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giftofwonder · 2 years

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Psychosis - Dabi/Hawks/Bakugou x f!Reader (Part 6)

Warnings: Cursing, drinking, sexual content

Tag List: @sylum @iiashleysykes @bebetiny @valentinesnightmares1

You checked the clock every few minutes, unsure if the quickly passing time was filling you with excitement or dread as your mind drifted to the Halloween party. You reasoned it would be good to get to know the staff, both for your time at work as well as outside of it. Perhaps you’d hit it off and leave with a few friends, but you knew there was also a high chance it could go the other direction.

They all had established relationships, and coming in as an outsider left a large margin for error. In any job you’d had, there was always a high school element to it. Everyone had their clique, grouped off together, and the last thing you wanted was to be outcasted from the get-go.

You had fared well on the clock, but there were plenty of ways to open up lines of communication at the asylum. Once you had removed yourself from it, you had no real idea where to go. Even those you worked with daily spoke little of their personal lives or hobbies, and you knew that meant you had no real common ground to work off of. It would just be a shot in the dark.

“Can’t believe I got roped into going to that shitty party again.” Bakugou grumbled to himself as he sat beside you, filing off his daily paperwork with a frown on his face.

“Are you really just going because I am?” You asked, restocking the supplies at the desk.

“Yep. Have to babysit.” He said, throwing you a blank stare. You had managed to mute thoughts of the events that happened the day prior in the shower stall enough to hold a conversation, which you were thankful for.

“You don’t have to. I’ll be fine on my own.” You said with a sigh, feeling a pang of guilt. You honestly would be much happier if he came since he was the most familiar to you, but you didn’t want to be a bother. If he was only planning to come for your sake, you’d rather he just stay home so you didn’t have to feel as though you were putting him out.

“It’s fine, I’m sure those idiots would have gotten me over there some way or another. They do every year.” He groaned, rubbing a hand though his wild blond hair, finally turning to fully face you.

“Okay, if you say so.” You said with a shrug. He didn’t seem to be too deeply bothered at least, so you figured it best to let it go. Maybe he secretly did want to attend the party and was using you as a cover, unwilling to admit his interest in it.

“Are you wearing a costume?” You asked after a few moments of silence. Bakugou wordlessly grabbed the hem of his scrub top, pulling it up to show a “this is my Halloween costume” tee shirt below.

“Seriously?” You asked with a chuckle, and he blinked angrily at you.

“Yeah, there a fucking problem with it?” He sneered, quickly pulling his shirt down and crossing his arms.

“No, not at all, it’s great! Really captures your essence.” You laughed, and he rolled his eyes dramatically before pushing himself to stand.

“Well, it’s a hell of a lot better than having to stand around in some tacky get-up all night.” He said.

“I don’t know, I think it’s kind of fun.” You shrugged, offering him a light smile.

“Whatever you say. I’m done here, are you ready to head out?” Bakugou asked, grabbing his jacket off of the chair and throwing it on.

“Go on ahead, I’m just about done. Just have to drop something off real quick.” You told him, picking up your bag and giving a small wave as he nodded before walking over to enter the elevator.

Your sneakers squeaked against the polished floor as you headed down the empty hall. It was almost eerie in a way, dim fluorescent lights buzzing as a gentle rain fell from darkened skies, tapping against the windows.

You unlocked the door in front of you, stepping into the room. You found Dabi already asleep in his bed, the covers wound around his body as his light snores filled the room.

You took out a book, setting it on his dresser, along with a small piece of candy, before turning and heading back out. You made your way down the floors, exiting the building to step out into the crisp night air.

______________

Your car came to a stop in front of a large home, looking more like some mansion you’d see on TV. The decorations in the yard were over the top, and you saw a sign for a haunted maze out back.

You checked your GPS again, just to make sure you were in the right spot, before turning off the vehicle. You sat there, taking deep breaths as you contemplated driving away and heading home.

The idea of walking into a coworker’s home felt unnerving, especially with it being one you hadn’t even met yet. You watched people smoke on the porch, thankful that it seemed like most people were in costume. You looked down at yourself feeling self conscious, before looking up and hoping to spot a familiar face.

When none were to be found, you sighed, giving yourself a silent pep talk as you willed yourself out of the car and up the winding stepping stones to the front door. You could hear the music and laughter from outside, see the flashing lights through the large windows, and you tried to ignore the nausea that was settling in your stomach.

Those on the porch moved aside, allowing you to pass through. Your hand grabbed the large brass handle, pulling open the heavy oak door and stepping inside. You entered slowly, looking around at the beautiful detailing of the home and the groups of people drinking and dancing, finding yourself horribly uncomfortable. Perhaps you should have asked to ride with Bakugou instead of coming on your own.

You let your feet carry you through the rooms until you finally stumbled on the kitchen. It was less crowded, though there were still people present. You walked forward, looking over the treats set up on the marble island, before feeling a hand slide along your lower back.

“You know, I had prayed this morning that I’d find myself an angel, but I guess a goddess will do, too.” The man grinned, his body pressed firmly against yours.

You wanted to laugh at how quickly you had regretted your costume. You had thought it would be easy and comfortable, a white dress that mimicked a Greek toga with its drapery, sandals and golden jewelry. Now you wished you’d chosen a ghost so you could throw a sheet over your head and disappear.

“Good to know, but I’m alright. Thanks.” You said, pushing his hand away and taking a step back, finally able to look at him. He was dressed up as Dr. Aizawa and you stared at him in disbelief. You weren’t sure if the accuracy of the costume made it better or worse, but it definitely left you speechless.

“Ah, come on. Don’t be like that.” He pouted, stepping up to you again and you could smell the liquor on his breath.

“The fuck did I just tell you?” You heard Bakugou’s annoyed voice call out, and not a second later he was behind you, reaching past to give the man a hard shove to the chest.

“Ignore him.” Bakugou said quietly to you. It was only then that he seemed to look at you and realize who you were. He seemed to freeze in place for a minute as he stared at you, before he blinked and walked ahead to the other man.

You didn’t fail to notice that he had on a proper costume. In place of the tee shirt he had presented to you earlier, he wore a pirate’s outfit instead. Black boots and harem style pants, with a loose white blouse that had a wide and ruffled v-neck collar, and a fake sword strapped to his hip. He even had on a bandana underneath his hat.

“Do you always have to be such a buzzkill?” The Aizawa impersonator muttered, glaring at his friend.

“Yes. Aren’t you with Jirou anyways? Shouldn’t you try to keep it in your pants?” Bakugou scolded the man, before turning his attention to you.

“This is Sparky, he’s the electrician.” He introduced you.

“I’m Denki Kaminari, and as of this morning I am officially single.” He told you, shooting you a pair of finger guns. You weren’t sure if the appropriate response was to simply walk away, but you debated it strongly before Kirishima came up to your side.

“Hey! I’m glad you could make it, you look great.” He said, giving you a pat on the shoulder.

“Thanks, you do too.” You told him, taking in his rocker costume. You wouldn’t have been surprised to see him wear clothing like that outside of work, it seemed to fit him well.

“Have you gotten the chance to meet anyone new yet?” He asked, leaning in to make sure you heard him over the loud music.

“Yeah, just him.” You said, pointing to Denki.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Here, follow me, I’ll take you around to everyone.” He smiled, taking your hand and pulling you off around the home. Bakugou and Denki followed along, joining as you were introduced to a large majority of the staff present.

Kirishima told you that there were some others you’d have to wait to meet, mainly those who were working tonight and couldn’t make it to the party. That was fine by you, you were just thankful to be able to put names to faces now.

For the next hour or so, you tagged along with their group, chatting and snacking. Bakugou stayed fairly close to you, while he didn’t speak much aside from casting out insults at the group, his company was pleasant. Him being with you had made the night go a lot smoother and you were thankful he had decided to come.

“We’re going to go out on the back patio and play some games.” Denki informed you as he and Kirishima stood to leave. You and Bakugou wished them luck, staying put.

“Are you having a good time?” You asked, and he shrugged, letting out a heavy sigh.

“It isn’t a shit show like it was last year, but I’m still ready to go home.” He told you, letting his head fall back onto the couch you were both sitting on.

“Katsuki, don’t tell me you’re nodding off already.” A voice called out, causing you both to look to the side. You saw a woman with pink hues to her skin skipping over, a large smile on her face. The short dress of her fairy costume rode up as she plopped on the other side of the couch beside Bakugou.

“Hey, I’m Mina. You’re the new doctor up on Level Three, right?” She said warmly, holding out her hand.

“Yeah, that’s me. It’s nice to meet you.” You said, giving it a shake.

After that, Mina prattled on about her day and things involving their friend group. Bakugou listened and responded to her, but you didn’t really feel any room to cut in. That sense of awkwardness came rushing back, like you had been forced out of the circle as quickly as you had entered it. Mina had seemed nice, but they had a deeper friendship, one with inside jokes and long-winded stories. You were still a stranger, and while you had debated sitting idle as they spoke, you were restless to leave.

“I think I’m going to go see how the others are doing.” You told Bakugou, and he shot you a look that you couldn’t quite read.

“Oh! Tell them I said hi, I’ll catch up with them in a few.” Mina grinned, giving you a small wave, her hands hooking around Bakugou’s arm as she went on to another topic.

You made your way through the maze of the house, stepping onto the back porch to find Dr. Aizawa having a stare down with his imposter. You looked between the two men before walking to stand beside Kirishima.

“What is the meaning of this?” Dr. Aizawa, clad in a long cape and velvet red vest, asked Denki.

“I do not know what you are inquiring about.” Denki said, straightening his long white coat, keeping his voice low and monotonous.

“This is ridiculous.” Aizawa sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, and you could see a fang glint in the dim moonlight as he spoke. You had to admit, you probably couldn’t have pictured your supervisor as a vampire, but he really fit the role.

“I’ll say, truly I don’t have time for your antics. I am a very busy man.” Denki said, turning his nose up and walking past your superior while you and Kirishima tried extremely hard to withhold your giggles.

“I don’t even know why I bothered actually coming here.” You heard Aizawa mumble to himself.

“He’s never shown up for a party before, this is the first time. Denki figured he’d never know if he went as him since none of us ever expected Aizawa to show.” Kirishima leaned in to you to whisper, and you nodded thoughtfully.

Aizawa spotted the two of you and walked over, his eyes glancing around the backyard as he strolled.

“So, doc, what made you decide to join us?” Kirishima beamed.

“Dr. Mic and I had made a bet. I lost, clearly.” He said, shifting uncomfortably.

“Didn’t realize you were a gambling man.” Kirishima chuckled, scratching his head.

“As of today, I’m officially retired. I held a long winning streak, it was a good run.” He gave a small smile, nodding to you before walking off and exiting through the back gate.

Denki walked over to the two of you wearing a cheeky grin as he watched Aizawa leave.

“Do you think since he’s a vampire, we had to invite him inside to get him to stay?”

__________________

Bakugou pushed himself off the couch, preparing to go look for you all, sure that you’d have gotten yourselves into some trouble by now.

Mina clung to his side, chatting away and following as he walked. As the pair passed the stairwell, Mina’s hands grabbed Bakugou’s wrist, giving him a tug toward her.

“You want to go upstairs? It’s kind of nice having you all to myself for once.” She said, a coy smile on her face.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He said gruffly, trying to pull his hand back.

“Oh, come on. We have been friends since high school. Just hang out with me for a little longer, plus it’ll be quiet upstairs.” She begged, and Bakugou’s head fell back as he groaned, allowing her to guide him up.

_____________

Kirishima and Denki had run off to do the haunted maze, leaving you alone once more. You walked around the grounds, shivering in the cold breeze. It wasn’t entirely unenjoyable though, Momo’s home was amazing. The garden was large with a fountain, black lights secured around its structure which illuminated the fog that seemed to seep out from the water.

Large stone statues decorated the area, and they had been covered in webbing, some tombstones placed in front to make it look like a graveyard. You could tell why everyone wanted to come, she really went all out.

It made you think back to your small apartment, how many of your things seemed crammed into the space. Nothing you owned came close to the lavish decor of Momo’s house. You hoped one day, that would change. You didn’t need anything this fancy, but it would be nice to have a place to call your own and decorate it with nice furniture. Have the extra space for an office or a library, have a yard to decorate for the holidays. A place to start a family in. You didn’t see that happening anytime soon, but it was what you were working toward hopefully.

You were broken from your musings as you spotted Midoriya sitting on a bench in the garden. He was dressed in a homemade scarecrow costume, and you raced over to him enthusiastically.

“Your costume is so cute!” You said, a large smile plastered on your face. He jumped at your sudden approach, before relaxing and patting the seat beside him.

“You think so? I wasn’t really sure what to come as, so my mom told me she’d make me something. I had thought it would maybe be a superhero or at least something more on the spooky side.” He told you, glancing down at the hay that poked out of the bottom of his sleeves.

“No, you look good! I promise.” You said, and you meant it. If there had been some jack-o-lanterns around, you could place them by his feet and he’d look like an autumn decoration right out of a catalog.

“Thanks, you look nice too.” He said, scratching his head.

You both sat and talked, and you were reminded once again of how easy he was to be around. It came so naturally, as if you had been friends for years. He was open and unguarded, and exceptionally kind. You rubbed your arms, your chilled skin feeling numb the longer you stayed out, but you were absorbed in your conversation and paid it little mind. Midoriya, however, seemed to notice and was quick to pull off his jacket and offer it to you. You took it, slipping on the warm garment and giving him a thanks.

________________

“You’re so boring!” Mina sighed exasperated as she turned a playful glare toward Bakugou. He had sprawled out in a chair inside of Momo’s study while Mina paced in front of him, naming off things to do, trying to persuade him into playing a game.

“How much longer are you going to keep rambling?” He groaned, shooting her a pointed look.

“Until you agree to something!” She huffed, hands on her hips.

“Then quit picking shit I’m not interested in.” He rolled his eyes.

A devilish smirk appeared as she slowly sauntered toward him, her knees touching his. He stared at her blankly, scowling as she reached behind her back.

“Maybe this will excite you a little more then.” She hummed, fingers gripping the zipper of her dress, pulling it swiftly and letting the fabric fall away from her body. Her eyes were catlike as he watched him.

He pushed himself to stand, and they were chest to chest. Her arms reached up, grabbing his shoulders before sliding them down and letting them encircle around his back.

“So, what do you think?” She whispered seductively.

“I think you should get dressed.” He said coldly, eyes ahead as he pushed her arms off of him and stepped around her to make his way to the door.

She stared at him in shock, her heart clenching as she watched him leave the room, shutting the door behind him and never turning back. Hot tears filled her eyes as she reached down, grabbing her discarded dress from the floor and hastily pulling it up.

She stormed out, planning to confront him. She made her way down, heading to the back porch where she knew the rest of her friends would be. She spotted Kirishima and Denki, walking on tipsy feet toward the house while Bakugou stood farther out, glancing into the gardens before abruptly turning and stomping off.

Mina crossed the grounds quickly, peering to where Bakugou had been looking, and spotted Midoriya talking to you. She put everything together quickly, feeling bitterness bubble up inside herself.

She turned and left, marching back inside to find Ochako. It didn’t take long, she was sitting and chatting with Momo in the living room, both girls speaking excitedly.

“Hey Ochako? Do you think there’s anything going on with Deku and the new girl?” Mina asked innocently.

“No, why?” Ochako asked, her brows raised in confusion.

“Oh, I don’t know. I just saw them out in the garden together. They were sitting pretty close and she’s wearing his jacket, so I just thought-“

“I’m sorry, she’s what!?” Ochako said, jumping to her feet, her cat tail swaying behind her as she ran off out of the room.

“What’d the new girl do to get in your bad graces?” Momo asked with a laugh.

“Nothing, just reporting what I saw.” Mina said with a shrug, her lips pulling upward as she spoke.

“You’re terrible.” Momo sighed, standing up to walk with her friend.

“It happens.”

__________________

“Deku! I didn’t know you were here!” A melodic voice called, and you saw Ochako running toward the two of you. You smiled as she approached, giving a small wave that went ignored.

“It’s good to see you, too.” She said to you, a tight smile as she stopped in front of where you sat.

It was painfully obvious she was unhappy with you, her gaze hardening as she looked in your direction, though Midoriya seemed fully unaware. You were reminded again of the cliques in high school, and you felt in that moment that you had gotten on the bad side of one, though you weren’t really sure what your offense was.

You slid Midoriya’s jacket off, handing it back with a thanks as you excused yourself, wanting to get away before you somehow created a bigger disturbance.

You sighed as you headed back into the house, the warm air greeting you immediately. You glanced around, spotting Bakugou in the other room. As you made your way towards him, he looked over at you and you could see the irritation in his stare. His eyes grew cold when they locked on to you. It gave you pause, and as he looked away, laughing at something else someone must have said, you felt yourself frozen in place. Maybe it was time to go home.

You turned, set on going the long way around and sneaking out the front door, but hands grabbed your arms and tugged you into the kitchen.

Mina and Momo stood there, smiling warmly as they asked you to come and talk, wanting to get to know you better. You nodded, apprehensive, but took a seat regardless. With the way the evening had been going, saying you were suspicious was an understatement.

They passed you a drink, pouring themselves one as well, before asking mundane questions. How did you like the job? How did you hear about the asylum? What’s working with Aizawa like?

You answered their questions, throwing out a few of your own. You wondered if maybe you had misjudged them, nothing had really seemed malicious like you originally thought.

“So, anyone you like at work?” Momo asked, leaning forward as she passed another drink over to you.

“Beyond friendship? No, not really. Everyone is nice, but I wouldn’t say I’m interested in anyone.” You shrugged, the shared glance between the two woman not going unnoticed. Everything in your body fired off the signal that you were not safe, and so you excused yourself, the girls waving goodbye as you stood on shaky legs.

You regretted throwing back as many drinks as you had, wondering how much alcohol was in them as you felt the room slightly spin. Normally, you handled your liquor well enough, and you almost wondered if they’d have spiked your drink, but you had watched them pour each one and drink from the same bottle. Plus, that was an action that could lead to getting charged were they to get caught, you doubted they’d put themselves in that kind of a high of risk situation.

You stumbled around the house, your legs feeling weaker as the minutes passed, and you used the wall to keep balance as you tried to make your way to the front door. You knew you couldn’t drive, but maybe you could just start the car and pass out in the back seat. It seemed like the safer bet, you definitely weren’t going to stay overnight in the house. You didn’t trust anyone enough for that.

You made your way through the yard, walking down the long driveway toward your car. Once it was within reach, you almost collapsed against the hood, unsteady hands supporting your tired body.

“You shouldn’t drive.” You heard a monotone voice call out. You glanced over your shoulder, seeing Todoroki quickly walking over to you.

“I’m not, just gonna sleep in the backseat.” You said, speech beginning to slur against your will. He blinked at you before taking the keys from your hand and placing them inside of his pocket.

“You should go home instead. Give me your address, I’ll drop your car off to you when I leave.” He said, pulling out his phone.

“Was this whole party just some elaborate scheme to steal my car?” You whispered to yourself, your hazy mind trying to understand everything that had happened.

“No, I guarantee you I have no need for your vehicle. My driver dropped me off, and I don’t plan on drinking. I can run it over to you and just get picked up from there. I just thought it would be a better alternative to anything else, though you’re welcome to leave it here overnight.” He said, glancing around.

“We’re almost strangers.” You reasoned, and he shrugged, holding your keys out toward you.

“Almost. However, we do work together and your boss is my father. It would be unwise for me to just take off with it.” He said, and your hand paused from grabbing the keys.

You pictured Midoriya talking about Todoroki, how highly he had spoke of him. While a few words from a coworker normally wouldn’t mean much, he trusted Shouto, and you felt you could trust Midoriya without a shadow of a doubt. Also, the notion of staying here, or leaving your car, were unsettling. You didn’t know if they’d mess with you but you’d rather not risk it.

Your arm fell limply to your side as you nodded, spouting off your address to him as you let your body slide down to the ground, sitting there calmly.

“Where’s your costume?” You asked him, looking up at his scrubs.

“I’m wearing it. I came as an intern that works at an asylum.” He said, giving you a small smile, before raising his phone to his ear and making a call.

You let your eyes fall closed, your head leaning on your car as you took deep and even breaths. Being outside was helping to sober you up somewhat, but the thought of trying to navigate home felt impossible. You had Shouto pop your trunk, letting you grab your wallet and a sweater.

“The fuck do you want, half and half?” Bakugou growled.

“Take her home.” He said, pointing down at you. You gave Bakugou a small wave.

“Why should I? She got herself here just fine.” He sneered.

“I seem to recall overhearing from Kirishima that you had come to babysit her. I don’t think you’d be doing a very good job if you allowed her to walk home in this condition.” Todoroki said, stepping around Bakugou to walk up to the house.

Bakugou groaned before looking down at you, demanding that you get up. You pushed yourself off the ground, slowly rising to stand. Once you felt you were steady enough, you turned to face him.

“The hell happened to you? You go and get shit faced while I wasn’t looking?” He grunted, grabbing your arm and throwing it over his shoulder as his hand wrapped around your waist. You leaned into his warmth, smiling as you walked.

“Wasn’t the plan, but looks like it.” You laughed, causing him to roll his eyes.

You told him where you lived, and were thankful he knew the general area as you didn’t trust your own sense of direction. You stumbled as you walked, feeling his arm tighten as he helped you balance.

“Were you mad?” You asked, turning to look up at him.

“What are you talking about?” He asked, his own feet tripping as he walked, and you could hear the low curses slip from his lips. He was probably a bit tipsy himself, having been enjoying the party until he was forced to deal with you. The guilt you hoped to avoid had found it’s way to you regardless, knowing you had probably ruined what could have been an enjoyable night for him. That realization forced your mouth to remain shut, keeping you from answering his question.

“I’m not mad, tonight was just annoying.” He said, glancing at you briefly before looking forward again.

“But did I do something?” You furrowed your brow, trying to remember when things went wrong. Nothing really came to mind, but the image of him looking at you flashed in your mind once more and you were almost certain then of his anger earlier in the night.

“No, it didn’t have anything to do with you.” He assured you, jaw clenching as he released you. You looked forward and saw you were at your front door. You unlocked it, pushing it open before turning back to look at him.

“Thanks for getting me home safe.” You said, impulsively stepping forward to hug him. He laughed, his arms wrapping around you loosely.

“I told you I’d watch you. Thought you said you wouldn’t get into any trouble.” He smirked and you shrugged.

“I really thought I wouldn’t, it’s a shock to me too.” You told him, turning to step into your house, but you didn’t make it far. Your dress tangled and knocked you off balance, your shoulder hitting your doorframe as you groaned.

“God, you’re a mess.” He said under his breath, laughing as he pulled you away from the wall and guided you into your home.

He led you into your kitchen, helping you into a chair at the table as he bent down, undoing the straps of your sandals and tossing your shoes carelessly to the floor. You wiggled your toes which were beyond numb from the cold.

“Are you going back to the party?” You asked, glancing at him as he looked around the space.

“No, I’ll probably just head home. It’s late, no point in going back just to leave again.” He shrugged, looking back at you.

“Sorry I cut your night short, do you want a drink or anything?” You asked. He gave you an incredulous look before smiling, giving a nod.

You stood, carefully walking to your pantry and pulling out a few bottles. You grabbed a couple glasses and made your way back over, taking extra precautions not to trip or drop anything. You were feeling a lot more clear headed, the fog lifting from your thoughts, but your body was still slightly out of tune with your mind. Bakugou cackled at the deep focus on your face as you set them down, and you smacked his shoulder before letting your body fall back into the chair.

