#theres a happy ending dont worry

[a-kind-of-merry-war]

all the ghosts that are never gonna—

Geralt needs Jaskier for a hunt. When he arrives in Oxenfurt, he receives devastating news about his bard. But a witcher’s work is never finished, and life moves on— apart from sometimes... it doesn’t.

5.3k. Rated T for swears. Contains: MCD-fakeout, hauntings, ghosts, death mentions and yes it has a happy ending. Promise.

~

It's a shockingly warm late autumn day. Overheard, the sky is dazzlingly blue, and completely cloudless. Geralt rides unhurriedly down the wide road. He's headed to Andole, following a missive from a pack of nobles with a problem they need dealing with discretely. Geralt's never been discrete a day in his life, but he is efficient, and he suspects that at this stage that's more important to his employers.

It's a tricky little contract: a vampire disguised as a duke. Or perhaps it's a duke disguised as a vampire. Either way, Geralt suspects it will end in bloodshed. He hates these sorts of hunts. Less tracking, and more... mingling. Asking difficult people seemingly simple questions. Arguing. It's been a while since he's gone through the rigmarole of it, and he'd be the first to admit that he's woefully out of practice. If only he had someone who could—

Jaskier. Of course. He's always been Geralt's secret weapon for these contracts, partly because he's much more charming and beguiling than Geralt is, and partly because—somehow—the bard seems to bloody know everyone. Andole is only a few miles East of Oxenfurt, too.

He tugs Roach's reins around, guiding her West.

He's not sure where Jaskier actually is, so rents a room then makes his way to the Academy. He skulks around the music hall for a moment before a man appears: a bard in a lurid yellow doublet. If anyone knows where Jaskier is, it will be this person. He has sleeves like church bells, offensive facial hair and a feather in his hat the length of Geralt's arm.

"Jaskier?" The bard says disinterestedly, when Geralt asks where he can find him. "Oh, yes. He's gone."

"...Gone?"

"You know, he's moved on. He's in a better place." The bard flicks the feather out of his face with a shrug. "Gone to the other side."

Oh.

It's like the ground has dropped from beneath Geralt's feet. The world feels pin-prick sharp, honed in, too close. His hands are shaking, he realises.

"When?" He asks, weakly.

The bard shrugs. "Seven weeks ago?" He says blithely. "Eight? What month is it?"

Eight weeks. Gods.

"Oh," the bard adds, as if only just remembering. "He gave me this to give to you, should you grace us with your presence."

He pulls a folded piece of paper from somewhere inside his doublet. Geralt reaches for it.

"You are the witcher, yes?" The bard drawls. "I mean—" he looks Geralt up and down. "I assumed, of course, but one always has to check."

"Yes," Geralt says, wondering what on earth it could be.  What Jaskier had deemed important enough to leave him.

The bard hands over the paper. Geralt takes it, tugs it open, and—

The paper bursts into flame. The fireball hangs in the air for a few moments, and there's a twisting shape writhing amongst the licking flashes of light. Geralt tries to look closer, but the fireball suddenly sputters, exploding into dust. 

"What the fuck—"

The bard peers at him. "Oh, you're still here?" He frowns, then sniffs the air. "Is something burning?"

Geralt leaves the bard without so much as a farewell. He cannot feel the tips of his fingers or the uneven cobblestones beneath his feet. 

He thinks of the note. Of the flames.  The weird shape—

But, of course, it doesn't matter. None of that matters.

Jaskier is dead.

There's a—a hollow, inside him. He thinks back to the last time he spoke to Jaskier, and realises, with a pang of guilt, that he can't even remember what their conversation had been about. Jaskier had been saying goodbye, he thinks. He'd been too busy to give an adequate answer. An hour later, he was gone.

Fuck. He makes his way back to the inn in a daze, barely aware of where he's going. All thoughts of the contract drop away—the duke who might be a vampire, his subjects, the hastily scribbled missive demanding Geralt's attention and the hefty reward he was promised. He'd trade the bag of gold to bring Jaskier back. He pushes his way into the inn, and ignoring the shocked look of the innkeeper and other patrons quickly heads upstairs.

He opens the door to his rented room to see Jaskier perched on the bed, covered in blood.

No. Not perched. Hovering, six inches from the coverlet. He looks around as Geralt enters.

"It's about time," he says.

And—despite years of training and fighting and seeing the worst things any living person can see—Geralt faints clean away.

~

When Geralt comes to, Jaskier has vanished. Geralt puts it down to an overtaxed mind and an overworked body, and tries to shake the horrible image from his head.

He can't. It haunts him. He finishes the contract alone, finding the vampire—disguised as a kitchen-boy, it transpires—and seeing it off. The fight is messy and drawn-out: Geralt is suffering from a lack of sleep, too troubled by the image of Jaskier, blood-soaked and floating, and the creature takes advantage of his distraction.

He does kill it, and accepts the bag of gold. He shoves it into the bottom of his pack and does his best to forget it.

He can't stay in the town, even though his host has offered him room and board for the night. He rides until both he and Roach are exhausted, then makes camp in a tiny clearing at the edge of the woods. He catches a hare, spits it, and sets it to cook above the fire. He's starving—but more than that, he needs something to keep his hands and mind distracted. The silence is deafening. He thinks of plucked strings and hummed half-songs.

The flickering light of the fire twists. It blinks out for a moment. And then...

There he is, illuminated in gold and yellow, sat on the log across the way. The blood is gone, but there's a ring of dark purple bruises around his neck.

"You're not going to pass out again, are you?" Jaskier says. "Only I'm not exactly equipped to pick you up if you are."

He raises a hand to demonstrate. Geralt can see the trees behind him through his palm.

"Jaskier?" Geralt swallows. He doesn't move, in case it breaks the illusion. "Is it really you?"

Jaskier rolls his eyes. "No, Geralt," he says. "It's sweet Melitele herself."

"You're really dead?"

"I am really dead." He says it like he's passing comment on the weather.  "And I know what you're like," he adds. "I know what you're going to say. Some bullshit about this being your fault?"

Geralt hangs his head. "But it is—"

"It's not," Jaskier says over him. His body may be wispy and transparent but his voice is as strong and steady as ever. "I did dangerous work, Geralt. I did dangerous work as a bard, too. I knew what I was risking when I started it. I knew what might—what would happen."

"I should have been there to stop it from happening."

Jaskier gives him a long, sad, look. "You have other things to worry about. More important things. You always did." He looks down at his formless hands, then starts to speak again before Geralt can respond. "If it makes you feel better at all, being tortured probably was your fault." He looks thoughtful for a moment. "Although you could say it was my fault, for hanging around where I wasn't wanted for so long. If I'd thought with my brain instead of my—" he cuts himself off. "Doesn't matter. This—" he gestures to the bruises, "—was not your fault."

"But—"

"Geralt."

"But I should have—"

"Even when I'm dead you don't listen to me, do you?" Jaskier's voice has changed. There's an edge to it, now. He stands, and the fire reflects off of his shimmering form. "See you around, Geralt."

He's gone just as suddenly as he arrived. The fire crackles. Above it, the roasting hare pops. Geralt suddenly doesn't feel very hungry any more.

~

Geralt heads North, following nothing more than instinct. He spends the evenings in anxious anticipation, waiting for Jaskier to appear again. He doesn't. 

A week later, he's on the cusp of another night's fitful sleep on the hard ground of the forest when a bright light startles him awake.

Jaskier's face, glowing like a star, takes up his whole vision. He's lying on the ground beside him like they've done so many times before, no distance at all between them. Geralt's blurry vision focuses. Jaskier is soaking wet. He blinks.

"Oh," he says. "What—"

"I'm sorry." The words slip out before Geralt can stop them.

Jaskier blinks. He opens his lips, which have turned a dark purple colour.

And then the light inside him implodes in upon itself, and he's gone.

~

"Oh bollocks. Not again."

Geralt spins around. He's followed the trail of a wraith to an abandoned catacomb, and the curse echoes oddly from the ancient stone walls.

Jaskier—glowing, ephemeral, and angry looking—stands with his arms folded across his chest beside a half-collapsed pillar.

"Jaskier?"

"You really can't get rid of me," Jaskier says, shaking his head.

This time, the bruises are gone, but there's something dark and sticky-looking dribbling from the corner of his mouth. Jaskier seems to notice it at the same time as Geralt does. He presses his fingers to it with a grimace.

"Eurgh," he says. "This tastes foul."

He spits a thick globule onto the mossy stone floor, where it immediately vanishes. "Huh."

He doesn't have time to say anything else before the wraith bursts through him with a screech. He doesn't even move as she barrels through his body. By the time the wraith is little more than a pile of ash, Jaskier has disappeared.

