I tried too. But you keep pulling me back.” He frowns down at you before adding quietly, “I’m sorry.”

You can’t bring yourself to say ‘it’s okay.’ All you can do is stare at him, feeling suddenly as if every sense has been overtaken by him. The heat of his body, the smell of him, the way his hands are on your shoulders to keep you pressed against the wall…

His eyes drop and for a split second you swear his gaze lingers on your lips before flicking back upwards. Your heart races, chest burning as you basically hold your breath.

“Sunflower, I-”

“What. The. Fuck?”

Jake rears back and away from you as if he’d been burned at the sound of Lindsey’s voice.

Panic washes over you as you take in Lindsey’s face – there’s anger, of course. But mostly hurt. Fuck, you know that you and Jake both look guilty even though you technically haven’t done anything.

“Lindsey!” You begin, stepping away from the wall, “God, it’s not what it looks like. I swear. I’m so sorr-”

“Save it.” She interrupts you, turning her icy gaze towards Jake who’s backed himself up into the opposite wall and is looking at her with wide eyes. “You’re not the one I’m pissed at.”

Jake looks on the verge of either crying or passing out and you feel a bit like you might do either one of those as well. You don’t know what to do as the three of you stand there in a stalemate.

The air feels oppressive and you wrack your brains for something, anything, to say that might make this better. You can’t think of a single, god damned thing.

“You guys okay?” It’s Carter’s voice that breaks the silence as he enters the hallway, his eyebrows raising at the sight that greets him. “Ya’ll have been gone for a while.” Carter’s dart between the three of you before settling on you. “Y/n?”

“We- it’s fine. We’re fine, Carter.” It’s a big fat lie but you don’t really know what else to say. “I was just about to head home, actually.”

You know it’s a cowardly thing to do – to just run away and not deal with whatever blow out is about to happen. But you can’t think of anything better to do.

“Oookay.” Carter doesn’t look convinced that everything is fine but he seems to sense that this isn’t something to stick his nose in. “I’ll walk you out.”

It’s not a question. All you can do is nod and numbly follow Carter out of the hallway. Jake follows you with pleading eyes but Lindsey doesn’t look at you until you’re all the way past her. Finally, she watches you go, giving you a curt nod with her lips pressed together. You would almost feel better if she was pissed and screaming at you instead.

You cross your arms over your chest tightly as Carter waits on the curb outside with you for your Uber to arrive. You haven’t said anything to him but you can tell he’s itching to ask what the hell he just walked in on.

“I’m guessin’ it’s complicated and I don’t wanna know?” He finally asks and you nod.

“Something like that, yeah.”

“Are you okay?” You hate the genuine concern in his voice. You don’t really feel like you deserve it.

“I will be.”

Carter kicks a rock and it goes skittering across the sidewalk.

“I’m not trying to stick my nose where it doesn’t belong but… whatever he did to hurt you,” he sighs a little, “I know you didn’t deserve it.”

Despite the millions of awful thoughts that are running through your mind, you smile just a little.

“Thank you.”

“And he’s a fool for not seeing what’s right in front of ‘im.”

To that, you have no idea what to say. So you don’t. The two of you wait in silence for your Uber, Carter’s body heat a comforting presence next to you.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･

March 26, 2023 - Reno, NV – Jake’s POV

The night at the restaurant has been haunting just about every waking moment since. And when you sleep, Y/n’s look of hurt and Lindsey’s face filled with disappointment and anger swirl around within your dreams and send you waking in a cold sweat.

You know this is all your fault. Y/n knows it. And fuck, now Lindsey knows it too.

She’d been so damned understanding that night when she’s asked about your relationship with Y/n. She’d nodded along as you told her about the drunken hook up in a bathroom. When you’d asked her if it upset her, she’d merely shrugged and said that she “can’t change the past.”

You’d told her you loved her that night and it had eased whatever worries she had… Now, you’re pretty sure that out of everything, that was the cruelest thing you ever did to her.

It had been like walking on eggshells since Ristorante Casanova. You’d explained to Lindsey over and over that nothing had actually happened that night and that you hadn’t been planning on anything happening… that you had just wanted to talk to Y/n. Begrudgingly, she’d accepted your words as truth and your countless apologies but deep down you both know that your relationship isn’t going to ever return to what it was. She’d stopped saying ‘I love you’ back.

You’d declined going out when Josh had asked the night before, claiming to be too tired after the show. It wasn’t a total lie. You were tired, but the show had nothing to do with it and everything to do with having Y/n’s body so close to yours again and the wounded looks Lindsey sends your way when she thinks you’re not looking. Lindsey hadn’t complained when you told her you wanted to stay in – in fact, she’d looked relieved. You’d both gone to bed without saying a word, the silence far more damning than anything else.

She’d been in the bathroom for almost an hour now. The water had been turned off a while ago but she’d yet to emerge. You sit on the edge of the bed, waiting for her – feeling a bit like a guilty man waiting at the gallows.

At last, after what feels like an eternity, the door to the bathroom opens and she emerges, washed and makeup freshly done. Your heart aches at how beautiful she looks – and at the fact that it doesn’t affect you the way it used to.

“I’ve got a flight back home today.” She offers, eyes looking anywhere but you as she crosses the room to where her suitcase lays. It’s almost completely packed save for the bag of toiletries she carries with her from the bathroom.

“I thought you were going to try to get more time off work so you could be at the last show?” You can’t help the hurt that bleeds into your tone even though you know you have no right to be feeling that way.

Lindsey levels you with a hard look. It’s not anger. Just resignation… somehow, that’s even worse.

“I think we both know why I’m not staying, Jake.”

You shake your head even though you know she’s right. But things had once been perfect between the two of you and there’s this voice in the back of your head that’s telling you it can’t end like this; that things could go back to the way they were. You really thought you could love her. She’s everything you’ve ever looked for… at least, she used to be.

“I loved you.” You say wretchedly, the words tasting bitter on your tongue. It’s a shitty thing to say as a last-ditch effort to try and fix something that shouldn’t be fixed.

“I loved you too” She tosses her toiletries bag into her suitcase and zips it up.

Her eyes close as she pauses for a brief moment and your hands itch to reach out and touch her – to comfort her. But you can’t. You lost that privilege.

“I did love you, Lindsey. I swear it. I just-” You cut yourself off, unable to put into words what changed.

“It doesn’t matter anymore, Jake.” She rounds the edge of the bed and comes to stand in front of you. You sit with your elbows on your knees, head down in defeat. Delicately, she reaches out and hooks her finger beneath your chin, forcing you to look at her – to see the hurt written all over her face. “I think we both deserve better than this. I deserve better than second place.”

“Yes. You do, Lindsey. I’m- I’m sorry.”

She steps away from you and goes back to her suitcase. She grabs her phone from the nightstand and walks towards the door of the hotel room. She looks back only once and your eyes meet.

“Don’t fuck it up with her, okay?” She tells you, eyes sparkling with just a little bit of warmth. She really did deserve better than this. Than you.

“I think I already did.”

“Then fix it.”

You're heart feels like it breaks into a million pieces as you watch her go – breaking with the guilt of realizing that you're not even upset.

But deep down, you know why you don't feel more.

It had taken you losing her completely for you to realize that Y/n was the one who holds your heart; Y/n's smile that can light up your world in a way that no one else's can.

You hadn't quite known it yet... that night at the bar. You didn't know how deep your feelings for her ran until you got to feel her wrapped around you, crying out your name and looking at you like you hung the stars. But of course you'd panicked – convinced yourself that she couldn't possibly feel the same. And then you'd let your insecurity speak for you and had hurt both you and her all the more as a result. And then hurt Lindsey too by going out with her. In your defense — if you could even call it that... You had convinced yourself that Y/n didn't feel the same and you were so sure that you could move on from her.

But then you'd learned the truth of Y/n's feelings – from Lindsey of all people, and your world had crumbled around you.

But you refuse to let it stay this way. Y/n... your sunflower... you won't let her go again.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*

March 26, 2023 - Reno, NV – Y/n’s POV

So far, Reno has been your least favorite place you’ve been to for this job. The air outside is dry as the Sahara desert and you’re pretty sure that no amount of chapstick could help how dry your lips feel right now. Reno feels as if it’s merely trying to be Las Vegas – just without all the neon lights, restaurants, and fun activities that makes the smell of cigarette smoke and foot traffic worth it.

Usually after a show, everyone likes to go out for dinner or drinks somewhere or you like to go exploring a new city. Neither is an option tonight as it seems that everyone is in agreement that Reno isn’t the type of place that they want to have to spend extra time in. And besides, it’s an early flight tomorrow and you have no desire to be up later than you have to tonight.

At least there’s good water pressure, you think to yourself as you emerge from the bathroom, a threadbare bathrobe that the hotel had provided wrapped tightly around your waist. You shove your toiletries into your suitcase – ready for the early departure in the morning, and then collapse heavily onto the bed. Just one more show left.

You’d been feeling much better this past day, feeling less like your emotions were running all over the place and a little bit more centered with yourself. Apparently, being completely and utterly fed up about something does wonders for taking steps towards letting it go.

A gentle knock on the door draws you from your thoughts, along with confusion about who on earth would be knocking at your hotel door – you look at the clock on the nightstand, at 11pm the night before a 7am flight.

You look through the peephole and your stomach drops at the sight of Jake standing outside your door, his hands in his pockets. You undo the lock and open the door just enough so that you can see him fully. He looks freshly showered, his hair still slightly damp at the ends and curling a little bit – just like he said it did that day in your makeup chair.

“Jake?” You ask hesitantly, still not opening the door fully. “What are you doing here?”

You can’t quite get a read on his face. He looks… surprisingly normal as he stands there outside your door.

“I was wondering if we could talk.” He answers.

“Now?” You can’t help the sharpness in your tone but Jake takes it in stride, merely ducking his head a little and giving you a crooked smile.

“I mean… yeah? I just wanted to be able to catch you when we won’t get interrupted.”

A thousand reasons why you should say no race through your mind, the number one of which being that he has a girlfriend who he should probably be with instead. But logic and Jake rarely share the same space in your mind so you open the door wider and allow him to come inside. The smell of his cologne hits you as he brushes past you and you’re assaulted with the mental image of a freshly showered Jake in his bathroom taking the time to put it on before coming to see you. You clear your throat and lock the door behind you.

Jake stands in the middle of the room, hands still in his pockets, and finally that neutral expression on his face has melted away to something else. Is he… nervous?

“Did you catch the show tonight?” He asks, eyes following your every move as you take a seat on the edge of your bed.

“I caught the tail end, yeah.”

“Did you like it?”

You sigh a little.

“I always like them.” And it’s the truth. He’s good at what he does. “But I don’t think you came here to my room this late to talk about the show.”