“You sure you really want to drink more?” He asked, popping open a bottle and pouring himself a glass.

“Yeah, I’ll be alright. I never cut loose, might as well do it tonight. Plus I’m already home at least.” You shrugged, and he reluctantly filled your glass.

The two of you sat and talked, and you were glad whatever happened at the party was not lingering in your conversation now. He joked with you, mocking and teasing, as you told stories from the past.

Eventually, the two of you called it quits, deciding you’d both had enough and should go to bed since you did have to work the next day. You had offered to let him crash on your couch but he had declined saying he’d call himself a cab, and you nodded before resting your head on your table.

“You just gonna pass out there?” He laughed, cheeks rosy from the alcohol.

“Mhm. I can’t walk.” You groaned, the cold table feeling wonderful against your cheek.

“Come on, I’ll get you there.” He shook his head, pulling you to your feet and stumbling with you toward your room.

You made it into the darkened room, and as soon as you reached the bed, you collapsed onto it, breathing a sigh of relief. Your eyes looked up at Bakugou, who’s hand rested at your side, bracing himself against the bed to keep from falling as he hovered above you.

“Well, I better get going.” He decided, pushing himself up, but you were quick to grab his wrist. He looked at you, confused as you held it gently.

Your heart beat quickly in your chest as you sat up, your hand slipping down to hold his. His fingers tightened around yours and gave them a small squeeze.

You could hear his voice in the shower echoing through your mind, his soft moans and grunts, and the memory consumed you. The alcohol in your system made the impulse that much stronger, and so against your better judgment you whispered,

“Stay.”

He moved before you could even register it, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that knocked the wind out of you. His warm hands gently held the sides of your face, before moving to your hips and pulling you up off the bed.

You let your arms wrap around his neck as he supported your body, turning with you and pressing your back against the wall as he stood himself between your legs.

He broke the kiss, his lips ghosting along your jaw before he buried his face in your neck. His hand gathered the side of your dress, pulling it up and bunching it at your hip until he could grab your thigh. His hand squeezed it before hooking it around his waist, pressing himself impossibly closer to you as he teeth grazed your throat.

You shivered at the feeling, your back arching you into him as he groaned against you. Your hands moved to his shoulders, slipping inside the wide neck of his shirt, pulling it open around his shoulders as he let it slide down his arms and off of his body so that it hung limply around his waist, held in place only by where it was tucked into his pants.

He kissed you again, grinding himself into you as your lip was pulled gently into his mouth. You pulled off his hat and bandana, throwing them to the floor, and wove your hand in his messy hair.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve thought of doing this to you.” He whispered, an almost silent admission, as his hand reached up, kneading your breast before pulling the fabric off of your shoulder and exposing your chest to him. His eyes traced along your body, before he stepped back, pulling the dress off of you completely and letting it pool at your feet.

You reached out and he was quick to pull you against him, hoisting you up as your legs locked around his waist. His hand braced your lower back as he stumbled over to the bed once more, letting himself drop with you onto it.

His hand dove between your legs, brushing the flimsy fabric aside. His thumb rubbed circles against you as your head tilted back, releasing a breathy moan. Your hand grabbed the back of his neck, pulling him down to kiss along his neck, letting your lips dance gently down to his collarbone.

He crawled between your legs, undoing the waistband of his pants and quickly pushing them down his thighs. Your shaking legs spread further, feeling him rub the head of his cock along your slit, and you sucked in a breath in anticipation. Just as he began to push himself into you, he pulled back and stilled, stopping completely.

“Damn it.” He growled, his head leaning down to rest on your chest while his fist hit the bed above you.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, your mind clouded with arousal.

“You’re drunk.” He spat, pushing himself up to look at you.

“So are you.” You responded, unsure of what was happening.

“I’m not fucking you if you’re out of it.” He said, standing up fully as he climbed off the bed, pulling his pants back in place and sliding his arms into the sleeves of his shirt.

You rolled over his words, your tired mind struggling to keep up with the abrupt change of pace. You sighed, eventually nodding sadly.

“I’m gonna go to the living room and cool off, call a cab to get me home.” He told you, turning to leave before stopping, walking back and leaning down to press one last kiss to your lips.

“Next time, when you’re sober, I’ll make sure you can’t fucking walk afterwards.” His lips brushed against yours as he spoke, before pulling away and walking out of your bedroom.

You pulled the jewelry off of your body, tossing it onto your bedside table before crawling under the covers. You sighed, disappointed and debating on calling for him to come back, but you didn’t. Deep down you were glad that he had enough respect for you to not take advantage of your inebriated state, though you weren’t in the right mind currently to truly appreciate it.

The bed felt colder than usual, too large for just you, but you allowed your eyes to shut, letting your mind fade out with the somber thought that he would be gone by the time you awoke.

#dabi #dabi smut #dabi x female reader #dabi x reader #dabi x y/n #bakugou x fem!reader #bakugou x y/n #bnha #bnha dabi #hawks smut #keigo takami #bakugou katsuki #bakugou smut

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asamiontop · 2 years

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hey!!

quick question/praise

i love your writing so so much, wtstu will always hold such a special place in my heart. do you have any suggestions or tips for people looking to start writing fanfic? writing tips in general as well as tips for fics in specific?

i’m having trouble writing a solid beginning even though i know where the story wants to go. any tips for that as well?

additionally, how to capture the essence of the characters if that makes sense?

sorry for the loaded ask!!

thank you!! <33

👋 hello and thank you!! It’s so 🥺 to get asked for writing tips I don’t even know what to say besides trying to get you something at least marginally useful.

I’m not anything close to professional at this, and since Where the Snow Takes Us was like my first ever long thing, the best I can do is share my experience and hope that it helps!

In no particular order…

What got me started writing fic was basically a whole lot of reading it. I read and read and read until I was blue in the face and found myself craving content that I couldn’t find. When the idea bunnies nagged me enough, I gave in and started writing that content myself.

Reading lots of fanfiction for your fandom also helps capture the essence of the characters. Reading their reactions to hundreds of unique situations builds up a cache in your head of things that make up who they are. You carry that inherent understanding with you always, so while writing you can ask yourself what you think they would do/feel in the situation you’ve created. It also helps me if I can correlate a character’s personality to a person I know in real life. They don’t have to be the exact same, of course. Even if you identify just a few similar personality traits between someone you know well and your character, then you can ask yourself what your reference person would do to inform the character’s reactions. Imagine and play out your character’s reactions, their thoughts and feelings, what they might think vs what they might verbalize, and everything that goes on internally before putting pen to paper.

Beginnings are hard. It’s just kind of an awkward situation in general bc you’re trying to rope someone into your brainscape from scratch. With fanfiction it’s easier bc you can assume your reader knows the characters and the basic tenets of the world from your tags.

Usually with beginnings I tend to think of a really mundane situation that will become unique because of the way the characters treat it or because of what I know will happen in the future. (In wtstu the beginning is really mundane - Korra is covering for a friend at work.) People experience things every day that are easy to write about and relate to - so if you start with something mundane that your readers can quickly connect with, that’s a decent place from which to launch the rest of your story.

Alternatively I have read and enjoyed many openings that are, for lack of a better phrase, “self-aware” in the sense that the story seems to knows it is a story and introduces itself as such. Beginnings like “it was an accident the first time they kissed. This is what happened.” Those are a very different style but really fun too!

Writing tips… there are so many to be given! Here are a few that I think about a lot:

Use a thesaurus! Great word alternatives abound and frequently you will find some that are a little more specific and a lot more expressive for what you want to say

Use action verbs. Specifically, edit out most uses of the verb “to be.” It may seem difficult at first, but I suggest writing an excerpt and then going back and replacing all instances of “is.” Then reread and see if it sounds more polished. (Some other examples of using action verbs: “befriend” instead of “make friends with” OR “felt” instead of “could feel” OR “attacked” instead of “was attacking”)

Focus on maintaining a consistent verb tense. Personally I find it really distracting as a reader when a story slips from present tense to past tense and back again. So I always make an active effort to check and recheck and make sure I stay in the same tense. Usually when reading thru my own stuff, I always end up correcting some unintentional tense changes—they can happen really sneakily, so don’t feel bad if you find it in your work!

Flow is key. I reread my stuff a dozen times (not sure if that’s healthy but I’m a perfectionist and can’t let things go) and avoid excessive repetition of words, names, or sentence structure — all of those things can render the story monotonous or repetitive. I often remove details that at first glance seem important but actually detract from the main story or scene. Extra details can feel like bumps in an otherwise direct road and break the reader’s focus. Keeping those details in your head as an author adds a lot of depth to the writing, but know that the depth will come through even if all the background knowledge doesn’t make it into the words. What “flows” for you will be unique, but I suggest (if you have time) reading through your work and evaluating if it flows smoothly and without distraction.

Write what you want to read (or write). Don’t write for other people or what you think will get the most attention—if you’re not into the story, it’ll come off flat and uninteresting (because your own interest isn’t there to shine through!) Fanfic is most often a hobby, so do it for you.

Lastly, there are writing tip blogs to follow on tumblr! I recently discovered this and have been enjoying them a whole hell of a lot. Like lyralit, whose top posts have a ton of concrete examples of some of the tips above. Go scroll thru that blog and other related posts like this.

Sorry for the long, disorganized answer lol… there’s a lot to this! Hopefully this has helped a bit!

#my asks #long answer

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deer-knight · 4 years

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I love asking questions about people lol, so sorry if this is really weird. Where'd you get the archery/sword experience? Have you been backpacking? If so, where's your favorite place you've been? Some of you favorite books/authors? What's your favorite part about teaching/working with kids?

alright, i wanna honor these questions with proper responses, so i’ll just tag this as a long post and y’all can deal with it :P i’ve bolded the different questions so you can read whatever you’re interested in. ARCHERY: i started fashioning self-bows and arrows in my parents backyard (which was just about 3 acres) when i was 11, just going on what i knew bows and arrows to look like. i shot at trees and rocks and i’d do it for hours and hours after school. my parents are strongly anti-weapons and the only reason i ever got into archery beyond my backyard bows was because of my grandfather, who gifted me a longbow for my 13th birthday and brought me for a few lessons with a junior olympic coach he happened to know. then armed with some proper equipment and a couple of lessons the rest of it was just practicing in the backyard at primarily self-made targets of foam and cardboard.

and i practiced religiously. nearly every day, for at least an hour or two, i’d be out there. i briefly joined an archery range the following year, and nearly outshot everyone at the first tournament, despite being the only one under the age of 30, which i am proud of to this day.

i continued my practice and love of archery up through high school and uni, but gradually fell out of consistent practice just cause i no longer had the space once i moved out of my parents place. i’ve taught archery for girl scouts and now teach primarily primitive archery at work. so in essence, i’ve come full circle - back to self-bows and shooting at trees in the woods.

SWORDPLAY: most of my swordplay experience is from modern olympic foil fencing, which i did from age 13/14 to about halfway through uni, which is when i discovered sca rapier fighting. somehow i managed to convince my parents it wasn’t at all dangerous or violent (which it technically isn’t - it’s really quite tame, at least if you don’t fence sabre). i mostly fenced foil, but my high school team was tiny, and i filled in wherever bodies were needed, so i learned a bit of everything. i did however break my ankle when i was 16 during a fencing bout, which required surgery. i couldn’t walk for 6 months, but i was back at it again as soon as i was cleared, and having good footwork became my top priority.

as for sca rapier, i was at a local renaissance faire and saw one of their fight demonstrations. i noticed that the techniques looked awfully similar to épée fencing, but the swords looked far more beautiful and certainly more substantial as weaponry. needless to say, i was intrigued. i asked their table how to get involved, and i started attending their practices the very next weekend, never to pick up a foil again. i’ve been fighting with my local group and learning from my sca peers ever since.

since then, i’ve received my award of arms in large part due to my rapier dedication, i’ve won one local rapier championship, and ranked 15th in my very first large scale tourney last year, one with close to 80 participants. at work i teach kiddos the basics of swordplay, using foam swords i constructed of pool noodes, pvc, and duct tape.

BACKPACKING: no, i haven’t technically been backpacking, but i love hiking and i’ve covered most of my local peaks. ^_^

FAVORITE BOOKS/AUTHORS: this has been a difficult and shifting thing of late, as academia crushed my adolescent love of reading and i took a long break from reading for pleasure post-uni.

that said, the kingkiller chronicles by patrick rothfuss and the stormlight archives by brandon sanderson were my absolute favorites in high school, and having reread them recently to try and rekindle my relationship with reading is a difficult thing. they are not the perfect books i romanticized them to be, but i don’t think i can dismiss entirely the good they did for me as a depressed teen. i loved the storytelling, i loved the worldbuilding, i loved the quality of the writing and they way it let me escape for a while. would i recommend the books to anyone today? probably not. i’m searching for better ones.

it’s likely i simply didn’t notice the misogyny or lack of queer representation as a problem because it was what i understood to be normal, and being a daft and obliviously closeted trans queer kid, the only thing i knew how to do was repress and avoid conflict.

i don’t know if i can call those books my favorites anymore. i’ve thanked them for their comfort when i needed it, but i’ve let them go. for now i’m on the hunt for books i can actually see myself represented in.

FAVORITE PART OF TEACHING/WORKING WITH KIDS: hm. i think it would have to be their creativity - the way they ask questions, their curiosity and their different ways of figuring stuff out, and beyond all - their gorgeous imaginations.

there are certain kids who, like me, really just want to learn, to soak up every bit of all they touch and see and hear, and to never stop trying to get better at the stuff they love. one of my students got their first coal using a bow drill this fall, after having tried for years but never quite being strong enough. a new student struggled to cross a fallen log that spans a shallow ravine, too scared of falling off to walk it like a balance beam. they worked at it for a while, crawling out on their butt or hands and knees and then backtracking when they got too scared. by the end of the day they could walk across it, still some fear in their eyes but the confidence of practice in their chest.

i love when kids come back from their “sit spot” (20 minutes of quiet time alone in the woods) to report that they had made a new friend in the form of a tree or a fern or a squirrel that sat near them on a stump for a while. sometimes their new friend has a name and a story, sometimes they don’t. sometimes they were visited by the fairies or the voices of the wind.

and sometimes they take a foam sword to the face and they cry, their arrow doesn’t fly as straight or as far as the others, or they say mean things to one another to protect their own pride and insecurities. sometimes they cut themselves while carving or they get clotheslined by a tree branch, and sometimes they bicker and argue about who did what, and that’s part of it too. we ask them what they notice in their bodies, how they feel and we figure out what those feelings mean and where to go from there. that’s beautiful too.

so, it’s all my favorite. i couldn’t ask for a better job. i’ll most likely do this forever :P

thanks for the questions! i’ve tagged all “about me” kinds of questions with “& lore” so if you want to ask a question but don’t know if i’ve already answered it, check there first! my about me page also has some basic stuff there ^_^

cheers! &

#long post #& lore

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raisansgrapeon · 4 years

Text

Ghostbur Through the Lens of War

When analyzing a text (text being used as a general term), it’s important to establish what lens your analysis is going to be run under. It helps specify thoughts and arguments under set pretenses and brings focus to the discussion. Instead of looking at an article or a story through broad strokes, using a specific lens focuses on one stroke and allows for deeper analysis to be achieved.

It is safe to say that most of the Dream SMP is either seen under then lens of politics or mentality/interpersonal relationships. Viewing the story as a grand political battle and the consequences of the mighty leads us right down to the more specific lens of war. Yet, despite this common viewpoint under which we, as a community, digest the story of the Dream SMP, the character of Ghostbur is often left out of the equation in those terms, favoring to shed light on him for what he represents mentally. While his character is very much geared towards that line of thinking as an individual, his representation of innocents in the portrayal of war in the DSMP is nothing to scoff at.

The scale of the DSMP is far too small to truly represent the role of the common man within the cogs of war. With (at the time of writing) 31 characters within the story and a vast majority too disconnected from the story line to feel any real impact from the major players, we only ever really got to feel the way war impacted the warring factions and the leaders. The way war impacted countries as government system. The way war impacted the individual. We saw how war warped Wilbur and how war pitted father against son. We saw how war tore apart L’manburg because the leaders in charge never learned when to quit. We saw how abstaining from war left the Badlands relatively unharmed until a new external force came into play.

In all these instances, we see either the characters as individuals in positions of power, or the overarching bodies and governments that share the land, but we never see the people. The innocents trying to live life as best as they can under dire circumstances. Until, we look at Ghostbur under the lens of war as well.

Ghostbur is a prime vessel to carry the weight of the general population and how war impacts the people caught in the crossfire. He is the essence of the common people living their life only to have it viscerally uprooted and destroyed by war and by ignorant leaders gunning for their own gains. This can be seen in nearly every aspect of Ghostbur’s character.

Starting off with what inspired this essay and these thoughts in general is Ghostbur’s conversation with Philza on the 6th of January. Within this conversation is where the most blatant characterization and solidification of Ghostbur as a representative of the people comes into play. The line, “I read the history books,” and Ghostbur recounting his warped idea of how Wilbur’s death came to be reflects on how history is written by the victors, and that is the version taught to the population. We are told of the great triumphs of the heroes of history, even if those heroes will never see themselves as such. The people are told of all the good that came out of a horrid historical event without the whole picture because details will always be lost within the wash of time. And during conflict between parties and during horrid events, Ghostbur continued to just live his life. He became the foundations of the country that those in charge put on the line. “...I just wrote books... I built a house for people... I built this town, just like I built Logstedshire...” Ghostbur built L’manburg and Logstedshire as places for him, as a representation of a community, to live.

Even beyond this conversation, the way Ghostbur acts and how everyone interacts with him continues to support the idea that Ghostbur represents the innocents in war. Again, Ghostbur learns everything from word of mouth and history books. They are all skewed to paint a simplified version of events that leaves everything black and white, like how so much of history is formulated and taught. Ghostbur is always happy and cheerful and naive, chasing ideals and chasing that happiness. People just want to be happy. They just want to live their lives freely and enjoy it. Ghostbur covers the more mundane tasks of L’manburg, such as building aesthetic things or extra houses or the town center. When interacting with Ghostbur, everyone treats him like a glass vase. They fight to keep him complacent and content and happy. The way Phil talks to Ghostbur during their conversation, how Phil lies to him about Friend’s canon lives and Dream brings another Friend to keep Ghostbur complicit and feeling positive towards Dream, how everyone practically tip toes around him whenever something serious comes up. They all talk to him softly, like a child. At least the way I see it as an American Citizen, the government is all to happy to leave the people thinking there is nothing wrong, and to actively keep them from getting too close to whatever the truth may be. All parties try to keep the innocents innocent and complacent.

And yet, “I sowed the seeds of peace, yet I am the one who pays for war.” The people always pay. The innocents always pay with their lives and their homes for those in charge to play their games. “You knew everything everyone owned was in this town.” The greater powers at play, whether they be governments or leaders or what have you, know that in this land is where people live. They know, but they enact war anyway. The decimate their lands anyway. They blow up their homes anyway. They kill their loved ones anyway.

Phil’s final, “...maybe you’ll understand someday,” is saying, “one day, you will look back on this day in history and see all the good it caused. One day, the innocents will move on. One day, the people will forget why they lost what they lost.”

And Ghostbur does.

---

A bit disorganized. I wrote this off the cuff so it’s more like a train of thought loosely formatted as an essay. I hope you all liked my small rant. I’ve been thinking about this for a while and just wanted to write it, you know?

Edit below the cut:

A small amendment to this post in retrospect in terms of one of my arguments and how I presented it along with some added hindsight and sleep, since I had written this at 2 in the morning.

This was spurred on by the tags of @asmoljay in their reblog of this post.

In their tags, they bring up the point that my argument on how people treat Ghostbur is placating and dismissive, mentioning that people are actually very confrontational with Ghostbur about Alivebur’s actions and its effect on them.

I will concede, my original claims are unfounded and far too broad. What I should’ve said, and what I have come to the realization of, is that Phil is placating and dismissive and trying to keep Ghostbur, for the most part, complacent. He never actively confronts Ghostbur about Alivebur’s actions and hardly has anything to say when Ghostbur brings up his death by Phil’s hands.

Overall, Philza is the only one engaging with Ghostbur thematically. He’s the only one playing into what Ghostbur represents, acting as a representation of the instigators of war to contrast with Ghostbur’s representation of the innocents.

I also feel I was a tad bit unclear as to why I was specifying that I was looking at Ghostbur through the lens of war. In doing so, I was taking a stance on Ghostbur’s thematic relevance and role in such an analysis and subsequently ignoring aspects of Ghostbur’s character that builds him up as that, a character. Looking through this lens, I am only looking at a small facet of how Ghostbur acts and interacts with the story at play. I am by no means disregarding how he works as a character or as a representation of guilt, unhealthy coping, drug use, etc. Ghostbur is multifaceted and I wanted to bring light to one facet that I found really interesting and didn’t really see anyone acknowledge. In the end, I am blatantly ignoring how different events feed into different aspects of Ghostbur as a character and bringing to light how other events pertain to him as a representation of a general populous and how that plays into the theme of war that is (or at the very least was) going on between Phil and Ghostbur.

Ghostbur isn’t defined by this characterization that I have illustrated, but it is certainly an interesting way to look at him under new context.

#dsmp #dream smp #dream smp writing #dream smp analysis #dsmp analysis #ghostbur #ghostbur analysis #philza minecraft #dsmp philza #dsmp doomsday #wilbur soot

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fanficsforheartandsoul · 4 years

Text

The Dragonborn | M!Reader x Geralt of Rivia | Part II

Note: I split the oneshot because damn 12k does nobody want to read in one go xD

Fandoms: The Witcher (TV Series), The Elder Scrolls: Skyrim

Warnings: Non-Canon Story, Swearing, Gore, Slight OOC

Summary: Geralt and Jaskier meet a stranger in the woods while on the hunt for a special monster. They decide to team up but neither does Geralt realize that his prey is close to him nor does the stranger notice he's the one being hunted...

Word Count: 6938

If you want to be tagged in my stories send me a pm with the fandom/character name!

Please note that The Witcher is supposed to be around the Middle-Age. Homophobia existed.

Part I

_______

A few hours later, after they had eaten the rabbit, they began to look for tracks of the monster. There were a lot of them. For example, the scorched moss where Geralt almost turned into roasted meat, the dark footprints in the dirt, and the fallen trees.

The witcher was impressed by how good the warrior from Keizaal could search for tracks.

“You see that, Jaskier? The way the claws dig in the ground? It means the claws of the dovah are really big. That’s pretty unusual for female dragons, so it’s obvious we’re dealing with a male. But we uh... know that because Odahviing is male.”

While Jaskier and Y/N genuinely searched for any signs he just stared at the foreigner. He somehow felt like he had found a kindred spirit in the man standing in front with his back facing him.

A weird association, but there were only a few things that could really impress Geralt.

Magic, Fighting Skills, and usually breasts.

Which made him sound like a skirt chaser, but that wasn't it. It just meant what it meant. Dicks definitely didn't attract hi-

"What the hell?"

He lifted his eyes from the lower body of Y/N, and his breath hitched when those e/c eyes pierced his. Did he see...?

"The footprints are gone!"

Oh. That.

"That does make sense... Or not? It's a dragon, after all? They can fly. Or not? Can they?"