~

Geralt feels him before he sees him, this time. He's sitting on the bed sharpening his swords in a room above a busy tavern when the air suddenly feels... different. 

"You're back?"  He looks up. He half-wishes he hadn't. "Fuck."

Jaskier stares down at him. Rather: Jaskier's body stares down at him. Jaskier's head, tucked under his arm, is just about eye level.

"Hello to you as well," he says.

"I was going to ask what happened to you," Geralt says. "Just to know. To stop thinking about it."

From beneath his own arm, Jaskier raises his eyebrows at him. "I don't want to talk about it."

Geralt keeps his gaze. "No," he says. "I'm sure you don't." He puts aside the sword. "Will you—" the request catches in his throat. He can feel Jaskier's ghostly eyes on him. "Will you stay?"

There's a long, heavy silence. A sigh, like the wind blowing through a cracked window.

"Move over, then."

Geralt does as he's told. Jaskier sits beside him on the bed. Again, he doesn't quite make contact with the sheet. As if noticing Geralt's discomfort, he slowly lifts his own head and replaces it on his neck. Geralt's expecting it to simply tumble to the floor, but somehow, it sticks. There's a horrible red line where head meets body.

"I thought you might have Ciri with you," Jaskier says. "Where is she? Is she okay?"

"She's with Yen."

Jaskier nods. Geralt knows that he and Yen had patched up the animosity between them. He'd never taken the time to ask how, or why. Somehow, right now, it doesn't feel important.

"You worked it out with her, then?"

It's not the most accurate way to describe the uneasy feelings that still linger between Yen and himself, but again: Geralt doesn't want to get into it.

"Yeah," he settles on. "Mostly."

"Good," Jaskier says. It sounds like he means it. "I'm glad, really. Ciri needs—" he takes a breath. "She needs both of you, I think. And Yen isn't altogether entirely terrible, I suppose." He hesitates again, and Geralt waits, letting him speak. "Does she know?" He gestures at the mark around his neck. "About me?"

Geralt shakes his head. "I've not seen anyone else in weeks," he says, truthfully.

"Oh."

Secretly, Geralt has been glad of that. He doesn't know where Yen and Ciri are, to start, and even if he did, he's not sure he would seek them out. He knows that he ought to tell Yen about Jaskier's death, but the mere thought of that conversation makes his blood turn to ice. It's almost as if by keeping it to himself, it will make it stop being true. A foolish wish, when the evidence that it is true sits so irrefutably beside him.

"Geralt..."

"I miss you."

Jaskier falls silent. The mark around his neck bleeds, sluggishly. His eyes are huge.

"Oh, Geralt," he sighs. "It's too late for that."

Like the dawn breaking—like a sunbeam slicing through glass—he fades away, until all that's left of him are motes of dust, dancing in the air.

~

Geralt is making camp beside a field of wildflowers when Jaskier appears next. This time, there's a dagger sticking horribly from his back.

"Where's your lute?" 

Jaskier turns to look at him. "Lutes don't pass on," he says a little sadly. 

"So you can't play music, like this?"

Jaskier smiles at him, but it doesn't reach his shimmering eyes. "No," he says.

"Can you sing?"

Jaskier hesitates. Through him, Geralt can see the fields of gently swaying wildflowers.

"Is that a request?"

Geralt shrugs. It's barely more than a twist of his shoulders. Jaskier smiles—a real smile, now, that makes his see-through eyes suddenly flash.

He sings all evening. He sings until Geralt slips into the first good sleep he's had in weeks. When he wakes, Jaskier is gone, and the air smells of wildflowers.

~

Lockerly is a tiny village. There's nothing here but sheep and pigs and—unfortunately for the riverside populace—a rather tenacious nest of drowners. Geralt sees them off easily, and refuses the villager's payment. He can tell from a single glance that the paltry purse of coins is all they have. Instead, he accepts the offer of a place to sleep for the night and a good meal from the middle-aged woman who'd posted the notice in the nearest town.

The woman—called Alayne—has a modest home on the edge of the village: a pretty little cottage with rose vines trailing up the brick and a garden full of herbs. She spots Geralt eyeing them, and promises he can take his pick before he leaves the next morning.

"It's the least I can do," she says.

Geralt wants to refuse—she's done so much compared to what little she has—but he knows that to do so would be an insult. So he thanks her, and makes a mental note to check which ingredients he's lacking before he goes to sleep that night.

The meal Alayne cooks smells delicious, and Geralt realises he hasn't eaten properly since the contract for the kitchenboy-turned-vampire. Since he first saw Jaskier again. As she serves him a second portion, she laughs.

"I'd forgotten what it's like to feed someone other than myself," she says. "It's not even been that long."

Geralt pauses. He thinks about the house—too big for one person—and the gardens that would certainly take a couple to tend. 

"I'm sorry," he says, swallowing down the mouthful of food. 

She gives him a sad smile. "Thank you," she says. "It's funny, that we can forget... but, we never forget, do we? They never let us forget."

Geralt thinks of the ghostly form of his friend. "They really don't," he agrees.

"Nine months," Alayne says, although he didn't ask. "She's only been gone nine months, but—" There are sparkling tears in her eyes, which she quickly blinks away.

Geralt is struck with a horrible thought. "The drowners?" He asks, carefully.

"Oh, no." Alayne shakes her head. "She was just... sick. She probably would have preferred it being a drowner, by the end."

"I'm sorry," Geralt says again. "I..." he swallows, feeling stupid—whatever Jaskier was to him, it pales in comparison to Alayne's grief.

She spots him hesitating. "Go on?" She prompts. 

"I lost my..." he pushes away his half empty plate. "My friend," he finishes. It doesn't feel quite right. 

"Oh," she says. "I'm so sorry."

He's about to brush away her words, to tell her he doesn't deserve her pity, but— it sticks. His eyes feel hot.

"I miss him," he admits. "And he wouldn't even know—"

They retire to the garden at the back of the house. The space is mostly given over to useful things—vegetables, herbs, a small flock of chickens—but there's a space in the very middle with two roughly hewn chairs which are bathed in the light of the setting sun. Alayne finds a bottle of strong mead, and together they sit, and drink, and discuss their losses.

"I haven't told anyone," Geralt says, feeling the mead making his lips sticky. "No one else knows."

"How long..?"

"Weeks," he says. "Just weeks."

Alayne places a hand to his arm.

"I let him down," Geralt says, slowly. "I thought— I didn't even see it, then. That he was there, and I wasn't. Not in the way he needed me." He peers out towards the horizon, where the sky is reddest. "He always just... came along. He agreed to help me even when he shouldn't have. I don't know why. He should have told me to fuck off." Finally, he turns to look at her. "Why didn't he?"

She chews on her lip. "It sounds like he cared for you a lot," she says. "And... Geralt, you will forgive me, but when you call him your friend..."

Geralt frowns. "Just friends," he says. This conversation feels oddly familiar.

"Right," she nods. "Just friends."

They talk until the sun has truly set, and the stars fill the sky above. The more time passes, the more Geralt feels his tongue loosen, the easier the words come. Perhaps it's how safe Alayne feels. Perhaps it's knowing that he'll never see her again. Perhaps it's that it feels like a relief, finally, saying it out loud. Perhaps it's just the mead.

She shows him to the guest bedroom. He tugs off his boots a little lopsidedly, then his clothes, then crawls beneath the quilt on the bed. He sighs, then rolls onto his side.

When he finds himself staring into a familiar, glowing face he's not even shocked. That is the mead; he feels a little numb, like he's floating in warm water.

"Just friends?"

Geralt can feel Jaskier's cool, tickling breath on his lips. He finds himself edging forwards. When their lips touch, it's like nothing at all. All Geralt can feel is tingles.

Jaskier laughs. There are sparkling, diamond tears on his cheeks.

"Oh, Geralt," he says. "It really is too late for that."

Tonight, at least, he doesn't leave. He doesn't seem to sleep, either, and the last thing Geralt sees when he drifts away is Jaskier staring at him.

It's only when Geralt wakes with the dawn that he realises that Jaskier had looked whole, for the first time. No blood. No wounds. Just him.

~

Running into Yen really is an accident, even if it's clear she doesn't believe him when he says so.

They talk through Ciri's education, and what they've been doing in their time apart, and how they both are, but it's clear that Yen can tell something is bothering him. They take two rooms in an inn for the evening, and once Ciri has been sent reluctantly to bed, Geralt tells her. He spits it out, quick and fast, to stop himself holding onto the secret any longer.

Yen frowns at him.

"No he's not," she says.

Geralt's already slow heart stops. He's sure he's misheard her. His ears ring.