Jake nods, shuffling his feet a little and then biting his lip.

“I guess I came to apologize.”

A small, vindictive little part of you rejoices and you speak before your mind can catch up.

“There are a lot of things for you to apologize for. Which one are you talking about tonight?”

Jake winces and looks suitably chastised as he stands there before you. It doesn’t make you feel better like you thought it would to see him so unsure of himself.

“There are a lot of things.” He agrees quietly, “but it’s what I was trying to say that night at the restaurant.”

You can clearly remember his words from a few nights ago – I think I made a mistake. With you. You raise a brow, waiting for him to elaborate. You’re tired of playing the guessing game with him.

“It was a mistake to tell you that it meant nothing.” He continues on, eyes trained on the ground. “It was a mistake to call it a mistake. And I’ve spent every night since regretting what I said. And I regret that I didn’t see what I had until it was too late.”

Your mind goes completely blank as he speaks, brain unable or unwilling to decipher what he’s saying. You’re terrified of misreading this. Again.

“What- what are you saying, Jake?”

He smiles a little, more of a grimace than anything, but he finally meets your gaze with his own.

“I’m saying that- that I want you. For more than just sex, Sunflower. I want you.” He bites his lip, brows tipping downwards in a frown. “If- if you still want me, that is.”

“But Lindsey-” You begin, but he’s quick to cut you off.

“Me and Lindsey are over. She’s on a plane going home as we speak. She doesn’t-” he cuts himself off with a wince. “I don’t love her anymore. I’m not sure I ever did. We’re done, Y/n. We should have been done a long time ago.”

You both stand there in tense silence. You want to scream and cry and hit him for everything that he’s put you through. But you also want to laugh and kiss his stupid, beautiful face. Words have failed you. You’ve spent so long dreaming that he would one day say these things and how you would respond but now that it’s happening… you can’t think of one single thing to say to him.

“I think I just need some time to think.” You finally say to him. Jake doesn’t look surprised by it either.

“That’s- that’s fair.”

“Once we get to Sacramento, after the show… come and find me. I’ll have an answer by then.”

Jake nods and turns to leave, looking a bit like a kicked puppy but you don’t allow yourself to reach out to him. Not yet. He can wait – just like you had to do.

“And Jake?” He turns back around quickly, looking as if he’s trying not to look hopeful. “Thank you for telling me.”

His shoulders drop just a little but he nods and smiles.

“Of course.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･

March 28, 2023 - Sacramento, CA

Jake’s words play on repeat in your mind practically 24/7 in the days following his… his apology? Declaration ? You’re not entirely sure what to call it but by the night of the final show you’re pretty sure you have each word memorized.

Jake had given you space – time, just like you asked him for. And of course, your mind has tried to rationalize what he’d said a million different ways as you try to take them as anything other than what they came across as – a proclamation of wanting a relationship with you.

But surely that couldn’t be what he meant, right? He’d called that God-forsaken night in the bar bathroom a mistake from the moment it was over and he’d since been made more than aware of your feelings towards him thanks to your conversation with Lindsey that night back in Nashville.

I want you. For more than just sex. Those words have been haunting you, always in the back of your mind as you try to move about through your days like a normal person. There’s no way he meant anything other than wanting a relationship, right? What else could that possibly mean? He’d looked so unsure, so unlike himself as he’d stuttered out If you still want me, that is.

The words are still on replay in your mind as you move about your hotel room, anxiously packing and repacking everything that you own as you wait for Jake to come and find you after the show like you told him to. If he comes and finds you. The show ended hours ago and you know that there’s a big celebration going on – one that you’d been invited to but had chosen to stay home from. But it’s nearing 1AM… surely he’d prioritize coming to talk to you, right?

As if your thoughts have summoned him, there’s a knock on your hotel room door. This time, you don’t have to look through the peephole to know that Jake is waiting on the other side.

“Come on in.” You tell him, widening the door.

“Sunflower.” He breathes, eyes raking up your form for a moment before he steps into the room. “You answered.” He says it like he’s surprised.

“You came.” Is all you have to say in response and Jake nods.

You’d had this conversation with him at least a million times in your head by now and you’d had a solid idea of what you were going to say. But now, as you look at him with his sweet, chocolate eyes filled with hesitance and just a little bit of hope… it all flies out the window.

“Of course I still want you.”

Jake’s face softens in a way you’ve never seen it before and he smiles – small but genuine.

“You mean it?”

You nod. It feels a little anticlimactic as the words settle between the two of you and neither of you seem to know what to say. You tell him as much, earning yourself a small laugh.

“I don’t really know what to say now, either. But I do know that- that I would very much like to kiss you.”

It feels like the air in your lungs completely disappears as he says that. Unable to answer, you step forward and kiss him first. It’s soft– timid even. So unlike that first time in the bar all those months ago. He’s kissing you like he’s taking his time, memorizing how you taste and feel like he might never get to experience you again.

He walks you backwards until the backs of your thighs hit the bed and then his mouth trails down to your throat and butterflies erupt in your stomach.

“Let me do it right.” He murmurs into your skin, his hands exploring every inch of you. “Like I should have done from the start.”

It feels like your veins are full of liquid fire as his lips trail down your throat and to your collarbone.

“Do whatever you want, Jake.” Is all your brain can come up with to say.

He takes your clothes off slowly, as if savoring each inch of skin bit by bit as it's revealed to him. When at last you’re completely bare and his clothes join yours on the floor, he settles his weight fully between your legs and his palms spread out across your thighs, kneading the flesh and working his way up your sides, feeling every bit of you as if he’s trying to commit it to memory.

His fingers dig into the soft skin of your hips as you arch your back in a slow stretch. Jake’s eyes track every movement, every flicker and twitch of muscle beneath the skin as if truly seeing you for the very first time… as if he can’t believe it. His gaze lingers at last on your breasts, moving in tandem with your heavy breaths.

Then his gaze slides lower. Lower. And when at last it lingers at the apex of your thighs, and his eyes glaze over with lust, you say to him,

“Are you just going to sit there and stare?”

Jake’s lips part at the challenge, his breathing going shallow. Jake is tense above you, so tense you fear the muscles might snap. But his hands are gentle as they drift to your inner thighs, rough fingertips ghosting along the sensitive skin there.

With a stuttered breath he murmurs, “You are… so beautiful.”

You thread your fingers through his hair and use the grip to tug him upwards, instantly slotting your lips against his as soon as he’s in reach. You trace your tongue along the seam of his lips, fingers working to unbutton his pants. He groans into the kiss, tongue fighting desperately with yours. And, just to see what he’ll do, you palm him through his pants.

Jake cries out, mouth falling open, lips still just barely touching yours as he groans.

“You’re so hard.” You marvel, pressing down a bit more, feeling the heat and solidness of him beneath the fabric.

“All for you.” He manages to say, hips rocking forward to meet the feeling of your palm against him. “If you keep doing that this is gonna be over before we start.”

You exhale a laugh, removing your hand.

“You know what I regret the most?” He asks, moving his way back down your body. “From the last time?”

With a grin you answer, “Other than telling me it was a mistake afterwards?” He frowns a little in response to that, dark eyes staring up at you with a look in them that tells you that maybe it's a little too soon to joke about it. “Sorry.”

“No.” He shakes his head, hands splaying back out on your thighs and squeezing lightly. “I’m sorry.” His eyes drop back down to your dripping center. “And I regret not tasting this gorgeous pussy. Just so you know.”

The words set you on fire, starting at your toes and running all the way up to the top of your head. His grip on your thighs tighten and then his tongue is on you – flicking relentlessly. Your body arches into him helplessly as your mouth falls open with a loud moan. He grins into your heat at the sound and a moan of his own escapes him.

“Jesus.” You whine, your knees falling open even more.

“No. Just me.”

And God damn that voice. You didn't think it was possible for a voice to affect you like that but you're pretty sure that if it was possible you would want it to fuck you too. Deep and husky and smoother than whiskey.

This time, the vigor with which he attacks your aching pussy with his mouth should be illegal. He makes a show of it – shaking his head from side to side and growling deep in his chest. All you can do is lay there and feel it – body writhing beneath him as the heat in your belly begins to rise and rise.

You gasp as a rough fingertip prods your entrance, gathering your slick before slipping inside and curling deliciously, all the while he never lets up with his mouth.

“Come on,” he urges, his breath hot on your aching core, “wanna taste you. Let me taste you, princess.”

As if your body was merely waiting for his permission, the wave of white hot pleasure inside you hits its crest and you call out – a noise somewhere between animal and human that you might have been embarrassed about had you been more aware of yourself. And Jake just laps it up as your release spills into his mouth.

Jake doesn’t pull away from you until your orgasm is completely finished and you start to shiver in overstimulation. His lips – plump and swollen, are shiny with your release. Grinning, he moves up your body and kisses you, tongue slipping past your lips and allowing you to taste yourself on him. It’s the most erotic thing you’ve ever experienced. Those eyes of his drink you in as he pulls away and you feel as though you could get lost in them.

“What do you want?”

It takes your brain a moment to realize that he’s talking and a moment more to decipher what he’s just asked. But once it does, another wave of heat courses through your body and pools between your legs.

“I want you inside me.”

Jake groans in answer, as if your words alone give him the utmost pleasure.

“Whatever you want, princess.”

“Do you have-?”

Jake grins and nods his head, rising up from the bed. He steps over to the pile of his discarded clothes (giving you an incredible view of his exquisite ass) as he bends down to reach into a pocket of his pants.

“Would you think I’m an asshole if I said I came prepared?” He asks, turning around to face you again and raising a brow, the foil packet held aloft between his index and middle finger.

Your heart warms at the sight – Jake, confident and relaxed around you as he once was.

“Nah.” He steps back towards the bed, stopping there without climbing back in. “Just appreciative.” You tell him, but still he makes no move to get back in the bed, his eyes scanning over your naked form in a way that feels more like he’s looking through you. You almost want to cover yourself beneath his intense gaze. “What are you doing?”

“Just admiring the view.” He gives you a wolfish smirk and then climbs back into the bed, sitting himself on his knees between your thighs.

As he rips open the foil with his teeth, you take a moment to admire his cock – hard and red and just as beautiful as the rest of him, where it stands proudly against his stomach. He rolls the latex onto himself, biting his lip and groaning a little bit as he pumps himself a few times.

“You’re beautiful too, you know.” You murmur, glancing up at him. A pretty blush spreads across his face and down his chest and it makes you giggle. Even the tips of his ears turn pink. Jake Kiszka – rock god who plays on stage in front of thousands, is shy. “There’s no way that made you blush.”

Jake laughs and murmurs a playful “Hush” and then he’s sliding into you, silencing whatever retort you might have had. He plants his hands on either side of your body, face contorting in agonized pleasure.

