#men: look at this stupid creature wanting to be cherished! ha!

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Of Monsters and Men

Chapter 11- At Last

Summary: Finally reunited with Geralt, the two of you attempt to avoid Nilfgaard and find a tavern for the evening, although it appears destiny has other plans.

Warning: angst, fluff

 Masterlist

-last and final chapter my Witcher friends, that is until next season, and yes I will be continuing reader and Geralt’s story. There’ll be more monster slaying and adventures to come!

Within minutes after reuniting with your silver haired lover, did the two of you immediately find a spot elsewhere from the main trail for well...you know. A place hidden away from any unwanted prying eyes so that you both could show one another just how much you've desperately missed each other, in more ways then one. You couldn't remember the last time you'd felt so euphoric, perhaps that's just what making sweet love to your Witcher does to you. Even when he's pounding you against a tree while whispering the most dirtiest of sweet nothings into your ear.

You hadn't touched him like this in weeks, nor seen him for that matter, but he felt wonderful and seemed to be enjoying his time with you just the same. Though all too soon would your bodies have to part from one another's close embrace. All to your utter disappointment did the two of you end your hasty love making session, seeing as the land is closely crawling with Nilfgaard soldiers and who knows what else.

You got what you could get, and anyways, that won't be the first nor last time you two fuck in the woods.

The grass feels soft against your clothed bottom as you lace up your boot, your gaze set to the individual across from you as your eyes unbashfuly admire Geralt while he lays in the grass shirtless. His beautiful golden irises staring up into the tree tops as the wind sways the leaves every which way.

You pull at the leather strings, tying a confident knot with skilled hands while a small breeze blows your hair back, you're admittedly feeling quite delightful if you're being honest. Though when your crimson eyes glance up at the snowy haired man again, he's turned his head to you.

Your eyes meet at once, sending a blissful smirk upon your lips, "Anyone ever tell you it's rude to stare?" You teased, narrowing your eyes in a playful manner.

Geralt's lips curl into a half smile as he lets out a small hum in reply. Setting your arms upon your propped up knees, you freely show him an eye roll. Earning a proper chuckle from the man, "Y/N I was simply cherishing your stunning appearance."

Shaking your head you smile, "Yes, of course you were. And I am simply looking at a shirtless man with the most utter respect and clean of thoughts in my mind." You casually shrug, "Nothing else going on in here, I promise."

Geralt raises a greyish brow, moving to prop himself up upon his elbow, "That sounds honest." He hums, "But you are no virtuous maiden my love, and by that telling look on your face only moments ago. I can only imagine what things you may have been thinking of then."

You let out a snort before deciding to crawl over to him, where he lets you push him back into the grass, "Indeed I am not." You whisper close, leaning on an elbow as your other hand caresses his cheek, "But I am undoubtedly in love with a Witcher of all creatures to walk this earth, so if we're using our heads, what does that truly say of me then?"

His golden eyes keep to yours as he brings a hand to rest over your arm, "I would say it means perhaps I am a fool to fall for one of my enemies' creations, my dear Y/N..." He pauses for a moment, taking this brief second to focus on you and only you as he holds you with the most care, "you are most cunning and beautiful."

Leaning into his small touch you grin blissfully, a feeling of ease and calmness setting over you as Geralt studies your face, "You are no fool my White Wolf. That I am sure of without a doubt in my mind, I can't seem to be able to even jest about it." You chuckle, "Though you tempt me at times." The smile that he gives you is the most precious thing your eyes could ever be blessed with, its warm and genuine, filled with the deepest and most purest of love for you. His lady of night, the one monster he could never slay, nor would he ever dare.

Though your heart fills with joy for him, a sudden sadness seeps into your soul, obstructing your happiness. Your eyes fall downcast as you move to lay yourself next to Geralt in the grass, he follows you closely, a frown displaying itself upon his handsome features at your sudden spurt of melancholy.

"What troubles you Y/N?" Wonders Geralt, shifting his body so that he can rest an arm over your chest, pulling you in close as he studies your face.

Resting a hand on Geralt's muscular arm, you frown once again, "I was brief about my short time in Aretuza and the Elven keep, I know I told you about all those bastard soldiers I killed and when I helped the mages the best I could.....it's just. I haven't told you everything." Your voice feels so small in the large forest, now since you think about it. You haven't had the time to completely process what happened at Sodden's Hill, with all those soldiers, the other mages, and especially Yennefer.

So much death.

His brow furrows in thought, unsure of what you're going to reveal next, all he knows is that he doesn't plan on letting you go for awhile longer. Your Witcher hums in reply, giving you a moment to find your words. Taking a deep heavy sigh you turn your head to look out at the clouds. "We tried to protect the North from Nilfgaard, those fuckers had their own spout of powerful mages to test against our own. For the whole day we all fought together...every man, woman, child, and mage. Fucking farmers and tired refugees, they weren't warriors, Geralt. None of them were."

You take another shaky breath as Geralt presses his head against your cheek, "I did what I could to save them. But I'm just one person, I couldn't save them all....though I must admit, those people fought braver then most royal soldiers I've ever seen. They have good heart in them....well, I guess did. Not many survivors I think, just the ones who had enough sense to get the fuck out of there.....and of course myself, Tissaia, Triss, and Yenn..." A small lump forms in your throat as you remember what happened, causing you to choke on your own words for a moment.

You bite your lip hard, your hand squeezing tightly onto Geralt's muscular forearm as you collect yourself enough to speak, though your voice is raspy and broken, "Yennefer, right. She fought valiantly like a true warrior, she was like a phoenix, like a raging mighty dragon of power and flame...Geralt you should have seen her." A tear falls down the side of your face as you smile into the cloud covered sun, your voice above a whisper, "I'd never seen anything like it....it was.....beautiful."

A light kiss is placed gently over your tear streak while his hand moves to find yours, "What I would have given to see you slay those dogs alongside Yennefer, Y/N. I'm sure she is proud to call you a friend."

"She's dead." Those two words leave your lips so quietly that Geralt almost doesn't catch them, but he does.

The heavy weight of this news takes him off guard, he did not expect you to just lay such tragic tidings over him like that, he may have been greatly annoyed by Yennefer but he did see that stubborn mage as a friend. Though his heart hurts for how broken and defeated you feel from the terrors you'd underwent only yesterday, the great loss you've experienced, all of your traumas crashing down atop your soul in this moment. He wants to comfort you the best he can.

He listens to the steady beating of your heart, understanding how sad yet angry you're feeling, "I'm sorry Y/N. Truly I am."

A tired smile forms at the corners of your lips as you turn teary eyes over to your Witcher, your faces mere inches from one another, "She was my first real friend you know, and I think I was hers. I'm grateful to have spent the last of her hours on this earth by her side then.....glad she wasn't alone. I just wish..." Swallowing the lump in your throat, you focus on Geralt's shimmering irises once again, "I just wish the world wouldn't take everyone I give a shit about, so don't plan on doing anything stupid, okay? I can't lose anyone else or so help me god or whoever is listening out there, I will slaughter the bastards who dare take you away from me."

"I do not doubt it my love, and don't worry Y/N. I don't plan on leaving you anytime soon." He speaks honestly before pressing a soft kiss against your lips, "You have my word."

——

Geralt holds tightly to Roach's leather reigns as he keeps a firm hand over your lower abdomen, a small content smile gracing over your features while you sit comfortably in front of him on the large mare. Just as you always have.

Your hands rest over his as you keep a steady lookout over the trail ahead, silently overjoyed to be leaning against Geralt and all of his godly body holding you up. A blissfully drunken grin keeps to your face while your mind tumbles and reels with everything that he's just confided about from the last four weeks, like what you'd done earlier after a fine quick session of love making.

Apparently he's been busy.

Though for the second time today, another troubling thought randomly pops into your mind as things tend to do, and now you feel this time is as good as ever to actually address it. Squeezing his arm a bit you let out a half amused huff, showing that you're about to speak your mind on something idiotic Geralt has done, and he knows it.

Your Witcher figured you'd eventually spill your two cents, as you always seem to do.

"So." You begin, slow and filled with something Geralt's not quite sure of, he mentally cringes as you squeeze his arm again, "you just told him to fuck off and that you'd prefer to never see him ever again? Just like that? To our bard. Jaskier."

Geralt pauses for a moment as you wait for an answer, "Yes." Is all he whispers, low and filled with regret. He told you all about Jaskier and himself hours ago, hoping you wouldn't bring it back up, but of course you would. He's never that lucky, there's nothing you don't ever catch.

You raise a brow and shrug, "Can't say I blame you. That idiot has gotten our asses in a lot of shit over the years." He lets out a breath, glad you're not fuming at his heated rash actions on the mountainside after you dramatically parted ways. Suddenly you grip his arm tight, enough to actually feel uncomfortable, he sucks in a breath as you squeeze, "Although, I don't believe Jaskier completely deserved that." You seethe through clenched teeth before letting go of your iron grip. So you are angry after all, thinks Geralt, funny way of showing it.

"I know....I was just....I'm sorry Y/N." He replies, his voice much softer then he'd intended.

Your face falls as you feel the hurt in his words for what he's done, "I know Geralt." You sigh, "Enough with the sorry's and regrets okay....what's done is done and there's nothing we can do about it now. And anyways, as I like to say "we'll cross that bridge when we get there" so don't feel shitty about it now." He gives you a hidden smile as you chuckle to yourself, "You can feel shitty about it later."

Geralt lets out an amused snort, "Always one for wise words Y/N. What would I do without your kind intellect?"

"Dunno." You casually shrug, "Be a far less intriguing creature I suppose."

He tenderly kisses the top of your head, "I'd be a fool to argue against that logic."

"You're still a fool either way." You jest, cackling at your friendly jab at him, earning a gentle squeeze on your hip that sends butterflies into your stomach.

Gods the things he does to you.

For a couple more hours would you both ride Roach down the trail, past countless trees and a few streams until the sun would begin her descent over the land. Through this time you've been admittedly back to your old habits of amusing your Witcher to pass the time, mixed with seeing how long it would take to annoy him before he threatened to kick you off the mare.

It had been quite the eventful stretch of time before you caught the nasty pheromones of war seeping throughout the forest from some place close by, but not seen by your skilled eyes just yet. You held your tongue, not wanting to worry Geralt over something as insignificant as rotting corpses in the woods. But as Roach gets closer and closer, you begin to feel more strange, your scarlet irises suddenly catch a ripped tent behind a few trees.

Nilfgaard. Smell of death, more destroyed tents. Those bastards did this.

Your nose crinkles in disgust, the scent of freshly decaying corpses overloading your senses just about making your eyes water, you can't smell anything else but the stench of death.

"What I would give to be in a flower meadow right now." You seethe, blinking away the reactive tears in your eyes, Geralt looks down to you, unsure of what you mean considering his sense of smell is not nearly as prominent as yours. "I think Nilfgaard found a camp just over there, gods it reaks."

His grey brows furrow in thought, though he's left his words in the back of his throat as Roach walks closer to the carnage. Suddenly the three of you are face to face with an older man and his horse cart as he desperately and stupidly does his best to move the dead in piles for whatever it is that he's intended for them.

What a strange man.

Geralt shifts from behind you, tilting his head at the bearded man, "Ill winds follow grave robbers." States your Witcher as he hugs you closer protectively, or perhaps to keep you from doing anything destructive. The greyed man looks to the two of you, quietly acknowledging your existence before turning around to continue his doings.

"If I was a grave robber, I'd be taking their belongings, Butcher." He adds gruffly, squatting down to examine another slain body, "So best keep your beast with you." He adds, side eyeing you cautiously as he goes to move another of the deceased. Well, he knows Geralt's a Witcher and that you're not human. Maybe he's not that idiotic?

Geralt smirks, "If I was to let her satiate her appetite, you'd be amongst the corpses." The man falls silent, looking wearily between the two of you as your scarlet eyes trail over the nervous man.

He lets out a sigh, finally breaking under both your hard gazes, "I was goin' home to my family when I came upon these poor souls." He points towards the rotting bodies, "Cintran refugees. Dead at least a week. Now they're a feast for the crows."

"They're not for crows." You implore, shifting your ruby irises across the shadowy wood line while you listen to the buzzing of feasting flies. You had previously forgotten about what else may lurk in the shadows ready to feed, until now.

"Wolves?" He wonders.

"No."

Shaking his head, he ignores your odd wary vigilance, turning to glance at the two of you, "With more hands I could move quicker."

Yeah, fuck that.

"The only thing you should do quickly is flee." Warns Geralt, alert to the same understanding of what creatures may be hiding close by. The strange man grunts as he drags a body over the leaves, ignorantly discounting both your warnings.

With a click of his tongue, Geralt pulls at the mares reigns, "Come on, Roach, back to Kaer Morhen." You shake your head at the man as Roach begins to take a couple steps forward.

"Don't leave!" Pleads the bearded man, while dragging another, "Look at these people. Innocent people, killed for what?" He exclaims, sucking in labored breaths as he stands to look out over the mass of dead refugees, "So Nilfgaard can have more land? We owe it to 'em to do better."

"I'm not better." Mutters Geralt as he directs Roach away.

Always so dramatic huh.

You don't make it even three feet before your sensitive ears prick at the sound of crawling under the dirt. You know exactly what's now hunting the man, without a second thought do you break from Geralt's muscular arms to jump off of Roach.

Your feet move inhumanly fast as you race for the panicked man who's now scrambling away on the forest floor as two hungry ghouls claw for a taste. Realizing all too late that your silver dagger is lost to the ages you quickly adapt to instead aim for electrocuting the ugly fuckers.

Your palms spread wide as white hot lightening crackles and sparks in the misty night air, piercing the grotesque bodies of the living undead.

They screech in pain, giving Geralt just enough time to cut them down before they're able to recover, the man stops whimpering in fear as he turns his head up to you and Geralt. Who's now crouched a couple feet from the wide eyed man while he cleans off his sword, his eyes now two pools of glistening obsidian.

Sparks crackle in your palms as you huff in annoyance, "Go home." Your voice strong and steady.

The man snaps his attention over to you, "I can help." He insists urgently, causing you to roll your crimson eyes.

"One bite will kill you." Implores Geralt sternly.

The man turns to him, "Or you two." Then back to you again, his eyes fretful as you notice how he's just about shaking. He's terrified.

You let out a frustrated sigh, "I'm immune." You conclude gruffly, pointing to both himself and Geralt, "But not you two, so if you want to see your wife again...go home." The man stays still, breathing heavily as he sits on the soft ground, his mind swirling.

Geralt slowly stands, glaring at the man, "Go...home!" He snaps in that gravely voice of his, the petrified man stares at him before looking to your equally as stoic face. The blood red glow of your irises and the low crackling of lighting in your palm shifting his mind to a new understanding of his current situation.

He lets out a shaky breath, "All right..." Huffs the bearded man before scrambling to his feet, his boots carrying him over to his cart as he throws something into the back.

You ignore him and watch as Geralt walks slowly forward, his black eyes cautiously surveying over the land as you take a step, "Let me be the first to say, but I don't happen to feel very fond of what else follows." You whisper softly, your voice laced with concern as you sniff the foggy damp air, smelling nothing but decaying flesh as it wafts into your nostrils.

Geralt holds his weapon tightly, opening his mouth to answer, but before he's able to say anything a piercing screech breaks out from the woods. His sword flashes in the moonlight as he cuts down another hungry ghoul. Without warning another one breaks out of the earth to his right, dead in a flash as he slashes it across the throat.

The dirt bulges upward as another crawls from underneath the ground, heading directly for Geralt, the beast doesn't stand a chance as your Witcher stabs the soil directly in front of him. Killing the damn ghoul in an instant. Suddenly a black screaming flash races past you and tackles him to the ground.

"Oh fuck!" Unknowingly leaves you lips as you race to his aid, five of them have him pinned to the ground already as you pull his silver sword from the earth that he had left behind in the scuffle. These starving bastards don't see you coming as you begin slashing and hacking violently away at the ghouls. Trying your damn best to get them off of Geralt, they scream in agony as you end their half-lives.

More race out from the shadows to surround the two of you, Geralt pushes and punches more off of him as you slice through their grotesque inhuman bodies. So caught up in your own world that you don't have time to make sure if Geralt is all right when another one jumps for your arm, only to be greeted with a hard cut to its sunken in stomach.

Your chest rises and falls with heavy breaths as you turn your head left and right, readying for anything else. When nothing appears to move you lower his sword to your side, turning around to give Geralt a smirk and no less a cocky comment.

Your face instantly falls when he whispers a harsh "fuck" while he leans down to look at something on his left thigh. He shakes his snowy mane, standing to his full height as he takes a limped step towards you. His obsidian eyes finally finding yours as he takes another troubled step forward, he looks like a mess.

Your eyes glance down at the bite mark revealing itself from an opened spot in his dark pants, you suck in a sharp breath, your face dead serious as you watch him with wide glossy eyes. His face looks rough and sweaty as he limps closer, suddenly falling to his knees as he stares at you, almost pleadingly, his dark eyes full of pain.

