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sephirthoughts · 5 months

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Vincent Got a Phone

rating: not explicit yet

they will fuck eventually i swear

tags: valenwind, cid/vincent, fluff, humor, background sephiroth/cloud, background aerti

link to prev chapter at bottom

Chapter 3: Because Men

It was just after sunset, and Cid was strolling down the bustling street with his good hand in his pocket, and a cigarette in his mouth. He was feeling inexplicably down, since the other day, when Vinnie knocked him on his ass, and then Tifa and Yuffie told him about Vinnie and Aerith’s secret relationship.

He sighed, ejecting a plume of blue-white smoke with his breath. He guessed he should be happy for his buddy, finding a pretty girl who liked him, but he just couldn’t shake the feeling of intense repulsion, to the idea of Vincent dating Aerith.

Of course, he didn’t stop to question whether he only felt that way because it was that specific girl, or if he’d feel that way about Vincent dating any girl. He just assumed it was probably because the two really didn’t seem like a good fit, like Tifa and Yuffie said.

As for talking to Vinnie about it…he’d agreed to give it a whack, but this type of thing was just about as far out of his wheelhouse as it got. He’d always been focused on his work, and never got past a date or two with any woman, before he got bored, or went heads-down on a project and forgot about them entirely.

The closest thing he’d ever had to a relationship was with his cradle-to-grave, ride-or-die platonic life-partner Shera. Come to think of it, maybe Shera could help. She had more girlfriends than you could shake a stick at, she had to know more about this shit than he did.

“I have no clue how to talk to heteros, those people are freaks,” she said, when he called her. He could hear thumping music in the background and a crowd whooping and cheering. “All joking aside, if you really think your boy is making a bad decision, you gotta be honest with him about your concerns. But you have to be prepared for him to push back. People don’t like to be interfered with, when it comes to romance. Hang on. Baby, there you are! Are you ready to—yeah, I’m coming, just a sec! Cid? I gotta go. Just be honest, ok? Especially with yourself. Love you. Bye.”

Cid stuffed his phone back in his pocket and leaned on a nearby wall, puffing disconsolately on his cigarette. As he did, he happened to glance over and catch a flash of golden-blonde hair, across the street. Sure enough, it was Cloud. He was typing on his phone, and it was too far to call out to him, so Cid kept smoking his cigarette and waited.

When Cloud looked up, Cid tried to wave to him, but the young man was directly accosted by a group of scantily clad women, and didn’t see him. After brushing the ladies off rather brusquely, Cloud turned around and walked in the door of the place he’d been standing in front of. The Ramblin’ Rose Love Hotel, to be exact.

Cid stood there scratching his head. Now, what would their resident clueless virgin be doing going into a shady-ass place like that? Usually folks brought hookers back to those places, but he just couldn’t see Cloud doing something like that.

So…he must be meeting someone. Damn. Was there something in the water? Everyone seemed to have the spring fever, all the sudden.

Cid flicked his cigarette butt away and walked off down the street, about ten seconds before an extremely tall and broad-shouldered man, in a large, black, hooded overcoat, came up the street and entered the Ramblin’ Rose Love Hotel.

Oblivious to any potential pursuers, Vincent and Aerith once again departed the group’s hotel, in one another’s company. Aerith had the ingenious idea of renting a room in a karaoke bar, which was both private enough that they could talk freely, and not so private that it would cause proper old man Vincent to panic, and so that was where they went.

Presently, they were seated on the long, red couch, under the disco lights and the colorful illumination of a neglected video screen, proclaiming ‘Mega Karaoke!’ in big, bright letters, interrupted by an animation of dancing microphones, every few minutes.

“Today’s lesson: talking,” Aerith announced.

Vincent crossed his arms. “I know how to talk.”

“How many words have you said to him—”

“Thirty-three.”

“—today.”

“Oh. I thought you were going to say this week. Today…two.”

“Bearing in mind that grunting does not count as a word.”

“…”

“That’s what I thought. Here’s what the sisters and I think is the core of the issue, Vincent. You are the type of person who doesn’t talk much, due to a whole big ball of social anxiety and self-esteem issues. However, you are also the type of person who is extremely good looking, and because of that, other people don’t see you as the awkward anxiety-ball you are. Your weirdness actually makes you seem aloof and a bit cold. Like you don’t care about anyone or anything. We think that may be hindering your progress with Mr. Highwind.”

“I seem cold?”

“Yeah, kinda. I mean, not to me, because I understand how you are, but to other people.”

Vincent scowled and hid in his cloak. “I don’t know how to not seem cold. I tried your advice, and I couldn’t do any of it right. Maybe I’m better off not trying to connect with another human. I only make a terrible mess of things.”

“No, no, no, don’t give up, now!” Aerith urged. “We’ve made so much progress!”

“I frightened him, injured him, and nearly burned the hotel down, trying to bake cookies. How is that progress?”

“It’s personal growth! Getting out of your comfort zone and trying something new is the hardest thing in the world, and you did it. Whether or not things work out with Mr. Highwind, I’m really proud of you. And I’m grateful to have got the opportunity to know you, and become your friend.”

“I…I am, as well. Even if the advice hasn’t quite panned out, you encouraged me to come out of my shell. More than that, you made the effort to get to know me, when everyone else is either afraid of me, or doesn’t think I’m worth their time. You are a good person, Aerith. I am truly grateful for your friendship.”

“Awwwww, Vincent!” Aerith laughed, then she burst promptly into tears and threw her arms around him.

Just as she did, the door to their karaoke booth banged open. They both leapt to their feet, only to see Cloud stumbling backward into the room, looking very much like he’d been pushed by someone in the hall.

“Cloud?” Aerith said.

“Gah!” Cloud yelped, spreading his arms out in front of the open doorway, as if to hide someone. “I can explain! It’s not what it looks like!”

The other two looked past him, then back at him. The hallway was empty. If there had been another person there, they had already vanished.

Sensing their confusion, Cloud turned and peered out the door, then stepped all the way in, letting it swing shut behind him. “Aerith? Vincent? What are you two doing here?”

“Us? What are you doing breaking into other people’s booths and acting like a lunatic?” Aerith countered. “Who were you with? Why were you trying to hide them?”

“N—no one. I wasn’t with anyone,” Cloud said, laughing nervously. “I was just…I was talking to the waitress, and I tripped. And fell into the door.”

Aerith and Vincent both crossed their arms.

“You tripped,” Vincent said dubiously.

“And fell into the door,” Aerith said, even more dubiously.

Cloud nodded. “Yep. Yes. That’s what I did. You know me. Clumsy Cloud.”

“It was closed all the way,” Vincent pointed out. “How did you turn the knob while tripping into it?”

“I must’ve grabbed it to stop myself. You know, it’s all kind of a blur. Just out of curiosity, are you guys here by yourselves, or are there, like…other people from the group lying in wait, nearby?”

“Lying in wait?” Aerith asked. “What are you, on the lam?”

“You’re behaving strangely,” Vincent observed. “As if you have something to hide.”

“No, no, it’s nothing like that,” Cloud assured them. “I was just, uh. Startled. To run into you guys, out of nowhere. Also, you never answered my question. What are you doing here?”

“Karaoke,” Vincent said grimly.

“Obviously. What else would we be doing at a karaoke bar?”

Cloud squinted doubtfully at Vincent. “You sing?”

Vincent’s crimson and gold Chaos eye glowed ominously in the disco-ball lighted half-dark. “Yes.”

“Vincent happens to have a lovely singing voice, not that it’s any of your business,” Aerith sniffed. “But you’ll have to hear it some other time. We were just leaving.”

Cloud looked back and forth between them, then crossed his arms. “Wait a minute, is there something going on betw—”

“Think carefully before you finish that sentence,” Vincent warned, laying his hand on Cerberus.

Aerith put her hands on her hips. “Vincent, what did we say about violence as a first resort?”

Vincent sighed and took his hand off the gun. “Only when they have it coming.”

It was fortunate that he didn’t have his hand on his weapon anymore, because at that moment, the door banged open again, and two people burst in, one of them shouting, “Ahhh-ha!”

Cloud, Aerith, and Vincent all turned, to see none other than Tifa and Yuffie. Both young ladies stopped short, looking confused, and Yuffie dropped her pointing finger.

“What are you doing here?” Tifa asked, meaning Cloud.

“Karaoke,” all three answered in unison.

Yuffie squinted doubtfully at Vincent. “You sing?”

“We’ve already been through this, Vincent has a lovely voice, et cetera,” Aerith cut in. “What are you two doing here, now?”

“Also Karaoke,” the two newcomers answered.

Vincent looked around at the group, from behind his collar. “This situation is ridiculous. I’m leaving,” he said, and walked past them, out the door.

“Yeah, me too,” Cloud added, following him. “D—does anyone know if the doors on these rooms lock?”

Back at the hotel, Vincent ran into Cid—not literally, this time, he’d learned his lesson about that—coming down the path, in front of their rooms. He winced at seeing Cid’s arm still in the sling and lowered his head, thinking to let the man pass by.

“Hey, Vinnie, there y’are!” Cid said affably. “Feel like a drink?”

Vincent nodded, as an intense feeling of relief welled up in him, to find his friend behaving normally. “Yes. Yes I do.”

“I never seen him with anyone, so I can’t say who he mighta been meetin’ there,” Cid was saying, after they’d been seated at the hotel bar, with tumblers of whiskey in front of them. “It ain’t the kinda place you bring a respectable lady.”

“He can’t have stayed more than a couple of hours,” Vincent said. “I just saw him at the Mega Karaoke, acting very strangely.”

“Uh. Mega Karaoke?”

“Yes.”

Cid squinted doubtfully at him. “You sing?”

“No. Aerith and I went there to…talk about something, privately. Which did not work out, at all. Somehow, nearly everyone we know arrived and barged into the room, during that one hour.”

“Y—you went there to talk privately, with Aerith?”

“Yes.”

Cid swallowed the rest of his whiskey in one go. “So, speakin’ of Aerith. There, uh…there anything you wanna tell me?”

Vincent froze, with his hand on his glass. How the hell did Cid know what he’d been talking about with Aerith? Did someone overhear them, and tattle? He wouldn’t have thought so, a week ago, but the bizarre behavior of their group in the past few days had him feeling like they were all in a slapstick comedy, set in a high school. Well. Fuck it. If Cid already knew, there was no point attempting to deny it.

He nodded slowly. “There is something I want to tell you. But I don’t think this is the right place to talk.”

About ten minutes later, they were strolling through the completely deserted hotel garden, which no one but Vincent ever used at night, chiefly because it was very dark and a little creepy.

“So, here’s the thing about relationships,” Cid said, much to Vincent’s relief, as he had no idea how to open such a topic. “Sometimes, just cause someone’s good lookin’ and fun to talk to, don’t mean the two of you’d be any good together. Ya gotta be sure it ain’t just, like…infatuation. Those kindsa feelings go away pretty quick. If you act on ‘em, before you’re sure it’s more than that, people could wind up gettin’ hurt.”

“But what if you’re sure it’s more than a passing infatuation?” Vincent asked. “What if you know it?”

Cid puffed thoughtfully on his cigarette. “Even then, there’s people who’s good for each other, and people who ain’t. Like, say, people who are different ages and got different kinds of lives. They likely ain’t a good fit, in the long run. No matter how good it feels at the beginning, one day, those cracks’ll start showin’.”

“I disagree,” Vincent said flatly.

Cid blinked. “Ya do?”

“Yes. I don’t think things like being the same age and having the same life experience are all that important, in the grand scheme of things. The important thing is finding a person who…who feels like the missing part of you. Like you could spend every day with them, forever, and never get tired of them. When you find that person, it isn’t something to take lightly, or to give up on, just because of what might happen in the future, or because of what others might think.”

“Shit. The missing part of you…” Cid trailed off, looking dazed. “Ya really feel that way?”

Vincent took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Yes. I do. I’ve felt that way for a while, but…I didn’t know how to tell you.”

“I guess if that’s how ya feel, then that’s that.” Cid flicked his cigarette away and pushed his hands back through his hair, then rubbed them together in an agitated manner. “Look, I’ll always support ya, Vinnie, and I just want you to be happy, so…I’ll learn to accept it. But I might need a little time. I—I can’t talk about this, anymore. I gotta go clear my head. Give Aerith my best.”

With that, Cid walked off, leaving Vincent standing in the inky-black shadows of the hotel garden, alone.

He’d felt the rejection coming, since the conversation started, but he had no idea why Cid should become more upset, the more they talked. Now, it seemed as if he’d lost his best friend, and the man he’d fallen for, all at once. Dejected and disoriented, he went back to his room, shut off all the lights, closed the curtains, and slid under the bed, to try and sleep off the pain.

Cid, meanwhile, was walking briskly, without a destination in mind, unable to shake off the intense feelings of loss and disappointment, that had nearly crushed the air out of his lungs, when he heard Vincent say Aerith was the missing part of him.

Why should hearing his best friend say something like that about a woman be so painful? He had no clue. He only knew he’d had to either escape, or implode, so he chose escape. And drinking. Some things could only be properly examined from the bottom of a bottle. He found a different shithole bar than the shithole bar he and Vinnie had been in, earlier, and opened a tab.

A few drinks in, he wasn’t feeling any better, and was in fact, feeling much worse. All he could think about was Vincent with that pretty, young girl, holding hands and laughing (her laughing, that is, Cid doubted Vincent was capable of such a thing), being ‘together’ the obnoxious way couples are, when the relationship is new.

Tch. When the shine came off that apple, don’t expect ol’ Cid to be around to pick up the pieces. Cause he damn well wouldn’t. He’d be hangin’ out with someone better, who wouldn’t run off after the first pretty skirt that wandered by, and leave their best friend all alone, to nurse his broken heart over a bottle of cheap ass whis—wait a goddamn minute, broken heart?

“Oh,” Cid said, staring wide-eyed into middle distance, as he quickly reexamined everything he believed about himself. “Fuck.”

THE AUTHOR HAS SOMETHING TO SAY

sephiroth: (waiting in the next karaoke booth) that little brat better get his ass in here soon

sephiroth: ...

sephiroth: i can't believe they don't have "i'm just a girl" what the fuck kind of place are they running

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frozen-snowflakesandsunflowers · 1 year

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Frozen Fever: Elsa's flower mystery: Part 2

I've been thinking about what Elsa's flower is called ever since the short came out. But I never came round to a conclusion nor did I break it down. In part 1, I started seeing the possibilities of six petals pink flowers such as stargazer lilies and river lilies etc. but although they are similar, they're not quite exact or as close to the flower we see Elsa use on her attire. But now I'm going to narrow it down further by looking at flowers in Norway. Sunflowers are in Norway too so Elsa's flower must also be in Norway too and it's the summer so these flowers of Elsa's must also grow in the spring and summer.

Here's a reminder of what Elsa's flowers look like in the vase before she puts them on her attire:

So I've searched up pink flowers in Norway and none of the flowers I've seen look even the slightest closest to Elsa's one. So now then I start looking for red flowers because these flowers look closer to red than purple. But then again nothing.

But taking something away from my research in part 1, the results were mostly of different kinds of Lilies. So that gets me digging for lilies in Norway and then I find this:

Red Asiatic lily.

This lily is red but also comes in pink as shown on the right. Below the flower multiple leaves spiral around it that look like flowers. But it doesn't look close to it.

The flowers we see in Frozen Fever are actually smaller and have slightly straight petals and a small center in the middle. And also though they are small some can be tiny.

So then I do a much smarter thing which I should've done in the first place lol. I do a visual search. I go on Google photos and click the lens which puts the image in the Google search bar in images and finds images that are close to the photo. The results are as below:

Soiree Kawaii aka Vinca (Catharanthus)

It's possible that the flowers shown in the short didn't actually have 6 petals but 5. The leaves too also make a similar flower shape though they're bigger than the flowers. The only other difference is that these flowers don't have printed tips but rather rounded ones and I don't think they grow in Norway.

Ceratopatalum gummiferum Albery’s red

These flowers also have 5 petals and are 'red' and have 3 pointed leaves rather than 6 like Elsa's but they do match closely with Elsa's flower. In fact it's the closest result I've seen yet. This too doesn't seem to grow in Norway.

Christmas Cactus

Though the flowers look close, the leaves are definitely not it.

Azalea starstyle pink

These are close but not quite there. The pink petals are much more than 6. Though they're quite cute and pink it's not the one.

So in conclusion, hehe I don't know what the flower is exactly. There are some 6 petal pink/ red flowers but they don't match up exactly or as close and not do the 5 petal ones. Some are close and some are not so. If there ever is an opportunity to ask a question to any of the Frozen team, I'll definitely ask this question to put a lid on this full filling jar of mystery. If you guys have other alternatives to what Elsa's flower is please do let me know. All I can conclude is that it's most likely a type of lily.. unless all lilies are big in which case then, I have no idea what it could be.

Sorry for the disappointment but at least we got some options to what it could be. We did get somewhere. But I think for now this is to be put on pause until we get closer to the actual flower. Tangled's flower looks identical to a stargazer lily so I'm certain Elsa's flower isn't that. For now I'll put this topic to rest unless I come closer to finding out what to do and I'll make a part 3 which will be linked here.

#frozen #elsa #anna #frozen fever #frozen 2 #frozen 3 #disney frozen #disney #lily

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chitin-armor · 1 year

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The Call of the Wild

An ex-Gym trainer, her Tyranitar, and two months in the wild, alone. Sometimes, you need to run away to find what you were really looking for.

A gift for @tyranitarkisser.

◇◇◇

Sometimes people needed to run away. Some people did it for spiritual reasons, others to escape the law or a bad family. Some of them did it because there was a call inside of them that insisted they go anywhere but the place they were in search of something else.

She'd run away because for months, that call had built inside of her like a pot about to boil over. One spring day, she takes all her vacation time at once, checks her team into the closest Center, tells her friends and family she would be back later, and just starts walking. Maybe it's a silly passing fascination that she'll regret once she's out in the wilderness. Maybe it's because she's never taken a trip to somewhere far off and tropical like Alola before throwing herself into the gym circuit, and now all that wanderlust is bursting out all at once in a springtime fervor.

Either way, she hears the hunger inside her and obeys the call. She's gone and she's free, with the wilderness stretching out in front of her. Free, the way she's never been while grinding the gyms or after she'd failed the League and settled back in to train the newbies. Her job as a Gym trainer is satisfying. It's fulfilling. This far along the circuit, she gets the good trainers, the ones who really meant it. But it's not free, and part of her still calls for the wild the way it calls for her.

Well, she's checked almost all of her team into the Center. She rubs her thumb over the surface of the last ball on her hip as the cab rumbles beneath her, its painted surface long since worn silver from top to bottom. Not him, of course. Never him. Leaving him behind would be like casually leaving a few of her senses at home and wandering away blind and deaf. Besides, there's no better way to walk into the wild than with the king of the mountains by your side.

The taxi drops her off at the side of the road. It was already getting dark.

"You sure? This is as far as we go." The cabbie grimaces at her. "Not a lot of ways back home."

"I've got a friend," she assures him. When his headlights were nothing but a yellow pinprick in the distance and the whine of the Volbeat started up again, she presses the button on the ball. Her thumb slips easily into the groove she's worn into it, and her best friend glows to life, shaking his magnificent armor with a rattle. When he sees that they aren't at the Gym and that it was nearly nine at night, he swings his head towards hers and rumbles a question.

"We're running away," she proclaims, but even as she says it, the words suddenly seem a little silly. His grayish-green eyes, like river stones, search hers, waiting for an explanation. "I just- I needed to get away. I need something else, even if I don't know what it is yet. And I didn't want to be alone."

His rumble drops to a low, worried croon. She's known him all her life, grew up alongside him, so she can practically hear the words. Just because he doesn't speak like she did didn't mean they hadn't formed their own language out of touch and sound and knowledge.

"Nothing happened, bud. It's just. I don't know. I- I don't know."

She's miles away from home, on the side of a road in early spring with only her leather jacket, and it was getting dark. She's booked two months off work and now all she had was a backpack full of supplies. What was she doing? Had she caught some sort of spring fever that drove her to madness?

Tyranitar huffs and leans down, pushing his heavy head against her shoulder. His eyes are soft. She wraps her arms around his broad neck and holds on tight, only noticing now that she's shaking. From cold or fear, she's not sure anymore. Her words come out as hiccups. His skin is warm, and the blue of his belly nearly hot. That was where his armor was thinnest. If she poked him there, he laughed like tumbled gemstones clinking against each other.

"I don't know anymore," she gasps. "What am I doing? I have a good job. I was doing fine. Nothing happened. Why did I run away?"