The stretch of him is overwhelming and you grip his forearms, arching up into him.

“Hold on a sec.” You whisper and he does so without question, peeking down at you to make sure you’re okay. “Been a while.” You tell him with a blush of your own.

“That’s okay.” He answers, kissing you once – brief but sweet. “Just tell me when, princess.”

After a moment, you loosen your grip on his forearms and nod. He pushes into you fully, making both of you moan. He rocks his hips, still being gentle. His shoulders shake with the effort of holding himself back and that alone makes another rush of wetness rush down to your pussy.

“You feel like Heaven wrapped around me.” His words are rough, muffled by his clenched teeth.

“You can go harder, baby.”

Jake moans at that, upping his pace a little. It’s everything you’ve dreamed of and more to be with him like this – to have him panting and whining above you with each thrust of his hips.

He grips your hips in his rough hands, pulling you upwards.

“Legs around me, princess.” The words sound more like a plea and you’re quick to obey, your legs clamping down around his hips as he starts to move again.

“Oh, fuck!” At this angle, the velvety head of his cock brushes the spot inside of you that drives you wild and sends your muscles taut as a drum.

His pace is slow but his thrusts are powerful, driving into you in a way that makes you see stars.

“Shit.” His head drops down, his skin glistening with sweat in the warm light of the lamp. “I’m not gonna last like this, Sunflower.”

“I’m not either, Jake.” You manage to answer, your own words sounding far away.

“Been a while?” He jokes, referencing back to your words earlier.

“Partly.” You clench around him mercilessly, drawing a loud groan from him that makes you giggle at the power you have over him. “Mostly because it’s you.”

Jake’s body shudders and his cock throbs inside of you. He’s dangerously close but he’s desperate to get you there first. Your eyes roll back into your head when his thumb finds your swollen clit, rubbing in harsh circles in time to each thrust. Unable to hold on any longer, your orgasm crashes into you, stealing the breath from your lungs and sending your muscles twitching and contorting as he keeps fucking you through it. Not a moment later Jake cums with a rough cry, burying his face in your neck as you both ride out your pleasure together.

“Please stay.” You ask him and he nods against you.

“As long as you want me to.”

The sun shining through the blinds is what wakes you up. You reach out beside you, expecting to feel the warmth of Jake’s body heat next to you but you’re met with an empty bed. Did he leave? Brows furrowing, you sit up and look around and your worries are instantly silenced at the sight of Jake – in nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, standing in front of the mirror in the bathroom and running your comb through his hair. You rise from the bed and Jake looks over at you and smiles.

His skin is still flushed from the hot water of the shower and you have to fight to stop staring at the way his biceps flex as he brushes his hair and at the bead of water that trails down the middle of his stomach and disappears into the towel.

“Morning.” His morning voice is like whiskey and you blush just a little.

“Good morning.” As you reach the bathroom your eyes are drawn to a bottle of styling mousse that Jake must have gotten from your suitcase. He sees you looking at it and smiles shyly.

“I was going to ask you to help me style it.” He tells you with a tiny smile and your heart melts.

“Of course.” You step over to the counter and grab the bottle and just like you did last time, you spread the mousse onto your palms and then run it through his damp hair and then twirl it in sections. As you work – maybe taking a little bit more time than is really necessary, Jake starts to hum a tune under his breath. You’ve heard him whistle or hum it before. “What’s that song?”

“Not sure yet.” Jake shakes his head a little, careful to not mess up his hair as you work on it. “I’ve had the tune in my head for a while. Just haven’t been able to think up any lyrics that fit.”

When you’re finished, his hair falls in loose waves that frame his face. Jake leans down and places a sweet kiss on your lips.

“I could get used to this.” He murmurs, the words spoken against your lips as if he's unwilling to draw away for even a second.

“Me doing your hair?”

He shakes his head.

“Waking up with you.” You blush at his words, feeling like you might melt on the spot. “Is- is there any way you could still keep your job with us?” He asks hesitantly and shit you’d forgotten all about the fact that you’d put in your notice.

“I’m sure I could call and get things straightened out. There’s a chance they haven’t found anyone else yet.” You pray that you can stay. You'll beg on your hands and knees if you have to.

“Good.” Jake squeezes your arm once and then exits the bathroom, walking over to where his clothes from the night before still lay on the floor.

You watch him go, your heart feeling suddenly so full that it might burst. You and him still have many things to talk about – conversations that have to happen at some point. But right now? Nothing has ever felt easier than going about your morning routine with him. Jake turns to look over his shoulder at you, tilting his head.

“What?”

You just shake your head and laugh a little at yourself.

“Nothing. It’s just-” it sounds stupid to say out loud but you say it anyway. “Just feel like I’ve waited my whole life for this.”

His smile is like looking at the sun – bright and radiant. He abandons his clothes once again to come stand in front of you. He reaches out, his hands finding yours and interlocking your fingers together.

“You’re everything I’ve been looking for, Sunflower,” he tells you softly, “and I think I just got the perfect idea for some lyrics.”

Fin

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･

Tags: @jakeyt @demolitionndann @brujamagik @mybussyinchrist @writingcold @sinsofstardust @jjwasneverhere @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @wildbluesorbit @twistedmelodies @neverwanttofallasleep @sunandthemoontwinflames @clairesjointshurt @mindastreamofcolours @hellowgoodbye @gretasfallingsky @weightofkiszka @gvfmelbourne @smoking-jakelane @joshskittytickler @itsafullmoon @mackalah @sinarainbows @dannys-dream @lipstickitty @thewritingbeforesunrise @isabelgvf @sparrowofrhiannon @jakesguitarsolo @peaceloveunitygvf @kashmirclam @stardust-chordsss @gold-mines-melting @kenobicoffee @spark-my-nature @love-isnt-greed @jakeygvf21 @jaketlove @starcatcherjake @blacksoul-27 @i-love-gvf @vera-vestia @gvfpal @myleftsock @thetroublegetssoloud71 @anthemheatwave @josh-iamyour-mama @jazzyfigs @dannywagnerschoppedhair @its-interesting-van-kleep

#dee's writing #cloaked hearts #jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka angst

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saintmurd0ck · 2 years

Note

AND FOR MY NEXT TRICK:

off that soft prompts list - tracing your lover’s scars, but matt x reader x frank and not just reader doing it, but guiding matt’s hands over frank’s body and the reverse 🥺🥺🥺🥺

do with that what you will polygodmother 💗

be still and feel my beating heart

let's have a sleepover at mine!

pairing: frank castle x reader x matt murdock

a/n: thank you so much for this wonderful ask, kay my darling. this was so beautiful and so soft; i'm sorry it turned out way angstier than intended but... enjoy anyway. 🥺

song pairing: dear august (pj harding & noah cyrus)

The howling wind seems to quieten as your fingers dance across Frank's chest, smooth skin and hardened muscle giving way to a ringed scar that ebbs underneath your fingertips.

You loose a heavy breath. "If you ever had the chance to heal this completely, would you take it?" Would you heal the mark and bear it internally instead?

Frank stills, as if your very question prods red-hot into the centre of his soul.

Heat blooms across your face as remorse surges through your veins. "I don't mean–"

"No. Never."

Matt props himself up with an elbow, shoving the covers off in the process. "Because the scars keep them alive, preserve their memory."

Frank's eyes flutter shut as the pit in your stomach opens up, eddying with shame and bitterness. With the guilt of asking the question. Or the fact that you thought about it in the first place.

Your heart sinks a little further as Frank's hand rests against your own, pressing it flat against the mark. "I'm forgetting things," he says, voice lowered to a near-whisper. "I can't remember her laugh. Or the way" —his voice breaks— "the kids would run up to me after school."

The three of you are silent for a second, interrupted only by a gust of wind that brushes up against the vaulted windows. He circles the scar gently. "That's uh— that's not even because of them. Got that one in Kandahar."

Matt swallows, reaching over to clasp his hand over Frank's. And yours. "Doesn't matter where or how you got it, Frank. You bleed the same. You bleed for them."

"That's right," Frank mutters, nodding his head slowly; the movement barely discernible in the dark.

Matt leans into his touch, gripping the both of you tightly. "You fight for them every single day. That's all you can do, and you do it, over and over again, without a second thought. They're proud of you, Frank. Of this life you've created, of the way you honour them."

Frank inhales sharply as you squeeze him, holding him as close to you as humanly possible. "And what about you, Red?"

"My scars?"

"Yeah. D'ya think you'd erase 'em, if you could?"

Matt purses his lips, tilting his chin to the ceiling. He seems poised to answer the question, but you know the expression on his face. He's deep in thought, and it's more than likely he's sifting through the memories of every cicatrix he's ever worn.

"I don't know," he murmurs, chewing on his lip. "On one hand, I'd get less questions, but on the other..." You press a kiss to Frank's shoulder as your hand now settles on the plane of Matt's stomach, hoping your touch offers him some semblance of support. He breathes a quick 'thank you' before continuing. "On the other hand, they remind me the fight is real. That everything I've done has been worth it, in some way or another."

You run your fingers through his hair, sensing the words he's left unsaid. "There's more, isn't there, Matt?"

"Hm?"

"They're a living reminder of your pain."

Matt turns his head away, as if to shield himself from the truth. "Yeah. So maybe I deserve it."

Frank wastes no time in cupping Matt's jaw, bringing his head back to face in the right direction, grumbling his disagreement in the process. "S'bullshit, Red. Absolute bullshit if I've ever heard it."

"Glad you think so, Castle," Matt scoffs, every word clipped.

You swipe a thumb over Matt's cheek, trailing your fingers down the side of his neck, earning a shudder in response.

"C'mere, Frank," you mumble, guiding his touch towards the long scar on Matt's stomach; the one given to him by Nobu.

Matt stifles a groan as the callouses of Frank's fingers scrape gently over his skin, then again as Frank's lips trace the outlines of the twin marks adorning his chest.

Your next words come out mumbled, dispersed amongst kisses that flutter down Frank's back. "You, my darling Matthew, bleed for Hell's Kitchen. And God knows the city's safer for it, so let your scars be a reminder of all the good you’ve done."

“That’s right, Red,” Frank adds. “‘Sides, you got us now, and I don’t want your sad Catholic boy act. You’ve done good. Hell, better than I ever could.”

As the world around the three of you begins to fade away, intercepted only by Matt’s hushed argument-in-response, you think about it for a second: how it'd well and truly take a lifetime to kiss every single scar flecking their bodies.

You might as well start right now.