"What?"

She sips at her drink, makes a disgusted face, then continues to drink regardless.

"Unless you're telling me he was killed in the past..." she pauses, counting, "three days, then... no. He's not."

"What?"

She sighs. "We saw him just outside of Maribor. He certainly seemed very much alive then. Who told you he was dead?"

"Someone at the academy," Geralt says, weakly.

"You didn't think to check?"

He looks at his ale. He should have checked. Fuck.

"He's been fucking—" he realises his voice is raised, and quickly quietens himself. "He's been fucking haunting me, Yen."

Yen's look of amusement turns to concern. "Haunting?" She repeats. "Haunting how?"

Geralt looks around, as if someone might be listening in to his confession. "He's been... turning up.  At camps, during hunts..."

"Like a dream?"

"Like a ghost, Yen."

She places her cup down. "You've seen him?"

"Yes."

"You've spoken to him?"

"Yes. He asked after you, in fact."

She sits back. "That's... concerning."

It feels an entirely inadequate way to describe how Geralt is feeling. "So what?" He says. "Am I mad?"

Yen purses her lips. "Or cursed. Who have you pissed off lately?"

"No one," Geralt says bitterly.

"Hmm." She looks doubtful. "Fine, then. You could have cursed yourself."

Geralt blinks at her. "Is that possible?"

She shrugs at him. "For anyone else,  I would have my doubts. But for you..." she raises her cup. "It wouldn't surprise me, no. You hear of our mutual friend's apparent death, and—sick with guilt—you refuse to seek further information. You convince itself it's your fault and, knowing you, you manage to do so in only a few minutes. You convince yourself so thoroughly  that you saddle yourself with a fairly run of the mill haunting curse, made more intense because of your connection to chaos. Were you in the possession of any unusual magical items? Any strange hunts?"

"No, noth—" Geralt pauses.  He thinks back to the moment he learned Jaskier was dead. Or: the moment he thought he'd learned he was dead. "No, there was," he says. "The man who told me gave me a note. He said it was from Jaskier."

"What did it say?"

"I don't know," Geralt said. "It burst into flames when I opened it. There was this... shape, inside."

Yen looks thoughtful. Then she reaches into her bag and pulls out a notebook and thick pencil. "Can you draw it?"

Geralt does his best. Drawing has never been his strong suit. When he's done, Yen pulls the notebook towards herself with a frown.

"It is a curse," she says. "Cheap, though. He probably picked this up from some... spell peddler. It's just a generic revenge spell."

"Revenge?"

She shrugs. "It's fairly simple. It taps into whatever it is you've done to piss off the caster—that would be Jaskier—and turns it against you. But they're short. There's not enough chaos in them to make them last longer than a few hours, at most." She looks up. "You were cursed by someone else," she says, "but the intensity of it... I suspect that was you."

Geralt is about to ask the obvious question—what did I do to piss off Jaskier?—when he realises that, of course, he knows. Jaskier's ghost, even if he was no more than the shadow of a curse, had made that clear. He'd realised it himself, in the moments between grief.

"Oh."

"You're not going to ask what you did?"

"I think I know."

She smiles at that. "Good. I'd hate to insult your intelligence by explaining it to you. Now you know he is not, in fact, dead, it should lift on its own."

"...Right."

She finishes her wine and stands. 

"I should make sure Ciri is actually asleep," she says. "We have an early start tomorrow." She goes to leave, then turns. "We saw him in Crenwall. It's about two day's ride East, following the main road."

Before he can say anything, she sweeps away.

Geralt peers from the window. It's completely dark outside. Too late to start a ride that will take two days, especially when the brief time he has with Ciri is so rare—and so precious.

He looks into the dregs of his beer and wonders what Jaskier would say. He sees off the drink, then heads upstairs to his own room. Tomorrow, he'll see Ciri off, and set off towards Crenwall. With any luck, they can all leave with the dawn.

~

In the end, Geralt doesn't even make it to Crenwall. He spends only a single night on the road—a night uninterrupted by spirits—and is riding through a market town the following morning when he hears a familiar voice drift from the tavern. He pulls Roach to a stop, and listens. It wouldn't be the first time he's seen Jaskier where he isn't, after all.

—everything we did, we saw, you turned your back on—

There's pain in Jaskier's voice like Geralt's never heard before. He remembers the curse; and who put it on him in the first place.

—that butcher burn—

It hurts. The words hurt. Part of him wonders if he hasn't suffered enough through the endless parade of ghosts: each grizzly death. Apparently not. As the words wash over him, he winces. He did this. However cruel Jaskier's words... they exist for a reason. Fuck.

Part of him wants to push the door open and rush in, just to see him. Just to know that this time, he's real. But that pain is too strong. To barge in now would just prove Jaskier right, he fears.

He tries to ignore the urge. He hitches Roach, and waits.

It doesn't take long. It's too early for a full set, and no doubt Jaskier has charmed the innkeeper into trading room and board for a song. It's something he's done countless times before, and Geralt knows through experience that he likes to leave them with a brief performance. Keeps them wanting more, he'd say. Inside the tavern, there's a smattering of applause from the early risers—or the  late sleepers—and then the door swings open and...

This is Jaskier. Of course it is.

Geralt strides forwards. Jaskier spots him immediately, and his expression shifts through fear and anger and relief then—

Geralt doesn't know what makes him do it. Perhaps it's the memory of the horror of that first ghost, or the tingling, tickling relief of the last. He grabs Jaskier around the waist, and kisses him.

Jaskier splutters. Geralt lets him go and steps back immediately, instantly regretting his decision, reminding himself that it was the curse that had wanted him, not the real bard. The real bard still hates him.

"You— no you fucking don't you piece of—"

Jaskier chases him, crashing into him with equal fervour, and suddenly they're kissing again, Jaskier's hands cupping Geralt's jaw. Geralt gasps against his lips but doesn't back away. It's awkward, and messy, and more than a little desperate, and when Jaskier finally releases him Geralt realises he isn't breathing.

"You," Jaskier pants, "have some fucking explaining to do."

"I thought you were dead."

This catches him mid-rant. "You— you what?"

"It's... a long story," Geralt says, eyes down. "Can we...?" He gestures back to the tavern behind them.

Jaskier peers at him. He relents.

"Fine," he says. "But you're buying breakfast. And lunch. And dinner." He stops. He looks Geralt up and down, almost like he's assessing him. "And breakfast again tomorrow if you're good."

"Wh—"

"Come on." Jaskier grabs his arm and pulls him back towards the tavern. "Tell me how I died."

~

Jaskier refuses to let him speak until they're sat at a table, each with a full pint.

"Right," he says. "What the fuck?"

"I thought you were dead."

"I gathered that part. Why?"

"I went to Oxenfurt looking for you. I didn't know where you were, so I asked a bard... he said you'd gone. That you'd passed on."

Jaskier groans. "Was he wearing a doublet the colour of baby shit with sleeves like church bells and an offensively trimmed moustache?" He asks, raising his eyebrows.

"How did you—"

Jaskier sighs. "Fucking Valdo," he says. "What a prick. May his balls drop off and be eaten by rabid kikimores." He shakes his head. "No, Geralt. I am not dead. Obviously."

"He said you'd gone to the other side!" Geralt cries.

"Well, yes," Jaskier says. "Oxenfurt was stinging me on pay so I transferred to the university in Lyria. They're academic rivals. Valdo's been pestering me about working for the enemy ever since."

"Oh."

"What a fucking shit-stir—" Jaskier falls silent. His eyes go very wide. "Shit, Geralt, did he give you a—"

"A note? Yeah, he did."

"...Fuck."

"Hmm."

"Did it... did it work?" Jaskier peers at him over his pint, apparently attempting to look contrite.

"Yes," Geralt says. "It did."

"And, um..." Jaskier looks abashed, at least. "What did it do?"

"You put a fucking curse on me without knowing what it did?" Geralt snaps, disbelieving.

"The seller said it was just a revenge curse!" Jaskier quickly clarifies, holding up his hands in surrender. "That it'd just... make you feel bad for a few hours." He spots Geralt's unamused expression. "Was that... not... what it did?"

Geralt stares at him. "You've been haunting me for weeks."

"...what?"

"Your ghost. Several of them. You want to know how you died? Fine. One was covered in blood. One was poisoned. One stabbed. One beheaded. One—"

"Fuck, okay, I get it." Jaskier rubs his eyes. "Shit."

"You spoke to me. You were angry, the first time."

Jaskier seems to be struggling to keep his gaze. "I was angry," he says. "I... I am angry. Fuck, Geralt, you heard the song."