"Geralt?" You whisper, your nerves standing on end at the sight of him, no way he's just been bitten, it can't be.

Your lip quivers as you drop the forgotten sword upon the earth, taking hasty steps as he looks tiredly into your frightened face. You quickly kneel down to meet his eye level as he lets out a shaky breath, your hands gently touch his dirt smudged face as he wills his hands to grasp your arms.

His grip is unnaturally weak as you look deeply into his eyes, your voice shaky, "You're fine. You're fine, it's just a small wound nothing worth worrying over....it's just..it's nothing...you're fi...." His head falls downward in your palms as his hands slip from their place on your arms, "No, no, no, no....Geralt, love look at me! Look at me!" He answers back with a low groan, you swallow the building lump in your throat as he struggles to lift his tired gaze to yours.

The weakest of smiles displays over his handsome features as he lets out a tired sigh, "You're beautiful....you know that?" His voice is soft and broken as you hold up his face, biting your lip to keep from crying. He smiles sluggishly, "Thank you for loving me...I....Y/N...I...love y..."

Suddenly his eyes shut as he goes limp against you, you catch him and quickly move to gently position his body so that his head can rest in your lap, "Geralt no!" You exclaim desperately through tears that are starting to blur your vision, "Wake up! Wake the fuck up you dick...you can't leave me here!" You shake his shoulder but to no avail, "Fuck! No, no, no....I just got you back." Tears race down your cheeks as a sob racks through your entire body, you suck in a breath, trying to contain your pain.

This isn't fucking fair!

The old man hustles to your side, now made aware of the dire circumstances, "Ohhh, dear...Uh....we can take him to my house, if you will.....Just, keep him awake." Proposes the man, you hold Geralt closer, your wet cheeks glistening in the moonlight as your crimson eyes glow blood red.

"If you help me save him I won't end your pathetic life because of your stupidity!" You snap, making him flinch backwards as you glare at him, a low growl emitting from deep within your throat. If Geralt dies you might tear this man to shreds.

He quickly regains his bearings, now understanding that his life is at stake if Geralt dies under his care. The man walks around you, reaching down to pull Geralt from out of your lap. Once you're free he looks to you, "Miss he's quite heavy, this one. Could you lift his legs and help me carry him to...."

He's left with nothing but a genuinely bewildered look as you pick your sleeping Witcher up, holding him in both your arms while ignoring the mans shocked expression as you walk over to the large wooden cart. Setting Geralt in the back on a couple soft bags of goods.

Jumping in next to him, you kneel down by his side while the man quickly ties Roach to the back. It's going to be a long night. Until dawn broke out over the horizon, the great sun coating the land in daylight would you lay by his side as he slept through the multitude of hours.

Finally coming to in the late morning, looking more pale then usual and clearly disoriented, his golden irises trying so hard to focus on your blurry face. The man, who revealed himself to be Yurga, kept his horses at a fast trot while you continued to hold tightly onto your Witcher's arm, squeezing it every time he would begin to close his eyes. Just keep him awake.

"I don't know about you." Starts Yurga, "But I'm not liking the sound of those explosions in the distance....bloody Nilfgaard better keep themselves far away from here. We don't need trouble like that round these parts. Not after everything they've done."

Geralt stirs underneath your touch, snapping your attention back down to him, you watch as his eyelids open and close, his golden irises looking rather lost and hazy. He's so pale, too pale.

"Easy does it Butcher." Affirms Yurga as he turns his head to the side, "You got bit, best keep your sights trained on the pretty lady in front of you."

Geralt's brows furrow as he turns his own head to the side at the sound of the mans voice, confusion clear on his face since the poison from the ghouls has begun to mess with his mind. Seated closely on his right, his muscular arm on your left and his broad body on your right, his face is much more faded in color now. Too pale and sickly looking for your liking.

Reaching an arm out, you gently touch his face, turning his head back to you, "Geralt, keep those fine golden eyes on me, you gotta focus love....you're becoming delirious, but you're not dead. Just stay awake Geralt I'll be right here." He blinks hard, his face appearing dazed as he listens, suddenly trying to sit himself up.

You quickly react, leaning over him to grasp both his arms, stopping him from moving anymore, "Be still Geralt. You'll only make things worse if you try and move, your bite is spreading slowly but moving will only bring you more pain." His face grimaces in discomfort, you release your grip, sitting normally once again.

Oh Geralt, be strong for me.

Your face a mask of deep worry at his reaction, he may be a Witcher, but if his wounds are not treated properly he will die. Leaving you completely and utterly alone in this world whether you're ready for it or not. You rest a hand over his chest, listening to the slow thud of his heartbeat, he stares up at the sky, his gaze lost in the clouds.

You can tell he's probably watching some hallucination playing out before him, his gaze seems so far away while you sit here on this stupid hay covered cart pulled by the slowest two horses you've ever seen. He stirs again, his pale face trying to find yours as he focuses in on your worried appearance.

You can tell he's back, especially when his left arm quickly takes yours that was previously resting over his chest. He squeezes your hand, "My bag. Y/N I need my bag." His voice his gravelly and urgent, you quickly turn to look around, the pull of the cart jostling you while your eyes hunt for the bag.

"Yurga stop the fucking horses for a moment!" You yell, letting go of Geralt's hand as you grab the leather bag. Yurga directs his horses to stop, turning abruptly around to see what's the matter.

"The bottle....Y/N.....you know which one." Rasps Geralt as your eyes quickly find the small glass bottle containing some dark liquid, a type of healing potion for sure.

Handing the potion to your Witcher he hastily takes it, ripping off the cork with his teeth before making a face and chugging most of it. He groans, pouring the rest over his infected wound, more groans of pain sounding as you listen to the sizzle of flesh take to the healing mixture.

Gently patting his arm you hand him a small smile of reassurance, "You definitely need a healer, I'm afraid not even my blood can heal these wounds. Those fucking ghouls." You growl as Yurga urges his horses to begin trotting down the trail again.

His body rests against the piles of clothes and hay while his hand reaches out for yours, "I need to go to the Blue Mountains....Y/N...tell him I need to...." Mutters Geralt with tired eyes.

You squeeze his hand, "What? No, we don't have....you don't have enough time, Geralt you'll die."

"He'll heal me....I just need to go...."

"No!" You cry, there is absolutely no way you'd both make it to the Blue Mountains before his heart stops beating, "Stay awake you fucker, we'll heal you soon enough, just stay awake....we're almost to Yurga's farm. You'll get proper treatment there....just stay awake."

Until the sun would set and the darkness of night crept over the land would you constantly play as an ever continuous jostling annoyance to Geralt, doing all that you must to keep him awake and alive. Soon enough would Yurga have to stop and let his old horses rest for awhile. In the meantime, you'd help Geralt to lean against a tree as you went off in search of healing plants that could help to temporarily stop the spread.

With not much to give from your herb hunting, you walked forth from out of the bushes and into the grassy tree covered opening where you're greeted with the sight of a dark-red haired mage tending to your Witcher's infected bite wound. You immediately freeze, though she's too focused to even realize that you're watching her work. For a couple minutes would you observe her talents before blinking once and suddenly she's gone. Just like that, gone.

Well that was fucking bizarre.

Suddenly Geralt bolts upright, your brows furrow as he looks all around him, his wide eyes shifting right and left until they finally find your familiar form walking closer. He lets out an audible sigh of relief, before his grey brows furrow once again in thought.

"Where'd she go? The woman?" He wonders, confusion clear on his face as he watches you crouch down to meet his eye level.

You raise a brow, "Can't say I'd know, but I wish I'd have time to thank her for doing whatever magical mage shit she did to your infected bite mark." You reply with a chuckle, "Now you've gotten yourself a new scar added to the collection. Though still a very handsome work of art in my humble opinion."

His face softens at your relaxed tone, suddenly realizing that there's no need to worry anymore, "Thank you Y/N."

You laugh, "What for? I didn't do that much, I didn't even know how to properly heal you. And I definitely wasn't planning on turning you into a vampire just to have you around longer."

A small smile tugs at the corners of his lips as you study his face, "For keeping me awake this long, no matter how much I wanted to shove you off the wagon."

"I knew you wanted to do it, I could see it in your face. That is, when you weren't staring off into nothing like a lost boy who had too many special herbs." You jest, earning a pleasing chuckle from your sweaty Witcher. You smile, "Now. Come on my love, let's go." You reach a hand out for him to take, without a second thought he accepts, letting you pull him to his feet.

He shakes his head, steadying himself as he holds your arms, "Geralt you're acting like you've just downed half a dozen mugs of ale, lets rest on the cart yeah? Yurga will take us to his farm where we can get some proper food and drink, and if we're lucky....you some new pants."

His smile is soft as he looks down at you, Geralt touches your chin affectionately, "That sounds rather lovely."

Before he can do anything else you grasp the hand that's touching your chin, "I know exactly where your mind is going next and all I have to say is you're getting a bit more cleaned up before those pretty lips of yours are allowed to kiss me." He closes his eyes, resting his head against yours as he releases his hand from your chin. Now pulling you closer with his large strong hands.

"I could have died." He mutters, his gravely voice laced with a friendly playfulness.

"But you didn't."

"I could have."

"I know." You finally sigh, "You're still sweaty and smell like a dog who rolled in cow shit."

He lightly chuckles, "That's rude." Before pressing a feather light kiss onto your forehead where he then pulls away after a moment, "Guess we should help the old man pack the rest of his bags away."

Gripping his torso tighter you lean in close, "I'm enjoying myself too much." You admit, "Even though you smell rather atrocious at the moment."

"Oh please Y/N." Muses Geralt, his face inches from yours, "You still called be pretty when I was covered head to toe in Selkiemore guts, if I do recall."

"Did I? Must have slipped." You mutter lowly, brushing your lips past his.

"Y/N." Warns Geralt, his hot breath fanning over your smirking face as your ruby irises flicker from his plush lips to his golden eyes.

"On second thought. Perhaps you do look rather lovely at the moment, I think I'll just have to..." He's left guessing what you would have said next as your lips press firmly against his, both your arms pulling one another even closer now. Despite all he's just endured, Geralt tastes quite nice, his muscular body feeling even better holding you so close.

His lips move with yours in some pleasurable heated dance, soon enough does his calloused hands reach up to place themselves on either side of your face, you smile into the kiss at his urgency to hold you close. A couple more lingering blissful moments are shared flush against one another before your Witcher inevitably pulls away, first pressing a kiss to your cheek, then your lips once again before finally pulling away to look into your glistening eyes.

His hands still gently holding your cheeks, while your own ones grip around his forearms, "I hope there's more of that for when we find a tavern later." You muse, biting your lip as Geralt's eyes stare deeply into yours.

"Y/N. I'll let you take me any way you want." Mutters Geralt in that low and gravelly voice of his, "Just me and you."

"I think I'd like that very much." His lips find yours once again as your fingers trail down his back, wishing so hard that you were both laying on a soft warm bed in some hidden tavern in the mountains.

While you're both unbashfully exploring each others bodies like it was the first time, a sudden cough is heard from behind you causing the two of you to abruptly pull apart and look in that direction, "Uh...don't mean to intrude, but uh.....could we get moving if ya both don't mind?" Asks Yurga politely, trying not to find either of your amused gazes as he looks at a stick on the ground.

Right, you'd probably want to get out of the woods first.

The merchant Yurga had been true to his word, he had finally at long last made it to his home placed in a great clearing within the woods. A comfortable farmhouse on an open spot of land away from the fighting and battles nearby. His cart came to an abrupt halt as his wife quickly opened up the door and raced out to meet him, excitement flowing through her veins as a huge smile graced her face.

"We're all okay. The war is close, but we're okay. I need to tell you something." Exclaims Yurga's blonde curly haired wife.

"Me too." Affirms the older man with a slight thrill lacing his words.

His wife smiles, "I met a girl. An orphan, I found her in the woods nearby." Geralt halts all movement at the startling words, you doing the same as both of your furrowed gazes find one another.

No way this is who you think she's actually talking about. Hundreds of girls have been orphaned by the war.

"I met a Witcher." Speaks Yurga with a nod, "And a dhampir, if you'll believe it." Without warning Geralt jumps down from the cart and begins walking towards the woods much to your confusion, "They saved my life. Now fetch 'em some ale before they go to Kaer Mor-somthing." Urges Yurga, while you jump down from the cart, making hasty steps in Geralt's direction as Yurga and his wife finally look over to watch as the two of you make for the woods, "Hey, Butcher. Butcher! Where you goin'?" Shouts Yurga as Geralt continues onward, almost caught in a trance as he ignores the rambling merchant.

"Y/N?" Shouts the older man, causing you to stop and turn to him, "Where you two goin'?"

Your brows furrow, not completely sure of yourself, "I don't know." You whisper, keeping your body still as you look out at the thick greenery where Geralt had just wandered into for some unknown reason. You can't explain why, but you feel as though this is a path that only he must take.

The girl in the woods will be with him always.

He walks through the forest, his feet taking him somewhere or rather to someone who's been hiding from him for a long time. He can't even fully explain it, the call he feels to find what he's seeking. He suddenly stops, thinking his thoughts must be false and this urge to find who lingers in the wood is simply horseshit as per usual. A false sense of destiny. He turns around, walking a couple steps further back the way he came before an undeniable urge to look back consumes him.

The girl in the woods will be with you always.

And there she is, Princess Cirilla of Cintra, a shining beacon of hope in the dull wet gloom of the towering forest.

Destiny has prevailed.

Your boots shift from right to left as you stand idly in the morning air, your thoughts swimming around in your head of what could be taking Geralt so damn long, even if it's only realistically been about three minutes. Your new friends from behind you have instead left you to yourself and decided to tend to their horses, much to your relief.

Hugging yourself closer, you shiver, though you're not cold. A kind of magic of sorts seems to catch you in the misty air, a feeling you haven't felt since that night at Pavetta's banquet pulls around you like leaves on the wind.

How odd it feels, yet this seems right.

Two heartbeats reach your heightened ears, one so slow. But the other, beats normally like that of a child's.

You take a step back, steadying yourself as you wait for who you're expecting to inevitably appear. Shoes move across earth and leaves, signaling their close arrival. Your nerves die as two shadows emerge from the bushes and into the sunlight, the two of them are talking, unaware of your presence in the yard.

The child suddenly looks, her enchanted blue green irises falling onto you as she quickly comes to a halt, her eyes full of wonder and nervous apprehension. Geralt's brows furrow as he stops as well, his face turning to find the source of the girls fear.

His golden eyes spot you in an instant, he finds you staring curiously at the small blonde girl, the tiniest of smiles gracing your lips as you fiddle with your hands. You can't help but feel ridiculous for how you've been feeling about meeting this Child Surprise after so long, she is just a girl, a survivor of the unspeakable. Though you may not be the best with children in general, you feel no ill will against this one, all those previous feelings of loathing and judgement are gone to the wind.

Geralt's eyes are kind as he gently rests a comforting hand over her thin shoulder, she looks to him now then back to you as he speaks, "This is Y/N of Alkatraz, the dhampir princess of the High Northern Kingdom. My uh, lover?" He says cautiously, a bit unsure of what to truly call you before he thankfully finds his words, "Well...uh, my immortal companion, and someone who I love very deeply."

Oh, Geralt you adorable idiot.

Ciri's brows furrow in thought for a moment as she finds her courage, "My grandmother told me of that kingdom, she said it is ruled by vampires. Are you one?" She wonders, her voice a small nervous whisper.

The corners of your eyes crinkle in amusement as you smile, shaking your head, "No my dear princess, I am of that blood and character, but a dhampir is what I am as Geralt said. It's someone who is half vampire and half human." You assure the small girl, "No need to fear me, I promise you princess that I would never harm you in any way, you have my word."

A small grin tugs at the corners of her lips before her eyes fall downcast, "That's very kind, most people I've met so far out here have tried to kill me." She hands you the flash of a smile, "Glad to know not everyone is like them." She reveals freely to you with her small voice, so this is truly the Child Surprise.

The princess of Cintra.

"With us, you will not have to fear the damned talons of Nilfgaard Princess Cirilla...I will protect you with my life now."

Her brows furrow in thought at your truthful words, "You know of me? But how?"

You smile kindly, your scarlet irises flashing over to Geralt for a brief moment, "I have traveled with this handsome Witcher for almost fifty years, I know everything he knows. Even who you are." You take a couple steps forward, kneeling down to face her sad eyes, "And I am truly sorry for your loss, no child deserves the pain and fear you have endured since Cintra's fall. No less the horrors you have witnessed since your escape, these lands are undoubtedly deadly."

"Thank you, Y/N." She looks from you to Geralt, "I'm glad to have found you both then." You smile, standing up fully to lace your arm with Geralt's.

"Now, I think these kind people here may have breakfast waiting for us and some ale if I'm lucky, so my small friend Ciri, would you join us for a decently peaceful morning?" Ciri gifts your ears with a small giggle as Geralt hums in amusement. Proud that you're taking so well to the newest addition to your group of two.