Tyranitar's claws gently scratch at her back, careful to slip under her jacket so he wouldn't mar the leather. The thoughtfulness of the gesture pulls her out of her spiral, and she rests her head against his shoulder, breathing in the scent of him. Earthy and stony and warm, like a smoldering fire in a deep cave.

Not many people knew that Tyranitar ran warm. Hot, even. Stone, soil, and the secret ingredient, high-quality coal, all melted down in the great engine of their hearts to create more than enough heat to warm her on this early spring night.

She relaxes into his embrace and rests her cheek against his shoulder. She'd made her decision, and good or bad, she'd stick by it. You didn't raise a Tyranitar by backing out as soon as it got rocky.

"I may have gone insane," she confesses. "But I booked two months of vacation, and I fully intend to use them. So, big boy, what do you say? Do we want to run away together and look for whatever made me go crazy?"

His eyes glitter in the dark and he throws back his great head, roaring at the dusky sky. The triumphant sound startles the passing Starly out of formation and knocks all the worries right out of her, and she joins his roar with a laugh of her own as the birds swirled back into their vee, chirping their indignation.

"Then we're free, sweetheart! Free for two whole months! Free to do whatever we want!"

And they begin to walk, hand in armored claw, as the mountains rise majestically in front of them.

~~~

Freedom, it turned out, included a lot of hiking in the dark. It also included carrying a fifty-pound backpack full of rations and supplies which did not, as a rule, make her feel very free.

Tyranitar, ever attentive, had cajoled the backpack off her and lifted it so easily that it looked effortless. She'd made some weak protests, not wanting him to shoulder the burden, to which she was hoisted under his arm and carried as well.

"You better put me down!" she threatens, laughing all the while. "Or I'll make you carry me everywhere! I will!"

He tilts his head down at her and deliberately huffs to make her hair fluff out of its tie and fall in a vibrant red mess around her shoulders.

"Oh, you're in for it now." She playfully kicks him in the back, to which she receives a lick that messes her hair up even more. "Tyranitar! You're terrible!"

He laughs his wonderful laugh, all crystal and stone, and licks her again. His tongue is warm and smooth like riverbed rocks, and approximately as wet. Her hair is a mess. The Volbeat sing all around them and her heart was full to bursting. Even though it's dark, she can see the shine in the back of Tyranitar's eyes where they reflect the night back at her. More than that, she's messy and hot and laughing, and she's absolutely free.

"Put me down," she insists breathlessly, and this time he does. She throws her arms around him and holds on tight. The blue scales of his belly are smooth and supple like rich leather, and warm her entire body even through her clothing. She can feel him breathing and hear the steady, powerful rhythm of his heart, as familiar as her own.

"I love you," she says to her best friend. He tucks his head into her shoulder and makes a low, thrumming hurr that vibrates pleasantly through her chest, saying in their own way: I love you too.

They hold each other for a few long, tender moments, before she pulls away and playfully drops a kiss on his nose, making his eyes crinkle happily.

"I meant it, you know. You still have to carry me."

He hoists her up and she laughs in delight and surprise as he drops her on his shoulders, legs around his broad neck, propped on top of his spikes. She points onwards, bold and brave, and he roars and plunges forth.

Having a Tyranitar as your best friend was strange only to people who hadn't grown up beside one, who hadn't spent their childhood cuddled up against the warm, weighty form of a Larvitar and made weekend trips to let him feed on soil, who hadn't carried around a Pupitar through their college years, patiently waiting for their friend to crack the shell. She'd waited for him, and he returned the favor tenfold. He faithfully walked with her to their gym every day, and sometimes she'd ride back home on his broad shoulders if she was too tired. It made her feel a little bit like a conquering queen of the world, riding on her magnificent partner. He kept vigil at her side every night, the heat of his body a natural furnace. In winter, she hardly needed to heat her apartment because he exhaled warmth like a miniature sun.

As she rides atop his shoulders now, safe from the brambles, it feels like they're the rulers of the world. She trusted him to lead the way, and he guided her through the dark to a deep, cozy cave. Twelve hours ago she would have preferred a lean-to under the pine trees or beside a nice campfire, but right now, nothing sounds better than unfolding her sleeping bag, slipping into soft clothes, and curling up beside her best friend, warm and safe and free, asleep before her head hits the pillow.

~~~

In the morning, she's woken by a snoring snout against her face. Her sleeping bag and Tyranitar's scales are nothing like her mattress at home. They're ten times better. She's never slept half that well before. With a yawn, she throws her arm around him and drifts for a while in the happy, unconcerned freedom of the wild. The Starly chatter outside the mouth of the cave, their bright, cheery songs a balm to her soul.

Tyranitar sleeps in his own nest next to hers at home, since he's too heavy for her bed frame, and once they're back home she'll need to rectify that immediately. But for now, the sunlight slants in through the mouth of the cave and Tyranitar snores like a polite rockslide next to her. Despite the sound and the hard floor, she feels utterly peaceful, and loses herself in gazing at the familiar, solid lines of his face.

"You awake yet?" she mumbles. Almost every part of Tyranitar's body is as well-armored as a mountain, but she knows a few spots where his shell thins. Under his chin, he can feel it if she tickles him, and if that doesn't work, his belly is always sensitive.

He wakes with a roaring laugh, tail swiping across the cave floor, and pulls her closer to tickle her back with a nuzzle into her neck, eyes fond and gentle.

"There we go." She lets him lift her up. "I think we forgot to eat last night. Hand me the jerky, would you? We'll share."

He suddenly looks embarrassed, but obligingly tips her pack over. She looks inside to see several empty packs of jerky. Now that she thinks of it, his breath does smell like teriyaki.

"You ate most of it!" she exclaims. His thorns flatten and he makes a chirp of apology, and she sighs and kisses his nose, rubbing him behind the spines. "Hey, I'm sorry. That's on me for forgetting what an appetite you've got. We can forage later today."

He still snorts and chuffs and frowns. She can see the determination in his eyes, and there's no stopping Tyranitar when he gets an idea in his head.

"What, you're going to go get me food? Bud, you don't have to. What's mine is yours too."

He somehow wiggles out of her grasp despite being the size of a small mountain and paces out the mouth of the cave.

Her best friend has always been stubborn and proud. It's one of the things she loves most about him. Watching his green shape disappear into the sunlight, she sighs and fishes out the last pieces of jerky from the bag.

While he's gone, she spreads her things out in the cave and stands up to do her morning stretches. The relaxation of the night and the heat has done great things for her flexibility, and she's halfway through seeing if she can do the splits when he comes back.

She only notices because he makes a surprised little roar and drops a clawful of berries. She tilts her head back and grins up at him.

"Did you bring me my food, big boy?"

He makes a rumbling croak and carefully lays down armfuls of berries. All perfectly ripe, carefully picked to avoid clawmarks, the most beautiful fruits she's ever seen. Her mouth falls open. Tyranitar looks almost bashfully expectant.

"Tyranitar, sweetheart, you didn't need to-" She's stammering as she gets up, and after struggling to find the right words, she gives up and hugs him as tightly as she can. "Thank you."

She offers him some, but he must have eaten already because he settles down beside her and watches with soft eyes as she eats everything. When she's done, he tips his head back and purrs so loudly that she feels it down in the marrow of her bones.

"You'd almost think you like feeding me," she teases, grabbing his snout in her hands. He gently grabs her hand in his teeth, tickling her fingers with his tongue before the furnace-like heat of his breath makes them both let go. He sits back and chuffs his agreement.

She flops back down on the ground, toying with a stray Oran berry, which she feeds to him. He's almost delicate in the way he takes it from her hand.

"Well, if you like grocery shopping so much, I'll leave that to you," she laughs. "We'll consider it repayment for all those years I ran out to the Pokemart at two in the morning for your treats."

She was joking, but the next morning when she wakes up, he's waiting for her with another armful of ripe fruit, and he looks so happy to see her eating it that she simply allows it to happen, and makes it up to him with cuddles.

#pokemon x human

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kindness-ricochets · 1 year

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Fic Stats Tag Game

Rules: Give us the links to your fics with the most hits, second most kudos, third most comments, fourth most bookmarks, fifth most words, and your fic with the least amount of words. tagged by @tinyarmedtrex Most hits: A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Republican National Convention - 25804 hits -

Jesper and Wylan meet at a farmers’ convention and, long story short, they might have to overthrow the government. Jesper was supposed to spend spring break at Nina’s—then a joint turned up in his backpack and his da decided he was coming to the convention instead. He’s miserable and bored until a chance encounter with a shy artist. He never expected to meet someone sweet, gorgeous, and interested in him in the middle of Iowa. There’s just one tiny problem: Wylan’s father is nationally prominent and openly homophobic.

Second most kudos: Things and Comforts - 811 kudos -

Everything is over and nothing is normal. Wylan should be delighted. He can live a comfortable life now, no longer afraid of his father. He can bring his mother home. He can spend the rest of his life making payments on that steep fee of Jesper's. (He hopes he can spend the rest of his life making payments on that steep fee of Jesper's.) Instead the return to Geldstraat brings new challenges. It's not Kaz or Jan calling the shots anymore, it's Wylan, and he'll need to decide if he's equal to the challenge of managing his father's empire, caring for the remains of his family, and becoming one of the few good men in Ketterdam.

Third most comments: A Measure of the Sum of Parts - 195 comments -

Wylan works to improve Kerch, partly by aligning with a growing workers’ movement, even as half the Merchant Council digs in their heels. Jesper knows he should be more, but he’s afraid to become more of a disappointment. The boys love each other. It’s enough… just barely. Then Jesper makes a terrible mistake, one that leads him to Ravka and a sojourn in the Little Palace. He needs to learn to control his abilities, he wants to, but that's easier said than done. Back in Ketterdam, Wylan digs into his family history, uncovering another of Jan Van Eck's dirty little secrets. Jesper and Wylan expected a reunion in Ravka. They never expected to mend their relationship at the heart of an international incident. Lies, poison, and lost children... just like old times!

Fourth most bookmarks: I had to go into my statistics for this because as far as public bookmarks, it's tied -- everything looks worse at night (I think I'm overthinking) - 158 bookmarks

It's Kaz's own fault for being a stupid skiv and getting himself nabbed off streets he knew like breathing. It's Kaz's fault. He tells himself that. (Repeatedly.) Kaz is held, captive and sick, in a basement he can't recognize, but when luck gives him a way out he runs to the closest safe place he can think of--Wylan's. Wylan doesn't expect a desperate, fevered crime lord to break into his house. He's stopped thinking life will be the way he expects, though, and sure Kaz is the Bastard of the Barrel, but he's Wylan's friend. What else could he do but look after him while he recovers?

Fifth most words: Love From 1964 - 75403 words

Ororo and Scott return to New York, but with so many homes lost, she struggles to believe in this one. What are you if you can't feel at ease in your own home or your own skin? Meanwhile, Charles plans to bring a new student to the school…

Least words: "Wylan" - 404 words

A single word can hold so much meaning…

That was fun! Thank you for tagging me! I'm not sure who to tag, but if you want to, please consider yourself tagged :D

#fanfiction #six of crows #wesper #wylan van eck #jesper fahey #kaz brekker #x-men #not sure how that one managed to sneak in but cool that it did #but it's like 12th in the series

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whitewolfdown · 11 months

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Name: Emma Kay Hill Gender: Female Sexuality: Bisexual Nationality: American Age: 129 Date of Birth: Feb. 26th Place of Birth: Denver Colorado Places of residence: Cold Spring, New York, and many safehouses located around the US and Canada thanks to May. Languages: English, ASL (American sign language) Species: Human turned werewolf Hairstyle & Color: Blonde, usually down and wavey Height & Weight: 5' 7", 135lbs Former Occupation: Part-time sales associate in retail

ℙ𝕖𝕣𝕤𝕠𝕟𝕒𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕪:

Initially appearing arrogant, Emma adopts the persona of a party-loving sorority girl in order to maintain emotional barriers between herself and those she has developed affection for. However, if someone quickly identifies her facade and challenges her, she will readily retreat in a rather timid manner. Emma deeply regrets her actions during the loss of her pack, and she is willing to go to great lengths to safeguard and support others in need, even if it means protecting them from herself. Her pursuit of redemption is driven by her desire to compensate for the bloodshed endured by her former pack, and it has instilled within her a protective instinct when it comes to those she cares for, as she fears losing them. The unexpected encounter with Cara and Becca ignites a newfound obsession in this young wolf, prompting her to travel from New York to Denver, Colorado just to ensure the well-being of her friends and family. Emma's loyalty knows no bounds, and she tends to remain steadfastly by the side of those she holds dear, regardless of their rightness or wrongness, even if it places her in perilous circumstances. Inherited from her mother and father, Emma possesses a compassionate nature and an immense capacity for love. She wears her heart on her sleeve and is willing to get her hands dirty for the sake of her loved ones.

𝔹𝕒𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕪:

"I had a comfortable and privileged upbringing in Denver, Colorado. I grew up with a loving family and lived in the suburbs. My mother, older brother, and older sister were my role models and I even tried to emulate them. As I got older, I developed new interests and decided to pursue a career in paleontology. I excelled in high school and achieved the highest score in my classes for the SATs."

This would be the lie Emma would share with everyone she met, that she had a good life full of love and laughter. However, the truth was that she struggled to gain attention from her parents due to her older siblings' achievements. She lived in the shadow of her siblings and their accomplishments, leaving the young blonde consistently envious of her siblings throughout her elementary and middle school life. Her relationship with her parents would not be any better, as she would catch her mother being unfaithful at age seven. During one of her mother's trysts with a strange man, Emma, who was at home due to a fever, walked in on her mother. Emma was immediately rushed out by her mother and was blamed for her mother's disloyalty towards her father while being told to never tell him about it in order to keep the child silent. Emma then distanced herself from her father because of her mother's infidelity all while keeping her mother's dirty secret through the remainder of her childhood.

During her high school years, the young lady forms a strong bond with her closest companions, Rebecca Byrd and Cara Zimmermen. The trio quickly become inseparable and spend a significant amount of time together. However, all good things must come to an end, and Emma eventually leaves her hometown to pursue her education at Cornell University. This decision proves to be life-altering for her. In a fateful encounter with a female werewolf, the blonde is viciously attacked and bitten on her shoulder. She spent the following weeks healing and recovering from her injuries. But could never shake off her flu-like symptoms, Emma experiences a transformation, becoming the very creature that had harmed her. After unintentionally attacking one of her dear friends from college, she decides to abandon her studies and live a solitary existence. Fully aware that she can never return to her beloved family.

After several months, the youthful werewolf discovers a group of fellow creatures and eventually settles in, although she never establishes a strong connection with any particular member of her newfound "family". Deemed an outsider, Emma experiences isolation and detachment from much of the pack's communication, feeling even more solitary than she had before. However, her life takes another turn as the fair-haired werewolf aids in defending their territory against a rival pack. It then appears as if her pack is finally beginning to accept her. Yet, this moment of tranquility is abruptly shattered when the wolf pack is once again targeted in an attack. This time, the wolf remains hidden during the confrontation, observing as the intruders annihilate her entire pack. Left with little choice, Emma must once again abandon her home. Upon arriving in New York, fate intervenes as she unexpectedly encounters her long-lost companions from a time she believed was beyond her reach. Immediately, she begins to follow them, hoping to reunite with them. Her only lingering concerns: How will the girls respond to her "new life?" And why did they seem so... Different?

Upon her emotional reunion with Rebecca and Cara, she learns that they too are werewolves. Revealing why she had disappeared and what had become of her, the group swiftly decided to stick together and get into contact with a witch named May. After deciding that the safest place for the three would be with May, they settle with the witch, however, it doesn't take long for trouble to find them once again. Having discovered Eric's presence in town Emma and Becca wind up butting heads and she cautions the young brunette Lycan that she may not be ready for such an encounter. However, her words go unheeded resulting in the death of two human hunters the group had managed to befriend.

Emma, who had developed feelings for one of the hunters, seemed to hold some resentment toward her long childhood friend, regardless of Mayleen's forgiveness. Emma's frustration was further enhanced when Cara announced that she planned to turn Mandy so that she could join the pack just three months after the incident with Eric and everything they had been through with Stratus. Concerned about the consequences of her friend's actions, Emma speaks against the changing of Mandy only for the two wolves to get into a fight. Angered by Emma, Cara snaps at the blonde and reminds Emma of her leaving when needed most, then suggests she does it again, resulting in Emma "wolfing out" and lunging at Cara who had already become a wolf to counter her assault. The two stopped only due to Stratus ripping them apart, she then lectured the two on being more of a unit before sending them in their separate ways with Emma's word going unheeded. Ultimately resulting in Mandy's death.

Still upset and emotionally wounded from both her fights with her childhood friends and that neither had heeded her words, the white wolf takes off on her own deciding she needs the space. She now resides in the woods on the outskirts of a small town in South Carolina called, McConnells.

"It sucks... You know? I could never go back... Never see my friends, my sister... My dad... My brother... So, I do this... I just watch and hope eventually... They'll move on and forget me somehow."

ℍ𝕆𝔹𝔹𝕀𝔼𝕊

Emma doesn’t have too many hobbies, besides obsessing over her old life, she doesn’t really make time for herself. However, there are some things she enjoys doing. Reading is one of her favorite pastimes, though curling up and watching movies is a close second. And she’s not one to go against any form of mischief, in fact, it's one of her favorite things to do. However, if there’s one thing this girl loves to do more than anything… It’s digging. Digging up bones from an ancient past.

ℍ𝔸𝔹𝕀𝕋𝕊

Emma has a tendency to pace when she is anxious, stressed, or restless. She is known for being quite open about her emotions, and her numerous habits are a clear indication of how she is feeling. Whenever she is extremely happy or excited about something, she tends to express it loudly. This typically involves consuming alcohol, which she frequently relies on more than she should. As mentioned earlier, Emma has a tendency to fixate on her past life, particularly the individuals who were a part of it. It is difficult for her to let go, and she often travels extensively to check up on people she used to know. However, she never strays too far and prefers to remain close to those who have remained in her life.

𝕎𝔼𝔸𝕂ℕ𝔼𝕊𝕊𝔼𝕊

Wolfsbane || Silver

Self-critical || Anxious

Fire || Naive || Perfectionist

Highly Emotional || Liar at Times

𝕊𝕋ℝ𝔼ℕ𝔾𝕋ℍ𝕊

Determined || Persistent

Kind || Loyal || Generous

Superhuman Strength/Speed/Senses || Resourceful

Self-sacrificing

#Emma Hill

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silversdragonemporium · 2 years

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Naked Before the Stars

Ship: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Byleth Eisner (female)

Summary: Whilst helping the professor dispatch the shadowy monsters that killed Jeralt, Dimitri finds himself unable to keep his façade of princely calm when Byleth is put in danger. After the fact, he allows himself to finally let her see him as he truly is regardless of how desperate, unsettling and terrifying it might be.

Written for @dimilethfever's Spring Fever event, albeit anonymously.

Warnings: Yandere Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Obsessive Behavior, That Blaiddyd Breeding Kink™

Rating: Explicit

AO3 Link

It had been his fault.

Dimitri had greatly admired her ever since he had seen her so quickly and efficiently dispatch the rouges that had ambushed them. He had recognized the skill of a practiced and strong warrior as she commanded them. When she became their professor, it only made sense for him to assume that she would always be stronger than anybody that dared to step in front of her. In a sense, he was right. But when they attacked her from the back?

She was dispatching their enemies, the sword of the creator whipping this way and that, leaving a bloody trail behind her with her face as stoic as only the Ashen Demon would in the heat of battle. He could only keep up with her on horseback.

Soon enough, she had come upon Moni— no. The monster that used that dead girl’s face and voice to infiltrate Garreg Mach and kill Captain Jeralt.

Dimitri wanted to charge in, and spear that monster through her wicked heart. But he held back. There were two reasons. Firstly: this was the profes— Byleth’s revenge. She deserved it. And the other one... was more selfish. He couldn’t let her see him become a savage boar like Felix did. Felix had once been his closest friend. And now...

The thought of her looking at him with the same contempt and disgust as his old friend terrified him.

So he kept his distance, offering assistance to his classmates by finishing off the stragglers. And when he was done, he didn’t immediately rush in to her side. Instead, he dismounted and allowed Tiamat to drink and rest after exerting her through the battle they had just fought. She was a good mount: proud and strong, but quick on the battlefield. His horse reminded him of the professor. How he wished he could mount his professor as skillfully as he could with this horse.