Geralt's heart squeezes. "I heard the song."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to be that bad." He swallows. "The curse, I mean. Not the song. I meant the song. At least I did, when I wrote it."

"I'm sorry for making the curse that bad." Geralt feels a twist of remorse. "And the song. You wouldn't have done either if I didn't hurt you. And it was my guilt that made the curse last so long anyway."

"Gods," Jaskier laughs, hollowly. "We fucked it."

Geralt takes a drink at that. "We did."

"What happened?" Jaskier asks. "With the ghosts?"

"We... spoke. A lot. Eventually. I worked it out. Why you were so hurt. Why losing you hurt me so much that your ghost was following me around."

"... Oh."

"I tried to kiss you." Geralt feels his cheeks prickling. Even his staunch self-control can't keep the flush back. "It was like... like ice. Like a breeze. Like nothing, and— you said it was too late."

Jaskier too is blushing. He pushes a long strand of hair out of his eyes, and Geralt suddenly regrets not being there in that awkward in-between stage, when he was still growing it out. Jaskier reaches across the table, placing his hand gently over Geralt's. His fingers twitch. The tips feel smooth and shiny.

"It's not too late," Jaskier says, his voice so low that only Geralt's enhanced hearing could ever pick it out. "Not if... not if you want to try again?"

"You'd want that?"

"I want..." Jaskier shakes his head and squeezes Geralt's hand. "I've wanted that for over two decades, Geralt. You ripping out my heart and pissing all over it doesn't change that, even if it should."

Geralt stares at him. "Two decades?"

"Give or take." 

Geralt threads their fingers together. It feels good to feel Jaskier again, not just chasing the shimmering, untouchable afterglow of him.

"But..." Jaskier continues.

"Yes?"

"But we need to change. Both of us. I can't—" Jaskier swallows. "I can't pretend, anymore. And you don't get to hurt me anymore, either. We need to talk." He grins. "I assume weeks of being haunted by me have at least begun to teach you a little more about talking about your feelings?"

Geralt's lips twitch. "A little."

"Good." Jaskier pushes aside his tankard with his free hand and leans forward. "So. You tried to kiss my ghost?"

Geralt mirrors him. "He was in my bed."

"Which explains why you kissed me earlier," he says. "Wanted to see how it really felt?"

"I kissed you," Geralt says, voice low, "because I wanted to know what it's like to kiss you. Because I—" he swallows. Jaskier's eyes are huge, and blue. "Because I care for you. A lot."

Jaskier's lips quirk. "Is this you talking about your feelings?"

"This is me trying."

The quirked smile melds into a real grin. He pushes forwards, and presses their lips together. This time it's soft, and sure, and lingering. When Jaskier finally breaks the kiss, he rests their foreheads together, mouths brushing, breaths mingling. He's so warm. He sighs.

“It’s about time.”

[ascendingconures]

MSPaint Michael dump

[itty-bitty-sunshine]

im curious, how did perkeo become immortal? you say theyre the dont age dont die type but theyve still aged to the point of an average adult. so was there a point where they became immortal? were they born immortal but still aged to the point where they seemed like the average human then stopped?

this is a bit more morbid but im curious about this too

how severe can injuries get if they cant die? how does their body handle situations where the average person would bleed out? would they heal faster? would they just have infinite blood? what if they got into a coma? would they ever wake up? or is it just not possible? how would they heal from injuries that would make it impossible for the average person to come back?

if youre not willing to answer the second stuff thats fine, im just really curious

They do not remember

The earliest memory they have is on the kingdom, and they were already a grown person by then

They remember kneeling, the agreement made with the king

They remember tests, and them stopping with lack of results

They remember doing their job afterwards, and the years that went on as they remained the same

They remember making people smile and laugh and how they cherished that feeling more than anything

That does not mean they never had a family, though

Morbid details under cut

Very. They had to crawl their way out of things no human could even dream of surviving, things no one should have survived — or even lived enough through it as it happened

They can still get dizzy, they can still faint, things can go to black, but eventually their brain will pull them back awake again. Die, but come back

The wound would close, but they can bleed out. They can feel the dizziness, the cold, the pain. If severe enough, they could pass out — either until the wound closes or until their brain decides it gotta keep fighting still. That said, they very likely could deal with a stab wound without passing out if outside factors are not included (if anything, they would just be annoyed)

Sewing a wound would likely make it close faster than leaving it alone

Their heart would always start beating again even after stopping, so I guess you could say they have infinite blood?

They would wake up from a coma I'm pretty sure (how long it would take would depend on the cause), unless it was like, medically induced (which would mean constant upkeep to keep em like that) because yk. Strong drugs

They do heal from injuries that would be impossible for a normal person to survive. Their body puts itself back together – and when it can't, it just makes a new part to compensate

So, for example: let's say they get decapitated. They could put the head back on the neck, and the body would work to glue the two together again

Now, let's say they lost a leg and for some reason could not try to put the leg back in place: then the body would make a new leg. It would take a lot longer, and be infinitely more painful, but it would be back in place one way or another

(Now for what happens to the lost limb — idk it probably rots as the body regens. They are already immortal, might as well throw some nonsense in the mix)

How can they grab their own head and put it back? Idk that's too much to keep track of. Maybe magic who knows

Also! Burned skin will heal and fade, take that was you will

Essentially I would say it's just kind of nightmarish but they do heal pretty fast (how fast? Idk, but pretty fast), and that they would also be pretty used to some level of pain rn

[quaranmine]

One more ask, lol.

Something just occurred to me that really drives home just how unsolvable this whole thing was.  Grian found Mumbo on pure accident, which just drives home the fact that Grian is not in control.  This is something you made clear through the narrative and in the authors notes. 

It had to be an accident.  Because I'm think back to when Grian and Scar were analyzing the initial search.  They both saw fault with the fact that they focused the search on Cloud Lake without even considering Pinnacles, and the fact that Mumbo was given a permit for a Cloud Lake, a closed trail, in the first place.

But Mumbo was SO FAR off trail in such a tricky, hidden spot that, EVEN IF the initial search would have led them to Pinnacles, EVEN IF they would have found the bag and the bike, EVEN IF Mumbo had been given a permit for Pinnacles instead of Cloud Lake from the very start... it might not have mattered.  It might have already been too late.  They STILL might not have been able to find him alive, or even at all, before the area was evacuated for the fire.

Just... there really was no rhyme or reason.  No hidden cause.  No fault.  Just...

There's this Irish folk song I'm low-key obsessed with in which the countryside is described as "where nature is seen both majestic and savage." 

Mumbo died due to the majestic, savage nature of... well.  Nature. 

And there's nothing anyone could have done.  

(I hope it's clear that I'm using the word "savage" as an adjective describing a fierce, violent force of nature and not... other contexts 😬)

Yes, exactly! Actually putting this under a cut it got long lol

Not going to lie I did Worry a few times throughout writing this about having a plot that was so heavily dependent on accidents. Like, is it undermining character agency to have significant things just happen? Do my characters drive the plot or is it just happening to them? The other hikers finding Mumbo's bike in chapter 3/4 was an accident. Most of the events of chapter 11 were an accident.

But genuinely from a real-life perspective...that's how things just happen. This story is kind of a non-mystery mystery. It's a mystery in the sense that we don't know where Mumbo is or what happened. But it's not a mystery in the sense that is some conspiracy to be unraveled, a killer to be arrested, etc. I talked about this in another ask a few weeks ago about how I mystery write, but this fic had a lot of unique barriers to it. Firstly, from a purely practical plot perspective, Grian has like nothing to work with. He has no access to any SAR tools. He doesn't have access to documents (at first lmao) or any other type of hard copy research. He cannot go out and interview people or do anything else a mystery protagonist would typically do to find "clues" because he's alone in a fire lookout. That's it. That's the setting. There is a guy who is alone in the wilderness who wants to find someone.....out of hundreds of square miles of nothing. With no real tools except his own two feet, a map, and a new friend who can only give voiceover help.

So.....there's already a hard limit on what he can reasonably do without the narrative helping him out a little. And I think I did my best harnessing everything he could do on his own. Now, Grian also THINKS he can solve it all himself. He sees no issue with this set-up. As the author though I'm forced to consider HOW he plans to do all this though lol. So again from a reasonable perspective, he ain't working with much. He himself would not have considered Pinnacles if the bike didn't get found. He might have pieced together that Mumbo took a different trail, but he would've had no way to figure out which one. Meanwhile, I just focused on building the plot of his personal journey. I also just focused on the parallels between how Mumbo got to the place he was and how Grian ended up there too.