#matt murdock #daredevil #frank castle #the punisher #matt murdock x reader #frank castle x reader #matt murdock x frank castle x reader #matt murdock x reader x frank castle #frank castle smut #x reader #matt murdock smut #frank castle x reader x matt murdock #frank castle x matt murdock x reader #saintmurd0ck let's have a sleepover #rhi's mutuals 💗#rhi responds 💌#rhi writes 💻#frank castle angst #matt murdock angst

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ghostofskywalker · 9 months

Note

Hi! could you do "Do you need a hug?" with Jesse or Fives and a fem!reader for your winter ficlets, please?

hi! this went way angstier than i originally intended it to, i'm so sorry. i chose jesse, and i actually made myself cry while writing it

words: 1,087

summary: the more time you spent in the GAR, the more you came to know grief, especially when the casualties of the war were people you had grown close to. Jesse notices that you're struggling, and reaches out to help.

@clonexreaderbingo square: haunted

The Strength To Keep Going

clone troopers masterlist || request a winter ficlet

You had known when you signed up to work for the Grand Army of the Republic, that you would more than likely come to know men who would die in battle. And back when you were signing your name on that fateful piece of flimsi, you thought that you would be able to handle those types of situations with grace and poise.

You had been decidedly wrong about that assumption.

Grief was an ugly emotion, an unrelenting rain of melancholy punctured with swirling storms of rage, all tied together with a listlessness to rival that of the oldest tooka in the galaxy. And it had come to take up what felt like a permanent residence in your mind.

You didn’t want to do anything anymore, but you lived a life in which that was simply not possible. If you let go, even for a fleeting moment, too much could go wrong. Was it worth it to potentially doom the lives of those who marched on because you couldn’t pull your mind away from the faces of the fallen?

In the beginning, you suffered in silence. Tried to immortalize the names, mannerisms, and faces of the men that were lost in your mind, but soon you could feel some of those memories start to fade. You desperately hung on, cursing the greater powers (whatever they may be) for allowing such suffering to take hold in the galaxy. Every single one of these men had been your friends, and now you had to grapple with the reality that you would never see them again.

Sleep began to evade you more than usual, and you had taken to wandering the flagship during the night, nodding at the clones and other GAR workers that had chosen this shift, but you never really interacted with anyone else. Eyes bloodshot and gaze distant, you paced through the chilly halls with a blanket around your shoulders and anguish on your face.

It was one of these nights, where you had no destination in mind but walked the halls like you had some official purpose, and you hadn’t spoken to anyone in hours. Echo had been the latest casualty, and the news had felt like a vibroblade to the heart.

It had been a particularly rough loss, which was why you didn’t quite register that someone was speaking to you for a few moments. Finally, the voice that you had only been half aware of until now gave way to a gentle touch on your shoulder, and you turned to see who it was that had disturbed you.

Jesse was standing there, a concerned expression on his face. “Do you need a hug?” he asked softly. “You look like you haven’t slept in days.”

A whisper-quiet “yeah,” left your mouth, and before you knew it, you were being pulled into a sturdy embrace, the warmth of Jesse’s body seeping through both your blanket and the fabric of your GAR-issued sleepwear.

His hand reached out to find yours, and you allowed him to slowly lead you to a room a couple hallways away. Couches and chairs were the first thing you noticed, all mismatched and a little worse for wear. You had been to this lounge room a few times to grab something from the chiller, but you didn’t usually stay more than a moment or two.

“Why don’t you sit down there?” Jesse said as he gestured to one of the couches, and if you weren’t so Maker-damn tired you might have tried to argue. “What’s going on?”

“How do you keep going?” The question escaped your mouth in a voice that seemed almost accusatory, even though your intentions were far from it. But you couldn’t help it, you had spent too long watching everyone act like nothing was wrong, and you were dying to know where they stored their grief, because you knew it was somewhere.

You didn’t have to elaborate on your point, Jesse knew what you were asking, but you continued anyway. “Every day I witness more and more loss, and how does it not completely break you after a while?”

He sat down next to you, reaching out to take your hand. “I don’t know,” he said. “We’ve been told from the time we were cadets that we would likely die in service to the Republic, and I think a lot of us have internalized that by now.”

You didn’t know it was even possible, but your heart broke even more after you heard that. “Hey,” Jesse said, noticing the way tears were starting to well up in your eyes. “You’re not weak for struggling, and you have no idea how much it means to all of us that you care so much. But I know that my brothers, and especially Echo, would never want you to lose out on living because you were too wrapped up in mourning them.”

Well, that was it. The tears were coming now, whether you wanted them to or not. “I know,” you managed to breathe out, voice shaky. “But it still hurts.”

Jesse nodded, knowing that he couldn’t say anything to make your pain truly disappear, even though he wanted to. Instead, all he could do was move closer to you, gently shifting your blanket so that it was covering more of your body than it had been. Silently, you leaned into his touch, resting your head against his chest.

“General Skywalker told us about the Force one time,” Jesse said, and even though you weren’t quite sure what his point was, you listened aptly. “He said that when beings die, they become part of the world that surrounds us, and that the Jedi are able to draw some of their power from the love that those who came before us had for the galaxy.”

“Do you think he’s right?”

“Yeah,” he said. “So I guess it helps me to think about my brothers watching over the ship when I feel sad, and that they’re celebrating our victories with us. This way, no one is ever truly forgotten, you know?”

“No one is ever truly forgotten,” you repeated softly. You didn’t know if anything would ever be enough to truly lift this weight from your thoughts, but it certainly helped to shoulder some of the burden.

The two of you sat there in a comfortable silence for a little while longer, and Jesse didn’t bat an eye when you fell asleep against him. He wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, but he didn’t really mind.

- the end -

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c-e-d-dreamer · 1 year

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Does (s)He Make You Happy?

A/N: Happy Song Association Day of @nessianweek! This past year, on TikTok, I've discovered the band Tors and I've been obsessed with their harmonies and their music, and I'm in love with this particular song. This definitely came out angstier than I intended, but I hope everyone enjoys Rockstar Nesta :)

Read on AO3

“And when I turned back around, he was already almost halfway across the room. It was like a switch went off and suddenly he decided he could crawl now.”

The baby in Feyre’s lap lets out a giggle as though agreeing with the description of events, and Feyre leans forward to press a kiss to Nyx’s round cheek, bouncing him on her knees. The motion just has him giggling more, a wide grin pulling across his face and showing off the two teeth that have started to grow in on the bottom. He turns his head to blink up at Feyre, wide, blue eyes that match his mother’s.

“Just wait until he starts walking,” Nesta comments, taking another sip of her tea. “Then, you’ll really have your hands full.”

“Maybe… but then he’ll really be able to dance too. You know, he always bobs his head along whenever we put one of your songs on.” Feyre tickles Nyx’s belly, another round of giggles echoing off the walls of the sitting room while she coos, “you love Auntie Nesta’s music, don’t you?”

“Speaking of music,” Nesta begins, setting her tea back down on the low coffee table. “I do have to get going. Em, Gwyn, and I still need to rehearse a few more times before the show on Friday.”

“Of course,” Feyre agrees, standing up and settling Nyx on her hip. “Oh, I’m so excited for the show. It’s going to be so fun, and it will be nice to get out of the house for the night.”

“Already have a babysitter lined up?” Nesta asks, stepping out of the sitting room and winding her way down the hall toward the front door.

“More like finally have a babysitter lined up. Rhys is such a mother-hen. He must have combed through fifty different babysitter options before deciding one meets his standards.”

“Well, hopefully, you’ll both be able to relax at least for a few hours on Friday then. Thanks again for the tea.”

Nesta turns and offers her sister and nephew a final, soft smile before she tugs open the front door, but she freezes before she can step out of the house. Freezes when she sees the person blocking her path, fist already raised as if to knock.

He looks as good as the last time Nesta saw him. The late afternoon sun bounces off the dark strands of his hair, cutting shadows along his cheeks and jawline where the curls fall around his face. Those rays of sunlight bring out the golds of his hazel eyes, the swirling maze of greens and browns.

His eyes used to be one of Nesta’s favorite things about him. Even when they seemed to cut through her defenses like they were nothing, even when they seemed able to see her soul splayed out and on display in a way no one ever had, she could never help staring into those eyes. It was those eyes and that damned smile. The cocky smirk. The soft, almost private smile. The wide grin that was almost always followed by a deep rumble of laughter.

He’s not smiling now, though.

In fact, Cassian looks nothing short of bewildered, and Nesta can do nothing but watch his throat bob as he swallows hard, as his arm drops back down to his side. He has on his favored leather jacket, and Nesta knows all too well that if she were to run her fingers along the sleeve, it would be soft and worn beneath her touch. She knows that the scent of his cologne, of him, probably still clings to the collar. Pine and crackling embers and the wind before a snowstorm.

“Cassian. Andromeda. You’re early.”

The sound of her sister’s voice finally pulls Nesta away from her staring, and it’s then that she notices the woman standing beside Cassian. She’s pretty, all long legs and dark, curly hair pulled back into a high ponytail. Her smile is wide, easy, green eyes bright as she coos at Nyx cradled in his mother’s arms, the babe smiling in return with a familiarity that makes Nesta’s gut twist.

“Yeah, our last client ended up canceling, so we figured we’d just close up shop and head over,” the woman, Andromeda, explains, reaching out to tickle Nyx’s belly completely at ease.

“Nesta,” Cassian breathes like he’s not even listening to the conversation around him, like his only focus is her.

Nesta hates the way the sound of her name falling past his lips sends a shiver skittering up her spine, the way her heart skips and constricts between her ribs. She hates the way her whole body seems set on betraying her, a thousand words clogging the back of her throat and weighing heavy on her tongue, her blood practically buzzing and thrumming with the desire to be pulled right back into his orbit.

“So you’re the infamous Nesta,” Andromeda cuts in. “It’s so nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you and your band.”

“I’m sorry. I have to go.”

Nesta is sure that she’ll be receiving a text from Feyre about her cool and clipped tone, but she doesn’t care. She needs to get out of there. She shoulders past Cassian and Andromeda, quickly digging her keys out of her bag. She can feel Cassian’s gaze on her the whole time, can feel the way it practically burns a hole into her shoulder blades, but she doesn’t turn back. She merely clambers into her car and shoves the key into the ignition.

It’s only when she’s back in the safety of the parking lot for her apartment building that she finally releases the stuttering breath she was holding in. Finally gives into the emotion clanging and clamoring in her chest, gripping the steering wheel until her knuckles turn white and dropping her head down onto the leather.

If she closes her eyes, she can still feel the sheets tangled around her body and legs. Can still hear the words Cassian whispered in the darkness between them. Can still feel the ice that had sliced through her veins, the fear and anxiety that had swirled dangerously, the ringing that took up home in her ears.

She can still see the look on his face, the way his smile had dropped and those hazel eyes had dimmed, as she clambered off of the bed and started pulling her clothes on.