Jaskier stepped in front of him and obstructed his view on the other. Geralt turned and touched his face. His cheeks were burning. What's gotten into him? He remembered something Yennefer had told him once as a half-joke.

I sometimes think that if I haven't met you, you would have chosen someone who fights like you, thinks like you, who lives like you. And from what I believe that someone would have been a man. Because it needs a brute to move a brute's heart.

While his head was filled with thousand thoughts, Y/N and the bard inspected the tracks closer.

"It can't be that he took off. Do you see how the footprints are as deep as the others? If he wanted to fly away, they would be deeper because he had needed to shift his weight."

"Is that something you learned while hunting for the other dragons with the Dragonborn?"

The man from Keizaal nodded. Some locks fell into his face, and his expression was thoughtful while he searched for a plausible explanation. Geralt could see every feature of his sharp e/c eyes.

They were different from Yennefer's violet ones, their spark was different, but for other people, they must be as enthralling as the eyes of the sorceress to him. That's at least what he believed. They had a particular pull. He didn't feel it, but it was there. Puzzling, but powerful.

A cough pulled him away from Y/N's eyes, and Jaskier stared at him with a grin.

"What?" he asked, his voice almost defensive.

"Nothing," responded his friend with a knowing undertone. What the hell was going on?

"Well, I can't think of anything that happened. Witcher, what about you?"

The mesmerizing eyes turned to him, and he blinked. What was the question?

Thankfully, I always have a good answer ready.

"Hmm."

He shifted and knelt to see the footprints up close. They had a certain distance to each other as if the dragon was walking slowly. Y/N was right; he couldn't have flown away, the marks were too shallow. Either he disappeared into thin air, or the monster had an amazing control when it came to his weight.

"Strange..." was all he said.

He focused on the sounds around them, but there was nothing extraordinary. Just the whistle of the wind, a few birds singing, and the steady heartbeats of the other two men. It was a dead end.

"Fuck."

He looked up, surprised that he and the warrior of Keizaal said the same thing at the same time. Y/N shot him a grin, and Geralt snorted.

"Maybe we should try to set up a trap"

He turned and watched Jaskier's expression. It was a good idea, and they didn't have any other options, besides he wasn't really in the mood to search the whole forest for the dragon. The h/c haired man agreed and pulled a bow out of his satchel. The bard's eyes once again widened.

"I want a bag like this too."

"If you don't want to carry your things anymore, you can give them to me. I'll store them."

Jaskier smiled brightly, and Y/N returned it. Something flared up in Geralt's chest, but he ignored it. Damn bruises make my chest hurt.

The bard gave the foreigner their things, and he put them in his satchel.

"Let's think about the trap," the warrior tested the string of his bow and then focused his eyes on Geralt and Jaskier.

"Dragons are usually very picky about their food, but I belie- know that Odahviing is fine with deer meat. We should hunt some."

And they did. With the help of Geralt's tracking skills and crossbow and the Y/N's bow, they easily got two does. Although it took a while to find them since most animals steered free of the area where the dragon rampaged.

Geralt and Jaskier only watched, while Y/N slashed the throats of the already dead animals.

"Dovahs have a keen sense of smell; we have to cover our own scent."

He continued to drench his hands with the blood and even smeared some on his neck and armor. When he couldn't hear the other two approaching, Y/N turned around and tilted his head questioningly.

"U-Uh, what did you say?" asked the bard and avoided his gaze.

“What? Did I say something wrong? Can you... Is it a sacrilege to use doe bloo-"

Geralt interrupted him.

"We couldn't understand what you said because you spoke in a different language."

Y/N widened his eyes, and an apologetic look crossed his face.

"I'm sorry...”

Jaskier’s slightly odd expression concerned him and he examined the witcher. Geralt was more intrigued than scared by the fact the atmosphere in the woods seemed to have changed as soon as the other spoke in his probably native language.

The fact that Y/N’s voice got a lot deeper while he spoke, caused a shiver to run down his spine. The foreigner apologized again and then added:

“I said the dragon could smell us. We should cover our scent with the blood."

Jaskier didn't seem to like the idea, but the witcher nodded and followed his advice.

Soon the bard's and his hands were stained with doe blood. Geralt was unaffected by it since he already got used to it by hunting monsters for years, but the other man looked a little pale.

The warrior watched their actions and then approached the white-haired man. His yellow eyes followed all of his movements.

"You should also put some on your throat... It’s a place where a lot of sweat gathers."

As soon as Y/N touched his collarbone and neck, Geralt stiffened. Actually, he froze. Something about another man touching his carotid artery was really intimate. His nose caught the smell of iron, moss, and smoke.

Someone who lives like you.

Yennefer's words replayed in his mind, and he couldn't stop himself from unconsciously moving his head closer to the other man.

The warrior was only a few centimeters smaller than him, his head reached up to his eyebrows. The hands on his throat were rough and slippery, but they touched him with such gentleness, Geralt had to shiver.

He gulped, and his adam's apple pressed against Y/N's palm. The afternoon sun danced on the other man’s scars, and eyelashes and Geralt wondered if every man had such long ones. He breathed in and closed his eyes.

Is this the essence of a kindred spirit?

Suddenly Y/N's hands disappeared from his throat, and he could no longer feel the warrior's presence so close to him.

“Put some on your cheeks too.”

A little disappointed, he opened his eyes and noticed that the other man had already turned and now approached Jaskier just to do the same thing to the bard that he did to him.

Y/N's bare hands touched his friend's throat, and neck and Geralt suddenly had a very, very dark thought.

Abruptly he turned around and covered his lower face with his hand.

Did I... About this man...?

He could feel how heat crept up his neck, and he questioned the emotionlessness that every witcher was supposed to have.

What the fuck was he thinking? He has Yennefer!

Or at least had. Their relationship was somewhat in the stars at the moment. After their rather big fight last time...

Geralt didn't know why that mattered though.

He buried the fluttery feeling that had sprouted in his chest when the other man had touched him.

What he didn't realize, Y/N's heartbeat was pounding faster after the physical contact they had just shared.

After they had covered their scent with deer blood, they also smeared some dirt on their armor and clothes, much to the dismay of Jaskier. Then they decided to set up their stakeout one hundred meters away from the carcasses.

It was close enough to quickly attack, but also far away enough for them to be safe in case the dragon wanted to grill them. They sat on the mossy ground and leaned on the trees surrounding them.

"Now, all we have to do is wait."

Patience was something every hunter was supposed to have, and both Geralt and Y/N obviously had it. The bard, on the other hand...

The witcher's left eyebrow twitched in annoyance. After his friend had whistled, he began to eye the two men. Jaskier's stare felt like a cockroach was crawling over his body. He had a bad premonition about the weird behavior of the brown-haired man. He glared at him, but he just grinned.

Stop staring!

Geralt turned his head away and noticed how the warrior from Keizaal seemed to concentrate on something around his neck. He clenched and unclenched his fist with an absent expression.

He watched for a while and then realized that Y/N was holding a ring that he wore on a necklace.

A sinking feeling appeared in his gut, and he suddenly felt like a mountain weighed his shoulders down.

"You have a wife?"

His mouth was faster than his thoughts.

The man startled and then shared eye contact with him.

"Something like that..."

Geralt frowned a little. What kind of answer was that? He stared at Y/N with a hard look, but the other added nothing else, just sighed and hid the ring under his heavy armor.

The witcher only grunted and turned to face the direction of their trap.

Shit, why was he so annoyed?

The idea of the warrior having a doting wife waiting for him in Keizaal made his heart clench, and his chest felt tight.

This time he couldn't blame the bruises on his rips.

He finally acknowledged that the h/c haired man intrigued him and caused some rather odd feelings to rise.

But this... Why... Why the fuck was he feeling jealous?

And it wasn't even that the man had a wife, no; he was jealous because some woman had Y/N.

That dragon must have indeed killed some of his brain cells.

His yellow eyes traveled back to the other man's figure. His broad shoulders were hidden under his armor, but Geralt had seen them.

Just after he had woken up, he had seen the man in regular clothes. Although he had worn a shirt, the witcher had been able to see how muscular Y/N was.

His body seemed to be covered with scars. Tiny cuts on his hands, big slashes on his collarbone, and even some nasty ones close to his throat. Geralt was sure there were many more, but he wasn't able to see them. They were proof of fierce fights and the experiences the man had had to go through.

Was it weird that they attracted him?

Like the hands in his dreams that had traveled over his, the Butcher of Blaviken wanted to trace Y/N's scars with his fingers. He wanted to feel how his body had healed him, wanted to know the story of every scratch and bruise, wanted to touch the energetic muscles bursting with strength.

A flame of desire began to burn in his body, and he lowered his head to hide the dark expression he wore on his face.

These thoughts needed to stop; they would only become problematic in the future.

Geralt scratched his neck and then examined the brown-red flakes under his fingernails.

He felt a stare on his body again, and he sighed.

God damn Jaskier...

When he lifted his head, he was surprised to see that it wasn't the bard who looked at him but the warrior from Keizaal. Y/N's e/c eyes were unfathomable, but he showed a somber expression. He paused for a second, and the world seemed to turn slower.

The witcher could see every blemish on the other man's skin, every mole, every freckle. Geralt breathed in slowly, and the warrior's hair swayed in the wind.

He's so handso... The wind?

Geralt abruptly stood up.

"The-the wind turned!" he muttered and gulped. His cheeks felt hot, and he bit his lip. Jaskier frowned.

"Doesn't this mean that our smell would be...?"

Y/N sighed and nodded.

"Is a lake close by?"

The bard shook his head.

"But, we're only a few miles away from the sea."

The witcher watched the other man closely while he questioned the other's exhausted expression.

"The wind has turned due to the late afternoon. We should move."

Geralt and Jaskier only watched when the other stood up and grabbed his bow.

"Why not wait until the wind turns again?" asked the bard, and he followed after the h/c haired man.

"That won't be the case until tomorrow. The sea has saved the warmth from the sun while the land cooled down. We have to wait until the land is warmer again."

Jaskier eyed Y/N carefully. Geralt could already guess what he was thinking. He understood what the warrior from Keizaal meant. He learned about it when he was training to become a witcher.

"So, what are we going to do now?"

They both contemplated for a while and then Geralt spoke:

"Maybe we should indeed wait for tomorrow. I think it would be best if you tell us some more things about your dragon before we storm into this unprepared."

He tried to suppress a triumphant smile when the other two agreed. Of course, he wouldn't admit that he actually just wanted to spend some more time with Y/N.

He had a thought that they wouldn't meet again after this whole thing was over.

"Then what do we do about the deer corpses?" asked Jaskier, and it was a reasonable question. If they left them, they could attract other animals...

Both the witcher and the warrior looked at each other and then huffed. The bard just stared between them, and his face gradually darkened.

"You're not... thinking about eating them are-are you?"

Two hours later, they had put up a camp close to a clear pond and already roasted some rabbit meat.

They had buried the does, and although the physical labor was annoying, Jaskier was relieved that the two brutes didn't decide to eat them. The dead animals had been lying in the sun for a long time after all.

Y/N was peeling his armor off and thinking about the situation he was in right now.

The fact that they were on the hunt for a dragon excited him. Not the actual part of the chase but the fact that he would meet another specimen of his current best friends.

After he had killed Alduin, he had lost himself in a killing spree. Paarthurnax had warned him to get a hold of himself, but he wasn’t able to. His dragon soul caused him to lose all rational thoughts.

When he finally realized that he could learn so much more about Akatosh and the dovahs, he had already committed mass slaughter, and Odahviing and the wise dragon from The Throat of the World were the last ones of their species.

Or that's at least what the three of them had thought. But they were wrong, and now he had the chance to meet another dragon! And probably also the chance to go home. If he wanted to.

But first, they had to get a hold of him.

"Jaskier?"

He faced the bard who currently played on his lute while also watching the fire. He hummed in response and looked up.

"We should wash off the blood in the pond. Do you want to go first?"

The man seemingly wanted to say yes but then shook his head and responded with a slight grin:

"No, you can go first. I'll watch the rabbit."

Y/N furrowed his brows but then smiled and thanked him. He left the pile of his armor and Jaskier behind and wandered to the pond, which was located behind some trees and big boulders.

The view from the camp was obscured, which meant he had some privacy. Not that he cared much, but he would rather not show his back to the two other men. Since it showed one more change he had gone through in the last year.

Although Geralt wasn't currently in the camp anyway, he left to get some more branches for the fire.

The man carefully opened his shirt and took it off. His boots, pants, and underwear soon followed suit, and he stepped to the shore where some reed grew.

The water was cold when he stepped in, but he endured it. His muscles just tensed a little.

Y/N walked in further until the water reached his abdomen. He wasn’t even halfway in the pond, it was fairly big.

He sucked in some air when he lowered himself into the water until it reached his chin. He had to rub his skin a little, but then the water around him turned slightly red.

The man watched how the deer blood twirled, and he stared at his reflection. The red blood on his cheeks conjured a cursed memory in his head, and he heaved.

Hii los dur, Dovahkiin. Hi aal krii zu'u nu nuz zu'u ahrk pah dii Zeymah fen koraav hi mah wah hin daan. You are cursed, Dragonborn. You may kill me now, but all my brethren and I will see how you fall to your doom.

The ominous words of the last dovah he had killed echoed in his mind. He hugged himself, and his fingers touched his shoulder blades.

The skin was still shedding. Y/N sighed. What was going on with his body? The shedding had started a few months ago but he had no idea why.

And since it only started after he had arrived here he couldn’t ask Odahviing or Paarthurnax.

He breathed out slowly and then dived underwater.

The coldness cleared his head a little, and he relaxed slightly. His feet left the muddy ground, and for a moment, he floated.

If I could just stay like this...

His hand clenched to a fist, and he released some Magicka. The small pressure on his nose disappeared, and he automatically breathed in.

Air filled his lungs, and the Dragonborn smiled. Peace washed over him, and he spread his arms.

He slowly floated to the surface, and his face broke through it. Water droplets pearled from his cheeks and eyelashes, and he stared into the sky. The tree crowns whistled, and he watched how some clouds traveled across the darkening sky. The sun was already setting.

This was the ending of the first day together with the bard and the witcher. Geralt's face came to his mind, and he bit his lip.

The white-haired man reminded him of Farkas, but he was also completely different. His attitude for example. Farkas was openly benevolent and also voiced his concerns. The witcher seemed to be reluctant. Although Y/N was able to feel that he cared deeply for his friend.

They shared the same keen instincts, but Geralt's came from the harsh trials witchers had to go through while his love had them because he had been a werewolf.

I can't believe that you chose Farkas over Vilkas. Do you like strength more than brains?

Aela's voice sounded in his head, and Y/N huffed.

The huntress had probably been right. He was attracted to the Butcher of Blaviken. These yellow eyes... They had something animalistic and penetrating that stirred an urge deep inside of him.

He sighed and put his hands on his face. Then he scrubbed and splashed his face with water.

Suddenly, he caught sight of a person standing behind a tree at the other side of the pond after he had wiped droplets from his eyes and opened them again.

Y/N breath stopped, and a wail got caught in his throat. He abruptly stood up again, although it felt like he had still no ground under his feet. What...?

Light blue eyes framed by black war paint stared at him with a resentful look.

"Fa-Far..."

His voice failed, but he agitatedly began to move across the pond, trying to reach his lost lover and husband.

Breath erratic and tears were pricking in the corners of his eyes, but at that moment, he only felt happiness and relief. Farkas was alive!

"D-Dii Shul!" My Sunshine!

The ground suddenly declined, he lost his footing and dived involuntarily underwater.

Nevertheless, he was still able to hear the words that had left the lips he had kissed so often.

"So, you've abandoned me."

An ice-cold feeling washed over him, and his heart broke.

No, that's not true! I would never! You were gone! You left me! You died!

A disturbing scream erupted from his throat, and the skin around his mouth tore. The scream turned into a roar, and he clawed at his face. The e/c eyes shook, and the black pupils turned to slits.

Shreds of flesh got caught by growing claws, and gigantic fangs emerged from the man's jaws.

H/C hair parted, shrunk, and gave way for two enormous horns. His whole body shook, and his limbs twisted and cracked. His spine grew longer, broke through his lower back, and two bony wings arose from his back.

The murky water of the pond turned red and swirled around the tremoring creature who rapidly grew until it was able to stand on the pond bed. Flesh turned hard and into black scales. New tissue engulfed its wings and tail and also got covered by rockhard scales.

Burning heat crawled up its throat, and furious flames burst from its maw. It broke through the pond's surface, and the splashed water evaporated immediately.

The dragon spread its wings, and they created waterfalls when they left the water. The wingspan was as big as half of the pond, and when it pulled them closer to its body ready for takeoff, the leaves and needles of the surrounding trees shook.

A thunderous boom announced the beast's presence, and it tensed its huge muscles.

When it thrust off the pond bed, the water turned into waves and flooded over the shore and soaked shoes and clothes. Branches broke like grass when the dragon's wings grazed them, and trees lost all their leaves from the harsh wind which got created.

A scent caught the dragon’s attention and it whipped its head around. A triumphant roar shook the earth when it dashed towards the direction the smell came from.

The beast ignored the scared brown-haired human that stared at it from a small campsite.

Geralt was grabbing some more branches when he saw some Celandine, and he swiftly decided to take them with him. They were always helpful, after all.

Putting the branches on the ground, he knelt and carefully tore the flowers and the not yet bloomed buds from their stems.

While he stored them, his thoughts trailed off to the mysterious man who accompanied him and Jaskier.

Y/N had sparked something inside of him, and now he was questioning his heart, which confused him even more since the person he found interesting was a man.

On the other hand, he couldn't quite tell if the feeling in his chest was something along the lines of romantic attraction or just common interest.

Deep down in Geralt's heart, he knew that him eyeing the other man's ass was definitely not something one would call a platonic interest, but he just couldn't admit that he, who never thought about other men like that, suddenly liked one.

He didn't feel disgusted, but the thought alarmed him.

He had seen a lot of things during his time as a witcher, and relationships between two men were never something that ended well. Various churches took care of that.

An image in his head made his fists clench unconsciously.

And there was still Yennefer. They never openly ended their relationship so... Was he still involved with her? He couldn't tell.

The Butcher of Blaviken sighed and then noticed a pebble in the moss. It had white streaks over its grey shape, and they reminded him of the scars in the foreigner's face.

Was he seriously associating weird things to Y/N now?

Maybe the other cursed him.

While he pondered some more about the other man, it took a while for him to notice that the forest had turned unnaturally silent.

Birds stopped singing as if they held their breaths in fear, and suddenly a roar disrupted the silence. It came from far away, but Geralt was able to hear it loud and clear because of his mutated hearing.

He abruptly stood up and turned towards the direction. It came from the camp, and Geralt's heart sank.

Please no.

He disregarded the branches he had meticulously collected and started to rush back the way he came from. Thankfully he had taken his swords with him, and he unsheathed the silver one.

The image of the bard and the foreigner being killed carried his feet forward and pushed him to almost inhumane speed.

He wasn't even halfway back when a shadow cast on the moss stopped him in his tracks. A gigantic black dragon soared through the sky, and his wings caused the surrounding trees to shake. Geralt could feel the wind pressure, and the aura that the beast released caused a shiver to run down his spine.

The witcher grinned darkly. That bastard had an impressive bloodthirst. Geralt's hunter instincts wanted to fight that monster, but his heart worried for his best friend and his potential love interest.

He cursed himself for not taking his small bag with the various vials with potions and bombs, but he had no time to get annoyed because the dragon suddenly dived down, and he had to roll out of the way or else he would have been crushed.

When he stood up again and turned, he came face to face with the beast's massive head, and his heart skipped a beat.

Y/N fought against such big monsters? Repeatedly?

His respect for the other man increased significantly.

Geralt couldn't avoid his legs to tense, but the dragon didn't attack. Instead, its e/c eyes examined him, and the witcher wondered if the monster's pupils acted like a human's because they widened considerably.

This is a dovah...

The beast was at least as big as a typical villager house, and Geralt was sure that the spikes on its body would cause massive damage to any attacker. The black scales seemed impenetrable, and the monster slayer seriously questioned his chances of survival.

He had already felt it before when he had run from the dragon. It wasn't an enemy who he could overpower. If he had to fight, it would be either an overpriced victory or death. But escaping wasn't an option anymore, the dragon's tail had trapped him before the beast.

His grip around his sword tightened, and he was ready to use Quen on himself when the beast shifted and held its head up high. A growl escaped from its throat, and Geralt tensed even more. Unexpectedly, the dragon spoke:

"Dii rii lovaas fah hi. Wo los hi? Hi los ni rok."

The witcher obviously didn't understand, but the voice of the dragon shook him to the core. It was as if someone was screaming in his ear, and he had to press his hands on them. For that, he carelessly let go of his sword, but he felt like his eardrums would explode at any time.

His chest tingled, and the echo of the dragon's word resounded through his whole body. Geralt's legs gave out, and he fell to his knees.

The beast lowered its head until its throat almost touched the ground, and then it snorted.

Hot air blew his hair back, and the Butcher of Blaviken came to his senses again. He needed to get his sword back! Right when he stretched out his hand to take his silver sword, the dragon crept forward until its snout was dangerously close.

Geralt froze. If the monster decided to eat him now, he would have no time to react. This was the end.

The realization hit him, and regret washed over him like a seastorm. There were many things in his life that he hadn't resolved yet—many things he wanted to achieve and also many things he wanted to try.

E/c eyes showed up in his mind, and his heart burned. If the dragon ate him now, would they meet in death?

His eyes flickered to the dragon, and that's when he realized something.

Although he had no time to elaborate the thought because the dragon moved its head forward until there was merely the distance of a hand between him and the beast.

He breathed out slowly, and his witcher heart beat faster. He wanted to face his enemy to the last second, but after so many fights, he thought that closing his eyes and embracing death that way seemed more peaceful and freeing. So he closed them and took one last breath.

I'm sorry, Ciri.

Seconds passed, where he only heard his heartbeat pounding in his ears. Until wind brushed his hair in his face, and he heard a sniff. A rumble shook the earth, and he slowly opened his eyes again.

The dragon breathed in and sniffed, its eyes closed, and Geralt couldn't believe it when the beast closed the distance, and the scaly snout touched his chest. Black shiny scales only a few centimeters from his face.

He searched the dragon's eyes, but they were closed. The rumble sounded again, and if he didn't know any better, the witcher would have guessed that the monster was humming.

When it opened its eyes again, and yellow and e/c met, Geralt had an unbelievable thought, and he whispered:

"Y-Y/N?"

The look in the dragon's eyes changed, and it pulled its head back abruptly.

A growl erupted from the beast's throat, and it only took a matter of seconds for it to tense its muscles and take off the ground.

Geralt was left in a daze, panic, and realization the only thing he believed to have seen in the dragon's expression.

Leaves fluttered to the ground, and the deep claw marks in the dirt before him were the only proof for the monster's presence.

What... What just happened?

The dragon had touched him. He slowly lifted his hand and put it on his chest. It's warm. The dovah had an unexpectedly high body temperature.

Why did it...? Y/N... Was it really him? H-How...

He remembered something the foreigner had told them.

His dragon soul was too much for his human body, and he slowly turned into a dovah.

"The dovahkiin..."

Geralt lifted himself off the ground and took off running to the direction the dragon left for.

The dragon didn't make it far.

Geralt saw him soaring through the sky and circling above a clearing in the forest. The witcher could see a small hut standing at the clearing border, and he remembered another thing that Y/N had told him and Jaskier.