Then, he took his silver lance and hurried to her side. Kronya was cornered, about to fall. And that other impersonator that had stolen the librarian’s identity was there, too. He could handle him whilst his beloved professor took Kronya down. Maybe not deal a killing blow... but if anything Duscur had taught him the ways the body could be maimed to bring the slowest and most agonizing death to a person. Dimitri felt a thrill at the thought of seeing that old decrepit monster suffer. Whatever he did to him, it would pale to what the people of Remire went through. What those in Duscur went through.

But just as he was about to reach the hill that they were on, an inky black spell filled the area, and then it was gone. Along with the professor.

Dimitri himself would have rushed in, had Dedue not managed to hold him back, reassuring him that he didn’t believe the professor to be dead. At least. Until the dark mage taunted them, reminding them that there are fates worse than death. Dimitri knew that all too well, he had seen it.

“I will cut you to shreds!” He screamed, not caring for any of his fellow classmates seeing him like this. It didn’t matter. He had to show him true pain.

He had just broken the mage’s arms with the side of his lance, when the sky turned bright red. And out of a bleeding gash of light, stepped a small but powerful figure.

Unbidden, a verse from the Holy Scripture came to him.

The Goddess Sothis was born from the bleeding womb of a star. In one hand she held the fertile land and in the other she held the flow of time.

“So the Fell Star...” murmured the pathetic creature beneath him. “Consumes even the darkness—”

Dimitri didn’t care. He pressed down on the demon’s neck— and then, his crest activated, resulting in Solon’s far-too swift death instead of cutting his airflow to stop interrupting Dimitri’s thoughts.

Curses. This damned crest only activates when he least expects it.

“Professor,” he asked, rising from the mangled corpse. “Is that you?”

Now that the rip in the sky has closed, he sees her properly. And she’s different. Her eyes and hair were now light green, making her look like she was glowing from within.

“Yes, it’s me.” She said, looking around for the other Blue Lions. “Is everybody alright?”

It really is just like her, to worry about others before herself.

“We are all accounted for.” He summarized. “But I’m relieved to see that you’re alright. What happened to you back there?”

There’s a moment that she seemed to try to find the right words to describe what happened to her. And after that brief pause, she only said: “The goddess gave me her power.”

He could have ended his report there and turned to look for Tiamat to start the journey back to Garreg Mach. But he couldn’t. He almost lost her. He did lose her, for a moment. If it weren’t for the goddess’s benevolence...

“Professor—” Well. Now that everybody had a chance to see just how much of a beast he was when he charged at Solon, there really was no need to hold back anymore. He had already been a coward at the Goddess Tower. Dimitri would not repeat that mistake again. “No, Byleth.”

Her eyebrows raised ever-so slightly. He wasn’t sure if she has grown more expressive in the last few months, or if he finally was starting to identify all of her tells. Maybe both.

“I have killed Solon. I apologize for taking from you the chance to get revenge on him. It was... quick.”

He clenched his hands. His gauntlets strained under his strength. A stupid boar that can’t contain his strength.

“It was my own fault.”

“Dimitri—”

“If I had the chance to, I would do it again. I’d do it a thousand times. Each time, I’d make sure to find new ways to make him suffer. I’ll break his arms and legs. Flay him alive. Sever his limbs.”

Cut his head.

Dimitri saw a new expression on his beloved’s face. It was not shock. Nor anger... Not even disgust, like Felix’s had been the day their friendship ended. She’s afraid.

A despairing laugh rose from his throat. There it was. She now saw him as he truly was.

“Hate me, Byleth. I am nothing but a depraved beast. No better than any of them...” He was ruining everything. He was ruining everything. There was no backing out of this with a laugh and a jest.

It’s so freeing.

“I am a rabid cur that will destroy all that dare hurt you or stand in your way.” He dropped his lance, and undid the fastenings of his chest piece.

He didn’t know where his classmates were now, if they were watching this or not. He doesn’t care.

He kneeled before her, only his gambeson offering any form of protection. But it didn’t matter. He looked up at her through his eyelashes.

“I will never stop. I am devoted to you, and only you. So if you hate who I am, or if you fear me, you are always welcome to put me down. I only beg, that you make it quick, even if I don’t deserve that mercy.”

He lowered his head, ready to hear the swinging of the Sword of the Creator before his blood spilled on the ground.

It never came.

Instead, a hand reached out for him. Her hand.

Slowly, he rose his head to look at her. He feared what he’d see on her face. Pity? Fear? Anger? Or worse: blank stoicism?

She was smiling.

She was—

“I will never kill you for your devotion.” Byleth said, her smile impossibly radiant. “Because I would do the same for you.”

Something within the prince shattered. Or maybe, it had always been broken.

He wanted her. He wanted her to much, his chest hurt. As if he were drowning. As if he were back in Duscur, surrounded by the flames of hell.

What happened next was a blur. He only knew that he had mounted Tiamat, holding tightly unto Byleth, who had fallen asleep somewhere along the way. The sun was setting, and they were galloping through a grassy knoll. The setting sun made the world look golden.

“Dimitri...?” Byleth stirred.

“So you’ve waken up.” He slowed down Tiamat, then dismounted, making sure to gently help her down “The goddess’s power must have put a strain on your body.”

“Where are we?”

“Probably close to Charon lands,” he shrugged, and took out his blue cape from his travel bag. The tents were usually kept in the convoy. He would let her rest on his cape. “I will keep watch. You may rest here.”

“So I’ll take the second watch?” She asked, rubbing her eye.

How quaint. She was so adorable when she assumed such silly things.

“No, Byleth. You will rest, and I will protect you.”

“But I want to protect you, too.” In the half-light, he could just barely see her pout.

He silenced her, pulling his lips against hers. She was soft. She was warm. She was too good for him. But since she kissed him back, he allowed himself to indulge. But even when he got far more than he deserved, he still desired more. He was an animal, after all.

“Please,” he begged pathetically. But he would only beg for her. “Please Byleth, allow me to serve you...”

Her heated breaths filled the air between them, and she freed her breasts from her armor. He desperately removed his gauntlets and seized them between his fingers. Goddess, they were so soft... It was only natural for his wandering lips to find one of her nipples and suckle on it. As he ran his tongue over the tip, he noticed the slight change in her sighs. When he separated his lips to blow gently on her breast and let her feel the chill, her hands on his hair tensed.

It hurt slightly, but he enjoyed the pain she gave him. Whatever she’d give him, he’d take it, and be grateful.

“Haah...” she sighed, and she tugged at his gambeson. “Take it off. I want to see you, too...”

If she wanted to see him, then he had no need for any clothes at all. He removed the rest of his armor, as well as the small-clothes. Her eyes wandered through his naked form, her tongue licking her kiss-swollen lips. He could feel as if he were getting caressed all over, just from her gaze.

“You’re so beautiful...” she murmured, in a haze.

“If my body pleases you, then I am grateful” he reached out for her, and held her close. Feeling her skin on his was dizzying. “Whatever I can do to make you happy, my beloved, I will. Just say the word.”

Byleth trembled, and then she locked them again in another searing kiss. All the while, she had tried to hurriedly remove her shorts. Dimitri couldn’t help but chuckle at how enthusiastic she was. Even if he wasn’t worth it, he still loved—

Yes...

“I love you,” he murmured reverently against her lips. When was the last time he had said those words? Probably over four years ago. If he could taste, the words would have been sweet on his tongue. “I love you, my beloved.”

His.

Even if he wasn’t worthy.

“I love you too,” her cheeks seemed to have darkened, as he felt the heat radiating from her face. Or perhaps, it was his own blush that was causing his face to feel warm. “I love you so much...”

Her fingers intertwined with his. And she gently pulled him down unto the blue cape that protected them from the grass. He realized with great delight that she was bare below him.

The Guardian Moon had been but a mere sliver in the sky, allowing the stars to shine brightly and cover the sky.

Whenever he had envisioned this moment in the darkness of his dormitory room, it had always been back in Fhirdiad. A roaring fire in the fireplace crackling and her enveloped in the royal blue.

But he didn’t mind letting the stars witness this. The Blue Sea Star wasn’t in the sky, but the goddess surely must have been able to see Byleth. How else would she have been able to grant her the power to escape that spell? If the goddess was indeed watching over them, then he’d show her the extent of his devotion right then and there.

Even if he couldn’t taste her, he set about to run his tongue on her neck, on her breasts, down her navel... Even the lips between her legs were as soft and plush as the ones on her face. She smelled of sweat and earth and something else that he didn’t know the name of, but he knew that he liked.

“There,” she cried in a half-sigh. “Right there!”

He kissed her again, gleefully drinking up the mix of his spit and her slick from her. She was shaking, so he kept her still by resting her legs on his shoulders and holding her hips in place. He then realized just how thirsty he was. How helpful of her, to give him more than enough to drink his fill. He was almost drowning, and he would have gladly done so for her, but she pulled him by his hair, forcing him to breathe.

“Have I satisfied you?” Dimitri asked, feeling her other hand rest on his chest. His heart beat faster.

“That felt good,” she whispered to him. “But I won’t be satisfied until you are satisfied, too.”

The hand on his chest wandered down. She took his cock with an almost shy hold. It was far too light and soft to let him get off. But it certainly did wonders to rile him up further.

“I’m not sure if all of you can fit in me,” she giggled.

Oh, goddess… Her giggle was adorable. He wanted to hear it more. He also wanted it to be for his ears only.

“But there’s nothing one can’t accomplish if they set their mind to it.” Her tone had been similar to the one she’d take during special training whenever a student made a mistake. “I’m sure I’ll be fine...”

As if to prove that she was indeed prepared, she moved him to sit and then she sat on his lap, grinding the side of his dick with her inviting wet slit. He wasn’t inside her, but he could feel her burning warmth. Even though they were both naked before the stars in the middle of some abandoned field, Dimitri didn’t feel cold. Their faces were not even an inch from each other. She was so close. But he wanted her to be closer. He grabbed her by the waist to press her small body flush against his.

“Better,” his beloved mumbled. “But not quite...”

She was grinding her clit and lips up and down the side of his shaft, but seemed to have difficulty finding where he could enter her.

“Byleth, allow me.” He lifted her up without much difficulty, and then guided her to finally let his cock pierce her.

Yes. This was it. He had never felt anything like the enveloping warmth that was now consuming his senses right then, but even so he knew this was right. He had been able to fit inside her without much trouble, but she had shaken and let out a strained moan that Dimitri wasn’t sure whether it was in pain or pleasure when he did. When he tried to lift her off him, however, she vehemently shook her head, and held on tight to his chest to stay in place.

“I just need a moment,” her voice was a mix of desire and giddy excitement. Like a child getting a new toy for their birthday. “I’m so full… and I want to keep you inside me.”

So she also had felt that it had been right. Dimitri let out a sigh of relief he hadn’t noticed he had been holding. She rubbed her face on the side of his, almost like one of Garreg Mach’s many cats. She was adorable.

“Is that better?” He asked, after a mew moments of staying still, but connected.

“Yes, I think I can now…” She moved to hold unto his shoulders before she began to once more grind against him. However, now that he was within her, the sensations were intensified. She was rubbing against his navel, and he could feel himself surrounded by her warmth. Dimitri kissed her once more. Yes... this was it. She was his, and he was hers.

He wasn’t really mounting her, but she definitely was mounting him. Dimitri knew Byleth could indeed keep a strenuous pace with ease. He had seen her when she had been teaching him more about horseback riding. However, when he rode against him, she took the time to slow down and change speeds at an unpredictable pace. From gallop to trot. From trot to canter. From canter to walk. He delighted to feel his own pleasure rise and fall with her movements, but with each new height, his lows remained higher than before.

Dimitri realized, as they once more locked their lips together, that he was definitely and undeniably making love to her. It seemed almost silly to not have thought of that before. But even though they were fucking out on an open field, the tenderness between them felt warm and heavy. Like the honey he had once delighted in when he was a boy.

He felt a thrill, knowing that this was the sort of embrace that would allow them to create a new life. The scripture did say that the embrace of all true lovers was a beautiful thing, and that it pleased the goddess. If there were any children born out of a loving union, they were said to be born as strong and as happy as the bond between the lovers. His mind entertained the thought of a child that looked like a bit like him and a bit like her. His heart clenched tightly within him. There were few things that he had ever wanted to the point of his chest hurting. One of them was now sitting on top of him, her breath hot on his ear and his on hers.

It was just like him to want more, even when given far beyond what he deserved. He should be satisfied with whatever scraps of love he got from her. He knew he should... But he didn’t want to. He loved her, damn it all. Wasn’t it only natural to want a child born out of their union? To please not only his beloved lover, but also the goddess?

“You said you wouldn’t be satisfied until I am, didn’t you my beloved?”

“Yes, Dimitri,” her mint-green eyes were half-lidded. But despite that, he could see and feel her lust when she looked deep into his eyes. “Your happiness is my happiness. Your pleasure is my own, too.”

“Then you must know… I lied when I said that I was joking, back in the Goddess Tower. I do want us to be together, forever.” He perhaps should have felt ashamed at bringing this up at a time like this. But he didn’t. He didn’t even look away from her as he continued. “I will be most satisfied if I’m allowed to sow my seed deep within you. I love you, and I want you to bear the proof of it to this world.”

Her breath shook.

He expected her to push him away.

She pulled him closer.

“Then...” she said, in-between nibbles to his earlobe. “Go ahead. Give me your child. Give me all of your children, as many as you want. Because I will want them, too. We will be together, forever.”

With her clear and undeniable permission, he felt drunk on power. He grabbed unto to her waist and helped set the pace. Slow but strong thrusts. His teeth on her neck, sucking, biting and licking. She was pliant under her grip, though he was sure that she might bruise once all of this was said and done. But as she allowed herself to succumb to his grueling pace, she was rewarded with pleasure. He knew, because he could feel her cunt pulse around him, as if trying to draw him further inside. And just in time, too. He was at his limit, too.

“Byleth,” he had gotten used to utter her name as quietly as he could to not disturb the late night stillness of Garreg Mach whenever his pesky lust got the better of him. Even now, he found himself whispering. “Byleth...!”

“Dimitri!” she whispered, too. Did she also—? “Please, please! I need you!”

As she yelled for him, he could finally feel his pleasure take flight far beyond any control. He only had half a second to realize just how close he was, which he used to drive himself deeper inside her. Dimitri allowed his probably undignified cry to fill the air, as he poured his heart and his seed within his beloved. In that instant, his eyes met hers. She was smiling, and his heart clenched once more. At long last, after little more than eighteen winters, Dimitri finally found himself feeling... complete.

He had no way to know how long they had been at it. He must have fallen asleep at some point, because he found himself intertwined with her, still in the nude with the first rays of sunlight landing on her skin. She was still asleep, and he decided to let her enjoy her rest for a few minutes more.

His eyes looked down, at where they had not only joined their bodies, but their hearts. He had come so much, that he could just make out some of seed pooling out of her. He found himself smiling. There were no guarantees yet, but he pressed a hand ever-so gently against her belly and whispered to whoever was or wasn’t there.

“Just as I’ll protect her, I’ll protect you too. I will keep you safe.”

After the Lone Moon, he would finish his studies and be crowned. As king, he had authority to marry whoever he damn well pleased and legitimize whichever children he chose. And if his vassals tried to protest too hard... he would just need to beat them into submission.

He was a beast, but at least he was stronger than all of them combined.

#silvercoldbrew #silverfic:complete #dimileth #fe3h fanfic #fdimileth #DimilethSpringFever

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mostly-megan · 4 years

Text

WIP Game

I was called out graciously tagged by the dreamy @zeldasayer and realized suddenly just how many I am currently working on. 💚✨

At Home With The Daniels (Whiskey x Gin x Nanny, follow-up to Cabana Nights)

“Levon, honey, you need to keep the towel around you to keep you dry,” you gently remind him as you adjusted his hands to grip the edges of the warm cloth. The poor boy looked like a wet puppy with his sad expression and drooping, wet curls falling in his eyes. You brush them back, catching his attention with a warm smile.

“He’s just grabbing something, he’ll be right back,” ruffling his hair earns you a shy smile as he toddles over to clammer onto the soft outdoor couch with you. You have to bite back a giggle at the huff he lets out as he leans against you. Angling your head to see inside, you catch a glimpse of Jack walking back and forth with the phone cradled against his shoulder. His wet hair hangs like the little boy next to you as droplets skitter down the angular planes of his broad back.

Before you start to consider the peek of his slightly too tight swim trunks under his robe, the lithe tones of the children’s mother float from the front room. “Well, hello, my little ducklings! Are you having a fun day with Papa?”

Nerd Hot Talk (Stressed!Frankie Morales x F!Reader: Funny/Fluffy/Dumb Dirty Talk)

Slowly opening his soulful eyes to meet your, he lifts your hand to his lips to delicately kiss the knuckle, “What would I do with out you, mi amor?” You feel your face get a bit hot as you lean down to kiss him softly, leaning your cheek on his as you read over what he has done.

“Hmm, you’d probably sit here for even more hours each day. Are you making any progress?” He inhales deeply and lefts the hard exhale puff out of his plush lips, “Well, it looks like I have all of the preliminary reports finished, but I need to get everything setup for the instructor and my sponsor so they came have everything they need to fill out.”

He rubs his eyes with one hand, you stand to his side and look over the papers at the front. “And, of course, we can’t forget the insurance, lesson requisites, and medical record forms…” He wraps his arm around your waist to bring you into his lap, resting his head on your tummy and letting out a sigh as you lay an arm around his neck.

“If you keep doing that, I think you’re going to use up all the air in the house.” He scoffs, looking back up at you, “Oh, you’re funny. You guys hear her? She’s got jokes.” His eyes are tired, the whites look slightly gray and are tinged with red around the edges. But they still sparkle at you the same way they did when you first met.

Back From Basics (Post-Boot Camp!Frankie x F!Reader: It’s just smut with a little comfort...)

After sitting on the couch for a while just talking for hours, it dissolves like it always used to into slow kisses and passionate making out. It’s a bit odd, his body still feels the same, but it’s felt different in a lot of ways. But his lips still molded to you perfectly, knowing exactly when to move and suck on your lower lip.

His tongue slowly asks for entrance and you gladly allow the warmth to invade you, roving around and making you moan into the kiss. His hands have found their way up your shirt, caressing your back and pulling you softly to him. You start to slip yours under his shirt, but he pulls away from the kiss and quickly grabs your hands to move them away.

The sun has long since dipped down, leaving you two only is a dim light from the ever-fading glow out the window. “Don’t,” his eyes are looking at your hands, almost refusing to meet yours, “I-I mean, let’s just focus on-on your now.” You place a hand on his cheek, his eyes slowly meet yours. He’s nervous, almost scared, but you’re confused why exactly. If anyone would be, shouldn’t be you not meeting his level of fitness?

Is he actually concerned about how he looks right now? “Why don’t we go up to bed, baby? There’s something that I want to do,” you whisper along his jaw, leaving small kisses along it as you go. He groans and suddenly stands, forcing you to quickly squeeze your arms around his neck to keep from flying back. Although you know you wouldn’t, his hands are firmly holding onto your thighs as he chuckles a bit at your response. “You couldn’t do this before,” he pulls his head back to look at you while he moves to the bedroom.

My Hero (Dad!Frankie x Reader)

Giggling along with her, you make your way out to the work shed, Isabella wiggling out of your grasp and scampering to the door. You gave the old barn door a tug and popped you head in to see if it was a good time to bother him, but she zipped past your legs to her father.

Frankie looked up from where he stood, penciling out designs in the planks of wood on his sawhorse, safety glasses perched low on the bridge of his nose. His framed towering over the low beams highlighted by the plaid shirt pulled tight over his strong arms and a little on his softer tummy.

His face lit up at the sight of his daughter bouncing up to him in her little purple shirt and flower tights. He scooped her up with an exaggerated effort, “Uugh, hey, nena! You look so pretty, que bonita!” He nuzzled his nose into her temple and pressed kisses into her curly mess of hair that matched his own.

She squeals and wiggles at the sensation, giggling out a “Gracias, papa,” but grabbed at his shirt and face to get more of his attention. “Papa, papa, we go on a ‘venture! We wanna ‘venture!”

You cross the workshop, where you were observing the sweet scene from the door. “Some little girl has been a bit cranky today,” you muss up Isabella’s hair and get her giggling again as you lean on Frankie’s other shoulder, “And her mama is also getting a little bored of being home. You got time for an adventure to, oh say, the park?”

You wiggle an eyebrow at him as Isabella dramatically gasped at the idea. “Park, papa, park,” he chuckles as her little hands now slap on his chest.