You turn around just as the curly haired woman waves, "Would you all mind joining us for breakfast?" She calls out as a satisfied grin breaks out upon your face, "Of course we would be delighted!" You shout back, probably with too much excitement but you're trying to look as non threatening as possible. Also you are admittedly very hungry.

The three of you begin walking toward the farmhouse, Ciri follows the woman and her husband inside as Geralt stops near the entrance, you turn a raised brow to him, "What is it now? You planning on finding another magical orphan in the woods again?"

He looks down at the muddy ground before finding your lingering gaze once again, "No, just trying to figure out what to do next." Grumbles your Witcher in that lovable gravely voice of his.

You gently squeeze his hand as a smirk plays at your lips, "How bout we think of breakfast first? Then we can set our sights on paying our friends at Kaer Morhen a little visit. Bet they'd love that." You add sarcastically, wiggling your brows.

Your Witcher finally gives you a small smile, "Oh, I'm sure they'll be thrilled to see you again." He jests.

Lightly smacking his arm you take a step into the doorway, turning back to look at him, "What? Am I not nice and lovable? Can't believe you'd even say that."

"Only when you want to be." Mutters Geralt before gently kissing the side of your head while walking past you, "Now lets get some ale."

-

Tagged:  @seninjakitey​  @notahappytree​ @ashleyforeverareject​ @sokkasdarling​ @kmuir1​​@haleypearce @diegos-butt​ (@auds24 sorry idk why ur name won’t work) @a-girl-who-loves-disney

#the witcher #the witcher x reader #the witcher x you #the witcher x y/n #geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia x you #geralt x reader #geralt x you #princess cirilla #roach the horse

[the-spinning-jenny]

hiraeth

For @a-kind-of-merry-war who wished for whump and hurt/comfort, angsty with a happy ending, and creature!Jaskier. Hope you like it! @thewitchersecretsanta  

---

Jaskier is not knowledgeable about many mythical creatures, but he knows the following to be true.

Sirens search for humans to eat them. Mermaids search for humans to drown them. Selkies, though, selkies search for humans to find someone they can call home. They search for someone to give their coat to hold and cherish them. 

Jaskier knows these things for certain. After all, he is a selkie too. 

---

Jaskier knows Geralt of Rivia is a great and good man. He saves lives when no one appreciates it. He kills monsters even when people cannot afford to pay for it.

The two of them are sitting around a campfire some weeks still traveling together after the edge of the world events. 

“Despite what you may say, my witcher friend, you are a good man,” Jaskier says as he looks into the fire and plays some chords on his new lute.

He hears Geralt scoff. 

“Bard,” Geralt says. “We are not friends and you do not know me.”

“I know enough. I could know more,” Jaskier smiles. 

Geralt grunts. He throws more wood into the fire and the campsite is silent for some while except for Jaskier’s lute. “What happened with Filavandrel is me at my best, bard. Everything else will be worse. I don’t want you to know me better and neither will you want to,” Geralt says at last. 

Ah, but Jaskier knows in sea bones that he does want to. Jaskier sees the man across the campfire from him, he sees the good man for who he is, and he knows that he wants to make Geralt his home. 

He’s followed Geralt to the edge of the world and he will follow him anywhere, land or sea. 

---

Life onshore can be difficult, Jaskier had been warned by other selkies, but none of them know how hard life onshore with a witcher can be.

Witchers are feared and hated everywhere from what Jaskier can tell. They get underpaid, they get turned away at inns, and in general, people just aren’t very nice to them. It’s annoying, Jaskier decides. It’s definitely inconvenient for Geralt, and being the stubborn selkie Jaskier is, he decides that if he wants a happy home, then he must get others to treat his home better. And although he’s not sure if Geralt is ever really happy, it can’t hurt if Geralt can at least get a decent night’s rest in an inn room instead of on the dirt all the time. 

Jaskier unleashes as many songs about the White Wolf and witchers’ heroics as he can think of. They’re catchy and it takes years, but he knows they’re working. He’s accidentally even made himself a bit of a famous bard too while he’s at it. 

He gets better at helping secure inn rooms for Geralt. He even helps barter with aldermen and nobles who hire Geralt in order to make sure Geralt gets paid fairly. 

He’d think after all those years of devotion that Geralt would at least call him a friend. He thinks Geralt has to know that Jaskier cares. Maybe he doesn’t know the depth of how much Jaskier cares, but Geralt should know at least that Jaskier cares by now. Jaskier does not even ask for much; he knows he can’t compete with beautiful, powerful Yennefer and Jaskier just wants Geralt to be his home even if it’s as friends. He’d been ready to give his coat to Geralt after the whole djinn incident if he didn’t find Geralt with Yennefer afterwards. 

Jaskier has said time and time again that Geralt is his very best friend in the whole wide world. This time, they’re in the dragon hunt on the mountain and Jaskier sees that Geralt and Yennefer aren’t agreeing with each other again. He thinks, maybe, and he asks too if Geralt wants to go to the coast with him. Because Jaskier isn’t Yennefer, but he hopes that the coast could bring Geralt some peace and joy as much as it brings Jaskier. 

He hopes so much. 

---

"If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands," yells Geralt, rage seething from his face, voice raised and so very angry, mouth curled into a snarl and, well, Jaskier does go to the coast in the end. 

He just happens to go alone.

---

It’s been a few quiet months. Jaskier mostly goes from one little coastal town to another and finds taverns to perform in just fine. He makes good money, but it has been a while since he’s sung about the White Wolf. Jaskier is doing fine, he supposes. He’s sitting at the bar in a tavern one bleary, rainy afternoon when the front door slams open and a local fisherman runs in to sit beside him. He looks over to the tavern keeper across the bar.  

“Melitele, you would not believe what I saw on the beaches just now!” the fisherman exclaims to the tavern keeper. “I think there’s a stand off between some Nilfgaardians, a white haired fella, and a child. Passed by them while docking at the pier. You’d best warn everyone to keep clear of the beaches right now. It could get messy.” 

The tavern keeper grimaces. “Nilfgaard is always looking for trouble, those no gooders,” he remarks. 

Jaskier’s blood runs cold and he shakily asks, “Where was this?”

The fisherman scoffs, “Bard, this is no battle you want to witness for a song. Best look the other way for these sorts of things.”

Jaskier insists again, pries out directions, gets called a stupid fool, and runs towards the beach. 

---

When Jaskier gets to the stormy beach, he sees a distressed blonde girl, Geralt fighting with another soldier in the water, and what he presumes are a couple dead Nilfgaardian soldiers lying around on the sand between the girl and Geralt. 

The girl, which Jaskier assumes is Geralt’s child surprise, turns around at Jaskier’s fast approaching footsteps and he hopes that he looks every bit of the completely approachable bard lugging a lute and an inconspicuous bag with his selkie coat. She frantically says, “Please! Sir, I-I screamed a-and the soldiers chasing us are dead but my guardian and one of the soldiers got blown into the waters and please, you’ve got to get help!” 

The girl clutches at one of Jaskier’s arms pleadingly. Jaskier looks over to see Geralt, losing to the last soldier trying to drown him. He sees the soldier shove Geralt under the water and the girl gasps in horror. 

“We don’t have time to get help. Geralt needs help now,” Jaskier says and the girl’s eyes widened.

“Wait, how do you know Geralt-” 

Jaskier shakes the child surprise’s arm off him, drops his lute, and takes out his coat. He runs into the ocean, puts on his coat, and swims as fast as he can to Geralt. 

In the waters, Jaskier sees Geralt and the soldier battling it out, but Geralt is quickly losing. They turn to see Jaskier in selkie form approaching and the soldier desperately tries to swim away, but it’s too late. 

The soldier's neck doesn’t stand a chance against a selkie’s teeth. 

It’s relatively easy and fast for Jaskier to take a barely conscious Geralt to shore. Jaskier prays to the gods he had arrived in time. He doesn’t know how long Geralt has been in the water. Once he brings Geralt onto the sand, he sees Geralt coughing out water and making a move to sit up.

“What the fuck?” Geralt sputters out between coughs. 

“Geralt!” the child surprise exclaims in tears as she runs towards Geralt with Jaskier’s lute hanging on her back using the lute straps. She’s dragging one of Geralt’s swords with her behind her. 

She drops the sword besides him. “You’re okay,” she sobs into his arms. 

“Ciri, I’m alright. Why do you have Jaskier’s lute?” Geralt asks. 

The child surprise, Ciri, looks up and says, “Who’s Jaskier? I asked a man on the shore for help and he dropped this and he dove into the waters to help after he turned- he turned into…” 

Ciri trails off and looks at the selkie. Geralt does the same. 

“Jaskier?” Geralt asks, looking at him. 

Jaskier takes off his coat and throws it to the side. He’s back in human form and holds his hands up. “Geralt, it’s me,” Jaskier says.

Geralt’s eyes grow big. He shoves Ciri behind him protectively and reaches for his sword. “What the fuck are you?” Geralt says as he raises his sword at Jaskier. 

There are a thousand ways Jaskier has imagined Geralt finally finding out that Jaskier is a selkie.There are a thousand ways Jaskier has imagined his reunion with Geralt since that cold, cold day on the mountain. A stormy day on the beach with dead soldiers lying around everywhere, one lone soldier’s body floating in the waters that Jaskier freshly murdered, and with Geralt’s silver sword pointed at him - this is not a scenario Jaskier had imagined for things to go down at all.

“I’m a selkie. I’ve always been a selkie,” Jaskier miserably replies. 

 “Are you playing some sort of sick selkie game with us now? Are you the real Jaskier?” Geralt accuses. The sword pointed at him does not lower. 

“Geralt, what?! No, it’s me!” Jaskier exclaims, but he sees the view around him. Dead men surrounding them, the rain pouring hard still on everyone, Geralt’s immense glower and Ciri’s confused face. 

Jaskier’s heart breaks even more and a sinking, terrible feeling forms in the pit of stomach. He doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know what to say. 

So, Jaskier runs. He thinks he hears his name being shouted, but he knows Geralt’s too tired to chase him. 

Jaskier closes his watery eyes and runs faster.

---

Jaskier lies on his bed in his room at the inn. 

His clothes are drenched in sea water and rain, but he doesn’t care. He curls into a ball on his side and shivers. He doesn’t know how long he’s been lying down but Jaskier thinks if he stays in bed, he finds breathing a little bit easier even if things are a mess right now. 

He knows it’s only a matter of time before Geralt finds him. There is no point in changing into new clothes. Jaskier curses himself and realizes he ran off without his coat and lute. His most prized possessions are left back at the beach. If there is an award for being the worst selkie ever, Jaskier is winning it. 

Someone knocks at his door. 

Jaskier breathes in shakily. “Door’s unlocked,” Jaskier says. “If you’re going to kill me, perhaps re-consider waiting until the rain’s let up and we could do this outside. Beheading stains very badly on bed sheets.”

Jaskier hears the door open wide and there’s light feet moving fast towards him. He opens his eyes and looks up to see Ciri standing beside the bed. She sticks out her arms holding his coat, which has carefully folded, and places the coat in front Jaskier. 

“Thank you for saving Geralt,” she says. Her face has stubborn determination. 

“You’re not scary to me. I won’t let Geralt kill you,” she continues. 

Jaskier weakly smiles. “Good to know,” he says. He looks behind her. 

“Where is your guardian, anyways?” Jaskier begins to ask, but he sees Geralt run in the hallway outside his room and then notices the two of them. 

Geralt steps into the room with Jaskier’s lute in one of his hands. “Ciri, go to our room. I’ve...things to discuss with Jaskier,” he says hesitantly.

Ciri nods and whispers to Jaskier, “It’s okay. I think I knocked some sense into him and you’re okay, I promise,” she says before leaving the room.

Once the door shuts behind her, Jaskier sighs. He sits up and swings his legs over the side of the bed. He shakily says, “I can leave once the rain lets up, Geralt. We- you- we don’t have to talk about this.”

Jaskier looks down at his coat. “This monster’s going to take himself off your hands as soon as he can, alright?” Jaskier says quietly. 

He hears Geralt walk over to him and sees the lute being set down on the floor beside him. 

He looks up to see Geralt kneel in front of him. One of Geralt’s hands slowly reaches for Jaskier’s hand. Jaskier tries not to flinch away, but something on Jaskier’s face still gives it away because Geralt grimaces.

“You’re really a selkie, then,” Geralt says at last. 

“Surprise?” Jaskier says weakly. 

There’s a moment of silence. Then, Geralt starts again, “Witchers don’t normally deal with selkies. To my knowledge, they’re usually harmless and their only interaction with humans is if they have lovers to-”

“Give their coats to,” Jaskier finishes. 

Geralt nods. “Have you? In all our travels, I never saw you do that,” he says. 

Jaskier’s eyes start to sting and he gives a strained smile. “Ah, I’ve awful timing, it would seem. And there was never a good time to give it to you,” Jaskier replies. 

Geralt looks shocked. The moment the words leave Jaskier, he feels freer. What a terrifying and freeing thing to lay it all out, he thinks. 

“It’s alright,” Jaskier continues. “I tried, you know? But it would appear all I’ve ever done is make things worse and I wasn’t going to fight against Yennefer. I know, alright, there is no competition there-”

“Jaskier,” Geralt tries to interrupt, but Jaskier keeps on talking.

“No, it’s okay, Geralt,” Jaskier says even though he’s trying to keep back tears unsuccessfully. “You don’t like all the songs I’ve sung. I talk too much, I’m in the way, and all I’ve done is make things worse for you. You’re right, I’m just shoveling shit and I’m sorry, Geralt. I’m so, so sorry. I’m not a very good selkie-”

Geralt pulls Jaskier into a hug and Jaskier freezes. 

“Forgive me, bard,” Geralt says.

Geralt pulls back from the hug to look at Jaskier. His hands still hold Jaskier’s sides. 

“You’re- you’re a good selkie,” Geralt tries to say and Jaskier sobs. It’s all he’s ever wanted to hear and Jaskier can hardly believe it.

“Jaskier!” Geralt says with alarm, but Jaskier shakes his head. 

“I just never thought I’d hear you say that,” Jaskier says and Geralt has never looked more sorrowful. 

“I should not have yelled at you on that day on top of the mountain. My anger with Yennefer, it should not have been aimed at you,” Geralt says and then continues, “Forgive me, bard. You were my only friend who was good to me for all these years, and I should have said that I want you in my life, not out of it.” 

Geralt looks over to the folded coat, lets go of Jaskier, and picks up the coat. “Here,” he says. “Ciri and I - we wanted to give this back to you. I know selkie coats are important. Take your coat. Forgive me, and if you wish, come with me and Ciri to Kaer Morhen. I won’t take you for granted again.”

“You mean that?” he asks.

Geralt nods. “You’ve always been good to me, bard, and I’d like to do the same.”

Jaskier weighs his options. “And if I want more?” he says. “If I wanted to give you my coat, would you hold onto it?”

Geralt’s expression softens, but Jaskier panics. 

“Nevermind,” Jaskier frets and looks down. “It- I shouldn’t have asked. It’s a lot and I don’t know where you stand on this, but Geralt, you have to know what it means when I said before I wanted to give you my coat, I -” 

“Jaskier, look at me.”

Jaskier does so and Geralt’s soft look is still there. 

“There has not been a day that has gone by since that day on the mountain where I have not missed you,” Geralt says. He holds Jaskier’s coat carefully and nods. 

“I accept your coat. If you wish for more than friendship, I will gladly give you more,” Geralt says.

Jaskier smiles so wide. He’s so happy he doesn’t think twice before he surges forward to kiss Geralt. It’s brief bliss and then Jaskier jerks back when he realizes what he’s done. 

“I, um,perhaps a bit premature of me,” Jaskier stutters. 

Geralt hums with amusement. Then, he leans in and asks again, “Jaskier, come home with me to Kaer Morhen?”

---

Jaskier nods and whispers a yes. When Geralt closes the gap between them and kisses him, Jaskier has never felt more at home than he does right now and he is of the firm belief that it could only get better at Kaer Morhen.

#thewitchersecretsanta #a-kind-of-merry-war #geraskier

[hpkinktober]

Almost a month after HP Kinktober ended, I have finally created a complete masterlist of the wonderful Drarry works we were gifted with from this astoundingly creative community. Since I am only human, please let me know if anything is wrong with this post (broken link, mispelled author name, etc). 

Day 1: Foreplay 

Love Me Like Red Wine by @triggerlil​ (M, 290) 

Harry prepares a meal, but Draco can't focus on the food. It's not his fault that Harry's so damn attractive.

Foreplay by @ladderofyears​ (E, 100)

In which Draco wears sky-blue, lacy bikini knickers. 

Kiss Him All the Way Up by @chuckweasley​ (M, Digital Art) 

Is Harry into feet? Does he want to kiss Draco on every square inch of his body? Is he kissing a trail from his toes up? You decide!

Water Spirit by @laurisophi​ (E, 703) 

Harry wants to surprise Draco for their anniversary and show more of himself.

"You look like a lake spirit, bath by the moon, covered in green.” He kisses your shoulder and one hand slides over your back, your side, your hip.