I've been staying here in the forest for a few weeks in a hut half a mile from here.

Geralt slowly realized that his intuition was probably correct.

When he arrived at the clearing, the black dragon had already landed.

Although it was more like a crash. Long furrows plowed the forest ground. But the Butcher of Blaviken couldn't see the dragon lying there because a strange fog obstructed his view. He was hesitant about approaching the steam, but he really wanted to know if his theory was correct. A voice interrupted his twisting thoughts:

"Bormah, Bormah... Aak dovah!"

It was deep and raspy, and he didn't understand what it said, but Geralt could recognize it instantly. It was him.

Y/N was the dragon.

His whole body hurt.

"Why are you doing this to yourself?"

Blue eyes watched him with a worried expression. He didn't reply. What was there to say? The dovah needed to die. He was the only one capable of killing them.

Why couldn't he understand?

"Think about it, Y/N. You're one of them, so you shouldn-"

"Don't you dare compare me to them! I AM THE DRAGONBORN! Dii Zahkrii kriin Dovah ni aak niin!"

He knew he went too far as soon as he saw the other's expression.

Farkas stared at him with slightly widened eyes.

"Control yourself, Dovahkiin. Or else disaster will fall upon you and the ones you love."

Arngeir stepped forward and put a shoulder on his lover's shoulder. He could feel how his pupils flickered. Anger welled in his stomach.

"Don't touch him..."

His voice was low and threatening. Farkas scoffed, but his face only showed hurt.

"Don't worry about me, Dragonborn."

The distance in his words was like a thorn in his heart. The idea that Farkas couldn't understand his thoughts tore his heart in two. Y/N only watched when his significant other walked out of the room, Arngeir following him.

"Wa-Wait, Farkas, no!"

He reached out his hand to stop him, but the other man was already so far away.

"Akatosh, Akatosh, help me!"

Tears welled up in his eyes, and a wail escaped his lips.

Arngeir was right. Disaster fell upon him.

The skin shedding on his back, his pupils turning to slits, the increased usage of Dovahzul, all were signs for his slow transformation.

He couldn't believe that the stories Odahviing had told him jokingly were real. His dragon soul was changing his body and personality.

And now it had happened. He turned into a dragon.

How many times had he already done that? The witcher mentioned that the monster they were hunting tormented the villagers.

What had he done?!

The pain he felt after transforming was nothing compared to the pain in his heart. Y/N became the monster he had thought he was slaying when he had eradicated all the dragons from Skyrim.

The scars he had received from all the dovah burned, and shame clung to his heart.

Why didn't he listen to Arngeir?

The greybeard was wise and only wanted his best after the dragonborn distanced himself from the Blades. His loved one died because he didn't listen!

And now he... He turned into an inhumane beast.

Suddenly he remembered the bard. Did he attack him?! A sinking feeling struck his gut.

Please, no, no, NO!

What about Geralt?

Oh Talos... I have to return to the camp!

He tried to open his eyes, but his eyelids were heavy. He groaned.

What if the two others were bleeding out while he laid here? If the witcher died... Y/N was sure he could never forgive himself.

Farkas's death was something that he could slowly overcome, although it took him years, and he still hadn't let him go but... If the witcher's death joined, he was sure his shoulders would give in under all the regret.

Just imagining how these beautiful yellow eyes lost their light, he couldn't take it.

He didn't realize it immediately, but his heart was already in the hands of Geralt. He had already lost.

Y/N finally regained some strength, and he used it to open his eyes. His vision was blurry, but he could see that the sky had already turned dark blue.

He knew what lurked in the forest at night.

The thought reminded him again of the witcher. What an irony that it took the white-haired man less than a day to sweep him off his feet. It was the complete opposite with Farkas. Maybe they weren't that similar at all.

He turned on his side and soon realized that his back felt different. The cold wind gave his arms goosebumps, but his back felt perfectly warm. He lifted his arm and cricked it to reach his shoulderblade. When his fingers grazed his back, he sucked in some air.

That definitely wasn't flesh. That smooth texture... Y/N would recognize it everywhere. He had felt it so many times after all.

His back was full of scales.

Panic and adrenaline gave him strength, and he sat up, ignoring the pain that bolted through his torso. Only now did he realize that he was completely naked.

That shocked him less than the fact that only a few meters away stood the Butcher of Blaviken with wide eyes, his sword in his hand ready to attack.

"Y-You..." Geralt didn’t continue.

Y/N opened his mouth but didn't say anything as soon as he saw how the other man flinched.

His heart pounded loud in his ears, and he felt light-headed. He breathed in, it sounded strained.

A smile crept on his lips, and he grinned exhausted.

"Thank Talos, you're alive..."

The witcher didn't know what to respond.

He was frozen although he couldn't tell if it was because the person before him was a fire-spitting dragon or because the man was butt naked. Something that usually wouldn't impress him but after realizing that Y/N attracted him... He was conflicted.

"You... you turned into a dragon," he finally said with a neutral tone.

The man sitting in the crater nodded slowly. He looked as lost as Geralt felt.

Did he not know?

"Are you... Are you the dovahkiin?"

Y/N nodded again, and he lowered his head.

The witcher could see the shame on his face. After receiving this information, he didn't know what to do with it. It should probably agitate him, all the villagers that had their cattle stolen and all the lost prey on hunts, but Geralt felt nothing. The shock was perhaps too deep.

One is a sorceress, one a dragon. It seems like I fall in love with extraordinary people. Wait...

His eyes found the e/c ones. Did he really...? Y/n watched him with a conflicted expression.

"Do you want to kill me?"

The question surprised him; he hadn't thought about it. But he opposed it.

"Should I?"

His voice had a challenging undertone, but it sounded light, and his heart fluttered a little when the other man smiled weakly.

Geralt lowered his sword. Y/N didn't feel like a threat; in fact, he looked defeated.

The h/c haired man leaned back and exposed his torso. The witcher was right. Even his chest was full of scars, and most of them looked like claw marks.

A strong warrior.

"I caused you a lot of trouble. If I have to pay for it, I'll gladly do it with my life. It's not worth much anymore."

These words caused him to frown. The man sounded like he had already given up. Where was his will to fight?

The imposing aura Geralt had felt when he stood tall as a dragon was gone without a trace. This man was broken. He couldn't imagine what Y/N had gone through, but he wouldn't let a warrior like him die a fool's death.

"It's true. You caused me a lot of trouble..."

The Dragonborn watched him with an apologetic expression. Geralt eyed him from head to toe, his stare burning.

"But instead of paying with your life, why not pay me with something else?"

Y/N blinked and stared blankly, then he blushed furiously. The witcher’s heart skipped a beat.

Did Y/N also...?

It excited Geralt that he apparently knew what he was hinting at and reacted this strongly. It meant he had a chance. Then he remembered the ring. Geralt examined the naked man and realized the necklace was gone.

"Your ring..."

Y/N touched his throat. Nothing was there. Geralt expected his face to turn panicked, but only a melancholic expression showed up.

"It's fine. It's time to move on."

The witcher didn't pry further, but he knew he didn't have to. The smile on Y/N's lips said enough.

"So, how am I supposed to repay you?"

The man lifted an eyebrow and grinned. He gulped, he didn't expect the man to be this willing. Suddenly he felt bad about his desires.

"Toss me a coin."

The warrior from Keizaal tilted his head and puckered his lips. Then he smiled, and his e/c eyes turned into crescents. They looked happy. But most importantly, human.

Warmth spread in his chest.

He had a thought that his future would be a lot more interesting with the dovahkiin by his side and Jaskier.

Wait...

Both of them opened their mouth and shouted:

“Jaskier!”

_______

Endnote: Congrats! You made it! Like I said at the beginning, this fic is based on a headcanon of mine. Where the dragonborn slowly turns into a dragon because of his dragon soul. The dovahkiin is able to live a lot longer than any other human due to his dragon nature and it’s taking a toll on him. The scales are something I had imagined from the start. This is a drawing of my dragonborn which I used as inspiration for this fic:

I wanted the story to end in a rather light tone which some might not find appropriate but I honestly got a little exhausted. I wrote this as a oneshot of 12k words, which was definitely too much xD Writing so much is new to me. But I’m proud that I made it this far :)

I wanted Yennefer to play a part here but more like the one of a former lover. She was also a tool to give Geralt a reason why he likes Y/N since he’s officially straight in canon.

I already decided to create a fic where Geralt gets taken to Skyrim but I haven’t decided if it’s going to be a sequel to this yet. We’ll see I guess.

Some sentences that were spoken in Dovahzul were purposely not translated because it was either from Geralt’s sight or it was to show that the dragonborn was slowly changing. But they meant the following:

Dii rii lovaas fah hi. Wo los hi? Hi los ni rok = My soul sings for you. Who are you? You are not him (as in Farkas).

Dii Zahkrii kriin Dovah ni aak niin = My Sword slays dragons not help them

Thank you for reading and being patient with me :D

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chidoroki · 4 years

Text

“We Were Born”

So, this special chapter was.. nothing like I expected when we first learned about getting another extra TPN chapter? I was hoping for more backstory on another character, like the last three extra chapters gave us, but this new one was completely different (and a tiny bit of a let down if i can be honest?). I know placing this in the usual tag might throw people off, since literally no one from TPN shows up in said chapter (aside from Emma on the cover) but since it's done by Shirai & Demizu and is considered to be a pilot chapter to the series itself, I'm gonna chat about it anyway.

As you would expect, the world in this chapter is also unforgiving. There are no demons to be seen here, but civil wars that last centuries, where it’s the people themselves who kill each other. “Violence and criminals rule the city. Could you believe such a place exist on Earth?” (even though this place is fictional as well but.. *glances at Roanapur* yeah, i can believe it.) All joking aside, I think that this harsh world could parallel the human world in which Peter Ratri and Alex talk about in TPN ch173 & ch180 respectively.

Okay, so for our characters now.. is it me, or does Rita remind anyone else of Emma? I mean, I understand that's the whole point and probably why the two of them were on the cover together, but come on, look at that smile of hers! Even the eyes are like Emma's. The whole idea of living in foster care and how useful Rita strives to be towards others are obvious comparisons as well.

And Leo has, of course, jumped his way straight into my heart and no doubt earns his place there by the end of this chapter. This man just gives me serious Yuugo vibes and I'm all for it.

Honestly though, not only do I see similarities between Leo and Yuugo, but with Ray as well. The three of them are fully aware that the world they're living in is hell but as a sort of sole survivor among their family and friends, they question their own lives as they're tormented by those very people they lost.

As the focus moves back to Rita, we're faced with a very familiar reveal, but the truth still managed to shock me nonetheless. The man who wanted to adopt Rita only considered doing so in hopes to save Margo's life, his own daughter, with the help of Rita's organs. This setup reminds me heavily of the movie “The Island,” and you don't know of it, I'll give a quick summary. In the movie, the people live in an isolated community and are told the outside world is too dangerous to live in, with the exception of one island. Occasionally, one person is chosen via a lottery to leave the safe community and go live on this island to have a normal, free life away from everyone else.. forever. We later find out that these people are nothing but the clones of wealthy sponsors, who plan to use them for their own organ transplants, surrogate motherhood and other medical reasons, because who else would be a better compatible match other than yourself, right? So “winning the lottery” means these clones are essentially being lead to their own deaths instead. Hurray for false hope!

And as we would expect, Father is completely aware of this and enjoys revealing the truth to Rita way too much. I don't want to say he's the male counterpart of Isabella (because i actually love that woman and she's redeemed herself) but yeah, you see their roles are one in the same when it comes to being honest at least.

But Father also reminds me of Peter, especially here. I instantly thought of that one panel from TPN ch172 when he's like “An idiot! She’s an idiot!” So this goes without saying, but I hate both of them.

Leo on the other hand.. oohh, I simply love him! Go ahead and tell me those words of his wouldn't be perfect for Ray. Or Yuugo. Hell, literally anyone Emma saved could say this and I would cherish it just the same.

I'm genuinely sad this chapter will probably never be adapted into anything because I would love to see this man animated.

AND THIS ENTIRE SCENE! None of the TPN cast may be included anywhere in this story but the essence of the full-score trio is on full display here! Norman when Rita says she wants to live, Emma when Leo speaks about life's meaning and making your own choices, and Ray when Leo promises to live and even kicking down the door.

The chapter ends decent enough I guess. Father is seen limping away, so it’s fair to say Leo beat him up pretty good, which is fantastic. Leo stays alive after saving Rita, who appears to be helping other children. We see Margo too, and since Rita is off on her own, it sort of implies that Margo is still ill and won't live long. She doesn't seem upset by it at all though, since she overheard the conversation between Leo and Rita about living, Margo decides her meaning to life will be to write a story, which most likely alludes to TPN itself.

(hmm, no tpn backstory in sight and yet i still managed to ramble on quite a bit about this chapter. surprising. can we count that banner as a slight emma cameo though? because i am.)

#chidoroki used chatter #we were born #official #art by demizu

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panharmonium · 4 years

Text

more scattered naruto thoughts now that we’ve finished season 8 -

[spoiler policy disclaimer first, as always: I am watching naruto for the first time and have only gotten up to the end of season 8 (after pain destroys the hidden leaf village). i am trying to avoid spoilers, so please don’t interact with this (tags included, because the notifications now show them to me automatically) with any spoilery commentary, including even general things like “oh i love this show but it gets less good after X point” or “X season is better than Y season” or any general assessments of quality/likability/etc re: future seasons. Thank you! <3 ]

- i like the way S8 ended. i know that in real life maybe it wouldn’t be so feasible to just talk your enemy back to the light, but honestly, i don’t care. i love that shit. i love stories when people refuse to hurt the people who hurt them first, and then their seemingly inconceivable choice to refrain from striking back creates a connection (it’s the ‘return of the jedi’ effect, folks). i understand that it doesn’t work like that in real life most of the time, and i don’t recommend it for real life people trying to defend themselves, but i do love it in fiction. i LOVED how naruto went in pursuit of nagato to talk to him, not fight him. even though naruto says straight-up “i can’t forgive you” / “I want to kill you so badly i can’t stop shaking” - he still recognizes that his enemy is someone who’s been victimized, and he has enough compassion to feel pain on their behalf even when he himself is reeling from having his entire home destroyed and both of his teachers murdered by the person he’s confronting. his choice to control his (valid) rage and extend a hand in compassion is ultimately what changes the outcome and saves everyone who would have died, reversing the damage that was done, and i love that shit.

- absolutely adore yamato abandoning his own mission and taking off at a run to try and help naruto when he senses that naruto is losing control over the nine-tails. this man thought he was just a substitute teacher for a while there, but he’s become part of the family while he wasn’t looking.

- HINATA. oh my god i couldn’t even enjoy this incredible moment because i was so stressed out (and angry, at the time, because i really thought they were going to kill her, and that would’ve crossed my line). i want to watch this again knowing that she’s fine, because my anxiety over ‘fuck fuck fuck they’re actually going to kill one of the kids’ precluded me from even appreciating it appropriately.

- there’s been a lot of talk on this show about how sakura doesn’t have as much chakra as naruto or sasuke, but she heals people non-stop the entire time Pain is attacking and doesn’t show any signs of running dry. SHOW HER SOME RESPECT.

- CHOOOOOOOOJIIIIIIII! omg. i was so afraid that his father was actually dead, and SO RELIEVED that he was okay. you can’t do that to choji!!!

- also relatedly, how much do i adore choji for caring so much about kakashi? <333 i mean this kid is there sobbing over his dead body, and then he bursts out crying when kakashi comes back to life - i really appreciate these little ties between characters who aren’t always in close quarters but who do have a relationship. kakashi has been a teacher to ALL of the kids, and team 10 especially feels indebted to him - the respect and affection they all feel for him is very real.

- first time i actually thought ‘ok he’s cool’ with regard to minato was when he talked to the nine-tails so unfazed like “he’s a loudmouth. let’s go somewhere more quiet.’ i’ve been kind of so-so on his character so far, but i liked this.

- also later in that scene - the (rare) scenes we’ve seen where naruto totally breaks down absolutely kill me. it happened once when gaara was dead, and then there’s another moment in this episode when he’s talking to minato - whoever voices him does just incredible work in those moments, and it is SO PAINFUL to me because naruto is always such a happy kid the rest of the time and eternally optimistic and positive and excited and popping back up every time he falls down, and so when he cracks it is just devastating to see. i hate seeing him cry like that.

- similarly - that shot of sasuke at the end of the itachi arc wrecked me. naruto’s breakdowns are upsetting, but at least he allows himself to have them - when he gets pushed past a breaking point, he explodes. he cries and yells and spills every single thought in his head in front of everybody who’s around him, and after it’s done, things get better. he’s with people who care about him. he’s venting and making himself understood, and he always finds his equilibrium again.

sasuke, though, has been completely locked down ever since we saw him sneak out of the hospital to wander around the scene of his community’s mass murder, and he’s still locked down now, even crying all alone at the edge of the ocean. this moment isn’t cathartic. it isn’t a release. this is barely even a sliver of what this kid has going on inside him, and it looks like it’s agonizing for him to even let that much out.

- the scene where naruto is about to give up and give in to the nine-tails’s power...that exchange!!!!!!!

i don’t know. it hurts. i hate this. i don’t know. what should i do. i don’t know anything anymore. someone...please help me. give me...an answer.

destroy everything. erase anything that causes you pain. give me your soul, your spirit, your vital essence. give it to me, and in exchange, i will rescue you from your pain.

this whole exchange is amazing. the way naruto says ‘it hurts’...this is one of those scenes that expands to cover so much more ground than just what’s onscreen at that moment. what naruto overcomes here is precisely the trap that sasuke has not been able to escape. sasuke has never had any framework for dealing with pain that isn’t about pursuing vengeance. it’s the only way he thinks he can free himself from his pain - by putting all of his energy into destroying the people who hurt him.

but it becomes an endless cycle, because he never succeeds. itachi dies and sasuke feels worse than ever, so he turns his attention to the hidden leaf in an attempt to finally kill what’s hurting him. but even if sasuke were to raze the entire village to the ground, his pain would still be with him, and he’d then have to turn his attention to yet another target, because the alternative would be to recognize that he can’t escape his pain by destroying the things that hurt him, and that’s not something he’s able to accept right now. he’s spent half his life fixated on the idea that revenge can rescue him from how terrible he feels, and abandoning that idea now would mean that nothing can save him. it would mean that he’s going to hurt like this no matter what he does.

kakashi tried to warn him about this. he tried to tell sasuke that even after getting his revenge, sasuke wouldn’t feel better, that he’d only tear himself apart trying to achieve something that would leave him feeling empty - but sasuke was too entrenched in his own warped thinking to believe it. and ever since then, sasuke has been in the company of people who are happy to let him dig himself deeper and deeper into a self-destructive hole as long as it benefits their agenda. they don’t care if he’s hurting himself. they’re happy to see him suffering. his pain is a tool they can use.

- a note re: kakashi, when it comes to this topic -

i think it’s relevant to remember that kakashi never tells sasuke not to pursue revenge because it’s “wrong” or ethically questionable. he never delivers any moralizing speeches in the vein of “if you kill someone who victimized you, you’re just as bad as they are.” kakashi doesn’t think it’s wrong if itachi dies, and if sasuke were in a better state of mind, he probably wouldn’t even mind if sasuke were the one to kill him. that’s why kakashi is comfortable helping team 10 pursue asuma’s killers, after all - because they’re not unbalanced by rage or making self-destructive decisions; they’re acting with clear heads and pursuing a course of action that needs to be taken anyway (asuma’s murderers are on their way to the leaf to capture naruto - they need to be dealt with regardless). team 10′s kids can handle that mission - they’re thinking straight. they’re comfortable accepting adult guidance. they’re grieving, but they’re okay.

sasuke is not. sasuke has been deeply traumatized since he was a very young child, and encouraging his quest for vengeance is equivalent to validating all of the fucked-up thought patterns that are hurting him so badly - that it was his responsibility (as a seven year-old child) to protect his clan, that he was weak and cowardly for running away, that he needs to take itachi down as penance for failing to save his family, that killing itachi is the only way for him to justify his childhood survival, that killing itachi will free him from his pain. for kakashi to encourage any of these false convictions would be irresponsible and, ultimately, harmful to the child he’s supposed to be looking after. if sasuke gets his revenge on itachi, he’s just going to be left with the horrifying realization that his pain hasn’t lessened even the slightest bit, except that now he also has to deal with the additional trauma of killing someone he used to love.

kakashi doesn’t discourage sasuke from revenge because Revenge Is Morally Bad and You Are Morally Bad For Pursuing It; he discourages sasuke from revenge because in this particular case, sasuke’s fixation on revenge is hurting him. it’s unhealthy for him, and it will cause him worse pain in the future if he allows it to continue driving his life. sasuke is never going to feel better if he doesn’t stop distracting himself from his pain by focusing solely on vengeance. if he’s ever going to actually be rescued from his pain, he needs to face (and FEEL!!!) his grief, which is precisely what staying fixated on revenge allows him to avoid.

- relatedly: i just. am SO sick. of all these horrible people. getting their hands on sasuke. and using him for their own ends. when he has already been manipulated and victimized all his life. it makes me wanna SCREAM!!!! and i know that’s the point; we are supposed to be frustrated by this - but - hrnghghgnh

and like - it’s not like sasuke doesn’t know it’s happening! he’s not stupid! he knows the people around him are using him, and he just tries to use them back and play them before they play him, and he accepts that this is what his life is going to look like, and because he survives, he thinks he’s in control, but he has NO IDEA how far over his head he’s in now. and besides, he never stops to think that maybe his life shouldn’t look like this. he has no conception of ‘someone should be taking care of me.’ he’s never seen himself as a child who needs protection - he’s never seen himself as a child, period. it’s why he’s such a brat to the other kids, and it’s why he never calls kakashi ‘sensei.’ he thinks of himself as an adult. he has adult problems. he can’t connect to children his own age because he can’t connect to the idea of childhood - his childhood was stolen from him, and with it went any conception of refuge or safety or the fact that relentless self-sufficiency and a constant cycle of using/being used by other people isn’t in fact what his life is supposed to look like.

i am continually infuriated by all of these people who have abdicated their responsibility as adults and chosen to exploit an already exploited kid, one who is too messed up to save himself or let anybody else help him. none of these people care about him. they all want to use him for something. they’re happy he’s in pain, because his pain is what enables them to manipulate him.

the people who DO truly want to help him are the same people he’s desperately trying to avoid. the only adult sasuke ever had a meaningful and non-manipulative relationship with is the same adult he keeps running away from. and the only two people his own age who ever actually knew anything about him or cared if he was okay are the two people he keeps pushing away.

there is, perhaps, a lot to be said about how sasuke continually runs away from the people who actually care about him and instead affiliates himself with people he’ll never have to worry about forming a connection with. “having too many ties in this world just holds you back” - sure, and having no ties protects you, too. nobody to love you, nobody to know you, nobody you can ever lose.

#naruto #pan watches naruto

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okayjoonie · 5 years

Note

hi ,are the requests still open ? if they are can I request number 39 & 42 with seonghwa please thankyou❤

ᴀʟʟ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏ ᴘʟᴀʏ (M)

1.1k words

Involves oral sex (female recieveing), fingering, uh maybe some dirty talk, overstimulation, dom hwa and sub reader, explicit content

Notes: Thank you for requesting anon! I hope this is up to your standards, and I ask that you be kind since this is the first smut I’ve ever written. Hwa fucks me up so, this was fun.

