#or the little hidden brush on a forest trail you can rest in but still safely be on track

[highlordofkrypton]

And for the second prompt of Day 3 of @tamlinweek: Flower Language.

Content warning: Grief, war, allusions to torture, graves/graveyards, depression and PTSD.

Read Potentillas on AO3 or beneath the cut:

Where are you?

Days, months, years have passed, and he still cannot find him. Through the thicket and into the brush, Tamlin speaks to the whispering moss and the little creatures hidden within. The smallest things carry the greatest knowledge, often unseen and unheard, but Tamlin listens.

He’s always listened.

They tell him of the eagle and the bobcat, and of the new silver lace vines that have taken root in the North. He follows the trail they lead towards all the changes of his father’s Court. Maybe today, he’ll find what he’s looking for.

White flowers on shining pale gray stems greet him, honoured to be noticed by Spring’s prince. They bloom, showing their very best side. He asks their name, and though he is kind and caring, his heart shutters with disappointment. Not here.

The forest is his home; the war has made him restless and he rejects stillness. When the body does not move, the mind begins to race, and his mind lives among the dead.

He knows every inch of this place, from the growth of the trees, to the war of the weeds. He wakes his great-grandmother from her willow, and asks if she has seen anyone new, too. The souls always come home, so why isn’t he here? He loved the forests just as much as Tamlin did. He taught Tamlin to look, to listen and to respect. The Green should have welcomed him by now.

It has been days, months and years since Tamlin failed to bring Iolin’s body home, and he will not rest until he’s found his spirit.

***

The Middle is a barren place, ravaged by war. The soil is dead, poisoned by the iron of blood and the toxicity of faebane. Few things grow here, but they do not bloom—they claw their way out of the ground, all sharp edges and dark stems. Their leaves are shades of black, gray and rotted brown.

It has been a long time since Tamlin dared to venture here, and he does so against his better judgement. Shame isolates him, making him too afraid to reach out for help in this desperate endeavour. What will his friends say when the realize his crime?

I let my brother die.

That’s it.

Tamlin knows it, his family knows it and it’s only a matter of time before everyone else knows it, too. Cold seeps into his bones, a needling sensation that only ever takes place here. He pulls his cloak closer to himself and begins the trek.

Bones litter across the ground, half-devoured by vicious plants who thrive not on sun, not on song, but on the hard calcium of the dead. His mind shutters, withering under the weight of memories. This graveyard is of his making.

But Tamlin does not sop. He never learned how to. He only ploughs forward.

Further, and further, until he reaches the western shore close to where the King had stationed his temporary palace. The air grows thick, and Tamlin has to stop.

I can’t—

I can’t do this.

He promised he would bring Iolin home; he failed the first time, and he will let this attempt kill him before he fails again. Tamlin forces himself back to his feet, and keeps walking. He remembers exactly where he collapsed, where Iolin’s body had slipped from his arms and rolled down an incline, breaking him even more than he was already broken. He was already dead by then, succumbing to Amarantha’s wrath.

He was already free by then, leaving Tamlin in this interminable hell.

The gnawing in his chest is too much; he clutches it, as if he can reach his heart and throttle it in hopes of making it work again. It keeps failing, just like his lungs that can’t ever find enough air.

Please, please, please, I don’t want to be here.

Out of the corner of his eye, a glimmer of bright yellow sings softly to him. He knows that voice, and its gentle cadence. Iolin had always been kind, even when he was hiding from his father’s harsh gaze beneath the mask of duty. Iolin had always been the one to find Tamlin when he was running from something. He was courage itself.

Tamlin picks himself out of the dirt, walking with heavy steps towards the only bloom in the heart of this hellscape.

“Potentillas,” he whispers, touching the five petals lightly. “Of course.” His voice falters, and the breath that escapes him is shaky. He sits beside his brother’s resting place, and lets the relief wash over him. Iolin had always been his safe haven.

“The flowers of resilience. Crush the petals and steep it in tea, and you’ll find strength for another day,” he recites his brother’s words back to him. “I miss you, I miss you so damn much.”

[yumejo]

I wanted to draw Natsurei fantasy AU but I couldn't pick which trope to choose(⁠￣⁠ヘ⁠￣⁠;;⁠)

—(Master & Familiar trope) Reine is a bunny hybrid saved by Natsume and is indebted to him

—Witch!Natsume who summons demon!Reine and tries to form a pact with them (Natsume jokes that a kiss can seal the contract. Reine lowkey believes it)

—Natsume accidentally(or intentionally) turned himself to a cat and needed a kiss from a princess to revert back into a human (I choose a cat since it really fits him^^)

i also couldn't pick which trope so i wrote something for each LMAO (i did hcs and little snippets for each so it's a bit lengthy..!!)

(Master & Familiar trope) Reine is a bunny hybrid saved by Natsume and is indebted to him

↠ It's a regular occurrence for Natsume to be out gathering herbs and other vegetations within the confines the forest to be used as ingredients for his potions, but from the moment he stepped out from his cottage, he knew today was going to be different. ↠ And he was right, as he heard labored and faint panting nearby—and as he searched, he pried back copious vines enshrouding a cavity in the tree trunk⋯ finding a wounded little bunny. ↠ Littered in dried blood and scratches, Reine was in their bunny-form when Natsume had discovered them. Their eyes opened a smidgen, watching as the mysterious stranger began pouring out the contents in his basket onto the forest ground. "Don't be afraid," he whispered to them mollifyingly, careful not to further agitate her, "I'm not going to hurt you." ↠ Reine didn't have the potency to fight back, pliantly allowing Natsume to scoop her up and place them delicately into his basket. Natsume didn't look like he wanted to harm her, so they placed a semblance of trust in him. ↠ Taking them back to his little cottage, Natsume began to nurse Reine back to health⋯

✧ .

Bandages swathed feeble arms and legs as equally enervated fingers coiled around the handle of the broom, brushing the specks of accumulated dirt and dust into a disorderly pile.

From outside the sparkling window, birds and forest critters twitter and chirrup—each euphonious noise congruently swirling in Reine’s movements no matter how languorously she swept. She still couldn’t believe there was a little cottage like this hidden away in the thickets of the forest they visited so frequently, she thought they practically memorized every inch of it.

The antiquated doors swung open abruptly, causing Reine to spring in the air as a frisson of panic surged down the column of their spine, and the broom that was nestled in her hands was snatched from her. 

“What are you doing, little bunny?”

Reine’s lips parted as they descried Natsume, the forest-dwelling witch (wizard, as he’ll often correct a certain someone) who saved their life. Placing a hand over their palpitating heart to ameliorate the irregular beats, Reine exhaled, “Your place is such a mess⋯ I can’t relax like this.”

“That was the opportunity to say ‘Natsume-kun, I’m doing it to repay you!’, you know,” Natsume chortled mirthfully as he set the broom against the wall, trailing over to the wooden table smothered in a multitude of differing ingredients and vials.

Pulling out his wand and with genteel motions, Natsume cast a spell to elevate the mess on his table—putting everything Reine had been toiling at for the past thirty minutes to utter shame. “You should’ve asked me to tidy up before I left. You need your rest, you naughty bunny,” he simpered over his shoulder at them, that curve on his lips making Reine feel as if butterflies had infested the pit of their stomach.

“⋯ Regrettably, it’s not like I can do much else besides cleaning,” Reine murmured as tinctures of contrite pervaded across their countenance, eyebrows furrowing together as the ears atop their head drooped.

“About that, Reine,” Natsume began, enunciating her name with a mystifying drawl that captivated them even more. Why was he suddenly so serious and ruminative? “Do you want to learn? About potion-making and magic?”

The question caught Reine off-guard, their glimmering blue eyes widening in her stagger. “Me? Learn magic?” she stammered out, cogitating on the notion that he’d be willing to educate and tutor her, “⋯ It does sound fun.”

Discerning that soft, innocently blithesome smile on her lips, Natsume knew the feelings blossoming in his heart was nothing else but pure, unbridled adoration. “I’ll teach you then!” he declared, spinning in his spot.

“Really?!”

“On one condition,” Natsume came in close to Reine, the propinquity between their faces minuscule, “Become my familiar. Give yourself to me, and I’ll teach you everything I know. If you do, I’ll call us even for me saving you♪”

Witch!Natsume who summons demon!Reine and tries to form a pact with them (Natsume jokes that a kiss can seal the contract. Reine lowkey believes it)

↠ Ever since Natsume was a child, he dreamt of rabbits. Because of his interest in the occult and magic, he did extensive research into what that meant. Luck, fortune, and love were some of the reasons listed in the treatises. It wasn't until he began to dream about a certain figure, surrounded by a surplus of the rabbits always plaguing his vision, that Natsume realized it⋯ he was being haunted by a demon. ↠ 'Haunted' could be such a strong word, yes, but Natsume felt it was accurate to his plight at the moment. He wanted to see them, that demon—desperately. Because⋯⋯ he was in love with her. ↠ And so started Natsume's numerous attempts to find that demon from his dreams, their name still eluding him. ↠ "Gross, I didn't want to summon you," Natsume sneered at yet another failed attempt to conjure the one who occupied his thoughts and heart. The demon before him, Tsumugi, wept at the cruelty Natsume exhibited.

"How mean⋯! (Considering this is the fifth time you've summoned me!) But, if you're trying to summon Reine-chan, I recommend using wooden dolls carved from birch wood and in the image of a rabbit. About⋯ three should do!" Tsumugi proffered his advice, screaming as Natsume began pulling out the cross he kept on him in case this happened, "I'm leaving, I'm leaving!" ↠ Natsume wouldn't stop trying to summon her. Never, ever. Like the rabbits still within his dreams, he'll achieve success soon⋯

✧ .

The flickering of a long, black tail captivated Natsume’s attention as he stared in complete incredulity at the demon sitting in the middle of his cluttered, hand-drawn pentagram—his bedroom floor was besmeared in chalk, candles, and other inscriptions he researched to aid him.

“It⋯⋯ finally worked!” Natsume proclaimed, the articulation almost strained from the overwhelming relief inundating every fissure in his body; and he was practically oblivious to the discombobulation etching on the demon’s face (or rather, he needed to luxuriate in that cute expression a little longer).

Tilting her head, two curved horns following the motion, Reine squinted their blue eyes, still in a state of confusion, “Wait, wait! Who are you? You intentionally summoned me?”

Truthfully, Reine wasn’t a noteworthy, eminent demon—they couldn’t fathom why this human desired to go to such lengths for the sake of them.

“Call me Natsume, we can skip the formalities♪” Stepping over his ritualistic items, Natsume eradicated the distance between them in a swift movement. His fingers gracefully trailed to Reine’s hands, interlocking them together as he brought them up. “And of course I did~”

Gripped with flummox, Reine shook their head, squirming her fingers, “Why me?”

“Because I want to form a pact with you,” Natsume elucidated with an audacious reassurance, knowing deep in his heart this is exactly what he wishes for, “You’ll grow stronger if you form a pact with a human, taking the essence from my soul. And in exchange for giving you my life, you’ll grant my wish. That’s how it goes, correct?”

“⋯ Yes, it is,” Reine answered, albeit her tentativeness was present in every syllable dripping from her melodious tongue, “What wish do you have that you’d throw your life away for?”

“It’s a secret♪”

“Such a weird human⋯”

The pitch-black wings sprouting from Reine’s back fluttered as they considered Natsume’s offer—although, she couldn’t say they had much knowledge on making pacts since they were such a low-ranking demon before.

Judging from the state of Natsume’s bedroom, he appeared to retain much more expertise than them. Plus, there was something⋯ familiar, about Natsume. Reine couldn’t place why that was, but they felt as if there was already a deep attachment between them; right in the nexus of her soul.

Heaving a sigh, Reine squeezed Natsume’s hands—they were so much more cold than a demon’s, but he’d say hers were simply too hot—and nodded her head. “A-Alright, we can form a pact together,” they whispered, breath falling from their quivering lips in short puffs, “but your wish better not be something ridiculous.”

There was still something so intimate and nerve-racking about binding themself to someone, especially since there would be no turning back until Natsume’s life was entirely consumed by her.

After a moment of silence between the two of them, Natsume smirked, a mischievous gleam in his eyes, “Well? Aren’t you going to kiss me?”

“Wh-What?! Why would I do that⋯?!”

“It’s how we complete the pact. Didn’t you know?”

Of course, that was just a little trick, Reine!

Natsume accidentally(or intentionally) turned himself to a cat and needed a kiss from a princess to revert back into a human (I choose a cat since it really fits him^^)

↠ Natsume is a wizard and Reine is a princess. Within the Kingdom of Angora, magic is strictly prohibited after an incident involving the royal family. ↠ Natsume, alongside his prodigy Sora and his begrudgingly loyal helper Tsumugi, wishes to bring magic back to the kingdom. They want to make the subjects smile again, to breathe life and effervescence back into everyone. And Reine, after having witnessed Natsume practising magic on one of their endeavours to breach past the strictness of their parents' rules, fully supports them. ↠ Reine is often sneaking around through secret passages that Natsume himself made within the castle, each one infused with his magic, just to see him and the other two (Sora swears he'll be the one to make Reine smile the biggest, most brightest smile imaginable!)⋯

✧ .

Standing on their grandiose balcony, twines of extravagant lace flourishing from each pillar—each carving of fine wood reflecting its opulent state—Reine couldn’t help but lean against the edge as her vacuous eyes stared at the expanse of the kingdom beneath them.

“I’m exhausted⋯ why do I need to attend so many dance lessons?” they griped with a soft exhale, the blustering wind taking the complaint and carrying it to the ends of the world. If only it would steal her away, too.

“Because you have two left feet, little princess,” a silvery, disembodied voice chimed.

“Eep!” Leaping backwards at the unexpected company, Reine felt the light brush of silky fur rub against their leg; and as they peered downwards, they gasped upon examining the red cat at her feet.

Rubbing against her leg a little more before precariously jumping onto the balcony’s railing, the cat purred, “You better be careful, cats eat bunnies, you know.”

It was then that Reine became cognizant of the true identity of the cat, and beads of sweat accumulated on the nape of their neck. “Natsume-kun⋯ why are you a cat?” she questioned warily.

Also, cats definitely do not eat rabbits.

“You know my apprentice, Sora? I was trying to teach him a new spell, and he got it wrong,” Natsume clarified, a lucid fondness popping in the tones of his voice at the memory, “So, here I am.”

Watching with rapt attentiveness as Natsume licked his paw before cleaning his face, as if the constitution of a cat had already been deeply interwoven into his being, Reine asked, “And how do you turn back into a human?”

“That’s where you come in,” Natsume’s whiskers swished with every movement as he gazed up at them, “I need a kiss from a princess to reverse the spell.”

Feeling their cheeks flush hotly at the implication, Rene’s heel clacked as they took a timorous step back. “Wh-What? Am I the only princess you know?!” she squeaked, embarrassment threading through their mien, “⋯ W-Wait, don’t ask someone else.”

A vivacious bubble of laughter spilled from Natsume’s kitten mouth—could they be any more adorable?—and he shook his head. “Even if I did, I’d want you to kiss me, little princess,” Natsume lilted, “Why else would I have risked coming all this way to see you? Please?”

It’s not often that Natsume asks for help from Reine; they can do this one thing for him, can’t they?

Gingerly reaching forward, Reine took Natsume into her arms, his paws resting cutely on both of her shoulders, and felt their heart melt at the vulnerable sight before them.

Their lush lips pressed down onto Natsume as his lithe, tiny body mirrored her actions—and an exuberant wisp of smoke enveloped the two of them, sparkles and stars coruscating in harmony.

There was a moment of dissonance as Reine felt the weight in their hands vanish, and the sensation of wetness against her lips along with it, before a firm, impassioned kiss was pressed against their lips once more.

Except this time, the lips were definitely human♪

[roosterr]

firewatch | day 01

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john price x gn!reader wc; 2.7k summary; a firewatch tower in the heart of a state park is as far away from your trainwreck life as you can get. the company of the man in your radio is just a bonus.

(if you saw this the first time i posted it no you didn't) my entry for the o captain challenge hosted by the lovely @glitterypirateduck, using prompt 61; first day at a new job! this au lives in my brain now please enjoy!

the air is crisp here. bright orange sunsets, dry summer heat, the gentle sound of birdsong and the wind through the trees – it was all a welcome change of pace, and with the added bonus of being nothing like your home in the city, but isn't that exactly why you’re here? the solitude, a blank slate, and some much needed peace and fucking quiet.

a branch snags your leg as you step through the underbrush, but the sting it leaves behind is little more than an afterthought. your backpack hasn't changed you left, but it feels heavier somehow as you jerk it higher on your shoulders. tiredness hangs from your limbs and makes it a struggle to push forward, but the lookout is in view now, and with night closing in fast, you want to get there sooner rather than later.

the wind is louder all the way up here – and it has a chill to it now, that nips at you through your airy clothes – but as you make it up the first few steps, the wood creaking under your weight, the view over the forest fills you with a melancholy sense of awe that tightens in your chest. it's beautiful. if only you could've had a better reason to see it.

the rest of the stairs are a breeze compared to the trail you've been following all day. the sun has only just dipped below the horizon, bathing the landscape in an indigo wash and shrouding the trees in cool shadows. 

with the last of your energy, and one final glance over the steadily darkening view, you push open the door and step over the threshold. it's completely dark inside once you close the door, with the shutters closed over the windows, but there's a wonderful calmness to it that almost soothes the ache in your muscles. 

you feel blindly for the generator switch, as you'd been told to, following the red glow until it's under your fingers and you can press the button. the bulb overhead flickers to life, and the small room you'll call home for the next few months is bathed in a dim yellow light.

you blink as your eyes adjust, and take in your surroundings. central in the room is an osborne fire finder – which you, of course, knew existed before you impulsively applied for this job – and a small but effective kitchen along one wall. there's also a log burner nestled into one corner, and a desk beside the door stacked with cardboard boxes labelled 'tower 7 supplies'. 

your gaze finally lands on the bed in the far corner, and a sigh of relief passes your lips at the sight of the comforter folded on top. perhaps it had seen better days, but you had reached the point where you simply didn't care anymore. you slip your backpack from your shoulders and drop it in the general direction of the desk chair, letting it fall unceremoniously to the floor in favour of smoothing out the bedding.

your fingers barely get to brush the fabric before you're interrupted.

"evenin', tower seven." from a worn yellow radio, partially hidden between two boxes, comes a voice that cuts through the otherwise silent room. his words are distorted slightly by the static, but you can still make out the deep gravel of his tone.

for a moment, you can only blink at the object, hands still hovering over the comforter as your tired mind catches up. you drag your feet back over to the desk with a muted sigh, kicking your backpack in the process and nearly stumbling over yourself, but you manage to grab the radio and stay upright.

"uh… hello? whoever this is?" you reply, the obvious uncertainty in your voice making you cringe as you hear it.

the stranger on the other end shares none of your hesitation, responding within a second of you finishing your sentence. "john price. i’m in tower six, east of you." 

you make a noise of recognition, nodding even though he has no way of seeing it, "right, the guy mentioned you on the phone." 

"saw your light on, thought i'd say hello." john says, with a lot more energy than you can muster right now. it would've been a welcome distraction any other time, but right now you just want him to stop talking so you can finally sleep.

"good to meet you, neighbour. i'm…" you stifle a yawn, and open and shut your mouth a few times trying to decide what to say next. "…i'm gonna go to bed. no offence"

you hear him scoff through the interference, "not even gonna introduce yourself?"

"you already know who i am, don't you?" you grumble, your eyes locking wistfully onto the mattress that awaits you as you try to hold back another yawn. "listen, if i don't go to sleep in the next thirty seconds, i'll probably die."

there's a pause before he responds again with a chuckle. "alright, i won't keep ya, we'll talk tomorrow."

you don't bother answering, and instead just slot the radio clumsily back into its station. you flip the lightswitch, plunging the room back into darkness, and shuffle slowly back over to your bed. you tug your boots off, and you're out as soon as your head hits the pillow.

when you wake up, the sun is already low in the sky, casting long shadows over the park below that don't quite reach your tower yet. your muscles burn and ache like you knew they would, but there's also a relief that comes with knowing you have no obligations to tend to – apart from your duties as a fire lookout of course, but that was trivial compared to what you left behind.

the air is still warm outside, the breeze that passes by your tower cooling to a pleasant degree as you pause on the balcony. you're not sure you like the way the wood creaks as you slowly make your way around, and opening the shutters took a lot more arm strength than you were expecting, but it was more than worth it for the view you got from your desk.

the journal you reluctantly bought at the advice of your therapist sits open in front of you, your pen twirled absently between your fingers as you gaze out at the horizon instead of the blank page before you. wasn't writing out your feelings supposed to make them easier to deal with? then why was it so difficult to come up with a single word to put down?

with a frustrated huff passing your lips, you drop your pen onto the desk and your head into your hands. when your therapist had suggested keeping a diary as a part of your healing journey, you really didn't think it would be this difficult. you've been sitting here for twenty minutes, and all you've managed is the date.

"mornin'," your lamenting is interrupted by john's voice through the radio again. you're almost surprised that he actually wants to talk to you, but then again, there aren't that many people out here to talk with anyway. "i can see you at your desk, so i'll assume you got to sleep on time and didn't die last night."

your lips quirk into a smile as you reach for your radio, flipping your journal shut and shoving it to the back of the desk.

"uh, yeah, sorry. guess i overslept." you reply, somewhat sheepishly. you didn't even bother setting the alarm clock on your nightstand before you passed out – in fact, you didn't even plug it in, but you're honestly not sure if it would've made a difference. "what time is it, like, six?"

"quarter to seven."

you squeeze your eyes shut and cringe to yourself. "...oh."

john chuckles, a deep rumble that slightly eases the embarrassment of passing out for most of the day. "s'alright, that hike knocks everyone out for a day or two."

there's a comfortable lull in the conversation, and you take the opportunity to look over the fire finder, scanning the area east of your tower in an attempt to pinpoint exactly where john's is. you find the annotation for tower six easily and turn to gaze at it through your east window, the silhouette of it clear against the early evening sky.

you wonder if he's doing the same thing, or if he even talks to any of the other towers. you don't have any neighbours besides him, the interviewer had mentioned that to you, but you know john does. he seems eager to talk to you, the same as last night, so either way you suppose he's just happy to have a fresh face to talk to.

it's not long before the quiet is cut short by john's voice crackling through the radio again. "what’s your story then? must be a good one to have you all the way out here."

you make an indignant face at his question, as if he can see it. "what’s that supposed to mean?"

"c’mon love," the nickname should feel odd, he's only one step above a stranger to you, but it flows so naturally off his tongue that you barely even question it. "there’s only one reason anyone takes this job, and that’s to get away– from something, someone, somewhere, all of the above,"

"all of the above, let's just leave it at that." you mumble, brow furrowing. your eyes dart back to the journal laying untouched in the shadow under the window.

"relationship troubles?" he asks. the question itself is innocent enough, but the lingering thought only causes your frown to deepen. "that's why most people come out here."

"yeah, something like that…" you mutter in reply. a sigh escapes you as you drop yourself back into your chair, picking up the stray pinecone on your desk with your free hand. "anyway, enough about me, it's your turn smartass."

you hear john huff, something like a laugh, and the sound lightens your own  expression. "is it now?"

"you said it yourself, only reason people ever take this job is to get away from something." your lips quirk up at the corner now the tables have turned, and you distractedly roll the pinecone back and forth on your palm. "so what are you running from?"

"don’t pull your punches, eh?" he hums, his tone flat. 

"just following your lead, price." there's a long pause as you wait for his response, the smile slowly falling from your lips with every second that passes is silence. "you don't have to tell me, y'know."

"no, no, it's–" he cuts himself short, clearing his throat in an undeniably uncomfortable manner, "i lost someone, a good friend, few years ago now."

your jaw falls open, the pinecone dropping from your hand as you freeze in shock. you try to find the words to comfort, but they get stuck in your chest and all you can muster is a solemn; "i… i'm so sorry…"

"don't be." he replies, quieter than before, in a way that makes your brows pull together. "was my fault."

another long silence, but this time a small guilt forms in your mind. if it was enough to drive him out here, it must be a memory worth forgetting, and you can't help but feel bad for bringing it up – despite the fact that you couldn't have known. still, he sounded so defeated, and you don't actually know him more than the two conversations you've had with him, but he didn't sound like himself at all. you make a mental note to stay away from the topic.

"so, uhm," you stumble over breaking the silence, dropping your head into your palm as the shame creeps up your spine. you need to change the subject, you don't want to leave it on that upsetting note, so you pick the most obvious small talk question you can think of. "what did you used to do, before this?"

"i was in the sas, for about twenty years." john answers, thankfully, still with a distant sound to his voice. you'd half expected him to be done with you after that bombshell, but it seems you didn't completely scare him off.

"oh, no shit!" you reply, your surprise this time a lot more lighthearted. "that's way better than what i used to do…"

john breathes a chuckle, and you smile to yourself in triumph. "highly doubt that, love."

you respond with a good-natured scoff and roll your eyes. "seriously? there's no world where an office job is cooler than the fucking sas."

"i think you'd be surprised." the sound of a door opening and shutting is faintly heard in the background as he speaks, and then the unmistakable creak of the floorboards under him. "it's hard work, y'know."

"c'mon, you got to see the world! all i ever got to see was the inside of a meeting room. for several unnecessary hours at a time." your smile morphs into a grimace at the memory of your old job – you were more than grateful that part of your life was over now.

"i'd've killed for that amount of down time a few years ago," he muses, something nostalgic in his voice as he continues, "never had a moment's peace in the service."

you told your head and hum thoughtfully. "yeah, i guess i never thought about it like that. but don't you find it a little… slow out here?"

"'course i do, but sometimes that's exactly what you need. never'a guessed i'd enjoy bein' bored outta my mind, but here we are, eh?"

"you're probably right." you release a deep breath, your eyes finding the red clouds of the horizon and following the last rays of sunlight to the treetops below. "always wanted to be someone who had things happen in their life, but as soon as things started actually happening to me, all i wanna do is go back to how things were."

you feel the hesitation before he speaks again. "this about your all of the above?"

"yeah..." you sigh, bringing your free hand up to smooth over the crease between your brows. "so maybe being bored outta my mind is what i need."

"you'll get used to it. might even start to like it– i did."

"here's hoping." you try not to dampen the mood, but you can only manage a quiet mutter in return. your stare follows the dark forms of a couple of birds against the indigo sky, and you find yourself wishing for that kind of freedom. you have to shake your head to bring yourself back to the present. "but anyway, i won't be completely losing my mind. i have you to bother, don't i?"

"right back at ya, rookie."

you snort. "rookie? seriously? thought you quit all that military shit."

"old habits die hard." he replies, the smile he's undoubtedly wearing evident even through the radio. "supposed to be a cold one tonight, might wanna stock up on firewood."

"i'll take your word for it, i saw some by the shed yesterday." you stand from your desk and stretc your back with your arms above your head. by now, only the very last of the sun's rays still light the sky, and when you step outside the air has already gotten noticeably cooler.