Also speaking of the initial search at Cloud Lake, I want to highlight a case I listened to on the Out Alive podcast from Backpacker Magazine. It's the episode "Finding Life on the Edge of Death" about Andrew Devers who was missing for 9 days on the Pratt River Trail in Oregon in 2021 (and survived.) First of all, excellent episode. Also, I did not listen to this until after I had worked out the plot, but it really strengthened my conviction in the storyline I had laid out. And I did end up referencing something from this episode in chapter 10. Specificaly, Andrew went hiking alone on a trail that recently had a landslide. Because the environment was so drastically changed, when he turned around to hike back he couldn't find his way at all. And I was like, yeah. That's why Mumbo's search continued to stay in the same area even though the trail was closed. Because this happens. They thought he lost the original trail in the landslide, just like this guy did. They thought that the trail being closed actually increased his chances of being lost there because it increased his chances of losing his way. They just didn't realize he actually turned around and went somewhere else. No conspiracy. Just a misguided assumption on the situation.

Also it really is horrifying how difficult it is to find people in the wilderness. So many people who go missing are found months or even years later on accident. I'm also reminded of the tragic case of Geraldine Largay, who died after going missing on the Appalachian trail. She survived 26 days. Search teams got within a 100 yards of her location, but they didn't find her body until two years later. She was only two miles off-trail, and only 30 mins walk from a road. She got turned around after simply stepping off trail to use the restroom. It hurts my heart so much. More recently last November, in my own beloved Big Bend National Park, Christy Perry went missing on the Lost Mine Trail for 8 days and was later found alive. She was so lost but only 1/4 a mile off-trail. I've been on that trail many times. I've....um.....been off-trail on that trial many times....Anyway, I was keeping an eye on updates constantly hoping she'd be found because it looked so bad for her, but she was fortuantely okay.

Anyway I guess my point is that people really do get hopelessly lost all the time while being close to trails, and being close to trail doesn't mean someone will be found quickly or at all. And in Mumbo's case...he wasn't anywhere where people thought he might be. Grian's mission was a needle in a haystack. If I were truly being realistic, he wouldn't have found him at all, but that's where I'm using narrative power.

So yeah. Accidents. Sometimes you're just not in control. Sometimes bad things happen. Nature majestic and savage indeed....

[snekdood]

even if you dont believe that you only live once you should live like you do imo

[be-good-to-bugs]

maybe i WILL get to move back home

[crowithy]

Might be writing something about Micheal soon since I'm not at home to work on art...

[tvdfan23]

I have the apartment we want on hold and sent all the paperwork over and just waiting for the agent to give the all clear 😬

[evie-sturns]

𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘥 - 𝘔𝘢𝘵𝘵 𝘚𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘰

summary: when you and matt first started dating, you made a rule, that you two would never go to sleep mad at each other, but tonight a heated argument breaks that rule.

warnings: arguing, angst?, crying, swearing, fluff.

------------------⋆ ★⋆ ★⋆ ★⋆ ★⋆ ★--------------———

me and matt don't fight often, in our 4 months of being together we've only bickered, aside from the odd big argument. we always make up by the end of the day because of our rule. never fall asleep angry with each other.

9:48pm

"matt i promise, i didn't mean to." i sigh, i'm exhausted after our arguing, which has been going on for 45 minutes.

"you didn't mean to search my phone, im sure." he scoffs, grabbing his phone and checking the time.

"i fucking didn't matt, your phone was being spammed every 2 seconds so i picked it up, then you came in, its not my fault it looked different from how it actually was."

i say, my voice raising as i go to walk away, but matt grabs my wrist, yanking me back towards him. "so all the other apps that had been opened weren't you hm?"

he says glaring down at me, matt never loosens his painful grip, i don't think he even realises he's hurting me. his rings leave red marks on my arm.

"im going to sleep matthew." i say, my voice barely audible and wobbling.

matt's grip softens, allowing me to pull away.

i run upstairs, slamming the door to the bedroom behind me as i hold back my tears.

i rarely cry, matt's only seen me cry a handful of times meaning its a shock for him each time i do.

i strip down to just a tank top and panties before crawling into bed, shutting my eyes, hoping to sleep off the built-up frustration inside me.

just as i feel myself drifting to sleep the door swings open, followed by matt's angry stomps. he rips down the covers and plops himself in, before yanking them back up.

after a few minutes i roll over, matts back is facing me. i reach out a hand to grab his, he pushes me off. "dude don't fucking touch me?" matt says, somehow moving further away from me.

that'll do it.

i climb out of bed, grabbing my pillow as i walk over to the small basket in the corner of our room, filled with blankets from our previous movie nights. i pull up a blanket into my arms as tears fill my waterline. matt flicks on the lamp which rests on our bedside table, a warm yellow light fills the room.

"what the fuck are you doing this time." matt says, squinting his eyes.

i erupt into sobs, my face scrunching as tears soak my face. through my blurred vision, i can partially see concern and worry painted across matts face. i have a pillow under my arm, a blanket in my other and im clutching matts pug stuffed animal, which we share now.

i walk out of the bedroom, shutting the door softly behind me before sprinting downstairs, i place my pillow down on the small couch, and lay down, pulling the grey blanket over me and cuddling the pug to my chest, which shortly gets damp from my tears.

11:34pm

i dont know how long ive been asleep, or even where i am, but i'm woken up from matts arms around me, holding me in a bridal position. "matt..?" i say, looking up at him through my swollen eyes.

"i know gorgeous, theres no heating down here its too cold for you sweetheart." matt says, his voice soft and quiet.

my eyebrows furrow, did we even fight? or did i dream it? i look down at my wrist, which is red from where matt grabbed me earlier,

we fought.

matt carries me upstairs, his grip on me is so gentle i cant even comprehend how I'm being held up right now.

he opens our bedroom door with his elbow, the room is pristine, cleaner than I've ever seen it. "why is it so tidy in here.." i squeeze out, my voice raspy. matt clears his throat "oh-.. uh couldn't sleep so i cleaned.."

he pulls back the covers, readjusting the pillow with one hand before laying me down. "do you want me to come in the bed with you or are you happy by yourself.." matt says, his voice timid.

"you can come in.." i say, wide awake now and fully aware of everything thats happened in the past 3 hours.

matt lies down next to me, his body tense.

"im really sorry, i feel so guilty." matt says, tilting his head to look over at me. i nod, "it was my fault too." i say, fidgeting with my nails.

"no its not, i overreacted so much i don't even know what went over me, i regret it so much." matts voice shakes.

"i feel like shit for even touching you." matt says, "and i'm sorry for waking you up but i didnt want to break our rule.."

"huh?" i say, looking over at him, our eyes making eye contact.

"no going to bed angry with eachother.." he says with a small laugh.

i roll over to face him, a wide smile spread across my face. "oh matt.." i say, climbing ontop of him and laying down, burying my face on his shoulder and wrapping my arms around, underneath him.

he hugs me back with a sigh of relief, but somethings different,

"matt! where are your rings?" i say, sitting up on his torso and grabbing his hand.

"i couldn't even look at them without feeling guilty, i know they dug into your arm.."

------------------⋆ ★⋆ ★⋆ ★⋆ ★⋆ ★--------------———

i love this i was in such a writey mood

[tortademaracuya]

I'm still so mad at convenience store woman

[ratvich]

[mrfoox]

I wish there was some easy/quick way to fix me

[nanzyn]

i have been doing non-stop editing on this fic for the past eh 3 ish days i really just need to drop it already im too busy to have this on my plate as well as everything else going on rn

[chrolloluvr]

Adam, Mammon, Alastor and Lucifer with a insecure S/o

💋ྀིྀིAdam, Mammon, Alastor, Stolas and Lucifer w/ Insecure S/O 💋ྀིྀི

Note: Yesss i love this request!! As somebody who is insecure about quite a few things I think this is so cute <3 🥰 Also I hope you don't mind me adding Stolas <3

Female!reader, GenderNeutral!Reader for Stolas <3

Warnings: Cussing, mentions of sex

Mammon 💸:

He does not grasp the concept of insecure. Why be insecure when your with him? He chose you, right? He is extremely picky, so what is there to worry about? Why are you insecure? To him you are adorable, so who cares?

He may notice you are feeling down lately, or that you have been avoiding him, which agitates him to no end.

So at first, he will have you bottle up your insecurity, just so that he can be your big savior, and make you feel loved by him.

When you tell him exactly what you are insecure about, he audibly laughs. Well, he doesn't mean to make you upset or anything, but like, are you being serious?

He will say things like:

"Babe, what the fack? you look hot, theres no need to beat around the goddamn bush."

"What, is it your (insert insecurity)? cmon, don't be such a sour puss. You look just fine to me."