Tagging @sweetheart--sannie and @kodabodaa because I like to fuck with people because I love youuuu

═ ═ ═ ═ ═ ═ ═ ═

In hindsight you think that it probably wasn’t the best idea to bother your boyfriend while he was concentrated, working meticulously at making the last few adjustments on the presentation for his upcoming meeting. He swore up and down that it would only take him a few more minutes at most, brushing off any of your attempts to interact with him in his state of concentration.

Or at least that’s what he had told you when you asked him about an hour ago.

You knew very well that this was a huge opportunity for Seonghwa, and he had been working on perfecting every facet so that the meeting would go as smoothly as possible. Hell, you even knew how harsh his boss could be, picking out every little detail, always finding something to criticize.

Still, those thoughts don’t seem to do a good job of quelling the growing ache between your legs.

Your eyes zero in on his form draped against the opposite end of the couch, his facial features contorted in deep concentration as the sound of fingers diligently tapping away at the keyboard of his laptop echo throughout the space. You can’t help but imagine those exact same fingers delicately brushing across the sensitive skin of your neck, stomach, and thighs as he—

“Y/N”

Your body tenses suddenly as his voice reaches your ears, effectively breaking you out of your lust induced haze. “Ah, s-sorry…” You stammer out softly, catching the plush skin of your bottom lip between your teeth.

The air around you feels much heavier than it did before as you focus on anything but the way you just know Seonghwa is giving you that stupid smirk, your cheeks warming slightly as you bring your knees up to your chest.

“Baby, look at me.”

The low timber of his voice vibrates deep within your chest as your eyes lock with his, and you’re almost sure that your need is practically tangible. The newfound hunger swirling within his deep orbs mirror yours as his brow arches slightly, that damn smirk plastered on his face.

“Just let me finish this and I swear I’ll go down on you till you cum at least three times.”

The whine that bubbles up in your throat at his words is humiliating as his smirk grows impossibly wider, his tongue deliberately poking out to wet his lips as he turns his focus back to the brightly glowing screen, “But Hwa—“

“But nothing baby.” He growls lowly, “You’re going to sit there patiently like a good girl while I finish my work.”

And wait you did, although patiently is not the word you would use to describe it, the uncomfortable stickiness soaking through your panties telling a different story.

Those very same panties were now discarded somewhere around the room as Seonghwas long tongue laps eagerly through your slick folds, your body twitching violently each time the tip of his tongue caresses your throbbing clit. Small beads of sweat trace the expanse of your sensitive skin, the gentle light emanating from his laptop sitting idly on the coffee table illuminating your arched form.

“F-fuck, Seonghwa..” Your thighs twitch and clench around his head as your fingers tug at his dark strands, head thrown back as you feel your second orgasm of the night begin to build quickly.

He delivers a harsh suck to your aching bud before he pushes two long fingers into your hole up to the hilt, the sound of your cries and the lewd squelching of your heat blending together as his pace quickens.

His unoccupied palm presses down firmly on your inner thigh as you feel the coil in your stomach grow tighter. His eyes are shut tightly as he focuses on bringing you over the edge, fingertips lightly tapping against your g-spot each time they enter your throbbing heat.

He pulls his mouth away from you suddenly, face covered in your essence as he curls his fingers upwards expertly, “you gonna cum for me again princess? Gonna soak my fingers, get em’ all messy for me?” His palm moves to press down on your lower stomach, dilated pupils zeroed in on your face contorted in ecstasy, “come on baby, give it to me, cum for me again.”

Your vision goes white as the coil in your stomach finally snaps, your lips parted in a silent scream as your body convulses under his hold. Seonghwa immediately delves back into your heat, catching the release spilling from your abused hole on his tongue. His fingers steadily slow to a stop as he laps up the last few drops of your essence, effectively riding you through your high.

The air around you is hot and heavy with the smell of sex as your chest heaves, your lungs trying their best to take in as much oxygen as possible as your eyes flutter tiredly. Your body relaxes against the plush couch cushions as you brush the sweaty hairs from your face, your head gently lulling to the side.

“You taste like fucking candy”

His breath comes out in hot puffs gently fanning over your sensitive heat as he eyes your worn out form. Before you can come up with a retort, he’s already brushing his tongue along your folds, the wet muscle stimulating your swollen bud once more.

The strangled cry that leaves you is almost inhuman as your thighs try to squeeze themselves shut around his head, his sudden assault on your abused heat causing you to squirm. “H-hwa… too much, m’sensitive” A broken whine escapes your throat as you attempt to push his head away from you, but to no avail as his hands lock your hips within his bruising hold.

The overstimulation is both painful and pleasurable, a perfect mix of torture and bliss, and you can’t decide if you want to push him away or pull him closer after already having endured two mind numbing orgasms.

Seonghwa seems to make that decision for you as he plants a few swift kitten licks on your sore clit before he comes up for air, “oh no, baby, you wanted my mouth, now you’ve got it” Little tears bubble up at the corners of your eyes as you gasp and claw at the couch, his thumb rubbing quick, tight circles on your bud.

“You’ve still got one more to go baby” He applies more pressure as his thumb rubs you a little faster, causing your back to arch painfully, “and after that, my sweet girl, I’m going to fuck this tight hole of yours till you’ve learned to have some fucking patience.”

In hindsight you think it was the absolute best idea to bother your boyfriend while he was working.

═ ═ ═ ═ ═ ═ ═ ═

#park seonghwa #seonghwa imagines #seongwha smut #park seonghwa smut #ateez smut #ateez imagines #ateez requests #ateez scenarios #ateez drabbles #ateez #seonghwa drabble #seonghwa reactions #seonghwa x reader #park seonghwa x reader #ateez x reader #kpop #kpop smut #ma works

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marmolady · 4 years

Text

Home for Christmas (Estela x MC)

Main Pairings: Estela x (f)MC

Summary: Endless Ending. It's Taylor's first Christmas off La Huerta, and the beginning of new traditions with her found family.

Word Count: 6127

Chronology: carries on from ‘Date Night’, and ‘When the Fight is Over’, precedes ‘A Proposal’.

Tagging: @saivilo, @edgydepressedchoicesthot, @sceptilemasterr, @greengroove

“We’re home!” Taylor called as she stepped through the front door, immediately hit with a wall of warmth and the smells of spiced candles and fir tree. “Happy Christmas Eve, everyone!”

Diego practically bounced to the door, and wrapped his friend in a hug. “Wait, does this mean you’re the gift? Talk about cheap.”

“Hahaha, you’re hilarious. Actually, you should be grateful to have me. I could be helping myself to seconds of Tio Nicolas’ natilla right now. Sadly, airlines don’t tend to let you bring custardy leftovers on board.”

Estela grinned, wiping her snow-covered boots on the mat. “It’d be mush by now anyway. I’m sure Tio will take much better care of it.”

A year ago, everything was so different. Christmas had been, at best, a bittersweet occasion, the shadow of all that had been left behind in a burning world. It had been Taylor’s consolation prize; she’d die in a matter of weeks, but at least she had a semblance of a proper holiday season with the ones she loved.

The share house, purchased by Estela with what had been Aleister’s inheritance passed on, had been somewhat emptier than usual; most of the Catalysts had been desperate to spend the season close to family after having thought them lost forever for so long. With all the space going spare, Aleister and Grace had taken up residence, forsaking their apartment so they could keep Diego company during what was a difficult time for him. Estela and Taylor had, of course, been in San Trobida with Nicolas, sharing a family Christmas Eve-- the first Estela had actually celebrated with her uncle since just a few short days before her mother’s murder. It had been strange to let the occasion be happy, but as the day wore on, she settled into the feeling, warmed by the clear joy in Nicolas. By the time they’d flown all the way back to the States and driven back from Northbridge airport, it was getting on for midnight… almost Christmas Day.

Grace came skipping down the hall, Aleister a little way behind her.

“Merry Christmas, you two!”

“Happy Christmas!” Taylor opened her arms wide, accepting another tight hug. “I can’t believe you guys all stayed up. We said it was gonna be late….”

“Oh, don’t be silly! We’ve missed you. So much I almost don’t feel bad about tearing you away from all that San Trobidan sunshine.”

Estela hugged Grace, who barely came up to her chin. Her sister. “Christmas is for family. Tio is Colombian, so it’s all about Christmas Eve for him… it kind of works well now that my family’s a little bigger.”

There was sadness in Grace’s eyes… deep and profound. Estela saw it there, and it made her heart hurt. She had a lot of things she’d like to say about Grace’s mother, but none that had their place here and now. How anyone could remain cold after over a year of separation-- a disappearance no less-- boggled her mind. But Grace was Estela’s family now, and that came with no expectations, no strings attached. Perhaps someday Blaire Hall would see what exactly it was that she’d been missing out on, but in the meantime, Grace would be given all the familial love she could ever need.

Taylor turned around from hugging a typically awkward Aleister to catch Diego’s eye. “Hey, if you want to check out your actual gift, try the back door.”

“Uh, Tay… what have you done?”

“Just go look! Jeez, so ungrateful….” Taylor exchanged knowing glances with the rest of her companions once Diego was safely down the hallway.

“Oh. My. God!” came a cry from the back room. “Ohmygod. I think I’m gonna cry… oh my-- Varyyn!”

Grace chuckled. “I think you guys just won Christmas!”

“I know, right?” Taylor said, grinning broadly. Having brought Varyyn to San Trobida a couple of days prior so he could fly into the States with them for Christmas was a big undertaking… but somehow they’d managed to keep the secret. “Whoever’s got Diego for Secret Santa is gonna have to bring it.”

Grace and Aleister followed after Diego, excited to reunite with a friend they’d not seen in months. For all intents and purposes, Varyyn was the thirteenth Catalyst-- and as far as anyone was concerned, as part of the family as anyone else. It would take some assistance from Iris’ wizardry with holographic disguises, but Varyyn would be kept safe, and given a holiday to remember.

Listening to the joyous chattering of her best friend as he hurriedly got the full story of Varyyn’s surprise visit right from the source, Taylor smiled to herself as she slumped against the wall, exhausted. Late nights were something she still struggled with since her recovery from Vaanu’s essence leaving her-- though the slew of parties that came with moving into a house with half the Catalyst gang had built up her resilience a little. She noticed a sprig of mistletoe hanging over the doorway to the hall, and sidled over. All those kisses she’d shared with Estela last Christmas… they’d been goodbyes. Taylor didn’t ever want to kiss Estela goodbye again; she wanted to kiss her to say ‘I love you’, or ‘I’m yours, forever’, or ‘sling me over your shoulder and carry me to bed’. Anything but ‘goodbye’.

Estela caught Taylor’s eye, and a smirk. Just a flash of a tease-- a dare. Such a freaking dork. And, of course, she had to go to her. She would always go to her.

Taylor swayed exaggeratedly, a pout on her lips, as she glanced --with all the subtlety of an army tank-- at the mistletoe above their heads. “So… are you gonna ki--?”

No further prompting was needed; Estela covered Taylor’s mouth in a searing kiss, while her hands roamed along her sides and back, holding… feeling. It was all she could do not to quirk a satisfied smile at the moan against her lips as her tongue swirled against Taylor’s. She could do this for… well, she could go without breath for fourteen minutes, but that could never be enough. How could she need air when she had this?

“I fucking love you, Taylor….” she gasped when she finally came away.

“...Buh…?” was the wordless sound that fell out of Taylor’s mouth as she wobbled on the spot. It took a moment for her to bring herself back to her senses, to return to earth from whatever heavenly realm she’d just been swept into. “I love you, Estela. I love you.”

She took Estela’s face in her hands, and kissed her hard, relishing the force, the passion with which her lover reciprocated. It was fierce and triumphant, all theirs after coming so close to it all being snatched away. My Estela. I’m yours, forever.

“Aw, what?” Diego exclaimed as he came into the hall, Varyyn’s hand clasped in his. “We’ve got a mistletoe traffic jam! Come on, Tay-- I haven’t seen him in weeks. Pretty, pretty please?”

Coming away with a little groan, Taylor looked into the disgruntled face of her best friend, at had to smile. It wasn’t possible to resent the interruption when She gave an exaggerated sigh. “Someone should’ve bought more mistletoe….”

“Hey! My expectations for kissing were so low--”

Taylor laughed, perhaps a little intoxicated by the lingering buzz of that kiss. “Oh, we’ll get out your hair. There’s some things best done with a little more privacy.” She wiggled her eyebrows at Estela, who was still looking at her as if oblivious to the presence of anyone else. All shining tenderness. It made her damn near melt on the spot. “Shall we?”

Estela nipped in for one last quick peck to her wife’s lips. “Okay… done.” She glanced to Diego and Varyyn with a slight smirk. “You two have fun. Before you have to fight off Grace and Aleister.”

Having dumped their backpacks unceremoniously to the floor, Taylor and Estela fell onto their bed in a mess of loving touches and joyous giggles.

“Happy Christmas, sexy lady,” Taylor purred.

Estela blushed, glancing away momentarily before stealing another kiss.

“Te deseo con el fuego ardiente de mil soles. Eres mia, amante. Mi todo.”

“I have no idea what you just said… so why do I have shivers going up my spine?”

With a breathy laugh, Estela snuggled into the crook of Taylor’s neck. My everything. She could never take for granted what she had, some miracle that had meant Taylor could stay, that this was not, in fact, a dream. But she woke up each morning, and there Taylor was, and it was a balm for every hurt she’d ever been dealt.

“Hey?” she murmured.

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“And… before we went to sleep… I wanted you to have something. Seeing as we’re actually doing gifts this year.”

Taylor quirked an eyebrow, playing cool when all she really wanted to do was dive in her drawer and bring out her own gift. She’d been working on it a long time. “Okay-- just give me a moment. I’ve got something for you too. I’ll just change into my PJs first; gotta be comfortable.”

While Estela quickly got into her pyjamas, she glanced over at Taylor, unable to hold back a smile. God, she was beautiful. Estela reluctantly turned away to rummage for her gift.

“Happy Christmas, Taylor,” she said, leaning in to kiss her lover’s cheek as she handed over the carefully wrapped parcel.

A warm smile spread across Taylor’s face. After the heartache the previous Christmas had come with, this was so wonderfully comfortable.

“Happy Christmas, ‘Stel.”

Taylor delicately pulled off the tape, trying not to rip the paper, and revealed a fat hard-cover book. It was heavy in her hands, full to bursting, slithers of paper peeking out the edges. A photo album.

“Wow, Estela… how did you do this?” she asked as she began to turn the pages. On the first page, the group selfie Michelle had taken just before the confrontation with Rourke-- which had been recovered from IRIS’ data bank-- and what followed was a chronological record of Taylor’s two years on Earth. There she was… holding a mewing pink kitten, a Valentine’s Day present… wind-surfing with Varyyn… dressed up to the nines for what had become the traditional Catalyst New Years-Multi-Birthday extravaganza. She’d not even seen most of them before. This must have been the complete repository of every photograph her friends had ever snapped on their phones during their year on La Huerta. Beside the photographs, her friends had scrawled notes and captions.“I mean, how did you get all these? Was everyone in on this?”

“Yeah, pretty much. Of course, you ask for help with these people and they go crazy with it. So it’s a little bit bigger than I first had in mind.”

More and more pictures. More and more memories. Taking her back to herself at her most weak and vulnerable, recovering from the release of Vaanu’s essence that had almost killed her. Friends crowded around her sick bed… then the celebrations that followed.

“There’s still room in the back,” Estela said. “For whatever it is next year brings.”

“Bring on 2020,” Taylor laughed. “I don’t think there’s anything it could throw at me I can’t handle; not now.” I’ve got you, don’t I? She looked up into Estela’s smiling face and loved her, her own eyes welling. “Thank you-- so much. Looking at this… I must be the luckiest person who ever lived. Nothing’s ever gonna be the same-- thank god-- but this time in our lives has been incredible, and this is just gonna keep it all with me. I love it. I really love it.”

Estela’s cheeks flushed. She could never tire of making Taylor’s face light up like that; glowing with joy. “Good. Because I love you.”

“And I love you too-- my starlight.” Taylor edged closer until she could tug Estela into a tight snuggle, and planted a soft kiss to her lips. Bliss. Then, she reached behind her pillow and brought out a squashy-looking present. “For you, my lover.”

Estela giggled and stole another kiss before accepting the gift. “It’s okay, I won’t have a meltdown this time.” Out of the wrapper fell a soft woolen bundle of dark blues and purples, accented with stars. An infinity scarf, homemade and endearingly lumpy.

“Taylor, it’s beautiful.” Estela hugged the scarf to her chest. She could feel the love interwoven through the whole thing, and the symbolism of the stars… and their forever.

“I tried to arrange the stars roughly into our constellations. Limited success, but if you squint--”

Estela hooked the scarf around her wife’s neck and tugged her in for a kiss. “It’s perfect, you dope. I absolutely love it. And I love you-- to the furthest star in the universe and back.” She took Taylor’s hands, and saw those stars in her eyes, shining just for her. “This just… feels like a dream. Like if a year ago, we’d wished and prayed to who and whatever the hell might have been listening… this is more than I could have dared hope for.”

“A scarf?”

Estela playfully swatted Taylor about the head.

“No, I know,” Taylor laughed airily. She leaned in and kissed Estela’s nose, her cheeks, her full, tender lips. This holiday season wasn’t an effort in consolation, it was a foundation being laid for a full, human life. Moments that would become traditions. “It’s everything I never thought I could have,” she said softly. “And I am just so, so excited to have this with you, year after year.”

“Me too.”

Leaving her scarf on, Estela snuggled under the heavy blanket and nestled in against Taylor. She yawned, happy-tired. It was a wonderful feeling, running from her head to her toes. She let her hands roam; caressing Taylor’s chest, torso, then venturing beneath her pyjama pants to settle between her legs.

Taylor let out a pleasured hum, but kept herself together enough to reciprocate; she did love a challenge. Her movements were slow, purposeful; knowing exactly how to elicit the whimpers that told her she’d got Estela coming apart in the best way.

The two lovers touched, caressed, kissed, until they lay, spent, in one another’s arms. Estela surrounded Taylor like a blanket; a protective shield. She’d gotten… better. No longer did Estela hold her wife in a vice-grip through the night, fearful that she’d be somehow ripped away. But the touch, close and persistent… she couldn’t settle without it. Someday, they both hoped, the sense of security in their new lives together would be enough. In the meantime, Taylor could sleep safe and utterly loved, her Estela keeping her close.

“Mmm… you ready to call it a night?” Taylor murmured.

Estela closed her eyes and nuzzled against her wife’s neck. “Mmhmm.”

“Ha. Sweet dreams, babe. And Merry Christmas.”

“You too, querida… night-night.”

_______________________

Christmas morning was slow and easy, with all three sets of couples content to take their time in rising. Between warm beds and tender arms… and no real reason to rush, it was inevitable that the share house would remain quiet long into the morning.

When everyone did rise, the atmosphere was incredibly relaxed; the quiet enjoyment of the company of close family refreshing. It would be soon enough that the share house would be once again bursting at the seams and pulsing with the sounds of another rowdy Catalyst gathering; saving up energy for what was to come was wise… and the pace suited everyone present. Rugged up in festive pyjamas and lounging before a roaring fire, the small family passed the hours with board games-- purposely bypassing the tantrum-inducing likes of Monopoly-- and giggling through ever more extravagantly acted out rounds of charades. It was all new to Varyyn, and he soaked it all up like a sponge, throwing himself into everything to the point where he was nearly matching Aleister for dramatic flair. Estela’s ability to act out absolutely anything with a perfect deadpan had the whole group in stitches.

This, Taylor was certain, was what her holidays were going to be all about. Her and her band of misfits had everything they needed in one another.

Taylor, dressed after having enjoyed a brunch so late it might as well have been lunch-- and not an early one at that--, found Grace on the front porch, sitting with a steaming mug of cocoa and just taking in the distant sounds of children at play a few doors down. On the snow-covered front lawn, Furball was gamboling around merrily. If Varyyn was going to be joining them for Christmas, it had only been fair to make it an open invitation, and the little magic fox had been too excited to see old friends to not be brought along. Taylor was now grateful that Grace had the company, even as she took a quiet moment.

“Are you okay out here? Al said you gave your mom a call earlier. I figured that might have been… stressful.”

A warm smile jumped to Grace’s face at the arrival of her friend-- her sister. The care there had the effect of lessening those stresses, fading them into the distance, where they no longer truly mattered.

“Hey, Taylor,” she said. “Yes, I got that call out the way; I didn’t want the worry to be hanging over me all day. We kept it short. It’s gotten more difficult to find an understanding, you know?” She gave a little sigh, and shook her head. “To Mom, it looks as if I’ve given up, stopped trying. But the only thing I’ve given up is chasing the approval I’ll never earn. All I can do is hope that someday, she’ll look and see the real me; and love that person.”

Taylor put an arm around Grace. “You know, I really think that will happen. Someday. It’s got to take a bit of adjustment for her….”

“And she’s not exactly used to being the one jumping through hoops,” Grace chuckled. “Even jumping through hoops that should take minimal effort. In the meantime, I’m happy. Really, truly happy. We never had Christmases like this-- she never had the time. This is nice. It feels like a real family Christmas… spending all morning in our pyjamas, siblings squabbling over something stupid….”

Taylor laughed. It was all good-natured, if occasionally little bit heated. Estela and Aleister were well-practiced at butting heads by this point, and Taylor had strong suspicions that Estela liked getting a rise out of him just to tease. She absolutely exasperated him. And they loved each other.

“Yeah,” she said, “maybe this is what our Christmases are gonna be. Our little family, glued together from all these broken pieces and somehow fitting just right. It’s weird; just about everyone has been shaped some way by their childhood memories of these holidays… I don’t have any of that nostalgia, or old sore spots… just this, now. I guess these days are what I’m going to end up all sentimental about.”

“I know it sounds strange, but… me too, Taylor,” Grace agreed, smiling as her husband’s voice floated out from the house, seeking her out. She couldn’t say when the last time was that someone had truly wanted her company at Christmas was, but those days were a thing of the past. “And right now, I think I want to be back in there, soaking it all up. Come on.”

“Should we put a movie on while we’re waiting for everyone?”

“Tay, you know my response to that. Maybe Home Alone or something. Should go down better than Muppet Christmas Carol did the other day….”

“Good god,” Aleister scoffed, “that was a mistake. Poor Charles Dickens, rest his soul, his timeless tale could not have been more lost on--”

Estela strode into the room, as if on cue. “The fucker, Scrooge knowingly killed so many people-- including that future version of Tiny Tim, which we can safely assume because it was the bastard’s ‘change of heart’ bullcrap that saved him.”

“Well, Tim wouldn’t have lived if Kermit-- I mean, Bob Cratchit-- hadn’t embraced the changed man before him. The point is redemption. ”

“Yes, he would. Scrooge was so desperate not to die himself that he’d keep the whole damn town fed and housed. Doesn’t mean you’d invite the cockroach in and share dinner with him. Those people were idiots!”

“You might even say they were… muppets,” Diego piped up, a glint in his eye.

Aleister groaned heavily, so utterly done, while Taylor snorted with laughter.

“Home Alone it is, then,” he muttered.