A ficlet for the first day of HP Kinktober 2020: foreplay.

Day 2: Instant Darkness Powder 

Under the Cover of Darkness by @manixzen​ (M, 2k) 

Thanks to Pansy, Draco's stuck at a party with a whole bunch of drunk Gryffindors. And now they want to play party games. If only Draco can slip out unnoticed before this gets any worse.

Instant Darkness Powder by @ladderofyears​ (M, 116) 

Auror Partners Harry and Draco are trapped in the dark. Flirting ensues.

A Smoke Afterwards by @chuckweasley​ (M, Digital Art) 

I wonder who’s holding the lighter...

Day 3: Polyjuice 

Prompt: Polyjuice by blackswingsblackwords (T, 349) 

In which there is (supposed to be) roleplaying.

Polyjuice by @ladderofyears​ (E, 100) 

Harry takes Polyjuice Potion so Draco can fuck himself. 

Polyjuice by CuriousEmWanders (E, 985)

In which Draco lets his curiosity and obsession get the best of him. He just needs to know what Harry looks like. How else is he supposed to find out?

Day 4: Amortentia 

Occupational Hazard by @ladderofyears​ (E, 100)

Potions Master Draco has been brewing Amortentia. 

Prompt: Amortentia by blackwingsblackwords (T, 463)

In which there is a secret relationship. 

Smells Like You by CuriousEmWanders (E, 3.1k) 

Draco may not smell anything in his Amortentia, but that doesn't stop him from taking it to help him submit to his Dom de jour. 

Day 5: Spell Play 

A Magic Number of Orgasms @ladderofyears​ (E, 100) 

Harry and Draco experiment with a sex spell. 

Just Let Go by @manixzen​ (E, 3.4k) 

Draco struggles with letting go of his need for control, both at work and at home. Harry can help.

Prompt: Spell Play by blackwingsblackwords (T, 1.1k) 

In which an exhausted dad dates a smitten hero.

Day 6: Parseltongue 

Lucky Bloody Serpent by @ladderofyears​ (G, 100) 

When Harry gets a pet snake, Draco gets (a tiny bit) jealous.

a simple thank you can go a long way by @crimsonhead-ache​ (E, 2.7k)

The one where Draco needs to thank him and Harry allows him.

Also Parseltongue.

And dicks.

Draco’s Favorite Thing by CuriousEmWanders (E, 1.2k)

Draco has a thing for when Harry talks to him in parseltongue, and he's glad Harry doesn't know. Or does he?

The Hottest Parselmouth by @chuckweasley​ (T, Digital Art) 

Draco cannot handle how hot Harry is when he’s speaking parseltongue, even though he has no idea what Harry’s saying.

Day 7: Creature!Fic 

I’ll Huff, And I’ll Puff, And I’ll Blow Your House In... by @ladderofyears​ (M, 100)

There’s a Werewolf on the loose and he’s out to get Draco! 

Thirst by @fluxweeed​ (E, 4.4k) 

The path of Malfoy’s scent is obvious; Harry hasn’t fed for days, so his senses are sharp. Deadly.

And Malfoy smells so good.

Day 8: Imperius

Imperius by @ladderofyears​ (E, 100)

Harry and Draco are put under the Imperius Curse.

Non-con warning 

Day 9: Legilimency 

Legilimens by @ladderofyears​ (E, 100)

Draco shares his sexual fantasies with his lover Harry. 

Day 10: Dark Magic Ritual 

Reanimation Ritual by @ladderofyears​ (M, 100) 

Draco performs a Dark Magic ritual to bring his dead lover Harry back to him. 

A Moment of Intent by @manixzen​ (E, 4.6k) 

Auror Harry Potter and Curse Breaker Draco Malfoy are on another case, this time a Dark Arts Ritual gone wrong. Surely, they won’t botch up yet another crime scene.

Day 11: Invisibility Cloak

Tryst Behind The Tapestry by @ladderofyears​ (E, 1k)

It's Eighth Year and Harry and Draco enjoy some very sexy - and very invisible - fun after dark has fallen at Hogwarts.

Invisibly Arouse (E, Digital Art) by @chuckweasley​

The boys get frisky under the cloak!

Day 12: Duelling

Duel by @ladderofyears​ (M, 365) 

Harry and Draco practice duelling and things get a little heated.

Prompt: Dueling by blackwingsblackwords (T, 534)

In which a lesson is learned.

Cut Me Open (and use me) by @triggerlil​

Draco is the heir to the throne of England. Harry is a nobleman who wants to reclaim his honour. Somehow, these two things are intimately linked. Enter a sword, a dagger, and the hands of God, and you have a story about two men with tongues like knives, learning to lick love off sharp edges.

Day 13: Mirror

Deep Dark Truthful Mirror by @ladderofyears​ (E, 2k)

Draco shows Harry a very old, very powerful magical object: a mirror that will show his deepest, darkest sexual desires.

Getting Ready for Harry by @chuckweasley​ (G, Digital Art) 

Harry likes Draco in glitter and cozy sweaters...don’t we all?

Day 16: Magic Sex Toys 

hot damn, hot water, hot shower by @crimsonhead-ache​

Harry was more than ready for a long soak, a nice glass of firewhiskey, and twelve hours of sleep.

Too bad life never works out the way it's planned, or is it?

Colour, love?  by @choulatte​ (E, 7.7k) 

Holding Harry’s gaze, Draco took out the lube and let his fingers dance over the golden cockring he'd previously kept hidden, liberally coating it in the slippery substance. He watched how Harry’s eyes followed his movements, a desperate groan escaping the other man when he finally recognized his fate.

Draco merely smiled.

Both by @chuckweasley​ (E, Digital Art) 

Harry knows Draco likes to be filled.

Day 17: Room of Requirement 

No Fantasy Required by @manixzen​ (E, 4.1k) 

The Room of Requirement has never quite recovered from the war. It seems hell-bent on fulfilling every need of students and faculty alike, in or out of the room itself. Professors Potter and Malfoy really wish it would stop trying to do the students’ homework, though.

The Room Of Requirement Always Provides by @ladderofyears​ (E, 100)

Just a hundred words of Draco and Harry having some smutty fun in the Room of Requirement.

Day 18: Herbology 

Knowledge by @ladderofyears​ (E, 100)

Harry and Draco inhale sex pollen.

Day 19: Hair Pulling 

Yeah, Pull it Harder by @chuckweasley​ (E, Digital Art) 

The sex is very good. 

Day 20: Veritaserum 

Neither Of Us Have To Say A Single Word by @ladderofyears​ (T, 365) 

When Draco is being badly bullied, Harry steps in and looks after him. Pre-slash.

A Bit of Honesty by @manixzen​ (E, 3.6k) 

A Hogwarts ball, a spiked punch, Professor Potter and Professor Malfoy on chaperone duty… what could go wrong?

Day 21: Dragonhide 

Dressing Up by @ladderofyears​ (T, 333) 

The Potter-Malfoy family negotiate the tricky issue of Halloween costumes.

All Wrapped Up by @chuckweasley​ (E, Digital Art) 

The boys take care of each other the best they can. 

Day 22: Gillyweed 

The Shape Of Love by @ladderofyears​ (E, 200) 

Harry and Draco take Gillyweed and make love in The Black Lake. 

Day 25: Tattoos 

Tear it down piece by piece by moonstruckmuse (E, 7.8k) 

Draco just wants to get rid of this stupid Dark Mark. Why is this so complicated?

His to Adorn, to Cherish, & to Keep by @maesmora​ (E, 1.4k) 

Draco Malfoy is many things: calm, collected, in control. At least until Harry Potter gets his hands on him, and those aren't the only things Draco lets Harry put on his body...

Day 26: Exhibitionism 

how can anybody have you and lose you and not lose their mind too? by @crimsonhead-ache​ (E, 3.8k) 

As soon as he received that letter in the post last week from Potter’s boyfriend, he knew he would be in for it. 

Day 27: Formal Wear 

I guess that’s just me, honey, I guess that’s how I’m built by @crimsonhead-ache​ (E, 4k)

The way they adorned Potter’s body like they were made for him made him want to kiss his seamstresses’ feet. The lines, the colors, brought out his skin tone like nothing ever could.

Well, except perhaps the ropes Draco keeps in the bottom drawer of his bedside table.

Harry Potter and his Great Big Suit Kink by @swisstae​ (M, 2k)

Harry really doesn’t want to say it. Not because he thinks Draco will judge, mind you, but because it’s so embarrassing. Harry Potter—Saviour of the Wizarding World—turning into an incoherent mess at the sight of his boyfriend wearing a suit.

Waste Not, Want Not by @dragontamerdame​ (M, Art) 

Harry may have gone a bit too far. 

Day 28: Floo 

the rush I get touchin’ you is somethin’ else by @crimsonhead-ache​ (E, 3.1k)

Harry frowned though; instead of feeling his joggers that had adorned his lower-half, now he felt the air hit his bare legs.   He was going to murder Draco.

come through the fire my love by @triggerlil​ (T, 534) 

Harry prepares for date night with Draco... until the man calls him through the floo to tell him he'll be late. Draco's just lucky Harry has a thing for fire.

Day 29: Wandless Magic 

Without a touch by moonstruckmuse (M, 207) 

Learning to do wandless magic. 

#hpkinktober #hp kinktober #harry potter #draco malfoy #draco/harry #harry potter/draco malfoy #draco malfoy/harry potter #drarry #kinktober drarry #drarry master list #drarry fic post #fic recs #drarry fics #drarry fic list #drarry rec list #harry/draco

[adamfoolcry]

Troublesome (Part III)

part I, part II, part III (2) - coming soon

pairings: Maneater/Partygirl!Reader x BoyfriendMaterial!Jungwoo, Maneater/Partygirl!Reader x FirstLove!Hendery, BestCousin!Sicheng, Bestfriend!Lucas

pairings: 18+

warnings: consumption of alcohol, swearing, explicit language

genre: comedy maybe even a crackfic, smut, fluff, and a teeny tiny pinch of angst

summary: Your relationship with Jungwoo is moving fast except for one part, your sex life. You didn’t know you signed up for the nunnery when you agreed to dating him. Oh, and Lucas your best friend is transferring to Korea.

word count: 3,438

chinese slang: meimei = little sister, gege = older brother, baobei = baby

a/n: I always forgot I have this in my drafts nyways there is no smut here and jungwoo barely appears. Here is the third installment of my crackfic:Troublesome.

"Mèimei no you're not moving in with Jungwoo. Don't even try I won't ever allow you to." Sicheng's eyes were hard he was already set to stone. Yes, it is nice that you have finally decided to pursue a serious relationship since your first one but isn't living together too much of a stretch.

"As if that will stop me Gege. Go worry about your relationship I heard Jiwon is complaining about your lack of sex drive." You are already packing your things at your dorm when Sicheng stormed in with angry livid eyes going on and on about that moving in this early in a relationship is too fast. You have been dating Jungwoo for three months now and everything is going smoothly. Your ears are ringing from his sermon and Sicheng won't shut up.

"Shut your yap Sicheng gege! I know you care about me but if you won't support my decisions then get the fuck out of here." You shouted at him. Sicheng was so astonished it has been a while since you raised your voice at him. Jungwoo entered the room unaware of what's happening.

"Princess you finished? Oh Sicheng hyung why are you here?" Jungwoo looked at Sicheng confused. You would have never guessed what will happen next Sicheng have never been a person capable of hurting any living creature but he leaped at Jungwoo punching the other boy's cheek.

"How dare you Jungwoo! How can you tell her our boy talk? We swore an oath!" They both stumbled down to the ground Sicheng straddling Jungwoo's waist pulling his fist back for another punch aiming for Jungwoo's jaw.

"You don't know how powerful she is hyung." Jungwoo made a makeshift shield using his arms attempting to block Sicheng's upcoming punch.

"No gege! Not my baby's face don't ruin his face!" You shouted at Sicheng. Sicheng slowly put his fist down and got off Jungwoo's waist.

"Whatever do what you want to do mèimei. I am tired of taking care of you." Sicheng said resigned knowing he can never stop you because of how stubborn you are.

You quickly rushed to hug Sicheng from behind proclaiming your undying love for him. "I love you so much gege you know that right." Jungwoo stood up from where he is situated on the floor and joined the group hug, hugging Sicheng from the front.

"Get off me man." Sicheng said irritated. Jungwoo pried Sicheng out of your embrace and replace Sicheng's position circling his arms around you. You giggled at how silly Jungwoo is. He looked down at you and asked. "Why didn't you help me when Sicheng Hyung is beating me up?"

You looked at Jungwoo your eyes glinting with menace. "You two looked like the main characters of a BL series it's so hot."

Both men exclaimed mortified.

"Princess!"

"Mèimei!"

In the end, it was Sicheng and Jungwoo who did all the work packing up your things and moving it to Jungwoo's apartment while you order them left and right. Jungwoo was so tired that after setting up everything he fell to the bed out of exhaustion straight out of the shower. You pout beside him you have prepped yourself with your high-end lotion and even waxed your coochie one week prior to the move for the most-awaited sexy time but ever since Jungwoo asked you out, you two have never done it and he won't even let you see his dick. Yes, he was superb in fingering and eating you out but you're really high maintenance. Before this relationship, you go around the town thrice a week with different flavors. How can he neglect you like this? You shook his arm timidly.

He opened one of his eyes and turned his face sideways to smile at you. "What is it, Princess? Why are you grumpy?"

"Jungwoo why do you deprive me of your allegedly self-proclaimed big dick?" You pouted at him.

"Good things to those who wait Princess. Come here hug your baby. I am so tired we have to convert the other room into your walk-in closet because you own too many clothes." You snuggled beside him wrapping your arms around his chest.

"Why do you own so many Halloween costumes?" Jungwoo asked you confused.

"That's for roleplaying stupid." You rolled your eyes at him.

"Then why is there a guadatema onesie I don't think my dick will react to that." Jungwoo announced incredulously.

"That's my pajamas!" You slapped his chest.

Today is your fourth month anniversary and you are getting tired of Jungwoo not initiating sex. You can't take this anymore you have been practicing celibacy for four months now you didn't know you signed up for the nunnery when you got into this relationship. Jungwoo always looked so hot especially when shirtless yes he doesn't have a six-pack but he's lean and well-muscled and holy shit his v line coupled with his height. Every time you see him shirtless you are sure you like a dog with rabies salivating at the sight of him. You don't know if he is teasing or he is that oblivious. Sicheng called you and waved his hands up your face seeing that you are not listening to him anymore.

"Mèimei did you understand what I said?" Sicheng asked you.

"Yeah yeah." You brushed him off. "We will fetch Lucas at the airport next week. He will be transferring next sem at our university and will be staying at your apartment." It's not that you are not excited to see your bestfriend again but there are more pressing matters like you going crazy because of your nonexistent sex life.

"Gege did I gain weight?" You asked Sicheng to which he answered with a shake of his head.

"Did I become less attractive?" You asked him again.

"Mèimei what is this about? This is the first time you have been insecure." Sicheng asked you seriously.

"It-has-been-four-months-since-Jungwoo-and-I-started-dating-and-he-never-initiated-to-have-sex-with-me." You let it all out in one breath embarrassed that you are confiding to your older cousin. Sicheng laughed so hard that he was clutching his stomach.

"So ironic that you a man-eater choose a monk for a boyfriend." Sicheng continued laughing even clapping his hands looking like an overexcited seal.

The three of you are standing at the airport waiting for Lucas. You even prepared a poster for him your arms are getting tired of holding it up but you decided to endure it. Jungwoo hugged you from behind placing his head on your shoulder most likely bored from waiting for 45 minutes.

"Princess so tell me something about Lucas." Jungwoo asked out of curiosity.

"He is our giant baby. For context, he's taller than you. He is always full of energy and is such a sensitive soul despite his appearance." You look at Jungwoo listing Lucas' good points.

"Should I be worried it sounds like he's an old flame?" Jungwoo replied scrunching his eyebrows.

"Yeah he is but it didn't work out." Jungwoo looked at you shocked. You snickered he's so cute. You can't help but press a kiss on his cheek.

"You should actually be worried Jungwoo there was a time that even I feel like a third wheel whenever the three of us go out and that was after they decided to be just friends. The two of them are so alike.” Sicheng fueled Jungwoo's worries. Just as Sicheng finished his sentence you saw Lucas running towards the three of you leaving his luggage and sprinting in your direction.

"Baobei!" Lucas shouted opening his arms. You rushed towards him breaking free of Jungwoo's hug and letting your poster fall to the floor. You leaped onto his arms and he lifted you into the air, spinning you around your joyous laughter filling the place. To everyone else watching it's like a scene taken out of romance movies where the two lovers reunited again after having been separated for a long time even the crowd was taking pictures and videos because of the sweet encounter. Jungwoo's jaw almost fell to the floor. This gorgeous man is your bestfriend and also your ex-boyfriend he didn't know he signed up for more trouble when he asked you out.