Spring Fever (Werewolf! Frankie x Reader: Family Fluff)

Even from the car port outside, you can hear giggles and loud little footsteps in the cabin. You and Frankie share exasperated eyerolls and sighs hidden behind soft smiles as you pass each other. You had just opened up the doors and windows to air out your monthly retreat and Lucas was running wild with excitement.

You walk up the deck steps, carrying one of the coolers of food you had bought on the way up, and see a small, fuzzy blur circling the living room. On the way to the kitchen, you can see your son chasing his tail so fast it was even making you dizzy.

Eventually you hear a soft “oof” and look back to see him back in human form bonking against the couch cushion and landing on the floor with dizzy giggles. “Lucas, you’d better be wearing pants when I look back up. We’ve talked about keeping our clothes on.”

You softly chuckle at the small gasp and frantic shifting of fabric. He stumbles into his shorts and tshirt and toddles over to tug lightly on your pant leg, “Mama, mama, I almost got it that time! Didja see Mama?!”

He giggles again as he wraps his little arms around your legs to steady himself. Pulling more cold food out of the ice chest, you play with his soft curls with your other hand, “I did, sweetheart. You’re such a silly pup today, that looked like so much fun!”

***************************************************

Tagging: @themarcusmoreno @max--phillips @maybege @frannyzooey @filthybookworm @keeper0fthestars @mylifeliterally @fairytalesintheend @murdermewithbooks @pettyprocrastination

#megan writes now #i've been working on these a while #spring fever is the closest to coming out #why am i incapable of producing frankie content?#this isn't even all of it #it's just the shit with actual words

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Note

🧿🤠🐇🍲🍯: Lan Wangji does not think it’s safe to raise A-Yuan in Cloud Recesses after the Lans participated in the killing of his zhiji and the entire Burial Mounds community (or more accurately that it’s not safe while he himself is in seclusion and can’t watch over A-Yuan, at least) so he delivers A-Yuan to the one person who he knows did not stand against Wei Wuxian (and got away with it, bc this person has never stood against anything, since standing takes effort): Nie Huaisang.

Little Side Door - ao3

Nie Huaisang’s rooms in the Unclean Realm had a little side door that no one but him ever used.

They hadn’t originally. The Unclean Realm was a fortress, designed to maximize protection and defense; there was no better place for keeping things safe by locking them away. While it had its fair share of boltholes and escape routes, they were not common and universally difficult to access lest the enemy learn of them and use them to their advantage. Even the layout of their open spaces were carefully planned lest the attack come from the sky, a concern that only cultivators had, and not about how they themselves could escape – after all, weren’t they all Nie, ready to die rather than endure dishonor?

The little side door that led to Nie Huaisang’s room opened onto a small rock garden, left to grow wild with weeds rather than reveal its presence to more people. It existed only because his brother had ordered it constructed by those he trusted most, all in secret in the dark of the night. He had never explained why he had gone to such lengths to create such an unwelcome and inauspicious place, but then, he hadn’t needed to – Nie Huaisang had been there, too, when his father had descended into madness and they had been trapped in the familial quarters with no way out that did not take them through him. If his brother had been the one to brave his father’s rage directly, Nie Huaisang had been the one stuck in a small space that was only not claustrophobic because it was so painfully familiar.

Now, though his father was long dead and gone, Nie Huaisang had a little side door.

A little side door, and a little garden that almost no one knew about; in combination with the saber that his brother forced him to learn and the golden core he had so begrudgingly formed, he now had a way to reach the sky and the illusive freedom it represented – the freedom to flee and leave his home behind.

If it ever happens again – his brother had said once, the closest he had ever come to speaking of it.

He did not finish his sentence, as Nie Huaisang had thrown his plate into his face and stormed off, steaming mad and close to tears. He did not raise the subject a second time.

Nie Huaisang did not often use his little side door.

Although he enjoyed gardens, he preferred the aviary he’d constructed, or one of the myriad of well-tended gardens in the main part of the sect; even the vegetable gardens out back beside the kitchens were far more welcoming than that sparse straggle of land. He’d only ever spent time there when he was a child and in desperate need of some quiet, wanting to avoid adults with their arguments and their miseries; he’d taken some friends there because he thought it might impress them, but it hadn’t, and anyway his brother had put a stop to that soon enough.

He didn’t even think about the little side door, most days. It was just a part of the room, a small tucked away corner with nothing in it. Nothing to think about.

And then, of course, years after he’d put it out of his mind entirely, there came a terrible banging noise at that little side door, like someone was kicking at it furiously from the outside.

Nie Huaisang nearly fell over sideways in his scramble to get up, and then once again when he realized where the noise was coming from – almost no one knew about his side door and its little garden, and so no one had ever come to him through it. Who would be knocking now…?

He opened it.

Lan Wangji, white robes stained with blood and cheeks bright with fever, shoved something into his arms. “You have a child now,” he said through bitten lips. “Congratulations. He is called A-Yuan. I entrust you with his care, for my sect cannot be trusted with it.”

And then he turned and staggered away, mounting up on Bichen and flying off before Nie Huaisang could say anything – before he could even finish searching his memories and recalling that yes, in fact, Lan Wangji had been one of the friends he had shown the side door to, years and years before, and thus knew how to find it. Before he could even start processing the thousands of thoughts that had spring to life, fully formed, at all the information he’d just received: the bloody robes, the desperation, the reference to the Lan sect – the Lan sect! – being somehow untrustworthy…

He looked down at his arms.

“Congratulations,” he echoed blankly. “I have a child now.”

The child blinked up at him, and then smiled.

“Da-ge!” Nie Husiang howled, rushing into the sect leader’s study where his brother was doing work – luckily it wasn’t receiving hours and he wasn’t in the main hall, as that would have been unfortunate. “Da-ge, you have to help me! I have a child now!”

His brother stared at him, expression blank and mouth slightly agape. The brush in his hand dripping ink onto a now-wasted piece of paper.

“Huaisang,” he said after a moment. “What the fuck.”

Nie Huaisang nodded furiously.

“Where did you get – how – who – what did you do?!”

“I am currently unable to disclose any details,” Nie Huaisang said promptly even as his brother tossed aside the brush and got up, striding over with a storm brewing in his face. “All I can say is that I have to raise this child now. By which I mean, you have to help me raise this child now; I can’t raise children! I’m not mature enough to raise a child!”

“No kidding! Why would someone entrust – to you…” Nie Mingjue trailed off, looking down at the child with a frown that shifted from disbelieving irritation to concern. He pressed his hand to the child’s forehead. “Huaisang, this child has a high fever. We need to get him to the medical wing at once – is that blood?”

“Not his, I don’t think?”

“I don’t want to know,” his brother decided. “Move.”

Some time later, they were both sitting next to the bed in one of the spare rooms in the family quarters; Nie Huaisang thought it might even have been the same one that he’d used when he was very young. A-Yuan was sleeping, and Nie Mingjue was still holding his little hand in his own, having been clocked as the oversize comfort animal that he not-so-secretly was from the very first moment A-Yuan laid eyes on him.

The doctors had declared A-Yuan’s fever to be very severe, but they had applied plenty of medicine – the Lan sect might have more esoteric healing techniques, but there wasn’t anything like the Nie sect when it came to standard medicine for injuries and illnesses associated with the battlefield, and despite A-Yuan’s tender age Nie Huaisang would be willing to bet that his injuries were from a battlefield. They were confident that A-Yuan would make a full recovery, body and mind both intact, although they warned that his memory of the past might be impacted.

Nie Huaisang had thought about all that blood that wasn’t his, of Lan Wangji pale-faced and wild-eyed, and decided that a little bit of forgetting might not be so bad after all.

“Are you going to tell me anything more,” his brother said after a while. “Or should I just give up now?”

Nie Huaisang leaned over and patted his knee. “It’s good that you know your limitations.”

His brother rolled his eyes.

“I can’t believe this is my life,” he remarked.

“What part?” Nie Huaisang asked, curious. “The fact that we have a kid now, because obviously we’re keeping him? Or the fact that someone gave a kid to me?”

“Both,” his brother decided. “Definitely both.”

“His name’s A-Yuan,” Nie Huaisang said. “Apparently.”

“Well,” his brother said. “Obviously that won’t do.”

Nie Huaisang had the ability to be sneaky when he wanted to be. It wasn’t a matter of stealth, he had explained to his brother, but sneakiness– a completely different concept. Stealth suggested that he was doing something to conceal himself and required skills and talent, or else a lot of practice, and obviously Nie Huaisang was not going to go in for either of those.

Sneakiness, though…

He didn’t need people not to be able to see him in order to be sneaky. He just needed them not to care about him, or wonder where he was.

“Psst,” he said, knocking on the window to the rooms where Lan Wangji was purportedly practicing seclusion. “Psst! Lan Zhan!”

Lan Wangji had given him a child. They were definitely past the ‘Lan-er-gongzi’ stage.

“Lan Zhan!” he rapped at the window with his fan. “We need a courtesy name!”

There was some sounds from within the jingshi, mostly stumbling around. Nie Huaisang waited patiently, and after a few moments the window opened and Lan Wangji stared out at him. He was as pale as a ghost with lips as red as blood, and very clearly not in seclusion at all, but rather in the midst of healing whatever wounds had left him bloody – he probably shouldn’t have gotten out of bed to answer.

Oh, well. Too late for regret now.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Lan Wangji said, voice dull and eyes blank as he stared at Nie Huaisang. It was unclear if he meant in the Cloud Recesses generally, or here in particular, interrupting his ‘seclusion’.

“Didn’t you hear me?” Nie Huaisang said, scowling at him. “We need a courtesy name! A courtesy name for the child, you hear me? You know, of course, that Qinghe Nie don’t use personal names, not even for children – certainlynot for children older than their first year. It’d be a complete giveaway that he’s not organically ours if we call him something like A-Yuan.”

Lan Wangji raised a hand to pinch his nose. “Please go away.”

“Courtesy name, Lan Zhan. I mean, I may be the one who’ll be raising him, but please think carefully: do you really want meto be the one naming him?”

“…call him Sizhui.”

“Sizhui,” Nie Huaisang repeated. “With the characters…?”

Lan Wangji nodded.

“Uh, no,” Nie Huaisang said. “I need a bettercourtesy name. Are you joking?”

“Nie Huaisang. Go away.”

“But –”

Lan Wangji slammed the window shut.

“…fine,” Nie Huaisang said to the closed window. “Be that way, see if I care. Not like we don’t need to build up a decent coparenting relationship or anything eventually.”

He thought he heard a choking sound from behind the door and smirked.

“Don’t you think you can baby-trap me and just walk away, Lan Zhan,” he said in his best ominous tone. “If you wanted someone to raise your kid without ever consulting you again, you should’ve dropped him off in the Lotus Pier with Jiang Cheng, who’d probably be too busy being confused to even question where he came frome – but no. You came to me. I don’t make decisions in the best of times, least of all good. I have questions. A lot of questions.”

He thought about it for a moment.

“Not about how you got him or anything like that,” he said. “I’m not stupid, I can tell a secret when I see one. But, you know, other types of questions. Parenting stuff. Are you a ‘go sit and think about what you’ve done’ sort of parent? Or more traditional discipline, with copying lines and occasionally strikes when they’re naughty? Do you want him to learn the Lan sect rules along with the Nie sect principles –”

There was a muffled sound from inside the house.

It sounded angry.

“…we can talk about it later,” Nie Huaisang decided. He might’ve pushed his luck a bit too much. “Talk later!”

“You have a…what?” Lan Xichen asked, his smile a little fixed and stare a little wilder than normal.

“A nephew!” Nie Mingjue gushed. “Isn’t he wonderful?”

“Nephew.”

“He’s so well behaved, too! He plays quietly by himself most of the time, drawing and even writing a little, and Huaisang’s already teaching him how to play the dizi –”

“When you say nephew, do you mean Nie Huaisang’s child?”

“Do I have other brothers?” Nie Mingjue rolled his eyes at him. “He’s obviously not yours. Anyway, I know Meng Yao is expecting one, too, but he wouldn’t be dressed in Nie colors if it was his, would it?”

“Yes, but…are you telling me that…that Nie Huaisang…”

“It’s a battlefield child, Xichen,” Nie Mingjue said patiently. “Obviously. Someone entrusted him to Huaisang.”

“Oh,” Lan Xichen said, looking relieved. “Yes, that makes more sense…wait.”

Nie Mingjue waited.

“Someone entrusted him to Nie Huaisang?”

“I know, right?” Nie Mingjue said, and Lan Xichen didn’t notice how strained his grin had suddenly become, or how thoughtful his eyes were as he surveyed Lan Xichen as if trying to find an answer to a question. “I would’ve assumed they’d go for someone more responsible, like you. Guess you never know…”

“I guess you don’t,” Lan Xichen agreed, looking down at the child with a bemused expression. A battlefield child, entrusted to Nie Huaisang… “They must have been truly driven to desperation.”

“Perhaps,” Nie Mingjue said, and then changed the subject to little Nie Sizhui’s accomplishments, of which he could list many at great length and very great enthusiasm. By the time he was done with that, Ln Xichen was so overwhelmed that he didn’t ask a single other question.

“So I’ve got an idea on how to do this whole co-parenting thing,” Nie Huaisang said, cracking nuts to eat. He was sitting next to Lan Wangji’s bedside, and dropping the shells straight on the floor, too, staring dead-eyed at Lan Wangji as if daring him to say something – which he wouldn’t, of course. “Since with Sizhui starting classes soon it’s become much more urgent, on account of me needing you to attend meetings with his teachers and discuss his progress.”

Lan Wangji looked deeply long-suffering. He’d only invited Nie Huaisang inside because Nie Huaisang had threatened to start shouting out his business loudly on account of oh but Lan Zhan, how was I to know if you could hear me in there, I just had to raise my voice just in case because I wouldn’t want you to miss any of the extremelyimportant news –

It was all Lan Wangji’s fault for being born earlier than Nie Huaisang, Nie Huaisang thought virtuously. It was merely Nie Huaisang’s lot in life to fulfill the role of annoying younger brother to everyone.

“See, it’s the music,” Nie Huaisang continued. “You do music, right?”

Lan Wangji’s ice-cold glare suggested that he did, in fact, ‘do music’.

“So your brother has been playing this song for da-ge on a regular basis,” Nie Huaisang explained, ignoring the glare entirely. “And when he’s not available, which is most of the time nowadays, he’s been sending san-ge instead. Even though, of course, poor san-ge’s so busy back at Lanling all the time…ughh, it’s so unfair, you know! Poor san-ge has to do all the work of being the heir and gets none of the benefits, and they pile even more work on him on top of that – really, he gets no respect.”

Lan Wangji’s expression suggested he didn’t care.

“And think about the inconvenience to us!” Nie Huaisang sallied forth, undeterred. “People coming and going all the time, da-ge having to interrupt his schedule of spending quality time with me and Sizhui – and sect leader work, of course, though that’s less important – in order to march over to greet them and host them and listen to them…what a pain it is!”

Lan Wangji appeared on the verge of suggesting that Nie Huaisang consider getting to the point.

“So you should come do it instead.”

Lan Wangji’s expression cracked, suggesting that Nie Huaisang had actually managed to make an impact.

“You remember,” he said, voice low and a little hoarse from all that refusing to speak he’d been doing. Really, if Nie Huaisang wasn’t around to goad him into it, he might’ve lost the voice entirely – he didn’t even have little Sizhui around to force him to speak! “That I’m in seclusion. Right?”

“You’re horribly lonely is what you are,” Nie Huisang said briskly. “You require company. Therefore, coming to take up a semi-permanent posting in the Unclean Realm to play the Song of Clarity for my brother morning, noon, and night is clearly the finest way to solve all of our problems, and for you to see little Sizhui as often as you like.”

Lan Wangji visibly wavered. “My brother,” he said, then coughed. “My brother will never believe it.”

“That’s your problem,” Nie Huaisang said. “Find a way to sell it.”

He stood, shaking the remaining shells onto the chair.

“See you in Qinghe soon, Lan Zhan..!”

Lan Wangji was trying to kill him with his mind, Nie Huaisang thought happily as he wandered off with a whistle and a vaguely silly expression. Good – he’d been inside for too long. He needed the stimulation.

“Truly,” Nie Mingjue remarked, strolling around their gardens without any apparent notice of the small child perched on his shoulders, giggling wildly at the feeling of being tall, “I feel far better than I did before! One can scarcely compare it – night and day, really. Your Lan sect’s Song of Clarity is a marvel, even if it does take a while before it kicks in.”

“Mm,” Lan Wangji said, walking slowly with his hands behind his back. He was still unsteady on his feet on account of the absolutely horrific injuries he’d incurred – but if the Lan sect’s response to everything was seclusion, seclusion, seclusion, then the Nie sect’s equivalent response was exercise. These little excursions through the gardens were the result.

Thus far, they were still only doing laps around the main gardens, but Nie Huaisang had plans to eventually force Lan Wangji to go even as far as his own little side garden. He’d made it through his side door once, after all; why not a second time..?

At any rate, Nie Huaisang still wasn’t quite sure how Lan Wangji had talked Lan Xichen into allowing him to come to the Unclean Realm, but it really did make the whole co-parenting business a lot more convenient. And his brother had had so much fun making Lan Wangji stiff and awkward over all his thanks and praise for his decision to come ‘help out’ with Nie Sizhui’s raising until finally, at last, Nie Huaisang had taken pity and revealed that Nie Mingjue knew perfectly well whose battlefield child this was.

Both in terms of who had gifted him to Nie Huaisang, and who’d adopted him originally, and of course even his original surname – The little tot’s been through enough adoptions to make anyone’s head spin, his brother had said, his voice gruff as always. There’s no point in thinking back too far, is there?

Lan Wangji had been very relieved.

“Run, bobo!” Nie Sizhui cried, pointing over at a bird. “We need to get it for Sang-gege!”

Nie Mingjue snorted like a bull but obediently quickened his feet and left the rest of them behind, heading in full charge straight at the wild pheasant that was far more likely to end up on Nie Huaisang’s plate than in his aviary. It was about even odds which one Nie Sizhui meant, anyway.

“Nie Huaisang,” Lan Wangji said, his voice low, and Nie Huaisang looked at him. “The Song of Clarity does not take time to work. These effects should have happened at once.”

Nie Huaisang opened his fan, hiding his face as he frowned. “How odd,” he said. “And after san-ge put in all that hard work.”

“Perhaps he played it wrong.”

“Odd,” Nie Huaisang said again. “When san-ge gets so very little wrong…has your brother sent any word on the Xue Yang issue?”

“…he has not.”

“He’s going to need to pick a side eventually.”

“He does not want to make things difficult for his sworn brother.”

“Does he have only the one?” Nie Huaisang asked archly, and Lan Wangji averted his gaze. “It’s awkward for us if he doesn’t back us, and is a bad look besides…truly, it’s a wonder that san-ge managed to squeeze out the time to come here.”

Lan Wangji’s frown deepened. “Indeed,” he said. “One would think his father might be tempted to stop him.”

“Wouldn’t you just?” Nie Huaisang said. “Wouldn’t you just…you know, maybe when you’re feeling better, we should go visit Lanling ourselves.”

Lan Wangji glanced at him, arching an eyebrow, and Nie Huaisang smiled, fanning himself casually.

“I’m not the only one with a little side door,” he said. “Let’s go knocking and see what we find, shall we?”

#mdzs #nie huaisang #lan wangji #lan sizhui #nie mingjue #lan xichen #my fic #my fics #little side door

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hollyhomburg · 3 years

Text

Before I Leave You (Sneak Peak)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: Someone always has to leave first; They just didn’t expect Yoongi to come back with a new omega (who's clearly been through some shit).

Pairing: Beta! Yoongi, Omega! Reader, Omega! Jungkook, Omega! Seokjin, Alpha! Namjoon, Alpha! Hoseok, Alpha! Taehyung, Alpha! Jimin,

Tags: Polyamory, groupsex, sexual and non-sexual Dom/sub undertones, heat sex, praise kink, brief humiliation, Spanking, knotting, breeding kink, emotional abuse, physical abuse, forced mating marks, graphic murder scenes, negative self-talk, self-esteem issues, non-verbal characters, abandonment, PTSD, hurt/comfort, gluttonous fluff, agoraphobia, implied/referenced self-harm, suicidal thoughts and brief desperate suicide attempt, unreliable narrators. Gender dysphoria, transgender characters, internalized homophobia, internalized transphobia, internalized misogyny, unintended outings, epilepsy,

W/c: 100k+ (87k completed so far)

A/n: long time no see~ this is what I’ve been working on for the last few months! I hope everyone will like it. Updates will be once a week on fridays or saturdays at 5pm EST. This will also be cross posted on Archive of our own.