It’s like a ghost that won’t give up its haunt, a shadow digging its claws in until the wound continues to bleed and bleed, crimson red staining her fingers. She remembers the sound of bare feet on the hardwood as he followed her to the door, the words he spat as she slipped her shoes back on.

Yeah, do what you always do best: walk away. You know, for someone who claims to never want to be like her mother, you sure are just like her. Walls tall enough that what sane man would even bother trying to get through them.

She remembers the echo of the door slamming shut behind her, the silence that carved out the space between her ribs. She remembers the string of texts and voicemails that followed in the days after, each more desperate than the last.

Sweetheart, I’m sorry. You know I didn’t mean it. Let’s just talk it out.

Nes, please. Just call me back. I was just angry, just lost my temper.

Fuck, Nes. Please. We don’t… we can just go back to the way it was before, okay? We can pretend I didn’t say anything.

With a sigh, Nesta slumps back against the seat, scrubbing the heels of her hands against her eyes and wishing she could scrub the memories just as easily. She snatches her bag from the front seat and slips out of the car, taking the elevator up to her floor. Thankfully, Emerie and Gwyn are both out until later, so she’s able to retreat to her room. She settles beneath a pile of blankets and tries to distract herself with her latest book, but her fingers itch and twitch until she finally caves.

It’s easy enough to find Andromeda on Instagram. Feyre and her little family, including Cassian, all follow her. Most of her posts are fitness Reels, tips for doing certain exercises, best exercises to hit each muscle group. There’s a post of glasses cheers-ing that’s captioned, ‘Just birthday things’ where behind one of the pint glasses, Nesta can see Cassian with his head thrown back laughing, and a more recent post is a gym selfie with him, both of them flexing their arms in matching Night Gains apparel. One of the highlights is labeled with just a pink heart, so Nesta dares to click that next, but after seeing the first Story with two green smoothies and ‘Smoothie dates > coffee dates,’ she decides that she’s seen enough.

Letting out a quiet huff, Nesta tosses her phone aside and does the one thing she knows will actually help. She grabs her guitar.

~ * * * ~

“I think it’s a full house out there,” Gwyn says excitedly, stepping over to Nesta and Emerie. “Definitely more people than our last show.”

Emerie clears her throat with a smirk, using a drumstick to gesture at her mouth. “You might want to fix your lipstick post-goodluck-kiss.”

Gwyn rolls her eyes, but she pulls her phone from her back pocket, using the camera as a mirror to do just that, sliding her thumb against the now smudged color. Nesta snorts amusedly and goes back to plucking each string of her guitar, tuning until she’s happy with the end result. The process is methodical and second nature, a soothing balm to her nerves that spark and jump at Gwyn’s earlier words. The bar isn’t exactly big, but even if they were performing to just five people, Nesta knows that her stomach would still twist with anxiety. No matter how many times they perform, the stage fright still sends her emotions swooping right before they hit the stage.

“Also…” Gwyn starts, turning her full attention to Nesta and offering a small grimace as she adjusts the strap of her bass across her shoulder. “You should probably know that—”

“Alright, everyone,” Cresseida’s booming voice cuts her off, the bar owner speaking into the microphone at the center of the stage. “Thanks so much for coming out tonight. Make sure you tip your bartender and give it up for The Valkyries.”

Cheers and applause echo around the bar, and Nesta, Emerie, and Gwyn step out of the wings and onto the stage. Emerie steals a quick kiss from Cresseida before she settles behind her drum kit, knocking her sticks together to count them into the first song.

For a moment, as Nesta’s fingers strum the guitar strings with ease, as she steps up to the microphone to sing the first verse, everything else fades away. It’s just her and her chosen sisters and the music. The notes skitter across her skin. The melody sinks deep into her bones. And nothing else except this matters. Nothing else except the lightness that floods and warms her veins, the comfort that wraps around her limbs as sure as the music. Nothing else except the rush that comes from being up on a stage and doing what she loves.

As Gwyn sings the second verse of the song, Nesta’s eyes sweep over the crowd. It’s easy enough to find her sisters where they’ve claimed a set of tables at the very front near the stage. Elain is leaning back against Lucien, one of his arms secure around her waist while she films on her phone. Feyre is opposite her, Rhysand’s arm slung casually across her shoulders while she sings along to the lyrics. Nesta can see Azriel and his dopey smile while he watches Gwyn, can see Morrigan where she sways along to the music, a glass of wine poised in her hand.

And there, in the middle of their little group, is Cassian and Andromeda.

It takes all of Nesta’s willpower not to break, for her fingers not to slip on the strings, for her voice not to falter as she comes back in to sing the chorus with Gwyn. It doesn’t help that Cassian is already staring right at her, the hazel of his eyes glinting even through the harsh stage lights. A small smile pulls across his lips, almost sad, but Nesta refuses to dwell on it, refuses to dwell on him and their past.

Because if she doesn’t, she’ll be forced to think about the way his arms felt wrapped around her, the safety she’d found within that embrace. She’ll be forced to think about the way his lips felt pressed against hers, against her skin, the way his hair felt threaded through her fingers. She’ll be forced to think about the songs on the setlist that he got to hear first, back when they were little more than a jumbled mess of unfinished of lyrics and melodies, about how his hazel eyes always seemed to shine with what looked suspiciously pride while he smiled and told her the songs were amazing.

So instead, Nesta tears her gaze away from him and focuses on finishing the song. And then the next one. And then the next one. She makes it almost to the end of the set before she’s stepping away from the microphone and turning her back to the audience.

“I think we should do the new song,” Nesta explains, her eyes darting between Emerie and Gwyn.

“Are you sure?” Gwyn asks, keeping her voice quiet so the microphones won’t pick them up. “We’ve only practiced it like twice.”

“Twice is all we need. Em?”

Emerie shrugs her shoulders. “You know I’m always down for a little chaos.”

With a nod, Nesta slips her electric guitar off her shoulders, stepping over to the side of the stage and swapping it with her acoustic. When the strap is secure, she slides her fingers down the strings, giving the guitar a testing strum, before she steps back up to the microphone.

“So, we thought we’d slow it down a bit and play you a new song tonight,” Nesta speaks to the crowd. “Hope everyone likes it.”

More cheers and applause answer her, so Nesta starts to strum the opening chords, Gwyn stepping up to her own microphone to begin singing the opening verse. As the song continues to build toward the chorus, Nesta keeps her eyes closed rather than risk catching those hazel eyes again. She keeps her focus on steadying her breathing, on pushing her voice through the emotions that twist and twine around her chest like prickly vines.

“Does she make you happy? I heard she’s an athlete, a hit with your family. So what do I, what do I do? I’m more of a black sheep, the last one your friends meet before you get married. So what do I, what do I do?”

The lyrics flow as freely through Nesta as they did that day she penned the song, even as they threaten to clog up her throat at the same time. She can feel the familiar sting behind her eyes, feel the way her fingers have started to tremble, and as the song comes around to the bridge, she finally snaps her eyes open again, finally gives in to the bruised throb that is her heart.

“So what the hell am I supposed to do when I can’t find my heart because it’s lost on you? So what the hell am I supposed to say when I can’t catch my breath because you took it away?”

When the final chords of the song echo out around them, there’s a brief moment of silence before the crowd erupts into more cheers, Feyre’s declaration of ‘we love you, Nesta’ carrying over the cacophony. It has a small smile tugging up Nesta’s lips, gives her the motivation she needs to finish the final two songs in the set.

But as Nesta steps off the stage, the adrenaline, the high that comes from performing, fades like smoke in the wind. It leaves her chest feeling tight, a lump pressing hard enough against her throat that she can do nothing but swallow hard. She needs to get out of here. She needs air.

So, while Emerie and Gwyn excitedly exit the backstage area to join the crowds of the bar, Nesta turns on her heel and slips out one of the back doors and into the side alley. She leans back against the brick of the building, tipping her head up toward the inky sky overhead and greedily sucking down gulps of the chilled night air. She presses a hand against her sternum, against the thundering of her heart beneath her palm, and counts back from ten.

The sound of scraping metal has Nesta jolting upright again, her head snapping toward the door back to the bar. She watches as Cassian steps out into the night, letting the door fall shut behind him. He has his hands shoved into his pockets, his shoulders raised as though he’s bracing for the worst. For a moment, there’s only silence between them, only the sounds of distant cars, of the bass thrumming from within the bar from the stereo system Cresseida turned back on.

Cassian opens his mouth before seeming to think better of it, clearing his throat instead. “That was a great set tonight. I especially like the new song.”

“Thanks,” Nesta tells him quietly.

“Who’s it about?”

Nesta rolls her eyes. “Not all of our songs are autobiographical.”

“You forget that I know you, Nes, and I know your writing style.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“You used to like when I called you Nes.”

It’s true. He was always the only person she let get away with the nickname, the only one she didn’t chew out about using her proper name. And it was that nickname, whispered into her hair, their bodies pressed together, that always had goosebumps erupting across her skin. But she refuses to admit all that to him, refuses to give him any more parts of her heart to hold hostage. So instead, she narrows her eyes and scowls, crossing her arms.

“Isn’t your table missing you?” Nesta asks coldly, raising a pointed brow. “What are you doing out here with me when you could be with them?”

Cassian laughs wryly, crossing his own arms and matching her stance. “I doubt a single one of them even noticed I’m gone.”

“You think that lowly of your new girlfriend?”

“So, the new song is about me then?”

“You’re an arrogant ass,” Nesta sneers, daring to take a step closer to him.

“That’s why we ended things, right? I’m an arrogant, insufferable asshole who can’t hold his tongue, and you’re a stubborn, haughty witch who refuses to let anyone close.”

It’s dangerous territory, rehashing things, opening that door again, but Nesta’s blood blazes and sings. She’s itching for a fight, for another round of the push and pull between them that’s held taut like some sort of golden thread since the moment they met. From the fire she can see burning in Cassian’s hazel eyes, she knows he feels it too, but her heart is still too battered, too bruised and cracked, from that final conversation between them. It still twists and squeezes just standing here with him now, that she’s not sure it could take anything more. Not sure that she could survive a world where they go back to being friends, where she can stand on the sidelines and watch whatever is between him and Andromeda blossom.

So Nesta holds her arms tighter around herself and breaks their staring contest, turning her face away. “I don’t think you should come to my shows anymore.”

Cassian scoffs at that, drawing Nesta’s attention back to him. “No.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Dammit, Nesta, I miss you. I miss us, even if you say there never was an us.” Cassian sighs softly, pushing a hand up and through his hair. “If the only way I get to see you is up on that stage, then so be it. I’ll take what I can get.”

The admission hangs in the night between them, Nesta unsure of how to respond to that. Words and feelings bubble up in her throat, clawing desperately for release, but she keeps her lips firmly pressed together. Cassian continues to watch her, but as the seconds continue to tick by, he lets out another sigh, turning back toward the door.