Sicheng sighed "See what I mean. Don't even try to separate them tonight." Sicheng then proceeded to fetch Lucas' luggage pushing it towards the parking lot.

"Come on you three it's getting close to midnight." Sicheng shouted. Needless to say, Jungwoo went home to your shared apartment alone you decided to spend the night at Sicheng's he wanted to stay with you but you told him that you will be not sleeping and most likely visit a club or two with Lucas.

It was just like the old times when you and Lucas are younger after visiting a club, you two will drive around at the wee hours of the morning grabbing fast food and talking just about everything. It feels comfortable with him but this time neither of you are trying to fill a gap in each other’s hearts. Lucas parked Sicheng's car at a secluded parking lot with a beautiful view of the night sky. The two of you sitting on the hood of the car eating burgers and fries.

"So I heard from Winwin ge that you are in a serious relationship now with that guy Jungwoo." Lucas broke the comfortable silence looking at you his stare questioning.

"Yeah Yukhei can you believe it? and I am so happy. I like him a lot like a lot, a lot." You smiled at him and Lucas smiled back at you. This is Lucas' genuine smile, not the one he throws at potential one night stands he reserves it for his most cherished persons and that includes you.

"I see baobei then there are no questions needed." Lucas reached out and held your hand in his. You are so lucky to have Lucas who supports you unconditionally.

"What about you Yukhei? Tell me do you still pursue casual relationships?" You asked him.

"I actually stopped when you left me in Beijing to study here. With you and Sicheng gone I was so lost and sad. Sleeping with girls didn't help in fact it made me feel crappier so I decided to stop it altogether." Lucas confessed looking down as if he was ashamed of himself. You tried to comfort him leaning your head on his shoulder and drawing circles with your thumb at the back of his hand.

"Don't worry you're here now whenever you feel sad or disheartened just call me and I'll cross the high heavens and lowest depths of hell just to get to you." You poked his belly with your index finger.

"Don't make me cry baobei." You heard Lucas sniffling his tears.

"Even now you're still a big baby Yukhei." You laughed at him. The night sky is so beautiful and you have never felt this happy in a long time.

The next day Sicheng arranged a welcome dinner on behalf of Lucas of course the two of you are fashionably late. Sicheng, Jiwon, and Jungwoo are already at the restaurant waiting for you and Lucas to arrive. You made your entrance at the restaurant your arm looped with Lucas' facing each other talking animatedly and laughing. It was as if the two of you are in your own little bubble. When the two of you reached the table you went to where Jungwoo is and sat beside him. His arm automatically circling your waist as he press a kiss on the side of your head.

"Awww so sweet." Lucas teased you and Jungwoo. He was sitting on the opposite side besides Jiwon.

"You're just jelly Yukhei." You stuck your tongue out at him. Everyone laughed at your retort. The food arrived and the conversation was flowing steadily there was a continuous stream of laughter. Lucas using his charms threw a joke one after another paired with his comical facial expressions and broken english phrases. Sicheng and Jiwon bid goodbye first and left earlier the three of you stayed at the restaurant.

"By the way man did I tell you how I met ________?" Lucas started rubbing his palms together his lips forming an evil grin. You kicked Lucas under the table trying to stop him.

"So it goes like this I met _______ at a club she was having a catfight with another girl who is accusing _______ of sleeping with her boyfriend. They were clawing each other’s' face off basically it was chaos the crowd even formed a circle around them as if it was a live wrestling match betting on who's gonna win. Then-" Lucas stopped his narration and started laughing so hard wiping tears from the corner of his eyes. You started kicking him harder under the table.

"She puked at the other girl I swear everyone was so mortified. I even recorded it on my phone. _______ went viral and was banned at that club." Lucas continued laughing you quickly got of your seat and placed your hands around Lucas' neck intending to choke him. Jungwoo had to pry you off Lucas to make you stop. Lucas was coughing so hard.

"What was that for baobei?" Lucas started rubbing the part where you nearly asphyxiated him a handprint evident on the skin of his neck."Seriously man how do you deal with her?" Lucas asked Jungwoo while trying to clear his throat. Jungwoo just shrugged and looked at you lovingly.

You decided that if Jungwoo won't take matters into his hand you will have to seduce him. You pampered yourself with your one hour self-care routine and wore your white off-shoulder dress showing just the right amount of cleavage that makes you look like a greek goddess.

Jungwoo just got off work from where he was interning at and he just wants to end the day by cuddling you on the bed before going to sleep. When he entered the apartment door he was surprised to see you waiting for him, dressed up so prettily. He smiled he was so lucky to have you.

"Princess you look like an angel." Jungwoo said admiring you.

"You look like a CEO, who fucks his secretary." Did he hear you right? Jungwoo was shocked as you made your way to him like a predator hunting its prey. He was in trance it was as if someone glued him to that spot as he watches the subtle sway of your hips as walk you towards him.

"I can be your secretary." You look up at him sultrily, pushing him against the closed apartment door as you kiss him deeply. You got so impatient to touch his bare skin so you work on untucking his white polo from his slacks. Your greedy little hands roaming under his shirt heating up his skin. Jungwoo pulled your bare thighs around his waist carrying you to the kitchen. He placed you on top of the counter and you pulled him closer wanting to feel his growing bulge against your core. Jungwoo broke the kiss placing his forehead on yours.

"Princess, what brought this on?" He asked breathless tucking some stray strands of hair behind your ears.

"Just because. Do I need a reason to kiss my boyfriend?" You asked him as you press a short kiss to his lips. You started pressing kisses on his jaw at the same time palming his hardening cock. "I want you to fuck me Jungwoo." You stated boldly and Jungwoo moaned closing his eyes in pleasure.

"Princess stop please." Jungwoo placed his forehead on your shoulder trying to control his desire. Your body instantly went cold you can't believe what you have heard. You slid down the counter and Jungwoo reached out to hold your wrist but you moved your hand away.

"Are you disgusted with me Jungwoo? Is that why you don't want to have sex with me? Cause I've been sleeping around before our relationship." You accused him livid; hurt pouring out with every syllable.

"Princess I would never be dis-" You didn't let him finish you turned and walked away from him heading towards the door.

"Princess don't leave let me-" That was the last word you heard from him slamming the door closed at your shared apartment. You ran as fast as you can to the elevator. You drove to Sicheng's place where he and Lucas were having a movie marathon. You stormed to the sofa where they are sitting. Sicheng and Lucas already know that you are in a bad mood just by the sour look on your face.

"Oh oww someone's in her period." Lucas teased you.

"You two go get dressed we're gonna fvcking drink our ass off." They were left with no choice knowing not to oppose you when you get into one of these moods or else you will throw the biggest tantrum that will be the cause of complaint filed by Sicheng's neighbors against him.

Three Jack Daniel's later and an assortment of cocktail drinks littered on the table you are occupying the three of you are utterly and devastatingly wasted. Even Sicheng who has the highest alcohol tolerance is starting to giggle at every little thing you and Lucas are saying.

"Jungwooss thinkss thad I have STDs he dont wanna banggg mee someboddy hang me." You say in a slur. "I am the most top one pretty." Sicheng just giggled again in response.

"Nahhhh you using condomms right? We the advocates of safe sexxx." Lucas shouted the last sentence catching the attention of other bar-goers. Sicheng dialed Jiwon's cell.

"Babbbbyyy I am soo drunkk!" Sicheng can't help but giggle on the phone. Jiwon asked where he is concerned about Sicheng's state of drunkness. After making fun of yourselves for another fifteen minutes Jungwoo came to the rescue before the three of you could make any more scene. Jungwoo attended to you first kneeling so that he'll be at your eye level trying to gauge how far off drunk are you. Your vision is blurry but still seeing him concerned for you makes you forget about the fight you had earlier.

"Hey Handsome why are you here?" You smiled and proceeded to caress his cheek with your fingers.

"I am looking for my girlfriend. She's mad at me -" Jungwoo seized your hand with his pressing his cheek further into your palms looking at you pleading eyes." and I already miss her."

"Take me away then." You throw your arms at Jungwoo's shoulders.

Jungwoo started carrying you in a bridal position. You circled your arms around his neck and leaned all your weight to him causing Jungwoo to almost lose his balance. "Princess don't do that we'll fall if you do that again." You burrowed your head deeper to his neck littering kisses at the juncture where it meets his collarbone. Lucas who was mostly talking to himself and shouting at no one saw that you are being taken away. In his drunkness he didn't recognized that it was Jungwoo and thought you are being kidnapped. He forced himself to catch up with Jungwoo walking in long strides almost slipping a few times due to his dizziness he pulled at Jungwoo's shoulder strong enough to make Jungwoo face him with you slumping in Jungwoo's arms.

"Hey Pervert! Where are you taking Baobei? You have to go through me first." Lucas took a deep breath dramatically as if gathering strength and got into a fighting stance like Bruce lee boucing on the balls of his feet, flinging his arms periodically jabbing into nothing.

"Yukhei my luvvvvv save me from this godawful creature." You dramatically put the back of your hand at your forehead speaking in a theatrical voice playing along with Lucas' delusions.

"Baobei I am coming I'll-" Lucas shouted attracting the crowd's attention. Jungwoo interrupted him before he makes an even bigger scene. "Lucas man, it's Jungwoo. _________'s boyfriend."

"Oh" Lucas was suddenly dumbfounded. "Hi, man nice to meet you I am Yukhei but you can call me Lucas. I am _______'s bestfriend." Lucas scratched his head and smiled sheepishly before passing out on the floor. Jungwoo sighed with Sicheng giggling by himself at the table like he was exposed to some substance to Lucas passed out on the floor he didn't know that liking you would be so troublesome. Jungwoo looked at you in his arms as you scrunch your nose in drunken slumber. Even when you reek of alcohol he found you endearing.

"You're so lucky Princess that I like you a lot." He said as he kissed your scrunched up nose

a/n: Check out my other works for NCT here:masterlist.

part III (2): It was a peaceful morning until someone shrieked so loud that even the neighbors occupying the other units was startled. It was Sicheng who produced that godawful noise finding that he is naked in bed with none other than Lucas who was equally as naked as him sprawled at the other half of the bed. Lucas drowsily opened his eyes seeing Sicheng on the other side of the bed clutching the bed sheets at his chest looking as if someone has harrased him. He looked down and saw that he was only in his underwear and also screamed his lungs out despite having a deeper voice it was as if some girls were having a screaming contest. "What did you to me Winwin ge?" Lucas asked horrified. "What do you mean? I should ask you that I woke up with no clothes on?" Sicheng pointed at him accusingly. "Did we-" Lucas swallowed and looked at everywhere but at Sicheng.

#nctcreations #kpopscape #jungwoo smut #jungwoo fluff #jungwoo nct127 #lucas fluff #lucas wayv #winwin fluff #jungwoo x reader #jungwoo scenarios #jungwoo nct fanfic #jungwoo imagines

[specterchasing-a]

Walking on Broken Glass || Solo

TIMING: Last night.

LOCATION: The Bend.

PARTIES: Eddie and a ghost I accidentally became emotionally attached to.

SUMMARY: Eddie spends some time with a ghostly friend, things get a little heavy, then very stupid, and then heavy again. It’s a roller coaster.

CONTENT: Internalized homophobia tw, homophobia tw

Ask any White Crest native about the derelict houses in the bend and they’ll tell you that ‘abandoned’ doesn’t always mean ‘empty.’ Squatters looking to put a roof over their heads might hunker down in the neglected homes, usually becoming a meal for something sinister, but some occupants can’t be so easily disposed of. Those who have no life to be taken from them cling to familiar places instead of moving on. Before death’s embrace, they hung pictures and changed lightbulbs. They tried to determine which color to paint their living rooms before deciding it would be too much work to relocate the furniture. After all, for something to be abandoned, it must have once been cherished.

Eddie knocked on the front door before letting himself in. He arrived later than usual with hardly any time before the sun hung its hat. Soon enough, ‘the bend’ would become ‘the buffet’ for creatures of the night. “Amira?” he called out as he nudged the door shut with his heel. Broken glass covered the living room floor and crunched under his feet as he ventured into the living room. 

“You were supposed to be here hours ago,” a voice replied.

“I got tied up,” he said, turning to face the specter standing mid-way up the stairs. Amira’s arms were crossed, but a few of the stab-wounds on her chest remained visible. “What’s with the glass?”

“Oh, you know,” Amira sighed as she descended to the ground-floor. “I started thinking about how I’ll never taste freshly made coffee again and it made me so distraught that I shattered the windows.”

“As one does,” Eddie sagely responded. With a shrug, his backpack slipped off his shoulders. He tossed it onto the faded couch and began rifling through the main compartment in search of his portable speaker. “On the bright-side, the outcome of your afterlife crisis has inspired the first title on tonight’s soundtrack.” Eddie placed the speaker on the coffee table and synced it to his phone while Amira closed the distance between them. Her eyes curiously watched as he scrolled through song titles.

“Why couldn’t those have been around in the ‘80s?” she asked with a huff.

“Blame Reagan,” Eddie said before hitting play.

‘Walking on Broken Glass’ by Annie Lennox streamed from the speaker in all its soul-pop glory. Eddie shoved his phone into his back pocket and took a cursory glance around the room in search of the broom and dustpan.

“In the kitchen, where you left them,” Amira instructed.

“How do you do that?”

“What, read your mind? You act like it’s difficult.”

Eddie eyed her with light-hearted skepticism as he slipped by, careful not to pass through her. Amira didn’t like being reminded of her intangibility; it exacerbated the ache of a half-existence. From time to time, when their conversations lulled or Eddie seemed distracted, she asked if he couldn’t see her anymore, always with a look of mild panic. The thought of her killer seeing the world continue to grow and change while she faded away kept her from crossing-over. It didn’t matter that prison bars obstructed his view, she said they were both destined to cope with cages someone else put them in. Her cage had nice flowers on the wallpaper and memories of brighter days, at least.

In the kitchen, Eddie noticed the cupboard doors opening and closing along with the music and immediately grinned. Life dealt him a hand he didn’t always know how to play, but helping the dead come back to life for a little while made it seem worth it. He grabbed the handle of the broom and rejoined Amira in the living room. He watched as her shoulders bounced rhythmically.

“Looks like I’ve given Annie Lennox a brand-new fan,” he remarked. 

“I’m inclined to agree.” Amira simpered at him over her shoulder. “When did this song come out?”

“Uh, the ‘90s, I believe.”

“Explains why I’ve never heard it, but I’m in love with her voice.”

“With pristine taste like that, you’re a girl after my own heart,” Eddie crooned wistfully while ushering shards of glass into a neat pile.

“I don’t think I’m your type.”

Eddie froze mid-sweep and furrowed his brow. He thought about Nell, about Alfie and Kyle, how they highlighted an aspect of himself he preferred to keep in the dark, all in unique ways that seemed to share the same conclusion. Eddie remembered the first time he saw two men holding hands in public and the way his mother told him to look away. He felt scared, not for himself, but for them. That day in the common, onlookers didn’t see an innocent display of affection, they saw something unfit for their children to be around. Eddie didn’t agree, but to think that someone might view him as a threat for something as innocuous as holding another man’s hand shook him to his core. He didn’t want that to be his life.

“Why does everyone assume I’m gay?” Eddie laughed, trying to pretend it didn’t bother him. “Is it, like, a vibe, or… ?”

“I meant because I don’t have a corporeal body, but now that you mention it…”

Realizing the error in his assumption, he quickly pulled his phone out and turned the speaker’s volume up to maximum. “I’m sorry,” he shouted. “I can’t hear you at all, Amira! You’re gonna have to speak up.” Eddie gestured to his ears and shrugged helplessly before turning away from her and making a beeline for the stairs, letting the broom hit the floor as he departed.

“Edward!” Amira called out to him.

“You got me feeling like the Ting Tings because that is not my name!”

“I don’t get that reference! Eddie, get back here, there’s still glass everywhere!”

“Shoulda thought of that before you took your anger out on innocent windows!”

Annie Lennox wailed from downstairs as Eddie barrelled towards the closest door. His hands wrapped around the handle and pulled, but to no avail. 

“You idiot,” Amira scolded, suddenly right next to him. “You can’t hide from me in this house, I’m everywhere.” 

“That’s so scary, why would you say that to me?” Eddie balked through laughter, still tugging fruitlessly on the door. 

It didn’t take much to distract Eddie from the uncomfortable topics that plagued his mind. He perfected the art of running away from his problems at an early age like a true prodigy. Even Amira cracked a smile at how utterly ridiculous he looked trying to open a door he didn’t stand a chance against. 

“Fine, you want inside that bad? Go ahead.” With a flick of her wrist, the door opened and Eddie, not letting go of the door fast enough, fell back against the upstairs railing. His chest heaved as looked down at the distance between himself and the floor.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “I could’ve died—then we’d be roommates.”

“God forbid,” Amira tittered.

Eddie elected to ignore that comment and focus on the room he now had access to. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in here,” he said as took a few steps in. Aside from the moonlight streaming in from the window, shadows dominated every corner. He squinted to bring what he could into focus: a large bed with a plush comforter, a vanity littered with objects he couldn’t quite make out, a couple of nightstands. All in all, it seemed like a perfectly normal bedroom aside from the dated furniture, but that was to be expected.