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“You shouldn’t be out here- you’ll get cold.”

Your hands play on the bannister. In the fountain, something trickles though it’s not full. It’s too early in spring and the flowers in the garden are reluctant to burst through the ground for fear of frost. Yoongi wonders how you’re not shivering. “It’s not the 1800’s Yoongi- people don’t die just from being cold” your revealing dress is probably something that your husband chose for you. it makes Yoongi’s blood boil.

You look a little bit better tonight, though Yoongi can't tell if the color in your face is actually real or from the thick layer of makeup that hides the bruises. The haze in your eyes, like you’re dissociating from everything, isn’t there anymore. Tonight, You’ve got a clarity that Yoongi savors. The scar is healing well, pink and hardly notable under the line of your jaw. Yoongi wouldn’t know it was there if he wasn’t looking for it.

Yoongi searches your face. “You misunderstand me, I said that I don’t want you to be cold, but maybe if you caught a cold- I could help you get better.”

He knows his words don’t make sense- but still you recognize what he wants to say but can’t. I could love you, I could make it better, I could care for you and only treat you with the gentleness you deserve. But Yoongi doesn’t say any of that- no- he only leans forward and offers his hands. “One dance? Before I take you home?”

Yoongi will drive you away from here- will take you and go to some gritty fast food place and get you full of however many calories your husband has made you skip. And he’ll spend the whole drive thinking about leaning across the console to kiss you. He could do it- quick. You’re not wearing lipstick and no one would know. Maybe he can’t help you yet- so starved of love that you look like a ghost. But tonight, he can surely make sure your stomach and your heart is full with the careful care that Yoongi knows he’s good at giving.

You keep Yoongi at an arm's length as he leads you in the waltz, day dreaming of a hypothetical illness, some sickness that can be fixed by a few days rest and some warm soup that Yoongi could provide. The two of you pulled together in a bed however big or small- you wouldn’t mind as long as you got to be this close. His hand on your forehead crooning, “you’ve got a fever lovely.”

It’s a beautiful day dream, but not better than reality as he pulls you in tighter against him in your skimpy gown. It’s only to keep you warm- he justifies. And you melt into his hold. His hands are wide, warm, and better than any jacket as they cup your sides and the small of your back. You stumble on the uneven cobblestones of the garden and Yoongi heaves you up so that you’re balanced on his toes.

He spins you, going faster in the practices steps, making you giggle- a sound that he’s never heard from you and wants to hear again and again. You slow to a more gentle pace, Swaying softly from side to side. You rest your whole body against him and Yoongi holds you up.

For the first time he can smell your real scent, you smell sweet and bready, like a freshly baked cake, something warm inside on a day that the rain pours outside. You smell like cozy lazy Sundays and cupcakes. Yoongi wants to bury his face in your neck but won’t without asking.

He wonders if you like his scent just as much as he likes yours.

Before he can ask, you pipe up. “You just had to take all the good didn’t you?” its not said bitterly, but musing. Out of two brothers, why would one have so much more softness than the other? One gentle and kind while the other is bloodthirsty and violently selfish. Why did you have to choose wrong?

“What would it be like Yoongi? If you took me away from here what would it be like?” you’re crying, barely daring to utter the words. The two of you both know from experience that tempting fate never ends well but you’ve never wanted anything so badly.

Yoongi struggles to hold onto your happy scent. You know how much wanting something you can’t have can hurt you. Reaching out like you’re prepared to grasp the future he’ll paint for you, holding onto the lapels of his coat as you cry. Yoongi just runs his hands up and down your back to comfort you through the longing.

Like this garden aches for rain, Yoongi aches to give, anything and everything, his heart on a platter if that’s what you wanted.

“We’d get takeout every few nights and play rock paper scissors to decide who gets to be the little spoon, we’d have a rule of no yelling in the house, I’d take you out to the ocean and make you s’mores whenever you wanted. You could steal my clothes and I’d never ever say a word about It.”

You laugh at that- somehow, Yoongi just knows that’s something you’d do. He’s known enough omegas, he knows that courting one means you voluntarily give up half of your sweatshirt collection. He keeps speaking softer, like to whisper his wishes out loud is like trying to hold onto a shooting star.

“And-” Yoongi takes a deep breath, tilting his face forward so that your foreheads are aligned. So close. This is the closest Yoongi has ever let himself get to you. “-I’d love you until we’d both had our last breath. I’d leave you sticky notes on the refrigerator telling you that I love you every time I had to leave. I’d never- ever let you be cold. And I’d show you my pack”

Yoongi can feel you swallow thickly at his promises- and he hopes- hopes more than anything else that they’re not empty ones. You always forget that he has someone else- that there are several someone-else’s who have Yoongi’s attention the way you do. He is the moon and you’re just something he orbits around. There are other celestial objects caught in his orbit. “What are they like? What’s it like to have a pack?”

Yoongi tries not to let himself get misty eyed, “it’s everything, it’s love and having everyone there all around you but it’s also so much fun, you’re never alone- you always have someone to be around and it’s not even- it doesn’t even feel tiring. Even when you want to sleep you’d rather stay up with them.” Yoongi slides his finger underneath one of the straps of your dress, playing with it. “Telling you what they’re like- well- that would take me hours”

Your laugh is pretty, and it slips through yoongi’s fingers like smoke “That sounds beautiful.” Yoongi holds you like you might be a piece of that- a piece of his pack that he hadn’t known he’d been missing. That's probably why your next words hit him so hard.

“I wish I could have seen it. Get back to them safe alright? Do me a favor and love them like you would have loved me.”

*Part 1 Coming Friday April 9th @ 5pm EST*

#bts fanfic #bts mafia au #bts omegaverse au #bts polyamory au #bts x reader #bts poly au #bts werewolf fic #bts fluff #bts angst #bts hurt/comfort #min yoongi fic #min yoongi x reader #yoongi x reader #min yoongi #omega! reader #bts a/b/o au

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hangovercurse · 4 years

Text

Teeny Tiny Secret

After months of trying, you and Colson finally get those two pink lines… the day before tour starts.

Request: “I know that requests are closed, but I HAD to share this before it left my mind. When you have an opportunity, could you please write a story where y/n is in super early (not showing or anything) stages of pregnancy and on tour with mgk. She & Colson make a plan to keep it from the bandmates for now. It becomes difficult when he becomes super over protective (not letting her carry anything, not wanting the guys to crowd her), unconsciously put his hand on her stomach, and ordering non-alcoholic drinks for her. The band suspects something. Y/n talks with him to try to get him to calm down a little. It works until the guys ask you both about it directly and Colson's the first to crack.”

Colson Baker x Reader

Warnings: Cursing

A/N: Y’all are all up in that spring baby fever… this is like my 3rd or 4th baby request recently

Word Count: 2211

You and Colson had been talking about having a second kid for months but stopped trying a few weeks before tour started. You didn’t think it had worked until you woke up three days before tour and rushed to the bathroom, morning sickness wrecking your body. Colson felt you getting out of bed and followed a few minutes later, tiredly. When he found you hunched over the toilet, his whole demeaner changed.

You knew for sure the day before tour, after multiple pregnancy tests you had gone to see an OBGYN for confirmation. Sure enough, you were pregnant. The universe sure knew the definition of ironic timing.

Colson’s immediate reaction was to have you stay home. “All the traveling and partying isn’t gonna be good for him.” He said, pacing around your bedroom while you laid on the bed. “Tour life is not good for babies.”

You raised your eyebrow, “him? It’s been one day and you’re already setting unrealistic expectations for our unborn child.” You joked, a small smile on your lips.

Colson’s mouth gaped before he continued, “Y/N, we need to be serious about this. You can’t come on tour if you’re pregnant.”

You rolled your eyes, “Colson, I am not letting you leave me here while I am pregnant. I’ll be fine. I won’t drink and I’ll take it easy. You just have to make sure the guys don’t smoke around me and we’ll be fine.”

His eyes went wide. “Shit, the boys.” He paused to think as confusion crossed you. “If the boys find out about this they’ll freak out and then the whole tour is gonna be a shit show.”

It was kind of funny how much more worried he was than you were. “Babe, come here.” You motioned for him to come sit in the bed with you to which he complied. You leaned your back against the headboard, expecting him to follow. Instead, he laid so his head was next to your stomach. He pressed a small kiss into it, making your heart fluttered, the reality of the situation hitting you and making you insanely happy. “Why are you so worried?” You asked him softly, combing your hand through his hair.

He reached, moving your shirt up so he could kiss your bare stomach. He mumbled against your skin, “I think I wanna keep this a secret for now.” You hummed and he continued, “just for us, y’know? I wanna enjoy this.”

You nodded, “I’m still coming on tour with you, though. I don’t wanna be alone right now.”

He smiled against your stomach, finally moving up to sit next to you, pulling you towards him for a soft kiss. His hand went to your stomach, rubbing circles into the skin. “I can’t believe we’re gonna have a fucking baby.”

You smiled against his lips, a thought popping into your head, “can we tell Casie at least?” His eyes lit up at your suggestion, a quick nod of his head affirming the idea.

The next day was hectic, as all first days were. You had gotten a list of everything you could and couldn’t do from your doctor, and the all-clear to fly for the first trimester. So, you and Colson found yourself with the crew at LAX airport bright and early in the morning. Ashleigh passed you an itinerary, letting you know that you would all be meeting the bus in Cleveland, where the first show was.

Colson’s arm hadn’t left your waist since you got to the airport, holding you to his side all morning. Occasionally you could feel his thumb rubbing circles near your stomach, something that was definitely becoming a habit of his. At one point he ended up standing behind you, hands resting on your stomach as he held you against him. You tried not to give anything away, but you found it adorable how excited he was. He wanted to be as close to the unborn baby as possible at all times, his hands constantly near your middle.

Eventually you arrived in Cleveland, walking down the long hallway to the baggage claim, taking in the small Cleveland hall of fame that the airport had created. You spotted your suitcase and went to grab it, but Colson beat you to it. “I got it, babe.” He gave you a look that let you know you wouldn’t be carrying anything.

You sighed, “I can get it Colson.” He shrugged, grabbing his bag off of the carousel next. The man now had a large duffel bag slung over his shoulder and two suitcases in his hands. “Seriously, it’s not that heavy.”

He shook his head, “I’m not letting you carry anything heavy. I can do it.” You sighed but let him, knowing you wouldn’t win this battle.

Unbeknownst to you, Baze had seen the whole interaction and was very confused.

Later, once you had arrived at the arena, you were hanging in the dressing room with Slim and Irv on the couch. You guys weren’t really talking about anything in particular, mostly just cracking jokes about Rook’s outfit for the night.

When the younger boy heard Slim say he looked like “if Willow Smith and Gerard Way were put into a blender,” he came over, blunt in his hand.

Rook started jokingly arguing with Slim and you were all laughing at his distress. In the middle of their argument, however, Colson came over and grabbed the blunt out of Rook’s hand. He put it out in an ashtray before returning to you, squeezing himself between you and Irv.

Everyone, including you, stared at him, dumfounded. “Dude why the fuck-“ Rook started, only for Colson to cut him off.

“You shouldn’t smoke in here.” He shrugged, arms wrapping around you. He squeezed your waist, letting you know why he really did it. You were somewhat thankful; smoke was bad for the baby. But there are less obvious ways to have gone about that.

Rook grumbled but didn’t attempt to light another one. Slim looked at you, an eyebrow raised in question. You shrugged your shoulders, pretending to act innocently naïve to Colson’s behaviors.

Eventually the three boys travelled from the couch, leaving you and Colson alone. “Babe, you gotta try and be a little more subtle about that shit.” You mumbled, turning to face him.

He scrunched his eyebrows, “he shouldn’t be smoking around you. What else was I supposed to do?”

You sighed, “I don’t know, but that wasn’t subtle. If you keep treating me differently, they’re gonna figure out that something’s up.”

Colson lets out a breath through his nose, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “I’m sorry, I just don’t want anything to happen to…” he trailed off, trying to keep a low profile.

“I know you’re just being careful. It’s sweet, and I really appreciate it. But either we tell the guys what’s going on or we figure out how to be more subtle.” You thought you guys were being quiet, but once again Baze was standing just within earshot, hearing your entire conversation.

Colson demanded you stay backstage instead of in front of the gates like normal tours. “I don’t care if they think something’s up, you are not getting anywhere near that crowd.”

This was something you could actually agree on, not wanting any crazy fangirls to try and reach over the barricade and hurt you by accident (it had happened before). So, you were stood backstage before the concert, like normal, only this time you had a spot next to the stage picked out just for you to watch. Colson came over to you, jumping up and down in excitement.

You giggled at his happy demeanor, feeding off his energy. “Good luck kiss?” You offered to which he happily nodded. You pulled him in by his shoulders, intending to give him a soft kiss. Colson being Colson, however, decided that this was the perfect time for an extremely heated make out session.

You didn’t complain much as his hands explored your waist, paying special attention to your stomach, where a small bump would soon be forming. His lips against yours were heaven.

“Okay loverboy!” Ashleigh called, making him pull away from your lips but he kept himself close to you. “You’re on.”

He nodded towards her, giving you one last peck before running off to the stage. Before he left, his hands lingered on your stomach just a little longer than normal, his eyes glancing down to it for a split second.

Then you watched the love of your life run towards the stage, a grin on his face. “I love you!” You called. He turned to you right before he got on stage and mouthed the words back to you, knowing you couldn’t hear him anymore. You smiled, the sight of him living his dream making your heart melt.

Slim was on the side of the stage closest to you, and had caught the last moments of your intimacy, including Colson’s attention to your stomach. He perked and eyebrow at the sight but shook it off as Colson being into some weird new thing.

After the show, everyone was hyped up on adrenaline and alcohol. The crew decided to move the party to a nearby club. Colson wanted to take you back to the bus and stay there with you all night, but you made him go. “Colson, I have been in this condition for all of 3 days. I am fine. You just finished the first show of your tour. We,” you pointed between the two of you, “are going out to celebrate, even if that means I can only drink water or pop.”

He rolled his eyes but gave in, letting you drag him down the street towards the rest of your friends. When you got to the club, you grabbed a table with Ash, Irv, Baze, and Slim while Colson took Rook to get drinks for everyone.

When the pair got back, they started handing out drinks. Colson set a glass of water in front of you, causing the group to raise eyebrows at you two, which you just shrugged off, sipping the water. As much as you would have loved to get wasted with your friends, you knew it would hurt the baby. You tried to act as nonchalant about it as possible, realizing that it was gonna be hard to hide your secret if you got water every time you went out.

This was going to be a long 9 months.

“I wanna dance.” Ashleigh said, grabbing Irv and Rook and dragging them to the floor. You grinned, about to stand up and join them when you felt a hand on your thigh. You turned towards Colson, who was currently stopping you from having fun, giving him a glare.

He shook his head slightly at you, leaning close to you to whisper in your ear. “There’s a lot of people here, I don’t want you to get hurt.”

You sighed and rolled your eyes, whispering back, “can you ease up a little bit, please? I’ll be careful. I want to have a little fun before I’m not able to move at all.”

His face was stern, the two of you having a silent argument with your eyes. You pleaded with him, trying to get him to crack but he just shook his head.

Meanwhile Baze and Slim watched you two, trying to figure out how the hell you were communicating without actually talking. “Is everything okay with you two?” Slim asked, pulling your attention to the two men.

You nodded, smiling, “yeah, we’re great.”

Baze cocked his head, “you sure? Because he’s” he pointed at Colson, “acting like you’re pregnant or something.”

You felt Colson’s hand on your thigh tighten, his entire body stiffening. You giggled, trying to play off the comment. Baze started laughing the moment he saw Colson’s expression, which you turned to see was like a deer caught in headlights. Slim’s eyes went wide, “holy shit, for real? Congrats guys!”

You laughed, rubbing Colson’s shoulder, “good job, babe. You did a great job at keeping this between us.”

He looked down at you with a sheepish expression, “sorry, I thought we were being subtle.” He mumbled and you laughed.

“Cols, I was being subtle. You were acting like I was gonna die if someone so much as touched me.” Slim and Baze chuckled at this, and you turned to explain. “We found out for sure yesterday and didn’t want anyone to get freaked out or throw off the tour or anything. So, Colson here,” your head nodded towards your boyfriend, “thought we could keep it a secret for now.”

He frowned, his friends still laughing at him. “Dude, you are the worst secret keeper ever, man.” Baze said. “It took one push and you cracked.” You giggled, nodding your head in agreement. “But seriously, congrats guys.”

“Thanks, B.” You said, “but listen, both of you. If anyone on this tour tells me what I can and can’t do because I’m pregnant, I’ll cut their dick off.” The two boys nodded in understanding.

“Am I really that bad at keeping secrets?” Colson asked, still upset that he spilled.

You giggled and nodded, “Yeah, darling. You are.”

#mgk #mgk imagine #mgk fluff #machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly imagine #Colson baker #colson x reader #colson baker imagine #colson baker fluff #colson imagine

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halfdemonsinyourarea · 3 years

Text

Moroha’s Cold

Moroha is sick so Inuyasha goes out to collect the ingredients for his homemade medicine.

Kagome was worried. Moroha’s fever hadn’t broken yet and she had already spent a full day in bed. She was shivering, but the mild wet spots on the sheets suggested she hadn’t stopped sweating either.

She was only 6 years old! Seeing her bigs eyes squeeze shut in discomfort and her sweet voice groan in pain made Kagome feel so guilty. She knew she shouldn’t have let her play outside in the rain with Inuyasha for so long!

“Her hands were so cold when she came in, why didn’t you bring her inside sooner?” Kagome scolded Inuyasha, who sat by their daughter’s bedside.

“Keep your voice down, she said she had a bad headache!” Inuyasha snapped back in a hushed voice. “Look, she seemed perfectly fine to me. Besides, there’s nothing wrong with getting a little wet from time to time. Kids play in the rain!”

“Yeah, when it’s a little warmer out, they do! I’m surprised at your recklessness, Inuyasha.” Kagome switched the warm, damp cloth on Moroha’s forehead with a cooler one. “She needs to get some food in her system. It’s been a while since she last ate something.”

Inuyasha perked up, watching as Moroha twitched and grunted. Why couldn’t she just lay still? He hated seeing his little girl in so much pain.

“M-mommy…” she mumbled, gripping at her blanket.

“Hey there, Moroha. Could you possibly stomach some food?” Kagome stroked her daughter’s hair. Moroha leaned into the touch, slowly shaking her head. “How about something warm to drink, then?” Moroha then nodded, opening her eyes to see the concerned looks on both her parents faces.

“Alright then. Kagome, you stay here with Moroha. I’m gonna got out for a short while, okay?” Inuyasha squeezed Kagome’s shoulder on his way out of the house. Though he didn’t specify his reason for leaving, Kagome trusted he would come back with a solution for Moroha’s cold.

Inuyasha made a beeline to Lady Kaede, who was currently harvesting in the garden. “Hey Kaede, I’m looking for some specific herbs and roots-”

“Isn’t that Kagome’s job, Inuyasha? Why is it ye who comes here to ask?” She asked casually, focusing on her task.

“Because she’s taking care of Moroha and I’m the only one who knows how to make my mother’s medicine!” Inuyasha huffed. “I’m in a bit of a hurry, so I thought I’d ask you first before running out into the forest to look for them myself.”

“I’m surprised ye thought to ask instead of steal from our gardens!” Kaede noted, rising from the garden. She approached Inuyasha who stood at the edge of the garden’s fence. “Which ones are ye seeking?”

Inuyasha listed the ingredients to which Kaede hummed at. “I see. Unfortunately, some of the herbs ye listed can only be grown atop mountain peaks and the roots near hot springs. As for the animal livers, I suppose ye can take from our farmhouse. If they know ye taking them for the sake of young Moroha, they’ll comply.”

Inuyasha nodded once before taking off into the village. If the animal livers were the closest ingredients to find, he was going to collect them first.

The villagers, upon learning of Moroha’s cold, practically ushered Inuyasha to the farmhouse to collect the animals needed for the potion. Once he got the ones he needed, he then headed for the hills.

“Where’s daddy?” Moroha moaned, pulling the blanket up closer to her chin. Kagome sighed, gently rubbing the poor girl’s aching feet. Inuyasha was taking longer than usual and it was getting late. “Daddy...”

“Shhh, I know Moroha, I’m missing him too. He’ll be right back.” Kagome cooed, looking between Moroha and the exit.

It was very dark out and Kagome was worried that maybe Inuyasha had run into trouble while out in the forest. She was just about to leave Moroha’s bedside to check outside when she heard footsteps approaching the house.

“Sorry for taking so long!”