"think i'll sign off for the night, then." his words draw your eyes over to the barely visible shadow of tower six against the dark blue of the night. "if you ever need anything, just gimme a shout, yeah?" he sounds more serious now, leaving no room for doubt that he's genuine, and after a second he adds in a murmur, "even if it's just for a chat.".

"i will. talking with you is nice." you smile to yourself, soft and more heartfelt than you've managed in a long while. "plus, i'll get pretty lonely out here if i ignore my only neighbour."

he chuckles again. "can't argue with that. g'night, rookie."

"night, john." you return, slipping the radio into your pocket. you'd woken up this morning – evening, actually – with a deep uncertainty weighing on your mind; for this job, what drove you here, what will happen after. for now, though, you find it easy to ignore that doubt and focus on where you are now. you came here to escape, and you'll be damned if you let what happened haunt you here, too.

before you descend the stairs, you give one last glance over your shoulder at the distant lights in john's tower, and thank god that this job listing found you when it did.

[carrieway]

14 24 34 for the dw asks? ^.^

14. Best regeneration?

i'm only currently knowledgeable of nuwho regenerations, and honestly i'm at a four-way tie !! from nine all the way to twelve, they all bring such different emotions and experiences that i love them all (even when eleven and twelve broke my heart TT)- but i will say, ten's regeneration to eleven, taking into deleted script pieces where the doctor discussed the master and how he went down his path vs the doctor very clearly being at the crossroads of that same path but choosing kindness over everything- it's so so good imo. i wish they kept that line in during the doc's and wilf's talk !! it would've added so much more to it !!

eleven and twelve's speeches however will stick with me the most, and have helped me a lot in rough patches frankly, so those will always get huge amounts of appreciation from me. and nine's "you were fantastic" and so was i" is just !!!! he went from being so ashamed of himself and full of hate and pain over what he had to do, to proudly proclaiming, in his last words that he was absolutely fantastic. nine is such a wonderful doctor, even in his one season.

24. Best TARDIS Team?

oooh certainly a question for the ages- i'll always land back on Mickey/Rose/Jack/Nine as my favorite, seeing their fun conversation and all of them just having a lunch together feels so nice and grounded, and it makes me wonder what they all got up to without all the huge adventures taking the lead.

the best however for me is of course the medusa cascade gang, you truly cannot go wrong with every one of the doctor's friends (in that current time) helping him and saving the universe just as he did for them.

34. Best two-parter?

my instinct is to say the empty child/the doctor dances as those are my comfort episodes (seeing the doctor truly happy and everyone surviving is something i think should happen just a little bit more for them tbh :[ ) but i really think the lie of the land/monk episodes are really stand out ones. the entire plotline of them are so unique, taking a few tropes and previously done outlines and filling them in with something so frankly intense and captivating. my first viewing (a few months back actually !!), i was really honestly shocked by so much of the stuff, my mom really enjoyed them too- esp with how the monks didn't entirely talk by moving their mouths-, and tbh when the doc claimed to be on the monks side, i got so amped and upset ndndnd n even after when he was like "lol jk" i still was annoyed a bit because of how heavy of a choice bill had to make vs the doctor being all smiles after (i have my own read on all of that but i dont wanna make this even longer ndndndn)

runner ups are ofc simm!master's episodes, the doctor falls duo, and honestly !! i enjoyed spyfall, even with my critics around some of the writing :]

thank you very much for the questions !!!! i really liked thinking over my answers ee

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Of Monsters And Men

(Season 2)

Chapter 6 - Redanian Intelligence

Summary: Just when you thought Kaer Morhen was dulling down in her winter face does a certain mage you haven't seen since Sodden present herself in the quiet. Now with Triss here can Ciri finally catch a chance to do some real magic, but what of the decapitated monster head with it’s origins still a thrilling mystery?

Warning: nothing too wild, fluff

Word count: 8678

Masterlist - Of Monsters And Men masterlist here

Standing on the thick branch of a tree do you rest a hand on the pines bark, crimson eyes ever watchful as you trail your sights across the fern and snow covered forest floor below near the grounds of Kaer Morhen. Today is decently overcast, spitting out flecks of white all over the land as you keep hidden in the trees.

Now you're not just out here unprompted for some casual sight seeing, in fact, you're actually above the Witcher training grounds aiding in the agility of young Ciri to further her training. Although now since you have a moment to think about it, maybe this way of training might be a little harsh, well, sort of. But in all regards did Ciri want this type of Witcherly activity to increase her agility, perception, and overall endurance.

The game being, she needs to run the whole course without you catching her once or it's all over and she's essentially been turned into monster food. You're obviously not planning on sucking her dry from bloodlust, yet you are excited to see what the little lioness has in her. As all the other times you've brought her to the course was it for simply running in the woods like a scared deer.

Pretending to be chased by you, pretending to be hunted. Now this will feel real.

After some time standing around and practically twiddling your thumbs do you hear the familiar sounds of her hard breathing in the frosty air. Heart pumping a mile a minute as she swiftly runs through the woodland, dodging past roots and trees alike as she hauls butt. Ciri brushes up against a couple ferns when she suddenly stops dead, listening to her surroundings.

Her shifting gaze looks left and right, behind her and then in front once again. Then she looks up at the tree tops to her left, looking to her right where not a single stick is out of place, nothing weird in the slightest. Nervously she takes a slow gingerly step forward, gaze still rightfully cautious, knowing you're somewhere close by and absolutely dreading being found before she  meets the training course' end.

It's so close now.

Suddenly she bolts onward, arms pumping hard as she runs like the wind past ferns and trees standing tall. From behind the tree she was previously standing near, do you take a few casual steps out into the open. Watching as the back of Ciri quickly disappears behind some more trees, oh she was so close too.

But you can't seem to make yourself end this game quite yet, she's really doing well too, well for the most part. In between feeling on edge because of your constantly hidden whereabouts and sensing you're near yet not seeing you at all. You take a step to follow the running princess to wherever she finds herself next. This leading on for another good fifteen minutes before you decide to have some real fun.

Inhumanly fast do you run around her where she's not able to see nor hear you in the forest, when she grows tired does she quickly hide behind a tree to take a rest. Somewhat out of sight while panting like an old dog, green-blue eyes shifting left to right as she tries to calm her breaths to listen for anything out of the ordinary.

After a short while do you break a stick to her far right, Ciri holds in a gasp before booking it out of there as she turns left racing past more ferns. But just as she goes to pass by a thick pine does your light laughter float on the air causing her to stop abruptly near a small hill next to the trail. She looks frantically all around yet can see nothing weird.

"Where the fuck are you?" Whispers Ciri to herself, eyes nervously shifting from tree to tree.

She hears a stick snap behind her and whips around to see absolutely nothing but more woods below, then she grows with a sense of being watched, dread filling up in her chest almost instantly. Ciri quickly turns around to come face to face with you and two eyes of blood red crimson which causes her to gasp in fright.

Your smile grows, "Boo." You whisper as she draws in a sharp breath and looses her balance when taking a hasty step backwards.

You watch as Ciri yelps at the loss of footing, tumbling down the small hill of ferns and onto the trail below where she lands with an oomf. You snicker to yourself when suddenly the voices of both Ciri and someone else are heard over the short hill below where the trail to Kaer Morhen is located, you know that voice. It speaks to her kindly, asking if she's also headed to the Witcher fortress.

Ciri takes a step backwards as the woman speaks, "I appreciate the suspicion, but be reasonable. Would I have gotten this far if I didn't know the way?" Ciri says nothing as the woman takes a step forward, "Let me look." She says, referring to the cut on her cheek, Ciri lets her walk up and gently heal it with magic.

The woman smiles, grateful to have a little bit of trust now, "Your heart beats faster. I heard it."

"And what about mine?"

Triss startles for only a brief moment as she turns to find you on her immediate right only a couple feet away, sneaky bastard you are as always, she thinks. How she truly didn't hear you is incredible. Luckily her smile returns, "Y/N. I'd suspected you'd find yourself to Geralt in one way or another. It's good to see you, you look well."

"Well." You shrug, "You look, not exceptionally warm."

Triss chuckles lightly, "It's not so bad. I wanted to walk here and see the woods, it's rather peaceful this time of year. And I found her." She says, looking to Ciri now who's expression remains uncertain and wary about all of this.

"Oh, right." You walk over to rest a hand on her small shoulder, "Ciri this is Triss, Triss this is Ciri, good now we're all acquainted and what on all the Continent is that fucking smell?" You question while making a slightly disgusted face just as Geralt makes his way onto the trail. You turn around to see that he's got a wild boar hung over his shoulders, hands bloody, and shirt a bit of a mess.

He nods at the mage next to you, "Triss."

Ciri looks from her to him, "And a friend of Geralt's too." She then begins to walk away, "You must be quite charitable." She then stops to look between the three of you standing in a semi-close triangle all looking between one another. Oh this is indeed strange, thinks Ciri.

"It's nice to see you both." Triss says with a little grin as you snort.

"Is it?"

"It's good to see you too." Adds Geralt over your comment. Well things are about to get absolutely way more interesting. ——

Ciri opens up the door to the great Witcher evening hall as you follow in behind her, Triss and Geralt right behind you as your eyes find first Vesemir standing right in front of the fire. With Lambert who attends to it on the right metal rim, the old wolf's eyes find you four walking in.

"Geralt brought dinner." You yell as Vesemir looks rather pleasantly surprised.

"More then that." He says while beginning to find his way across the hall to meet her in the middle while Ciri shuts the door and you walk past them just as Lambert stands up from the flames.

Coen sets a foot on the bench to his brothers left as the redhead looks to Triss, "Oh, hell, haven't even had me fill of grog yet, and already the women are tripling." He jests while crossing his arms over his chest before giving her a respectable nod, "Merigold."

"Lambert." She speaks in acknowledgment, "I see your wounds have improved, but your manners have not."

The small crowd chuckles as you walk over to sit on a table near Ciri, "Oh you've got that right in the pocket." She shares a knowing smirk with you as Lambert simply rolls his eyes at you two.

"I wish you'd come sooner." Begins Vesemir, "We all could have used you."

Geralt looks to her, "Hopefully we still can."

She smiles before taking a breath and walking forward, "I'll go dress for dinner. I assume you'll all want to wash up as well?" Both Coen and Lambert snort as you and the girls chuckle, she simply shakes her head, "Of course not." And with that does Triss walk off to go and find her old room.

You can feel the curiously enchanted gaze of Ciri fall from Geralt standing over a few feet away to you sitting casually next to her, "So how do you three know each other?" ——

As the evening draws near and the wild boar has been cooked and set upon your plates along with bread and some greens. Have you found a seat among your odd bunch of friends plus Triss who you're admittedly very appreciative for joining you and Ciri in Kaer Morhen. So  many men...so many men.

To your left is Vesemir, space on your right saved for Triss and the far right sits Coen on the end. Directly opposite of you is Ciri, Geralt on her right and Lambert on her left who takes a drink from his cup while you set your down, licking your lips of the flavor. It's no royal ale or tavern wine, hell its not even blood, but it's Witcher made and will do fine enough.

"Can we start? I'm starving." Exclaims the hungry princess as you fiddle with your fork, waiting for Triss to sit as you've all made it a point to have some manners after all and wait for her.

She finally finds herself to your right before taking a seat, "It's quieter in here then I remember."

"More food for the rest of us." States Coen.

"My bellies cooled down." Mutters Lambert as you eat a chunk of boar meat.

"Speaking of bellies." Begins Ciri as she looks to him, "Aren't there any herbs or mushrooms for me today?"

"In December?" Questions Triss, unsure of what she's referring to with those kinds of earthly greens.

Lambert coughs awkwardly, stealing a knowing glance from you before leaning in next to Ciri, "That windmill knock your head about, Princess?" He then sits back over to his spot once more, trying to be as casual about it as possible, focusing on his meal though his eyes glance up at you as you give him a slow nod. It's not as though she gets fed mushrooms all the time, just here and there.

Ciri gets the hint to keep the healing remedies between the few who only know about them, she takes a bite of bread, "Right." Triss still remains unsure as Ciri decides to change the subject, "So, Geralt says you saved his life." She sends Triss a questioning look, clearly wanting to know more about this.

Triss smiles, "Now I can't say it was by my full doing." She turns her head to give you a small glance before looking at Ciri, "Both Y/N and Geralt found themselves in my kingdom a time ago. Helped me with a...a princess in trouble."

"Nastier then you, even." Muses Geralt.

You send her an amused glance, "A right grizzly bastard."

Ciri nods in agreement, humoring you both, "Mmm hmm." Clearly under the assumption that this is some inside joke between the three of you and the actual reason for the meeting of you three is something else less interesting. Or possibly more then she needs to hear, she doesn't know every thing about you all still, but she does know a lot.

Triss remains unfazed though her dark eyes twinkle with mischief, "They're not joking. That princess took a big chunk out of him, threw Y/N around a bit too. But they saved her anyway."

Ciri rests her arms upon the table, starting to get that this may have been truthful after all, and very plausible too, "Well, you healed my cheek. Seems pretty impressive too." Triss grins at this as Ciri takes a drink from her cup, "I like your dress."

"Thank you." Leaving Triss with a smile upon her face, no one ever tells her that when she's here, not even you, well, for the most part. Lets just say her particular style isn't exactly your kind of regular attire.

Ciri takes another drink as you do the same, she looks to Triss, "Would you like me to show you around the keep?"

"I actually know this place pretty well."

Vesemir nods, "When Geralt told me what Triss had done for him, I invited her here."

You snort as they share a fond smile between one another, "Why she chose to actually come is beyond me. This place smells of goat and rotten apple core most of the time." You jest causing both Triss and Coen to laugh as Lambert rolls his amber eyes while chewing a piece of boar meat.

"I brought her here for you." Adds Geralt as Ciri looks to him, "To help guide you. Something none of us have the ability to do, not even Y/N."

You give her a nod, "If I could claim hold of a little chaos I'd have turned Lambert into a fox by now."

"Hey."

Ciri chuckles as she looks up at Geralt, "What, like Mousesack did for my mother?"

"Just like Mousesack." Says Geralt as Ciri shifts her thoughtful gaze from him to Triss, "But now it's time for bed."

Ciri breaks out into a humored grin, clearly not wanting to do that, "I'm not tired."

"All right, come on, you little rat." Intervenes Coen as he pushes himself up to stand, "I'll play a few rounds of snaps with you before bed, better that then have Y/N work you till you're too tired to stand. And. Maybe, I might even let you win."

She scoffs, "Yeah, you wish." Moving to stand just as Lambert does the same, you watch as she walks to the end of the table before turning to look at you all still seated, "Night, everyone." Grinning as softly as a nightshade.

"Goodnight." Mutters Geralt.

"Good night, Ciri." Smiles Triss as Lambert adds his own goodnight into the mix.

You gift her a wink, "Don't let the ghouls get you in the dark." She shakes her head at you, smiling nonetheless before turning to walk off and find the door across the room, Coen trailing after her just as Vesemir says his goodnights to you three before leaving the table as well.

When all have gone elsewhere to their respective places does the table claim just yourself, Triss, and Geralt, and a single thick burning candle in the center of the table. Triss glances questioningly between the two of you, "So how do you three know each other?" You could have laughed considering this is the same thing Ciri asked not even three hours ago.

Geralt sighs as his golden gaze falls over to you, you give him a look before turning to face Triss, "Long story."  She raises a brow as you sigh and decide it best to tell her the whole wild tale of all that and more. After the story is said and done with do you take a breath before downing the rest of your drink. Somehow you can remember it all like it was yesterday, though in fact it was about fourteen years ago, not quite yesterday however your memory is superior if you say so yourself.

Triss gives the two of you a knowing look as her sights set onto Geralt, "So your surprise was more surprising than you'd imagined."

"And mysterious." He adds, "She won't tell us anything from before the fall of Cintra."

"Well.." You tilt your head at him, "..to you."

Geralt's brows furrow as he shares a look with you, "What has she said?"

You shrug, "That's between two princesses, my love." Childhood endeavors, really nothing more.

"Well," Begins Triss, "if her mother did have powers, as you both claim, if she was a mage who never probably harnessed. The child could have inherited an evolved version of it. But it's just an untested theory." She pauses a moment, "When did Ciri start exhibiting signs of Chaos?"

Geralt purses his lips together, "That's the issue. She hasn't exhibited any typical indicators of Chaos. She can't even form Witcher signs."

Triss' brows furrow, "What do you mean by "typical?"

You rest your elbow against the table to lean your head against it as you turn to look at her better, "Seems our little princess may have the power of foresight. She seems to have visions of things that have yet to come to pass...that, and she almost constantly smells of magic, but yes. Visions."

"Like what?"

"She saw Geralt in the aftermath of Sodden Hill. She saw me with, she saw me there as I was killing soldiers." You whisper solemnly, you still can't bring yourself to speak too freely of Yennefer.

Triss looks at you fondly, knowing all too well what it was truly like to be there. "No one should ever have to gaze upon that carnage. That loss."  

"There's more." Says Geralt after a moment, "Ciri felt something else."

——

"A pull." He continues as the three of you walk into the giant room held mostly for studying monsters and creating elixirs, "Towards the leshy that turned Eskel. Like a compass to a magnet, she led us straight to it." You all make your way down the short stone steps to a wooden table near the center where some candles remain and the covered head of that monster he killed a few days ago lays.

You grab the edge of the blood stained cloth, "And then this." You pull it off to reveal the decapitated half sliced open head of whatever the fuck it actually is. All gore and blood and nasty, "This fucker tore it in half and charged us."

Triss' eyes widen, "Gods." Expression appearing rather concerned as she glances between you two questioningly, "What is it?"

"I've never seen anything like it before." Replies Geralt as he walks around the table to stand at your side, "Neither of us have."

You rest your hands against the table as she observes the ugly creature, "However it did try to get her. Both of them did."

"To do what?"

"Probably to have a nice little tea party." You jest, "We didn't get to find out due to Geralt not letting it live." He smirks as she smiles, eyes set back down on the beast as you raise a brow at her, "Things like that tend to happen around here."

"Could a mage have done this?" Wonders Geralt.

"Theoretically." Her uncertain gaze trails back up to you two, "But generating monsters has been outlawed for centuries."

You scoff, "Oh, outlawed? So definitely not a mage then."

She snickers at your sarcasm before turning around to find something, "There is one way to find out." She walks over to the other table holding some empty potion bottles, removing it from the rack to turn around again and look to Geralt expectantly, "May I?"

He holds his hand out in the direction of the decapitated creature, signaling the go ahead to do as she pleases to satiate her curiosity. You simply stand back and cross your arms over your chest as she takes some tweezers to rip off a small piece of its flesh before putting it into the bottle.

Triss then closes the cork before shutting her eyes and speaking some enchantment in Eldar, once done does she turn around to place the bottle upon the rack, "If there are any signs of mutagenic alchemy, if a mage has been involved, that component will glow." She then cranks a lever, "We'll know by morning." And the specialized mechanism swings the bottles around at a good pace, science is truly amazing.

She then brings her curious attention back to you two standing by the table, "But why would a mage want her?"

Geralt sighs, "I don't know."

You shake your head, "Mages, Nilfgaard, something dark lies ahead of her. I can feel it."

"That's why we're training her." Adds Geralt, "Y/N may be here till the moon crumbles, but I won't be here forever to protect her." Your heart saddens when he says this, Triss notices your frown as you realize your facial expression and turn away to begin walking towards the door. Geralt soon follows and with that so does Triss.

When you three make it into the hallway do you now have her on your right and Geralt on your left. Triss glances over you to look at Geralt, "I'm sorry about Eskel."

"I'm sorry about Sodden." You two keep walking as her steps soon falter and with that does she stop, contentment dampening as the memories of that day come flooding back all at once. You can't help but stop and slowly turn around to face her, Geralt doing the same.

Your crimson gaze locks with her more dreary darkened one, "Those who died, I...I say their names at night when I lay down, so I don't forget." She looks at the ground, lost in though as you swallow before she speaks again, "Atlan Kerk. Vanielle of Brugge. Axel Ruby. Dagobert.."

"Stop." You quickly order, not being able to handle it anymore. How you dread to hear Triss say her name, Yennefer. You hate Nilfgaard for what they did....you're hatred burns like a wildfire smoldering deep within your core.

Eyes shifting to the floor do you slowly turn around and keep onward while Geralt takes your hint to go as well, soon Triss starts walking, "If it's up to me, everyone will know their names." You stop again but nod for Geralt to keep going, this is more between you and Triss then him anyways considering you both fought at Sodden. Both miss Yennefer.

Once he's gone and out of sight does your dismal expression keep fixated onto the shadowed door way from where he left. Triss calmly walks around to find herself by your side, "They can live on in our memories." You attempt to hold a stoic gaze ahead as her concerned fixation lingers upon you, Triss walks around to your front so you have no choice but to look at her, "Perhaps something more." She shakes her head at your stiffness to it all, "You and these Witchers, pretending not to have emotions, pretending not to ever care, but you do. I've seen it, I know it and I know you feel it too."

You don't say a word, it's true you haven't spoken much about Sodden, nor let yourself take it all in as much as she clearly has...maybe it's just in your nature? Triss continues, "All of it, everything that can be felt. Normal love, normal hatred, normal pain, fear, and regret, normal joy, and normal sadness."

You take a step forward, "They were just people fighting for a cause. Just like humans have always done, how they always will. Never learning from their ancestors mistakes....a flaw that runs generations deep."

Her brows furrow at your morality, "You don't mean that. What about the ones we fought with? The mothers, fathers, children? Do they all mean nothing? Does it all mean nothing?"

Blinking slowly do you take a breath, "I have seen war countless times leave it's scar across the land. I have witnessed rivers run red with the blood of soldiers and children alike. But I cannot change that, I pass through the lands of battle and death and let them kill each other for ignorant reasons. But I am glad you are one who truly cares, I've lived too long to feel that anymore."

She reaches to take your hand with hers, "oh Y/N, you are part human too. Don't forget that."

Frowning deeply do you look from your hands to her dispirited face, "I haven't. But I will live on long after you're dead, and I will meet new mages and see new wars that come to be fought by angry men. If you'll remember I was only in Sodden for....for..." You pause a moment to swallow thickly as your eyes dart away, finding hers again, "...for her. And I wasn't enough."

Triss frowns at this, "You were enough, more then enough."

"I wasn't." You solemnly whisper, "So many died. So many innocent people just trying to defend their lands from soldiers who don't give a shit. And while you say those names at night which is well and good, their faces linger as a remembrance only for me. I cannot attend to the dead, but I will make sure their efforts are not in vain. If ever a Nilfgaardian crosses my path again, I will tear their throats out."

She says nothing as you nod, "That is how I will remember them. For each life lost will I kill a soldier, whoever deserves it. They have no respect for anyone other then themselves, not for you, not for the elves, and certainly not for a half-blood like me."

She takes her hand back, dark eyes cast to the floor at your violent words, "You shouldn't let so much darkness into your heart, Y/N. You'll go mad."

"It's the monster in me." You speak softly, trailing your crimson gaze over her conflicted features, "In this world of monsters and men, I can't always help who I am underneath all of what you see now."

She swallows, eyes finding your shimmering ruby red irises, "Don't bottle that in. I feel your anger, I understand your pain."

"You know nothing." You snap heatedly, "Of my pain."

She takes a step back to give you some space, "I'm sorry you feel this way, I wish I could fix it. I wish I could fix all of it."

After a long tension filled moment do you let out a tired sigh, "I wish I didn't care as much as I do...I, I do give a shit about everyone who died in Sodden. All the mages, the men and women and children. I care about the heartbreak and the injustice too much that sometimes I want to kill every single person alive who has ever treated another like a dog."

"Living this long has shown me what humans are capable of, the genocide, the atrocities, the evil of man knows no bounds. And that is why I do not show how I truly feel, for I'd be a far less enticing person lacking all humor and laughter. So Triss, I have my way of caring, and you have yours."

Her brows furrow at this, "I...I had no idea."

"I hide it well." You weakly shrug, "I'm always a little angry about something. Can't let that pull me under, I'd be a horror if I let myself."

She chuckles softly, "More so then you already are." You share a small smile as she gives a little nod, "Well, goodnight Y/N, sleep well. Please."

"I'll certainly try." ——

After a weirdly peaceful nights rest held protectively within Geralt's strong arms, have you awoken from a decently peaceful sleep. Which you haven't had for the longest time in a long time. Maybe Triss' inquisitively kind and thought provoking chat was enough for now, maybe you truly needed someone who understood.

Someone who'd listen, someone you could release your inner conflicts upon without feeling as though you're burdening them like how you would with Geralt. And you'd never dare tell Ciri how much rage truly flows through your veins, she can't ever see you lose yourself, she can't ever know.

And you can't lie to yourself, to speak your full truth, to reflect on your shared time in Sodden. That felt pretty good, no matter how much it still stings like a hornet's spike to your flesh. You're thankfully pretty damn resilient and fantastic at hiding your true feelings, you're even better when it comes to shoving all that shit deep within your mind.

In a teeny tiny crevice for later, or maybe not.

Seated on the table top opposite of where Triss and Vesemir sit across the room eating their breakfast respectfully do you take a sip from your cup before holding up your pretty dagger Geralt gifted you with a few weeks ago. So beautiful and sharp you can't help but admire it in the sunlight cascading in from the glass windows high above.

A couple Witchers are seated on the other benches as they eat their own breakfast, talking amongst themselves, ignoring the mostly vacant hall as they down their food. Your ears prick with the sound of light footsteps walking happily down the hallway while flipping your dagger in your hand. Ciri. Her steps are much lighter then yesterdays like just by her body's movement can you tell she's in a happier mood, this intrigues you.

Finally does she appear through the doorway and past the medallion tree she walks, you take notice of the cleanliness of her grey pants and blue summer sky top. As well at her long wavy blonde mane undoubtedly brushed and washed, a couple little flowers within, holding up the sides of her hair. You smile brightly at her as she makes eye contact with you.

"Morning, my lioness." You nod respectfully as she nods back.

"Morning Y/N." Responds Ciri before setting her sights on the table across from you, she quickly walks towards the table with both Triss and Vesemir eating breakfast.

Triss takes in Ciri's beaming appearance and grins splendidly, "Good morning, Ciri."

"Morning." She brightly answers, approaching the table.

"You look lovely and refreshed." Affirms Triss as Ciri takes a seat on the far end, same side as Vesemir, closest to you though you're still seated on the other table just casually listening in between flipping your dagger.

"Triss, when do you think we can get started?" Asks Ciri, oh, so she's ready for some magic now? You can't say you're very fond of the use of chaos, but she constantly smells of enchantment, she must learn how to control this whatever it is that's brewing within her.

"Today." Replies Triss, "I was hoping you'd help me in the lab. We can get to know each other. I can show you a few incantations. Get a sense for your potential." Ciri smiles radiantly at her as you push yourself from the table top to walk over to them, heading for the end of their long table.

"Maybe you'll be able to turn this Elven dagger into an indestructible metal." Their eyes focus onto you as you stand by the end, holding up your dagger to show all, "No mage nor any magically gifted individual has yet to have done such a feat. Perhaps the young lioness will be the first?"