“She’s not my girlfriend, you know,” Cassian offers quietly, his hand resting on the door handle. “Andromeda. She just works at the gym as one of the trainers. In fact, I’m not even close to her type, which is why I introduced her to Mor.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“I don’t know,” Cassian mutters, shaking his head before finally turning to meet her gaze again. “Probably because you’ll always be the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Before Nesta can think twice about it, before she can talk herself out of it, she’s moving. It takes just a few short strides for her to crash into him, Cassian’s arms slipping easily around her waist and tugging her closer still. His lips find home against hers, and Nesta kisses him with everything she’s got, kisses him with the hunger, with the regret, with the longing, that’s been building inside her in their months apart.

The kiss is everything she’s missed. The slide of Cassian’s lips against her own. The hot press of his tongue into her mouth. The solid warmth of his body pressed against her. They fit together like puzzle pieces, like twin flames twining and burning up into the stars above, and some part deep within Nesta’s soul seems to sigh in relief, seems to unfurl like coming home.

She buries a hand into the soft, dark strands of Cassian’s hair, tugging until she draws a groan out of him, a thrill skittering up her spine at the way the sound reverberates through his chest, against her lips. Cassian’s own hands slide down to her thighs, hoisting her up and against him. Nesta wraps her legs around his waist, Cassian walking them until he can press her back against the wall of the bar, until their hips slot perfectly into place.

Nesta moans against him as she starts to rock her hips, her free hand sliding down his chest and bunching up his shirt until she can press her palm against the heat of his skin. Cassian tears his mouth away from hers, and Nesta lets her head fall back against the brick, expects him to press his lips to her neck, but his whole body tenses up instead.

Carefully, Cassian sets Nesta back down on her feet, taking a pointed step back and away from her. The loss of contact leaves Nesta feeling cold, an ache beginning to settle in her chest that has nothing to do with the chilly night air around them. She can feel the barbed words poised on the tip of her tongue, the defenses rising to cut before another blow gets close to landing.

“Fuck,” Cassian mutters, scrubbing a hand down his face. “This was the mistake we made last time. We fell into bed and it was all fun until you were literally walking out the door and refusing to speak to me again.”

“What?” Nesta asks, hating the way her voice sounds so small.

“I thought I could take whatever you’d be willing to give me, but I can’t… I won’t lose you again. I don’t want just sex. I want to do this right. I want there to be an us.”

There’s a desperation, a pleading, to Cassian’s expression, to his tone, as he steps closer again. He reaches up and gently tucks a strand of Nesta’s hair behind her ear. It’s a soft gesture, one that has Nesta’s breath catching in her lungs, has her heart tripping over itself for a beat.

“Let me take you on a date, a proper one,” Cassian begs quietly, dipping his head down enough that he can press his forehead to Nesta’s.

Nesta has to swallow hard before she’s able to find her words again, but she raises a hand to cup his cheek. His eyes flutter closed at her touch, turning his head to lean further into her palm. She smiles softly up at him, and Cassian’s answering grin is that private one she’s beginning to suspect is only for her. The sight of it after so long sends her heart soaring, sends butterflies cascading and swooping in her gut.

“Alright. It’s a date.”

—

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thedeviltohisangel · 2 months

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Fall For A Shooting Star//Cassian Week 2024: Day Four, Lover

a/n: way angstier than i ever intended but i loved the way this turned out! cassian x thea realize their mating bond but not without some deeply rooted trauma coming to light on the way there. enjoy my lovelies!

previous part

Thea had learned at an early age that there was no use in crying. That it was something that highlighted her lack of use to the world. That it was something only feeble, fragile, meek females did. And it was proof that they could never be true warriors. So she had learned to hold back her tears. To only let them slip silently down her cheeks when she was alone at night. To grit her teeth and will them into disappearing before anyone else could even notice them welling behind her eyes. She had gotten so good at it. So why couldn’t she stop them now?

It was her second Starfall in Velaris. A joyous occasion. Mor had taken her to a beautiful shop in the heart of the city to find a dress and tailor it to her like a glove. The blonde had teased Cassian relentlessly over how Thea had looked in the dress. How no one at the House would be able to look at the stars when she finally had it on.

But it had all been for nothing as she stayed in her black, silk slip and was having trouble catching her breath even as she stood on the balcony. All she could think of was Cassian asking the twin wraiths if he and Thea could have a moment alone, the females bowing and abandoning their pursuit of taming her curls. All she could think of was Cassian kneeling by the chair of her vanity and caressing her cheek. Telling her how he couldn’t breathe when he thought about spending this holiday with her. How he felt so content knowing they were building a life together in Velaris. How they had found people to join their family and they would never be cold or alone ever again.

He told her how he had wanted to wait until the stars danced across the sky but he wanted to celebrate with her all night instead of waiting. And then he was holding a ring. And asking her to marry him and Thea’s chest had constricted so tightly she thinks the world stood still. Oh but he looked so happy. So in love. So ready to get the final formality out of the way and spend his life by her side the way he had always wanted. And she wanted that too. She loved him too.

Instead of answering, she ran out onto the balcony and did her best to stem the sobbing. She didn’t dare to look back to see if Cassian remained or had left. Undoubtedly this would be her last night welcome in the House. Her last night welcome among his friends and family. It was what she deserved for breaking the heart of the male who had spent centuries devoted to her.

“Thea. I’m sorry. Now isn’t the right time. Forget I asked.” The ring was already tucked back into the pocket of his dress pants and would be obliterated by his siphons or an ax as soon as he made sure she was okay.

She turned to look at him where he stood in the doorway. Pain was settling on his face as he took in how distraught she was. “Cassian, you don’t want this,” she breathed. “You and me…It was just a silly little dream to keep us going. To help us fight our way out. You’re brothers with the High Lord and General Commander of his armies. The life you deserve…It’s all ahead of you.”

“Don’t you fucking say that,” he seethed as he stepped towards her, “Don’t you fucking tell me what you mean to me. Or tell me what I want or diminish the love I have for you.”

“We can’t get married.” Her voice was firm even as her hands that were wrapped around herself began to shake.

“Then we won’t,” he replied simply. He reached for her and she took a step back.

“You deserve to marry your mate. To be in love with your mate. To share all of this beauty and grandeur with them.” No bond had snapped between them in the centuries they’d loved each other. Thea felt like an imposter sharing his bed and vacationing to other Courts and falling in love with the other misfits that made up his family.

“Is that what this is about? Thea, you are the only female I have loved my entire life. There is no other. Certainly not a mate-”

“But you of all people are deserving of one, Cassian. That is what is so painful for me. To love you and all that you are. You are kind and you are brave and you are selfless and you are the only thing that has ever been good in my world. I have not allowed myself to have you fully because I know I would not be able to stand losing you.” She knew in her chest that there was a mate somewhere out there in the world for Cassian. That he would have the happy tale they’d heard around the campfires and whispered among the elders of Windhaven. “I want to marry you. I want to be by your side forever and realize the dreams we whispered about when you held me after they took my wings.” He dropped to his knees before her at the memory. “How do I do that, Cassian, knowing it may not last?”

“I will live with the guilt of not shielding you from those monsters for the rest of my life,” he vowed. “I love you, Thea. And I wish I was as smart as Rhysand and had the words to explain the depth of that love but I am just a bastard born brute. One who is not deserving of loving you but it has been the honor of my life to do so.” He would let her go. He would say good night and never come back here ever again if that is what she asked him to do. She would be safe within these walls and with his family and he would never have to worry if she was being taken care of. It was a lonely life but one he would be able to live. For her.

“The words mean nothing when I’ve felt your love everyday, Cassian.” Thea fell to her knees with a sob and his arms and wings were around her in an instant.

“Please don’t say goodbye,” he begged, “Please don’t let this be how our story ends.” For if it was, what was the point of everything they had fought through?

He felt sick when her tear filled eyes looked up at him, his thumb brushing her cheeks without a second thought. He opened his mouth to plead further, appearances be damned, when something lurched behind his rib cage. His gasp caught in his throat at the same time the cheers for the first star dancing across the sky echoed around them. Thea looked away from him to take in the sight but his gaze stayed firmly on her.

It was golden and warm and electrifying, the thread that connected his souls to hers. The bond that thrummed between them. “Do you think we’ll ever get used to the sight of them?” she whispered in awe.

“Thea.” Her name was nearly a whimper coming out of his mouth. “Thea.” A whimper of relief. She finally tore her gaze from the sky to look at him. He brought her hand to his chest and kissed her forehead.

“What am I-” As her heartbeat transitioned to match his, she felt the connection twist around her arm and nestle into her own chest. It took root firmly. As if it had always been there. “Cassian, please tell me you feel it too. That I’m not just drunk off of stardust.” He threw his head back and laughed. The most joyous sound she had ever heard in her life.

“I get to be so much more than just your husband,” he teased. “I get to be your mate.”

@cassianappreciationweek

#cassianweek2024 #cassian #cassian fanfiction #cassian x oc #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #cassian x thea

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siriuslysatorusimping · 8 months

Text

*Excerpt* Built to Break (Gojo Satoru AU)

I'm finally doing it. I'm finally posting some excerpts of the Hot Neighbor/Exes AU. It's gonna be angstier than I had originally intended. But it's not exactly gonna be angst caused by Gojo 🙃

This fucker has been haunting my WIPs for months, and I'm still nowhere near done with it, BUT HERE WE ARE.

Built to Break

They’d gone their separate ways the day after his Master’s graduation. She’d had more schooling to do, and he was on to bigger and better things as well. Long distance never would have worked. Their relationship was never meant to go further than casual, anyway.

He wasn’t the type.

Which was why, when he’d given her an almost guilty smile the day after the ceremony for his second degree, she said what she knew he’d been thinking: “It’s best if we part here, yeah?”

His answering nod had been accompanied by a sweet smile before he’d given her a final, very not sweet kiss.

They had kept in contact for a while after that, though. Texting the occasional update here and there. They’d been friends before they dated, and the plan had always been to shift right back into that friendship eventually.

But it was only natural for them to drift apart when they lived such different lives.

“You look great,” he said now, rubbing the back of his neck.

She snorted, knowing he was lying. She looked like hell after having been up all night.

“Thanks,” she replied drily, watching him grimace. “So do you.”

Now that wasn’t a lie. Still as attractive as he always had been. Maybe more attractive now, actually.

“What makes you think I’m interested in being your last choice?” Rinko asked, stepping into the hallway and heading toward her door as she held the phone to her ear. “I’m not surprised you’re still single. Is this always how you ask someone out?”

“So sorry I didn’t buy you flowers and get down on one knee,” Nanami deadpanned. “You know what I meant.”