The main event, the full Catalyst family gathering, would be taking place later in the evening. Even with families at home to re-connect with over Christmas, the pull to be together was present in each and every one of them. No one else-- no one at all-- could ever truly understand. The sense of belonging, of security found in those who’d weathered the same storms, created a need that was deep and profound. Stepping away would be gradual, and for this first Christmas home, that the twelve would not remain parted. Raj only had a short flight from his grandmother in New York, so he was first to arrive back home. Both the duos-- Craig-and-Zahra and Michelle-and-Quinn-- had longer flights between home and the families they’d shared most of the holiday with, but arrived in at Northbridge airport at near the same time, so Sean had pre-arranged to play taxi after a Christmas dinner with his mother and brother. Jake would be the straggler. Louisiana was rather more of a trek, and after all those years in forced isolation from his family, he would not be rushing for anyone.

The backyard had been transformed into a nighttime winter wonderland, a snowy playground adorned with lights that changed colour to the beat of Christmas songs piped out into the winter air. A snowball fight stretched across the hours, and carols were easily drowned out by the accompanying shrieks and shouts of laughter.

When Taylor crashed down into the snow beside her wife, she was soaked and shivering from taking hit after hit, and still grinning from ear to ear.

“Well, you put up a valiant fight,” Estela laughed. “Especially because Sean is, you know, pretty much a professional at throwing stuff. If you like, I’ll get back out there and avenge your honour… for a price.”

“A kiss?”

“Well, that would be hard to resist.”

Estela leaned forward, catching the warmth of Taylor’s breath on her lips as she moved in for a tender kiss. When Taylor came away with a happy sigh, they pressed their foreheads together.

They settled down, side by side, looking out over their friends as they laughed and played. The energy was different. Emotions were running high, everything felt on a new level, one that no one beyond this found family could ever understand. No one else knew just how much was being celebrated that Christmas… no one else knew all that had once been lost.

For Taylor, it was validation for the leap of faith she and Estela had taken together, the one that very nearly had cost their future together.

“Michelle was just telling me,” she said, “her mom flew out to Colorado to have Christmas with Quinn’s parents. Quinn’s parents like… together, in the same room, actually getting along. And it was three years, Meech said, since she’s seen her mom at Christmas. She just looked so happy.”

She snuggled close, tucking her arm through Estela’s, and nuzzling against her cold cheek. On a night like this, she couldn’t have any regrets. On a night like this, she could rest her so often troubled mind and know, they’d made it. She whispered kisses through Estela’s hair, against her ear, red with cold, her rosy cheek, the edge of her knowing smile.

“It’s going to be okay now, Estela. My starlight,” she said softly.

“I know. It’s like something you can physically feel. Like everyone’s just floating on a cloud. That kind of pure relief.” Estela hadn’t even felt that when the war ended, when the son-of-a-bitch Salazar took his own life and in doing so set his country free. She’d had her own wars still to fight, both against Rourke and within her very soul. When Taylor had awoken after her sacrifice to save the world, the fear in her had lingered on. Time was Estela’s healer; time allowed her to trust that life could be kind to her, that she was not inevitably hurtling towards darkness and despair and loss. Sometimes, things just got better.

She found Taylor’s fingers, surely as painfully cold in the night air as her own, and squeezed.

Diego came running up to them. “Hey! I’m just about to head to the airport with Varyyn. I should be an hour, tops.”

Taylor’s face registered surprise. How late was it? “Shit, Top Gun’s landing soon!”

“Ha, yeah… that’s my point. Doesn’t time fly when you’re having fun?”

“We could come with if you like.”

“Thanks, Tay, but I actually wanted to take the time alone with Varyyn. Make the most of what we have-- and it’s dark out, and hardly any traffic; it’ll be nice for him to get out and see the town without too much risk.”

Taylor nodded, understanding. “Okay. But you drive safe, you hear? If you end up dead in a ditch because you can’t keep from kissing him for five minutes, I swear I---”

Diego cut her off with a hug. “And you, don’t drink too much. You are the world’s biggest lightweight.”

Estela sniggered. Taylor’s ability to stand up to the effects of alcohol had been one of the hits she’d taken as a side-effect of her giving back Vaanu’s essence. “I’ll say. Now the driving’s taken care of, I’m pretty sure I’ll be needing to hold her upright within fifteen.”

“Oh, you two are hilarious. Fine. I’ll be good if you will. Now get out of here and bring our pilot home-- Craig is desperate to get Secret Santa started!”

Secret Santa was the big event. The one everyone had been waiting for. It had taken Taylor a good deal of scheming and bribing and trading, but she’d managed to secure for Estela the ideal Secret Santa recipient for the brilliant couples gift that she had in mind. For hours upon hours they’d toiled together on their secret project, with Taylor enthusiastically teaching Estela to knit for the purpose. It was only a couple of nights ago that they’d finally finished off their respective masterpieces.

Taylor was practically skipping when she presented her gift to a distinctly nervous-looking Zahra.

“Why do I have a bad feeling about this?”

“Open it, Z!” Craig exclaimed.

Estela hurried over, her own worryingly lumpy parcel in hand. “Hey, Craig! You should open yours too. It’s kind of a set.”

“Why do I have a very bad feeling about this?”

An eager crowd formed, jostling to see what it was Zahra was fussing about.

She pulled open the wrapping, determined to witness whatever disaster awaited her before Craig opened his… and found in her hands a very large bright red Christmas sweater, ‘Player One’ emblazoned in big woollen letters on the front, and ‘P1’ on the back.

“Um, Taylor… you remember when you almost killed yourself restoring the world, right?”

“Kinda sticks in the memory, so… yeah.”

“ I stayed up all night, with Estela in the worst possible mood-- have you met bad-mood-Estela?-- making sure you didn’t drop dead; three long, soul-destroying nights in a row… and this is the thanks I get?”

“Bro! I love it!” Craig hollered, holding up his ‘Player Two’ sweater. “Best freaking present ever-- when I die, Imma get buried in this thing!”

“So, uh… mixed reviews?”

“If you think I’m gonna wear this---”

“Put it on! Put it on! Put it on!”

Zahra glared at Taylor, then Estela, while Craig’s chants were taken up by the whole group. For fuck’s sake. I knew friends were a mistake. I should have stayed dead in that goddam temple.

“Put it on! Put it on!”

Jake barked a laugh, offering Taylor a gift of his own. “Nice one, Princess! You’ve set the bar high-- as if there was ever any doubt-- but I’m pretty sure you’ll like this.”

She opened her heavy present to find a gently-used old sewing machine. Her eyes lit up. It had been a passing, passing mention that with so much knitting under her belt that she’d wanted to give sewing a try as well, but apparently it hadn’t gone unheard.

“Oh my god!”

“Ma hadn’t used it for ages, and when I told her I was after something for you, she wanted you to have it. Consider it a thanks from both of us for all you did while we were dealing with the courts.”

Taylor found her eyes stinging. She didn’t need thanks, he was good as a brother to her. “Wow, Top Gun. This is…. surprisingly--”

“...surprisin’ly thoughtful?”

“That’s it. Surprisingly thoughtful,” she laughed. When she looked up and caught Jake’s eye, though, she knew he got it. There was nothing surprising about it, after all they’d been through together, she’d never expect anything less than thoughtful-- but she’d be damned if she let the old joke die.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the present-exchanging horde, Sean handed to Estela a small, soft parcel. “Happy Christmas! I hope you like it.”

“Thank you, Sean, I really appreciate it. I’d say you didn’t have to but… Secret Santa… I guess you��re probably expected to actually get your person something.” No doubt she was flushed red, awkward as ever, but accepting gifts was another thing she was slowly getting better at. She unwrapped her gift carefully, saving the paper and appreciating the care that had gone into the neat wrapping and embellishments.

Sean chuckled, not unkindly. “That is the general gist. But it’s my pleasure, really.”

Estela unfolded a lightweight muted green and grey Hartfeld University sweatshirt. She couldn’t help the smile that lit up her whole face. “I guess this means I’ve got to stick around?”

“You’d better.” Sean grinned as Estela put her arms around him, laughing. Damn, they’d come a long way. “I know you never intended coming here to be anything other than a means to get closer to your goal, but really, that’s why everyone comes here. If anyone’s a Knight, you are.”

“Thanks. Really… I love it.”

“KNIGHTS!” Craig boomed.

“Uh, yeah,” Estela said. “That.”

With gifts and hugs exchanged all over the place, everyone began to wind down. For most of the gang, the day had been an exhausting one, crammed with emotional family get-togethers and flights across the country. As mattresses and sofa pillows hit the lounge room floor, there was a shared relief, and tired Catalysts began dropping like flies.

Huddled in a couple of beanbags, Taylor nestled into Estela’s chest and the soft fabric of her new sweater, wrapping her arms around her and sighing with contentment.

“Happy Christmas, lover….”

“Mmm…,” came Estela’s sleepy reply. “Happy Christmas, mi alma…. Love you.”

“Love you too. Always.”

Within moments, Estela was slumbering peacefully, her little snores making Taylor’s heart near burst with affection.

Through half-lidded eyes, Taylor looked upon her family around her, yawning or already dead to the world after one insanely hectic holiday. It wouldn’t always be this way. It couldn’t be. Over the years, they would drift their separate ways, cherish the time spent with loved ones elsewhere as old traditions and new played out. But Taylor was certain that they’d never truly grow apart. Some things were just far stronger than the tests of time.

From across the room, Varyyn exchanged a knowing look with Taylor, smiling wistfully as he continued to gently stroke his fingers through a sleeping Diego’s hair.

“G’night,” she mouthed, then let go of an exhale of contentment.

It didn’t matter how long this lasted; what was important would remain. As long as she had Estela in her arms, and her family loving her from however far they had to be, she’d always be home for Christmas.

#catalyst family feels #estela x mc #endless summer #playchoices #estela montoya #variego

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thethoughtsfromthreeam · 4 years

Text

A Work of Art

Pairing: The Mandalorian/ Din Djarin x Reader

Warnings: None

A/N: @mandowhorian posted a prompt that came across my dash and goddamn it, I had to write it. Why does my brain do this to me when I got another fic to finish?

Also @amarvelousmandalorian wrote a ditty that gave me the jump I needed. Won’t ever be as good as some people’s but whatever, I had to get it out on paper, so to speak.

Reminder: I ain’t ever seen Pedro Pascal in FUCK ALL, I’m just coming up with this as I go along, using imdb.com, wiki, and 84,000 tabs I got open to plan out this shit. I also write soft versions of his characters so if you’re craving asshole vibes, I ain’t got any but my own to offer.

Tags: @zeldasayer , @romanticgumchewer, @beskars , @coolmaybelateruniverse , @the-feckless-wonder, @lavenderl3mons , @pascalisthepunkest , @mandoandyodito , @randomness501 , @fioccodineveautunnale

---***---

When she heard footsteps coming up the walkway, she rose from her chair to open the door. She had just finished setting the table up for a meal, wondering if the man coming to her was going to enjoy her baked goods. At least the house smelled of warm sugar rather than the bitterness of oil paint that usually permeated the space.

“Mandalorian!” She called, waving at him with a large smile on her face. She made a small note that his arms were empty of the little green being he had taken under his wing. “I didn’t think you’d reach me by sundown, the rains have made the forest roads a little treacherous. Come in, the tea is almost ready!”

He stopped in his tracks, confusion radiating off him and she laughed. She was his bounty and she was inviting him in for tea? As he began to walk again, his steps were less certain as if he expected her to ambush him. He kept his hand near his blaster and continued up the stone pathway.

When he entered, the room seemed to shrink to half its size and for a moment, the Mandalorian felt awkward and unsure. He mentally berated himself for letting these odd thoughts invade his mind. She was the damn bounty and who cares if he was practically a bull in a china shop in her home? She was coming with him and it wouldn’t be hers for much longer.

“Where is the little one? I hope you haven’t left him on the ship unattended. I thought you’d have learned not to do that. No matter, we can make up a basket for you to take back. I’m sure you hardly have anything homemade in your storehouse.” She busied herself preparing plates of food and motioned for him to sit as she poured tea into heavy cups made of local wood. He didn’t move, completely unnerved by her comments. In the blink of an eye, he drew his blaster and pointed it at her. She merely smiled and his irritation grew.

“How do you know about the kid?” He growled at her, the hairs on his neck standing on end. What the hell was going on? Nothing about this seemed right to him.

“Exactly how I know about you, Din. And why you’re here. Please sit. I know you won’t eat with me around, but we can at least chat a bit.” When he didn’t move, she looked at him pointedly. “You sat on this job for four days even though you knew it could be done in twenty minutes. Sit down.”

She had him there. He sat down with a large thump and she worried he would break the wooden chair, sending himself sprawling into the stone wall behind him. She giggled a bit at the image, wondering if he’d knock himself senseless in that helmet of his. He pointed the blaster at her again.

“Talk, bounty.”

“I am Force sensitive, much like your little one and I know the Empire wishes to use us to regain power in the galaxy. That’s why you were sent after us.”

“Okay, but that doesn’t tell me how you know me or my name.” He still sounded hard, but he wasn’t growling at he any longer. Only a select few knew his name and no one since Mandalore had fallen had spoken it directly to him until Moff Gideon said it on Nevarro. And now this woman was speaking his name as sure as if they had been paired all their lives.

“I’ve always known you.” Behind the mask, Din’s jaw dropped and his hold on the blaster wobbled a bit.

“How?”

“The Force. Come with me.” When she rose, she skirted the table and laid a hand on his shoulder. Even through the layers of cloth and beskar, he could feel her warmth. He angled his helmet to look at her before standing up. He towered over her, his suit of armor crowding her out. She turned and walked through a small door and motioned for him to come in.

When entered he stopped and in his state of shock, the blaster fell from his hand. He was surrounded by. . . himself. The walls covered in images of his face in different mediums – oil, chalk, crayon, pastels, acrylics, ink, and even embroidery. No two pictures were the same and he slowly began to walk around the studio, taking it all in.

He saw his face as a child before it went under the helmet and there in a pencil drawing was his face after a night out with Ran’s crew. He looked up and saw a small portrait of himself holding the kid with the mudhorn insignia behind them. All around him his face – his history – was charted on these walls. Goosebumps broke out on his skin as he turned, seeking answers.

“When was I was ten, the Force began to grant me visions and sight. By the time I was fourteen, I saw your face for the first time. I was so in tune with your essence that I begun to draw you, to try and figure out who you were to me.”

“What did you discover?”

“You’re my soulmate.”

“Your what?!” He barked out a laugh, utterly shocked at her words. Soulmate? People really believed that tripe? He shook his head.

“How else to do you explain any of this?” He shrugged until she pointed to a picture on the mantle. He walked over and his breath hitched in his throat. It was his face on Nevarro, right before he nearly died. It was a harsh painting, dark with heavy blots of paint. The image was almost grainy, and he could feel pain radiating from it, but he wasn’t entirely sure if it were his or hers. He shuttered as he turned away.

“I watched you nearly die, Din. I felt it in my very core as your life force leaked from you and a part of me was taken with it.” She walked up to him and raised her hand. She tapped the back of his helmet, right over where the scar was. “Here. Right here is where my life nearly ended had it not been for a droid.”

There was no way for her to have known what transpired on Nevarro nor where his scar was. And yet, she did and when she touched his helmet, it was as if there was no metal between them. He could almost feel her soft fingertips along his skin.

“I do not know why the Force thought a Mandalorian would be good for me. But it did. And I have been haunted for years as you were reckless with Ran. I watched with pride as you became the most feared bounty hunter in the galaxy. My heart clenched when you showed what a good man you are Din Djarin when you went back for that little one and saved his life. And I know you have thought about me.”

“What? I’ve never seen you before in my life and certainly I haven’t felt anything like you’re describing.” His goosebumps were turning to shivers that he tried to ignore – little fissures of truth coming out of the darkness to shame him. This was too weird, and he shook his head as if to clear everything. A simple bounty, that was all this was supposed to be.

“Give me your hand.” She looked at him and he looked down at her. When he didn’t move, she asked again. This time he complied and held it out to her. She looked at him while removing his glove, exposing his calloused hand to her. She laid her own soft hand on his and closed her eyes. Din stood rock still as he could feel her in his mind, in his soul. Her voice sounded in his brain.

“Din. Remember.” His eyes closed and suddenly a rush of memories came to him. Gut-wrenching tears as he laid dying. A smile that rang with laughter that he heard on the wind after receiving his sigil. A horrified gasp as he shot IG-11. A small caress filled with warmth as he laid in the Razor Crest while tracking a bounty on Hoth. A voice telling him to go the other way as he got lost in the jungles of Byss. A pair of eyes staring at him with love as he renounced Ran’s crew and left. Even further back to days on Mandalore when a girl made eyes at him that he didn’t return because the specter of a face in his mind told him to wait for her.

He gasped loudly as these broken images formed together into her. His bounty. She had always been there and yet she hadn’t. He opened his eyes to watch her staring at him with a calm look on her face. Those eyes, her voice, that face. He knew something about her bounty puck photo seemed familiar to him and yet he couldn’t ever place it. Now he knew why.

“How is it that you see me fully, but I couldn’t see you?” His voice was quiet, and he curled his hand around hers. Her smiled returned.

“You’re not Force sensitive to tune into the connection. But it was there for you, and it showed itself when it could or when your guard was down enough for you to feel.” She stopped smiling, brows knitting in concern. “Are you going to turn me in?”

“Hell no.” She let out a laugh.

“So, you’re just going to go around collecting Force-sensitive beings and protect us all from the Empire, then?” He stood there and dropped his head back, groaning. Oh Maker, he was in it now.

“Yeah, sounds like it.” He pulled his head forward to look at her. “I don’t know what this is between us, but I need more answers.”

“It’s a lot information, though, Din. It’ll take some time.”

“Come with me. We’ll make the time.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He knew that despite the helmet that she could see his grin. He knew because her smile looked just like his.

#the mandalorian #the mandolorian x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #fanfic

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bastillewolf · 4 years

Text

Emeralds & Sapphires (I)

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield/Reader

Summary: When the King Under The Mountain is deemed ill once more by the Grey Wizard himself, he falls under the care of a strange woman, who claims to be a healer. But even she couldn’t comprehend the severity of the situation, or everything that would follow.

Notes: I’ve always had a big crush on Thorin, yet never had the guts to write about him, as Middle Earth is a very intimidating universe that I do not know enough about. I apologize for any mistakes, and must warn you that updates are not weekly, as I have two major fics I still need to finish first. This one’s just for fun.

I promise the next chapter will be much longer, by the way. Oh, and fuck BOFTA. No one’s died.

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list!

Chapter I - Calentiris

“And who might you be?”

The dwarf before her held a defensive stance, his spear tilting dangerously close to her neck. Naturally, however, she remained calm, as it was not like her to feel outraged by such primitive behaviour. She was above that, having seen more unnecessary violence in her lifetime than these mere mortal folk ever would. They didn’t know any better.

“I do believe that’s none of your concern,” she replied sternly, “However, as time is of the essence, I request an immediate audience with Gandalf. Tell him the Green Wizard sent you.”

The dwarf’s eyebrows nearly hit the edge of his hairline with the incredulous look he gave her.

“You shall do as I ask, master dwarf, or something worse shall befall you other than a rude introduction.” Her irises grew dark, her voice heavy, and the spark of electricity running through the sky seemed to be what did the trick to get the guard to listen.

Not long after, a familiar figure clad entirely in grey appeared in the grand doorway of Erebor. He opened his arms towards her in greeting. “Calentiris, how good of you to come.” He was slightly out of breath, and if she hadn’t known him all her life, she would’ve probably been fooled by his old man act and offered him assistance. But since this was not the case, and she was clearly not sympathetic over his antics, he took notice and got straight to the point. “We need to speak in private.”

As she followed him through endless hallways and stairwells, she couldn’t help but voice her thoughts. “I thought you would be done with these dwarves by now, Gandalf. Weren’t you only supposed to be a guide to help them get their home back?”

“Yes, and I did. But I made a promise; that I would get them home safe.” He turned to her and looked her straight in the eyes, something dark and worrying looming on the tip of his tongue. “The king is ill. And I do not think it would be wise to leave him here without proper aid. I’m not only doing this out of the goodness of my heart, Calentiris. I’m trying to prevent a war from happening between the same people who once stood united against the orcs of Moria.”

He continued their journey, with her following closely behind. “Saruman will not be pleased about this, Gandalf.”

“Saruman doesn’t need to know, as far as I’m concerned,” he grumbled in response, not even bothering to look back at her. She smirked.

***

“Who is that?” a dwarf spat, only moments after the doors had been closed behind them. Gandalf had led her into what appeared to be a conference room, with only three chairs filled, and the king’s seat empty.

On the left of the intricately large piece of royal furniture, sat a dwarf with hair as white as freshly fallen snow, and beard almost reaching his middle. Next to him, was the grump who had asked the question, and he seemed fitting for the part. His head was almost entirely bald, but covered by intricate tattoos in a language she’d only seen fragments of before. Khuzdul, she recognized. Two axes were slung across his back, and she was sure those weren’t just there to intimidate.

She met a pair of hazel eyes sitting across from the brutish man. His golden hair was intricately braided, bearing many beads and different patterns. She sensed that he was apprehensive, but perhaps also the one who was least concerned by her appearance.

“This, master Dwalin, is the acquaintance I spoke to you about. She might be able to help us on this matter, so you’d be wise to behave properly. She is a lady, after all.”

Both Dwalin and the Green Wizard rolled their eyes, as Gandalf merely grinned with satisfaction.

They stepped towards the table, and introductions were made quickly.

“Balin, at your service.”

“Fíli, at your service.”

Dwalin… At your service.”

She nodded to each of them, raising a brow at the golden-haired dwarf who seemed to look at her with so much underlying desperation she almost felt the need to take a step back. But knowing who he was, and the state of worry he must be in for his uncle, she understood.

“At yours. I am Calentiris, also known among many as the Green Wizard.”

“Calentiris?” Dwalin scoffed, “You best go under a different alias around here, lass, for most of our folk won’t utter a word of Elvish.”

“I appreciate your concern, master Dwalin, though I dare assume that the only folk I’ll be speaking to are the decent kind, as I take this is an urgent matter only your closest will be familiar with.”

The dwarf’s eyes narrowed at the underlying insult. “If you’re saying what I think you’re saying-“

“You’d be right, mistress,” his brother interrupted quickly, before any more damage was done, “As our folk are most certainly the decent kind, only guarded towards strangers. You must understand.”

She gave a nod in response. She couldn’t blame the people of the mountain for their grudge against the elves, not whilst their history books clearly stated that they never forgave, and never forgot. However, for them to show any form ill intent towards those who might be acquainted with elves was a bit dramatic, even for her standards. It would rule out a lot of humans, hobbits and other kin alike.

“I’m afraid must cut our small talk short,” Gandalf gave her the side-eye, “As more important matters await. I do apologize for the curt message, Calentiris, but things have turned for the worse the past few days. It couldn’t wait.”

“What’s happened?”

Fíli stepped forward with a grave sense of severity.

“Thorin struck my brother.”

And the room fell deathly quiet.

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atlas-tries · 4 years

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Shatter Me Chapter 4: Patton Quest

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Summary: The worst has come to pass. What will the main three (and Janus) do without Patton?

Notes: Well! Maybe things will be looking up for the sides! Maybe! This is quite the lengthy chapter, so I hope you all enjoy! (And yes, I realize this is coming a little earlier today than normal, but alas, what is life without at least one chapter of whimsy?)

Virgil didn’t dare move from where he stood, once cradling Patton’s head. Now, there was barely a sign that he’d ever been there, only weeping shards left in his wake. It was starting to soak into Virgil’s pants and hoodie sleeves, but he didn’t notice. All he could see was the sinister blue covering the table and flowing onto the floor. His heart exploded in his ears, nearly deafening in the silence that gripped them.