"Perhaps she will." Adds Triss as Ciri smiles humbly to herself, oh the possibilities that may truly come to fruition, what a mysterious marvel she truly is. The voices of Lambert and Coen are soon heard walking into the room from the opposite end of the medallion tree from some side entrance. Ciri quickly gets up from her seat to greet them as they approach.

"Morning." She says in a friendly tone, "Did you sleep well?"

The two take in the young girls gleefulness, beginning to chuckle to themselves while approaching her, Coen pretends to give a little bow, "Oh, good morning, Your Highness." Some of the other Witchers laugh along as Ciri's confidence wavers while they stop and take in her much more cleaner and more girlish appearance then they're used to.

"Please tell me you lost a bet." Jests Lambert as he raises a brow, "Is that a flower in your hair, girl?" They snicker a little more until Lambert realizes something, his smile falters a little, "Oh, she's not joking." He snickers while playfully smacking Coen's arm, "You never got my rags that clean."

Coen nudges Lambert, "Yeah, like you ever wash."

"I don't need to."

Ciri turns around before he can even finish his sentence, disheartened by their words while they snicker amongst themselves before walking past Vesemir, "Now that's funny." Points Lambert.

Ciri, with spirits deeply dampened saunters quickly past Triss' table and you who tries to walk out and stop her yet she keeps going, not even giving you a glance. "Ciri." You call after as she walks past Geralt coming out of the entrance way, the laughter of the boys in your ears behind you. And the anger rises. Geralt's golden eyes lock with yours while the two idiots walk over to the hearth where breakfast is.

Your jaw clenches as you listen to them, Coen first, "Thought it suited her, actually."

Lambert snorts, "Sure, if she's going to a ball."

Geralt can see the irritation on your face as he turns towards his brothers getting soup, "What happened?" He asks, looking between the two of them for a viable answer.

Lambert shrugs, "Oh, nothing. She just got her royal knickers in a twist."

Eyes of glowing scarlet snap up to find them, "You should be ashamed of yourselves." You retort sharply as they look over at you a bit suprised, Geralt and Triss included, knowing your wrath knows no bounds.

"It's just a bit of fun." Suggests Coen as they grin like it all means nothing.

"For who?" You challenge, their smiles falter as you take a threatening step closer though the hearth is between you and them, your expression is still ever infuriated, "Is it fun for a wolf to beat on the smaller member of the pack, just because he likes to feel superior?"

They look to one another, "Well.."

"Shut the fuck up." You snap and they do,  "So, as a true royal with her knickers in a bunch, I'm now speaking to you two dogs." They say not a word as you take another step closer, "I have half a mind to throw you both across the room for your ignorance and shameful foolishness against one of our own. But I am too a princess after all, and wouldn't it be just out of place for me to risk chipping a nail? Getting a little dirt on me?"

You gift them a devious smirk, "You say you're mutants huh? Claiming that's why you don't understand what people feel. But the truth is, you're choosing to be imbecilic arseholes, aren't you?" You tilt your head at them questioningly, "Make a little girl sad, so very...very...very manly that must feel."  

You look absolutely furious with them which rightfully scares both Coen and Lambert a lot more then they thought it would, they've never seen you defend anyone so blatantly, or look so much like your kin. You truly do care for her so much; you shake your head at them, scowling and walking off without another word before you choose to do something you'll regret. Heading off into the same direction that Ciri left.

"Y/N." Says Geralt as you pass him. You ignore and keep walking. ——

Luckily her dampened mood was short lived once you and Triss got her into the giant laboratory to see how things are going with that special potion Triss has swirling around in the metal contraption. You sit on the table behind them with the decapitated monster head as they observe the spinning device, your anger simmered down now.

"How long did it take to learn to control your powers?" Asks Ciri as she watches the glass bottles turn in a never ending circle.

"A long time. Just like it will for you." Geralt then walks through the doorway with something wrapped up in his right hand, "It's not ready yet." She says.

"I can wait." He stops to look at the spinning contraption before turning to Ciri, holding up the wrapped bread you can smell through the cloth, "They felt bad you didn't finish your breakfast.....and not just because Y/N flashed her fangs at them." Ciri slowly takes the wrapped bread from Geralt.

He hums, walking around the table you're seated on to lean against the stone table by a large grey pillar. Ciri shares a smile with Triss before turning around to face you, you wave her off like your threats were nothing at all. She then takes out the bread and gifts herself a bite, eyes set to Geralt, "You know, my grandmother fought battles and wore dresses. I can do both."

He looks fondly at her, "I know."

"And if you're really skilled you can fight while wearing a dress." You quip as Ciri chuckles, Geralt humming in amusement from behind you.

"Why does this give me a feeling that you have?" Asks Ciri.

You casually shrug, "More then once. And it's not as easy at one might think, but it does look pretty cool." Ciri grins as you flash her a wink.

"It's ready." Announces Triss as she brings the bottle to the table you swiftly slid off of to give her space, she pops the cork and gently dumps out a charcoal blackness onto a silver plate. Letting out an almost disappointed sigh, "No glow."

"So no evidence of mutagenic alchemy." Says Geralt as he observes the ashen material.

"But there is something strange." She runs a thin small knife over the dark powder.

"Stellacite." Reveals Geralt as he turns around to look at something, "Like from a monolith."

"I've never seen that before."

He brings back a cylindrical glass bottle holding a piece of leshy root in some type of preserving liquid, "This was taken from the leshy that turned Eskel." He opens it up, taking out the small root chunk before bringing a knife to the bark. He cuts and the same type of charcoal powderiness crumbles from the bark, same material as whats made out of the monolith, stellacite. Smelling rightly strange just like the piece of that creatures flesh.

"More stellacite." Speaks Triss, "How did two different monsters wind up with the same dust on them?"

"They came from the same place."

Her brows furrow as she looks to him, "A monolith? It doesn't make sense."

Standing opposite of a very silent Ciri do you look to her as the others do as well, she feels your curious eyes altogether and gingerly looks up. You raise a brow, knowing she's hiding something by the way that her heartbeat picks up with nervousness, "Tell us what you know about it." How you just tend to know when someone is hiding something is beyond her, sometimes a bit of an annoyance.

Ciri pauses a moment, clearly a tinge uncomfortable, "When...when Nilfgaard attacked Cintra, just outside the city walls, I...I saw a monolith topple."

"How?"

Ciri's eyes draw down to the black powder as she touches it, her heartbeat then swiftly picks up unnaturally moments before she grows faint and begins to weaken and stumble backwards. She's in your arms within seconds as a few loose papers fly from where you ran to catch her happening all in the blink of an eye.

When her green-blue irises open again is she laying in a bed now, breathing heavily as she gasps awake. "Cirilla." Worries Geralt as you all look to her now.

"Ciri. Hey." Calmly says Triss as Ciri moves to sit up, still slightly disoriented.

"I'm fine." She whispers, blinking hard, "I'm fine." Head turning down as she rubs a hand against her forehead, appearing rather distraught within herself.

You take a step by Geralt to crouch down on her right, "You are brave as a true lioness my dear Cirilla. But let us help. Let us understand."

She slowly removes her hand to glance at you, less anxious this time, "Alright." She sighs heavily, gaze set to the far edge of her bed as she gains her courage, "When the Black Knight captured me....I...I was scared. I screamed. And that's when the monolith cracked and fell." She pauses, looking as though she could cry, finally does she focus on you before whispering, "I toppled it."

"How could that be?" Wonders Triss as she looks from Ciri to you then to Geralt.

You purse your lips together, crimson irises leaving Cir to focus onto her, "I don't know. Magic perhaps?"

Geralt hums, "We need to see it for ourselves." Referring to yourself and him.

Ciri swallows hard, "I really didn't mean to do it, Y/N. And if these monsters are my fault..."

"It's all right." You rest a hand on her shoulder, expression sincere and true, "We'll fix it."

"But how?"

You give her a small smile, "We'll figure it out and deal with it, Cirilla. It's what we do for the ones we care about." She lets out a small sigh like you've just taken a heavy weight off of her back for the first time in a while, this news is undoubtedly good to hear, especially when it comes from you.

——

Sitting on the edge of your bed with your legs crossed like a pretzel do you flip your dagger in hand as Geralt changes his clothes. You set your focus to the beautiful elven dagger as it shimmers in the candlelight, colors of gold with rainbow flashing when you catch the sides just right.

"Well don't you look all ready and willing for another long trek across the Continent." You jest as he side eyes you, "Cintra? Really, why must it be Cintra?"

You trail your eyes over his strong body, the naked muscles of his torso and arms and toned lower stomach. His shirt falls upon his shoulders and your lustful thoughts are banished elsewhere. "Would you prefer Nilfgaard?" He says teasingly.

"Be easier to slit their throats."

Geralt hums in reply as he stands tall to tuck his shirt in before pausing a moment once he's done, walking over to you now. The dagger is snatched from out of your grasp in a second, "Hey!" You protest as he takes a step back, letting you jump to your feet. "Give it here you wolf."

Geralt smirks as you approach him, his hand with the dagger goes out for you to take. When you reach for it has he grabbed your wrist and pulled you in for a heated embrace. Lips locking and moving sweetly together as you melt into his comforting touch before he slowly parts from you, dagger now in your hand.

"Just us. It'll be like old times."

Snorting, you roll your eyes before snatching his dark cloak from off of a table, "Like old times? Should we stop and take a side quest along the way then? Take some poor farmers coin who's got a warg in their orchard."

He raises a brow, "Depends how much he's got?"

Snickering softly do you begin to walk past him, "Come on. Let's sharpen your sword in case we meet a ghoul or something along the way. Can't have any undead taking out a chunk of you like last time, we might not have your mysterious mother mage to randomly show up and amend all wounds."

He follows you out the door, "I still don't know how or why that happened. Y/N, I could have been hallucinating for all we know."

"No, you definitely weren't. I saw her there myself, could smell her too. She smelled like roses and copper and then just like that was she gone like the mist." You make a flowing motion with your hand, "I blinked Geralt, I blinked and she was gone. Now I've been a witness to some strange phenomena in my lifetime, but that was admittedly weird. I'm grateful it happened though."

"Me too."

You give him a soft smile, "Either you would have died or I would have turned you."

"Turned me?" He raises his brow, though a humored expression keeps to his face, "You said you'd never do that, at least I thought you did."

"Well." You sigh, "I can't tolerate anyone else. I'd have to, and I bet you'd be a handsome vampire. Oh I know you would."

"It'd feel weird. It'd be weird."

"Yes. But you'd be mine forever and hey, then we'd finally be able to visit my Queen Mother in my homeland. Meet all the vampires of the north, the ladies and some of the men would be so jealous."

"I have a feeling I'd never be allowed back in Kaer Morhen ever again."

You wave him off, "What? No, you'd be an ever better monster slayer then you already are. The power you'd have, unbeatable."

Geralt gives you an almost concerned glance, "I sense you've thought about this."

"I have." You casually shrug, "Usually I think of it when you're close to death, which is not often. But often enough that I have the time."

"Hmm." He passes an opened doorway before looking at you again, "Would you turn me, in all honesty?"

You pause for a long moment, eyes set to the hallway path ahead before finally answering, "I wouldn't no matter how tempted. Not against you're wishes, I couldn't make myself do that to you, to a Witcher. It would hurt immensely of course, but I'd be there to give you a proper rest as what should be intended."

The two of you walk in silence for a couple paces down the hallway until Geralt brushes his hand against yours, "I love you." He whispers in the glow of the torchlight that you two pass by.

The corners of your lips curl into a small grin as you keep your sights set ahead of you, "Love you too." Geralt beams warmly though you don't turn to see this, but you know, you can feel it in the way that his heartbeat picks up ever so slightly, sense it on his skin like a sweet scent of your favorite flowers. He is undoubtedly yours as you are his.

Now in the old Witcher's armory does your fingers lightly glide over the leather armor of a long passed Witcher as Geralt sharpens his sword. Shling. Shling Shling. It sounds loudly in your sensitive ears as he minds his weapon, preparing it for who knows what that may be unfortunate enough to cross his blade. The blooded sack of that creatures half cut open head laying on the floor right next to him.

You sniff the dusty air, "Blood of man and monster lingers within the fibers of this leather."

He gives you a quick glance, "Can't imagine what else."

You throw him a look, "Alright you sassy man, maybe I'll drop a headless deer on you in your sleep."

"Maybe you refrain from doing that."

"And do what then?" You look over and immediately lock eyes with him, he raises a knowing brow while you snicker, "Hmm, I can't even read minds and that damn look is enough to tell me everything swimming about in your head right now."

"And what is swimming in my head?" He teasingly challenges.

"I shall refrain or lest Triss will hear us." Geralt's brow raises when suddenly the swiftly approaching footsteps of Triss can be heard getting closer to the opened doorway. You nod in the direction in which she will soon follow, "As I said."

He snorts in amusement before attending back to his sword sharpening while you walk over to another rack of lances when Triss finally walks into the room, locating Geralt easily enough, "Coen replenished your elixers." She hands him the small bottles of dark liquid.

"Thank you." He says as she stands back, looking a tinge out of place. She takes a couple steps over to where you stand as Geralt keeps at his sword, Triss appears uncertain, fiddling with her fingers as she looks to you, "About what I said last night."

"It's fine."

She swallows, "It's not, I upset you and I didn't mean to do that it's just...your pain, it felt like I wasn't alone. Like I had someone who cares as I do, someone who understands what happened at Sodden like no one else. Understands what that felt like, all of it."

"Yes. In spite of it all."

"Y/N, after Sodden, most of us were cured after battle." Her hand slowly reaches up to touch her neck, "You can hardly see the marks, but.."

"Some wounds cannot be healed." You whisper as she looks dismally into the far off wall, "I understand that more then you know." Her dark eyes are on you as you subconsciously touch the scarred flesh of your hand that held Geralt's silver sword many moons ago, "I hope that in your search to feel again....you feel your value where others have not."

"To Ciri?" She asks.

"To me." You give her a small grin, "You are important to me Triss, not just Geralt and Ciri respectively. You always will be, know this and don't think I do not care. I do, I always do. Even though I admittedly don't show it often enough." Triss' small little smile grows at your words. She's known you a long long time and has never fully come to realize your care for her until now.

Apparently your icy heart does melt in the sunlight of others after all.

"You're going to Cintra?" Asks Vesemir as he finds himself into the armory, walking over to Geralt, "You said you'd never go back there. Twice." He turns his head over to you, "Both of you."

Geralt sighs, "No Witcher yet has died of old age lying in bed dictating his will, Vesemir. I have a girl to protect. I can't just stay here." He glances at you, "Neither of us can."

Triss takes a step away from you to look at Vesemir, "I have a friend who studies monoliths." She looks to Geralt with a raised brow, "I could portal you to him."

Geralt hums at this news, "Portals are no fun."

Walking around the rack of lances do you nudge him by the shoulder, "Portals are a little fun." He gives you a telling look, you simply smile a fangy grin in return.

"Alright then you two." Says Vesemir with a nod, "Good luck, see you then." He ends with before turning around and walking out the way he came as nothing he'd say was ever going to change your minds.

You then turn to Triss, "Portal?"

She smiles, "Of course." Triss then turns to the opened space in front of you all before closing her eyes with a look of deep concentration before opening her palms wide and with that does a circular distortion appear before you. It reeks of magic with its awful sweetly smell that you're not keen on.

You pick up the bloody bag of that monster head, eyes set to Geralt, the both of you giving each other a reassuring look before he takes your hand, leading you through the portal as you close your eyes and suck in a breath as the atmosphere changes abruptly. You may like portal traveling when it's convenient, but in all honesty would you rather have walked the far distance instead of this shit.

When you release your breath does your scarlet eyes open to the darkly lit room of some huge royal library, a giant stained glass window on your far right that lets in a dull grey-blue light from the cloudy sky outside. Geralt's hand slips from yours as you take a breath to calm your nerves, instantly the scent of a man wafts into your nostrils.

Your eyes are on him in a second as he hasn't noticed you yet until he turns, startled at the two mysterious intruders does he hold out a protective ward, "Stay back!" He shouts, eyes flickering from Geralt who looks ready to heave any second then over to you appearing rather unaffected compared to your white haired counterpart.

Scarlet irises lock onto his enchanted blue eyes, his expression grows with realization as he begins to come to a full understanding as to who you are. You gift him a small smile and a wiggle of your brow as he studies your face and attire, and dagger on your hip.

His brows furrow deeply, "Y/N?"

-

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[live-the-fangirl-life]

A Starlit Swim

Aelin Galathynius x Rowan Whitethorn - Skinny Dipping Oneshot

Aelin shows Rowan to a lovely, secluded spot.

Written for Rowaelin Month 2021. Day 14: Skinny Dipping

Masterlist | Read on Ao3 | Rowaelin Month Masterlist

Warnings: Language, Lightest NSFW

1547 words

*******

“Shh!” Aelin hissed through a giggle, too loudly to be an actual reprimand.

Rowan snorted and kept a firm grip on his girlfriend’s hand as she pulled him through the woods towards what she insisted was a nice secluded spot.

“Aelin,” he shot his free hand out to steady her waist as she stumbled over a fallen branch, before righting herself and sending a quick smile over her shoulder. “Aelin, I didn’t say anything. That was all you.”

She either didn’t hear him or chose to ignore his point as she kept leading him down a path that only she was aware of.

The soccer team at Terrasen University had just won the championships, and as a Co-Captain, Rowan was very much to thank for that. He and the team set up a bonfire down by one of the lakes to celebrate. But what originally started as the team, their significant others, and friends, soon devolved into a full-on rager the moment some idiot posted a video on Instagram. Now, the entire lake and woods a couple of miles outside campus were crawling with excited, drunk college kids who were all celebrating the victory.

Rowan had been happy standing by the large fire with Aelin leaning into him, her back pressed to his chest with his arms looped her waist and his chin resting on her head. Lorcan and Elide were next to them, standing similarly, although Elide had to stand on one of the logs in order for Lorcan’s chin to reach her hair. Fenrys danced around handing out more drinks to everybody, while Lysandra and Aedion were somewhere in the group of people dancing by the speakers. Rowan had spotted more of his teammates around and recognized a couple of faces of people from classes in the hordes of partygoers, but he was perfectly content being with his small group of friends by the fire.

Until Aelin tugged his arm, urging him to lower his head so she could whisper into his ear. She’d said she knew of a hidden spot a little further into the woods, and that they should sneak off while everyone else was distracted. He almost argued, saying he was fine right where they were, but then she turned in his arms and kissed him in a way that had every coherent thought flying out of his head. He could only grin and nod as she pulled away satisfied and grabbed his hand.

So, now, Rowan was following Aelin as she maneuvered through the trees to this supposedly special spot.

They’d walked far enough that Rowan could no longer hear the music or voices from the party.

“Aelin, where are we going?” He hissed as he nearly tripped over another tree branch.

Aelin only giggled and shushed him again. A moment later she told him, in a horrifically bad haunting accent, “I’m luring you into the woods to kill you. No one will find your body.” Her laughter decimated the fake threat.

Rolling his eyes, Rowan snickered, “Nah, you like me too much to kill me.”

She looked back, almost tripping again as she winked, “I guess.” He caught her lip twitch as she unsuccessfully fought a smile.

“You guess?” he grumbled.

Aelin stopped abruptly and Rowan nearly sent them crashing to the ground before he stopped moving. She turned to face him and the next thing he knew, she was kissing the living daylights out of him. Rowan reacted instantly, the slight haze from a couple beers making him feel even lighter. Aelin pulled away before they got too carried away and ended up rolling in the leaves and dirt.

“Okay, maybe I do like you too much to kill you.”

Rowan laughed and Aelin grinned before spinning around and resuming her mission of pulling him through the woods to wherever she was imagining.

“Seriously, Fireheart,” he asked again as the trees slowly thinned out around them. “Where are we going?”

Instead of answering, Aelin’s giggling filled the air again.

Rowan chuckled under his breath; this was three-drink Aelin escorting him, then. It hadn’t taken Rowan long to notice Aelin’s varying drunk personalities. One-drink Aelin was affectionately named The Megaphone, the buzz of alcohol making her yell and shout. Two-drink Aelin, The Instigator, believed her purpose in life was encourage their friends to act on their ridiculous, sometimes insane, plans. Three-drink Aelin, this Aelin, was The Giggler because for whatever reason she found everything absolutely hilarious.

Rowan was also familiar with four-drink Aelin: The Horndog, who wouldn’t be dissuaded by a party full of people when she’d straddle his lap and practically jump him right there on the spot. Or, five-drink Aelin: The Francophone who gave up all use of their language and spoke solely in French. He wasn’t sure what six-drink Aelin was like—none of their friends were—but once, Rowan had witnessed seven-drink Aelin, forever deemed The Queen, because she’d insisted everyone call her Your Majesty and Queen Galathynius (Lorcan had quickly dubbed her Fire Breathing Bitch Queen much to her utter delight) and, just Rowan: Milady.

Aelin giggled again as she swayed trying to duck beneath a branch and Rowan gripped her hand tighter as he reached above her to push the leaves aside. It took him a second to take in what he was looking at. Aelin had led him to the edge of a small lake hidden within the forest. The sky was visible through the small openings between branches that stretched across the width of the lake, allowing Rowan to see the stars that were normally invisible by the lights of the city.

“How…” he trailed off, facing Aelin again to see her watching him with a rare, tentative expression.

“What do you think?” She asked hopefully.

Rowan stepped closer to her, pulling her into his arms. “Its beautiful, Fireheart. How did you ever find this place?”

She smirked and giggled again. “Magic.”

He raised a brow, amused, and waited.

Aelin sighed dramatically and tipped her head back, “Fine, Buzzard, if you want the boring answer it’s that I was out on a run one day and got distracted and lost and accidentally stumbled onto this place. It doesn’t look like anyone else comes here. Not that I’ve noticed, anyway.”

Rowan’s grip tightened around her waist, pulling her against him and grinning at her breathless gasp. Leaning down so his nose brushed her ear, he asked, “No one?”

She pulled back and flashed him a wicked grin. “Nope. You know what that means right?”

When all Rowan did was return her grin, she slipped out of his arms and stepped closer to the edge of the water. Aelin held his gaze, winking again, and she slowly lifted her shirt and tossed it aside.

Rowan crossed his arms, leaning against a nearby tree and smirked, content to watch the show his girlfriend was giving him. His gaze never left hers as she reached down to unbutton her jeans before rolling those down and throwing them into the pile with her shirt.

When she was standing there in just her underwear and bra she paused, raising a brow at Rowan.

“Well are you going to join me, Buzzard? Or are you just going to watch?” Her smirk told him there was only one right answer.

He slowly stalked towards her, his eyes darkening as she bit her lip while she watched him. When they were almost chest to chest, he gripped the back of his collar and pulled his shirt over his head, smirking at the way Aelin eyes roamed across his bare chest.

Once his pants were off, he grabbed her hand and made to lead her towards the water. Aelin followed without hesitation, only stopping once her feet hit the water.

“What?” Rowan asked, wading into the pleasantly warm lake and raising an eyebrow at his girlfriend still standing on the bank. “I thought you wanted to swim.”

She smirked, her eyes glinting in the reflected starlight. “Not exactly.”

Before he could ask what she meant, Aelin’s hand flew behind her to unclasp her bra, quickly pulling it off before slipping her underwear down her and throwing them into their growing pile of clothes.

Rowan practically growled as Aelin strutted into the water without a shred of clothing. Before she even reached him, Aelin watched as Rowan tossed his sopping wet briefs across the water and heard them land with a slap on the dry rocks.

When she got close enough, Rowan’s hand wrapped around her wrist and then her waist to pull her body flush with his. Aelin wove her wet fingers through his hair and wrapped her legs around his waist as their lips came together in a fierce kiss.

After a few minutes they pulled away, breathing heavily, and savoring the feeling of swollen lips and the other’s arms wrapped around them.

“Have you ever been skinny dipping before?” Aelin asked coyly, looking at Rowan through her eyelashes.

He ran a broad hand down her back, “Can’t say I have.”

She grinned, already having known his answer. “Then allow me to show you how fun it can be.”

By the time Aelin and Rowan meandered out of the woods, the hazy light of morning was just peeking through the trees.

*****

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[rainydaydream-gal18]

Cal Kestis x Reader (Continued 4) The Proposal

OG Request: can i request that you write some cal kestis since you haven't written him in so long? how about one where the whole mantis crew helps him propose to the reader? it can even be like a part 4 to the "training" series lol

Author’s Note:  I am SO sorry at how long this took me to post.  I got hit with writer’s block so bad, and this week, I ended up getting sick. It’s been tough to find time and energy to write, but again, I am sorry at how long it was.  I do hope you enjoy it!!!

   "I've never seen you like this," Greez commented, lifting a brow skeptically.  He planted his hands on his hips as he watched Cal make a cup of caf.  It was a task the young jedi had done many times without fail since he was the definition of balance, but somehow, he had managed to spill his cup on the counter.

   Cal lifted his brows only slightly as he tried to act casual.  “What do you mean?”

   “What’s got you so worked up?” Greez asked.  “You seem off...Not quite sure what it is…”

   Years of training had given Cal Kestis the ability to hide.  He’d hidden from the Empire for so long on Bracca.  He had concealed his identity without issue until that fateful day when he rescued his coworker and friend- an event that began quite the adventure.  Still, even so, he hadn’t been able to conceal his nervousness from the Mantis pilot.  His gaze flickered to Cere, who was quietly sipping her own cup of caf from the dining booth.

   Her amusement at the interaction was palpable.  Cal could see the slightest smile on her lips which she hid behind her mug as she took another sip, eyes trained to the table in front of her.

   What would she say if she knew the truth?  Would she be so amused?  As worried as Cal was that his mentor would disapprove of his choice, he was running out of time.  This wasn’t something he could conceal. 

   “The truth is…” he paused, running a hand through his orange hair.

   “What?”  Greez prompted.  “What is it?”

   “I’m…”

   Cere lowered her cup, the soft clink of the material against the table catching Cal’s attention.  “You’re going to propose to _________.”

   Cal gazed at her, lips parting in surprise.

   “Very perceptive of you, Greez,” she continued, eyes flicking to the pilot.  “To have caught that something was going on with our Cal.  However-” she met Cal’s gaze coolly “-the nervous excitement was coming off him in waves.”

   Cal exhaled, shoulders lowering as he braced himself for some sort of sagely warning about the path he was choosing, but Cere merely smiled.

   Greez's jaw dropped straight to the floor. "You...you what?"  He chuckled quietly at first before bursting into joyful laughter as he approached Cal.  “Congratulations, kid!”

   He smiled appreciatively at the support, but shook his head.  “She hasn’t said ‘yes’ yet.”

   Greez shifted his stance, resting a hand on his hip.  "What, you think she'll say 'no'?"

   “Yes, I mean...no...We’ve talked about it, but I just don't know how to do it.”

   Cere surprised him further by rising from the booth.  “Need some help?”

   He tilted his head.  “You’d do that?  But I thought…”

   “The order is gone, Cal,” she replied.  “As members of this crew, we’ve already done some things the Council would have disapproved of.  I think after all these years of sorrow, a little joy is something we need.”

   Cal nodded.  “Thank you.”