"Cmon sweets, whats on ya mind? How about we go out to the restaurant you love, yeah?"

He will go to that restaurant, even though he hates it. He just does not like seeing his little trophy upset or visibly irked. Even if there is Paparazzi around, he will hide them from you, or bribe them to leave.

His favorite insecurity on you would have to be your thighs. He loves squeezing them, jiggling them, putting his head between them, seeing them move when you walk, etc. If you have bigger ones, he thinks that one of, if not the best physical quality about you. He will spend his time ranting to you while snug in your legs about how annoying his newest stars are, or how Ozzie did this, or Fizzarolli did that-

Overall, he will make sure you dont go on with that contentious bullshit ever again. He cant have his favorite little lady upset, can he?

Adam 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪:

He is Adam, the first man, he does not ever feel insecure. he never makes mistakes.

But in reality, he has felt insecure. Especially after his two wives left him for the. same. man.

He does not notice until a while later that you are upset. He thinks you are happy all the time because of him. But he's basically your husband, so he will notice things about you, that you don't even know about yourself (same as mammon)

When you tell him you are insecure, he coddles you, and threats you like you're an infant

He will say things like:

"Your insecure? About what? You have to be lying babe, you look perfect to me."

"Relax babe, im kidding, so its your (insert insecurity)? Oh, are you joking?"

"How about... you and me do a little something something, hm?"

(He is a sex deviant, so he will always bring that up.)

He tries to make it up to you by putting on your favorite movie, and bringing you your favorite snacks. But he ends up eating most of them himself...

But anyways, his favorite insecurity is your ass. He likes squeezing it, spanking it, etc. Even if it small, he likes it and thinks its cute. He will randomly pick you up and throw you over his shoulder and just, spank it, and put you down??

So overall, he is okay at comforting you, but dont come running to him unless you dont want things to turn somehow sexual.

Alastor 🎶:

He has never felt insecure in his twisted mind.

He will notice immediately that you are upset about something. He takes action fairly quickly, by rubbing your shoulders, etc.

When you tell him you are insecure, he is very understanding. You are his dearest, so he wants to take care of you, and make you feel like an angel.

While he may not understand insecurity himself, he understands you are disarmed, and that bothers him greatly.

He will say things like:

"My love, don't fret about these regal thoughts. What are you feeling down about now?"

"Is this about your (insert insecurity)? If so, that is silly nonsense, my dear. You know I do not mind."

"How about, we take a stroll. Maybe we could stop by Rosie, she sure knows how to cheer you up, hm?"

He tries his best to make you feel better, because your feelings reflect on him. While it may not seem so on the outside, his heart tears when he sees you like this.

His favorite insecurity has to be your hip dips. He thinks they make you look very feminine and womanlike, which he likes. He likes to run his hands over them, enjoying the way his fingers sink into them.

So overall, Alastor makes you feel very loved and cared for. You will never feel discontent as long as he is in your vicinity.

Lucifer 𓆩𓆪:

He has felt insecure a lot. From being casted down into Hell, to his wife somewhat recently leaving him, (to his height), he knows what it feels like

But since meeting you, he is very attentive over you.

So he notices very quickly that you are upset.

When the time comes to tell him that you are insecure, (because he kept asking you frantically whats wrong), He is very understanding.

He will say things like:

"Seriously? You? Insecure? Well we cant have that here, now can we?"

"Its your (insert insecurity)? Its ok honey, I love you just how you are."

"Honey, how about the two of us stay home for the day, hm?"

He will stay by your side a lot more often now that you told him that. He is a very doting and worried lover like Stolas, so he wants you to feel comfortable with yourself.

His favorite insecurity of your is also your thighs. Big or small, he loves them. His favorite is when his head and cheeks are squished against them. Or when he's eating you out, and he feels the warmth smothering his face. He loves the way they move when you walk as well like Mammon.

So overall, he knows what it is like to be insecure. He wants you to feel loved, and like you are cherished by him.

Stolas 𓅪:

Feels insecure a lot like Lucifer. WIth his (ex)wife, concerning his daughter, etc.

He also will notice your changes instantly. SO he will constantly ask if something is wrong. When it comes to you being upset, he will be very combative in telling him.

So when you tell him you are insecure, he feels for you. He will hold you close, and let you lay on top of his fluffy, feathered body.

He will say things like:

"Sweetheart, what is troubling you so much? I am always by your side, you know. So if you want to talk, we can."

"Your (insert insecurity)? But they are beautiful! You don't have to worry my owlette."

"How about we watch a movie? That always seems to cheer you up."

He is very concerned about you, and just wants to make you happy. That is his duty in his mind. If he cant make the rest of his family happy, he can surely make you happy, right?

His favorite insecurity of yours is stretch marks. He likes them, and he thinks they look like cute little tiger cub stripes. He will run his slender fingers over them, making you shiver in the process. He believes they are like pieces of art, just all over your body.

So in his mind, you are perfect. He is always going to love you, insecurity through and through. You are his lover.

[s0dium]

Innocent things that turn JJK men on

A/n: This is more fluff then it is smut, but I hope you guys enjoy <3 Also thank you for 7.5k guys

Characters: Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Toji fushiguro, Yuuta Okkatsu

Warnings: Making out, bonerz lol, mentions of breeding and pregnancy, size kink, cuddling, fluff

~

Gojo Satoru- kissing

He can’t help it

Your lips are just so soft and feel so good on his

And the whines that escape your pretty mouth go straight to his dick

“Finally, that traffic was insane.” You sigh, unbuckling your seat belt and moving toward the door. But before you do a hand stops you, pulling your arm gently back to your seat.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Gojo coos, tapping his lips with his index finger. You roll your eyes and lean in with a smile as you lips encase his.

The kiss is soft and slow; Gojo needn’t even to swipe his tongue along the bottom of your lip to ask for permission, you willingly welcome the warm muscle into your mouth. You know each others mouths well enough to avoid clashing teeth and understand the pace eachother likes.

A hand snakes it’s way into the back of your head, pulling you in closer to Gojo a making a whine leave your lips. Shivers rack Gojos back at the sound and he sharply inhales. When you pill back a string of spit connects both of your lips and theres this look on Gojos face, like he's desperate.

You eyes glance down to in between his legs, taking note of the apparent buldge pressing against his pants.

"Satoru are you....?"

"Shut up."

Geto Suguru- When you're with kids

Something about the way you interact with kids, how kind you are, how motherly you act

When you gush over a baby, and when he sees how happy you look holding one,

Geto cant help but want to give you one of his own

And he knows you'd just look so beautiful stuffed with his cum

"Hey, it will be alright." You speak sweetly, kneeling down to scoop the lost toodler in your arms and bring them close to your chest. "Dont worry we will find your daddy"

The child nods, giving a final hiccup before burying hits face into the crook of your neck and stopping their cries.

Geto was amazed. You had only just met the kid in the park and you had already managed to calm them down. He could only watch as you continued to embrace the child, stroking their hair.

Would you treat you're child like that if you had one of your own? He knows you would. You'd be the perfect mother, the perfect wife. You'd prepare lunches, just as you already did for Geto. And god, he can only imagine how beautiful you'd look, belly round with his kids, tits enlarged from the hormones.

Well, he knows what you're doing after this.

Toji fushiguro- When you wear his clothes

You don't intend to turn him on when you wear is giant black tshirt, you do it because its comfy

but it ends up turning him on anyway

"Jesus christ babe."

You look up from your phone, your eyes falling on the tall man infront of you.

"What?" You tilt your head and Toji rolls his eyes.

"You know what. You're wearing my tshirt."

You look down and mouth a silent 'oh.' Toji walks foward until he’s up against the edge of the bed where you are. He brings a hand to your chin, tilting your face up so your looking up at him.

“Ya look pretty.” He speaks with a wolffish grin on his face. He runs his thump over your lip before dipping the digit in to your mouth and pressing on your tongue. You whine and stare up at him with doughy eyes.

“Lay on your back.”

Yuuta Okkastsu- Cuddling

It’s probably the size difference that turns him on, how small you are in his arms

Or it could be how warm you are, how good you smell, how pretty you look up close. The list goes on.

One second your cuddling up next to him, the next, Yuuta has a raging boner and needs to be buried inside you ASAP

"S'cold" You whine, scooching your self closer to Yuutas warm body so your back presses against his chest. But as you do so, your ass brushes against his crotch making him stifle a groan.

You turn you're head back in confusion.

"You ok Yuu?"

Yuuta gulps harshly, trying his best to think of something else other then the plush of your ass against his dick.

"Yup" He chokes out. "Totally fine."