It was kind of funny, really. Virgil had such a penchant for being wrong when he got into one of his moods. So why was it that the one time he wanted so desperately to be wrong, he wasn’t? One of his worst fears had come true and he’d been powerless to stop it. The universe could be so cruel.

“P-Patton… wh-why did it have to be Patton, of all sides?” Roman softly sobbed. He still held on to the splintered fragments of Patton’s hand.

Logan wiped at his eyes with his shirtsleeve and readjusted his glasses. Blue fingerprints lingered on the frames. “There was nothing else we could’ve done.”

Virgil swallowed thickly. “Wh-why was he so afraid to talk to us about this?” he asked.

Roman puffed up. “He wasn’t! How dare you even suggest that we were the ones to put him into this situation!” he cried, tears mixing with the puddles of bright blue. Logan put a firm hand on his shoulder and for once in his life, Roman backed off.

“Alright, Sir Jumps-a-lot,” Virgil started, but was caught off guard by a little golden orb floating through the window. “Is … is that a thought?” Two more rose from where Patton had been sitting. They drifted closer to the center of the table where Patton’s shards still rested. Once over him, they simply hovered, absorbing the blue essence beneath them. “What are they doing?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never seen this happen before,” Roman replied, transfixed on the sight of the thoughts.

All at once, they became restless, boiling rapidly beneath the surface and madly flitting around the room like three loose Golden Snitches. “Hit the decks!” Roman cried, taking cover beneath the table. Virgil followed.

One just missed Logan before he dropped beneath the table. They grew and quickened, slamming into the walls with deafening shrieks. The castle shook with every blow. “Oh God oh God oh God,” Virgil mumbled under his breath, like praying would send these abominations away.

A huge crash sent rocky shrapnel flying in every direction. Virgil felt the impact of several smaller pebbles against his body. Then it was quiet. Virgil finally uncovered his head after a few seconds and looked around. Giant bus sized holes gaped fervently on three walls, like the castle itself was crying out. Pieces of elegant stonework laid broken on the ground amid the tattered ruins of some of Roman’s finest tapestries. Dust lingered in the air.

“Are you all unharmed?” came Logan’s voice.

Virgil nodded, still in awe of the destruction that lay around them.

Roman looked devastated. “I’m fine, but look what those boorish orbs did to my precious palace! What were those things?” He walked over to one of the holes and put his hand on the edge of it. Almost as soon as his hand hit, he jerked it back with a hiss.

“They were thoughts,” Logan started, walking over to Roman with a small first aid kit in hand, “that appeared to have absorbed Patton’s essence.”

“… And?” Virgil asked.

Logan rubbed some burn ointment onto Roman’s hand and began to bandage it. “Those thoughts appear to have his power. If they were troublesome before, then that must mean—”

“They intend to wreak havoc here, too,” Roman interrupted.

Logan cleared his throat. “Yes. But I wonder … Could they bring him back?”

Virgil’s and Roman’s eyes went wide. “You really think those things out there are the key to reviving Patton? They’re monsters! Patton isn’t a monster!” Virgil bit.

“That wasn’t what I was implying. Those thoughts acted rashly when exposed to his essence because Patton was in a state of turmoil before he … Didn’t you notice that when you touched it, you began to feel things you didn’t normally feel?” said Logan.

“Well yeah, but aren’t people supposed to be sad when they lose someone they l … care about?” Virgil asked.

“Nice save,” said Roman.

“In people, yes, but we are not people. We are facets of a whole personality, hence we cannot take many intricacies from another side without some sort of medium, which brings me back to the point. If Patton’s stray thoughts have enough of his essence within them, then perhaps they are enough to resurrect him,” Logan explained.

“What other choice do we have?” asked Roman. “We can’t just let those rogue ruminations run rampant through the realm.”

“Then it’s settled. We must go after these manifestations with due haste,” Logan said. “Perhaps it would be better to each take on one of these creatures. If my calculations are correct, we don’t have long to get them back before they become inert. Although it would make my job easier if we didn’t have to worry about trivial emotions getting in the way … But I certainly don’t want to pick up the slack from Patton’s absence.”

“How can you even say that? Are you sure you’re not a dark side in disguise?” Virgil said, running his fingers through his hair with a heavy sigh. “Not the time, Virgil. Okay. How do you know we’re on a time limit? And how are we supposed to fight these thoughts?”

“Simple mathematics. It took nine minutes and thirty-seven seconds for the essence on my hands to stop affecting me in a way that hindered me. As for how to go about defeating them, I suspect Roman may be able to help,” said Logan.

“Oh sure, you didn’t want to help me earlier but now I have to help you. Pah!” Roman said, throwing his hands in the air. Instantly, both Logan and Virgil were donning jester’s costumes with squeaky swords at their sides while Roman was decked out in full chainmail armor.

Virgil gave an indignant look to Roman, who was snickering at his handiwork. “You can’t seriously expect us to go up against those with these,” he spat, motioning to his novelty weapon.

“Virgil is right. We wouldn’t be able to fight effectively with this,” Logan said. “We will also need a way to transport the creatures back, but I may have a solution for that.” He conjured up three small glass jars.

“Ugh, fine,” Roman groaned. He waved his hand and the two were changed into more fitting clothes: a rogue outfit and dagger for Virgil and for Logan, wizard’s robes and a magic staff. “Better?”

Virgil, who had been covertly admiring his garb, put one hand behind his head and said, “It’s alright I guess.”

“This is adequate. Now, we have exactly three hours, fifty-eight minutes, and twenty seconds to bring these thoughts back before his essence leaves them,” Logan said, waving his hand and conjuring a countdown timer for all of them.

“Then what are we waiting for?” asked Virgil.

Roman nodded. “Let’s get this pony rolling!”

“I’m sorry, there are ponies involved? That would be a much faster method of travel than walking,” Logan pointed out.

Roman almost countered that, but took a moment to think. “You’re right,” he said, conjuring some horses. “Now let’s go!”

With that, the sides mounted their horses with varying degrees of difficulty and set off in three separate directions.

---

Roman was usually so happy to be riding in the Imagination. Nothing beat the feeling of the wind through his hair, or the steady bouncing of the horse’s gait, or the rhythmic pounding of hooves on the ground.

But this time, he could find no joy atop his trusty mount. Not with his thoughts racing faster.

Instead, he kept his body poised like a jockey and let the horse do the work. She always knew where he needed to go. Thankfully, the path was a little easier to see since one of the loose Eldritch abominations carved its way through the lush evergreen forests. He still couldn’t believe any of this was real. Not even an hour ago, they had all been sitting around the Round Table, poised to discuss video ideas. Now, they were all on a life-or-continued-death quest to stop Patton’s thoughts from destroying everything in enough time to revive him. Even he thought that plotline was a bit contrived. Nevertheless, here he rode, off to accomplish the task at hand like the hero Patton believed him to be.

A flash of blue whizzed by in Roman’s periphery. He pulled the reins hard and wheeled his horse around. Another subtle movement shuffled in the undergrowth to his right. He dismounted as quietly as he could and drew his sword. The leaves rustled again. He slowly stalked toward them, ready to pounce. Suddenly, a blue toad jumped out from the foliage and onto Roman’s chest briefly before saying, “Tag, you’re it!” and hopping quickly away.

Roman blinked. “Well that’s new,” he mumbled to himself. He sheathed his sword and looked at the toad, still hopping away. It slowed, turned around, and stared for a moment before hopping back toward Roman.

“Aren’t you gonna chase me?” it asked from a distance. That voice sounded so familiar …

“I’m sorry, fair frog, but I can’t play with you. I’m on an urgent quest to find a rampaging beast. You haven’t happened to see one around here, have you?” said Roman.

The toad brought one little arm up to its chin in thought. “Hmm, I don’t think I’ve seen one around here …” Its eyes shone. “Oh, a quest! Can I come with you? It sounds so much more fun than playing tag with myself! Please please pleeeeeeeease!” it said, bouncing in place.

Roman, understandably, was a little put-off by this toad. “I don’t think that would be a good idea. You’re much too small to fight, and this may be the most difficult quest I will ever go on.” He made his way back to his horse. The toad followed.

“Please? I promise I won’t get in the way!” said the toad, clinging to Roman’s boot with tears in its eyes.

Roman sighed. “Fine, but you stay in the saddlebag,” he huffed.

The toad binkied happily in little circles. “Yay! We’re going on a quest! We’re going on a quest! I don’t know what we’ll do but hey, we’ll make up all the rest!” it sang. It leapt into Roman’s arms. “Onward to adventure!” It pointed an arm out in front of them.

“Yeah,” Roman said, stuffing the toad in his saddlebag with much protest. He pulled the countdown timer out of the bag on his belt. 03:01:42. Had he already been gone for this long? He stuffed it back in and hoisted himself onto the saddle.

Or rather, he would have if there weren’t a troublesome toad sitting there already. “Woooaah, is this what it’s like to be a horseback rider? How do I make it go?” it gleamed. It tried to whip the reins but could barely lift them without toppling over.

“Hold on a minute. You don’t make it go anywhere,” Roman said, lifting the toad off the saddle and putting it back in the saddlebag. “I do.” He tried to mount once more to find the toad sitting on top of the horse’s head. “What the …! How do you keep doing that?” He grabbed the frog again and put him back in the saddlebag, making sure to fasten it this time.

Yet again, the toad appeared before him, this time sitting on the horse’s neck. “Doing what?” it innocently asked. And yet again, Roman turned to stuff the toad back in, only to find three others already in there.

“What in the name of accumulating amphibians is going on here?!” Roman shouted. “Why are there four of you?!”

“Huh? Oh, there aren’t four of me!” As if to illustrate his point, hundreds of blue toads emerged from hiding all around them. “It would get pretty boring if I was playing tag with only four of me!” One of them hopped on top of Roman’s head.

“Alright, enough! Only one of you can come with me,” Roman said.

The toads just smiled. “Well why didn’t you say so?” All of them but the one on his head disappeared into mist, and the one that remained almost glowed. “Onward to adventure!” the toad cried again. Roman just put his head in his hands with a small groan.

The two were off and at a full gallop through the razed forest. About five seconds down the road, the toad said, “You wanna play I Spy? I do! I’ll go first! I spy with my little eye, something … red!”

“I really can’t play this right now, we need to be on the lookout for a rampaging monster,” Roman replied.

“Aww come on, this is an easy one, I know you can get it!”

“Not now.”

The toad huffed. “Well you’re no fun. What kind of adventure is this anyway?”

“Not the fun kind,” Roman said. “We’re running out of time.”

“Pssshhh, no we’re not. There’s always time for fun!” the toad exclaimed.

Roman grunted. “What part of urgent quest did you not understand? We only have so long to bring him back! Now please, make yourself useful and help me look for a rampaging beast.”

“Bring who back?” the toad asked. Roman stayed silent for a long while. “Didja hear me?”

“A very close friend of mine,” Roman finally replied.

“Oh,” said the toad. “So your friend is the monster?”

“No! Yes? I don’t know. It’s hard to explain,” Roman said, getting more agitated with each passing second.

The toad stayed silent for a good moment. “What’s your friend’s name? Maybe I heard of ‘em,” said the toad.

“Patton,” came Roman’s solemn reply.

“Hey, that kinda sounds like my name!” squealed the toad.

“Oh?” said Roman. The edge of the path quickly approached. “Wait, this is where the destruction ends, he should be right here!” He tugged on the reins and dismounted quickly. The toad hopped to the ground.

“Hey, I think I remember something about this place,” it said.

Roman turned and squatted in front of the toad. “Tell me.”

The toad hopped in place. “This is where I first started playing tag with myself! There were so many more of me then … Maybe some of them are still hiding! Will you help me look?” he asked.

Roman huffed. “I have to find whatever cantankerous creature came this far, so I don’t have time to be playing around!”

The toad recoiled. “Wh-why are you yelling at me?” he whined, huge tears welling up in his eyes. His color dimmed a bit.

Roman put a hand against his cheek, tugging at his bottom eyelid. Why did this have to be happening to him now of all times? “Look, I’m sorry, little, uh … what did you say your name was again?”

The toad sniffled and wiped at his cheek. “L-Lilypadton,” he replied.

“Okay, I’m sorry, Lilypadton, but I just don’t have the time to—” Roman paused. “Wait a moment. Lilypadton. Lily-padton. Lily-Patton.” His eyes lit up. “By the horn of a unicorn! I’m surprised I didn’t think of this before!” He picked the blubbering toad up. “You’re the one I’ve been looking for!”

“I-I am?” Lilypadton asked.

Roman nodded, his own eyes shimmering a little. “Indeed. I didn’t expect a rampaging thought could turn into such a … tiny creature as yourself. From the way you cut down all of these trees, I thought you’d have been a bit bigger. But uh, no matter! You’re going to help me bring my friend back!” He hugged Lilypadton tight to his armor.

“Mister, you’re choking me!” Lilypadton croaked.

Roman immediately loosened his grip. “Sorry, I got a little carried away for a moment there. Let’s get you back to my castle with haste!” He put Lilypadton on his shoulder and climbed back on his horse, and instantly the horse went into a full gallop. The poor Pat-toad hung on to Roman’s pauldron for dear life.

Around ten minutes down the road, once Lilypadton had settled on the saddle horn, he suddenly spoke. “Did … did I do all of this?”

Roman looked down at him. “Yes, but I don’t think you meant to,” he said, bringing his gaze back up to the road.

“I think I remember something else,” Lilypadton softly said.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. We were in here somewhere. I … was taller. Like you! I saw you, too. You were so brave fighting that big scary lion snake goat thingy! But then you got hurt, and it was all because of me wanting to save that poor bunny, and I didn’t ever want you to get hurt but you did and if I hadn’t been so trusting and just done what you said in the first place, you wouldn’t have gotten hurt and it wouldn’t have been my fault.” Lilypadton dimmed a little more. “B-but then you said, ‘I can’t believe you fell for that obvious trap, Patton. Didn’t you notice the footprints on the ground near it or the horrible stench coming from just behind the trees? It really surprises me, the way you can be so naive sometimes.’ And then, I felt my chest hurting real bad.”

Roman looked again at the little toad, wide-eyed and near frozen. He still had the little scar on his arm from the chimera’s attack, barely worth mentioning against the numerous others he had accumulated from other, more dangerous creatures. What startled him was hearing Patton’s perspective of this.

Lilypadton flopped against Roman’s breastplate. “I-I’m so sorry,” he whimpered.

Roman banished his chainmail and put a hand on Lilypadton’s back, pressing him gently into his chest. “You were holding onto that this whole time. And all because I made a stupid, offhand comment,” he said, hooking the reins around the saddle horn and holding his face in his newly freed hand. Fresh tears streaked over his gauntlets. Hadn’t there been enough crying for one day?

He continued. “Padre, please believe me when I tell you that I, in no way, hold that day against you. I shouldn’t have said what I said, because that’s not what I think of you at all. That day, I was so impressed that you wanted to help that slovenly little lapin, despite me telling you that you didn’t have to. And then you showed me how brave you were, still helping that creature while that chimera roared at you. I still remember you telling it, ‘Now you just wait your turn, mister, I’ll pet you in a minute!’ It was one of the greatest adventures I’d ever had with you.” He stroked the little toad. Lilypadton croaked softly against his chest. “Had I known that my careless comment was something that led to you being in this state, I would have washed my own mouth out with soap. I should be the one apologizing to you, Patton.”

Lilypadton smiled, eyes still brimming with tears. “Thank you, Roman,” he said, burrowing closer like a small child being held. Roman just smiled and rubbed Lilypadton’s little back, content to have not only found this toad in the first place, but a piece of Patton that he never knew before. Roman’s palace loomed in the distance. It wouldn’t be long before the two reached the remains of Patton prime.

Roman felt Lilypadton slowly transform in his hand, now nothing but a bright blue thought.

---

Logan, though not as well versed in the equine arts as Roman, found himself to be a natural when behind the reins of a beautiful, sure-footed Paso Fino. What wasn’t natural, however, was trying to do that while wearing a star-spangled bathrobe. Eventually, he’d had to stop his horse, conjure a hair tie, and bunch the loose fabric between his legs like a bike-riding lady in the 1890’s. ��How asinine,” he mumbled to himself as he followed the river south.

If his calculations were correct, then he had approximately three hours and twenty-two minutes to find this troublesome thought and bring it back. In the distance, he could see storm clouds brewing over one particular location three klicks ahead of him. So, about another half hour before he would be there. Great.

Part of Logan felt heavy. The other half felt like nothing at all. All he knew was that the essence crusting on his hands had something to do with how he was experiencing these feelings. Much to his chagrin, Logan did, in fact, have feelings. Just never to the extremes that Patton did. And before, standing over Patton’s bleeding form and covered in essence, those emotions were nearly enough to knock him off of his feet. He had frozen. The one minute he needed to be the dependable one, he had frozen. He had no idea what to do to save him, and he’d shattered right in front of them. And now, he could only hope that his working theory was correct.

Logan gripped the reins tighter, whipping them with a sharp, “Hyah!” The horse promptly obeyed and quickened its pace. He was getting close to the epicenter of the clouds. A small streak of blue quickly differentiated itself from the surrounding landscape. Could that be …

Within seconds, Logan had arrived as close to the entity as he felt comfortable and hid among the tall grasses. It had a vaguely humanoid shape with two large, white eyes, blurring through the breeze as if it were immaterial. He heard its singsong voice gently wafting over, sweet and soft against the stark, grassy landscape. Birds and other small animals gathered around it in Disney Princess fashion. Its voice rose and with it, the wind did, too. Dried leaves and loose grass circled around them.

“An elemental …” Logan whispered. The wind died. The elemental whipped its head around to look directly at Logan. His heart hammered in his chest.

“WHO’S THERE?” it boomed. Logan nestled deeper into the grasses. “HMM, PEACH, PEAR—”

“Pineapple,” Logan inadvertently replied. He slapped a hand over his mouth. Suddenly, the wind was beneath him, hoisting him swiftly over to where the elemental hovered. Logan fumbled with the strap keeping his magic staff secured but couldn’t free it before he came to sit in front of this creature.

“I THOUght I heard someone over there. Oh, I’m sorry if I scared you, kiddo, I’m not going to hurt you! Here, let me help you up,” it said. It extended what Logan thought to be an arm toward him. Logan gingerly put his hand out, expecting to pass right through, but the elemental felt solid beneath his touch. “Do you have a name I can call you?”

“Um … Logan,” he responded.

“Logan … what a nice name. I think I used to know someone with that name. Maybe one of my kiddos?”

Logan tapped his chin. “You don’t sound like any elemental I’ve ever encountered before.”

“Elemental? Oh, no, not me. I’m just Sympathos,” Sympathos said.

All of the sudden, it hit Logan. “No wonder you sound so familiar. I believe I know who you are. Please come with me.”

“What’s that, on your hands …?” Sympathos asked warily. The wind picked up a little bit.

“It’s essence. Your essence, Patton,” Logan stated matter-of-factly. “Please, time is against us. We must return to Roman’s castle before it’s too late.”

Sympathos backed away. “M-my essence? And who’s Patton? I think I’d better stay here.” A particularly cold gust of wind whipped by them.

“You’re Patton. Or, a part of him, rather; one that’s doomed to fade in less than three hours unless you rejoin with your other pieces. Wouldn’t it be better to become whole again?”

Sympathos shrunk. “No, no, I … I don’t think I want to go with you,” he said. “I don’t know who you think I am, but I’m not him. I … I can’t be him!” The wind picked up a bit more.

Logan had to hold onto his hat to keep it from sailing away. “Please calm down,” he said, slowly striding toward Sympathos with his hands up. Sympathos only backed away further. “You’re being irrational.”

The wind died once more, leaving only a deathly quiet over them. Sympathos brought his hands to his face. “No. I’m. NOT!” he shouted, rising up in a tornado’s winds and growing just as big. Hail began falling thunderously around Logan. He shielded himself as best he could with his arm, attempting to once again release his staff from its prison on his back. He finally got it and quickly cast a shielding spell around himself. Sympathos continued. “WHY IS IT IRRATIONAL TO NOT WANT TO GO WITH SOMEONE WHO HAS A PART OF ME SMEARED ALL OVER THEIR HANDS? WHY CAN I NOT BE AFRAID OF SOMEONE WHO HURT ME?”

Logan could only look up at the angry funnel cloud version of his friend. “Hurt you?” he yelled through the noise. “This essence on my hands was from trying to save you! Do you not remember?”

The winds roared. “THAT’S NOT WHAT I MEANT. THAT’S NOt what I meant,” Sympathos said, dying down into little more than a breeze. The hail turned into tiny raindrops, slowly getting bigger as he wept.

Logan dismissed most of the shielding spell, leaving only a portion above his head. He slowly walked over toward where Sympathos was crumpled on the ground. Every raindrop sent little bits of him rippling across his surface as if he, too, were made of water. “Then, would you tell me what has you so disconcerted?” Logan gently asked. He sat down beside the entity, expanding the shield to cover Sympathos from the cloudburst.

Sympathos said nothing for a while, but Logan was more than keen to wait. He still had enough time to get him back, and he didn’t want to have to hurt the thought any more than he somehow already had. Finally, Sympathos spoke, “I’m not Patton. I know I’m not. But, I have his memories. His thoughts. His pain. I saw you in almost all of the memories. Especially the ones where you would tell me, ‘Your feelings are clouding your judgement,’ or something like that. Then I would feel this … this awful pain in my core.” He looked up at Logan. “How can I still have the pain that he had but have no way to know how to deal with it? How can I trust you when all I have are these aching memories?” The rain worsened as Sympathos sobbed.

Logan didn’t quite know what to do. Had he hurt Patton without ever knowing it? Or had he been too blinded by his own emotions to notice? He thought back to a few months ago, when Patton had first revealed his injuries. They were so profound then, like they had been less than an hour ago at the Round Table. Wait, right after he told Patton to let the past go, those injuries worsened. How many other times had his input splintered across Patton’s chest? He had to make this right. He put one gentle hand on Sympathos’s back.

“I … don’t think it would be reasonable, not after having experienced such pain by my own hand,” Logan carefully said. “I never intended to harm you, but whether I meant it or not is inconsequential to the truth of it. I still hurt you. And for that, I am truly, deeply sorry. I just wish I’d have known about your condition sooner so I could have made amends sooner. Maybe we wouldn’t be in this mess if only I’d noticed sooner …” He felt a tear of his own threatening to leak out.

Sympathos looked up at him. Bittersweet laughter emanated from him, piercing through the rain in matching melancholy. “How could you have known what I never said?” He sat up as much as a spectral entity could and leaned against Logan. “I forgive you. Maybe it’s time I started trusting you all more.”

Logan smiled a bit and the tears silently rolled. “I’d like that,” he said softly. Logan wasn’t used to dealing with emotions; that much went without saying. But maybe it was time to try, if for nothing— or no one— else but Patton.

After another moment, the weight against his side faded and only a floating blue orb remained. Wiping his eyes with his sleeve, he retrieved the jar from where it hung on his belt and gently guided the thought in. Here, at least, he would be safe until it was time to reunite with the other pieces.

As Logan remounted his horse, he noticed the rain had stopped and in its wake, a tiny rainbow appeared.

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Virgil swore to himself that after today, he would never, EVER, get back on a horse.