   “So wait,” Greez shook his head.  “You want our advice?  On how to propose?  A former monk and a lonely pilot...what could go wrong?”

- - - -

   “Hey there, uh, kid.”

   You smiled, dabbing at a few beads of sweat that glistened on your forehead.  “Hey, Greez.  How’s it going?”  You gave your arms a little stretch, holding back the groan that threatened to spill from your lips at the dull ache.  Cal had assigned you to an arduous training session all afternoon.  It was unexpected, but you were up to the challenge.  Upon returning to the Mantis, you found no sign of your boyfriend, or Cere for that matter.  

   There was only Greez, who averted his gaze nervously.  You got the distinct feeling that he was hiding something.  Something big.

   “Everything alright?��� you asked, testing the waters.

   “Alright?  Uh, yeah.  Yeah.  Everything’s alright.  Why wouldn’t it be?  Is everything alright with you?”

   You fought a smile as he fumbled his way through the somewhat defensive response.  “Yeah, I’m done with training for the day.  I’m just looking for Cal, actually.  Have you seen him?”

   “Yes, I mean, no...I may have seen him…  He went somewhere.”

   “He did?  Did he say where?”

   Greez fell silent then, and you raised your brows incredulously at him.  The stubborn pilot wasn’t going to talk.  Your suspicion grew, especially when his nerves seemed to spike even more.  With a shrug, you headed back toward your bunk.  Cere wasn’t anywhere to be found either.

   What if there was a new development with the jedi order?  Even though the holocron containing the location of force-sensitives across the galaxy had been taken care of, the Mantis crew had not lost hope that someday the jedi would return.  Perhaps something had come up.  Still, you weren’t sure why that would mean that both he and Cere would need to discuss it elsewhere.  It wasn’t like Greez couldn’t be trusted.  Or you.

   As you changed out of your training clothes, your hand brushed over the hilt of your lightsaber.  You gripped the handle and removed it from your belt before doing so with the second saber you had constructed some time ago.  The weight in your hands no longer felt foreign and unsettling.  The sabers had become part of you.  They were not just weapons; they were tools.   They were tools to defend those you loved and to usher in peace when the time was right.

   You set them down and continued changing into your gear.

   For years, you’d heard stories of the jedi old.  You’d never imagined becoming one.  You’d never imagined to have a mentor as young and handsome as Cal.  And you certainly never imagined falling in love the way you did.

   The thought was bittersweet.  You mourned for Cal and all that he had lost, but you were so glad to have found him.  He was glad to have found you too.  You could feel it every single day.

   A knock on the door to your quarters pulled you from thought.  “Yes?”

   “Hey,” Greez said, poking his head in.  “He’s waiting for you.”

   “He’s...waiting for me?”  You watched as he disappeared from the doorway before shaking your head.  “This day just gets weirder.”

- - - -

   Greez had followed you off the ship and stayed close behind as you picked up on Cal’s trail.  He insisted that he was not supposed to give you any hints- only that you were supposed to reach out with your feelings and find Cal on your own.

   “Is this some sort of training exercise?” you wondered aloud.  “Because I already finished training for the day.”

   “Sorry, kid,” Greez shrugged.  “It’s not for me to say.”

   “But of course.”  You smirked.  “It’s never that simple.”  You let your eyes slide shut as you reached out with your other senses.  You took a deep breath, inhaling the lovely scents of the forest- leafy greens and even something sweet, like blossoms.  There was a damp feel to the soil beneath your shoes.  More clearly than the other things you felt, you sensed the familiar presence of Cal.  He was nearby.

   As soon as you began walking in that direction, Greez uttered a “woah.”

   You paused, glancing at him over your shoulder.  “What?”

   “You jedi never cease to fascinate me,” he said.  “You know where he is without even a hint.”

   “It’s automatic at this point.”

   “So, you...you two really love each other, huh?” he ventured.

   You smiled and uttered a quiet, “yeah.”   

   The two of you walked through the forest.  A familiar tingle in your feelings let you know that someone was just ahead.  It was Cere.  You’d recognize that presence anywhere after traveling with her for so long.  She sat in the center of a small clearing, legs crossed and eyes shut.

   “This is a training exercise, isn’t it?” you whispered under your breath at the sight.

   Cere’s eyes opened, and her lips turned up in a smirk.  “Cal’s waiting for you.”

   “So I hear.”  You wanted to shake your head in amusement, but if it was indeed a surprise training session, Cere was acting as a mentor, so you instead gave her a nod of respect.  “Is there anything...Is there...What is my task?”

   “That is something you will have to find out yourself.  I wish you luck.”  And with that, Cere rose from her seated position and gave you a nod before stepping aside.  Greez stole a look and shrugged, immediately going to join her.  

   All the while a strange anticipation was growing in you.  Part of it was curiosity on you part for this next step in your training, and part of it you chalked up to be Cal’s emotions mingling with yours.  Even though you had no idea what was going on and why, something about the situation made you feel exhilarated.  Like something amazing was about to happen.

   You continued on your way, shooting your teammates one last curious look before vanishing farther into the forest.  The tingling feeling changed.  It was soon the distinct feeling that you got whenever Cal was nearby.   You knew it before you saw him that he sensed your approach, but when you finally stepped into the clearing where he was waiting, you weren’t expecting the sudden drop of his heart.  It was so sudden that you halted for a moment, thrown off by the swift shift in emotion.  Nervousness.  What did he have to be nervous about?  You were the one being tested!

   “Cal?” you ventured.

   “___________,” he breathed out.  It was like he struggled to breathe for a moment.   You’d never seen him this way before.

   “Is everything alright?” you asked, voice ticked up with concern.

   “Ah, yeah,”  He nodded, glancing down for a moment.  “____________, I need to ask you something.”

   As soon as he said that, your own heart dropped.  It was nervousness at what you suspected was coming next, but it was a good nervousness.  You immediately shifted, hands going over your heart as Cal walked over to you.  There was a small part of you screaming to not give into the hope, just in case it wasn’t what you thought.  Before the seeds of doubt could take root, Cal got down on one knee in front of you.

   Bright afternoon sunlight poured in through the treetops, dancing along his skin with each gust of wind that shook the branches above.  His eyes were fixed on you, glinting with a light you’d seen in him many times when he looked at you.  It was love.  Adoration.

   “_____________,” he said, gently twining his fingers with those of your left hand.  “I love you.  As a jedi, I never thought I’d be able to go down this path….but here I am, and I’m so glad that I can.  You’re the only one I’d want to go with.”

   “Cal….”  you murmured.

   “Will you marry me?”

   Even though you’d realized the words were coming, they still hit hard.  Your vision blurred with tears as the emotions welled up within you.  “Yes, I will.  I love you, Cal.”  And you pulled your hand from his only to wrap both your arms around his neck and plant a loving kiss to his lips.

   Cal kissed you back passionately, leaving you with one last peck before he pulled away to take your hand again.  His eyes darted up to meet yours before they focused on your finger as he slipped a ring on.  Your tears hadn’t stopped.

   “Cal, I’m so happy.”  Then, a chuckle escaped your lips as you wiped your eyes.  “I was wondering what all this was about.  I thought it was a training exercise.”

   “That was the idea,” he said with the shake of his head.  “We thought it’d be more of a surprise that way.”

   “‘We’?”

   “Cere and Greez helped me out.  I knew I wanted to put this ring on your finger, but I wasn’t quite sure how.”

   “Thank you,” you called over your shoulder, and you were amused when Cere and Greez emerged from the brush.  “Really, this was a lovely surprise.”

   “I’m glad you thought so,” Greez said, clasping his hands together.  He glanced between the two of you curiously.  “So, when’s the wedding?”

[hxwks-gf]

» 𝖘𝖆𝖑𝖙 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖒𝖎𝖉𝖓𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙

𝖑𝖊𝖛𝖎 𝖆𝖈𝖐𝖊𝖗𝖒𝖆𝖓 𝖝 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗

𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚎𝚟𝚒 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚞𝚙 𝚒𝚗 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚒𝚜. 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚛𝚞𝚑 𝚛𝚘𝚑, 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚟𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜...

𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊: 𝚜𝚖𝚞𝚝, 𝚏𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘: 𝚜𝚖𝚞𝚝, 𝚜𝚎𝚖𝚒-𝚙𝚞𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚌 𝚜𝚎𝚡, 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚝 𝚜𝚎𝚡, 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐

𝖆/𝖓: 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚞𝚕𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗

The crescent moon that hung in the sky cast the darkened forest in hues of silvery shadow, silently watching over the feeble cluster of tents that were nestled in a small clearing within the trees. Her glow barely illuminated the scattered scouts that were awake and keeping watch, their fingers resting on the hilts of their swords while they listened to the wind. 

There had been no activity for hours. In the morning they would pack up the wagons and return to headquarters, all of their dead in tow. The journey back could’ve been possible during the night if they hadn’t taken such a heavy hit in the field, so they opted for settling in and waiting until the first morning light when they had enough energy to protect themselves. 

The fires were kept low as not to draw any unwanted attention to their makeshift camp, and from your perch up high in a tree, you silently listened to the sound of the sleeping squad snoring away in their tents. A few other scouts were strategically placed along the outskirts of the camp, also keeping watch alongside you. You lifted your face to the moon’s light and inhaled the cool, midnight breeze, smelling nothing threatening on it. 

The whirring sound of ODM gear caught your attention. Mikasa appeared on the thick branch beside you, kneeling in a crouch. 

“Your watch is up,” she said quietly, pushing her scarf down from her chin. “Get some rest.” 

You nodded and stood up, wincing at your sore muscles. She took your place and trained her eyes on the horizon, allowing you to silently launch yourself from the tree and land gracefully on the forest floor, along with the rest of the scouts who were retiring from the first watch. You made your way over to your sleeping horse to dig around in the saddlebags for something to eat. 

As you searched, your eyes briefly glanced up and made contact with your squad leader from across the clearing, the firelight dancing across his sharp features and those grey eyes that were watching you intently. Your hands stilled in your bag as you were scrutinized under his gaze. 

He jerked his head in the direction of the darkened trees behind him, away from prying eyes and nosy scouts. You swallowed nervously and averted your gaze, staring into the meager contents of your saddlebag instead. A strange feeling of giddiness bubbled in your stomach as you closed the flap and gave your sleeping horse an affectionate pat on the rump, keeping your footsteps quiet as you started towards the treeline to follow the silent order. 

“Psst,” a hushed voice came from your left. 

You came to a stop and glanced over, digging your fingernails into your palms. Armin was sticking his head out from his tent, his exhausted blue eyes doing their best to focus on you. 

“What?” you whispered back, knowing a certain someone wouldn’t wait around forever. 

“Are you coming back from watch?” he asked, rubbing his eyes. 

“Yes,” you replied, risking a nervous glance toward the trees. “Why?” 

“Just wondering,” he said through a yawn, and started to slink back into his tent. “Get some sleep, Y/N.” 

“I will,” you lied, and resumed your path towards the edge of the camp and slipped into the darkness. God, where had he disappeared to? You knew he wasn’t much for waiting around, but if he had left already-- 

Strong hands grabbed you by the waist and suddenly you were spinning around and falling against his muscled chest. Before you could say anything, Levi was crushing his lips to yours in desperation, as if he had been starved of you for months. Which was definitely not true. 

You pushed the thought away and kissed him back, your hands sliding up and wrapping around his neck, feeling the soft hair of his undercut beneath your fingers. God, you had missed this. His lips tasted of salt and smoke and midnight air, drowning every tired muscle of yours in warm, delicious shadow. His fingers were still gripping your waist as he pulled you down on top of him, his back leaning up against the thick trunk of the tree he had you hidden behind. 

“What took you so long?” he muttered against your mouth, his hands disappearing from your waist to fiddle with the buckles of your pants. 

“Sorry,” you said, taking his bottom lip in between your teeth and biting firmly. You heard his breath catch in his throat. “Armin saw me walking by.” 

Levi grunted and helped push your pants down and out of the way, the cool night air a tantalizing shock on your bared core. His fingertips trailed along your naked legs until they came to his own belt buckle, and now it was your turn to help him out of his uniform. It was only the pants with the two of you--you were always too impatient to worry about any other pieces of clothing. Just the ones that were in the way. 

As his pants were shimmied down his hips, you heard the sound of his length springing free and slapping against his navel. Your nostrils flared in desire. 

“Come here,” he growled, mindful to keep himself quiet as not to be discovered by the rest of the squad. Although, you were pretty sure they already knew Levi was fucking you on the regular. 

It was hard to see in the dark without the light of the fires, but you could feel him pumping his cock to ready himself for you. He guided your hips up and over to rest just above the glistening tip, a bead of silver precum swiping along your entrance. You hovered over it with a devilish grin, one you knew he couldn’t see, and marveled at the feeling of his dick twitching against you with anticipation. 

“Stop teasing, brat,” he said, breaking you out of your fun. 

“Always so eager,” you simpered, reaching down and grasping his shaft. With ease, you guided it into your already soaking entrance and immediately bit back the sinful moan that wanted to echo through the forest as his entire length slid painfully slow along your walls. “Fuck.” 

“Be quiet,” was all his reply. You could hear the struggle of keeping his own self quiet in the words, earning a satisfied sigh from you. As he bottomed out inside of you, he paused there, letting you adjust to his size, before slowly rocking his hips in tandem with yours. 

This wasn’t unusual, meeting him out in the open after a particularly rough mission. You realized from the start that it was a release both of you needed. It was a way to cope, a way to make sure you got through another day. That’s all it was. 

“Shit,” he quietly groaned, his hands tightening at your hips as you continued to languidly ride his cock. 

“Be quiet,” you mocked, and you could feel his glare burning a hole in your face. He responded by wrapping his arms around your waist and bringing you tighter against his torso, increasing the pace of his thrusting hips and hitting that sweet spot deep inside of you. “Oh, fuck, Levi--” 

He said nothing, but clapped a hand over your open mouth to silence your oncoming moans as he fucked you relentlessly on the forest floor. 

That warmth that had blossomed in your core was a raging bonfire now, growing hotter and hotter with every single thrust. He kept his hand against your mouth, even when you made those delicious, muffled moans against his fingers that he loved so much. His breathing turned ragged, his pace was getting sloppy. Neither of you could ever last very long with each other. 

“F-fuck,” he muttered, his hand disappearing from your mouth and returning to your hip. 

You did your best to keep yourself under control, but at the growing orgasm in your core, it was getting increasingly difficult not to let the whole forest know how good his cock felt inside of you. You tipped your head back in ecstasy, eyes fluttering open to look up at the moonlit canopy of leaves above you, the stars that littered the night sky peeking through. 

It was almost romantic. You looked down at Levi beneath you, your eyes having been adjusted to the dark, and seeing his equally pleasured expression as he fucked you. He was so beautiful. Those grey eyes, that dark hair, the stoic and firm authority that had originally piqued your interest in him. You always wanted to look into those eyes. You wanted to swim in the expanse of his mind, learn every little detail that hid in the crevices of his brain, protect him from this cruel and fucked up world because you knew it had done enough to permanently screw him up. You hated anything and everything that had ever wronged him. 

Jesus, did you love him? 

Your hips faltered at the invasive thought and you stopped matching his pace altogether. 

“Why did you stop?” he said, voice low. “What’s wrong?” 

“N-nothing,” you whispered, your hands still splayed out across his chest and stomach. His cock twitched inside of you, silently begging for you to start moving again, but he kept his focus trained on your face. 

“Stop lying.” Levi reached up and brushed the pad of his thumb over your trembling bottom lip. “We can stop, if that’s what you’d like.” 

“No,” you sighed, closing your eyes. “It’s not that, I just...I just realized something. Something that could potentially screw our little arrangement up.” 

He simply watched you with those grey eyes, saying nothing. Damn him. 

“I know we said this was just a means of catharsis,” you started, still keeping your voice at a whisper. “A way to escape from this fucked up life, but...I want more. More from you.” 

“More?” 

You nodded and swallowed nervously. “I care about you, Levi.” 

He was silent for a long, painful moment, until a low chuckle reverberated from his chest. His hands settled against your hips again, thumbs drawing idle circles against them. “So what does that mean?” 

“It means I don’t want you to fuck me in the dirt as much anymore,” you snapped, unable to keep your voice down. “I want to spend nights with you in your tent, or your bed. I want to have morning tea with you, for fuck’s sake. I’ve spent all these nights chasing after something I didn’t know I wanted until I realized there will come a time where I won’t be able to have it anymore, and then I knew.” 

“Knew what?” 

“It’s you,” you whispered shakily, looking down at him. “It’s always been you.” 

Levi reached up again and gently pulled your face down to his, to where he kissed you deeply, still tasting of salt and midnight. This kiss was different...different from the ones you had previously shared in secret, all tongue and teeth and urgency. This was sweeter. Slower. He held your chin in place as he kissed you, while his other hand cupped the back of your head. When he finally let you come up for air, he leaned back against the tree trunk with a satisfied smirk on his face. 

“What does that mean?” you asked, a hand going to touch your swollen lips. 

“For someone so smart, you sure are dense,” he said, rolling his eyes. “You know what it means, brat.” 

It was enough. A small, shy smile tugged at the corners of your lips. Before you could say anything else, his hands squeezed your hips. 

“Now,” he growled, tilting his chin up. “Are you going to let me fuck you, or not?” 

There was nothing else to say. 

[sirthisisa-wendys]

The General (part 4): Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: escape sounds good. but is it better than staying?

wc: 2.6k

tw: sexual assault and death

a/n: please don’t kill me. This is plot. No smut to be found quite yet. I’m really trying to save up my smut cards for something really big lol

masterlist

 Everything is on fire. Everyone is running around you, because for some reason, you’re walking toward the flames. Screams echo in your ears and the feeling of something tugging you into the burning building that looked like your home is too strong to ignore. When you push the door to your house open, your mother is hovering over your father, who is bleeding out as you watch in horror. When your mother looks up at you, she’s crying fat tears of sorrow, then she whispers:

“You did this, y/n. You let that monster into our town, and now look at what you’ve done.” 

A hand smooths over your face as you twist and turn, but you don’t realize it’s the General until you open your eyes, the light from the moon blocked by his body. “You’re okay. Don’t worry; no one’s going to hurt you here,” he whispers, despite having hurt you before. You push his hand away and sit up, clutching your knees to your chest as you catch your breath. “Nightmare?” he asks, and for a second, you’re wondering if he’s saying that he had a nightmare. But then you feel the sweat around the nape of your neck and on your chest, and remember the feeling of helplessness you just emerged from. You nod, looking around the tent at the table, papers, the ink, the discarded haori near the seat…

“You’re up late,” you mention - trying to change the subject - and the General huffs a laugh, pushing back his hair like he always did before he launched into an explanation. Why didn’t he just tie it up? 

“I do my best work right before the midnight hours. You’d be surprised at the formations I can create with just a hint of alertness left in my body.” He turns back to you, touching your foot with a broad hand. “Do you want to talk about your dream?”

“No,” you answer quickly, hoping he would drop the subject. 

“Then let me have Kaori fetch you some water for a bath. I would hate for you to remain as sweaty as you are.” You slide off the bed, walking around to the little desk area that held stacks of papers and diagrams and sliding one free from the stack. 

“You draw maps?” 

“Cartographers are not cheap, little one. I’ve canvassed a massive effort to make a map of every place I’ve been to… Nanami is very helpful with this, as well. He’s so attentive to details that I might have missed, so I rely on his help more often than not.” 

“And Haibara?” 

“Yu? He’s pretty easy to get along with as well. He’s my mentee, if you really consider it. If I have no children, he will inherit the throne after me.” 

“What about Gojo?” you question, sliding a map of the surrounding area forward and examining it carefully. As he drones on about the blue eyed man, you make sure your eyes cover every inch of the map and memorize the routes in and out of the camp. If you could just find a way to get over to the edge of the camp, you could easily hitch a ride back to your hometown and tell everyone about the General’s whereabouts. And expose Yuko for the traitor he is. 

“But do you enjoy your time with Kaori? I purposefully made her the head of maids so she would tend to you and you alone.” 

“Ah,” you push the map away and smile up at Geto, having finally found your escape route. “She’s lovely.” 

And Kaori would be even more lovely once she helped you with your plan to run away. 

_______________________________________________________________________

“How do you feel today?” Kaori wonders as you dress in your standard blue kimono.

“Quite well,” you answer, smiling back at her. She raises a brow, a grin forming on her lips. 

“Might this have anything to do with Master Geto?” 

You look back at the maid, and give her your best fake grin. “Maybe.” Kaori hums in surprise, then gathers her things up before leaving you alone again. “Oh, I almost forgot,” you begin, tying the kimono closed. “Could you bring me an extra pear or two with lunch today? I have a craving for them right now.” Kaori nods and bows slightly before walking out of the tent. 

Map? Check.

Clothes? Check.

Extra food? Check. 

The entire morning is spent pouring over the map, tracking your path in and out of the compound. You would have to walk a considerable distance, but it was perfectly fine. If you could manage to secure a horse, you’d probably get halfway home before anyone noticed you were missing, and that was a considerable head start. 

Your plan went into effect as soon as they announced dinner, and you wait patiently for Geto to come fetch you for the evening meal, laying in his bed with a pained expression. When he comes inside, he sees you clutching your stomach and hanging over the side of the bed a little. 

“Are you unwell?” he asks immediately, stooping by the bedside and smoothing your hair away from your face. You shake your head slowly, all of it an act, and he grumbles something about ‘knowing the food was undercooked at lunch’. Little did he know that you had stowed it away, along with a spare kimono of his and rudimentary copy of the map. 

You fake a cough for emphasis, and his hands fly to your face, patting the tender flesh of your cheeks and forehead. “You’re warm. I’ll have Kaori come and attend to-” 

“I don’t want her to catch what I have,” you moan, rolling over on your left side. 

“You shouldn’t be alone like this,” Geto urges, eyes frantically looking around the tent space for something. “I’ll… I’ll eat dinner here, then. I’ll stay with you.” You shake your head weakly, ignoring his panicked expression. 

“I can’t bear the smell of food right now… I just need some rest.” 

“And you shall have it,” Geto whispers, placing a tender kiss on your left hand. “I’ll be back within the hour to check on you.” And with that, he leaves you in the tent. When you suspect that he - and as a result, his friends - are all gone to eat, you slide out of the bed and retrieve your sack of things hidden underneath it. 

It isn’t escaping the camp that’s hard.

It’s running through the dead of night with only a sliver of moon to guide you that is most difficult. 

Without the daylight, you could easily mistake a patch of trees for a forest and river for a ravine. But it doesn’t matter. Your father had taught you how to tell the North from the South and the East from the West, and you relied on those skills now to guide you out of the camp. First, you have to locate the brightest star in the sky and just follow it to get on the right path. If it is directly overhead, you’d be on your way to determining which way to go. The makeshift map you have is telling you that you should wander northeast to get out of the confines of the camp, and you would be well on your way to your hometown. 

Except… 

You look back at the lights dotted around the camp behind you. 

What if you stayed? What if you stayed and made friends with the General? What if you stayed, made friends with the General, and then lured him in with a false sense of security? You adjust the sack on your back and think for a moment more.

He had let you remain in the tent by yourself. Not only was it a sign that he was finally beginning to trust you while you were alone, but also while you had all of the opportunity to escape, like you were now. Either that, or he’s more than confident that he would be able to find you and drag you back so he could execute his plan properly. 

The only thing that would come from you attempting to run away would be a chase, and you would more than likely be caught without a horse. Then, Geto would not hesitate to discipline you and make you submit to his will, and possibly never trust you again. 

“Flattery is the best persuader of people,” your father used to murmur, but you didn’t believe it back then; rolling your eyes at his old sayings. But now… perhaps you could work this to your advantage by staying. 

You trek back with the pack, dumping everything except the kimono nearby to avoid any suspicion. The kimono is placed back where it had been before, and you slump onto the bed - facing away from the tent opening - groaning with exhaustion and anxiety. 

The General returns what feels like a few minutes later and runs a hand down your back with care, humming in the darkness. He’s unsteady on his feet, it sounds like, and he anchors himself on the bed with one knee, leaning over you to brush a lock of hair away from your face. 

“If there’s one thing I know about Yuko,” he breathes, words tumbling out of his mouth like a bucket of apples. “He didn’t lie about beauty or character.” Geto slides in next you, wrapping an arm around your waist protectively and nestling his face into the crook of your neck. He places a kiss below your earlobe, then almost instantly afterward, he’s asleep. 

And although you want to squirm out of his arms and give him what-for, you don’t. The resolve in your new plan has set you on a path of compromise, and you would see this through until the end.

_______________________________________________________________________

Lips. They’re everywhere. On your face, trailing down your neck and accompanied by touches that stoke the flames of a fire you didn’t realize you had burning inside of you. 

When your eyes flutter open, it’s still night, but the General has let the wine go to his head. You let out an involuntary moan at the feeling of his fingers gripping the skin underneath your kimono before you snatch yourself out of his grasp, tumbling to the floor below and remembering how much you hated him. 

“Y/n… are you..” he hiccups a little. “Are you alright?” You push off of the ground in a fury, dusting yourself off and facing away from him as you yell:

“How dare you go back on your promise to not defile me, you filthy swine! Touching me in my sleep is low for even you, Your Majesty!” You spit the last two words at him, then stomp towards the flaps of the tent, which open with a flutter before you can get to them. 

Geto steps inside, his eyes meeting yours in a confused stare. 

“I heard you yelling and I--” He looks over your shoulder and frowns, squinting his eyes at the figure in the bed. “Get up.” When the man stumbles to the floor, Geto pulls you in behind him, shielding you from who really occupied the bed. 

“M-Master Geto, I can expla--” 

“Silence.” The deep bass of the General’s voice is unmatched, deadly, and practically telling of the punishment to come. Haibara and Gojo walk past you into the tent behind Geto, making lanterns glow and illuminate the tent space. “Do you know this man?” Geto roars, pointing an accusing finger at the offender as he turns to you, throwing daggers with his eyes. You look at the soon-to-be dead man, nostrils flaring. But you don’t recognize his face, nor his body. Nothing about this person is familiar.

“No, sir,” you state, and Geto starts a little at the sound of the formality falling from your lips. 

“Has he touched you in any way?” Your skin is crawling with what feels like a thousand little bugs, and you clutch your elbows instinctively. In one smooth motion, Geto turns to Gojo, who nods his head once and grabs the man’s hair, dragging him past you and Haibara as his screams of pain echo into the night. You feel two hands resting on your shoulders as you stare at the tent flaps, the fluttering of them barely revealing the man’s fate. It’s only when the screaming stops that you turn to Geto. “Are you hurt?” he asks, dipping his head a little to look into your eyes with his piercing black ones. 

“No, I’m fine.” 

“Where did he touch you?” You look over to Haibara, and Geto does as well, before waving the youth off. “Make sure Gojo takes care of…” 

“Of course,” Haibara replies, and with a sad smile thrown your way, he departs. Geto turns his attention back to you, taking your wrists in his hands. 

“Show me.” You move a hand across your chest and down your right thigh, grazing the spot where the man had grabbed you roughly. Then you swipe at your neck and face. “My gods,” he breathes before pulling you close. Tears threaten to leak out of your eyes, but you hold them at bay, trying to maintain the hysterics for later when you were alone. “I should have stayed.” 