[beary-rambles]

Through it all, its still you

r.q: hellooo lovlieee omg i am so inlove with your newest fic with jacaerys, my jaw was on the ground. could I request a fic with jacaerys were it's during the war between blacks and greens and your his betrothed. He goes north and you stay in dragonstone, but then you get taken by the greens. Everyone thinks your dead but you manage to escape and bond with a dragon. then when jacaerys is fighting against the greens, you Show up with your dragon and fight this epic battle. omg I got so carried away sorryyy. maybe with some fluff at the end ?? anyways take care <3

w.c: 4.2k (god i love writing for jace)

c.w: tyrell!reader, written with f!reader in mind but i dont believe theres any mention of gender of reader if so barely, angst, FLUFF! happy ending though it takes awhile to get there, poorly written battle scene, blue fire breathing dragon :3, not proofread

masterlist

You had not known how long you were sitting in the silence of your room. Usually dragonstone, though you had not been there for very long, was booming with life, jacaerys and lucerys arguing with one another and joffrey laughing, the babies crying or laughing at nothing, baela and rhaena chatting together. But today there was nothing but somber silence. Lucerys was dead. Though you did not know him as well as everyone here did, your heart ached at the thought of the young boy being gone. 

Daemon and rhaenyra had basically locked themselves in the council room after informing you of the news. You worried for them especially after seeing how angry and heartbroken they looked but the person you worried for most was jacaerys. He was off in the north oblivious to what had been happening here. You felt sick to your stomach as you imagined his face finding out the news. He had confided in you before he left. He worried for lucerys and how he would fare on his trip to storm's end and you helped assure him lucerys would be alright. 

You sit in your nightgown clutching hard onto the necklace jacaerys had given you early on into your courtship. 

You had been promised to jacaerys when you were very young much to the dismay of alicent and her father. You were your fathers only daughter and due to the fact he had no uncles, no cousins, no nephews and no direct other male family members you were to inherit everything in highgarden once he passed. You were immediately very fond of jacaerys as soon as the two of you met in the keep. Though the two of you did not get to spend as much time together as you were soon taken back to the highgarden after a couple moon cycles. Before you had left the keep however he had given you this necklace. It was a metal carving of a dragon painted in the colors of his dragon vermax. He had told you he hoped while you were apart you could feel protected by him with his dragon and you cried into his shoulder before you were soon dragged off and did not get to see him for many years. 

Soon enough your name day came and you turned eight and ten and were granted the ability to go to Dragonstone to meet with jacaerys and begin wedding preparations with rhaenyra. What you nor your father had known is that soon war would strike. You knew tensions were high between the family especially after attending the families final dinner where you help jacaerys place ointment on his cheek after aemond had punched him but you did not think things would turn out so horrid for the family. 

So deeply lost in your thoughts you do not notice the quiet footsteps entering your room through an opened window in your room until something a stab punctures your arm and a hand covers your scream before a heavy object slams into your head knocking you out cold. He allows you to sit out cold for a bit, letting your blood pool on the ground soaking your gown and your necklace. While you're passed out the mysterious man scoops you up into his arms, ripping the necklace from your neck and tosses it into the pool of blood before he carefully manages to carry you out through the window and down to an awaiting boat with a couple other masked men who help him chain you down and soon sail away, the image of dragonstone fading farther and farther away. 

Only hours later does jacaerys land back on dragonstone hoping to be greeted by you. Happy that he had been able to secure all the alliances for his mother and felt full of pride when he imagined how happy you would be. What he did not expect when he entered the main room was a somber atmosphere, he notices rhaena has fresh tears sliding off her face and baela attempting to comfort her. Joffrey clung to his rhaenyra side also seeming to be crying. He quickly looks over at daemon who is staring right back at him. “What has happened? Where is lucerys? Where is my betrothed? Tell me at once.” rhaenyra makes her way over to him and clings to him, shoving her face in his neck and giving him a kiss on the cheek. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.” he refuses to be true, it can't be true. But when daemon walks over to the pair and opens up his hand to show the necklace jacaerys had given you all those years ago, covered in your blood.

When you open your eyes the first thing you notice is how much your arm hurts, you groan and grab your arm. The sound of a screeching chair and the quick fleeing of the room meets your ears as you sit up and notice your sitting in a very familiar room. This is the room that you had stayed in during your time in the keep, looking exactly how you left it. A part of you is telling you this is a dream, you reach your hand up to wrap around your necklace your grow frantic as you realize it is not there. You feel around the bed and look upon the dresser next to you but there is nothing. In your haste the door opens and your head shoots up. “You are finally awake.” 

“Where is my necklace?” alicent looks at criston next to her who shakes his head, “you did not come wearing a necklace miss.” you groan and immediately try to stand out from bed but immediately feel so dizzy you have to sit back down, your arm throbbing heavily. “What did you do to me?”

Alicent takes a hesitant step closer to you, her arms out as if to comfort you, “you should relax.” “asking me to relax after you kidnap me, are you insane?” you are unable to control your temper as you spit your words at her. Criston immediately clutches his sword and takes a step forward, “that is no way to-” alicent gives him a pointed look and he immediately deflates taking a step back. She hesitantly makes her way to the end of the bed and sits on it looking at you. “I simply wish to speak with you. “So you decide to kidnap me, that makes perfect sense.” you can tell she's irritated at you but does not let it show on her face as she takes a deep breath, a somber look on her face though you cannot tell if it is serious. 

“With your fathers passing everything in highgarden has been left to you, we believe it is in your best interest to declare house tyrell for aegon-” “my father is dead?” you cannot handle the influx of emotions you feel as your hand clenches around the space where your hanging dragon should be craving the feeling of the cold metal and sharp edges on your skin. She nods, placing her hand on your knee and for some reason you let her, the look in her eyes tells you she feels sorry having to break this news to you herself. “Yesterday night in his sleep, his final wish was for you to have highgarden. He stated it to be so.” all you can do is look down, your eyes clouding and you begin to crave the presence of jacaerys. Taking you silence as an opportunity to continue alicent begins to speak, “I care, not only about you, but about the future of your house which is why you should declare for aegon-” “you are asking me to declare for him? I knew you were crazy but this is just insanity.”

Though your face is covered in tears it does not hide the furious look you have on your face as you push her hand away from you and hug your knees to your chest. “It is the best path for you and your house my dear you must believe me i only wish the best for you. And should you do this you will be a lovely addition to our family. I am looking for a wife for my son daeron.” 

“I am already betrothed. You know this.” she shakes her head and stretches out further on the bed attempting to touch you once again, “you must understand-” “i would rather you kill me than marry your stupid hightower son and declare for that pig wearing a false crown on his head.” 

The room goes silent and she sighs and stands, fixing her dress before moving to leave the room. As she stands by the door she turns back to you, “I hope you will one day change your mind.” “I will not.” you quickly spit at her before she and criston leave the room leaving you trapped in there. All you can do is sit and cry in your bed, you miss jacaerys, you miss your father, you even miss dragonstone. You spend that whole day and night in your room praying that jacaerys was alright, you knew it is foolish to wish he could climb though the window to save you but the childish part of you dreamed he would come to your rescue. 

His foot taps on the floor in rapid succession. Jacaerys finds he can barely sit still these days. He cannot believe you were ripped from his hands so quickly. Though many expected him to lock himself in his room and cry for days mourning the loss of the love of his life and his younger brother he did not even shed a tear. Even at the funeral for the two of you the worst he got was glassy eyed as he clung onto his brother's robe and your necklace which he has begun wearing. It was as if he became a shell of himself, only speaking when spoken to and only truly wished to speak time planning out the moves of the war with daemon. Rhaenyra grew more and more concerned and distressed over her son as the days passed. Whenever she would go and try to talk to him she would only be greeted by his dead eyes and his emotionless words and she felt as though she lost two of her sons not just the one. 

Due to his erratic emotions, Jacaerys could not decipher how he felt. Grief? Anger? Sadness? Spite? All of the above? He had no clue. But in his mind he had no time to feel anything. He had a duty to make sure his mother won this war and he could deal with his feelings later. He tried to ignore that heart clenching feeling everytime he wrapped his hand around the dragon necklace. The selfish part of him believes you are still alive, in his defense there was no body, just a large pool of blood soaking the floor, the room had been bare and mostly untouched which led daemon to conclude it happened without and fight and quickly. If you were truly dead it gave him a bit of piece you had not been put through any sort of torture or torment as daemon seemingly had put halenas kid through when he sent out blood and cheese. 