It was too hard to get on the stupid thing for one. For another, there were no visible controls. He had no idea how this beast even knew what to do, and what it did was try to take off with Virgil hanging off its side. Probably Roman’s idea of a joke. Again. Now, the ride was hurting his butt. He failed to see how his day could get any worse— a hard-earned feat from a side such as himself.

Now here he was, holding onto this animal for dear life as it clattered up the mountain paths, thinking of all the ways this would fail, all the ways he could plummet to his own death, and they’d have to come up with some horribly saccharine double funeral for him and Patton, or maybe they would just completely forget about him or disown him because he failed—

Without warning, the horse reared, sending Virgil flying into some nearby brush. The horse ran off, evident only by the disappearing sound of hoofbeats. For a while, Virgil just laid there, staring up at the canopy above him. Stupid horse. I didn’t want to ride you anyway, he wanted to say. “Today really isn’t my day,” is what came out. He slowly started getting up, hands hurting from where he pushed into the ragged undergrowth. At least everything matched now.

He looked at the path ahead. A huge earthen wall blocked most of the path. “What the— when did that get there?” Virgil said. He eyed it warily. It seemed stable enough … Maybe he could climb over to the other side? He touched it with his dagger. The blade pierced through easily, yet the wall still held. Still, there was no way he was going to scale this monstrosity, not without at least twenty different safety lines and a helmet. And anyway, it wasn’t like he couldn’t just walk around it. So he did.

And immediately regretted it.

A gargantuan, blue-furred bear loped on the other side, coming to stand on its hind legs. That thing had to be at least twelve feet tall! A small, “eek!” escaped Virgil’s lips as he moved to hide back behind the wall. Maybe the bear hadn’t seen him. All at once, the wall crumbled into dust, leaving Virgil facing away from a fearsome predator. He slowly turned his head to see the bear looking straight at him. With wide eyes, he slowly turned back and bolted back down the mountain.

Virgil checked behind him. Of course the bear was galloping after him. “Crap crap crap crap!” he wheezed, willing his legs to go faster. The bear was gaining on him. Think, Virgil, think! What would Roman do? I can’t believe I just asked myself that. Uh, trees! Bears can’t climb trees, right?

Virgil leapt onto the nearest tree and scrambled up the trunk as best he could. Which is to say, not very well. Still, it was enough to confuse the bear, which bought him a little extra time to climb. The bear stood on its hind legs and started climbing after him. “Oh, come on!” Virgil cried, inching out onto a sturdy looking branch.

The bear, barely needing to get off the ground to reach Virgil, grabbed his hood in its mouth and tugged. Virgil clung tighter to the branch. The bear kept tugging and Virgil could hear wood splintering. “Oh God oh God oh God this is it. This is how I go.” The branch broke with a sharp crack, leaving him dangling from the bear’s mouth. He released the branch and felt around his belt for his dagger. Anxious fingers slipped over the scabbard. Eventually, he freed it and started swinging wildly until the blade found purchase.

He opened his eyes and surveyed his damage. The dagger caught on the bear’s thick pelt as if it were a stick. The bear whined a little but was otherwise unharmed. It nudged the blade away from where it struck, stood on two legs, and released Virgil’s hood.

Virgil fully expected to hit the hard ground. He had seen it coming. But he didn’t even make it down past the bear’s legs. The bear was … holding him. Like a baby. And nuzzling him with a big, wet nose, making contented vocalizations. Was it … loving on him?

No fall. No get hurt.

Virgil’s eyes widened. “Y-you’re telepathic?”

The bear licked his cheek gently and looked into his eyes. I talk you only way I know. I keep you safe. The bear started walking back up the mountain, still carrying Virgil in his arms.

“What are you?” Virgil asked.

Pattington, came the bear’s reply.

“Where are you taking me?” asked Virgil.

Burrow. I keep you safe. I love like own cub.

All too soon, the two were in a clearing off the side of the path. At least, it used to be a clearing. There had to be hundreds of birdhouses in the trees and little bunny burrows dotting the cliffs. Deer, squirrels, and rabbits scampered freely in the clearing without worrying that the bear— Pattington— would hurt them. He lowered Virgil gently to the ground.

You play other cubs. I get dinner, said Pattington with one last nuzzle against Virgil. He sank back onto four paws and roamed toward the edge of the clearing.

Virgil was so struck by this odd behavior that he almost let him go. “Wait!” he called, running after him. Pattington looked back. “Um, I can’t stay. I’m kind of looking for something. Or uh, someone. It’s a little hard to tell.”

The bear stopped. Cub stay. Cub safe here. He put a gentle paw against Virgil’s chest and disappeared into the forest.

Virgil stood there for a moment. Was this bear trying to adopt him? He did not have time for this, not with a giant raging orb to be found! Frantically, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the timer Logan gave him. 3:10:48. There was still the greater part of three hours, but that meant nothing. If Virgil let himself go along with what this bear wanted, then Patton would never be able to come back. Now seemed like as good a time as any to get the heck away from here.

Virgil clambered through the small bit of forest between him and the path. He started walking up through where the orb had clearly razed. It didn’t take long to find its destination. A giant indentation in the mountain gave its secrets away. That much, at least, Virgil expected. What he didn’t expect was to find a slightly smaller bear shaped depression nested in the larger one. On the ground beneath them lay huge paw prints that faded as they got closer to the burrow.

Wait. That bear. He had blue fur. And was very snuggly. And very overprotective. And had a pun-filled name.

“Patton?”

As if summoned by hearing his true name, Pattington appeared behind Virgil. Cub, why wander from burrow?

Virgil could hardly believe it. Patton was here the whole time! “Pat … I was looking for you,” Virgil said, happy tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.

Why cub cry? Pattington not go far, Pattington said, approaching Virgil. Virgil closed the gap between them and clung to Patton’s neck, sobbing into his soft fur.

“I was so scared … I thought I’d never find you after y-you died in my arms … But now I can bring you back!” Virgil cried.

Me no go. You stay. Let me love you forever. The bear sat back and hugged Virgil to his chest.

Virgil pushed back a little, just enough to look into Pattington’s eyes. “But all of that can happen when you’re you again! There’s no reason why it can’t! Please, you have to come with me!”

Virgil not like my affection in Patton-form. Pattington different, Pattington keened mournfully.

Very few things caught Virgil off guard, but boy, if this didn’t completely knock him to the ground. “What are you talking about?” asked Virgil a little frantically.

Pattington put his forehead against Virgil’s. Frenzied images flashed before his eyes.

He saw himself through Patton’s eyes. They both were in their old clothes. They had just finished watching a movie or something and sat talking in Virgil’s room. It was getting close to the end of their visit. Patton went in for a hug and Virgil backed off. “Woah, what are you doing?” past Virgil asked.

“Oh, I um, I thought that since we’ve been getting so close …” Patton’s voice trailing off. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable!”

“No no, it’s fine, just uh … warn me first,” past Virgil replied. He opened his arms a little, and Patton took that opening. And goodness, Virgil could feel his satisfaction.

The images shifted into a later instance. Patton was having a rough day. Despite it, he still made time to go to Virgil’s room for their weekly get-together. Roman and Logan had apparently been arguing or snooping or something; that part Virgil couldn’t tell. The two munched on warm cookies and milk while some Disney movie played on Virgil’s TV. Patton leaned against Virgil as the movie played. Virgil just sat there. All of the sudden, Virgil began shuddering against Patton. He looked to Virgil, who appeared to be hyperventilating.

Patton sat back up. “Virgil?” he asked. “Are you okay?”

Virgil looked at him and started calming down. “Y-yeah, I’m fine,” he shakily replied. “Kinda glad to be able to move again. This might be too much stimulation for one night.”

“Oh,” he softly said. And goodness, Virgil could feel the pain in Patton’s chest.

Virgil was snapped back to the mountainous forest, those memories still searing in his skull. Pattington softly whined in front of him. Pattington too much. Too much for Virgil to bear.

So that’s what it was. “Pat, I … you’ve got it all wrong,” Virgil started. “Sure, you can be very … touchy. Sometimes a little too much for me to understand. But you have to understand that I don’t think you’re too much. A Patton hug is one of the best things to have right after a panic attack or when I’m down! Those casual little touches help to ground me. It just startled me when you went for it right away that first time. And that panic attack that you saw … I wasn’t overstimulated because of you.

“We were watching Cinderella that night. It got me thinking that maybe we had missed our chance to fix things with our ex, and we would never find love again. If anything, your presence there helped me get my thoughts back under control.” Virgil held Pattington’s paw in his hands. “So please … Please come back with me. I … I want Patton back. I need Patton back.”

Pattington’s eyes shone with fresh tears. With one last nuzzle, Pattington said, Thank you. I love you, Virgil, and morphed back into a tiny blue sphere. Virgil got the jar from his belt, very gently enclosing the thought within it.

“I love you too, Dad.”

Taglist: @celeste-tyrrell @taxicabinmemphis @angeldiaries @somehow-i-got-an-account @kawaiikat54 @rainy-days-and-the-fae

#atlas writes #patton angst #sanders sides angst #patton sanders #shatter me #um #okay so patton doesn't actually like #formally appear in this chapter #but uh yeah #finally we start to see the other sides reactions to their parts in this #hehehehe #shatter me story

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millennial-star-gazer · 4 years

Text

Tantric Flames: Chapter: 9

Tantric Flames

Nalu lovefest 2019 Prompts: Magic, Worship, Reckless , Forbidden and Cravings (All Implied)

Genres: Romance, Humor, New Adult Fanfiction

Pairing:Nalu (Natsu x Lucy)

Rating: M for language, steamy and mature adult sexual content (all consensual) in these and future chapters. Reader Direction is advised.(You've been warned!)

Summary: One look, one smouldering hooded gaze, one word, one fiery kiss, one magnetizing touch was all he needed for her to completely unravel at his mercy alone, succumbing to the sinful temptation of her inhibitions, his love, his feral passion, his raw, insatiable desires, his "Tantric Flames". Originally an Submission for Nalulovefest 2017 (on previous accounts) in which Natsu gives his mate a tantric massage-after much persuasion- she won't soon forget when it turns into so much more. Also previously featured in Nalu lovefest 2018 (on current accounts) , as well as Nalu Week 2017, Nalu Fluff Week and Nalu lovefest 2017 (as stated) with first three chapters on my previous celestialgeekmage accounts . Chapter 7 was also an entry for nalu week 2019 and Chapter 8 for Nalu Lovefest 2019. ( Nalu-centric) (Slight Au).

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Chapter 9: Tempted by A Tantric Touch

A/N: Hey guys, it's your girl Millennial StarGazer! This time I'm returning with another long-awaited installment of Tantric Flames. Once again, a major thanks to and koodos to @bmarvels, @mannyegb, @animezing-fandoms/princess-starry-night, and @allie-and-her-fandoms for helping me edit and further develop this chapter! Now without further ado, here's the story-enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Fairytail which belongs to the one and only Hiro-sensei instead!

(Note: Scroll down pas the keep reading button/ cut for the designated links, legend and actual chapter. The tagging feature and keep reading button might not show up or fully work on the desktop site but should function just fine on the app and mobile version.

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1. Tantric Flames

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Legend:

Italic: Song Lyrics/Quotes (or flashback dialogue)

Bold: First Person Thoughts

Bolded Italics: Empathized Word(s)

Bolded Italics (Within and Outside Bracket) including for author's side notes also known as (A/N:) within brackets (though none for side-notes in this chapter ).

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"You run your fingers over every part of my body and tease me with your touch".

(Source Unknown)

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Oh God, those love bites. So many love bites that decorated the blonde's creamy skin like jewels; far too numerous to count that always sent a red-hot line fire rippling through her nerves with with every nip, every suck; each every and stroke of Natsu's velvet tongue. Plus, he's usually doing other things at the same time. Racy images of the couple's steamy moments together from the last soak flooded Lucy's mind.

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Flashback

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The celestial mage's back arching of its own accord into Natsu's touch from robust hands cupping her breast; Blazing digits kneading the twin peaks in time with lips sucking along Lucy's pulse with so much skill that she couldn't help the heady moan that escaped her throat.

"Ya feel that, Luce?" Nastu growled in his princess's ear, the dark undercurrent of his territorial voice pulling a tingly shiver from her. "My marks all over that perfect body of yours— and not just the permanent one when you swore your heart to me . All of those are symbols of my essence, my claim, my love. That you belong to me and me alone. My mate and queen, forever and always. And those sounds you're makin'? Hot as hell."

Pretty sure, dude leaves marks on me as his way of announcing to the world I'm off limits as his mate. Explains why he's always quick to leave a fresh one in its place even after I cover them— not that I'm complaining. Plus, it's not only for his benefit but mine. It's great that he knows how much I love receiving hickeys and gets off from it.

Seriously, what more could I ask for?

Not to mention how lovely it always was to unwind with Natsu after each bath. The wizard was often keen in his offer to dry the blonde's damp hair with a towel or fire-magic-powered steam; from her perch on his lap or between his legs.

Much more relaxing than using a hair dryer if you ask me.

The dragonslayer would sometimes even hum or sing a familiar tune from days past in that appealing, gravelly baritone of his; would usually lull the already-zen mage into the world of dreams when combined with the sooth dual sensation of fingers combing through her hair, .

"I tell you, I tell you, the dragonborn comes ..."

Anyother guild member who might be eavesdropping, however, would often be quick to lightheartedly goad the blonde mage ( much to her chargin). Natsu no doubt would find this hilarious of course; which would serve for Lucy's cheeks to flush an even deeper shade of crimson than she already was.

"Say Luce, is that a blush I see?" he once crooned, a teasing edge to his words; though the affectionate mirth sparkling in his eyes warmed her heart just a little. "Aw, is my girl a little embarrassed? That's okay though— makes ya all the more adorable and endearing than you already are. You want me to make it all better? Cuz I can! Got plenty of kisses! Come on, you know you want some which I'm more than happy to give. God I love ya' so much, you know that?"

It's amazing really... Lucy ruminated in fond awe. How Natsu can switch between the different roles and sides to him with relative ease. From Romantic and tender to dominant, playful and affectionate; then back again on top of everything else all seemingly at the drop of a hat. All an innate part of his overall nature I guess— essentially what makes up who he is. Some people may find this a bit confusing to keep up with— but I don't. Just makes him all the more complex.

Though those people would also be right when they say that the dude still has a devious streak, she couldn't help but add with wry smirk. Even with me, though never with malicious intent. German suplex, non-stop tickling, dumping me in a tub of freezing cold water during one of our baths— too many pranks to count really. At least he's always quick to follow up with plenty of affection ever since we became an item— can't complain about that."

"You ready to get started Lucy?" Natsu's keen voice broke through Lucy's reverie.

"You know it!" The celestial mage chirped, unable to mask the pure enthusiasm in her voice; earning an amused chuckle from the dragon wizard . "Can't wait. I take it you'll be hoarding me for the rest of the afternoon?"

"Mhmm" Came his content hum in response." That really a bad thing, though?"

"No, definitely not."

"I figured. Why don't we get you up on that massage bed?"

"Sure thing!"

A buzz of anticipation was practically thrumming in Lucy's blood from such tantalizing implications of his words; the stunt Natsu pulled next , though— that was what really shot a thrilling jolt up her spine.

"Let's finish what we started later, yeah?"

The dragonslayer's proposal was punctuated by a light tap on the summoner's ass for good measure,; which resulted in a delighted squeal.

"O-okay!" was said female's response in the form of a breathy giggle.

"Let me get you that towel while I'm at it."

"Sure— thanks."

"My pleasure."

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A Few Minutes Later

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"Ugh...do me a huge favor and burn this towel. Will ya?"

Lucy couldn't help but let out an audible groan along with the heat rising in her cheeks. Good god was the particularly moist spot on the white towel a truly mortifying sight to behold. Basically tell-tale remnants of liquid arousal that had been wiped clean from her legs just moments before.

Mavis only knows what would happen if Levy or Cana noticed during laundry duty.

" Okay... why though?" Natsu questioned, brows drawing together in mild confusion. "As in why do you want me to?"

"Guild Laundry day" came Lucy's automatic reply."That's why."

"Not following ya.' Natsu blinked owlishly in uncomprehension.

"Levy…..and Cana….." Lucy supplied, a finger twirling an errant strand of blonde hair in :a self-conscious display." "I... uh.."

"Still don't know what you mean here, Luce."

"It's their turn to do laundry duty." She attempted to break down what was apparently such an abstract concept into simpler terms; not able to help the aggravation rising in the back of her mind.

"Yeah? So?"

"They'll probably see the moist stain on the towel." Lucy clarified, forcing her voice to remain level.

"I see— don't see the problem though."

"Think about who'll most likely be with them ."

"Gajeel and Laxus but…...ahh—"

Realization dawned on Natsu's face. "I get it now. What you're saying is that they'll probably catch a whiff of your arousal? "

"Well, the lingering remnants of the scent anyway. Seriously though?" he tacked on, lifting a questioning brow."That's what you're worried about?"

"Yeah... I am," Lucy admitted, nerves leaking into her voice. "Aren't you?"

"Not really, no." Natsu gave a shrug of his shoulders—seemingly unfazed.

"Why's that?" Lucy couldn't help but shoot him a puzzled glance.

"Cuz it'll show everyone how much I rocked your world." Natsu replied, flashing his mate a cheeky grin. " And what's not to love about that?"

"Pervert — of course you'd say that!" Lucy screeched, skin flushing a deep shade of crimson.

"That's me!"

"Ugh, still don't know what to do about the moist spot— those four are never gonna let me live it down."

"You know if you're that worried, I could always use my tongue to clean ya up instead." Natsu drawled with a lazy smirk that set her heart all pit-patter .

"And of course, you'd suggest that," Lucy quipped with a slight roll of her eyes. "Did I mention how much of a horn dragon you are? "

"Yeah, but only for a certain gorgeous blonde of mine and she loves it."

"Oh, she does, huh?" Lucy raised a challenging brow.

"Yep. Don't bother trying to deny it, Luce".

"Ugh fine... you're right. I do. Seriously, you and your colossal ego though."

"Why, thank you! If you're impressed by that, you'd really should see my co—"

The rest of Natsu's words were cut off by Lucy's hand swatting him with a pillow which was met with a snicker.

"Pervert" Lucy deadpanned with another eye roll. "By way, you would've found yourself in the proverbial dog house if you actually meant the other kind of 'fighting earlier."

Only for Natsu's face to instantly fall in response to her statement.

"What?" Natsu objected, gaping at her with wide eyes. " And deprive me of the chance to wake up to your beautiful face each morning for that long?!"

"Yep." Lucy gave a nod by way of reply.

"But why? You know that's not the type of fightin' I met!"

"Well yeah, I know that now. But not earlier when you originally brought up. Just be glad that you didn't bail on our date earlier."

"I didn't though! And never would— honest Luce!" Natsu's voice lifted into a petulant whine.

"Hmm.. Okay, good to know. " Lucy responded, raising her hands to placate him. "Though you'll have to be without me for a few days anyway.

"Wait, seriously?" Natsu faltered , bewildered panic flashing in his eyes. . "Come on! What is it this time?"

"Camping retreat in the woods next week that Cana, Mira, Lisanna, and Erza are organizing— ladies only."

"W-ha?" Natsu continued to sputter, his poor brain no doubt short circuiting by now." But Elfman said that it was open to anyone who's free to go!"

"Really? Lucy mused in thoughtful interest. "That's not what I heard... huh."

"What am I supposed to do without you?"

"How about something fun with the guys? Should be nice, right?"

"Yeah, but so is spending time with you Lucy! It's always more fun when we're together like you said."

"And I don't disagree. Doesn't change anything though. The trip's still happening."

"Didn't say it wasn't but it'd still suck here without you! Natsu moaned, that desperate sense of longing bleeding into his voice. " I'd miss ya' too much! So would our little buddy! Can't we tag along? Maybe Even share an air mattress in a decent-sized tent? I'd gladly help set up and keep you cozy in my arms at night."

"What about Happy?" Lucy questioned, intrigued by his suggestion. His offer does sound really tempting.

"Obviously he'd share the tent with us but would have his own sleeping bag and could hang with Wendy and Carla whenever we wanted alone time. Plus there are all these cool spots I could take you to on nature hikes!."

"Sounds great."

"Course it is! So whaddya say? You onboard?" Natsu wheedled, flashing her what could only be described as the most flawless puppy eyes she'd ever seen.

"Aw that's really tempting and" Lucy gushed, heart contracting at the adorable pout he was throwing in too. Normally I'd say yes"— but it'll have to wait. Thank you though! I'd love to take you up on that offer another day."

"Oh come on— please I wanna go!" Natsu huffed,stamping his foot as if he were a child pitching a fit over being denied a coveted toy- quite an amusing display to say the least.

"Not this time I'm afraid. Sorry, them's the brakes."

"Lucyyyyyyyyy!" Natsu whined again, dragging the syllables of her name with such melodrama that she finally decided to let him off the hook

" Jeez.. enough with the dramatics already. " Lucy yielded with an exasperated groan, You can still come— the trip is for everyone. I was only kidding after all."

Said confession was met with a noise of stunned dimsay from from the pyro.

"Wait... so ya' mean to tell me that this was a joke?! he muttered, voice coming out with a small pinch of disbelief. "You were pulling my leg the entire time?"

"Yep— consider it payback for me making think you were gonna ditch earlier."

"That's why? That's not nice, Luce— not very nice at all." Natsu grumbled, though not with any real heat.

"Oh yeah, what are you gonna do about it?" Lucy baited, a daring lilt to her words.

" Oh —- wouldn't you like to know?" Natsu rumbled, eyes sparking in a such a calculating way that it sent a electrifying chill down Lucy's spine.

"I would— ngh! Nastuuuu!"

The rest of what Lucy was attempting to say Lucy's words were cut off by the lighting- fast sweep of Natsu's velvet tongue up her thighs . Not to mention that electric high-voltage jolt of ecstasy flooding her veins.

"There! that should show ya!" Natsu let out a cackle of glee. " Not to ever play dirty tricks on a dragon I mean. Guess you're not gonna need that towel after all, huh Lucy?"

"My God..."

"Yeah, I know . Just that amazing with my tongue, I guess. Natsu purred, voice laced with am indecorous promise "Plus, hearing ya' scream my name like that just gave me another hard-on that I'd love for you to see .. "

"Jeez … of course it'd would . and no real shocker that you would say something like that."

"Yep- you know me so well, Luce. and it's not like you're complain' anyway. Want me to prove it?"

" Maybe.. But God- you're such a pompous ass, you know that?"

"Yeah but all part of my charm, sweetheart."

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A/N: And that's Chapter 9 folks! My apologies for the delay by the way! I originally wanted to post this much sooner but got hit with writer's block after getting a somewhat stumped on a particular segment of this chapter. I've also been with my other ongoing fanfics, WIPs and responsibilities among other things in my life . That all aside, at least this chapter was finally posted! Now please feel free to do me a solid and let me know what you think by leaving a comment/ review! Stay tuned for Chapter 10 too! Oh and please feel free to check out the rest of my writing which can be found above, on my profiles and in master post if reading this on tumblr. All right, that's pretty much all I have to say for now! Thanks to all my mutuals/friends, readers and followers for their continuous support over the years! (Corresponding links for the master of my writing and profiles can be found above, in the navigation bar of the desktop and bio if reading this on tumblr.) Until next time-take care!

#fairytail #ft fanfics #nalu #endlu #natsu x lucy #e.n.d natsu x lucy #tantric flames #my writing #millennial star gazer writes #millennial stargazer #please reblog

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