“I should have let you.” 

_______________________________________________________________________

You awake enveloped in Geto’s warmth, unsure of when you fell asleep for the second time, but thankful for the body heat that wards off the night-time chill. When you move away from him, he does not awaken, but does stir a little. 

And that’s when you see it. The dragon on his arm is moving it’s head back and forth, eyes blinking lazily. At first you think you’re hallucinating, but when you rub your eyes and peer closer, it’s still moving; the entirety of its body doing a little dance side to side. 

“You should see it after a battle,” Geto murmurs sleepily, eyes trained on your astonished face. “Dancing is just how it wakes itself up.” You stare at the mythical being in silence, unsure of whether the true beast was the man before you or the tattoo on his arm. “How are you feeling?” Geto finally breaks the silence, sitting up and pushing himself out of the bed. 

“I feel alright.” He takes your hand, lifting it up to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to the back. You pause, unsure of how to respond to such a gesture, but Geto keeps moving around the tent, adjusting the sheets and running his hands through his hair. 

“Have you ever thought about braiding it?” you wonder, and Geto looks over at you with an amused look. 

“I have; but no one here is skilled enough to braid - not even Kaori.” 

Wordlessly, you trek over to him and thread the locks of hair through your fingers. 

“How do you keep it so clean when you’re on the battlefield?” you wonder aloud, and Geto chuckles. 

“Water is a resource that I take full advantage of, little one.” He instinctively stops his movements and angles his head back so you can work the strands one over the other, finally ending the long braid with a simple strip of fabric from the edge of your kimono. 

“There.” Geto pulls the braid over his shoulder and examines it carefully, humming at the sight of your handiwork. 

“This is interesting, to say the least.” 

“It will keep things from getting caught in your hair, and I’m sure it feels much less ‘all over the place’.” 

“Indeed, it does,” he breathes, then reaches a hand out to touch your cheek affectionately. Without thinking, you lean into his touch, and after taking half a step forward, Geto places a kiss on your forehead. After this signal of affection, he leaves, making you wonder what was wrong with your face and if you actually had a fever - because your cheeks felt hotter than they had ever felt before. 

[mythicamagic]

Sesskag Week: Day One ‘Green’

Title: Stop me if you’ve heard this one before

Summary: Kagome witnesses Inuyasha and Kikyo in another loving embrace and runs away, stumbling straight into Sesshoumaru that moonlit night. (My attempt at an old fandom trope.)

Rated T

Words: 4,000

You can read this on Ao3, Dokuga and Fanfiction.net 

AN: I just wanted to try my hand at an old sesskag fandom trope that I reckon was in the height of popularity from the early 2000s- 2010s. Other tropes from that time included Abusive Inuyasha, no one knowing what the canon end or final battle was like, and mokomoko being sentient. Ah...old memories. If this fic feels like it's from a bygone era, well...that was the intention lol. For Sesskag Week Day One - Green.

-----

Standing frozen stiff, Kagome stared ahead. A gasp remained locked behind her teeth. Slim fingers dug into the bark of a tree she'd hidden behind, gazing around the trunk towards a couple cradling each other tightly.

This was the second time. The first had hit harder inside her chest, the slam of heartbreak cracking the fragile shell of first love that had closed around her heart.

But she'd made a promise to Inuyasha; to remain by his side. She needed to get over this haze of green misting her eyes, the jealousy roaring through her veins. Inuyasha and Kikyo used to be lovers, it was perfectly natural and humane to want to hold his lost love.

That didn't make it any easier to see.

In fact, the emotion welling up in her throat threatened to burst louder than before. Fearing the strength of her own reaction, Kagome stepped back. She took another, then another, whirling around to flee into pitch-black darkness.

I wanted to be more mature about this, she thought. The tears stinging her eyes bespoke of her anger, worry, and heartache- like an old wound had been freshly ripped open anew.

Kagome couldn't be understanding or mature, not like poised Lady Kikyo likely could. Kagome was 15, emotive and sparking. She was fire, passion, a roaring flame of anger that could climb so high nothing would stifle it.

Stumbling over tree roots in the dark, quiet woods, Kagome ran blind. When she felt that she'd covered enough ground, far away from the lover's embrace, she stopped abruptly in the middle of a meadow. Sweat beading her temple and throat burning, she threw back her head.

And yelled.

She threw all turbulent emotions into it, crying so loud her windpipe protested. The noise became horse and broken before she stopped.

Standing within that moonlit clearing, Kagome caught her breath, tears threatening to spill over.

"Must you make such noise in the dead of night?" a steady voice drawled.

Her chest constricted, breath halting. Shadows peeled off from the trees, a figure revealing itself under the moonlight.

Kagome blinked hard, trying to fight tears as Sesshoumaru stepped closer. She moved back to keep distance, vaguely wary. Shit, she'd forgotten her weapons.

He wasn't an enemy per se anymore but they weren't exactly allies either. Since he'd adopted that human girl, they seemed to be in more of a stalemate. Nonetheless, the caprice of the Killing Perfection's moods were unpredictable.

"M-my bad, I didn't think anyone was around."

"You cried like a wounded animal," his lips curved, as though enjoying the thought. "Take heed, girl; such wailing will disturb demons with keen hearing- and not all are as forgiving as I tonight."

"Right, duly noted," she mumbled, rubbing her arm. Damn it. She'd just wanted a place to cry. Sesshoumaru was the last person she wanted to feel vulnerable around.

Golden eyes slid up to observe something beyond the trees. Turning to follow his line of sight, her chest constricted- glimpsing a trailing soul collector in the sky.

"Inuyasha's dead priestess uses those creatures, does she not?"

"Y-yeah, they're Kikyo's soul collectors."

His attention returned to her face, resting heavily there. It disquieted her until at length, he finally made a noise. "...Hn."

The Daiyouki smoothly pivoted, walking out of her available vision to meld within thick darkness again, but she sensed him linger beneath the trees, perhaps taking a seat.

"Keep the snivelling to a minimum."

Kagome startled, blue eyes widening. The first tear fell- closely followed by the second. Soon a stream of them flooded down her face, and she crumpled to her knees, palm clasped tight over her mouth as she tried not to sob.

She wasn't sure how or why. How she could suddenly fall apart in front of him when Kagome prided herself on not crying in front of anyone if it were possible. The why also remained a mystery- why did he invite her to stay? Sesshoumaru was not a charitable sort. Perhaps his sadistic streak enjoyed the salt of endless tears.

Kagome stayed there, quivering in the moonlit clearing for a good while, grass cushioning her bare legs, arms wrapped around herself protectively. When at last the sobs abated, she shakily stood.

Without a word to the demon who had watched her like a voyer of her pain, Kagome headed towards the village after piecing herself back together.

She couldn't see Sesshoumaru's expression, nor the way in which citrine eyes followed her figure until she stepped out of sight.

---

It wasn't like Kagome cried after every damn encounter with Kikyo, though they did leave her worn and exhausted. She felt mighty proud of not bursting into sobs the second Inuyasha's eyes lingered on her a little too long. But Kagome could bear that. She could bear many things.

It was fine, totally fine. She was fine!

Until she wasn't.

It had been two months since that emotional night and thankfully Sesshoumaru hadn't acknowledged her fine display of despair and teenage hormones. In fact, he seemed a little quieter during their encounters while hunting for Naraku, pinpointing her amidst her friends and eyeing her carefully sometimes.

So it was with mild surprise that Kagome stumbled into him again on one such occasion where she needed a good cry. And then again a few weeks after- followed by another encounter near a waterfall a month later. Every time, Sesshoumaru said nothing. He merely waited a respectable distance away, not particularly looking at, nor acknowledging her sorrow as she let out pent up frustrations.

What should be an immensely private thing had changed. Kagome wasn't sure what to feel about it, especially when he began erecting barriers around the area.

Almost like he was ensuring her privacy while continuing to invade it himself.

"W-why…?" she choked out one evening, sitting upon a log with only the Daiyoukai for company. Inuyasha and the others were none the wiser, sitting back at camp further within the forest. "Why are you here, hanging around? Is it fun for you to watch this?" her anger simmered, misdirected.

Sesshoumaru's lazy gaze slid over to her, reclining at the base of a tree. He huffed, drawing a knee up to gracefully drape an arm over it. "Your wailing is an assault on my hearing, I derive no pleasure from this."

"Then what's the deal? I find it hard to believe you're doing it for me."

"Hn, you are correct, I am not," he freely admitted. "This act of concealment is out of acknowledgement. Warriors must not show weakness in battle, nor to anyone but a select few. I am merely ensuring your wish to hide your pain is successful since you are so terrible at doing it yourself," inhuman eyes pinned her in place. Her breath stalled at their intensity. "Your desire to conceal tears and weakness is unexpected for one as emotional as you."

Kagome picked at her fingers. "It's not out of a sense of duty or warrior pride as you seem to think. I just don't like burdening people with my problems. Only...all this energy piles up and explodes out as anger at Inuyasha anyway, I'm not suppressing or hiding anything at the end of the day," she gave a self-deprecating smile. Letting out a long whoosh of air from her lungs, Kagome turned to him.

"For what it's worth, thanks. For uh- concealing me. I still think it's odd that you're going to all this trouble but I'm grateful."

He arched a brow, unruffled and outwardly placid.

Wiping the remaining tears away, she gave a weak smirk. "Urgh, I blubber so loudly over a guy I really shouldn't be in love with. Kinda stupid."

"Indeed," he drawled without sympathy, glancing away.

"And you're still a jerk," she hummed, smiling slightly. But a weird, considerate one. Was it possible to be both considerate and a jerk?

Sesshoumaru did not look at her, tilting his head back to gaze at the branches overhead.

"You 'blubber' so loud a 'barrier' is necessary in order to keep your privacy. Inuyasha would catch your scent otherwise."

"Can Naraku see us like this?"

"The barrier does not mask us from sight, it merely hides scent. It is effective on Inuyasha and other demons but the spider could easily survey us from a distance."

Kagome sighed, rubbing her eyes. "Gotcha," she murmured, falling into a strangely companionable silence with him, before asking; "have you ever been in love?"

His reply was immediate and crisp; "no. Such things are for fanciful beings."

Biting her lip to keep from mentioning his 'Great and Powerful Father' had fallen victim to such fanciful things too, she hummed.

Sesshoumaru frowned in her direction. "Speak."

"I just think- when you do experience love, it's gonna knock you off your feet."

He sneered, "you think yourself an expert on the subject?"

"Gods no! Do I look like one?" Kagome grinned, gesturing to her tear-stained cheeks.

Sesshoumaru searched her face, visibly relaxing slightly. He tilted his head, surveying his sharp nails. "For what it is worth, if I had an opinion on the matter- which I do not," he assured. "I should think your fanciful 'love' emotion is not supposed to cause such pain. I question your dedication to it."

"My feelings for Inuyasha aren't something I can turn off. Believe me, I would if I could," shifting she gazed up at the stars, smiling gently. "Wow, Ursa Major looks so clear and close tonight."

Youki brushed her senses, her only warning. Soft grass crunched beneath boots as Sesshoumaru joined her on the log, sitting beside her. Mokomoko brushed the exposed skin of her knee. His eyes narrowed. "You are referring to the stars?"

Kagome blinked with surprise at his sudden piqued interest, raising a hand to point them out. "Yeah, a constellation. Ursa Major starts there and ends there," her finger drifted.

Sesshoumaru's blank features became lofty, huffing. "That is the incorrect name for it. Those stars are called Satoko."

"Who told you that?"

"My instructor when I was young. And this collection," he reached out, plucking her hand out of the air and redirecting her point to another constellation, "is Mineko, a volcano spirit."

Her skin burned at the contact, feeling his calloused palm, rough from years of training- clasping the back of her hand. Kagome blinked, feeling strange. Her stomach jumped, and she felt grateful and confused when he released her.

"I-I see! Tell me more about them, are they linked to your demonic heritage?" Kagome asked, flexing burning fingers in her lap.

Even hours afterwards, the sensation of warmth and strong youki flitting over her flesh continued to itch at her skin.

---

"I don't want to talk to you! JUST BACK OFF!"

Inuyasha's expression flickered, open hurt briefly appearing before white ears pinned flat to his skull. "FINE! Go running home again, see if I care!"

Kagome stormed away, hands balled into fists. She didn't call for Kirara to fly her to the well, she couldn't be bothered to haul herself back to the future and continue their long and tired trend of long-distance pining followed by disgruntled reconciliation.

She was tired.

Miroku, Sango and Shippo were tired too, judging from the multiple sighs sounding out behind her.

Before she could step out of earshot, she heard the monk murmuring to Inuyasha, encouraging him to follow her and make up. Likely to save everyone the hassle of another drawn-out spat.

Oh no.

Hadn't anyone listened to what she'd said? She didn't want to be chased in some coy 'let's have a fake argument' way. Real hurt and bone-weary annoyance soured her mood.

Hurrying away, Kagome began to run alongside a stream, jogging through a sparse forest and hoping to put distance between them. So lost in her thoughts of avoiding the Hanyou was she that Kagome burst through a youki barrier without noticing, glancing over her shoulder with paranoia.

By the time she detected wafts of steam brushing her skin, it was too late to stop. She gaped upon facing forward, almost crashing headfirst into a well-sculpted chest.

Long strands of silver against bare skin caught Kagome's dazed attention, gaze travelling up to find golden eyes staring down at her. Sesshoumaru paused half-naked before a hot-spring he'd likely intended on bathing in, tipping his head to one side in a silent demand for explanation.

"Kagome!" a distant voice resounded through the trees.

Panic erupted inside Kagome's heart and she turned to the demon. Her hands latched onto his remaining arm, blue eyes stinging.

"Please..."

She couldn't articulate what she wanted, even though it was so simple. Something thick clogged her throat.

The Daiyoukai lifted his attention to the trees. He then moved swiftly.

Sesshoumaru tossed his red and white hankimono over her, enclosing it tight around her body. It shielded Kagome from sight as her vision became swallowed by white silks.

Kagome jolted as a hard force shoved her down into dewy grass that perspired from heady steam saturating the air. Before she could react to the plains of a lean body pressing against hers, his weight pinning her to the ground, she heard branches shaking. Twigs snapping.

Her loafers were ripped off her feet, tossed somewhere further away. Likely out of sight. She heard them clatter over the sound of her drumming heartbeat, unable to see what was going on.

"What the- Sesshoumaru!" Inuyasha snarled, sounding slightly out of breath. "The fuck are you doing, hanging around here?"

A clawed hand minded the folds of the hankimono apart just enough to expose the side of Kagome's cheek- firm lips pressing against it. She stiffened. Sesshoumaru kissed her skin heatedly, his sigh billowing hot breath over her sensitive skin.

"Clearly I am enjoying myself with a woman. Do not interrupt, whelp."

Kagome could barely breathe, face turning steadily red. She lay frozen, reeling.

"Keh, whatever. Just tell me if you've seen Kagome pass through here."

He must not be able to smell me...

"Can you not keep tabs on a simple miko, brother?" Sesshoumaru purred, his hand gliding over her covered thigh, stroking back and forth. "Did she flee from you? I cannot say I blame her."

A snarl ripped through the hot springs. "Piss off! I'll find her myself!"

Furious sounds of bushes being slashed aside rang out, Inuyasha's swears becoming fainter as he drew further and further away.

Left with a demon straddling her and enclosed in luxurious silks, Kagome exhaled. She blinked, briefly dazed as the cover was lifted from her face, eyes adjusting. Dappled sunlight stretched across Sesshoumaru's face as he lingered close with an unreadable expression.

Kagome swallowed. "Thanks," she managed to say.

She's never been this close to a guy before, well not like this, anyway. Inuyasha carried her on his back or occasionally in his arms if the situation got dire, and they'd hugged. But this felt different.

Sesshoumaru braced himself over her using his one available arm, corded muscles leading down to a tapered waist. He was handsome in an aristocratic, cold sort of way – all hard angles and sharp edges. Her polar opposite. The heat of his bare skin bled through her school uniform, their hips melded together, and Kagome was struck by something painfully obvious that had eluded her until now.

There were...other options besides just Inuyasha.

Clearly, the Hanyou knew this little nugget too, since he flitted between herself and Kikyo.

But really, Kagome hadn't given it much thought. Hojo liked her but was easily dismissed. Kouga liked her but she'd always been too busy to really give him a chance.

And Sesshoumaru?

Her attention was helplessly fixed on him while the demon craned his neck down, scenting her hair.

Sesshoumaru had never been on the table before. Did he even look at her like that?

Golden eyes slanted to meet her, half-lidded. Her stomach did a flip, thighs twitching. Soft pink lips parted, and his attention flew to her mouth, lingering.

Before she could say anything, Inuyasha's voice sounded out somewhere close by again. "Damn it, Kagome! Just come out! Quit hiding!"

Kagome found herself sighing- stilling when she caught Sesshoumaru's dark rumble. His lips peeled back with displeasure, body leaning up and away from hers, climbing off.

Remaining sprawled on the ground for a moment, she calmed her racing heart. Picking herself up unsteadily, Kagome unwrapped the hankimono from around herself, awkwardly folding it as best she could and handing it back.

"I better go."

He inclined his head. "Until next time."

Next time.

Her gut wrenched. The next time she became upset with Inuyasha chasing after Kikyo. Oh wow. It really had become something so commonplace it felt inevitable.

That wasn't right or normal. That wasn't how she wanted to live, was it? Anticipating one crying session after another?

"Actually, let's meet up," she said, setting her shoulders back.

Surprise brightened his gaze. Sesshoumaru's lips twitched, "meet up, hm? You make it sound like an illicit affair."

Her expression darkened, "no. I'm not into that," she snipped, pushing her vindictive mood down. This was not an offer out of petty revenge. She just wanted to see him out of choice for once. "I brought a telescope. Let's use it tomorrow when it gets dark."

He agreed to it, watching her leave in that quiet, interested way he usually did. Kagome glanced back in time to see him partially turned away- hankimono clenched in his grip and lifted to his nose in a careful inhale.

---

Kagome actually felt quite happy about the meeting. Anticipation had raced through her veins during the entire day, though she didn't breathe a word about it to her friends.

After finishing up her food, she'd hung around camp late into the evening, before inching away with a weak excuse.

She didn't notice Inuyasha's keen eyes trailing after her, too preoccupied with hurrying around a nearby waterfall and retrieving her telescope that she'd hidden behind some rocks earlier.

Carrying the heavy thing up to the crest of a decently sized hill, she staggered upon finding the Daiyoukai already awaiting her at the top.

Kagome stopped and stared. She then felt a genuine smile curve her lips. How strange, that he could invoke such a reaction.

"Did I keep you waiting?"

Sesshoumaru lifted his chin haughtily, grunting. "I am not some lost puppy following you around, miko. I sensed your approach from my camp and generously decided not to stand you up."

Kagome grinned. What a big response. Almost like he was lying.

Giggling softly to herself, she arranged the telescope set, angling it up to face the distant cosmos. "Okay, you're gonna love this. I'm going to bore you with astrology and point out zodiac signs."

"These fancy foreign words do not sound boring," he uttered, leaning in close to view the stars with faint amazement, perhaps not anticipating the clarity of their view. Kagome felt his hip brush her side, her cheeks immediately blazing red. She tried to temper her reaction but failed miserably, looking at him briefly.

His placid features were much too close, familiar dark youki humming in the space between them. Comforting. Golden eyes met hers, ever watchful. Waiting.

"Sesshoumaru!"

They immediately flew apart as though they'd been doing something scandalous, Kagome's heart leaping into her throat.

Inuyasha stood a little ways away, teeth on display, hand resting on his sword. "Get the hell away from her!"

"Inuyasha- wait," she tried to cut in, but Sesshoumaru was quicker. Lifting his remaining hand, he fed youki into it, allowing deadly fingers to elongate into murderous talons. However, much to her surprise, he faced Kagome while flexing them.

"I will kill her if I please, Inuyasha," he rumbled. "She is a mere fanciful human."

Blue eyes widened, but Kagome clocked onto what he was doing immediately. It lingered there under his calm features that he tried to harden into contempt.

He was playing the villain. For her.

Likely out of some misguided desire to keep everything at the status quo, because he believed it would be easier on them both if they weren't seen as friends. Everything halted inside Kagome. She felt like she'd been coasting through her days without really questioning it.

"Bastard!" Inuyasha snarled, ripping his sword from its sheath.

With a strange sense of calm, Kagome raised her head. She then stepped in between them both, placing her fingers atop Sesshoumaru's sharp, transformed ones.

"That's enough," she said quietly, lowering his large hand.

"K-Kagome? What're you doing? Get back!"

"I said; that's enough, Inuyasha!" Kagome grit her teeth, tension gripping her fiercely- until it abruptly left all at once, rendering her exhausted.

"We need to talk," she said softly, gazing at him meaningfully.

Inuyasha blinked, lowering his sword as his ears pricked and lowered.

Turning to Sesshoumaru, she smiled weakly. "We're going to have to cut this meeting short, sorry."

"We can always reschedule."

Kagome gentled, a warmth pooling inside her that she hoped to revisit soon. However, the Daiyoukai hadn't made it three steps away before familiar laughter spread over the vast countryside beyond their hill.

Miasma leaked out of the sky, waning flowers on their stalks and killing the grass, rendering it dulled brown.

Naraku appeared in all his true, villainous glory- at exactly the wrong time nobody wanted to deal with him. However, absolutely no one could ignore this fight, as a completed Shikon jewel rested in the palm of his hand.

Kagome's stomach dropped. She automatically accepted her bow and arrows from Sango and Miroku when they arrived, looking grim-faced and out of breath. Inuyasha lifted his sword again with determination blazing in his eyes.

The Final Battle had begun.

---

They say 'time heals all wounds.'

Kagome would like to have a word with whoever 'they' were because this sentiment proved false. Time muted pain. It concealed it under layers of civilian life, responsibilities, family dinners and get togethers with friends, but her deep wound never really healed. The pervasive desire to return back to a life that had been stolen from her.

She couldn't say it had been perfect in the Feudal Era but she still missed it terribly. Missed her friends, travelling, exploring, strengthening her burgeoning powers.

She also missed someone she hadn't anticipated longing to speak to.

After killing Naraku and getting her hands on the jewel, Kagome had made her wish;

'I wish Kikyo would come back to life.'

It had resulted in trapping Kagome in the future, the Bone Eater's Well closing, barring entrance. She'd figured the look on Inuyasha's face had almost been worth it, his gob-smacked expression kind of hilarious.

Perhaps the wish had been an out of nowhere impulse. Who knew. All Kagome knew was that a part of her had died that day on the hill with the telescope- the candle of first love snuffing out. She still cared for Inuyasha of course, she wouldn't have wished Kikyo alive otherwise, but the act said something. They'd never be anything more than friends.

After trying her hand at dating a few boys in class, Kagome had broken up with them and remained single for the better part of a year. There wasn't anything wrong with them, per se, but it had felt disingenuous.

It wasn't them she wanted to speak to.

At the age of 18, the miko got her chance. Inexplicably, and without warning or provocation, the well reopened again one night.

Kagome stirred awake, lured downstairs by the promise of magic. It pulsed strongly like before, so she slid her legs over the rim of the well without fear that it would be a oneway trip.

Leaping down while still clad in her patchwork style pyjamas, dark hair whipped upwards as blue light swallowed her whole.

Immediately the smell of city smoke was replaced with distinct smells of petrichor. Fresh scents guided her feet to land gently on the bottom of the well, looking up at dark, cloudy skies.

Climbing out and feeling moisture lingering in the air dampening her hair, Kagome looked up, breath hitching.

The clearing looked exactly the same. Achingly nostalgic.

It sprawled empty and lonesome, awaiting her in complete silence. Kagome noticed the dirt disturbed around the well from how often she and Inuyasha had travelled through it.

Breath catching, hot tears stung her eyes.

Laughing weakly to herself, Kagome tried to rub them away in vain, more rolling down her cheeks. Unlike the usual times though, these were happy tears. Relief threatened to buckle her knees.

"I'm home," she shuddered.

"...Welcome back."

Snapping her head up, Kagome swallowed an embarrassing noise, warmth melting into her expression. She took a step, and then another, walking over to Sesshoumaru as he stood a little ways away, moonlight highlighting his hair.

"Y-you're here?"

Golden eyes flitted over her face, gentling a touch. He reached out and brushed pale knuckles against her jaw, catching tears upon it. "I sensed you. As usual, you blubber too loud, miko."

Choking on a sob, Kagome laughed, catching his hand and pressing her lips to the inside of his wrist.

Sesshoumaru stiffened, attention zeroing in on her. Kagome held his gaze as best she could with watery eyes, smiling.

"Date me," she stated plainly.

No second-guessing, no 'will they, won't they?' no more pining or questioning. Kagome refused to do it again.

He seemed somewhat taken aback by her forwardness for a moment, before a strange kind of intensity livened his expression. He wound his single arm around her waist, pulling her in close.

"What boldness, Kagome," he purred, lips ghosting the side of her ear. "But you can do better than that. Are you certain that is all you want from me?"

Kagome blushed hotly, shifting to catch his eye and smirk. "I just made it back here after three years. Let me catch my breath," she teased, hooking a hand under his yellow obi. "But...yeah, I might want more soon, you jerk."

Sesshoumaru rumbled with approval, swiftly ending the charade of teasing and swooping in. His lips claimed hers firmly, and it was not a kind, sweet kiss but she didn't mind, pressing herself against him. His tongue delved into her mouth, brushing against hers as a clawed hand snaked up into dark hair, gripping tight.

Smiling against his mouth, Kagome trying her best to keep up with his rough kiss as he bit and sucked her lips, inhaling her scent. He almost seemed elated, kissing her so quick and eagerly, like he'd been starving for it.

Out of curiosity, Kagome slid her palm over his chest, finding his heart racing.

Sesshoumaru broke away to plant heated kisses against her neck. He panted, the hand in her hair shaking with want of her.

Kagome stared, slowly looping her arms around his shoulders. "You...want me?" she said quietly like an obvious revelation. It felt so strange and surreal.

He huffed with amusement against her lips. "Hn, it appears you have made me fanciful, miko."

Brightening and smiling widely, Kagome pushed up on tip-toe. Guiding his mouth down with palms cradling his striped cheeks, she kissed him again, pouring every powerful emotion left unsaid into it.

End

[potter-imagines]

Meadow (George Weasley x Reader)

Prompt: Hi, maybe fred or george (you can choose) and the reader are spending the afternoon in a flower meadow together? (sorry for my english, it's not my first language)🙈😊

Notes: okay I'm sure spring break isn't a thing at hogwarts but for this write, it is . hope you enjoy !!

Warnings: none, just a lot of fluff cause everyone loves george

Word Count: 3.5k

Spring break was winding down to a close as early April broke through. New life was brought to fruition as the snow from the harsh winter evaporated into the ground. Outside the grounds of the Weasley’s home were fields and fields of open land. Flowers sprouted in every step creating a kaleidoscope of colors. Those tumbling plains seemed to extend for miles beyond the horizon. Just beyond those grassy hills and slopes was a large, secluded meadow.