“Probably not,” Amira said, drifting in after him. “Look, Eddie, about what happened downstairs…”

Eddie turned to face her and shook his head. “We really don’t need to talk about it.”

“Okay, but let me just say that, if you were…” she trailed off with a sigh. “Whatever you end up being, it won’t matter to me.”

“It’s not you I’m worried about, Amira.” He wandered over to the bed and ran his hand over the comforter. He wondered if time took away its softness or if the people of the ‘80s harbored a vendetta against comfort. ���It’s everyone else.”

Eddie collapsed into bed and closed his eyes, laying on his back while Amira watched mournfully. She wanted to offer him comfort, to somehow convince him that happiness existed even for those who didn’t fit into society’s neat little boxes. The words wouldn’t come to her and, even if they did, she knew how difficult he could be. If Eddie didn’t want to listen, he wouldn’t. She wracked her brain for something that might cheer him up.

“Hey Eddie,” she said as she moved to the unoccupied side of the bed. “This is where I died, my final resting place as it were. I’m willing to share it for a while if you are.”

“Nice,” he replied with a hint of a grin. “I’d like that.”

She lowered herself onto her side, propping up on her elbow. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but have you ever looked into therapy?” She peered down at him as he nodded solemnly.

“And therapy has looked into me.”

From across the room, Amira lifted a throw blanket off of the vanity’s chair-back and guided it to the bed to drape over Eddie. It felt like the closest she could get to giving him a hug, which looked exactly like what he needed as he laid next to her in silence.

“You’re gonna be okay, you know that, right?” she softly asked.

“We’ll see.”

#wickedswriting #internalized homophobia tw #// i NEEDED to get this out of my head and now i can do replies #i hope you all love amira as much as i do #walking on broken glass #homophobia tw

[chelsfic]

Five Times Nandor Tried and Failed to Make a New Vampire, and One Time He Succeeded - Guillermo x Nandor fic (one-shot)

WWDITS Masterlist

Summary: Journey into Nandor’s past and discover the real reason he’s been so hesitant to turn Guillermo all these years...

A/N: I hope you enjoy this small offering!! If you like and comment that would make me a very happy little writer creature.

Warnings: Crack, Fluff, Smut, mentions of concubines in Nandor’s human past, Blood drinking...obviously

---

“Truth be told, I’m not feeling my usual plucky, intrepid self.”

  Nandor bares his fangs in a nervous smile. He’s sitting stiffly on the chaise in his crypt, fiddling with his rings as the documentary people question him about tonight’s...big event.

  The vampire lifts his eyes to the ceiling and exhales before continuing, “It’s just--and I don’t like talking about this, but Guillermo says I need to work on expressing my...feelings--it’s just that in the past I might not always have been... entirely successful in making new vampires.”

  There’s a beat of awkward silence during which Nandor casually picks at some lint on his sleeve.

  “I mean, there was my nineteenth wife…”

  ---

  Andrakis

  Nandor languished in the empty halls of his palace for a week after his thirty-seven wives left. But at a certain point there comes a time to stop moping and start acting. Plus he’d eaten all of the servants and he was a little alarmed by the crowd of peasants outside armed with pitchforks and torches. 

  So, his new vampiric form was a little problematic. He was now homeless, wifeless and--worst of all--horseless. Driven from his land, Nandor was forced to take refuge from the lethal light of day in whatever haphazard way he could. He snuck into wine cellars. He broke into catacombs. And, most shamefully, he even buried himself in the earth when no other shelter was available. But at least his new state gave him the means to solve one of his problems. 

  There was no reason that Nandor should have to walk the night alone. He thought he remembered enough of what transpired on the battlefield to be able to turn someone else into a vampire. And as soon as the thought occurred to him he knew there was only one person with whom he wished to share this cursed gift.

  Andrakis . His favorite wife. She was sweet and young, with a magnificent ample backside that Nandor loved to squeeze and slap. She had not yet bore him any children but perhaps that was for the best. No messy loose ends for her to leave behind. He knew she would agree for she, alone among his wives, had wept sorrowfully as they rode away. 

  Nandor used his new vampiric senses to find her. It took months, but eventually he tracked her back to her family home along the Euphrates. He walked through lands scorched and ruined by his own army and he thought about the first time he laid eyes on Andrakis. As he recalled, the town was on fire and his men were pillaging the wealthy houses for gold and jewels. They were also rounding up the attractive, young citizens for...reasons. Nandor took one look at his sweet Andrakis and said, “No! That one is for me and me only!”

  So romantic.

  He could have kept her as his concubine, but Nandor was infatuated with her sweet, soft spoken ways and her delicious round thighs. He gave her jewels and furs and when he finally returned from the campaign he made her one of his wives. All Nandor’s wives loved him, of course, because if they didn’t he would have their heads chopped off. But it was different with Andrakis. She seemed to truly care. She fretted when he went into battle, insisting that she be the one to help him don his armor. She cried real tears and begged him to be safe and return to her. It really moved him. Also, again, she had a fantastic ass.

  The night he, at last, found her, Nandor floated up to her window, scratching at the wooden shutters and calling to her softly. 

  “My sweet Andrakis! It is I, your husband, Nandor the Relentless! I’ve come to assert my claim on you, cherished one! Do you...want to, maybe, come to the window now and let me inside?”

  With his heightened abilities, he could hear her soft gasp and the rustle of fabric as she pushed back her bed coverings and slowly approached the window. Nandor heard her heart racing, the thundering gush of blood flowing through her veins and her trembling breath. He opened his mouth and his eyes rolled back with pleasure as he caught the smell of her blood just on the other side of those thin planks of wood.

  “Time to open up, sweet one!” Nandor singsonged, placing his hand on the shutter as if he could reach through and grab her.

  “Is it really you, my husband?” Her voice was as soft and sweet as he remembered. 

  “It is really, really me, Andrakis!”

  She unlatched the window and Nandor beamed at the sight of her pretty, round face. That may have been a mistake--he kept forgetting about the fangs--the poor woman took a quick step back and brought her hands to her chest in shock.

  “Oh, my Nandi! What has happened to you?” her eyes widened and she took a cautious step toward the window, peeking out over the sill, “You are flying, dear one!”

  “Isn’t it great?!” Nandor laughed, kicking his legs out merrily and doing a little twirl. “I thought you might want to join me. You know...with the flying and the eternal life and the--ehm--blood drinking.”

  She started to shake her head before he even finished and Nandor’s smile faltered. He rushed back to the window sill and placed his hands there, just on the outside edge of the invisible barrier protecting the home’s occupants. 

  “Andrakis...I am so lonely. And...and there is no one to help me with my armor or give me a massage when my head hurts. I think you liked being my wife, didn’t you?”

  The woman’s eyes flood with tears and she comes even closer, leaning onto the window sill and reaching out a shaking hand to press against his bearded cheek.

  “I love you, Nandi! And I am honored to be your wife, always. I will not take another husband, but… Nandor, I am frightened!”

  “My honey,” Nandor crooned, laying his forehead against hers as she leaned out the window, “There is nothing to fear. I will protect you forever if you will stay by side.”

  ---

  “...and then I ate her.”

  Nandor held his hands out and shrugged his shoulders, “What are you going to do? These things happen, right? No! I was very upset about it for the next eighty years or so. She trusted me to take care of her and I fucking ate her!”

  Nandor stares into space for a long moment. He’s had eight centuries to get over the loss of his favorite wife so it’s not grief that shows on his pinched face. It looks more like apprehension and self-doubt. The crew asks a muffled question and he starts as if they’ve woken him from a daydream.

  “No...no I do not think I would ever recover if I were to lose control with my Guillermo,” his hands clench into fists on his knees. “I will not lose control.”

  There’s more silence and one of the crew members suggests cutting the interview when Nandor continues as if he hasn’t heard them, “Guillermo is strong. He’s a cool, vampire killer guy now. He will be alright. He...he has to be alright.”

  ---

  “Nadja?” Nandor stands at the threshold to her and Laszlo’s crypt, anxiously plucking his fingers in the air. “May I speak with you about something in private? In the fancy room?”

  Nadja is braiding her dolly’s hair. There’s something really creepy about that thing that Nandor can’t quite put his finger on. Like it’s always watching him. Yeesh . Nadja rolls her eyes and snaps, “Can’t we talk in here? I’m going to tell Laszlo whatever pig-brained scheme you’re wanting to talk about anyway…”

  Nandor glances at Laszlo, hunched over and diddling the keys of his organ with a shit-eating grin, “That’s true, old chap. There are no secrets between me and my sweet mamtam…”

  Laszlo winks smarmily and Nandor rolls his eyes, “Please, Nadja! It is just a formality!”

  She shrieks in aggravation, accidentally yanking the doll’s hair and then cooing apologetically at the thing. Nandor grimaces uncomfortably.

  “Fine, you stupid ostrich. But this better be quick!”

  Once he’s properly secured the curtain and made sure to check for eavesdroppers, Nandor lays it out for Nadja. He speaks haltingly and without meeting her eyes. 

  “So...you see, now that Guillermo and I are...are...more than master and familiar, I am wanting to make him a vampire. But you may have noticed that my past attempts in this area have been a little shaky…”

  “Shaky! I think you mean totally fucked up the rotten asshole! Don’t forget you told me all about Babsy the Brainscrambled!”

  ---

  Babaius

  Babaius was a little guy he met a couple hundred years after the whole thing with Andrakis. He was a Wallachian painter’s apprentice and he had agreed to do a gratis portrait of Nandor for the practice. The portrait was flat and middling, but what did you want? It was the 16th century and the cool Renaissance shit hadn’t exactly reached the backwoods of Eastern Europe quite yet. More important was the fact that this cute painter guy had managed to ingratiate himself with the apex predator he had unwittingly invited into his home.

  Originally, Nandor’s plan was to kill him once the portrait was complete. But the longer he sat there, staring back at the man as he worked with that cute little half-smirk on his face, the longer Nandor had to appreciate his form. Babaius was not as curvy and sensuous as Andrakis. He was taller and leaner. But his lips were pleasantly plump and his fingers long and elegant. Again, Nandor felt the weight of eternal loneliness and he began to wonder.

  This time he made sure to feed beforehand. When he arrived at the human’s rooms he found him looking more excited than Nandor had ever seen him.

  “It’s complete!” he gushed, grabbing Nandor’s hand and pulling him over to the easel. “Come see!”

  Nandor stared at the clumsy, dour-faced rendering of himself and smiled politely. Is this really what I look like? Why is my head so small?

  He felt the weight of Babaius’s hopeful eyes on him and schooled his voice into false praise, “Wow! It’s...so...wow! You sure used a lot of...orange on my face, didn’t you? Bold choice…”

  “I’m so pleased that you like it, Nandor,” the human’s voice was slightly breathless and he looked up through his lashes coquettishly. Ah ha!

  “Yes, well, now that that’s done…” Nandor swept Babaius’s long hair off his shoulder and plucked at the collar of his thin shirt. “Perhaps we could discuss other things…”

  “ Oh, yes! ” Babaius trilled, launching himself into Nandor’s arms and frantically dropping kisses on his neck, chin and jaw. “I thought ...but I wasn’t certain… but yes, Nandor! Yes!”

  Nandor wrapped his arms around the man’s back and laughed a little at just how easy this was going to be. No mistakes this time. He was completely and totally in control.

  ---

  “Alright, Najda! I get it! I know you have to give them more than just one drop of blood now, okay?”

  Nadja nods somberly, “That poor man. Could not even remember his own name after you turned him. What happened to him again?”

  “I ripped off his head,” Nandor snaps, sinking into the couch cushions in a sulk. “It was the humane thing to do.”

  Nadja squints her eyes trying to remember something, “But wasn’t there someone else after…?”

  Nandor’s lips thin into a narrow line and he crosses his arms over his chest with a huff of annoyance, “I suppose you mean Aggy the Shrieker?”

  ---

  Agnes

  Agnes was something called a Quaker, which meant that she did not go about wearing a crucifix. She was also highly susceptible to hypnosis. Nandor didn’t think this had anything to do with her Quaking, it was just a nice bonus. She’d served him well for a number of years, procuring a very fine assortment of virgins for him night after night. The good lady was entirely ignorant to the fact that it was she who drew these young innocents to their doom. Nandor erased her memories each time before sending her away. She would hem and cluck along with the other Friends when news of a disappearance reached her ears.

  After a few decades, Nandor noticed that her face was starting to turn wrinkly and her movements were not as swift as they once were. The prospect of finding another familiar with a brain as soft and accepting as Agnes’s was a wearying thought. Enough so that he considered, once again, trying his hand at creating a new vampire. 

  This time it was a sure thing. Agnes appeared at his doorstep that night, like always. At her side was a fresh-faced boy whose blood positively shouted his innocence. Delicious . Nandor would feed first. Then he would just do a quick refresher of Agnes’s hypnosis so that the poor lady did not have a fright once she saw Nandor’s blood stained face. And then a quick nip and plenty of blood. Voila! A new wrinkly-faced vampire baby is born.

  The plan was faultless.

  ---

  “And no hypnosis! Alright. Seems nit-picky, but fine!” Nandor grumbles. He seems suddenly to remember that Nadja is helping him and his voice softens, “ Please, Nadja . No more walking on memory street. Just tell me what to do so that I do not hurt Guillermo. I cannot stand the thought of him becoming a shrieker .”

  “Nandor, you beautiful giant baby,” Nadja’s face gentles into genuine sympathy. “I’m going to tell you just what to do. Even you won’t be able to mess this up.”

  And she does. She tells him how to listen to his human’s heart and count the seconds in between beats, waiting until just the right moment to finish drinking. She advises him to prepare his blood ahead of time, decanting it into a vial or mug. He should not count on Guillermo being conscious enough to suckle from his wrist as he’d originally intended. Pour the blood down his throat if he has to. Once he drinks the blood the transition will begin, but Nandor’s work is not done. He must procure for his new vampire the most succulent of virgin feasts. He must care for him during the sickness. He must watch over him and make sure that the baby vampire does not do anything silly like run out into the sunlight or drink a gallon of holy water. 

  “You must be resolved and sure in your actions!” Nadja finally says, casting a skeptical glance at the immortal warrior. “You think you can handle all that?”

  Nandor sits there looking shell shocked for a moment before twitching his mouth into a forced smile and holding up two thumbs.

  “OK-A!”

  ---

  On his way back to his crypt Nandor glances into the camera and leans in conspiratorially.

  “She does not even know about Roger the Rocker or Benjy…” he whispers, his lips folding into an embarrassed frown.

  ---

  Roger

  During the 1970s Nandor went through a brief but intense love affair with punk rock. Disco would soon supplant the vampire’s fixation on studded leather and the Sex Pistols, but for a few fleeting years he was, truly, insufferable.

  “ Fucking goats’ balls ! Nandor! We are trying to have a blood feast in here! Will you turn off that unholy screeching!?” Nadja shouted, blood dripping down her chin as she drew back from the pathetically mewling woman sandwiched between herself and her husband. 

  Laszlo reared back with a lecherous grin on his bloody lips, “Did I hear you mention something about unholy screeching, my sweet dimplebottom?”

  “ Oh, Laszlo! ” Nadja giggled, leaning over the dying victim to latch onto her lover’s mouth. 

  Nandor slammed the door to his crypt and rolled his eyes, “Don’t mind them, Roger. They’re just a couple of sell-out perverts who don’t understand ay-narchy and non-conformationism.”

  Roger was a young human man with spiked green hair and a studded leather vest. He was the coolest familiar Nandor had ever had. He was also an alcoholic and a heavy drug user and half the time he didn’t even do what Nandor asked of him. But once he explained about “the man” and toppling “the system”...well, Nandor still didn’t get it but he was impressed! He felt that Roger would bring a certain rebellious youth to their cohort that might give them a cutting edge in these modern times. 

  The problem was that Nandor had never tried drug blood before. It didn’t hit him until Roger was half-drained but then the world spun off its axis. Nandor ripped his face away from Roger’s savaged neck, stumbling backward and falling down hard on his ass. The vampire exploded into a fit of giggles as the familiar twitched limply on the floor beside him.

  “Roger! I am ball tripping!” Nandor laughed, turning his head to look at his friend, “Whoopsie! Almost forgot! Time for a little drinky, Roger…”

  Nandor tore into his own wrist, ripping a jagged wound open with his fangs and smearing the gore over Roger’s lips and chin.

  “Chug! Chug! Chug!” Nandor cackled, falling back down and letting his wrist fall limp against the human’s mouth. He started singing softly under his breath, “Ayyyynarchy and the U.S.A.! U.S.A.! U.S.A.!”

  In the end Nandor was so high he went to his slumber completely forgetting about the moaning, half-turned man on the floor of his crypt. He woke the next night to find Roger wandering around the front lawn, sun-burned and hideously deformed. He also had no memory of who Nandor was or anything at all about his human life.