Inuyasha pushed back the curtain and entered. He was carrying a pink, metallic thermos, an item that Kagome had brought over from her era. Inuyasha never really appreciated it until now. “I brought you medicine, Moroha. Could you sit up for me?” He knelt by her bedside, opposite from Kagome, who was frowning. “What did I do now?” Inuyasha whined as he helped Moroha sit up.

“You worried me, that’s all.” Kagome muttered.

“I’m here now, aren’t I?” Inuyasha retorted, supporting Moroha’s head with one hand. Once she caught the smell of the hot potion, she gagged.

“Ugh, gross!” She scrunched up her nose, turning her face away from the thermos. “I don’t wanna!”

Kagome recognized that smell. Years ago, when she was still traveling with the gang to find shards of the Sacred Jewel, she caught a terrible cold and went home to recover. Inuyasha came to her with a cup of the same potion. It still smelled just as bad as she remembered.

Kagome never really found out what was in it, but it didn’t matter since it made her feel much better almost instantly. She immediately forgave Inuyasha for taking so long, knowing that his potion would cure Moroha of her nasty cold.

“I know it stinks, but it will make you better, dear.” Kagome encouraged, giving Inuyasha a knowing look. His face softened and he lifted the thermos to Moroha’s tightly closed lips. “If you don’t want to taste it, then hold your breath while you drink it. Okay?” Kagome offered.

Moroha considered it for a moment before she finally opened her mouth and let her father tip the thermos to her lips, letting the broth pour down her throat. Moroha held her breath as she gulped it down, her brow scrunched up as she tried to ignore the taste.

“There’s a good girl,” Inuyasha praised her once she finished the whole thing. He lay her down and pulled the blanket up to her chin before running his fingers through her hair. “You should feel better soon.”

Sure enough, Moroha’s shivering subsided, her muscles relaxed, and the redness on her cheeks and forehead began to fade. She let out a soft exhale and closed her eyes.

“Thank you,” she said before she drifted off, her mouth hanging open as she slept.

Once the two were sure she was asleep, Inuyasha and Kagome kissed her goodnight and left the room, happy to finally see Moroha resting peacefully.

“So, what took you so long?” Kagome asked, this time without the intention of antagonizing Inuyasha.

“Some of the ingredients needed for my mom’s medicine are harder to find than others. The livers were the easiest to collect, though-”

“L-liver?” Kagome paused, eyes wide. Inuyasha then realized what he had said. “You mean there’s liver in the broth?”

“I don’t see why it matters as long as it works!” Inuyasha argued. “So what if there’s boar liver, carp liver, and chicken liver? Liver’s the best thing for medicine!”

All of those livers were in the broth Moroha and I drank? Kagome thought to herself. No wonder it smelled so bad.

“Thank goodness Moroha didn’t ask what was in it or else she never would had drank it.” She said, looking back at the house. “By the way...” she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, “I’m sorry for getting so upset. I was worried about Moroha and you were gone longer than I expected. I thought maybe something happened to you.”

Inuyasha snorted. “Heh, that’s silly, as if anything could get in my way!” He bragged, tossing the thermos from hand to hand. Normally, Kagome would scold Inuyasha for acting so arrogant, but after all the trouble he went through to make the potion, he didn’t need to hear it now. “Don’t worry, Kagome. Nothing can stop me from protecting Moroha or you.”

“I know.” Kagome took Inuyasha’s arm, leaning into his side.

Inuyasha placed his chin atop Kagome’s hair and inhaled her scent. She was finally calm which in turn made him relax. It was a long day for the three of them. “C’mon,” he then escorted her down the path, leading Kagome to the village, “let’s go thank Kaede and the villagers for their help.”

“That’s awfully nice of you, Inuyasha!” Kagome tilted her head, impressed with his manners.

“I’m not as brash as you think I am!” He defended, making Kagome giggle.

#inuyasha #inuyasha x kagome #inuyasha and kagome #inuyasha fandom #kagome #kagome and inuyasha #moroha #yashahime #beniyasha #fanfic #inuyasha fanfiction #sesshomaru #Rin #shipping #miroku #Sango

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thesunshinebunny · 3 years

Text

When the world falls apart, the only thing we can hold onto is ourselves (Part VI)

Series Master list

pairing: canon Eren Jaeger x reader

content: Angst, unstable relationship, breakup, smut/nswf+18, major character death, violence, blood (obviously), war (pretty obvious)

summary: War and hate. It’s what defined the world at this exact moment. You failed your comrades, and by failing them, you failed yourself. Your relationship is hanging by a thread and your enemies will not only be found on the other side of the sea, but also in the mind of the person you love the most. How will you take the reins in the face of so much destruction?

Chapter summary: After weeks of tension and mutual pining, Eren and reader finally succumb to their most carnal and animalistic desires.

Word Count: 7.9k

His cold hands were still resting on my skin. The body heat of each of us was reversing until we became the temperature of the other. In what had been burning for a moment, now my cheeks felt cold, icy, the skin on my chest and hips began to feel discomfort and the wind that was blowing did nothing but make me shiver. Instead, Eren's hands became warm, pleasant to the touch, but uncomfortable and unsure at the same time towards my sanity. The fingers of his left hand were moving over my hip in an attempt to massage a bruise that had just risen above the bone, a bruise that I had just noticed when his hand moved slightly up my shirt to lay flat on my skin and flesh. His right hand, still positioned on my cheek, ran the few tears that continued to fall, just as the trail of the already dry traces that this salty stream had left behind disappeared.

The situation wasn’t comforting at all. The burning sensation and fever that had reigned over my body moments before, had dissipated like a bucket of cold water on a small fire. Now I was cold, stiff, shivering and with memories of previous years haunting my mind, memories that once were to be saved to treasure when we were all old and at peace, but now it seemed that they only brought sadness and misfortune.

My eyes were fixed, unseeing, on Eren's bare chest. His skin showed no signs of hits or bruises like mine, damn it, the only thing that could be distinguished was his beefy abs, worked for years, stained with dirt and a few tiny blades of grass stuck to them. I watched as his chest swelled with each inhalation he took, his breathing calmed, no traces of the hectic fight or the makeout session. My hands, already tired from continuing to maintain pressure, now I limited myself to moving my fingers from the inside and out of my palm, occasionally brushing Eren's pelvis with my nails. I stretched them out, letting my fingertips rest on his hip, the small leaves adhering to his skin tickled my fingers and with slight movements I took them out one by one and left them on the grass around us... Some of them stuck to my fingers because of the humidity and the mud accumulated on the rib.

I cleaned them with my palms, but noticing that they didn’t come off easily, I simply ran my hands through my pants, staining them even more with dirt, some leaves fell to the floor due to friction in front of the fabric, others were beautifully placed on the thighs, in U-shapes or even folded into a perfect spiral. Some even broke in two and left little green spots on top of the brown ones. Eren withdrew his hand from my cheek when felt my fingers and nails stop passing through his pelvis and began to play with the small leaves. His hand removed mine from my thighs and ran every trace of wet leaves to the floor in one simple, clean motion. Now that hand was the one that rested on the flesh of my left thigh, moving up and down, occasionally grasping the soft parts and squeezing them from time to time.

I placed my hands over my thighs again, this time over the connection between my legs and my hips, preventing some unseemly movement of Eren's hand from reaching that area without my consent. I fixed my eyes on these and just at that moment I could notice how pale they were, the bruises were still visible and the blood had completely dried, the knuckles were red and little skin began to come out as bruises began to form on top all the long fingers. My left wrist had received the same treatment, a huge bruise covered a large part of the ligament and the bone of the arm, it was even slightly displaced, probably dislocated, but I didn’t feel any pain, not even when moving it, even if it was a few centimeters. As for my right hand, I had only received a few blows on the knuckles, the occasional broken fingernail, but without showing the lower flesh.

My palms, well, I don't know if I could call them palms anymore. I turned both hands to check them and the sight didn’t make me feel better, it only made me relapse into the realization of how mistreated my body was; both were full of dirt, green spots, the product of the viscous liquid that the broken leaves left, and dried blood, apart from the large superficial cut on the right palm. They looked like shit, I have to admit. I let out a long sigh at such a miserable image. My eyes burned, but I couldn't give myself the freedom to close them because I knew that if I did, more tears would shoot out.

"Hey" Eren's hand that was for minutes massaging my hip was placed under my chin and raised my head once more, without heaviness or restrictions on my part.

My view was blocked by his long fingers, which like his torso, didn’t show any sign of injury or bruises, except for a few small traces of dried blood, my blood. I couldn’t see with complete clarity if his fingertips were equally stained, I tried to turn the head to where he was caressing me a few moments ago to find some indication of blood or injury, but Eren prevented me by bringing my face back to his, lifting it more and bringing it closer to his eyes. They were the same as I had seen them a few minutes ago, greyish turquoise and glowly. God, that glow, that damn glow. Within all possible situations, in any place, they had to return to shine here and now. It wasn’t fair.

It wasn't fair at all.

I directed my hands to his face, placing each one on his cheeks and cradling him between them. I couldn't tell if the action caught him off guard, what I can say is that I could feel, for a thousandth of a second, his eyes widen at the touch. Color that had been lost for months had returned for a moment, as a small blush on his cheeks. For a moment, I swear for a moment, the Eren I knew was back. My eyes inspected his, trying to find that color that I had spotted, trying to find a sign of the Eren that I had loved so much, a sign that he was still there, hidden, curled up like an infant before the oh so many shadows surrounded him.

"You have beautiful eyes" It was a cruel reality but true in the same way.

His eyes were always one of his most impressive features I had ever noticed from a person. Huge, with a lot of accumulated life, a strong and bright color, unable to take my eyes off them. Those same eyes that brought security were the ones that made me doubt my actions and generated deep sadness in me; Those eyes that once made me tremble with exaltation now made me cry.

It was the same eyes that I had lost myself in on a hot sunny day at the cabin along with Levi and our little squad. That spring day, pollen in the air, the cabin full of dust and cobwebs, the boys doing their homework, while Eren and I were cleaning up. Each one cleaning in our small space, without speaking to us unless necessary, such as asking for help to move a piece of furniture if one couldn’t, or ask for the cleaning tool the other had to clean a small cobweb under a window frame. The dirty and torn glasses, in need of a delicate hand that could remove all traces of the excessive abuse during the years that this small home was disabled. I decided to clean all glasses on the lower level, leaving Eren to clean the door on both the outside and inside.

As I was cleaning the window closest to the front door, I noticed how the frames were starting to crack, a few splinters coming to the surface and being capable of injuring anyone who was not careful enough. I ran the rag through a fairly open crack, trying to remove as many splinters as possible, even dislodging the broken piece out of the frame entirely. Little by little the wood was detaching, some pieces stuck to the skin of my fingers, others fell right on my feet, and when I was finally able to completely detach the broken piece, I left it on the table in full view of all of them, so that when someone re-entered the cabin, I could warn them of the care with the respective window.

I decided to investigate more parts of the frame to see if I found more loose pieces when out of the corner of my eye I saw a figure move outside the window. During my little out of all reality I had completely forgotten that Eren was cleaning right on the other side of the wall. I could see him perfectly from where I was standing. His arms, while long compared to mine, didn’t reach up to the wood of the door, having to stand on tiptoe and stretch a little to reach the dust that had accumulated in that area. His hair gathered in a cloth, preventing dirt from falling on it, made a funny image at the same time... almost cute. His young face, now half covered with the cloth, was getting younger and the way in which he stretched, reminded me of the image of a little boy in the middle of the bazaar of my town trying to reach a basket of cookies without the mother found out.

But it was neither his figure nor the way his hair was flattened and took that shape little by little, but the way in which the sunset sun reflected exactly on his eyes, turning them a lush green, much lighter and more colorful. Although his eyes were directed towards the door, I could see them without complications; I could see his eyelashes rise up and the smallest of the ends bent and tangled between them, I could see the small shiny points turn a warm color while the clean wood of the door was reflected in the iris.

At some point, I opened the window outward, allowing me to stretch my body and settle on the lower wood, resting my abdomen and elbows, holding my head in my hands as I watched the incredible scene in front of me. The sun's rays hit Eren's body, giving him an orange ring of light over his entire figure, the cloth about to come loose and fall from his head because of how badly tied it was and his hands were dirty while also being delicate when holding the rag between his fingers, perhaps an act Levi had taught him while he was alone in his squad.

The rag slipped from his hand and the moment he reached down to grab it, his face turned straight to mine, allowing me to see his eyes much more conspicuously. The play of light and shadow, the way that nature itself reflected in them was the greatest work of art that I had ever seen, perhaps it was due to the fact that I hadn’t seen many people with green eyes, much less with that tonality. of green that Eren had inherited. What beautiful eyes. I thought I had said it to myself, but apparently I had unconsciously let it out in a slight sigh, as Eren raised his head in less than a second, straight at me. His eyes were wide and his face reflected surprise.

Those eyes in which I had been spellbound for long minutes were staring at me, penetrating strongly on mine, as if looking for a sign that his owner had clearly heard what the wind had brought to his ears.

"What? Did you get lost in my incredible eyes? " his humorous words and his wicked smile were what brought me back to reality. They were like an open hand spanking across the face.

My face was decomposed for a moment, eyes open and my mouth ajar, even my hands stopped supporting my head causing me to almost fall to the ground. I tried to compose myself as best I could, fixing my shirt, eliminating the wrinkles that had formed from being with my torso on the uncomfortable wood, and pulling some hair that had fallen over my eyes to one side.

"Yeah, you wish" I threw my body back and stretched out my arm to close the window, but not before giving him a half smile and admiring his eyes for the last time before going back to work.

Now I was in front of those eyes once more, with that memory stabbing a knife in the middle of my heart and mind, but with my body being drawn to them like that hot spring day.

I brought my face close to his, one hand running through his hair while the other roamed his chapped, swollen lips. The moment felt soft, calm, even though the weight on our shoulders was harder and more invasive. His hand on my chin was now caressing my neck lightly, as if he were passing a feather over my jugular, the hand that had been caressing my leg, now had placed on my lower back, stretching the fingers and feeling the greater amount of skin under his as much as possible. We both leaned forward and when our lips met again, time seemed to melt.

This time, there was no fight between our lips, there was no resistance, we just dedicated ourselves to melting into each other along with time. Everything felt delicate, Eren's touch on my back, my fingers on his scalp, his hand on my neck pulling me closer to him. Chest to chest, an almost impossible union for less garments that both of us had on, but still it was enough to feel the beating of the other's heart. No heartbeat was neither too fast nor too slow, they were just in perfect harmony, it was… perfect.

I could feel his lashes brush against mine with every turn of the head I took to sink the kiss, his locks tickling my cheeks, and his tongue, intrusive as it was, was welcome. My senses intensified, causing me to wrap myself in a sea of sensations and little by little the current took me to the deepest waters, feeling how the weight of my body was getting smaller and smaller, as if my body itself made smaller.

I felt vulnerable and it was the same Eren who brought these senses to the surface, the same one who could put them in a bottle, throw them into the sea and lose them in the waves, at the same time that he could bring them back with the simple movement of his hand.

We parted ways to reconnect once more, this time harder and needy. His hands were placed on either side of my waist, pulling me closer to him with more force, connecting our torsos even more and bumping our hips. I groaned when I felt his crotch against mine, I was perfectly positioned on him and every feverish kiss, every movement, made me grind on him. His tongue ran through my mouth as if it were the last time he would do it, it felt abrupt, as if a prayer was taking place, wishing that we would never disconnect from each other. He ran through every part of me, colliding with mine even my teeth, he was desperate and it showed. His teeth took my lower lip between them, biting and tugging slightly, giving me the perfect opportunity to elicit a guttural moan as I felt his cock already erect against my entrance.

He took my mouth back into his, sliding his hands down to the soft flesh of my ass, each hand over the round cheeks, and squeezed, marking his fingers hard over them. He took the opportunity to guide me on his cock back and forth, movements slow but accurate and hard, each grind felt like fire on my center, traveling up my back towards the brain. I was beginning to feel light in the head, my coherence was clouded and the only thing I could think was more, more, more.

At this point I just grunting at every grind he made me do, lifting me slightly to come down again and position myself even closer to his crotch. I bit his upper lip in an attempt to stifle a moan as I felt a wet spot begin to form in the middle of my pants and his dick leaning right in that same spot.

"Don't keep the moans to yourself" he lifted his lips from mine and moved down from my cheek to my neck.

I kept grinding on him involuntarily, no longer with his help, but still feeling his colossal hands squeeze my ass and hold me steady in my movements. He didn't want me to stop and honestly, I didn’t to stop either. The pressure I felt on his dick was too much, even his lips would detach from my skin from time to time, releasing small but notorious grunts, given the pleasure that this simple but filthy action generated to us.

"Fuck, Eren" I moaned as I hit his pelvis once more, this time harder than before. I felt him chuckling as I noticed how my moans began to come out of my vocal chords, with no intention of stopping. The friction felt delicious, we were both getting off with each other without even being in the main event.

My fingers tangled in his hair, drawing his face impossibly closer to my neck. I felt his lips leave a thin wet line on the hollow of my clavicle and sting lightly with his teeth. His hands couldn't stay still, the more friction we generated, the more I grinded on him, the more they moved through my body; they passed over my thighs, my back, the sides of my stomach to my chest.

I expanded my chest on the touch of him, preparing myself for what was to come, letting out a groan as I felt his fingers reach the limits of my nipples. They were a little cold and generated a perfect contrast with the heat that began to emanate from within, starting to make my nipples erect under his fingertips. Took one between his two fingers and the heat that was gradually forming in the tip of my stomach was getting bigger. The need for him not only generated great pleasure on my fibers, but also impatience, Eren was characterized by being a damn teaser when it came to sex.

His fingers eased my poor, swollen nipple and pulled my shirt off my shoulders, leaving only my leather suit like Eren, both now in direct contact with our body heat. The shirt fell to the ground at the same time that his lips were detached from my neck, he dedicated himself to arranging the shirt on the grass while still having me straddling him. The same happened with his jacket and shirt, which had been much closer to us than I had imagined. The three garments made a poor case of cover on the grass, but that was enough for Eren to roll me onto his back and settle on top of me.

Lips against lips, hands running over each other's body, savoring on our fingertips the heat of the skin, each muscle and bone marked, the hair of both getting tangled up in the environment, spread over the fabric in my case or Eren's falling towards my face if not spread over my fingers.

Eren settled to the side, leaving a small space between us, and let his hand run over my stomach, slowly, delicately, roaming around my entire torso until it reached my hips. His hand stopped to explore, feeling the bones outlining the body and the beginnings of the legs. His touch was so soft that he even tickled me. His fingers reached a sensitive area, drawing little giggles against my lips, but Eren's intentions weren’t to make me laugh and they were more than clear. Noticing my giggles climbing, he took the opportunity to reach under my pants, even under my underwear. Now the giggles were transformed into moans and sighs when I felt his finger brush my most needy area.

He was starting to burn, little beads of sweat were forming on the back of my neck and forehead, and he wasn't being fair at all. His finger was just brushing, again, and again, and again through my center, giving me the necessary pleasure to moan in his mouth, but never enough. It wasn't enough and Eren knew it, he was torturing me in the most delicious and infuriating way he knew. I guided my hand to his, undoing the buttons on the stained pants, now having more space and comfort, and placed it over his, applying just enough pressure for him to realize how needy I was.

And it worked. Eren heeded my silent prayer and inserted a finger, coming into contact with my wet walls. I moaned as I felt his finger slide slowly inside, his simple finger never fails to make me see stars and this case was no different. It's pumping slowly, too slowly, too much. This was no time for delicacies. The tip brushed the right places, driving the heat in my stomach to expand more, more and more.

"Eren" I growled hoping that my pathetic voice carried enough prayer to give me what I needed.

Eren inserted another finger, twisting it and applying more pressure to my sore spot. I felt like my body was becoming lighter as the pleasure was taking possession. Each twist, each impulse, each pressure was like an electric shock on my spine that ran through the veins and spread throughout the body, until there was no space left untouched. My back arched as I felt both fingers brush against my sweet spot, making Eren giggle over my ear.

"How do my fingers feel inside?" he whispered dangerously into my ear, biting the lobe and generating a new electrical reaction over me.

It was impossible for me to speak, the only thing that came out of my mouth were moans after moans. My free hand went to Eren's neck, I pulled him as close as I could to my face. My gaze was cloudy and narrowed, it was difficult to maintain control. His eyes were not on mine, rather they were on my crotch, seeing how his fingers disappeared without difficulty inside me and came out again and again, wetting them in the process. I tried to draw him to my lips to avoid giving an answer to his question, which had entered one ear and left the other. His fingers wreaked havoc inside me and every time I tried to open my mouth to answer, a new moan came out, making me impossible every second. I was sure that if this continued, I would end up forgetting the question.