It was the early hours of a Saturday morning when a pair invaded the area far before the sun began to rise. The meadow Y/n and George had been occupying seemed to be the perfect location to view the birth of the new season. The perfect spot to enjoy each other’s company. Soon they would be ushered back to Kings Cross and board the Hogwarts Express- George for his last time and Y/n, well it certainly wouldn’t be her last time, no matter how hard she dreamed it was. The topic of George leaving Hogwarts was one the couple tip-toed around. Break was only two weeks but that meant two extra weeks for the pair to be together. With the school year tumbling to an end, George would be leaving school soon with his brother to start his dream and Y/n would be stuck needing to finish her last year at Hogwarts alone. The girl was a year below her boyfriend and although it never caused any friction for the pair, the gap was finally giving them issues.

In George’s mind, arriving to his last school year was both an accomplishment, and a burden. As excited as he was to finally leave those stone walls that held him back, the last thing he wanted was to leave her behind. It didn’t make any of the pain easier knowing that he’d be leaving alongside Fred earlier than the rest of their classmates. Y/n had been the only other living soul Fred and George had filled in on their grand exit plan. They needed someone to keep guard and be a lookout so who better than the one person they trusted not to run their mouth.

There was a heavy smell of earth in the air, mixed with the faint odor of new growth. The vivid green leaves and the cheerful colors of the blossoms are a feast. Flowers popped up from the soiled ground and the fruit hanging from the trees were starting to come to life.

The couple had spent a good portion of their break at the secluded meadow. In a way, it became their little secret spot. Not that it was a secret location by any means. Fred and George had discovered the meadow a few years back when they had ventured miles away from the burrow. The boys were always adventurous, especially when Molly and Arthur finally allowed them free range outside the family home when they were eleven. There were miles and miles of tall grass and woodland that made it easy to get lost. Of course with Fred and George, losing their way was never a worry. When the boys stumbled upon the breathtaking meadow, George seemed to be the only one interested in their find. Fred had wandered off into the section of forest they entered through, his attention captured by a group of baby deer camouflage in the woods. For years George would wander back to the meadow on his own when he needed a break from the loudness of his siblings or grew tired of Ron trailing on his coattails every turn. He promised himself he would keep the spot to himself, let it be his own private sanctuary. This plan ran smooth for a few years before George made the exception to break the rule for one person only.

But for now, the two could only take advantage of the time they had together and they didn’t intend to spend a second apart. It looked as if Y/n and George had stepped straight into a storybook. The grass was Eden-green and thigh-high to a thrush. A neon-blue ribbon of river ran through the ground in a squiggle line. A party of bright yellow ducklings scattered in the calm water, small quacks filling the air. Chirping and sweet songs from the birds made that feeling of Spring become a reality. Buzzing bumble bees and wildflowers sprung along the land. The sounds of nature engulfed the girl whole as she melted into the soft grass.

“I could stay here for the rest of my life- away from people, away from the world. It’s peaceful.” Y/n hummed softly. Her large doe eyes observed the clouds that formed a perfect line-up in the baby blue sky, as if they were boats safely moored in celestial harbour. Peeks of sunlight seeped in through the cracks in the fluffy clouds casting a shimmering light as they danced slowly by in the sky. Just a moment before she was listing off all the animals and objects she saw in the sky. Now she was considering the thought of staring at them forever.

George stole a quick glance down where she laid in his lap. Strands of her h/c hair flowing across his legs and hands. It tickled against his skin as a light breeze swept past. Her abrupt words had caught him off guard. He had missed the sound of her voice for the last hour, although adored the trance-like state of happiness that she was in so he was constantly biting his tongue to keep his thoughts from pouring out. Now that she was somewhat back to earth, he was eager to chat. Tilting his head in her direction George raised his eyebrows.

“Yeah?” He questioned.

A smile graced her lips as she nodded in confirmation. The land was beautiful, unlike anything she had seen. There certainly weren’t any meadows with such serenity as this in the city of London. For once in her life she could hear the sound of her heart beating in the quietness of the open land and she loved it. No cars honking, no crabby cityfolk shoving their way through crowds, no taxi drivers screaming at pedestrians to move, no bright lights, just nature and all of its creations.

Extending her arm, Y/n pointed out to the land. George followed her direction to see she was gesturing to a small section of the meadow that was surrounded by an eyecatching army of poppies and bellflowers. A large willow tree stood towering over the side. In the middle was a bare section- large enough for a home to fit. Y/n grinned in excitement as she suddenly sat up straight.

“Yeah. Build a little cottage, start a garden, maybe even a family… I think it would be lovely.” She said dreamily. Her eyes looked up to George in wonder, silently asking him to share his opinion. Mirroring her previous actions, George scanned the meadow. He placed his hand against his chin, pretending to think long and hard about her idea. Y/n giggled besides him and shoved him lightly on the shoulder. He chuckled in response and leaned back into the log supporting him. George nodded in agreement to the pondering dream.

There was a casual grace to the meadow, as if it has a peripheral awareness of its own beauty yet would rather be at peace in this warm sun. It was quaint and humble yet glowing in - like a glorious mansion hidden away in a forest. A hidden gem that was to be kept away from the rest of society. Their own little happy place that opened and bloomed just for them. There was something so magical about the meadow that George couldn’t pass it up. It felt like fate leading him there- leading them.

“Think we could make that work. The family part is a definante- it’s just building a home that’ll take a bit of time. We could get started on making a family of our own right now-” George was cut off when a hand clamped over his mouth. Although he was only joking, he wouldn’t be opposed to the idea.

“George-” She warned playfully.

“Or in a few years. But living out here would be nice. ‘S not like I got to worry about commuting for work. It’d be a nice escape from the shop once we get business running, and once you graduate. Not to mention moving out here would mean I’d get to see more of you in that pretty dress. Flowers in your hair... you look so enchanting, darling.” A bashfulness struck Y/n to her core at his words. Her eyes instinctively shot down to the grass as a paint of red rose to her face. George’s heart quite literally stuttered at her reaction. Making her blush, seeing her smile because of something he said never failed to bring a sense of happiness to George. That damn smile, he thought to himself. He was sure she could convince him of anything when that innocent look took over. It was natural for her. Y/n was simply ethereal in every way.

His hand brushed as gently as a feather across the skin of her cheek. Pushing the daisy back in place behind her ear, George drew his hand down from her ear to her neck. Gripping her softly George pulled her towards his body, lessening the space between the pair. Dipping his head he leaned in towards the girl until their lips were only inches apart. He smirked teasingly, ready to make a remark when Y/n took matters into her own hands.

Linking her hand around his chin she pulled his face in hers with a deep kiss. Although she initiated the gesture, it was George’s response that made her lose all sense of control. His large hands moved from her face to her waist in an instant. Much to Y/n’s surprise he lifted her without warning, still holding her lips in his, and placed her in his lap so she was facing him. Her hands instinctively switched to wrap around his neck for stability. Fingers gripped at his short ginger locks as she adjusted her hips into his.

Y/n’s heart pounded in her chest as her entire body got weaker. She could only focus on how soft he felt against her mouth, how addictively he invaded all her senses. Everytime their lips met a rush of adrenaline and love ran through her veins. The muscles in her body went limp at his touch, jelly like. George held a tight lock around her waist keeping her steady against him. He slipped his tongue against her mouth, visibly shuddering when she slid her tongue against his in return. Tension was pooling by the second as the kiss intensified. Y/n’s strawberry dress cascaded down the side of legs as she repositioned in his lap earning a groan from George. Hot breath fanned against her face briefly at her movements. His hand darted from the small of her back to the exposed skin on her upper thigh, pushing her further into his body. The vibration of his voice against her lips and the tight grip of his hands on her thighs sent shivers down her spine. His kiss was sweet, like a long awaited embrace. Stars blurred her vision as George gripped her against his chest. The moment was quickly turning into a not so innocent kiss causing Y/n to slowly detach her lips from his. As she pulled away she remained sat in his lap, fingers brushing along the skin of his face as she admired his beauty. A smug smile was displayed on his face while he repositioned his hands behind his body to hold the pair up. Still holding his face in her palms, Y/n pressed forward to scatter a line of kisses on his cheeks. He chuckled in amusement before her kiss latched to his mouth once more. Between short and passionate pecks she fought for words to tell him how much he meant to her. She wanted to tell him all the emotions of love and desire he brought onto her. Tell him how she could never live with another- how he was the only one she wanted for the rest of her life.

“You’re too good to me, George.” She whispered against his lips. The lack of space between them was intoxicating. Heat emanated from George’s cheeks as he desperately attempted to regain his breath and compose himself. His chest was light with air caused by the sweetness of the girl before him. A small smear of glitter lip gloss covered his bottom lip in a shine.

George tasted a hint of bubble gum as his tongue swept along the skin of his bottom lip.

“I’d give you the whole world if I could but I’m afraid I don’t have the coins for that yet, princess.” Pressing his forehead against hers, George hummed the words. Y/n shook her head with a smile as she countered his grand proposition with one of her own.

“All I need is a quaint, cozy cottage out here and you… well a dog or a kitten would be nice too.” She laughed.

George could only stare at her in that moment. Her words registered although the naturalness to her beauty was too much for him to process. The sun hit her back in with such purpose it was as if she were an angel breaking through the sky. Her strawberry midi dress flowed down her sides and pooled in between his legs. Pretty pink satin clung to her form. The sparkling red strawberries fitted her perfectly. The ruffles on her shoulders gave her the look of a cottage princess, a fairy even. Hair flowing freely in the wind, it was a sight he’d never grow tired of seeing. He’d never seen someone as breathtaking as her.

Taking advantage of his silence, Y/n looked up to George in seriousness. His large brown eyes stared lovingly back to her. Gesturing to the meadow surrounding them, Y/n asked him,

“Do you think you’d be happy out here?”

George tore his stare from the girl to scope out the land once more. All the years he spent wandering down here alone in his mind and looking for some sort of answer to life, now he had found it. He could already picture where he would build a playset for the children and where he’d be able to make a small Quidditch pitch to teach your future kids. Ideas were forming for the house and how many rooms you’d both want. George was thinking somewhere around eight- extra room for more kids. Mapped out where the house would go, where he’d build a garden for you, figured out what tree would be perfect for him to put together a treehouse with Fred for the kids, and where the path would go towards the lake. The layout was quickly forming and he wanted in.

Y/n watched in curiosity as the thoughts swarmed through her lover’s head. She could see him intently thinking things over, then smiling before tilting his face back down at the girl. His head moved down so his lips could press against the skin of her forehead as he kissed her.

“Darling, as long as I’m with you, I’ll be more than happy.” He reassured her.

Y/n melted into the warmth provided by his lips. Her body leaned into his, desperate for more of him. George wrapped his arm around her shoulder tightly and fixed his body so he was sitting tall. She clung to his frame like a koala to a tree, burying her face into the material of his hoodie.

“Once I graduate?” Her muffled voice vibrated against his sternum. George ran his fingers up and down her spine as he held her tight.

“Once you graduate.” George repeated sincerely. Although they’d gone over the conversation a million different times, Y/n couldn’t help the shadow of doubts that crept into her mind. She trusted George with all her heart- every inch of her being but they’d be living in two separate worlds for a year and she worried that was something he might not want. Maybe he would realize he wanted to be with a girl his age, or someone older, someone not stuck at Hogwarts. Even without reason for worry, it still came.

Remaining in his hold yet moving back slightly, Y/n’s eyes darted to the flower covered ground. Her fingers ran along the petals absentmindedly as she worked to find the courage to speak. Her shift in emotions did not go unnoticed by the boy. George focused on the look of contemplation adorning her. As adorable as she looked, he hated seeing her in the slightest bit of distress. This went for any situation whether Y/n was stressed about a class, feeling ill, or just sad because she’s hungry, George does everything in his control to fix it for her.

“You’ll wait for me?” The sudden question took George aback. Her tone was a mix of innocence and fear. His confusion arose for the grave manner of her inquiry. Even if her worries were astonishingly unworldly to George, he knew better than to shut down her insecurities brashly. If the topic at hand weren’t so significant to their relationship, he might even crack a joke. However the seriousness in her features was not to be ignored.

George reached out to interlock his fingers through her warm hands. That comforting smile of his graced his face as he brought her knuckles up to his lips and placed a trial of kisses along the bones.

“Of course I’ll wait, love. No other girl I’d want to spend the rest of my life with- no other girl I want to call my wife, the mother of my children. No one but you, my love.” George insisted. It seemed magical to Y/n the way he always knew exactly what to say. Always so heartfelt and honest in meaning. He never told her a lie to make her happy but somehow managed to piece together a perfect string of words to make her whole again. Something in the way he spoke, in his words, it made her believe nearly anything was plausible. Most of all, she trusted him and believed that he had every intention of sticking around, which brought a sneaking grin to Y/n’s face. All those worries washed away at his words. It was a part she loved deeply about him.

The feeling of George’s touch smoothing over the bottom of her pink dress pulled Y/n back to the meadow. The scent of lavender and vanilla wafted past his nose from the perfume he had gifted her for Christmas. His fingers would skim against her bare leg in a teasing fashion as he smirked. Y/n let out a giggle at the tickling sensation of his touch. Her arms wrapped around his neck for support while her bashful grin never ceased.

“There’s that pretty smile.” George remarked with a chuckle. A sense of victory took hold of him at seeing her worries vanish. Arms locked around his neck, Y/n pulled him towards her as her head fell to his chest. Given their limited time, all the couple wanted to do for the next month was be in each other’s arms. George cherished every opportunity he got to hold her, knowing he’d spend the next year missing her everyday. It came in the little things as well like the way her hair always smelled like a basket of delicious fruits, or how she’d hum to herself while they were studying together. He already knew he’d spend most days babbling on to Fred about how much he missed Y/n. Break was almost over which meant the twins would be leaving Hogwarts for good within a few weeks. Y/n dreaded the idea of not seeing George every day, not getting to kiss him or hug him. George hated thinking about having to hear from her through letters and not getting to hear that sweet laughter every day. So for now, all George wanted was to hold his girl and enjoy the excitement for their future he felt budding inside of him.

The colors in the sky were starting to grow brighter by the minute and without saying it, the pair both knew they’d be needing to head back to The Burrow for lunch sooner then they’d care to admit. In the serenity of the meadows the couple found a sense of home. Y/n soaked in their last bits of time in the meadow before George mentioned them heading back. Although neither moved at his words but instead remained holding onto one another.

“I love you, George.”

“I love you more, princess.”

[lifeofkaze]

Fields of Gold

Neville Longbottom x Reader

A/N: Emoji ask game round 2 and you picked 🌾 @nevilles-top. Enjoy, my lovely wifey! Fluffier than I thought it would be, but you know… balance and stuff. 🤷‍♀️

Warning: NSFW, 18+ only, oral f receiving, fingering, unprotected sex (be responsible, lovelies!)

EVERYONE IN THIS STORY IS OF LEGAL AGE AND CONSENTING

Word Count: ~ 3.000 (oops)

Your head was spinning from exhaustion. You couldn’t remember how long you had been staring at the documents sprawled out on your desk, trying to force your tired mind to make sense of the words. The project you had been working on for the better part of the week had to be done by Monday and no matter how tempting the sunlight streaming into your workspace from the open windows was, it was no use; you needed to get this done.

Blocking out the sweet chirping of the birds outside in your garden, you were doing your best to concentrate on your work, but found your thoughts straying time and time again to the beautiful summer day outside. There was nothing more you wanted than lounging in the sun, a cool glass of wine in hand.

You were so caught up in your fantasies about white wine so cold it made the glass condensate, that you didn’t notice the door to your office opening. As a result, your heart almost stopped and you jumped in shock as the strong arms of your boyfriend snaked around you from behind.

“Still at work, dear?” Neville muttered into your ear, his nose nuzzling the crook of your neck.

Breathing deeply to calm your shaking hands, you turned around in your chair to give him a mock reprimanding look. “Are you mad scaring me like that?” you asked sternly, the smile on your face betraying your serious tone, however.

Neville just grinned wickedly and looked over your shoulder at the paperwork in front of you. “Doesn’t seem like you made a lot of progress since the last time I checked,” he mused.

“I’m in a bit of a rut,” you admitted.

Neville hummed in response and pulled you off your chair. “You need a break, love, and I know just the thing for you.” He leaned in to kiss you, but you stopped him by putting a hand on his firm chest underneath his white shirt.

“Tempting, but I really need to get this done,” you sighed wistfully.

The pout Neville put on display was enough to weaken any resolve you had and he knew it. “Trust me, you’re going to like what I have in store for you,” he beamed and suddenly you weren’t so sure you had guessed his intentions correctly.

He pulled you away from your desk and tossed you a light sundress he had held hidden behind his back. “Time to change into something comfortable, daisy. We’re going out.”

*

“Nev, where are we going?” you asked for what felt the hundredth time.

After you had changed, Neville had apparated you to the edge of the forest a few miles from where you lived and you had been wandering under the canopy of the trees for some time now. The path in front of you was speckled with the sun breaking through the leaves and the air smelled deliciously of warm earth and wood.

But the curiosity was eating you up from the inside, giving a slight bounce to your step that you couldn’t quite hide. The satisfied smirk of Neville, who was walking beside you calm as ever, drove you insane.

“Not much further, love, you’ll see,” he reassured you as he adjusted the giant wicker basket he was carrying in the crook of his arm.

Putting his words into action, he suddenly diverted from the trail you had been following, stepping into the thicket and vanishing from sight. With a sceptically raised eyebrow, you went after him, careful not to rip your dress on the protruding twigs and branches.

You already had a complaint on your lips when the scrub suddenly cleared and you found yourself at the edge of the forest. The sight before you took your breath away.

The ground before you fell in a gentle slope to form a shallow natural valley. At the bottom of it was a gigantic wheat field, the ripe, yellow ears swaying gently in the breeze. It seemed to go on endlessly, forming a sea of gold under the deep blue sky.

“Do you like the spot?” Neville asked apprehensively at your silence, but you were to busy taking in the beauty of the place. Flashing him a radiant smile, you grabbed his hand and pulled him along beside you to the edge of the field, your excited laughter ringing in the hazy air.

Poppies and cornflowers were blooming between the wheat plants; Neville bent down, picked a poppy flower and tucked the vibrant red petal behind your ear, planting a quick kiss on your lips in the process.

“Time for a snack,” he grinned at you, making your body tingle with excitement at the prospect.

But once, again, you had apparently misjudged him. Neville turned from you and set down his basket; with a flick of his wand, it opened and a red-and-white chequered picnic blanket, an assortment of fresh fruit and a silver bucket containing a huge, deep green bottle of champagne assembled themselves in front of you.

With another wave, the bucket filled itself with sparkling ice cubes and two crystal flutes appeared in Neville’s hands. He bowed teasingly to you, beckoning to sit down on the blanket; you complied all too willingly.

“I told you, you need a break,” he smiled as he pulled you in for another sweet kiss. “I found this place while I was herb gathering; I’ve been dying to show it to you for the whole of last week.”

He just knew you like no one else did; perhaps even better than yourself. As you enjoyed your picnic with your favourite guy, you felt all of the tension the stressful week had brought with it fall from your shoulders.

The fruit Neville had brought was deliciously sweet and although it wasn’t the wine you had fantasised about earlier, the cold champagne tasted even better, cooling your throat with the gentle tingling of its bubbles.

With the sun burning down on you and your head wonderfully light from the alcohol, you lay on your back and sighed contentedly. You felt a drowsiness wash over you and closed your eyes.

Before you could drift off, however, Neville gently nudged you. You opened one eye again and saw him waving your almost empty glass at you.

“Be a good girl and drink up first, will you?” he laughed.

You propped yourself up onto your elbows and quickly emptied the contents of the delicate flute inside your mouth. You had underestimated the amount of champagne still left however, and quite a few drops of it flowed from the corners of your mouth. They slowly trickled down your chin and finally fell onto the exposed skin of your chest.

You giggled at your clumsiness, but the laughter died in your throat as you became aware of Neville’s changed expression. His gaze had followed the way of the droplets, his usually bright green eyes suddenly dark with desire.

All your weariness instantly forgotten at his salacious gaze, you turned on your side, angling your legs in just the right way to accentuate your curves. Your eyes never leaving his, you brought a hand to your chest, slowly dragging the still lingering drops of champagne across your skin in a deliberate motion.

“Oh dear,” you cooed while innocently fluttering your dark eyelashes at him, “look at the mess I made. If only I had something to clean it up.”

Your teasing whine was enough for Neville. Within the blink of an eye he was on top of you, pushing you down on your back and sealing your lips with a searing kiss. His tongue brushed over your lips but to his surprise, you denied him the entrance he wanted.

He broke away from you for a second and it was all you could do not to moan at the lost contact of your lips. But you had something else in mind.

“Wrong place, lover boy,” you purred over the pounding of your heart. “Try again.”

Neville’s swollen lips curled into a wicked smile. You could feel the heat spread from your chest into the rest of your body as he assessed your face with a wild expression in his usually calm and loving eyes; it made you yearn for his touch even more.

“Very well,” he whispered with a gravelly voice that sent a set of shivers down your spine, “you asked for this.”

You fully expected him to kiss you again, maybe trail down over your neck to find the hot skin between your breasts, but Neville did nothing of the sort. Instead, he ran his thump of the wet trail glistening on your chest with a slight pressure, prompting you to arch your back in his direction.

Ignoring your begging, he licked the champagne of his finger, all the while looking directly on your eyes. He looked so forbiddingly sinful, it made you want to scream.

He grabbed your wrists and pulled you up to get you out of the flimsy dress that was clinging to your skin by now. After he had rid himself of his shirt as well, he pushed you back to the ground, not too gently, but still making sure you didn’t hurt yourself.

He bent over to whisper in your ear, his hot breath ghosting over the sensitive spot behind your earlobe. “You think you can tease me, doll? I’ll show you who does the teasing around here.”

Your mouth went dry at his promise and you bit your lip in anticipation of what was to come.

“Close your eyes,” Neville instructed you. You did as you were told, every nerve in your body alert to the maximum. You gave a little jump as you suddenly felt his lips on your bare stomach, just above your bellybutton.

The touch was gone as quickly as it had appeared; you moaned in frustration but still kept your eyes closed, only to be rewarded with another surprising kiss at the base of your breasts. Another moan escaped your lips as Neville’s tongue traced the outlines of your chest, giving each of your erect nipples a teasing flick before disappearing from your body yet again.

You were burning with the need for his touch by now, but Neville took his time. When you didn’t feel his lips anywhere for longer that what you had expected, you started to fidget around, only to be met with a deep chuckle right beside your face.

“Is my girl growing impatient, huh?”

“Please, Nev, touch me,” you mewled, pressing your thighs together to create the friction you so desperately craved.

He gently pulled your legs apart again, however. “Just wait, darling.”

You groaned in frustration as his hands left your body altogether now. Your eyes were still closed, so you couldn’t hear what Neville was doing, but you heard a metallic clank and a rustle of some sort.

Before your mind could place the sounds, Neville came back to you. You could literally see the dirty grin on his face in front of your inner eye, as he kissed your jawline. His breath trailed down over your neck to your collarbone, where he placed another kiss; he continued that way downwards, his breath ghosting over your skin, only the occasional kiss on the places he knew you were especially sensitive at.

You sighed in relief as you felt his teeth pulling on the fabric of your positively soaked panties, eagerly lifting your hips up to let him pull them off you.

He placed lingering kiss on the inside of your thigh and you wiggled in anticipation of his skilled tongue where you needed it most. But instead, an audible gasp escaped you, as something smooth and almost painfully cold glided over the same spot Neville had just kissed.

Now you knew what the sounds from earlier had been; Neville had equipped himself with some of the ice cubes from the champagne bucket.

“You like that, doll?” he muttered against your thigh, the stubble on his cheeks deliciously scratching the sensitive skin.

The only thing you could manage was a feeble nod and another whimper that quickly turned into a breathy moan as you finally felt the tip of Neville’s tongue on your aching clit.

Good God, this man knew what he was doing; you buried one hand in his hair while the other went to your own head in the desperate need to hold onto something as Neville kitten licked your dripping folds up and down.

The coiled tension in your stomach quickly built up as he continued to lap at you, while he ran another ice cube down the insides of your thighs with the other. The mixture of the heat under your skin and the icy droplets running down your sensitive flesh were enough to drive you insane.

When the ice had melted away, your head started spinning as Neville shifted his head slightly and plunged two of his fingers into you, pumping in and out of you at a steady rhythm that made your hips buck against him. You put one of your feet onto his shoulders to give him better access and had to stifle a cry as he hooked his fingers upward to massage your sweet spot.

It didn’t take long for the knot inside you to burst into a wave of pleasure that took your breath away. Your legs were shaking against Neville’s touch as you relished the high he gave you. You covered your eyes with your hand as stars erupted behind your closed eyelids, painted red from the sun burning down on you.

As you slowly opened them again, you were met with a self-satisfied grin on Neville’s face. His chin was glistening and he casually wiped the traces of you off it with the back of hand; his gaze on you was positively scorching.

“You don’t think we’re done here, do you, flower?” he growled, as he quickly rid himself of the little clothing he had left on his body. “You look way too delicious, being totally wrecked like that by me.”

The combination of his authoritative voice and the hard cock in his hand was enough to replace any drowsiness you felt from your orgasm with the urgent desire to have him filling you up right here and now.

Still sensitive from your last high, you shuddered at the sweet pain as Neville leaned over you, teasingly circling your entrance with the tip of his cock.

“Are you ready for me, doll? Want to make me feel good?”

You wrapped your legs around him and pulled him closer for an answer; you were too breathless for any coherent words anyway.

A groan escaped Neville’s lips and his eyes fluttered close for a moment as he entered you and waited for you to adjust to him.

He started slowly rocking into you, his broad back blocking out the blinding rays of the sun. You quickly found a rhythm that suited you both; it wasn’t as fast and relentless as usual, rather slow and deliberate, but every thrust of Neville’s hips was strong and deep, shaking you to the core.

Your senses were reduced to your laboured breaths, only mixed with moans of pleasure and the feeling of his heated skin under your fingers as you dug your nails into his bare shoulders for support. The world around you started spinning as you felt your next high approach, a whirl of colours of golden wheat and blue sky.

It wouldn’t take you much longer to cum a second time and you clung your legs tighter around Neville, burying your face in the crook of his neck. Without another warning, the coil inside you snapped, flooding you with sweet agony as you trembled in his arms. You weren’t able to form any thoughts anymore, the only thing falling from your lips was Neville’s name over and over again.

The desperate sounds you made and the sensation of your muscles tightening around his cock proved to be too much for Neville as well. With a deep growl, he gripped your arm so hard it almost hurt as his own orgasm shook him; you felt his hips buck against yours as he rode out his high to the maximum.

When your eyes met again, the fire that darkened them before had died down and was replaced by a look of pure adoration and love.

Neither of you spoke for a moment; the way Neville’s lips lingered on yours as he bent down to kiss you lovingly spoke for itself.

He got off you after yet another gentle kiss, falling on his back with an exhausted but content sigh. You snuggled up to him, relishing in the feeling of ultimate closeness you shared.