  Nandor wouldn’t see him again until decades later when he caught the skeevy creep trying to take a bite out of Guillermo at the Sassy Cat Club. Nandor was so spooked to see the evidence of his past failure standing next to his most cherished human companion that he...perhaps handled the incident in a less-than-totally-gallant manner.

  ---

  Benjy

  Benjy...to be honest, Nandor isn’t entirely sure what came of the old clunker. He turned him and dumped him. Maybe not his finest moment but...Nandor had other things on his mind at the time…

  ---

  Guillermo

  The moment that Guillermo flew to their rescue at the Nouveau Théâtre des Vampires, Nandor felt something shift inside his chest. It was an actual physical sensation like a key turning in a lock. How many years had he spent building moats, walls and fortresses between himself and his handsome, caring, devoted, achingly good familiar in order to protect his sweet innocence from the poison that was Nandor the Relentless? And all along he’d been underestimating him! Nandor watched Guillermo twirl, kick, punch and stake his way through a theater full of angry vampires. In the end he stood alone on a mountain of conquered enemies, covered in blood and heaving with the adrenaline of battle. 

  Nandor had never been more aroused.

  He was silent and brooding on the drive home. He sat in the passenger seat and kept flicking his eyes in Guillermo’s direction, hoping to catch his gaze. But his ex-familiar kept his eyes fixed on the road, his face a storm cloud of some scary-looking emotion that Nandor couldn’t name. The vampire felt unease crawl up his spine. Was he planning to leave again as soon as he dropped them off at the house?

  Nandor cringed in embarrassment as he watched the look of disappointment cross Guillermo’s features at the sight of the wrecked foyer. Dead bodies littered the floor, candle wax and blood stained every surface. He was overcome with shame and humiliation that they had made such a mess of the home Guillermo had toiled to maintain for eleven years. 

  Guillermo stood awkwardly in the front doorway, not quite inside and not quite outside, hovering on the threshold of their home. It was their home , wasn’t it? Nandor’s eyes flicked to the sad, dirty mattress in the cupboard beneath the stairs and he silently cursed himself. It’s possible he may not have made this quite a happy home for Guillermo.

  “I’ll just...go now…” Guillermo’s voice was soft and uncertain again, as if he hadn’t just committed a bad ass massacre.

  “No!” the word strangled from Nandor’s throat and he lurched forward, raising his hand to stop the human. For a split second he was completely unguarded and the raw desperation in his voice and on his face froze Guillermo in his tracks. Then Nandor’s eyes shifted to his fellow vampires, feeling the weight of their stares and he continued in a closer approximation to his usual haughty authority, “I would speak with you a moment. In private.”

  Once the door to his crypt clicked shut Nandor rounded on Guillermo, taking him by the shoulders and pressing him into the heavy wooden door. He loomed over the human for a moment, fangs bared, breathing raggedly as he scented him. Guillermo’s intoxicating, virginal aroma was mixed with the tang of his enemies’ blood. The irresistible fragrance threatened to overcome the vampire and he let out a pitiful mewling cry as he pressed even closer. Nandor’s forehead thunked against the door and his body was flush with Guillermo’s. Now he would know . The hard, bulging evidence of Nandor’s arousal was pressed into the human’s soft thigh-- unmistakable . Nandor keened a sob and his body went boneless as he fell to his knees in supplication before the human.

  “Guillermo, please!” Nandor sobbed.

  Guillermo stood as if paralyzed, staring back at his former master with shocked, wide eyes. Nandor felt broken, like one of those colorful donkeys split open and pouring out his guts. He did not exactly know what it was he wanted. Everything about this moment was highly uncomfortable. For one thing, the floor was very hard and hurty on his knees. For another thing, his erection was straining painfully in his pants. Also, he was realizing for the first time in his long, long life that there existed a person whom Nandor loved more than himself. And he was desperately, mortally afraid that Guillermo would leave him again.

  “What is it, master?” Guillermo flinched at the slip up but he pressed on, his eyes burning with earnest intensity. “What do you want?”

  Nandor had known the answer to this question for eleven years. He knew it the first time he laid eyes on the sweet, plump mortal working the panini press at Panera Bread. He knew it the first time Guillermo graced him with his smile after Nandor showed him his fangs. He knew it when Guillermo came to live with them, hauling his rolly luggage case up the front steps and shaking with nerves and excitement. He knew it when he spent hours crafting his familiar’s sweet face from glitter. He knew it when Guillermo cried, silently begging Nandor to give him a reason to stay. He’d known it in a thousand different ways for a thousand different reasons and he’d keep knowing it for a thousand years, long after the flicker of Guillermo’s short human life extinguished.

  “You,” Nandor’s voice was a broken whisper. “I want you, Guillermo.”

  The air expelled from Guillermo’s lungs in a shaky gasp as he fell to his knees as well. He took the vampire’s face in his warm little hands and Nandor had to remind himself that those were hands capable of plunging a wooden stake through his heart. The very thought sent another wave of lust through him. 

  Guillermo’s lips trembled and his eyes flooded with tears as he spoke, “If you’re just saying that to manipulate me…”

  Nandor grabbed Guillermo’s wrists, circling them with his long fingers, keeping him from removing his hands from Nandor’s face. 

  “No, Guillermo. I--I have not been a good master to you…” Nandor gulped, fighting years of careful control in order to get the words out. “I’ve lied to you many, many times. Made you think that you were just a servant to me. I thought that I was protecting us both. But...really I was hurting you. When you left me I...I…”

  Nandor’s voice trailed off and Guillermo allowed it, not wanting to push his fragile vampire too far. 

  “If we’re going to do this, I need to know. I need to know what exactly you want from me, Nandor. Because I know what I want. I’ve known for eleven... fucking years,” Guillermo’s voice hardens toward the end and Nandor feels himself go weak. His little Guillermo...so forceful and strong!

  Suddenly the human was leaning in and brushing his lips over Nandor’s. It was the barest, gentlest hint of a kiss but it felt like a live wire touching his skin. Nandor’s eyes drifted closed and he saw stars as Guillermo pushed his tongue between his lips and plundered his mouth. Oh, why had he forced them to wait so long for this?

  Guillermo pulled back, the combination of his blushing cheeks and the splatter of blood along his jaw was a powerful image. Nandor whined, following Guillermo’s movement and pecking kisses to the man’s mouth.

  “Nandor, wait! Stop!” There was mirth in Guillermo’s eyes but a fragile uncertainty as well. “I need you to tell me this is what you want. That I’m not going to wake up tomorrow and find you pretending this never happened. Things have to change if we’re...if we’re going to do this.”

  Nandor nodded frantically, pawing at his human’s face as unmanly tears spilled from his eyes and rolled into the whiskers of his beard. 

  “Yes! Please! I want this. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. You’re brave and strong and cool and beautiful and I lo--” Nandor’s mouth snapped shut and his dark eyes widened in fear at the words that almost slipped out. But when he took in his human’s guarded yet hopeful expression he growled and forced them out. “I love you, Guillermo.”

  Guillermo choked on a sob and his face crumbled rather alarmingly. 

  “I love you so fucking much you stupid asshole,” he replied.

  Nandor scowled, “Hey! There’s no need for all that!”

  But before he could work himself up to being truly affronted, Guillermo launched himself at him, knocking Nandor over backwards and attacking his face with his mouth. 

  “Things are going to change,” Guillermo repeated between open-mouthed kisses along Nandor’s bearded jaw.

  “Yes!”

  “I’m not gonna dig graves for you anymore or polish your boots!”

  “...Alright.”

  “And,” Guillermo ripped open the fly of Nandor’s trousers, eliciting a delighted howl from the vampire, “you’re going to make me a vampire.”

  ---

  “So tonight is the night!” Nandor injects false levity into his voice as he strides down the hallway carrying a stack of towels on one arm. The camera shakes as the crew follows behind him. 

  “I’ve made all of the arrangements! We have a juicy virgin in the cell…”

  The camera peaks into a dimly lit closet where a young man is bound and gagged. Across his forehead giant block letters spell out: “DO NOT EAT! GUILLERMO’S VIRGIN FEAST!”

  “I’ve decanted plenty of my blood…”

  Nandor holds up a mason jar filled with thick, dark crimson liquid as he mounts the stairs.

  “I’ve got the towels and Guillermo has a first aid box ready…”

  He finally arrives at the door to the big, blue bedroom and turns around to face the camera with an apologetic smile.

  “ Vampires only! ” He slams the door in their faces.

  Once the door closes behind him Nandor lets out a long breath and his head falls back to hit the wood with a loud thunk. He lets the facade drop for just a second and the cloying anxiety and terror of what he is about to do rises to the surface. Then Guillermo looks up at him from where he’s sitting up on his big new bed and Nandor forces a cheery smile. 

  “Who’s ready for their unholy transformation?!” he warbles, shaking the jar of blood in his hand. 

  Guillermo grins, coming over to stand before him in all his warm, soft, human grandeur. Nandor drops his head and plucks at the sleeve of his ex-familiar’s thick, stripy sweater. He hopes that Guillermo will not think himself too cool to wear such garments once he is a vampire. He’s grown to love Guillermo’s simple human clothes.

  “Nandor…” Guillermo takes the jar and the towels from him, setting them down on his bureau next to the collection of wooden stakes and crucifixes. “You don’t have to pretend. I’m scared too.”

  The vampire lets out a breath and tugs his human into his chest, wrapping him in a fierce, suffocating hug. He lets his cheek rest on top of Guillermo’s dear head. Guillermo clings to the front of Nandor’s long tunic, pressing his face into the rich, embroidered fabric and wetting it with his tears. 

  “It’ll be okay,” Guillermo comforts Nandor, his voice trembling with emotion. In the short weeks since the incident at the theater and since their relationship took such a sharp turn in the right direction, Guillermo has been shocked and pleasantly surprised to find how dramatically the dynamic between them has changed. Guillermo isn’t just Nandor’s equal now. He’s his touchstone, his protector, and his deeply cherished lover. 

  “You don’t know that, Guillermo,” Nandor sniffles. “What if I brainscramble you like I did to Ba...Baba...Bambie?”

  “Babaius?” Guillermo prompts, pulling back from the embrace enough to lock eyes with the weepy vampire. Nandor has told him his whole sorry history of failures and abominations. It was Guillermo’s idea for Nandor to seek out Nadja’s guidance. And though he’s nervous and frightened about his transition...there is no one else in the world from whom Guillermo would accept this gift. “You won’t scramble my brains, Nandor. I trust you.”

  The soft cry that Nandor makes at those words cuts to Guillermo’s soul. 

  Nandor sniffs and attempts to pull himself back together. He speaks confidently, as if his words are an incantation that will somehow conjure success, “Well, of course you trust me, Guillermo. I’m a very strong, cool vampire. There’s no reason I shouldn’t be able to make another vampire when a freaky pervert like Nadja is doing it all over the place.”

  Guillermo snorts and pulls Nandor in for another quick squeeze before drawing away toward the bed, “Should we…?”

  “Yes...oh! Wait!” Nandor grabs the towels off the bureau, hissing when he accidentally grazes a crucifix with his hand. He hurries forward and starts laying them down on top of Guillermo’s thick comforter. “I don’t want your nice, new bed to get ruined.”

  Guillermo smiles warmly as he watches his ex-master’s efforts. 

  “Well...it’s not like I’ll be sleeping on it anymore after tonight…” he murmurs, causing Nandor to think about the shiny new coffin sitting next to his downstairs. 

  Nandor shrugs, “No...but we might--you know--do other things on the bed still…”

  He smooths his hands over the towels and retrieves the jaw of blood, placing it within easy reach on the nightstand before climbing onto the bed and stretching out in an unintentional come-hither pose. Nandor’s soft, long locks fall over his shoulders and his big, dark eyes look up at Guillermo with longing and terror. He pats the spot beside him on the bed.

  Guillermo clambors up after him, stretching out at his side and letting his head fall into the mountain of pillows that Nandor had insisted on purchasing for him after their...reconciliation. He smiles shyly and looks up at the vampire, his cheeks turning bright red.

  “Is it alright if we...do some of those ‘ other things ’ first?” he asks, dancing his fingers over Nandor’s tunic. “You know...my last time as a h-human?”

  The stutter in Guillermo’s voice interrupts Nandor’s contented perusal of his human’s delicious body and he meets the man’s eyes. Guillermo’s cheeks are irresistibly red and his lips are parted slightly with lust. But his eyebrows are all crinkled and there are still some tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. Nandor can’t really relate to Guillermo’s fear. When he was turned he was in the middle of dying on the field of battle. He didn’t have a clue what was happening when the strange vampire descended upon him. What would it feel like to go into it knowingly? To place his life in the hands of the one that he loved knowing there was a chance that things might go terribly wrong?

  Guillermo is incredibly brave.

  “Yes, my Guillermo,” Nandor cries, leaning in and pressing their mouths together in a desperate kiss. “Anything you want.”

  They take their time with the kiss, lips and tongues sliding and probing as they clumsily undress each other. By the time they’re both naked the floor of Guillermo’s bedroom is littered with discarded items of clothing and the towels on the bed are askew. Guillermo throws his leg over Nandor’s thick waist and straddles the man, their aching erections rubbing together as he leans down to trail kisses across Nandor’s hairy chest. 

  Nandor throws his head back in the pillows, his hair tangling as he writhes underneath Guillermo. He will miss the feeling of his human’s impossible warmth. The way his kisses seem to sear a blazing path over Nandor’s cold skin. The way his silky smooth rod pulses with molten heat. The feeling of plunging inside Guillermo’s fiery, grasping tightness. Nandor curses himself, yet again, for not allowing them both to have this sooner. 

  Guillermo’s hips rise and fall as he strokes himself against Nandor. The air between them grows humid with their breath and the room fills with the sounds of whimpers and moans. Guillermo places a hand on Nandor’s chest for balance and he leans over to his nightstand to grab the small bottle of lube sitting there. 

  He holds it aloft and says, as if reading Nandor’s mind, “Do you want to feel me one last time before…?”

  Nandor’s lips split into a grin and he grabs the tube from his human’s hand, nodding fervently as he drips the liquid onto his fingers. He’s careful and gentle with his Guillermo, mindful of how new this still is for him. He reaches between his delicious thighs and slides his wet fingers around until he finds what he’s looking for, pressing gently and then more firmly as Guillermo opens up for him. 

  Guillermo’s breath escapes him and he presses down on Nandor’s fingers with a wanton cry, riding him needily. Once he’s ready, Nandor pours out more liquid, slicking his cock and grasping Guillermo’s hips to move him into position. 

  “Are you ready, Guillermo?” he asks and the words take on an added meaning with the knowledge of what’s to come hovering in the air between them. 

  Guillermo senses Nandor’s seriousness in the moment and he meets his eyes, smiling softly before replying, “Yes, Nandor. I’m ready. Really .”

  The sex is a revelation and a comfort. Falling into Guillermo is like coming home. It’s like finally finding the place he was always meant to be. Even 700 years ago when Nandor was a ruler in his prime, he never felt this level of peace and belonging. He watches his beautiful, strong, brave human fall apart on top of him. They take turns setting the pace. Guillermo bounces frantically in Nandor’s lap until the vampire grabs his hips and holds him still so he can thrust upward, slowly and tenderly. He penetrates deep until Guillermo is near tears and the human’s poor erection is leaking copiously onto Nandor’s soft belly.

  Nandor finally releases his hold on Guillermo’s hips and wraps his hand around his erection, pumping up and down quickly as he bounces the man on his own cock. 

  “I’m close, Guillermo,” he whispers, stroking the human rapidly to edge him along. “Come with me. Please!”

  They fall over the precipice together, panting and clinging as their bodies quake with the intensity of their love making. Guillermo collapses on Nandor’s chest and the vampire wraps his arms around him automatically, soothingly running his palms down his lover’s sweaty back as he twitches and catches his breath. 

  “You’re getting very good at that, Guillermo,” Nandor murmurs with a hint of teasing in his voice.

  Guillermo snorts, “Yeah, I think you’ve almost got the hang of it, too, Nandor.”

  Nandor laughs and smacks his behind playfully, “Do not be thinking that just because you’re going to be a vampire you can start being so cheeky with me! I’m still seven hundred and twenty-eight years older than you, mortal.”

  Guillermo grins and hums in response, pillowing his head into Nandor’s broad chest with a contented sigh. 

  After a little while, Nandor shifts Guillermo off of him and lays him down on the bed with a gentle reverence. He picks up one of the towels and uses it to carefully clean him, dabbing between his legs and swiping over his soft stomach. Nandor takes his time, his face turning dark and serious as he contemplates what comes next. 

  When he’s finally finished he says, almost shyly, “There’s just one more thing I want to do first…”

  Nandor stretches out at Guillermo’s side and rests his head over the human’s chest, directly over his beating heart. His hair fans out over Guillermo’s flushed skin and the human brings his fingers up to toy with it as Nandor listens. 