“That your plus one fell through, and you were hoping-”

Her voice cut off when she rounded the corner, seeing Gojo struggling to open his front door without being able to see the lock around the woman he had pressed against it. His head lifted from her neck upon hearing Rinko’s voice, and they both turned to stare at her as she blinked stupidly before an awkward laugh broke free.

“Shit,” she gasped when the woman yelped and hid her face in Gojo’s chest. Rinko slapped her hand over her mouth in an attempt to silence the giggles. “Sorry. Please, go about your- business. Don’t mind me-”

“Kurisaki!” Nanami’s voice pulled her attention back to her phone, his tone telling her his eyes were narrowing. “Don’t fucking ignore me.”

He sighed, his eyes narrowing over her shoulder.

“Of all people-”

“Is that Nanamin?” Gojo’s voice asked cheerfully. “I’m hurt that you wouldn’t tell me you’re in town!”

His arm was wrapped loosely around a woman’s waist. One of Jin’s many cousins, if she remembered correctly.

“Because I’m not here for you,” Nanami sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “And I have enough of a headache-”

“Don’t be like that, Nanamin,” Gojo pouted, his eyes moving to Rinko. “He’s still so mean to me, Rinko-chan.”

“What are you doing here?” Nanami asked. “How do you know-”

“Jin’s my cousin,” the woman beside Gojo interjected, rolling her eyes. “Satoru was kind enough to be my date. Shimura Kaya, by the way. Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” he replied. “Nanami Kento-”

“The detective,” Kaya said, her eyes lighting up. “I hear you and Jin are a pretty big deal after you caught-”

“Not really,” Nanami cut her off, his eyes shooting to Rinko’s face. “It was just part of the job.”

The scream ripped from her throat, strangled and terrified as she shot straight up, her hands shaking as they went to her stomach.

Blinking into the darkness, she felt the panic still rising in her chest as she looked around her room.

Safe. She was safe.

Taking a deep breath, she threw the blankets away and pushed herself to her feet.

Moving into her living room, she turned the TV on before getting herself a glass of water. Chugging it, she refilled it while she searched her medicine cabinet.

There were sleeping pills somewhere around here.

Her phone ringing made her jump, a quiet yelp falling from her lips as the glass almost slipped from her fingers. Placing it down, she saw Gojo’s name pop up on her phone screen. Silencing it, she continued her search for the sleeping pills, letting out a quiet cry of triumph when she located them.

Thoughts on the lil blurbs?? Rinko has some serious PTSD in this one... 👀👀

#gojo satoru x original female character #gojo x reader #gojo fanfic #jujutsu gojo #gojo satoru #gojo au #jjk gojo #gojo satoru fic #rinko and gojo

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goosewriting · 2 years

Note

I'd like to request smt for the event! Imagine Donnie coming to visit a still recovering reader after they got kidnapped by the foot clan/big mama. After having gone to bed, they wake up to a Donnie getting ready to put a tracking device in them just like he did with the others. The reader rolls their eyes and goes "wake me up when it's over" pink 46 and blue 6 please!

Finding you (rottmnt Donnie x reader)

prompt 46: “What are you doing here?” “I wanted to see if you were okay.” prompt 6: “Wake me up when it’s over.”

summary: Donnie visits reader after they get rescued from being kidnapped.

relationship: Rise!Donnie x GN reader

warnings: ptsd sort of ??, mentions of kidnapping, angst & comfort

word count: ~690

A/N: this got a bit angstier than intended whoopsie

(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)

– – –

It had only been two days since the turtles rescued you from being kidnapped by Big Mama’s henchmen. The whole experience had been pretty traumatic for you, since it had been your first time in the Hidden City. You were excited to explore the place, after hearing so much about it from the turtle brothers.

You had been enjoying your day on a little date with Donnie. It all happened so fast; he looked away for literally 3 seconds and when he turned around, you were gone. It had taken him several days to even discover where you were, and two more to rescue you.

Now that you were finally in the safety of your own 4 walls, you understandably weren’t keen on going outside, even less so back to the Hidden City. You were still a bit in shock, trying to relax your body from its constant state of attention and getting a fight or flight response and adrenaline spikes from the littlest things.

Donnie had a spare key to your place for emergencies, and while he wasn’t happy that he had to use it, he still was glad that he had one at all, so he could check on you. Since you weren’t leaving your apartment at the moment, he was the one to bring you groceries and food.

As he softly shut the door behind him after entering your living room, he swiftly made his way to your room, leaving the food he brought on the counter at the kitchen on his way. The turtle leaned on your doorframe, and it almost broke him in half to see you bundled up under your blankets in your bed; he felt guilty for what happened because he hadn’t been able to save you faster. In fact, he should have been able to protect you so that you weren’t taken in the first place.

His hands clenched into fists, anger and frustration bubbling up in him again thinking back to the restless days he spent searching for you. He almost blew up Big Mama’s hotel from the ground up looking for you, once he knew she had you.

The shift in his weight from one leg to the other made the wooden floorboard creak under his feet, and you shot up from your position, holding a metallic ladle menacingly towards the intruder.

“Who’s there?!” you asked, quickly coming out of your sleepy stupor. Donnie raised his hands in surrender.

“It’s me, Donnie” he replied and approached you to sit on the edge of your bed, seeing that you put down the ladle and rubbed your face. “Sorry for startling you.”

“What are you doing here?” you ask, shaking.

“I wanted to see if you were okay” Donnie gently rubs your arms. You merely mumbled a response.

“I also left some food in the kitchen” he added and started rummaging in his bag, taking out a kit of some sort, and placing it on the nightstand. You asked him what that is but he didn’t respond. You eyed him suspiciously, involuntarily tightening your hold on the ladle when you saw him take out something that looked like a syringe.

“What. Is. That.” you asked again, this time more demanding.

“... A subcutaneous tracker” he stated matter-of-factly, then sighed. “I mean, if you’re okay with it. I just… I think I’d lose it if you were gone again and I didn’t have any means to find you. I promise I won’t let it happen again. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you ever again. This is just… a security measure.”

Now it was Donnie that was shaking. You could tell he didn’t want to have this conversation but the memory of not being able to find you was really eating away at him.

“Hey, it’s okay” you said softly and held his face. “I trust you.”

You let go of the blankets and ladle, rolling over so that you were on your side, with your arm or back exposed for him to do whatever he had to do, and he leaned down to give your temple a quick kiss.