He has many regrets and will hate himself for the rest of his life, he let his mother down, he was a bad brother and worst of all he failed to protect you, the one he had sworn to protect forever. He wont allow himself to mourn you, or mourn anyone for that matter. The only thing that mattered was the war and when daemon once again called him in the council room he soundlessly followed. He would at least avenge you in any way he would. He wanted them to feel the pain they had put him through, they put his mother through, he wanted to hurt them so badly he could barely contain himself but he must be rational despite how hard it is. Whenever he looked at the dragon on his neck he could only think of you and he grew angrier with himself. He had to avenge you. No matter what. 

The days in the keep are boring. For the first few days all you do is sit on your bed crying. Whenever a guard entered your room to bring you food you never ate any of it. The only time anything happened all you could hear was screams and cries but they were so distant you did not know what was happening. You only found out when aemond had come to integrate you about the incident. Asking if you had somehow let this ‘blood and cheese’ into the keep so they could kill one of halenas kids. You were mortified and said you had no clue. After a bit of pushing and reports from the guards who were stationed outside your room there was no way you could have done anything and they promptly left. The rest of your days continued the same with you not if so barely eating until it became too much and alicent showed up to your room. “You must eat.” you scoff, you had finally gained your strength back and were sitting at one of the tables in the room with a book in your hands. “I don't need to do anything.” She sighs and looks around the room. You take notice of the box she holds in her hands along with a bowl of what looks like fruits in it. “What is that?” 

She looks down at her hands and lets out an oh before looking back at you hopefully. “I.. was hoping you would play cyvasse with me..” she trails off and for a moment you notice how young she truly is. Much closer in age to not only yourself but her oldest son and all of her children forced into a role she is not fit for. A wave of sympathy falls upon you and she continues, “i have no one to play with, aemond is far too busy haelena cannot bring herself to get out bed and obviously aegon does not know how to play-” “ill play.”

She looks at you shocked as if she had been expecting you to turn her away and tell her no. “Though I should warn you that I have not lost a game in a very long time, I am a fierce competitor.” a smile graces her face and she nods quickly moving to sit down across from you and sets up the board. “I have not lost in forever either dear. I'm sure I will not lose to you.” you close your book and toss it towards the bed and shake your head at her. “I would like to see you try.” 

A comfortable silence falls over the two of you as you two begin to play. So lost in the game you occasionally pop a piece of fruit in your mouth. She was right, she is very tough competition but you can hold your own against her causing her to sit and think for long periods at a time. “It's a bit stuffy in here don't you think?” you lift your gaze from the board and up at her as you shrug, “if it is i do not notice it.” as you look back down at the board she hums and stands to open up one of the windows before moving to sit back down. “I hope you have thought about what I told you.” you sit still for a moment before moving on of your pieces and leaning back to look at her. “I have.” a hopeful look crosses her face, “and i will continue to tell you no.” she sighs and stares down at the board. Many more silent moments pass before the door slams open and the two of you look at it alarmed. 

“Ser Cole, what's wrong?” “You must come quickly with me, my queen, the prince has found something.” she stands alarmed and rushes towards him before looking back at you for a moment, “we will continue this later.” All you can do is nod at her and watch as the two of them rush out the room. You lean back on the chair and close your eyes and sigh. You wonder how long she planned to keep you here. You felt as though you made it rather obvious you never planned to submit to Aegon or marry her son but it seemed she still held on hope you would. In the midst of your thoughts a breeze brushes you and you jump out of your seat and look over to the window. It was still open. You walk over to the window and look out, this was your chance. You could escape, surely it could not be so hard to scale down the castle. You could die but so what? The longer you resist them the closer you get to one day just being executed and they put someone who would listen to their every whim in the high gardens. You look around the room and throw a spare cloak which had been in the room and look for anything valuable to sell before you say a small prayer to yourself before climbing out of the room and beginning to descend the castle. 

It is not easy, if anything you would think this is impossible by the way your hands, knees and feet begin to bleed the way you continue to scrape along the harsh walls of the castle. You don't dare look down out of fear someone will notice you or you’ll realize you've made no progress and get so frustrated you cry. After what felt like hours you stumble and fall to the ground and struggle to pick yourself up. Looking around you, noticing you are in an empty alley. You had really escaped. You stand frozen for a moment unsure of what to do. You had not thought this far. Maybe you could try to make it to high garden but they would surely notice your absence before then and high garden would be the first place they look for you. You decide you’ll sell the stuff you had managed to take first and figure out the rest later. When you had made it to one of the stands the seller was shocked to see all the real gold items you had with you and was more than eager to offer you a large chunk of change for it. Now that you had the money you had no clue what to do but as you were walking you hear a group of people discuss that they planned to travel out of the city and decide you could try and hitch a ride with them.

“And why would we let you ride with us little girl?” you show him the large amount of gold you can just acquired and his eyes widen as he looks at it. “How much?” “I would give you all of it,” he looks alarmed, “you desperate to get out of the city?” “more than you know.” later that same day you were sitting in the back of their large carriage. One of the girls in the group offered you a change of clothes and fixed up your wounds for you question free. You watch the city fade away from you and let out a breath of relief as you finally pull down your hood allowing the group to see your face. “Hey aren't you that hightower girl?” you look over to your right at the man from earlier and shrug, “maybe.” If he wants to ask more questions he does and goes back to fiddling with his blade and you begin to pray once more for jacaerys and that the gods will be kind enough to allow the two of you to reunite. 

You travel with them for a couple days. You find out they are actually a traveling circus who is struggling to make business right now due to the war. They are kind people who don't ask you unwanted questions and provide you with a ride and some food and that's all you can ask for. One day it's the middle of the night and you have all taken camp near a mountain. You grow more and more restless to get as close to dragonstone as possible to try and see jacaerys but you know these people are being more than kind to you so you must not push them. “I heard a rumor about this place,” jim, the guy you had talked to the first day he seemed to be the leader of this little group, says to jane, the woman who helped you fix your wounds takes a sip from her flasks and gives jim an unamused look. “Jim if this is one of your fairytales again,,,” “no no no seriously, apparently there's a dragon around these parts.'' This immediately catches your attention and you gaze at jim. “Seriously?” Jim nods confidently and Jane shakes her head tapping you on the shoulder, “don't believe him pumpkin he's always talking shit.” “i am being serious-”

A loud roar off in the distance causes the three of you and the rest of the camp to grow completely silent. Jim mouths a ‘told you’ in your direction and you watch as a dragon flies over your head and out to a field not too far away from where you all were camped. “We're gonna die.” you hear one of the other guys say and all you can do is admire the dragon. It's pure white with piercing blue eyes that seem to be looking directly at you. You feel completed to go towards it, its gaze luring you in as you stand at the alarm of Jane and Jim and begin to walk off. “Where the hell are you going?” you reach in your pocket and toss and large bag of coins you had at jim, “im going to claim a fucking dragon! Or die trying!” 

The morning came and the blacks had finally managed to put a pin on where one of the large green camps were and we're currently stationed to ambush them. Jacaerys sat wordlessly on his dragon as baela sat on her next to him and called his name causing him to look over at her. “I hope you know she would not resent you. When you were gone you were all she could talk about. She couldn't hate you, it is not possible.'' He just stares at her and opens his mouth as if he wished to speak but he couldn't and all he could do was turn away so as to not get choked up. He hoped she was right, that you could not hate him because he fears if you did it would kill him. He clutches the necklace once more before the call is made to charge and he flys up with his dragon to fight. Despite the fact it had been an ambush the greens seemed way more prepared to fight than they had been expecting and the situation grew more and more dire as the fight went on. 

As if it was a grace from the gods he heard a roar off in the distance and prayed it had not been aegon or aemond heading there way but when he turned his head and saw a white dragon? When close enough a wave of blue fire came out of its mouth to douse the greens. He could not see if the dragon had a rider due to its erratic movements but soon enough the dragon flew by him and he felt himself freeze. His betrothed. The one he feared he had lost. You. Y/n Tyrell. On a fucking dragon. Soon after your arrival the greens begin to retreat, unable to over power your dragon and its blue fire. Once the tides had settled and people began to cheer he quickly began to move towards where you were and you also rushed off your dragon and ran towards him, “jacaerys!” He grabs your face and kisses you with all his heart. He hopes you can feel the force of his love pouring into you with every move his lips make and with the grip he holds your face on, so gentle yet strong as if he knew he was holding the whole universe in his hands. It was not just any universe it was his universe and as you two pull away he can barely breathe. “You're alive?” you nod and peck him on the lips, “i will never leave you my love.” he finally feels all the emotions he's held back crash into him and he hugs you so tightly as if he fears you'll slip from his grasp should he let go. You feel him begin to cry and stroke his hair as you close your eyes and find yourself crying too. “I was so scared you had,,” “shh do not even speak it. I am here, I promise and I am not going anywhere.”