"Say it or I'll stop and I'll leave you naked for others to find you" his voice had deepened, and being so close to my ear it only generated more vibrations under my spine.

My head was spinning, trying to formulate an answer before stammering it. It was difficult considering that his fingers had picked up the pace, moving in and out of my hole with a steady rhythm and able to propel my body along with them, and his breath over my ear and neck.

"It - ah - it feels good" it really felt good, I hadn't felt this good in months.

My answer made him smile, apart from twisting his fingers once more before applying pressure to my weak point. I couldn't tell if what came out of my mouth was a moan or a scream, or perhaps a guttural groan, but what I was sure was the fact I was close, too close, to cum. I felt like that heat at the tip of my stomach expanded more, almost without having more space in my body to expand. I was close, my legs twisting on the clothing, spreading it and disarming the covering, and just as I was about to feel the long-awaited launch, it stopped. The damned bastard had stopped.

My eyes went wide at the desperation in my body to break free. Internally I was screaming, I was angry but the trembling of my legs and my arms didn't let me do much. He wanted to curse him, ask him a thousand and a few things, demand an explanation of why in his right mind, if he still had one, it occurred him to stop. Before I could utter a word, Eren straightened up and placed his hands on my hips, exactly above the limits of my pants, squeezing them firmly but gently. I looked at him expecting him to do something, but when he didn't move after a few seconds, I looked up at his. He was looking directly at me, and he was the one waiting for a signal to continue.

I swallowed hard, placed my hands over his and guided them down, raising my butt just enough that we could remove the annoying garment. In our rush and clouded heads, we didn't realize that the shoes were still on, the pants got stuck, and we only realized our mistake when we couldn't get it down after multiple fussing. We turn our gazes to the pants, then to us. We started laughing, it was like reliving our first time, clumsy, inexperienced, but at the same time funny and careful.

Eren shed my shoes, trying to caress my legs every time the worn leather slipped off me. From so much being using them for two days in a row, using them not only for walking and treating patients, but also for running where they shouldn't be used, the leather had stuck to my legs, marking them and leaving blisters and bruises from the knees to the toes. Eren ran his hands over each one, being extra careful when he came across a blister or where the flesh was hot red. He stroked each mark that had formed on the skin, running down to his ankles, lifted my right leg over his shoulder, and began to kiss those same marks around my foot. The kisses were soft, as if it were the skin of a newborn baby, his strong but secure hand held the inside of my leg and massaged the area, which I had not realized how tense and beaten it was until I stared at the scene Eren was putting on.

Between that tour inspecting the discomfort in my leg, my eyes were at the mercy of Eren's, feverish and dark. My gaze, my half-parted lips and my ragged breathing was what Eren needed to place my other leg on his other shoulder and massage both equally, giving the same treatment that he gave to the right leg to the left. Now with half my body suspended in the air, I couldn't help but think about the notorious wet spot that surely had left seconds behind thanks to the excitement. I could feel it stick right in the middle of my crotch.

Without taking his eyes off mine, his fingers slowly descended to the strap of my underwear and slowly slid it over my legs until they reached my ankles. I pulled my legs away from his shoulders and pulled them together so he could peel off the fine fabric and discard it somewhere on the grass. My heart was beating uncontrollably in my chest, like I was about to shoot out. After Eren got rid of that miserable garment, I reconnected his lips to mine, stretching and spreading my legs so I could position myself between them. The kiss was short but effective, pulling me out of any thoughts that might have appeared without permission.

I felt Eren's hand on my leg, cupping below the knee and going palm down toward my ankle. His lips were now kissing my sternum, pressing gently on my rib cage. He looked at me, trying to find ... any reaction? Doubt? But there were none. I let my head fall back, letting my hand run through his hair as he roamed my chest and stretched my legs even more with his hands. Every now and then he bit my light skin with his teeth, generating gasps and grunts from me; Reactions that went straight to his cock, still covered and leaning against my core.

I raised my hips to connect with his dick, receiving a gasp from him as a groan escaped me as I felt him hard and throbbing against me. I hadn’t realized that Eren was just as excited as me, his kisses made thinking much more complicated, each pressure from his mouth made the knot in my lower stomach become more present. He went down, leaving a path of kisses for each part of my skin, until he reached my crotch and reached back to see how his work was reflecting in me.

He brought his face in front of where I needed it most and without being able to say anything to him, not even asking what I wanted, he leaned forward; I could feel how his eyes were fixed on me, his gaze penetrating and even if I wasn’t looking at him, I knew that he was observing every reaction, involuntary or not, on my face and on my body. He was so close that I could feel his breath on me, I waited patiently to feel his mouth on that area, but my mouth opened wide when I noticed that his tongue had gone directly to my thigh, giving it a long and wide lick against my fold.

He knew what he was doing, he knew it very well, and he knew he wasn't going to stop until he got what he wanted. Between licks, he gave himself the opportunity to bite the inside of my thigh, making me moan and, according to what he had told me once, were sweet and addictive.

"Eren-" my voice was half out when I felt his tongue pass my core.

He gave a long lick, not once but twice. My hand settled on the back of his head, trying to draw him closer to me. My fingers applied too much force just as my legs involuntarily closed over his head, crushing it against my thighs. He felt warm and soft, softer than his fingers, but at the same time it wasn't enough. It was not a virtue of me to be patient and knowing him, I knew that he would torture me and tease me until I was left as a wet and needy bundle, begging for a release. I was writhing and shaking, my thighs crushing his head more and more with each passage of his tongue as the arousal spread over my stomach.

He raised his hand to my chest, pinning me to the floor as he left cat licks on my crotch, the other instead going to his underwear, running it down far enough to remove his dick. In my damn delusion, he was preparing me to feel his fingers enter my wet hole again, but Eren had other plans. He grabbed the back of my thighs and wrapped them around his waist, positioning himself in between and letting his cock rest between my stomach. He moved his hips forward, giving him all the pleasure against my skin. I looked at him, my lips apart, releasing long sighs, waiting for him to move a little more or turn his attention back to me, avoiding giving his sweet toss a second time.

He guided the tip of his cock towards my entrance, trying to insert it without a little preparation before. Okay, I was wet, but the situation was getting unfair at any moment. Not only unfair, but also too fast and violent. He lunged in, making me scream at such intrusion, instead he groaning as he slid his cock through my walls.

"Fuck" he growled as he placed himself completely inside me.

After weeks, months, without any interaction, or anything like it, the feeling was overwhelming. My muscles flexed at his grip, fluttering around his throbbing, venous cock, his raspy, low voice continuing to send tingles around my spine. I didn't have time to fully adjust to him, moving quickly on top of me, thrusting in and out at a fast pace, hitting the areas most in need within me. It was pleasant, but it hurt, and discomfort outweighed pleasure.

"Wait, just-wait a minute" I tried to sound straight but his shoves clouded my mind, at the same time that they tensed my body, immobilizing me.

I brought a hand to his chest, trying to stop him, but I only made his thrusts go deeper, more intense from him.

"I said wait a fucking minute!"

I reached forward, now both of us face to face, without any bond between our bodies. My hands formed into fists and went straight to his shoulders, pushing him backwards, staying within the limits of our clothes. Without waiting a second, I straddled him, taking his cock right under my entrance. I felt it throbbing, spasming, the heat that emanated from my crotch was enough for him to growl through his teeth. I guided my hand to where our hips met, lifting a little to reach his cock without complications. I could feel every one of his prominent veins on the palm of my hand, it was radiating heat and starting to leak pre-cum from the tip. I ran my thumb through his veins, going from the base to the tip torturously slow. Pumping his cock firmly, examining his reactions; I felt like my ego was inflated when I saw him with his lips parted, moaning on my hand, it was like having him at my complete mercy. To be honest, seeing him in that state, needy, slowly breaking apart beneath me, was the boost I needed to completely destroy him, as he had broken me. I felt powerful and all I needed was to get his dirty cock in my hand and give him a hand job to have him like a wet stray dog.

But ... as I said before, patience was not my virtue, so just as quickly I had started pumping him, I quickly carried him towards my core, sliding his cock back inside, moaning down my throat as I did so. The way his body trembled at the feel of my walls contracting was delicious.

"Fuck you're so tight," he moaned with his jaw open.

Now it was me who created the rhythm, each thrust I took increased the speed slightly. I stood on his shoulders, moving my palms between his collarbone and his neck, I didn't know what to do with them and I couldn't keep them still. The excitement was building very well and my body was responding on its own. Eren placed one hand on my hip, helping me maintain my thrusts, while the other positioned himself in the crook of my neck, bringing my forehead against his.

"You like this, uh? Do you like to be fuckingthe damn traitor of the country?"

I did nothing but moan at such a vulgar comment, but worst of all, they had reached my crotch; my walls had twisted when I heard him so close to me. My voice had caught in my throat, suffocating me, nothing else came out of my mouth but combinations between moans and grunts. Eren seemed to like it as he began to move more vigorously, he sheathed himself completely inside me, opening his mouth to moan under his breath as he bottoms out.

"You feel so good baby, so so good, my good little baby"

I was tighter than other times, maybe the situation, maybe the position, but fuck the reason, it felt so, so good. I buried my face in the hollow of his shoulder to keep my moans from coming out more prominent, the way his cock settled inside me and brushed every wall virtuously made my body shudder and my eyes go blank. A thrust that touched my sore spot and pulled me closer to Eren at the way he thrust, made me bite his shoulder, hard and deep.

Eren let out a groan as he felt his skin break open and begin to bleed, I could feel the taste of iron on my mouth. It hadn't been my intention to hurt him, but I couldn't control my strength or the way my hips circled as the thrusts picked up speed.

He reached out his hand to grab my hair and bend my neck back, exposing my face to him.

"Shit, that's it baby, mount that cock, I know you like it" the way our hips moved up and down and back and forth in a fiery way until they reached the flush of butt made me shudder. The way he was buried in me seemed like he was trying to reach even deeper, trying to reach my stomach; and it was right there where I felt it most. "I know you love it, you always loved it"

Every movement of him in and out was majestic, it was the best I had felt in months, even better than our previous times. His movements grew steadier, faster, and harder. I felt my body tense up completely, I arched my back against him and kept moving my hips faster, having more friction to work with as I felt the orgasm reach me.

“Are you gonna cum? I can feel your walls tightening"

I nodded my head repeatedly, unable to formulate a word. Eren captured my mouth with his, moving us both at a speed I would never have imagined, our skin colliding over and over and over. The only thing around us was the rapid slapping of skin against skin, the dirty sound of my hole taking him so well, squeezing him more and more.

A strong thrust was what I needed to collapse. I screamed, not caring if anyone was near to listen. Eren's name slipped from my lips repeatedly, as if I was saying a prayer and he alone was my salvation. My back arched again, my hands went to his hair, tousling it and letting brown strands fall over his forehead. My body felt light, much lighter, as if the stress had been released along with the orgasm. I creamed on Eren's cock and his thighs, our legs were wet and my spasms moved any liquid in different directions over our bodies.

In my bliss I hadn’t realized that Eren had never stopped moving, the difference was he’s now going in and out more slowly, much more slowly than we had started.

While we were going slow, I was completely sensitive, and the more thrusts Eren made, the overstimulation took my body by leaps and bounds. No longer moans came from my mouth, but small and soft whines every time he buried himself inside me.

"I love you" his voice came out as a sigh, even lower than that, but loud enough for me to hear.

He froze me a second time, it was already becoming a bad habit on his part. His words were like a dagger to the heart, one that stabbed me over and over and over again. I felt my chest begin to ache, but our movements never stopped. Eren kept pounding against me, like he wanted to accompany his movements with his "sweet" words. My nails dug into his shoulders, trying to dissipate the emotional pain from my chest to the physical pain above him.

"Shut up" I tried to speak still with my head turning thousands of times, avoiding letting out a moan.

His cock kept pounding in just the right places, the rhythm our bodies kept was too sweet, my still erect nipples brushing against his chest, generating more friction than he wanted. His lips still on my neck, each thrust was an open kiss on the jugular.

"I love you" again. There were those filthy words again, words that I needed to have been told months ago, even weeks just as we were returning from Marley. I didn't need them when we were in the middle of a heated sex session in the middle of the woods.

"Stop lying" I bit my lower lip as I felt my walls begin to contract.

We weren't moving at the speed I wanted and that was making me hysterical. I tried to move at my own pace, to move my hips over his pelvis and have the friction that I badly needed to cum, but Eren stopped me. He had a strong grip on my hip and no matter how many inches I moved, he would bring me back to the original position, torturing me with his slow step. His lips moved up to my cheek, giving me a small kiss before moving again and pushing me against him, both of them being chest to chest.

Another kiss, and another, and another. Each one to the rhythm of our tapping.

"I'm not lying" Eren moaned into my ear, reaching for my hair and pulling it back. His mouth now close to mine, a few millimeters closer, reaching out to kiss me.

"SHUT UP! ... please ... shut up" I pulled him away from me, throwing him to the floor, now I was on top of him.

His face twisted as he hit the ground and he closed his eyes due to the pain on his back. My hands were on either side of his head, giving me more room to settle in and examine his face perfectly. A small layer of sweat had formed on his forehead and the root of his scalp, little hickeys he had left behind, which were already fading, and his hair was already completely matted; What was once a bun, now it barely held a few strands, leaving the vast majority of the hair down and spilling over the clothes.

His eyes widened again when I placed my hands on his cheeks. His gaze was the same as always, perhaps he was showing a little sadness, or perhaps fatigue.

Please, just ... don’t

"…okay"

I began to move my hips again in a slow, gentle circular motion, trying to rebuild the mood. We maintained eye contact, neither of us wanted to stop looking at the other, even though our eyes narrowed for the little pleasure. My mouth parted as I started to increase my speed, but still going slowly, without having any hint of speed or exasperation in my movements. It was sensual, tender… desperate. His cock went in and out without difficulty, feeling it on every wall, noticing how it began to twist and get bigger as my walls tightened.

My hands didn't hold me for long, ending up collapsing on his chest. Eren never took his hands off my hips, now they helped me keep up, occasionally massaging the softness of my butt cheeks. I moaned as I felt the tip of his cock reach my deepest spot repeatedly.

One of his hands went straight to the back of my neck and squeezed, drawing me to him and capturing my mouth. His thrusts were increasing in speed and hardness, the rhythm already lost and our kisses sloppies and disheveled.

“Fuck-I’ m…”I spoke between kisses, unable to articulate words between his thrusts and his lips didn’t detach from mine. I wasn't going to last long, I knew it. Eren groaned at hearing my shaky voice and his breathing became faster.

"I know, cum again baby, cum on this cock" our hips moved in unison at a rhythm impossible to explain, if there was a rhythm to begin with. We were going fast, but at the same time slow, we tried to impact our weak spots with each other. We avoided separating, even grew closer, as if we were about to merge. Eren was holding me against his chest as close as possible.

The knot in my stomach, that familiar feeling, accumulated and began to expand in a gigantic way, my eyes narrowed but able to see the height of Eren in his eyes, as well as mine reflected in them. "Please, cum with me"

It was all I needed. My walls contracted and fluids began to flow out of my core, soaking us both and leaving a mess not only on our bodies, but also on our clothes. I moan his name in that moment of ecstasy, wasted, tired and satisfied. Eren, still at his prayer, followed me shortly after, shooting in and his heat filling me completely. His body tensed for a few moments beneath me, his hands circling my back and head as he continued to spread his cum inside me.

I felt him shooting each load, filling me up really well. I kept contracting, still gasping for air and shaking, but neither of us had any intention of separating, much less Eren of coming out. After weeks of languishing a bit of peace, as much as the situation wasn’t the right one, we had both found it. I rested my cheek on his chest, listening to his racing heart and allowing his fingers to wrap around my hair.

We were calm, only our breaths were heard around and our hearts trying to return to their normal rhythm. I relaxed when I felt his hands caress me in the same way that he had caressed me in our previous times, it was that kind of caress that allowed you to stay all the time in the world in the arms of your loved one. They were those caresses that I had longed to receive, the same ones that I was afraid of being used against me and confusing me more than I already was.

Eren gave me a light kiss on the temple, massaging my lower back and still keeping me close to him. I let him cradle me to his chest for a while longer, realizing that the moment we changed, we would be back on our own sides, ready to continue fighting for what we believed was fair.

This time, only this time, I would let myself be carried away, even to the point of being unconscious in his arms and succumbing to a much needed sleep.

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bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher · 4 years

Note

Whump you say? Geralt gets Hanahaki

I’ve been waiting for you, Anon. I’ve been waiting for this prompt specifically and boy when I tell you I might have cried writing it...

2k ish (a little less) words long. Idk why y’all were worried, it’s me. It’s gonna have a happy ending.

tw: Hanahaki, blood mention, illness, angst with a happy ending, whump with a happy ending ---

It had started up just before they parted ways for the winter; Geralt had quietly coughed a handful of rose petals into the corner of his cloak and hidden them from sight as Jaskier gave him their yearly parting embrace. “See you in the spring, Geralt!”

“Hmm.”

You might not ever see me again, actually, the Witcher thought. He tried not to let anything show on his face; not his fear and certainly not his longing, but he ached to tell Jaskier that he loved him and that he’d miss the bard’s presence through the long and dreary cold of the winter months. Geralt also knew that if he told Jaskier the truth about his feelings that he may never set eyes on the bard again anyway, regardless of how the disease currently wracking his body developed over their time apart. He was sure that Vesemir could identify whatever the strange illness was; the old swordmaster might even have a cure ready to go in the old storeroom. If not, they could send for Triss.

“Safe travels.”

“And you as well,” Geralt nodded curtly. He mounted Roach with all his usual grace and ease, biting back another cough and tasting the sickly sweet floral note of rose rising up his throat to coat his tongue again.

---

“Fuck,” Vesemir sighed. “It’s Hanahaki disease, Geralt. It’s not going to be easy to cure now that the pass is full of snow.”

“What’s Hanahaki disease?”

“It’s-” the eldest Wolf Witcher scrubbed his hand over his bearded face and took a moment to compose himself. He’d seen it happen before. He’d seen human bodies buried in the ground with entire root systems crawling from their chest cavities. He’d watched young men and women alike cough entire violet or rose or daisy buds from their mouths while they shivered with fever and seemingly unending pain, but a Witcher? Vesemir hadn’t even thought it was possible for a Witcher to contract such a frivolously deadly illness. “I don’t know exactly how to explain this to you, Geralt.”

“I won’t go screaming into the hills, if that’s what you’re afraid of,” his middle-child joked, “I can’t run very far anymore without a coughing fit.”

“I can’t send for Triss or Yennefer, either. They won’t be able to do anything,” Vesemir spoke calmly and evenly. Geralt, propped against some pillows on adoptive-father-enforced bed rest raised an eyebrow. “It’s a disease that eats at you from the inside out. It latches on to, uhm, romantic feelings and grows with them until it overtakes its host completely. Or until the host, uh… confronts those feelings head on and admits them to the object of their affection.”

“So this is…” Geralt’s eyes were wide and terrified. The eldest Wolf had never seen the stoic boy look quite so scared before, and he’d seen him go through the Trials. “This is going to kill me, is what you’re saying.”

“Who are you in love with, you stubborn oaf!?” Lambert cried, marching into the room from where he’d been lurking in the hall. He startled the other two Wolves and Geralt coughed out another handful of petals. The blood that came with them was surprisingly new.

“What do you mean!?”

“He means,” Vesemir said, as slowly as possible (so that even the great Geralt of Rivia would understand his situation), “That until you tell this person how you feel, the flowers inside you will continue to grow and dig their roots in and, if you never tell them how you feel at all, you will eventually die.”

“Then I guess my fate is sealed,” Geralt smiled sadly, settling himself back against the pillows. “My time as a Witcher is up. Coughing up flowers isn’t the worst way to go, all things considered.”

Lambert growled angrily. “I’m not ready to lose my brother yet, Geralt, so just tell us who you’re pining after and we’ll go fetch her back!”

“No.”

“Why the fuck not?!”

Geralt, growing increasingly more feverish and already exhausted from everything that had happened that afternoon, closed his eyes. “Because he deserves better than me, Lambert. He deserves so much more than I could ever give him and I’m not about to steal him away like a selfish ass and force my feelings onto him for my own sake. I’d rather die.”

“Self-sacrificing bastard,” the youngest of the Wolf Witchers snarled, storming from the room. “Ass! Cock! Fool!”