The two of you lay there for a long time, watching the clouds float in the sky above you until it started turning red, the light of the setting sun igniting the sky into an explosion of orange, pink and red above the golden fields surrounding you.

You were on the verge of falling asleep in Neville’s arm when a sudden thought hit you; you jerked upright. “I got it!” you exclaimed in excitement while Neville raised a wondering eyebrow at you, “I finally know how to finish my project!”

The low chuckle he gave you as he pulled you down to him again filled you with the same explosion of butterflies that had never quite left you ever since you had met him.

“That’s good to hear,” he murmured against your hair. “I knew you just needed a proper break.”

[masterjedilenawrites]

"Youre so full of light, I'm afraid I'll be the one to quench it" with crosshair x reader? is that an option?

Awww yesss, I’m happy to write anything for this grumpy toothpick! 🖤

Crosshair x reader | 2k words

“You’re so full of light... I’m afraid I’ll be the one to quench it” from this prompt list.

Crosshair was avoiding you. That much was obvious.

At first you'd thought he was having a bad day and let him have his space. But then it kept happening. Never looking at you. Leaving the room as soon as you entered. Pretending not to hear your questions. You were back to where you'd started with him, all those rotations ago when the Bad Batch had first arrived on your home world to help drive out some troublesome pirates. He'd been a tough cookie to crack, but slowly, day by day, you'd managed to draw him more and more out of his shell. And the more he did, the more you fell for him.

But now he'd retreated back behind his walls again and you had no clue why. Had you said or done something to scare him? You weren't sure, but you also weren't disheartened. You knew someone as special as Crosshair would take time and patience to bond with. You'd pull him back out eventually, you were confident.

An opportunity came when Hunter announced one day the need for the marksman to scout a nearby pirate camp, located in a clearing just beneath a forested ridge of land. You knew the area yourself and convinced the Sergeant you'd be a good assistant for Crosshair's recon mission. The sniper had had his helmet on when Hunter sent you off with him, so you could only imagine whatever salty expression he sported beneath it.

The two of you trudged along in silence for a while at first. Occasionally you'd suggest a path to take, or he'd caution you from stepping on the more unstable parts of the terrain hidden beneath the underbrush. Otherwise, you let him be, and instead focused most of your attention on taking in your surroundings. Even in the midst of trouble, you still made a point to appreciate the beauty of your planet. The curved and knotted trees, each as unique as a snowflake, with their wide leaves fluttering in the grasp of a stray breeze. The tiny beams of sunlight that sliced through the foliage and illuminated the otherwise dingy forest floor. The echoing songs of the winged creatures that danced above your heads, ignorant to the conflict of the more sentient beings they cohabited with.

Eventually you couldn't help yourself, and you started to hum a song of your own. It was a tune you made up as you went, each note created to express whatever new feeling sparked within you as you ventured further into the forest. You were hardly a composer, and you were certain that even when humming you were off-key, but it didn't matter. The song made you feel light and free, a feeling that was rare but welcomed wherever you could find it.

You realized you were being watched, and turned your head to see Crosshair's worn helmet trained in your direction. He quickly averted his gaze, but it was enough to show you he'd been staring for a while. You hid a smile, not wanting to seem like you were teasing.

"Am I annoying you?"

"No," he said, low and quick. You noticed his grip on his rifle tightened ever so slightly.

"Are there any songs you like? I can try to sing if I know them."

He did not respond, continuing to plod alongside you in silence. Well, at least you'd gotten one word out of him.

You soon arrived at a part of the ridge that gave you the perfect view of the pirate encampment below. You nestled in the crook of a large tree while Crosshair laid himself prone on the ground next to you. He used the scope of his rile to get a better look at the camp, muttering details he thought important while you logged them on a holopad for future strategizing.

"Kriff," he growled. You peered around the trunk of the tree, as if you could see whatever had caught his eye from such a distance. You could only make out little dots of tents and people scattered in the valley below, so you turned back to him for explanation. "Children."

You hummed knowingly, which seemed to fluster him.

"That doesn't concern you?" His scope was abandoned as his helmet lifted to face you.

You shrugged. "What, criminals can't fall in love and start families?"

You couldn't see his scowl but you could feel it. You weren't sure why his grumpiness made you want to laugh sometimes, but you hid your amusement with another shrug, not wanting to upset him further, not when he seemed to be more open to talking to you again.

"Well it's going to make this mission much more difficult," he grumbled, starting to pack up his rile.

"Yeah..." you agreed, but you didn't sound as defeated as he did. "We'll just have to get creative. We'll figure it out."

He was crawling over to your spot behind the tree but paused at your words, his helmet tilting as if in thought for a moment. You raised your eyebrows at him, wishing you could somehow read the marksman's mind. You were certain his thoughts were fascinating; they usually were with the quiet ones.

He settled into the space next to you and fumbled around in one of his pouches, eventually bringing out a couple of small ration packs. You smiled in gratitude as you took the one he offered you. You hadn't realized how famished you'd grown from this outing.

"It's not much," he mumbled as if apologizing. He worked on freeing himself from his helmet and you tried not to stare at the face that emerged from it.

"It's still something," you smiled through bites of... well, whatever it was you were eating. It tasted more like wood than food and you tried to believe it at least had some nutritional value as you forced it down.

Crosshair was shaking his head at your words.

"What?" you asked. He only shook his head again.

You tried to drop it, but your patience was starting to wear a little faster than usual. He was so close to you, and yet he felt further away than ever. You were both angled so that it'd be natural to look at each other, but you could see him purposefully looking anywhere else. You moved your knee experimentally, brushing against his and causing it to jerk away suddenly. Even beneath all his armor you could tell his muscles were tense. Something was clearly bothering him and you hated the thought that you were somehow the cause of it.

"Crosshair," you said, trying to keep your voice soft and non-threatening, but still speaking loud enough for him to know you were trying to get his attention. He reluctantly looked at you, his fingers curling around the rile that lay across his lap in clear display of unease. He almost looked sick. "What's wrong?"

His frown deepened, further than you ever thought possible.

"Cross," you said again, even softer now, scooting yourself just a little bit closer. You felt like you were approaching an injured animal. You needed to be careful if you wanted to help him, lest his suddenly snap and chase you away.

"Nothing's wrong," he huffed, still determined to keep his thoughts private. You didn't move closer, only looked him up and down, trying to figure him out.

"If I did something to upset you," you said slowly, "please let me know, so I can try to make amends. I don't want to be a burden to you."

He sighed, but it wasn't as frustrated or annoyed as it usually sounded. He brought his hands up to his face and dragged them down, slow and forlorn. When he spoke, it was so quiet you could barely understand. "You're not a burden."

You squinted at him, summoning back what patience you'd briefly lost before, waiting.

"I'm the burden," he said a little louder. "You, you're so..."

His eyes cast about the forest beside him, as if he might find the words he wanted painted on the trees. You held your breath, unsure what they could possibly be.

"So full of light," he finally said, allowing his gaze to finally meet yours. "And... I'm afraid I'll be the one to quench it."

You blinked as it became clear to you the cause of his turmoil.

"Your response to everything is positive," he continued rather quickly, as if to get his thoughts out before he could stop himself. "All I see is hardship and difficulty. You sing songs and act like everything is beautiful."

"Most things are," you couldn't help but say, which only caused him to glare at you, proving his point.

"This forest is not," he said. "There are a hundred places someone could've hid and got the jump on us. Those pirates are not... They can have as many children as they want, but they are fools for bringing them along to a raid. These rations are not..."

He threw the crumpled wrapper at you and probably would've continued his ranting had you not let out reached out for his hand and stopped him.

"Okay, okay, I get it," you said with a slight chuckle, only resting your hand atop his, not yet holding it fully. "I'm an optimist, you're a cynic. So what?"

"So..." his voice slipped back into a growl. But he trailed off, unable to explain why it mattered to him that you were so different from each other. You had a guess as to why now; it had become quite clear to you the sniper had feelings for you that were very similar to the ones you had for him.

"You want to know what I think?" you asked with a smile. You waited for his nod to continue. "I think we need each other. I think you need me to ease your worries, show you that not everything is as difficult as you make it. And I need you to keep me grounded. Keep me safe from all the threats I can't see. We make a good team, you and I. That's what I think."

Crosshair looked at you and it was if the walls he'd built up were slowly lowering down again, just as they had when you'd first gotten to know him. The lines on his face, usually so sharp and prominent, softened as your words began to settle within him. You much preferred seeing him like this, relaxed and at ease.

"You won't ever be a burden to me," you said, now letting yourself cross the gap that remained between you, saddling up alongside him so your sides were flushed together and your hands, now holding each other properly, rested on your thigh. "My entire planet is at war. Most of my friends have left or are dead. I don't even have a home anymore. It's going to take a lot more than your grumpy ass to quench my light."

You rested your head against the stiff plastoid on his shoulder. It wasn't comfortable, but it was more to show him the truth of your words. You trusted him. You enjoyed him. You wanted to be close to him.

He didn't say anything, but then again, he was better with actions anyway. After a beat, he let go of your hand and moved to wrap his arm around you instead, pulling you into the crook of his shoulder and placing a toothpick between his teeth with a contented sigh. You let out a happy sound of your own, humming your made-up song as the two of you rested against the tree.

You knew this probably wasn't the end of Crosshair's insecurities, that you had a lot of work ahead of you to continue convincing him that he was wanted and worthy, that you were strong and safe. But it was a good start, and you were more than willing to keep going, knowing the reward of Crosshair's love at the end would make it all worth it.

[fabulouspotatosister]

truth hurts

summary: there are just some things you can’t hide. truth serum does that to you.

word count: 3,452

warnings: minor injury, mentions of blood

gif credit: @lowercasev

a/n(1): hello everyone! i hope you're all having a splendid day, wherever and whenever you are. this is just another one of those "i had a random idea and i wanted to get it out" except the idea is super old and i just wrote it now because i love procrastinating. anyway, i hope you enjoy this fic!

---

I suppose this is what I get for not listening to the Doctor.

 The wound on your ankle was looking, for lack of a better word, bad. While you weren’t a medical professional, there were a few things you were sure of - small cuts shouldn’t bleed so much, small cuts shouldn’t hurt so much, and small cuts shouldn’t be purple.

 You hadn’t meant to wander off. Amy was with the Doctor, talking with the locals of the planet that you had landed on, which left you to watch the TARDIS. As if the TARDIS needed watching, you had thought then. You’d taken a small walk - just a little deeper into the forest you were in, looking at all the strange flowers and trees.

 There weren’t many rules when it came to travelling with the Doctor. Not wandering off was one of them. And no interfering, but was that really a rule? You were a repeat offender, of course - how did the Doctor expect you to just stay still while there were so many extraordinary things to explore? 

 The forest was beautiful. You spent a lot of your small walk looking up at the canopy of trees that let in just enough light to make all the foliage glitter and glow. You were distracted, not really looking at where you were going, and you’d missed the feeling of something scratching against your ankle as you walked. 

 “I guess this is my karma,” you muttered, leaning against the TARDIS. You’d hobbled back when the pain became too much. The wound was pulsing now, beating in time to your heartbeat, a steady trickle of blood finding its way into your shoe. “I’ll listen next time.”

 A sharp call of your name made you look up - the Doctor was there in the distance, smiling so wide it had to hurt. “Come on!” he called, and waved. 

 “Is it safe?” you called back. 

 The Doctor nodded and motioned for you to come over, bouncing up and down like an excited kid. He could be unbearably cute sometimes. (Wait, where did that thought come from?) “It’s fine! Totally safe! Amy’s distracted in the market, I think we should go get her.”

 You looked at the Doctor, then at your ankle, and back to the Doctor. His smile was so earnest, so adorable. Your ankle would probably put a damper on everything, and the Doctor being upset was never a good sight. You were supposed to be having fun. You weren’t going to ruin everything by just having a scratch.

 “Hang on a minute!” You bent down, hidden by some of the shrubs, and rolled down your pant leg. Your wound stung as the fabric brushed against it, and you winced. You stood up, straightened yourself, and gave the Doctor your best “I’m-totally-fine” smile. “Okay, I’m good to go.”

 Your smile must have convinced him, because the Doctor grinned and spun around, disappearing back into the forest. 

 You tried not to limp as you followed him, but every step sent a stab of pain through your entire foot. Just grin and bear it, you thought, taking in a shuddering breath. Do it for him. 

 You pushed through the trees, finding yourself in a little clearing. The whole place felt alive - the trees glowed a warm orange as they swayed in the breeze, and the sound of their leaves rustling together sounded like delicate wind-chimes. Scattered around the clearing were various stalls and booths that were decorated with spools of vibrant cloth. The sounds of lively music and distant chatter filled the air as aliens of all kinds milled about.

 The Doctor was waiting for you, leaning against a wooden pole that held up a string of twinkling lights. Underneath those lights, with his arms crossed like that, he looked quite… quite… 

 You frowned and something throbbed in the back of your head. 

 “Ah! There you are,” the Doctor said brightly. He stepped away from the pole, still smiling widely with that smile of his, and wrapped his arm around your shoulders. Don’t look down, you begged silently. Just ignore me. “Brilliant, isn’t it? One of the legendary Elremian marketplaces. Just huge melting pots of culture, and the best place to find rare collectibles - hey -”

 The Doctor called your name, his voice soft against the din, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Your head snapped up to meet his eyes. Your heart stuttered in your chest at his gaze, his gorgeous green eyes sparkling with worry. (What in the world...)

 “Are you okay?” he asked. He leaned down slightly to peer into your eyes, and you found that you didn’t want to pull away from how close he was. 

 You swallowed. Then, you nodded, and the throbbing in the back of your head turned into a pounding. “Of course,” you said, trying another “I’m-totally-fine” smile. “Let’s find Amy, yeah?”

 That smile wasn’t quite as convincing. The Doctor frowned as he stood back up, his gaze lingering on you for just a second longer before he wrapped his arm around your shoulders again and led you through the crowds.

 “As I was saying - collectibles,” the Doctor continued. Everything passed by you in a blur of vague colors and shapes. The Doctor’s voice was the only thing you could really focus on. “They’ve got everything from jewels to recalled video games, even stuff from archaeological finds if you can barter. Great, yeah?”

 “Yeah,” you muttered. The beautiful lights of the marketplace were so bright now, even though the rest of the sky was already turning dark. “It’s just - it’s loud.”

 “Loud? Don’t worry about that,” the Doctor said, and you caught a faint hint of concern in his voice. “Amy’s not far now. In here.”

 The Doctor pushed back the curtain of a small tent, gently pushing you inside. It was a little better than outside, a little darker and a little cooler. There were candles scattered around the floor, which had to be a fire hazard in a cloth tent, but no one in the tent seemed alarmed.

 “Amy!” the Doctor called, “How’s the shopping?”

 Amy emerged from behind another curtain. She was in a new dress, a tight-fitting neon green piece with a cape that fell over her shoulders and to the floor. It trailed behind her as she walked up to you. “Good! Here’s one,” she said, then spun around and raised her eyebrows. “How do I look?”

 “Bit bright,” the Doctor said, and Amy glared. “Sorry! Sorry. Good. I mean you look good.”

 The Doctor was right. It looked good on Amy, and honestly Amy could make anything look good, but the green was just so bright and annoying against the gentle tapestries of the tent and - “I don’t like it,” you blurted.

 Amy’s eyebrows had practically disappeared into her hair, but she was smiling. “Oh? Well, you’re honest today.”

 “No, no! I mean -” The pounding in your head had started to feel like someone hammering at your brain, chipping away parts that you actually needed. You winced at the pain, and your ankle began to sting again. “No, I think it looks great, I think you look great, you always look great -”

 “Don’t lie,” the Doctor said, moving to stand in front of you. 

 “I’m not lying,” you ground out. The Doctor’s brows furrowed.

 “Are you in pain?”

 “Yeah,” you answered - but if you were hurt they would be so upset and then you’d ruin everything - “Uh, no. I’m fine -!”

 At “fine”, you buckled, your knees giving out beneath you - Amy rushed forward and caught you, gently lowering you into a sitting position on the floor of the tent. 

 “What were you saying about fine?” Amy asked, her hands on your shoulders keeping you steady. “Doctor, what’s wrong with her?”

 “Nothing’s wrong with me,” you ground out, even though your legs felt like jelly and your brain felt like cotton. A sharp pain pierced through your head and you squeezed your eyes shut. “I’ll just - I’ll get up, let me -”

 “No, seriously, don’t lie,” the Doctor said, and rushed to your side. He crouched down beside you, taking your face into his hands, his skin warm against yours. His face was so close to your again, and you could see every single detail, down to the way his lip trembled slightly. He’d always been pretty, but now, looking over you with concern, he was even prettier. How was that possible?

 The words were out of your mouth before you could stop yourself. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re really pretty?”

 The Doctor’s eyes widened. “More than once,” he said, then mumbled something under his breath. “Is that the truth?”

 “Yeah, a hundred percent,” you said slowly, a smile spreading across your face. Shut up, shut up now before you ruin everything! “Super attractive. One might even say hot.”

 “Hot?” the Doctor mouthed in Amy’s direction before he looked back at you. Amy made a face that said not my words. “Right, you told the truth, do you feel better?”

 You let out a breath through your mouth. The cotton was coming out of your ears. That was funny. “Yup.”

 Suddenly, Amy gasped. “Oh my God, Doctor,” she said, her voice tight with fear. She looked up at the Doctor, fear filling her eyes, and reached out to slowly pull up your pant leg. You hissed as warm air met your wound again. “She’s bleeding!”

 Amy cringed and looked away, which meant that your wound was probably looking much worse than before.

 “No,” the Doctor said, breathless. “How long ago was this?”

 Your “I’m-totally-fine” smile was definitely not going to work now. “Just after you left me at the TARDIS, I think. Uh - I wandered off -” The Doctor’s eyebrows pinched, and something welled up in your chest, threatened to spill over. “And I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, please don’t be mad, but I wandered off and I cut myself on something and now I can’t stop talking -”

 “I’m not mad, sweetheart, you’re hurt,” the Doctor said, his voice gentle. “Amy, move her a bit, I’m going to have to take a look.”

 “Sweetheart? That’s nice, can you call me that more often?” Externally, you were smiling like an entire idiot, but internally you were slapping yourself in the face. “I really like it.”

 The Doctor went still for a moment, lips parted in surprise. He glanced at you and smiled, his cheeks a little flushed. “Yeah?”

 You breathed out a tiny laugh. “Yeah.”

 The Doctor whipped his sonic screwdriver out with a flourish and pointed it at your ankle. You winced at the whirring noise it made, and the Doctor shot you an apologetic look. He brought it up, doing the little flick that he always did, and squinted to read the results.

 “That screwdriver thing you do,” you said.

 “What about it?” the Doctor replied, slightly distracted.

 “It’s kinda hot.” Oh my God, please just shut up. “The way you flick your wrist, it’s nice. You’re nice. Everything about you is nice.” 

 The Doctor gave Amy a kind of helpless look. Amy’s eyes were still wide, her gaze still tinged with fear, but she still waggled her eyebrows at him. 

 “Not helping,” the Doctor groaned, and Amy grinned.

 “Definitely helping.” Amy reached out to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. Her lips curved upward in a reassuring smile. “Is she going to be okay?”

 “No,” the Doctor said.

 Amy glared up at him. “What do you mean, no?”

 “Yes, I said no, in the interest of being honest.” The Doctor looked at the sonic again, then tucked it into his jacket. “She’s been scratched by an Iophinque plant, so, one of two things - either it goes away in an hour, or it kills her.”

 “I think I’d prefer the first one,” Amy said. She glanced at you, and smoothed out your hair with her hand. That felt nice too. 

 “Me too,” the Doctor muttered. “Right. I’m going to head out for just a minute. Talk with the locals. Amy -” His face went serious - “call me if the worst happens.”

 “The worst?”

 The Doctor's voice wavered. “You know what I mean.”

 You whined as he stepped farther away, and you swore you could see the Doctor’s face crumple. But then he smiled, a “I’m-totally-fine” smile. “Don’t worry,” he murmured, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of your head. “I’ll be back.”

 “He always says that,” Amy grumbled, watching him run out of the tent.

 “He always comes back,” you told her. She looked at you, her expression unreadable - and then laughed, a little bit amused and a little bit incredulous. 

 “You like him,” she said.

 There was no use hiding it now - the plant that had scratched you had to be some kind of truth serum. It felt a little ridiculous, but there was always space for ridiculous when you travelled with the Doctor. “I do.”

 “Him?” Amy stressed, and you nodded. “Seriously?”

 You nodded again, and the motion made your head spin, your eyes fluttering. “Seriously. He’s just so wonderful, and nice, and - and -”

 “Hey, look at me,” Amy sounded so far away, but there she was, kneeling right in front of you. She patted your cheek gently. “Stay awake. Keep talking. Let’s make this like a sleepover, yeah? Talking about boys. Alien boys.”

 “Alien boy,” you corrected her. “Singular.”

 “Okay, fine,” Amy said, laughing fondly. She shifted, and you tried to focus on the color of her dress. You still didn’t like it, but the neon green was loud enough to keep you awake. “What is it about him?”

 You didn’t have to think much. “He’s - he’s brilliant. That’s what he is. He’s smart, to the point of being a little annoying, and funny, and kind, so kind. So lonely but so kind. And he cares so much. I think it’s beautiful. I think he’s beautiful.” You frowned. “Does that make sense?”

 Amy nodded and smiled gently. “Yeah, I do. You said he was hot?”

 Your frown morphed into a pout. “He is!” 

 “Oh, I know,” Amy said. “Believe me, I know.”

 Silence settled over the two of you. Amy sat with you, a quiet comfort as she stroked your hair. But there was something else you wanted to say, something important, something -

 “Sad,” you said softly. You felt tears well up in your eyes. “He makes me sad. It’s okay, but -” Your breath hitched in your throat. “It’s sad, you know?”

 “What is?”

 “I don't think he loves me back.” The words were out of your mouth now. They crashed over you like a tidal wave, and now that you had actually said them, they felt real. “He doesn’t - oh, God - he doesn’t love me back.”

 Amy shook her head, her hands moving to your shoulders. She shook you slightly and you looked at her, your breathing shallow. Tears were already streaming down your face. When did that happen? “You don’t know that.”

 “It’s okay, it’s okay,” you said. Your words were blending into one another like smudged paint. That was okay too. “I’m okay with it. He doesn’t have to. He - I know he can’t.”

 Amy sighed, sadness swimming in her eyes, and wrapped her arms around you. It was nice, being hugged by Amy, but you definitely weren’t feeling nice - nausea washed over you, and you sagged in her arms. You coughed, and something warm trickled out of your mouth. Spots of bright red.

 “M’sorry,” you mumbled weakly. “Your dress, I got it all dirty.”

 “It’s okay,” Amy said, soothing you. “I haven’t even paid for it anyway.”

 “You know, I still don’t like it.” You coughed again, your chest rattling. “Hey, Amy?”

 “Hmm?”

 You pulled away from her and watched as her calm expression shifted and morphed into one of fear. It must have been bad, whatever you’d coughed up, because Amy’s eyes were the size of dinner plates. It was a little funny, and you would have laughed if your mouth didn’t taste so much like pennies.

 “Got the second option,” you slurred. “I think you should call the Doctor now.”

 You pitched forwards, hanging limply in her arms, your head resting comfortably against her shoulder. You didn’t even hear Amy scream into her phone. But you could feel her shuddering, and you wanted to tell her that it wasn’t worth it, being scared over you, but your mouth was just so full of -

 The Doctor burst through the curtains of the tent, clutching a metal cylinder in his hand. “What happened?”

 “Doctor,” Amy began, “I think she’s -”

 “I know,” the Doctor said sternly. He took you from Amy’s arms and everything seemed to lurch for a moment, shifting until everything went still, and he was above you. Through the cloth of the tent the twinkling lights outside looked like stars. It was the perfect backdrop for him. “I’ve got you.”

 “Yeah, you have.” The Doctor looking down at you, his hair falling over his face, was enough to make your heart clench painfully. Everything else hurt too. “You always have.”

 “I found an antidote, you’re going to be okay,” the Doctor said, pushing your hair away from your neck. Something cold pressed against your neck, and you jolted - you reached up to grab the Doctor’s hand, clammy fingers wrapping around his wrist.

 “Wait, wait,” you said, the words coming out jumbled, “I love you.”

 The Doctor stared. It felt like an eternity under his gaze. His eyes were wide, searching your face for something - proof that you were lying, maybe? He wouldn’t find that anywhere with you, whether you liked it or not.

 “I love you,” you continued, “and I need to tell you before you cure me and I get embarrassed and take it back.”

 The Doctor was still staring, his whole body frozen in place. He blinked once, twice, and swallowed thickly. He was never usually so quiet. 

 The silence was getting to you. “I really want you to say something.”

 “You -” The Doctor let out a heavy breath. “You love me?”

 “Yes,” you whispered. Your vision blurred, putting something that looked like a halo around the Doctor’s head. How fitting. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

 The Doctor laughed softly. His free hand found your face, and he brushed his thumb against the corner of your lip. “You know that’s in bad taste, right?”

 “Definitely.”

��There was a click, and then a hissing noise - something sharp pinched your neck, and you felt a warmth spread over your whole body. It was taking the pain away, you noted dimly, your whole body relaxing even more as the antidote did its work. 

 “Feels nice,” you said, letting your eyes slip shut. “Thank you.”

 “You are very welcome,” the Doctor said gently. Then - “Are you with us, now? ‘Cause I really want you to be awake for this.”

 You quirked one eye open, and the Doctor smiled down at you. This wasn’t your truth-serum addled brain thinking, this was your very love-addled brain thinking - he shone brighter than anything else in the room. Even Amy’s neon green dress. Which you still didn't like. 

“Guess what?”

“What?”

 “I love you too.”

 You spluttered, your face burning despite how tired your body was, and made a noise that was probably the audible equivalent of multiple question marks. 

 All of that doubt and fear - just gone in seconds, wiped away like it had never had been there. Distantly, you could hear Amy sigh in relief, muttering something that sounded like “I said you didn’t know”.

 “Oi, don’t tell me you’re getting shy on me after a confession like that,” the Doctor said, his eyes crinkling. 

 “I was under the influence!” you protested weakly. The Doctor laughed, a sound full of fondness, and brushed a hand over your hair. It made you feel warm, like sitting right next to the fireplace in the TARDIS library. It felt like home. He felt like home.

 "I wouldn't kiss her, if I were you," Amy said. "She just coughed up blood. On me."

 You ran your tongue over your lips, still tasting the blood that was left there, and grimaced. The Doctor mirrored your expression. "Seconded."

 "There's always later," the Doctor said coolly, sending another wave of heat to your face. "You should rest. We'll get you back to the TARDIS."

 You blinked up at him. "You'll be there?"

 "Always." He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. "This'll have to do for now," he murmured against your skin.

 "It's perfect," you whispered, your eyes fluttering shut as a welcome darkness overtook you. You're perfect, you thought, but he already knew that, didn't he?

---

a/n(2): i really hope you enjoyed! i hope you guys are doing awesome, love you lots!!

[maggiec70]

Prince Bagration Makes a Cameo Appearance

Another excerpt from the longest-running histfic draft. This is for Tairin. I hope I did her prince justice, small though it may be.