“Wake me up when it’s over.”

~~~~~

🐥 taglist: [more info in my pinned post!] @hearteyedracoon, @maribatshipper, @whygz, @lovelylovelydreams, @o0-starboy-0o

#goose feathers #500 goslings event #rottmnt #save rottmnt #rottmnt x reader #rottmnt donnie x reader #tmnt 2018 #tmnt x reader #donatello x reader #rise of the tmnt x reader #rise of the tmnt

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mothgodofchaos · 7 days

Note

Do a Murdock x gender neutral reader thing where he like gets caught all bloody and stuff by the reader ( whos his lover) and is like "Oh shit" but the readers just worrying about if he's okay and is just over all super sweet to him

Exhausted

Murdoch x GN!Reader, TW: blood, angst Words: 637

This came out angstier than I originally intended, but I don’t really see people writing this side of him and I like how it turned out.

Murdoch runs a hand through his hair with a sharp exhale, fumbling with his keys through his leather gloves. He drops them, stomping his foot with a groan before bending over and picking them up. He manages to get into the house, ready to shower all of the filth from the hunt off of him.

You hear him enter the house, or frankly you heard his car pull into the driveway, and you’re excited to see him after a long few days of him being away. There’s very little you want to do more than just burying your face in his chest, hugging the life out of him. You turn the corner to see him in the entryway, covered in blood. His favorite sweater stained and the rest of him looking soaked to the bone. He made a slight effort to wipe his face, it seems, although he missed some on his glasses.

“Mur…?”

He spins around to see you, a look of frustration turning into defeat. Murdoch hates you seeing him like this, afraid that you’ll recognize him as the monster he is and leave.

“Fuck…”

His bad day is just getting worse by the minute. Almost didn’t get the guy, scratched up more than he’d like to be, and barely had any time for clean up because there was nothing more that he wanted than to see you and take all the frustrations away. Murdoch steps back from you as you get closer, staying just out of reach.

“Hey angel, don’t be upset, just gotta-“

His usual cocky self is nowhere to be seen. He looks exhausted and melancholic, this job really wore him down.

“Mur, are you okay?”

He pauses his steps towards the bathroom, not turning around to face you again. You step up behind him, taking off his glove and interlocking your fingers. Through measured squeezes, you get him a bit calmer, but you don’t miss the way that he wipes his eyes with his free hand.

“No, no I’m not, angel.”

“Let’s get you cleaned up then, okay? I made dinner, so we can just eat on the couch and watch our show. Does that sound good?”

Murdoch nods, not used to being the one being taken care of. But his mental exertion has reached its limit and he just wants to be with you now. He tries to protect you from the physical dangers of the world, but it’s you that he returns to at the end of the day, keeping him whole. You help him out of his clothes, putting them in the wash while he showers. You lay a tshirt and sweats on the counter for him, along with a roll of bandages for any wounds you didn’t catch. You turn on the television, hot plates of food on the coffee table and a fresh mug of cocoa for him. Something told you he needed it.

When he comes out of the bathroom clean, he makes a beeline for you on the couch. Food is ignored, quickly picking you up to hold on his lap, burying his face in the back of your shoulder. He holds you tight against his chest, like a child holding their favorite stuffie.

“Are you better now? Want your food?”

“In a minute, I need this…”

You start giving scritches to his scalp, and he seems to relax. Part of you wants to cry because you’ve realized he feels safe enough to be vulnerable with you. You are his safety, more than he is yours. He is coaxed into eating a bit, passing him his warm drink after a few bites.

“Thank you, love. I mean it.”

“I love you, I’d do this for you every day if I needed to.”

He kisses your temple, his killer grin returning.

“I love you too.”

#murdoch #murdoch markiplier #murdock markiplier #murderiplier #murdoch x reader #murdock x reader #in space with markiplier #iswm #markiplier egos #stabbington #chaoswrites #chaosanswers

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icarustica · 2 years

Note

u said u could make the last prompt angstier. do it i dare u

77 - "you were my best friend" round 2 electric boogaloo

(this one is actually on my archive page i'm very proud of it thank u anon for pushing me to finish it)

tw - implied major character death (none actually occur)

♥♥♥ sorrow ♥♥♥

“Listen, we’re out of wine, alright? The–the fucking besotted ladies who were all swooning over that fuckin’ bard bought us out, alright? The last I’ve got is this cheap Redania and that won’t… okay. Sure, I got it!” yelled the cook from across the bar.

Geralt, midway through drinking himself into oblivion, blinked owlishly, looking up.

Bard.

He’d found himself in Lettenhove, chasing after a lone drowner traveling up the Sinet river. It ravaged every fishing operation it came across, and Geralt figured once the bastard was dead he’d have fishermen practically throwing coin his way.

“Uh-huh. And of course the flashy boy’s got a whole procession and everything,” scoffed the cook, once he’d snatched the last bottle of cheap wine from underneath the counter. “Everyone all dressed up. Throwin’ flowers. Singin’ that song about that witcher.”

Geralt rose.

The cook looked, and his ruddy face paled. His tirade stumbled to a stop.

“The bard,” Geralt said gruffly. “Jaskier?”

The cook nodded, suddenly solemn. “Y-Yes,” he said. To his credit, he wasn’t afraid. Just… nervous, for some reason. “That’s the one. Our own hometown hero.”

Geralt’s mildly tipsy mind raced.

Why would Jaskier be back in Lettenhove?

Why would there be a celebration in his honor?

His mind landed on the only possible answer.

Marriage. The damn bastard had gone and got married.

The wine - ladies who’d desired Jaskier throwing themselves into alcohol. The procession, the flowers - a celebration fit for a lord.

“Of course,” Geralt grumbled, taking the last swig of his tankard. Misery clawed at his gut - all the unsaid words. All the said ones, the terrible ones spoken in biting mountain air. The one I’d been lucky enough to care for… gave up on me.

Geralt swallowed, lashes fluttering as he turned. He gave up on me.

“Witcher,” called the cook as Geralt walked to the door.

He paused, turned back, and met the cook’s suddenly soulful brown eyes. The cook shifted, still clutching the wine. “If you want to find him… Appleshon hill.”

“When?”

The cook’s brows furrowed. He shrugged. “Any time you like.”

Geralt walked up the hill - steep, with just a sparse cobblestone path to guide him. On the way, he was stopped by an old woman with a cane. One of her eyes was milky blue. “Witcher,” she said.

Geralt bowed his head a little.

“Where are you going?”

“To see Jaskier,” he replied. “The bard. I suspect there was some big fuss about him around here recently.”

She looked at him kindly, then toddled forward, reaching far upward to card her hand through his hair. She inspected it with the eye that worked, then nodded, seemingly satisfied. “You are his witcher, then.”

“I suppose.”

“You suppose?”

He felt that sinking in his chest again, the unpleasant ache. “I don’t think he’s calling me his anything nowadays.”

“Hm.” Her gaze turned sad. “I suppose.”

And, without another word, she pressed a bouquet of scraggly wildflowers into his hands. Dandelions. Daisies. Little purple things Geralt didn’t know the name of. He swallowed the lump in his throat, eyes firmly trained on their scattered leaves as the old woman turned away.

What a lovely gift, for a lover.

What a dismal apology.

He continued on his way.

Again, he was stopped, this time by a tall man dressed in black, with a large leather satchel. His face was drawn, gaunt. “Ho there,” he called. “Witcher.”

Geralt nodded, slid his eyes away, fully intending to keep going up the hill - he could see the crest now, the shambling stone wall dotted with ivy. Ten minutes, maybe five, and he would be there, closer to Jaskier than he had been in years.

He ran over his speech in his head - all the small things to say, all the large ones to hint at.

“Witcher,” called the man again, voice rough and broken. One dark eyebrow cocked. “What business do you have here?”

“Visiting a friend,” Geralt replied with a sigh, turning to face the other man on the path.

“No monster-slaying?”

“No.”

“Ah.” The man cocked his head. “Say, if you were ever in the mood to kill a monster, and wanted it remembered… well, I noticed your bard has gone rather into retirement.”

Geralt winced.

“Too soon? Sorry,” the man chuckled, in his gentle timbre. “Well. I’m a writer, not a bard. My name’s Hoid - in case you’ve heard of my work. Perhaps the witcher would like to try stories instead of songs?”

For some reason, anger welled up in his belly. Geralt quieted it with a long breath, in and out. He assessed the man again, from the silver on his shoes to the black stubble on his chin. By all rights, he should have liked this man more than Jaskier - the easy way he talked, the simplicity of his clothing, the wickedness of the knife at his hip…

But it wasn’t Jaskier. It wasn’t his fucking bard.

“No,” Geralt growled. “Never.”

The writer tilted his head forward in a single nod of acknowledgement. “I understand. Goodnight, witcher, and good luck.”

Geralt watched the man’s back for a long time as he made his way back down the cobblestone hill.

The door was made of wood. And even Geralt, at his considerable height, could not see over the stone wall. He swallowed the lump in his throat, preparing himself for whatever may lay beyond it –

Jaskier, incensed. Yelling. Screaming at Geralt, ripping his paltry flowers to shreds.

Jaskier, happy. Having forgotten Geralt and his dirt and monsters years ago.

Jaskier…

Geralt swallowed, hand clenched around the wildflowers. He ran through his speech again, through the careful words that had given him the strength to climb those last few steps. Summoning courage, he pushed open the thick wooden gate.

Headstones.

Geralt blinked, and suddenly things seemed to move in slow motion - the crashing of an ocean miles away. The birds circling one bare tree. The headstones all dotted in a row, a tomb or two along the side of the gray wall.

He swallowed, feeling like the continent’s worst fool.

Time moved like a dream. He walked along the headstones, every running word in his mind frozen. He let the heads of the wildflowers scrape the top of the stones, reading name after name, hoping, praying, for something he was too terrified to name.

Nordand Allsor - A Loving Father

Ophela Dart - When The Wind Moves The Tree, Think Thee of Me

Stormund Brekker - Lover, Took Too Soon

Jaskier

Geralt’s mind almost didn’t register it. The last in the row, nestled beneath a tree. He stood there for a long moment, expression blank as he read it, over and over again.

JASKIER.

Bold letters.

Geralt knelt, knees thudding in the dirt. How could he have thought it was a wedding? The flowers, the sad looks, the sudden kindness to a witcher - it couldn’t have been anything else. Jaskier would not be in Lettenhove otherwise. Except to be buried.

Geralt shoved his hand in the dirt, some animal part of him wanting to dig up the fresh earth, needing to touch him, to hold him, to cradle him in his arms and–

He let out a shaky breath, feeling the cool earth in his fingers. Most of him couldn’t believe it, that his bard had gone and died without him.

Geralt slammed the flowers right below the headstone.

His chest shook.

It felt like–

It felt like Jaskier himself was trying to climb his way out of Geralt’s stomach and into his throat.

The thought of it almost made him laugh, the memory of Jaskier’s voice when it became panicked. How ridiculous the man was. The next time Geralt saw him, he’d tell him–

It thudded into him again. A relentless realization, a chain reaction of simple things, the simple fact that he was now a memory, just some man. Geralt imagined fifty years down the road, when he was old and slow and he would have to tell his brothers about the time he had a friend. The time when someone loved him.

“Fuck,” he said, and it shocked the silence away. Now he could hear his own shallow breathing, hear himself tremble, his heart thudding away in his ears. “Fuck.”

His speech.

He’d had a speech.

“I’m sorry,” he started, because that was the beginning, wasn’t it? That had always been the beginning, when he’d imagined this, Jaskier in front of him, gold and alive and sweet and gentle and tough and angry–

“Fucking hell,” he spat at himself. He rubbed his eyes with the hand not grasping at the dirt. He sat up, shakily breathing, trying to find some semblance of composure. He held onto his meditation with a white-knuckled grip, feeling his own spine shake like a tiny dog. He trembled, but he did not break.

He owed him that.

He owed Jaskier dignity.

“I owe you a lot,” he said. “I owe you my life, certainly.” He swallowed. “Friendship. Coin, probably. I think when you… when you left, off that mountain, I took some of your coin with me.” He grabbed his coin purse, and with shaking hands pressed all the gold coins he had into the dirt. “There,” he said. “I…”

He had to pause. To allow his racing heart to return to his body, to let his clouded mind settle on the dirt and the stone in front of him. The sky rumbled, unhappy with his meager apologies.

“I think, though, we both know our friendship is a lot more than an exchange at this point,” he continued, and the words cut up his throat. “I’m truly sorry, Jaskier, for everything I…” he trailed off as he stared at the headstone.

JASKIER.

He reached forward to press his thumb into the indents. “You were my best friend,” he confessed, and the wind howled and tears pricked at his face. “In the whole world. The whole damn world. And I know it’s too late,” he added, hoarse. “Far too late. I should have been there to protect you, but I was a fool, Jask, I was a fucking bastard to you and I…”

He hung his head. “I wish I could be better to you,” he said, raw. “Give you things you deserve.”

Geralt swallowed.

“You deserve… me. If you want me.”

“Geralt?”

His eyes flew open, staring at the dirt.

Not a good time to start imagining things, Geralt.

“Melitele, I–”

Geralt turned his head, eyes widening, and–

There he was. Dressed in simple, plain clothes, a string of red around his neck, scruffy and long-haired but smelling of wildflowers and chamomile and apples–

Jaskier put a hand over his mouth.

There was a moment of silence, as Geralt, on his knees, felt his heart slow, then quicken, as shock thudded through him again.

“I can explain,” said Jaskier quickly, holding up a hand. “Those were very nice words, okay, I just–I didn’t want to interrupt, it looked like you were having a moment–”

Geralt stood on admittedly shaky legs, looking at him, just…

He was alive.

The embarrassment of the moment was overshadowed by the beating heart he could hear over the wind.

One moment he had stood, the next he’d wrapped his arms around Jaskier’s very warm, very alive body, pressing his face into the space between Jaskier’s shoulder and his neck. He breathed him in, only briefly wondering if he was allowed this, allowed this contact, before Jaskier’s hands gripped him back.

“Now, listen,” said Jaskier carefully after a moment. “There was a very nasty escapade involving my mother wanting me back to rule over Lettenhove. I had to fake my death. It was really quite an adventure but I can see how you sobbing over my grave–”

Geralt grumbled, deep in his chest. “Not sobbing.”

“Practically sobbing. Really close, in fact.”

Geralt leaned back, and held Jaskier’s chin in his hand, feeling that pulse again. Alive, alive, alive. “Weeping,” he said very seriously.

Jaskier laughed, blue eyes twinkling. Then they faded. “Wait. You’re serious. Geralt, I’m fully prepared to forget what I just saw if you want me to. I swear, even the part about you owing me your life–”

Geralt brushed his hair out of his face. “Don’t joke. I was mourning,” he said, and his voice was still rough. “I never want to mourn you again.”

“Oh,” breathed Jaskier, soft as a whisper. “Well, that’s very–”

Geralt kissed him, soft as anything.

-♥icarusty

138 notes · View notes