Vesemir could only nod his agreement and follow silently after.

---

Jaskier read the letter once.

Then he read it again.

After a third time through he was sure that he hadn’t misunderstood the contents.

Dear Jaskier (aka Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove, Prof. of the Seven Liberal Arts at Oxenfurt),

I am Eskel, brother to Geralt of the Wolf Witcher School at Kaer Morhen. I write to you now to ask for your presence at the keep. Geralt has fallen gravely ill and will not likely make it through the season. He does not know that I have written to you, but as his best friend and companion on the Path, I thought it my duty to invite you to see him one last time before he’s gone for good. He’s loathe to admit it, but he misses you and fears for your safety come springtime.

Sincerely,

Eskel of the Wolf School

Somewhere beneath the bright embroidery of his doublet and the hand-woven muslin of his chemise, Jaskier’s flighty, deeply-loving heart shattered into a million pieces.

He grabbed his heaviest woolen cloak from its peg near the door and made for the stables at once.

---

“Geralt!”

The White Wolf opened his eyes a sliver to confirm that he wasn’t hallucinating again; ah yes. What a lovely last dream to have before I die. Standing in the middle of his bedroom at Kaer Morhen, covered with still-melting snow, was Jaskier. The bard’s blue eyes were brimming with tears and his bottom lip was wobbling violently as he gazed upon the Witcher’s withering form.

“Geralt, what’s wrong? Your father and brothers sort of explained it to me but I’m still not sure what’s happening. You’re dying?”

“Don’t worry, bard,” Geralt smiled. A loud, sudden cough wracked his body and he bent over double, spitting a blood-spattered but fully-bloomed rose out into his cupped palm. He laughed joylessly and tossed the bloom onto his bedside table. “I’ll be out of your hair, soon. Won’t this be a last ballad to write, a wolf dying as he’s eaten by flowers?”

“I don-”

“Hush,” Geralt rasped. Jaskier dropped his cloak to the ground uncaringly and rushed to his Witcher’s side. He sat on the edge of the mattress and took Geralt’s closest hand in his, grasping the appendage to his chest and sobbing into the sword-calloused skin like his tears might save his best friend’s life. “Don’t be sad, Jaskier.”

“I am sad, Geralt! I’m absolutely fucking terrified and heartbroken and crushed! Vesemir said you could heal this at any time but you just… you just won’t because you’re stubborn and an idiot and the sweetest goddamn man I’ve ever met in my life! How dare you tell me goodbye when you are perfectly capable of fixing this problem yourself! How could you promise to see me in the spring and then break your word by dying well before the grass turns green again?! You bastard!”

“You won’t miss me after another year passes,” Geralt reassured him, flexing the hand still held tight in Jaskier’s grip. “You won’t even remember me by the time the first daisies spring up.”

“How dare you,” the bard cried again. He pressed a nervous kiss to the tip of the Witcher’s pointer finger before letting go completely and dropping his head into his own hands. “How dare you say those things to me when you know full well that I love you with all my stupid, fragile mortal heart. You asshole.”

“Wh...what?”

“I love you, Geralt!” The Witcher stared up at his friend with nothing but confusion written across his handsome features. Jaskier reached out, wiping a smear of blood away from the corner of Geralt’s mouth as tenderly as any maiden in any of the bard’s favorite romance novels. “I love you and I’ll never forgive you for letting yourself die on me like this.”

Geralt blushed. He stammered. He coughed up two or three more bloody roses and Jaskier tossed them all into the fire with rage blazing in his cornflower irises.

“I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything on this gods-forsaken Continent and now you’re going to take yourself away because you’re, what, scared of something? Is it Yennefer? If she’s refusing to help you then I’ll ride all the way to Vengerberg by daybreak and then I’ll break all her fucking fi-”

“I love you, too.”

“What?” Jaskier asked, stopped mid-rant and mid-thought by the Witcher’s sudden admission. “What did you just say to me, Geralt? If I didn’t misunderstand, you said you loved me too.”

“I did. I do! I have loved you for a rather long time, actually.”

“Well, I’m glad we’ve settled that,” Vesemir said from the doorway. He turned on his heel and disappeared. “See you both for breakfast tomorrow, I’m sure. Well... maybe breakfast is being a bit optimistic. I’ll see you for lunch.”

“What did he mean?” the bard asked. His eyes flitted between the empty doorway and Geralt’s guilty grimace. “What the fuck did Vesemir mean when he said he’d see us at lunch?! You’re still clearly dying and I-”

Geralt felt his fever receding and coughed experimentally. There were only a few brown, half-dried petals that fell from his lips. No blooms. He coughed again and nothing came out of his mouth at all. He grinned and laughed, tugging Jaskier up onto the bed and against his broad chest. “Vesemir was right!”

“What the fuck is going on?!” the bard begged. His hands twisted into the neckline of Geralt’s shirt, holding him still and steady. Blue bore into gold with such heated intensity that the Witcher thought he might pass out regardless of his recently healed disease, “What just happened!?”

“I- I told you I loved you and it cured the Hanahaki!”

“You had fucking Hanahaki and I was the cause of it? Oh Geralt, I’m so sorry! I should have noticed sooner! I should hav- Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

“I didn’t think you loved me back.”

“You didn- Geralt, have you been paying any sort of attention for the past seven or so years? I follow you everywhere, I bandage your wounds, I put food on your plate and a pillow under your head whenever we get the chance. I bathe you and mend your clothes when your fingers are too stiff from practicing your forms to do it yourself… you utter fool. You buffoon. You great, dumb, goofy, idioti-”

He was cut off by Geralt bringing their mouths together with such gentle but insistent pressure that all Jaskier could do was melt against him. His hands unwound from the shirt and stabilized against the Witcher’s pectorals instead. He sighed into Geralt’s mouth, swallowing down the happy sounds his dearest Witcher made in return. When they were finished pouring out their affections they sat, breathless, curled against the pillows of Geralt’s enormous bed.

A large pointer finger slipped beneath Jaskier’s chin and tilted his face up, locking their gazes, “This isn’t how I wanted you to meet my family or see Kaer Morhen for the first time, but I’m glad you came. I know the journey through the snow couldn’t have been easy, even though I’m sure there was some magical assistance.”

“For you, my love, I’d travel the pass barefoot.”

“You’d die of exposure.”

“Not if your life was on the line,” the bard murmured against those flower-chapped lips. “For you, Geralt, I could survive anything. Just as you must swear from this moment on to survive whatever you can to make it back to me.”

“Will you go back to the academy until spring?”

“I’m never leaving your side again, Geralt of Rivia. Come flora or fauna, you’re stuck with me for good.”

“Hmm. Good.”

“Just… Just don’t bring me flowers any time soon.”

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ibijau · 3 years

Text

Futures past pt2 / On AO3

Lan Xichen awakens from a dream that isn't his, and must make a decision

Lan Xichen awoke to a desperate scream stuck in his throat.

He couldn’t breathe.

He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t, he couldn’t, he was going to…

His throat relaxed at last, just enough for him to wail in despair. Heavy tears stained his face and he curled up on his side, still half choking, scratching at his own neck until it bled.

Footsteps came to his door. He heard a voice calling his name, familiar and filled with worry, but he was gasping for air too badly to answer. The only sounds he could make were sobs and weak, pained moans. Getting worried, his uncle entered his bedroom and hurried to his bed.

“Xichen, what’s wrong?” Lan Qiren asked, grabbing his nephew’s hands so he wouldn’t hurt himself anymore, checking his forehead for a fever, his wrist for a pulse.

Lan Xichen’s heart was beating too hard, too fast, nearly making sick, and still he couldn’t quite breathe. He grasped his uncle’s hand, needing the comfort, the closeness. Needing the reminder he wasn’t alone, because…

Because he would be alone, someday. So desperately alone, and it would be his own fault.

The thought, the memory that didn’t quite belong to him, wrenched another sob out of him.

“Is something wrong?” Lan Wangji’s voice asked from further away.

Through the tears, Lan Xichen spotted his younger brother hovering in the doorway, so sleepy he hadn't even grabbed his ribbon, looking quite worried. Out of habit Lan Xichen tried to open his mouth and comfort Lan Wangji, but all that came out was a breathless growl that made the younger boy even more distraught.

It took a long while for Lan Xichen to calm down. Lan Qiren stayed at his side the entire time, having sent Lan Wangji back to bed. Holding Lan Xichen's hands, he hummed a melody, a lullaby of sorts which soothed his nephew, just as it had when Lan Xichen had been a child.

"It was just a nightmare," Lan Xichen said when his voice returned to him. "Apologies for the inconvenience, shufu."

"A rather strong one then," Lan Qiren replied. "If you want to share it, I will listen."

It was tempting. But if Lan Qiren didn't believe him, Lan Xichen would seem mad. And if he did believe him… Lan Xichen shivered at the thought. He couldn't burden others with that, it would be too cruel.

He shook his head.

"It was only a bad dream," Lan Xichen said. "With your permission, I will stay up a little and find ways to occupy myself until I feel like sleeping again."

"I might have medicine to help you fall asleep," Lan Qiren offered.

"No need, I just need a little more time. Please don't let me inconvenience you any longer, shufu."

Lan Qiren looked unconvinced, but did not insist, and soon enough Lan Xichen was left alone again.

The first thing he did was to stand up and go to the window, where he filled his lungs with all the fresh air he could. Nights were cold, each breath made his chest burn a little more, but he didn't stop until the pain was nearly unbearable.

The second thing he did was to light a candle, take some paper and ink, and start writing.

He wrote for most of what remained of the night, lest he should forget some crucial detail about that dream he'd had. Or rather… not a dream, not quite. A memory then.

His memory, and yet not.

The entire life of the man he would become, if nothing was done to set things right.

A man who would be blind to injustice. A man who, while seeking to protect his two dearest friends, would only push them faster to their death. A man broken by the weight of every wrongful choice he had made, after spending nearly half a lifetime trusting the wrong person.

In short, a man Lan Xichen did not want to become.

Exhausted and wrecked by emotions that weren't entirely his own, Lan Xichen had no way of knowing why this knowledge of the future had come to him. He was only certain that this vision, awful as it had been, was no mere fantasy. This had happened, or would happen, unless he took proper measures to prevent it.

Having finished writing it all down, Lan Xichen hid his grim prediction and went back to sleep, falling on his bed like a stone. No more nightmares plagued him that night. A small mercy. He wasn't sure he could have withstood it again.

When morning came, Lan Xichen rose at the habitual hour and tried to get ready for the day. The habitual rhythm of the Cloud Recesses allowed for few exceptions, and he didn't want to call more attention upon himself by asking for favours. But as he was getting dressed, his uncle came into his room, took one look at him, and ordered him to take the day off. Lan Xichen ought to have protested, but this suited him too well.

First, because he was exhausted.

Second, because he needed to come up with a plan. He had half expected that in the sunlight, that vision of his would melt like snow in spring. Instead, it only seemed to have taken a stronger hold upon his mind. This would happen, because it had already happened.

Lan Xichen sat on his bed, his half feverish notes sprawled in front of him, and considered the situation.

There was a war coming, but that was no surprise. Nobody with any understanding of politics could have missed that. If nothing else, Nie Mingjue was craving for a chance to start that war, eager to avenge his father.

Speaking of Nie Mingjue, Lan Xichen would play such a role in his death that it wouldn't be exaggerated to call him a murderer (someone would, the memories told him) though the actual plot was due to Jin Guangshan and some other person Lan Xichen had yet to meet, that Jin Guangyao who he would be so fond of.

His other closest friend in that future he foresaw, and someone whose death he took a more active part in (but only reluctantly, someone would say, only when forced, and ought he not be ashamed that even after everything he still favoured the wrong friend?).

There were other matters of course, his father's death, his brother's decades long infatuation… but Lan Xichen felt that what truly caused the vision to come to him was that matter with the men who would be his sworn brothers.

It was for this that he was blamed and shamed by the one person he'd most overlooked, whose opinion had gone from utterly inconsequential to being of utmost importance.

Nie Huaisang.

Even with the certainty of those future memories, Lan Xichen half wanted to laugh at the idea that Nie Huaisang could ever harm anyone.

It wasn't that Lan Xichen looked down on the younger boy, and more that he didn't pay enough attention to him to feel anything about him. Nie Huaisang was foolish, lazy, and spoiled, three things Nie Mingjue frequently complained about even though he had his share of responsibility in that, being the one who did most of the spoiling. Aside from that… Lan Xichen future memories told him that Nie Huaisang was, or would be, an artist of some skill, and that was the only compliment he would have been able to pay him, for the longest time.

Nie Huaisang would also be a cold, ruthless man ready to risk countless lives for revenge, one who would grow to hate Lan Xichen, one who would let him stand beside a murderer for a decade because he suspected him of being an accomplice. One who would tell him…

Lan Xichen found himself nearly choking again, the memories overwhelming him once more. He had to painfully force each breath in, then out again, until his body remembered how to do it.

Nie Huaisang, if pushed to it, would turn into a terrifying man. But at present, he was still just a foolish and innocent boy, so if Lan Xichen made an effort, surely he had time to make Nie Huaisang see that he could be trusted in a crisis.

Of course the plan was to avoid the crisis in question. Nie Mingjue couldn't be allowed to die, not when he was Lan Xichen's dearest friend, not when his death would have been so cruel and unjust. Lan Xichen, who now knew too much about certain people, felt certain he could change this terrible future he had foreseen. Still, just in case, it wouldn't hurt to get Nie Huaisang on his side.

It wouldn't be fun, but it might turn out useful someday.

The first thing Lan Xichen did, once he had decided on a course of action, was to head for Lan Qiren's office and ask his uncle whether it might not be prudent to have copies of the books in their library, at the very least those most unique or precious. That library would burn someday, and it was something his future self would always regret, even if this at least really hadn’t been his fault.

Lan Qiren blinked at him like a startled owl. Lan Xichen almost laughed, and then nearly cried, hit by the sudden realisation that his uncle was roughly the same age he would be when the truth about Nie Mingjue’s death would be revealed, if not a little younger. He tried to hide it with that beard of his, and the difference in generation had made it less obvious to his nephews, but Lan Qiren wasn’t old at all. He must have been so young when he started caring for his nephews.

“Why would we need copies?” Lan Qiren asked. “The chances of two books being needed at the same time are low, and patience is a good quality to practice."

Lan Xichen bit his lip, trying to find an explanation that wouldn't bring forth too many questions. Before he could, his uncle spoke again.

"That dream last night wasn't just a normal nightmare," Lan Qiren guessed. "Your spiritual energy wasn't circulating right, I thought it might have been a qi deviation, but… did you see something instead?"

"Something terrible is coming," Lan Xichen confirmed. After a brief hesitation, he added: "The Wens are looking to start a war. They will start it, given half a chance. We have two years, more or less."

Lan Qiren looked shaken by the news, but not particularly surprised as such.

"They will attack us? Here?"

Lan Xichen nodded. "The library will burn, and other parts of the Cloud Recesses as well."

Habitations, a few classrooms, part of the training grounds… but the true loss was really the library, the heart of their sect, the source of so much knowledge.

Lan Qiren was silent for a while, weighing their options.

"If we take direct action to make duplicates, it will call attention to us, and draw the Wen's suspicions. I will start making copies of precious texts myself, along with others I can trust. For less sensitive documents, I will assign their copies to disciples in need of punishment. It will be educational for them, useful for us."

"I'll help as well," Lan Xichen offered.

"I expected you would volunteer,” his uncle said with a thin smile. “Was there anything else to that vision you had?"

Lan Xichen hesitated.

He thought of that boy he had yet to meet, Wei Wuxian, who would raise the dead and use them as deadly weapons, sowing death and destruction around him, all because he'd sacrificed everything for his beloved shidi.

He thought of Lan Wangji with his back shredded by the discipline whips, weakened to the point he nearly died, yet unrepentant.

He thought of the Lotus Piers slaughtered, of Nie Mingjue dead, of his own guilt driving him to withdraw from the world.

He thought of Nie Huaisang, going from overlooked little idiot to becoming the most dangerous man in the cultivation world.

"No, uncle," Lan Xichen said. "There was nothing more."

At least, nothing that he should burden his uncle with, when he already dealt with so much.

Let Lan Qiren save the library, and Lan Xichen would find a way to solve the rest.

In spite of preparations for the upcoming new batch of guest disciples, Lan Xichen found time to start copying some treaties. It was not easy work when no mistake could be tolerated, but that difficulty was actually welcome. It helped him be more tired, and being truly exhausted was the only way he could fall asleep since that vision of the future.

Contrary to his expectations, the vision hadn't faded with time as a true dream would have. Instead it melted into his own memories, manifesting as a particularly vivid series of déjà-vu. Much like true memories, Lan Xichen found he couldn't actually remember every single detail of every moment. Unless he had been paying attention when those future memories formed, then he remembered as little as he might recall what he'd had for breakfast on a specific day five months earlier.

So when the Nie juniors arrived, a few days earlier than expected, Lan Xichen wasn't surprised. His other self had been annoyed by this interruption to everyone's schedule, but now Lan Xichen was just curious to meet Nie Huaisang again, knowing what he was capable of. When Lan Qiren asked him to come greet those Nie disciples, Lan Xichen agreed very quickly.

Because of the long climb up the mountain, because his cultivation was so poor and his general capacity so low, Nie Huaisang was breathless and sweaty when he arrived at the gate of the Cloud Recesses. Combined with his short height and his frail stature, it made for a sharp contrast with the disciples accompanying him. Lan Xichen just couldn’t imagine anyone less scary than this boy who chatted rather too easily with Lan Qiren, disregarding the difference in age and capacity between them. Nie Huaisang really had little to show for himself. He wasn’t even particularly good-looking presently, though he would become surprisingly handsome in due time.

Nie Huaisang would become many things, over the years.

As Lan Qiren guided the Nie disciples toward the house that would be theirs for the duration of their stay in the Cloud Recesses, Lan Xichen watched Nie Huaisang attentively, trying to catch some sign of the sharp and cruel man he was destined to become someday. But there was just nothing, no hint of coldness, no particular cunning.

Nothing at all until…

“I’d love a tour of the Cloud Recesses!” Nie Huaisang excitedly asked, looking directly at Lan Xichen. “Lan gongzi, would you please give me a tour? I’m sure there’s no one who could do it better than you.”

Lan Xichen shivered. He didn’t think this had happened in the future he remembered… or could it be that his future self hadn’t committed such a thing to memory? He would have had no reason to, never guessing how important his interactions with Nie Huaisang would turn out to be. Quite possibly, he had just refused that request, busy with other things.

Lan Xichen tried to refuse, in fact, but Nie Huaisang was insistent enough that to deny him any further would have made him a bad host. Worse, it might have attracted questions from his uncle, who might have suspected that Lan Xichen hadn’t told him everything he’d seen in his nightmare. Besides, Lan Xichen had already determined he would make efforts to earn Nie Huaisang’s trust so the future wouldn’t repeat itself, so why not start immediately?

When the time came for it, the tour went rather better than Lan Xichen might have expected. Nie Huaisang was surprisingly attentive to what was explained to him about the Cloud Recesses, which went against what previous encounters and those future memories had established. But no, that was unfair, Lan Xichen realised. Nie Huaisang, right from the start, had always been quite curious about those very few things that interested him.

It was just surprising that the Cloud Recesses would fall in that category.

By the time Nie Huaisang asked about things to do for fun, Lan Xichen had relaxed a little, and even boldly suggested that the younger boy might be interested in trying new things, even musical cultivation if he wished. He felt quite confident that whatever had happened in that other future, he could easily avoid it. All he had to do was keep Nie Mingjue safe, keep Nie Huaisang happy, and everything would be…

“I do like music a lot,” Nie Huaisang said pensively. “My father used to say I have a good ear for it. Not like da-ge. He wouldn’t know one melody from another even if his life depended on it!”

Lan Xichen froze.

He could just see Nie Mingjue, in prey to a killing rage that only stopped with his own death. Nie Mingjue’s body, headless, desecrated, cut to pieces and held together only through sheer rage and red thread that his little brother had sewn into his flesh. And that melody, that twisted mockery of a Lan healing song…

Lan Xichen shivered at the moment, suddenly nearly as breathless as he had been when waking up from that nightmare.

But he had been well trained, and when he noticed Nie Huaisang’s worry, Lan Xichen pulled himself back together, forcing himself to smile and chat amicably in spite of the specter of a pain he refused to ever feel again.

This time, he would make sure no one he loved died because of his mistakes.

#xisang #lan xichen #nie huaisang #lan qiren #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #jau writes #double time travel #lxc is having a very unpleasant time for a change

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