Jean’s staff found a two-story house large enough for them all in a northern Viennese suburb. General Compans ordered the portly, red-faced owner and his large family to leave, slipping him a fistful of gold coins before he could protest. Mariana couldn’t tell how many coins constituted a fistful, but they produced an incredulous expression on the man’s face and then a deep bow that revealed his blindingly bald, pink pate. There must be a secret source of gold coins that only Compans and Thomières knew about, perhaps hidden away in a sturdy oak box labeled Bribes. She had seen these coins appear whenever Jean wanted to sleep somewhere other than a barn or outside on the ground for several days. She also knew only a very few marshals and generals bothered to compensate the people whose lives they disrupted or even thought to do so.

“Don’t wreck the place,” Compans ordered them after the Viennese family had bustled out the door, their personal belongings tied up in large, unwieldy bundles.

“Why would we?” she asked Joseph as two adjutants added more wood to a fire in the large stone hearth. She wondered how much food she might find in the kitchen cupboards and the spacious pantry leading from the kitchen. Indeed, the life expectancy of the well-fed hens she’d seen in the dooryard was measured in minutes.

“It was a pro forma reminder,” Joseph replied. “We’ve never been a horde of Vandals or Huns, and the marshal knows it.” He grinned at her and stretched so much that he almost slid out of his chair. “I can’t say the same about Prince Murat’s cavalry or anyone in Marshal Augereau’s VII Corps. Now there’s a collection of seasoned plunderers—as bad as one of the plagues of Egypt, but not, I think, as dedicated to looting as Marshal Masséna.”

Later that evening, with a cold November wind safely outside and warmth and food inside, she sipped her second cup of rich coffee laced with cream from the black and white cow standing up to her knees in hay in the barn. “After ages in Purgatory, I’ve been given my reward.”

“Savor your taste of Paradise, Gabriel, while you can. We’re leaving in a couple of days,” Jacques said, unhooking his cloak and shaking sleet from it.

“Why? The Austrians surrendered at Ulm almost four weeks ago, and we’re north of Vienna with no Austrians anywhere that I can see. There isn’t anyone to fight.”

Jacques poured coffee from a porcelain pot and backed up to the fire. “Don’t you read the dispatches, Gabriel?”

“Not often—they’re boring.”

“Well, you should. We hadn’t seen the Austrian army because it left Vienna right before we arrived. Now they’ve gone further north, with General Kutuzov’s Russians.”

“Who’s Kutuzov?” she asked, trying not to yawn in his face. She really should pay more attention to the dispatches and reports. If Jean ever asked her about the campaign's minutia, she had better know enough to answer. She’d seen what happened when an officer couldn’t tell Jean what he wanted to know and didn’t want to subject herself to the humiliation of a profanity-laced public rebuke.

“Some clever Russian general, older than God. He’s heading for Moravia, though, not Mother Russia.”

Mariana remembered Jacques’s words three days later. Ejected from the warm stone house before dawn, she bundled up in her heavy cloak and gloves and rode out of Vienna with the rest of V Corps. Now, close to midnight, she didn’t think Moravia was anywhere close or warmer than Russia. It was full dark when they rode into a tiny hamlet so small they would have missed it if the scouts and leading edges of Oudinot’s grenadiers hadn’t literally stumbled over it. Snow topped with a thin layer of rime covered the cottage roofs, garden walls, the rough pathway serving as a street, and stubble in the surrounding fields. The inhabitants had shuttered every window, but thin cracks of pale yellow light escaped from some of them.

“They’re more afraid of the Russians than they are of us,” Jean said in response to her question. Each word came out on a small puff of white, as her own had done. Soon it might be too cold to talk. “If you looked in those barns, you’d find nothing but old straw. There’s nothing of value in the cottages, either. If the villagers had enough warning, they would have hidden everything, and if not, the Russians have it all now.”

Mariana had never seen a hamlet this small before or so eerily deserted. The barrenness she saw in the faint snow light and that Jean had described made her shiver. This time the cold struck deep in her bones.

“We’ll be sleeping outside, gentlemen, on the other side of Hollabrünn and eating whatever we have with us. It will be a short night anyway—the enemy’s less than six miles ahead.” Jean spurred his horse forward over the little village track, and the rest followed, riding close enough to brush each other’s stirrups. Mariana wrapped the reins around one wrist and massaged her hands and fingers inside her gloves, afraid to take them off. The idea of trying to sleep on the frozen, iron-hard ground was dreadful. If the Russians were so close, and if Jean meant to attack them in the morning, she might as well sit up all night. If she didn’t freeze before dawn, then a brisk encounter with the enemy, even hand to hand, would warm her up nicely. “Aunt Lucrezia, you would be appalled,” she whispered through stiff lips cracked and bleeding from the cold.

Despite her plan to sit up all night, Mariana had just fallen asleep, curled into a tight ball, knees drawn up nearly beneath her chin, when Joseph shook her into befuddled wakefulness. “Get up, Gabriel,” he said, peeling her cloak away. We’re leaving now.”

She staggered to her feet, grabbed her cloak back from Joseph, and buttoned it up tight. “No breakfast?”

“No time for any. There’s a small Russian rear-guard ahead. We have to eliminate it before it reaches Kutuzov.”

Mariana didn’t mind not eating as much as she minded not having something hot to drink. However, the worst prospect was having to do the necessary at the edge of the forest to her left. She still thought it was manifestly unfair that lately, she nearly froze whenever she pissed, while her comrades did not. An inequality, however, that she was powerless to alter one whit.

Having concluded her business in the forest, she hurried to untie Odysseus from the picket line, tighten his girth, and climb into the saddle. She trotted off to join the aides, who waited in a nearly silent group, close together, their horses impatiently stamping the hard ground. Without a word, they swung around and fell in behind Jean and General Compans. She wanted to know how far away the Russian rear-guard was and how many Russians comprised a rear-guard, but she couldn’t make her lips move.

General Thomières saved her the trouble. “Excellency, how many troops does Bagration have ahead of us?”

While she wondered who Bagration was, Jean slowed his horse to respond to his senior aide. “Fewer than I have, even though I’m short two divisions and even shorter of supplies. Neither the weather nor the ground is good for much but a short skirmish.”

The air was so silent and frigid that Mariana heard the intonation beneath his words that often meant more than the words themselves. He sounded confident rather than cocky or foolhardy. A short skirmish, he’d said, and that was fine with her.

The encounter between Bagration’s rear-guard and V Corps’ grenadiers, reinforced at the last possible moment by a squadron of Murat’s heavy cavalry, was not a skirmish. Mariana thought it was more like a brawl in some wayside tavern, loud, fast, and disorganized. It ended before she’d had a chance to do anything and because Bagration told Prince Murat that he had just learned about a truce. The prince believed him, dismounted, told Jean to order his troops to cease fire, and went inside a slightly shell-shocked villa that had been some Moravian aristocrat’s summer home.

“A truce? What the fuck is he talking about? I had the damn Russians on their arses, and he rides in and orders me to stop!” Jean was livid, his expression as hard as granite. Mariana worried what he might do when he jumped from his horse, leaving the reins to trail in the snow, and stomped after Murat. Acting on instinct, aides, chief of staff, and a few senior adjutants closed around him like a protective wall and entered the villa together.

Intended for soft summer breezes, the villa struggled to combat the mid-November cold. Fires burned in hearths at either end of the reception chamber’s black and white tiled floor. Clear glass bottles filled with colorless liquid stood among scores of crystal glasses on heavily carved tables in the center of the room. Someone had shoved chairs and settees against the walls. Officers in uniforms Mariana had never seen before crowded around the tables, opening bottles, pouring liquid into glasses, and handing them around. She watched Prince Murat take a sip, then drain it and hold it out for someone to fill. She watched Jean barrel forward, his expression still thunderous, until a tall officer with the face of a young eagle and enough medals on his chest to blind half a dozen men stepped forward and intercepted him. Together they moved away from Murat and his entourage and stood by one of the double windows, heads bent close together, talking. Another officer approached them, two glasses on a silver tray, and quickly left when they took the glasses and continued their conversation. When Major Guéhéneuc tried to insinuate himself into the conversation, Jean turned on him like an enraged wasp. The major scuttled away, staring at the floor, his face scarlet. Mariana rocked back on her boot heels, a smirk spreading across her face.

As voices rose around her, followed by the rank odor of damp wool and unwashed males, Mariana felt the beginnings of a headache. To take her mind off it, she asked Thomières, “What are they talking about? And who is that Russian?”

He laughed, a soft sound but not derisive. She was glad since she rarely spoke to him at length. “I haven’t the slightest idea what they’re talking about, but that’s Prince Pyotr Ivanovich Bagration the marshal’s talking to.” He laughed again, this time even softer as if he worried someone might overhear. “Talking now, fighting later. Fine looking general, though, don’t you think?”

“Indeed he is,” Mariana said. With his chiseled features and thick, dark hair, the tall, slender Russian looked a little like Jean. Big rooster and bantam rooster, she thought, and almost hooted with laughter. When she could trust herself to speak, she asked, “What’s in the bottles?”

“Vodka. Have you never tasted it?”

“I’ve never even heard of it.”

“Then allow me, lieutenant,” Thomières said and escorted her to the nearest table. Rummaging among the glasses, he found two relatively clean ones and filled them from one of the bottles. “Salut,” he said, threw back his head, and drank it down.

She sniffed at the clear liquid. It had no odor. Since Thomières was still standing, how dangerous could it be? She drank hers in a single gulp, and the alcohol burned all the way to her stomach, where it exploded. Tears flooded her eyes, she sneezed and then coughed. One cough led to several until Thomières pounded her on the back and filled her glass.

“Quick—drink this.”

She did and stopped coughing. This time the vodka felt smooth as silk, and she grinned at the senior aide. “You should have warned me.”

“And miss your reaction?” He filled her glass for the third time, but before she could drink it, four Russian officers joined them at the table, clutching their glasses filled to the brim and sloshing onto their dingy white gloves. Their faces were clean-shaven except for amazingly full side-whiskers, their cheeks brick red in the candlelight. Raising their glasses, they shouted in unison, “Za vashe zdorovye!” When they had downed every last drop, they tossed their glasses toward the fireplace. The sound of shattering crystal brought to a halt every conversation in the spacious room, and then other Russians began throwing their empty glasses to the floor.

“Why not?” Thomières said and threw his glass toward the hearth.

“Indeed!” Mariana replied and threw hers, too.

Whatever Jean and Bagration may have been discussing, or whatever Prince Murat may have believed about the alleged truce, or whatever the French and Russian officers thought about the prospect of imminent hostilities between them, everything disappeared beneath the sharp-edged sound of crystal shattering and the roars of toasts in French and Russian. Mariana linked arms with Thomières to keep from reeling and tried to get her tongue around the consonant-laden Russian words. Somehow, they sounded more satisfactory than light, polite French phrases and better suited to the vodka, of which she had become quite fond in no time at all.

Jean summoned aides and staff officers with a sharp whistle that penetrated the merriment and stalked out of the villa and into the icy, starlit night. The sudden cold jolted Mariana from her torpor, and the sharp air stung her eyes and nose. Her comrades showed similar symptoms of waking from a muddled sleep, and she wondered what might have happened had they stayed and emptied all those bottles.

[dreaming-about-fanfictions]

The Balcony - Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Summary: Of playing games with each other and meeting in your favorite spot in the castle at midnight. 18+

A/N: So tumblr decided to delete my story the last time I posted this -.- So here I go again. Also, fyi, this is my first time writing smut :D Enjoy <3

Words: 3481 Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x female!Reader Warnings: smut smut smut. Princess!Reader (again, lol).

You see him first.

He is standing on the balcony, looking out into the night. His arms are propped up on the balustrade, a glass of wine resting next to him. His composure is relaxed and he seems to feel at ease. An unusual sight.

You know who he is. Everyone does. The Witcher, people had whispered in the corridors, the Witcher is coming. To you, he was nothing more than a myth up until three days ago. Childhood stories, the handmaiden told you, to keep you from running into the woods alone. When you grew to be a woman, you forgot about them, thinking they were a mixture of exaggeration and fear. However, when he walked into the great hall with long strides and planted a kiss on your hand, your impression changed. He is everything they say.  

You observe him, wondering what brings him out here this summer night. The chamber is far away from the guest wing and hasn’t been used in years. You are the only one who still comes up occasionally to sit on the balcony, listening to the howling of the wind and the rustling of leaves from the nearby forest. It comforts you in a strange way, makes you forget your life at court with all its intrigues, politics and bloodshed.

A soft breeze wafts through the room, moving the old heavy curtains ever so slightly. You shiver as your nipple harden against the soft fabric of your nightgown. It is the only thing you wearing. After all, you didn’t expect others to see you.

In this moment, the bell from the high tower sounds. Midnight. It takes you off guard and causes you to breath in sharply. He hears you and tilts his head almost inconceivably. Almost.

You bite your lip, contemplating your next move. The well-behaved royal daughter inside you tells you to leave. Turn around and go back to your room. Fall asleep and wonder if this encounter has only been a dream. The other daughter, the one who sneaks around the castle at midnight, wonders what will happen if you approach him. You decide to listen to her.

It takes you another three seconds to muster up the courage before you start walking towards the balcony, your bare feet making no sound on the cold stone. Outside the wind blows softly and goosebumps appear on your arms – a cloak would have been a good idea. You stand next to him, nervously fidgeting with the cloth of your gown. “Witcher.”

He does not acknowledge your presence, keeping his eyes fixated on the woods. You ask yourself if he sees something out there that stays hidden from you. After a moment, he grabs his wine and takes a sip and carefully places it back on the balustrade. “Princess Y/N.”

You nearly shudder by the way your name rolls of his tongue.

“How did you find this chamber?”

Again, he takes his time to answer. “Couldn’t sleep,” he finally says.

“Doesn’t answer my question,” you respond.

“Hmm.”  The Witcher takes another sip of the dark wine.

Disappointment and confusion dwells up inside of you. He irritates you, as you are not used to people talking to you like in that manner. Or not talking, in his case. Almost pouting you try a third time: “Why did you choose to come up here? There are other balconies, closer to your chambers.”

For the first time since you stepped outside, he looks at you. He’s beautiful. It is impossible to read his expression as he is eyeing you up, his gaze lingering just a moment too long on your chest. Suddenly, you become aware of the transparency of your nightgown and your cheeks flush. You clear your throat nervously and cross your arms.

The corners of his lips move upwards a little and he meets your eyes again. “You’re a curious one, aren’t you?”

“I am,” you reply a little louder than necessary to chase away the nervousness. “More than that, I’m the princess of this kingdom so I can order you to answer me if you choose to stay silent.” In your head, this sentence had sounded strong and confident. In reality however, it has more resemblance with a spoiled, overreacting, defiant child.

The Witcher seemingly has the same impression and raises his eyebrows.

You keep staring at him. It is too late to take the statement back so you might as well go with it.

“Do it then.”

“What?” A little bewildered you uncrossed your arms.

“Order me,” Geralt demands.

“You want me to order you?”

“That is what I said, yes,” he shrugs.

He’s playing with me, the thought shoots through your mind. “Alright then,” you straighten your composure and he mimics it. Now, Geralt of Rivia towers over you. You have to look up to him and the same feeling of irritation that you felt just moments before resurfaces. “I demand to know how you found this place and why you’re here.”

His lips twitch again and you realize, he’s suppressing another smile. “I’m here because I had a hard time falling asleep. In moments like this, I enjoy taking a walk. Instead of going outside, I decided to come here.”

You ponder shortly about the reason for his restlessness. Is it the full moon, shining too brightly, or simply nightmares? Does the Witcher, the Butcher of Blaviken, even experience such a mundane thing as nightmares? Do the monsters and people he kills on his way through the continent haunt him sometimes?

He continues to talk and pulls you out of your thoughts. “As to why I’m here, it’s a more … delicate story,” for a reason unknown, his voice becomes even lower.

You are intrigued. “Try me.”

“I saw this balcony while walking through the forest two nights ago.” A smirk appears on his face.

It clicks right away with you. Oh. Your cheeks flush, embarrassment taking over. You know what he is hinting at and close your eyes to gather your thoughts. Oh no. When you open them again, the smirk was still plastered on his face.

“You don’t know what you saw, Witcher.”

He chuckles. “Oh, I think I do, Y/N.”

There it is again – the shiver running down your spine as he pronounces your name with his sharp rivian accent. Absent-minded, you lick over your lips.

“How dare you watch –“

“I didn’t. Not for long anyways.”

You are doubtful whether to believe him. “You can hang for this.” Factually true. What he did was worthy of the death sentence.

“Princess,” Geralt takes a step towards you. Firewood and leather, you smell and it makes you feel dizzy. He lowers his head, mere inches separating you. “If you want to see me hang, you have to give reason to the king.” Factually true as well. “Please allow me to witness that particular conversation.”

“Fucking jerk,” you blurt out. How does he do it? How does he make you feel like a sixteen-year-old girl who has never talked to a boy before? You are a princess, damn beautiful and even more powerful. No man has the right to take your control away like this and leave you breathless, desperately looking for words. Especially not a Witcher.

He smiles and lowers his head a little further. “I know.”

His lips are now so close to yours they would probably touch when you said another word. You can sense the warmth radiating from his body and his eyes watching you intensly, observing every movement of your face. You are blissfully aware of what he wants in this moment, what he craves. Quickly you become aware that there might be certain things he still has in common with other men and now you are the one with the smirk on your lips. The Witcher notices it, yet reads your reaction wrong and faintly brushes his fingers against the side of your body. It’s all your body needs. A tingling sensation and your breath hitches. He takes it as a another sign and parts his lips and …

… you take a step backwards. As if someone woke him up from a daydream, he regains his composure, a hint of bewilderment running over his face.

“Careful, Witcher,” you reprimand him. “Don’t forget who’s standing in front of you.”

Having the control of the situation was what you wanted – now you have it. Not without shooting him a last mocking smile, you turn around and walk away with your head held high. Left on the balcony in a chilly summer night is a dumbfounded Witcher, watching you exit the room and disappear into the dark corridor.

 *** 

Over the next day, Geralt of Rivia leaves the castle with his bard. He is looking for the reason he traveled to the kingdom in the first time – a beast that already slaughtered half a dozen villagers.

He leaves early in the morning and as you pass him in the hall, you do not look at him. The back of your hand brushes against his, quickly, teasingly, as if you accidentally walked by too close. You feel his eyes on you and smile when he is out of sight.

When he returns in the evening, he announces his success. The monster is dead and the king and queen want to celebrate, so they order the staff to cook the finest dishes and bring out the best wine. He declines but four hours pass and the festivities start. People are dancing, drinking, and his companion sings of the Witchers latest victory.

At one point, Geralt is leaning against a pillar, drink in hand. He watches the crowd, seemingly bored, when his eyes trail in your direction and meet yours. This time, you don’t look away. The music and chatter around you start to blur as the two of you keep watching each other. Your fingers play with the heavy necklace resting against your bosom and he follows them as though he is captivated by the sight.

A glass falling, shattering and spilling its content all over the  ground ultimately brings you back to reality. You break the eye contact and abruptly stand up.

“I’m tired, please excuse me,” you mumble, unsure if someone hears you.

 *** 

One hour later, you are standing on the balcony again. 

When you had left the party you were honest in wanting to go to sleep. So back in your chambers, you changed out of your dress into your nightgown, undid your hair and laid down. However, something keeps you awake and it is not possible to fall asleep. You toss and turn and for whatever reason finally decide to come back up here.

It is not as quiet tonight as you are used to. People from the party keep coming out for a breath of fresh air and guards are patrolling the gardens. You watch them silently.

“Figured I’d find you here.”

You don’t flinch or wince at the low voice sounding from the dark room behind you, having expected him to come here.

The door falls shut and a sense of excitement flows through you. His steps come closer until you feel him standing directly behind you. His hot breath touches the skin of your neck and a shiver runs down your spine.

“Why did you choose to come up here? There are other balconies closer to your chamber,” Geralts voice is nothing more than a whisper.

You smile softly. “Couldn’t sleep,” you murmur, repeating his words from last night.

“Hmm…”

His hand is resting on your hip now, only the thin fabric of your gown separating him from your skin. The touch makes your heart pound faster and the same tingling sensation, you had felt before, appears.

“Y/N,” he whispers in your ear. “Tell me, I’m not reading this wrong …”

“This?” 

With a swift movement he spins you around and presses you up against the balustrade. You draw a sharp breath of air in surprise and are not sure if it’s the cold metal from his belt that causes your nipples to get hard or the way his hands hug your hips.

“This,” he repeated himself, his voice hoarse and his eyes as dark as the night sky.

Maybe it was the way your lips parted or that you tilted your head or how you moved your hips forward slightly – either way, Geralt realizes that he is not reading anything wrong at all and kisses you. 

Finally.

The kiss is rough and demanding and you feel the need to grab him by his jacket to hold on to him. One of his hands cups your face and his tongue slips in your mouth. He is possessive and you feel as if he tries to claim you, tries to make him his. Suddenly Geralt lifts you up onto the balustrade and you immediately wrap your legs around his hips, pulling him even closer. The ground is thirty feet beneath you and you do not care for dying this way.

“I got you,” he whispers and groans when you grind your hips against his. “I won’t let you fall.” 

He begins kissing down your neck, sucking on the soft skin. It will leave marks, you are sure of it, yet it doesn’t matter. One of his hand reaches your breasts, his thumb flicking over your hard nipples, and you sigh heavily as he plays with them.

“This gown,” he is out of breath when he speaks, “… it drives me crazy.”

You chuckle. “I know…”

A gasp leaves your lips when you hear the loud sound of fabric tearing and feel the wind on your bare skin. He kisses your collarbone and travels down further, his tongue reaching the delicate skin of your breasts, caressing your nipple playfully before closing his mouth around it.

You moan and your head falls back, eyes closed, and then you start pushing his jacket from his shoulders. You want to feel his skin too, touch it, kiss it. When it falls to the ground, you tug at his shirt, your hands sliding underneath it. It’s not enough, you think or maybe you say it out lout because you feel Geralt smiling against your skin.

You grab his belt, opening it, breathing heavily and letting out soft whimpers as he bites and sucks on your skin. When the pants finally spring open, they free his impressive length and the sight of him, hard and dripping for you, makes you shudder. You reach for it, enclosing it, slowly moving your hand up and down. Geralt groans deeply and pulls away to meet your lips. He holds you tightly as the kiss hastens together with the movements of your hands. Your insides twirl at the sounds he makes.

“I need you…” The expression on his face is pure bliss. Eyes closed, mouth opened slightly. 

He is a sight for the gods.

“Then take me, Witcher.”

He doesn’t ask a second time and positions himself in front of your wet and throbbing cunt. His hot shaft against your skin, he curses when he feels how wet you are, and every fiber of your body wants him – wants him deep inside of you, filling you completely, fucking you until you forget your own name. 

When he finally does, he is not gentle. He enters you with one hard trust and a loud moan escapes your lips. He stretches you far, so far, it almost pains you – and yet it is the most delicious pain you ever felt. You pull him in for another kiss, swallowing another curse from his lips. The moment he starts moving, pleasure overcomes you like a wave and you bite down on his lips so hard you are scared it draws blood. Geralt slides in and out of you, pressing your leg, forcing it to spread open even wider. You gasp at the new angle and your muscle clench around him. The two of you are panting heavily, groaning and curses fill the silence of the night.

It doesn’t take long and you feel a familiar heat start arousing in your body. Spots appear in front of your eyes and you scratch his back in an attempt to feel him closer to you.

“Oh, fuck – you fill me so good!” You are so close, so damn close – 

The Witcher stops moving abruptly and you whimper, demanding to know what he think he’s doing. He doesn’t give you an answer and instead places a hand over your mouth.

“Quiet,” he murmurs into your ear between heavy breathing. “There are people outside.”

Only now you hear them talking, merely a few feet beneath. Guests from the festivities, you figure. Frustrated, you try to bite his calloused fingers covering your lips.

“Ah, Princess,” his hoarse voice in your ear makes you twitch and as you roll your hips against him, his breath hitches. “You don’t want them to see you like this, do you? Hot, sweaty, filled by my thick cock –“

You moan against his fingers.

He looks at you in surprise, a teasing smile on his lips. “Or maybe you do?” Slowly, he begins to move again. The pace is pure torture and your hips rock up, begging him to take you. He moans in your ear. “Does it turn you on, Princess? Letting me fuck you like this, making you beg and quiver underneath me and for the whole world to see?” Every other word is punctuated by hard thrusts and your whimpers.

“Is this why I saw you touching yourself three nights ago?” Geralt fucks you harder and faster, the sound of naked bodies smacking against each other filling the air. You don’t think it’s possible but his words make you even wetter, your slick juices running down your leg. 

“Who was the man you thought about when I saw you, Y/N?” Now it’s not a simple question anymore, it’s a demand. “Who made you cum like that?” He is ordering you to answer him and it turns you on beyond imagination.

He removes his hand to steady himself on the balustrade and you moan so loudly that if anyone is still standing underneath the balcony, they definitely heard you now. However, your mind isn’t occupied with that particular concern.

“You,” you admit breathlessly. “I thought about you … touching me … taking me …” It’s the truth. It was the day you met him for the first time and the handsome Witcher wouldn’t leave your mind. So you came up here, unaware someone was watching you. When you touched yourself that night, you thought about what he would do to you. How he would take you, where he would kiss you. Yet, your imagination did not even come close to the way he feels inside you right now.

“Gods,” he groans, losing all control, fucking you violently, taking you as he pleases. You repeat his name over and over again, begging him not to stop, to never ever stop. Then your legs start shaking and you hear him calling out your name before you come all over his cock, muscles clenching around him. A wave of heat and pleasure hits you, taking over your body and mind and you cling onto him desperately, his name still on your lips. He follows shortly after, cursing and releasing himself inside of you.

Your breath trembles as you ride out the last waves of your orgasm and he keeps holding you close and safe in his arms.

After a few seconds or minutes, you truly are not sure, you plant a soft kiss on his shoulder. Geralt looks up, his breathing slowing down, and he pushes a strand of hair out of your face. A smile appears on his face. “I must say, I’ve come to understand what you like about this balcony.”

You snort. “It’s still my balcony,” you claim cheekily.

“Maybe the princess is kind enough to let me visit some times.”

“Maybe,” you lean in for a last kiss. It is sweet this time. Sweet and – in a way – loving. “If you behave yourself.”

“I’ll do my best,” he promises. Then he carefully pulls out of you and you sigh softly before you slide down the balustrade.

Geralt dresses himself, picking his jacket up from the ground, but when you attempt to do the same you see what is left of your dress. It isn’t much. “How am I supposed to get to my chambers now? Naked?”, you propose sarcastically.

His eyes travel up and down your bare skin at the question as he buttons up his pants and he licks his lips. “Maybe not at all,” he suggests seductively, a teasing smirk on his lips and you both laugh when he lifts you up and carries you inside the chamber.

Nearby, the old bell in the high tower sounds. Midnight.

***

For the sake of the story, imagine the balustrade of the balcony to be rather wide :D

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