  Thump...thump...thump…

  How many nights has Nandor awoken in his coffin, still gripped by the horror of a half-remembered nightmare and listened for that comforting sound to lull him back to sleep? How often has he heard that steady rhythm interrupted when Nandor did something that particularly stirred his familiar’s illicit attraction? How many thousands of beats has he taken for granted over the years? Soon that steady tattoo will cease forever. Nandor feels panic grip him but he reminds himself that things will be different this time. Guillermo will come back to him as he always does. 

  He does not feel ready but the hours are ticking away and he’d like to finish this well before dawn. Nandor shuffles up the bed, leaning on an elbow and letting his hair cascade down around Guillermo’s face. He brushes his thumb over his lips, caresses his jaw line and the ridge of his brow. He’s memorizing the way his beloved looks right now, flushed with life. 

  “Guillermo, I want you to know that even if I do scramble your brains--which I won’t!--but even if I do, I will take care of you forever,” Nandor says, his eyes wide and earnest. “I’ll never abandon you or rip off your head. That’s a promise.”

  Guillermo should scoff or snort or roll his eyes but instead he sobs and beams up at Nandor as he answers, “I know, baby. I’ll never leave you or rip off your head either. I promise.”

  Nandor nods and his dark eyes shift to focus on the crook of Guillermo’s neck. His skin is still slicked with the cooling sweat of their coupling and Nandor can see his pulse jumping in his throat. He opens his mouth in a hungry leer and his fangs elongate slightly.

  “This will hurt, Guillermo,” his voice is dark and menacing, but also mournful. “I am sorry.”

  He snakes a hand behind Guillermo’s neck and cradles his head to the side as he lowers his mouth to his vulnerable throat. He hovers there for a moment and marvels at the way his lover’s body surrenders so sweetly to him. Guillermo is soft and loose in his arms, the perfect victim. Nandor banishes that word from his mind. Guillermo, sweet, sensitive, competent, strong, scary, loving, powerful Guillermo. He is not a victim. He plunges his fangs into his human’s soft neck and takes from him the sweetest gift Guillermo has ever given. 

  Nandor’s terror and anxiety melt away as the blood pours over his tongue and down his throat. He has always known that Guillermo would taste delicious but this is ridiculous. He tastes like the joy of riding John over an open plain, he tastes like the excitement of watching the Dream Team do battle on the basketball court, and, most of all, he tastes like Guillermo. Like fuzzy knit hats and secret smiles and quiet evenings playing chess. Like longing and hunger and wistful pain. Like strength and desire and the thrill of conquest. Nandor drinks deeply, memorizing the flavor as his lover goes more and more limp in his arms. 

  He listens, once more, to the beating of that heart, just as Nadja said to do. He waits like Guillermo used to do, listening to the pops while he was making his corn kernel snack in the multiwave machine. Once the rhythm begins to slow Nandor pulls back, licking his lips and scrambling for the jar of blood on the nightstand. 

  He gathers Guillermo into his arms and the human moans low in his throat. Nandor feels unadulterated joy at the sound. He is still here . But when he looks down at his human’s pale, ashen face, a sob tears free from his throat. His lustrous, brilliant Guillermo diminished to such a drab reflection… Nandor mentally slaps himself and unscrews the jar, bringing it to Guillermo’s pale lips. 

  “Time for your snack now, Guillermo,” Nandor’s voice shakes. He strokes his fingers through the human’s curly hair as he lifts his head and begins to tip the contents of the jar into his open mouth. 

  Nothing happens for a small eternity. Nandor watches the blood pool in his lover’s mouth and spill out the sides of his lips with a feeling of increasing helplessness. 

  “Guillermo? Can you still hear me? It’s time to start drinking so you can become a cool vampire just like me and your friend, Armand…”

  Guillermo’s eyes are closed and his body is unnaturally still.

  “Please drink, Guillermo! I’m going to be very cross with you if you do not!”

  His skin looks waxy and he feels heavier in Nandor’s arms. The vampire tugs him further into his lap and clutches him to his chest, tears falling onto the eerily calm face.

  “Guillermo, you said you wouldn’t leave me again, please! ”

  Guillermo swallows. Nandor watches with a giant, goofy grin on his face as the man’s throat bobs and the blood disappears from his mouth. He brings the jar back up to his lips and continues to hand feed him, taking comfort in the way Guillermo’s lips purse as he drinks down the vampire’s life-giving blood. 

  “That’s it, my cherished one,” Nandor says, slipping into endearments he used several lifetimes ago. “Drink, sweet honey. And don’t ever fucking scare me like that again !”

  Guillermo snorts as he drains the dredges from the jar, blood bubbles forming on his lips as they curve into a smile. Nandor watches, his eyes wide and wondering, as Guillermo’s eyes flutter open and he feels a sense of intense relief when he recognizes that smile as the same one he fell in love with eleven years ago. Only...you know...with the fangs and the blood stains…

---

  “So, I’d say it was a marked success!” Nandor shouts into the camera a few nights later. “Of course, there was a lot of vomiting and achy-pains in the beginning...but once that passed and he drank some human blood everything was OK-A! Isn’t that right, Guillermo?”

  The camera zooms out to include Guillermo in the shot. He’s sitting next to Nandor on the chaise, their hands clasped together between them. His skin tone is very much the same although without the lively blush that used to grace his cheeks. He’s noticeably in tact, no pointed ears or deformities and seemingly in full possession of his brains. 

  He smiles and the camera zooms in on his newly minted fangs.

  “ A-OK , Nandor,” he corrects in an affectionate tone. He leans over and kisses the immortal warrior on the cheek.

  Nandor, still unused to public displays of affection, smiles nervously and answers with a roll of his eyes, “As I said, Guillermo!”

#nandor x guillermo #guillermo x nandor #nandermo #nandor x guillermo fanfic #wwdits #wwdits fanfic #smut

[nicklloydnow]

Moloch of Totalitarianism (Levashovo Memorial Cemetery, Saint Petersburg, Russia)

“'As you lie there,' said O'Brien, 'you have often wondered you have even asked me -- why the Ministry of Love should expend so much time and trouble on you.  And when you were free you were puzzled by what was essentially the same question.  You could grasp the mechanics of the Society you lived in, but not its underlying motives.  Do you remember writing in your diary, "I understand how: I do not understand why"?  It was when you thought about "why" that you doubted your own sanity.  You have read the book, Goldstein's book, or parts of it, at least.  Did it tell you anything that you did not know already?' 'You have read it?' said Winston. 'I wrote it. That is to say, I collaborated in writing it.  No book is produced individually, as you know.' 'Is it true, what it says?' 'A description, yes.  The programme it sets forth is nonsense.  The secret accumulation of knowledge -- a gradual spread of enlightenment -- ultimately a proletarian rebellion -- the overthrow of the Party.  You foresaw yourself that that was what it would say. It is all nonsense.  The proletarians will never revolt, not in a thousand years or a million.  They cannot.  I do not have to tell you the reason: you know it already.  If you have ever cherished any dreams of violent insurrection, you must abandon them.  There is no way in which the Party can be overthrown.  The rule of the Party is forever.  Make that the starting-point of your thoughts.' He came closer to the bed.  'Forever!' he repeated.  'And now let us get back to the question of "how" and "why".  You understand well enough how the Party maintains itself in power.  Now tell me why we cling to power. What is our motive?  Why should we want power?  Go on, speak,' he added as Winston remained silent. Nevertheless Winston did not speak for another moment or two.  A feeling of weariness had overwhelmed him.  The faint, mad gleam of enthusiasm had come back into O'Brien's face.  He knew in advance what O'Brien would say: that the Party did not seek power for its own ends, but only for the good of the majority.  That it sought power because men in the mass were frail cowardly creatures who could not endure liberty or face the truth, and must be ruled over and systematically deceived by others who were stronger than themselves.  That the choice for mankind lay between freedom and happiness, and that, for the great bulk of mankind, happiness was better.  That the party was the eternal guardian of the weak, a dedicated sect doing evil that good might come, sacrificing its own happiness to that of others.  The terrible thing, thought Winston, the terrible thing was that when O'Brien said this he would believe it.  You could see it in his face.  O'Brien knew everything.  A thousand times better than Winston he knew what the world was really like, in what degradation the mass of human beings lived and by what lies and barbarities the Party kept them there.  He had understood it all, weighed it all, and it made no difference: all was justified by the ultimate purpose.  What can you do, thought Winston, against the lunatic who is more intelligent than yourself, who gives your arguments a fair hearing and then simply persists in his lunacy?

'You are ruling over us for our own good,' he said feebly.  'You believe that human beings are not fit to govern themselves, and therefore-'

He started and almost cried out.  A pang of pain had shot through his body. O'Brien had pushed the lever of the dial up to thirty-five.

'That was stupid, Winston, stupid!' he said. 

'You should know better than to say a thing like that.

’He pulled the lever back and continued:

'Now I will tell you the answer to my question.  It is this.  The Party seeks power entirely for its own sake.  We are not interested in the good of others; we are interested solely in power.  Not wealth or luxury or long life or happiness: only power, pure power. What pure power means you will understand presently.  We are different from all the oligarchies of the past, in that we know what we are doing.  All the others, even those who resembled ourselves, were cowards and hypocrites.  The German Nazis and the Russian Communists came very close to us in their methods, but they never had the courage to recognize their own motives.  They pretended, perhaps they even believed, that they had seized power unwillingly and for a limited time, and that just round the corner there lay a paradise where human beings would be free and equal.  We are not like that. We know that no one ever seizes power with the intention of relinquishing it.  Power is not a means, it is an end.  One does not establish a dictatorship in order to safeguard a revolution; one makes the revolution in order to establish the dictatorship.  The object of persecution is persecution.  The object of torture is torture.  The object of power is power.  Now do you begin to understand me?'���

Winston was struck, as he had been struck before, by the tiredness of O'Brien's face. It was strong and fleshy and brutal, it was full of intelligence and a sort of controlled passion before which he felt himself helpless; but it was tired. There were pouches under the eyes, the skin sagged from the cheekbones. O'Brien leaned over him, deliberately bringing the worn face nearer.

"You are thinking," he said, "that my face is old and tired. You are thinking that I talk of power, and yet I am not even able to prevent the decay of my own body. Can you not understand, Winston, that the individual is only a cell? The weariness of the cell is the vigor of the organism. Do you die when you cut your finger-nails?"

He turned away from the bed and began strolling up and down again, one hand in his pocket.

"We are the priests of power," he said. "God is power. But at present power is only a word so far as you are concerned. It is time for you to gather some idea of what power means. The first thing you must realize is that power is collective. The individual only has power in so far as he ceases to be an individual. You know the Party slogan 'Freedom is Slavery." Has it ever occurred to you that it is reversible? Slavery is freedom. Alone-free-the human being is always defeated. It must be so, because every human being is doomed to die, which is the greatest of all failures. But if he can make complete, utter submission, if he can escape from his identity, if he can merge himself in the Party so that he is the Party, then he is all-powerful and immortal. The second thing for you to realize is that power is power over human beings. Over the body-but, above all, over the mind. Power over matter external reality, as you would call it-is not important. Already our control over matter is absolute."'

For a moment Winston ignored the dial. He made a violent effort to raise himself into a sitting position, and merely succeeded in wrenching his body painfully.

"But how can you control matter?" he burst out. "You don't even control the climate or the law of gravity. And there are disease, pain, death-"

O'Brien silenced him by a movement of the hand. "We control matter because we control the mind. Reality is inside the skull. You will learn-by degrees, Winston. There is nothing that we could not do. Invisibility, levitation-anything. I could float off this floor like a soap bubble if I wished to. I do not wish to, because the Party does not wish it. You must get rid of those nineteenth century ideas about the laws of nature. We make the laws of nature."

"But you do not! You are not even masters of this planet. What about Eurasia and Eastasia? You have not conquered them yet."

"Unimportant. We shall conquer them when it suits us. And if we did not, what difference would it make? We can shut them out of existence. Oceania is the world."

"But the world itself is only a speck of dust. And man is tiny- helpless! How long has he been in existence? For millions of years the earth was uninhabited."

"Nonsense. The earth is as old as we are, no older. How-could it be older? Nothing exists except through human consciousness."

"But the rocks are full of the bones of extinct animals-mammoths and mastodons and enormous reptiles which lived here long before man was ever heard of."

"Have you ever seen those bones, Winston? Of course not. Nineteenth-century biologists invented them. Before man there was nothing. After man, if he could come to an end, there would be nothing. Outside man there is nothing."

"But the whole universe is outside us. Look at the stars! Some of them are a million light-years away. They are out of our reach forever."

"What are the stars?" said O'Brien indifferently. "They are bits of fire a few kilometers away. We could reach them if we wanted to. Or we could blot them out. The earth is the center of the universe. The sun and the stars go round it.

"Winston made another convulsive movement. This time he did not say anything. O'Brien continued as though answering a spoken objection:

"For certain purposes, of course, that is not true. When we navigate the ocean, or when we predict an eclipse, we often find it convenient to assume that the earth goes round the sun and that the stars are millions upon millions of kilometers away. But what of it? Do you suppose it is beyond us to produce a dual system of astronomy? The stars can be near or distant, according as we need them. Do you suppose our mathematicians are unequal to that? Have you forgotten doublethink?"

Winston shrank back upon the bed. Whatever he said, the swift answer crushed him like a bludgeon. And yet he knew, he knew, that he was in the right. The belief that nothing exists outside your own mind-surely there must be some way of demonstrating that it was false. Had it not been exposed long ago as a fallacy? There was even a name for it, which he had forgotten. A faint smile twitched the corners of O'Brien's mouth as he looked down at him.

"I told you, Winston," he said, "that metaphysics is not your strong point. The word you are trying to think of is solipsism. But you are mistaken. This is not solipsism. Collective solipsism, if you like. But that is a different thing; in fact, the opposite thing. All this is a digression,"' he added in a different tone. "The real power, the power we have to fight for night and day, is not power over things, but over men." He paused, and for a moment assumed again his air of a schoolmaster questioning a promising pupil: "How does one man assert his power over another, Winston?"

Winston thought. "By making him suffer," he said.

"Exactly. By making him suffer. Obedience is not enough. Unless he is suffering, how can you be sure that he is obeying your will and not his own? Power is in inflicting pain and humiliation. Power is in tearing human minds to pieces and putting them together again in new shapes of your own choosing. Do you begin to see, then, what kind of world we are creating? It is the exact opposite of the stupid hedonistic Utopias that the old reformers imagined. A world of fear and treachery and torment, a world of trampling and being trampled upon, a world which will grow not less but more merciless as it refines itself. Progress in our world will be progress toward more pain. The old civilizations claimed that they were founded on love and justice. Ours is founded upon hatred. In our world there will be no emotions except fear, rage, triumph, and self-abasement. Everything else we shall destroy- everything. Already we are breaking down the habits of thought which have survived from before the Revolution. We have cut the links between child and parent, and between man and man, and between man and woman. No one dares trust a wife or a child or a friend any longer. But in the future there will be no wives and no friends. Children will be taken from their mothers at birth, as one takes eggs from a hen. The sex instinct will be eradicated. Procreation will be an annual formality like the renewal of a ration card. We shall abolish the orgasm. Our neurologists are at work upon it now. There will be no loyalty, except loyalty toward the Party. There will be no love, except the love of Big Brother. There will be no laughter, except the laugh of triumph over a defeated enemy. There will be no art, no literature, no science. When we are omnipotent we shall have no more need of science. There will be no distinction between beauty and ugliness. There will be no curiosity, no enjoyment of the process of life. All competing pleasures will be destroyed. But always-do not forget this, Winston-always there will be the intoxication of power, constantly increasing and constantly growing subtler. Always, at every moment, there will be the thrill of victory, the sensation of trampling on an enemy who is helpless. If you want a picture of the future, imagine a boot stamping on a human face-forever."

He paused as though he expected Winston to speak. Winston had tried to shrink back into the surface of the bed again. He could not say anything. His heart seemed to be frozen. O'Brien went on:

"And remember that it is forever. The face will always be there to be stamped upon. The heretic, the enemy of society, will always be there, so that he can be defeated and humiliated over again. Everything that you have undergone since you have been in our hands-all that will continue, and worse. The espionage, the betrayals, the arrests, the tortures, the executions, the disappearances will never cease. It will be a world of terror as much as a world of triumph. The more the Party is powerful, the less it will be tolerant; the weaker the opposition, the tighter the despotism. Goldstein and his heresies will live forever. Every day, at every moment, they will be defeated, discredited, ridiculed, spat upon- and yet they will always survive. This drama that I have played out with you during seven years will be played out over and over again, generation after generation, always in subtler forms. Always we shall have the heretic here at our mercy, screaming with pain, broken-up, contemptible-and in the end utterly penitent, saved from himself, crawling to our feet of his own accord. That is the world that we are preparing, Winston. A world of victory after victory, triumph after triumph after triumph: an endless pressing, pressing, pressing upon the nerve of power. You are beginning, I can see, to realize what that world will be like. But in the end you will do more than understand it. You will accept it, welcome it, become part of it."

Winston had recovered himself sufficiently to speak. "You can't!" he said weakly.

"What do you mean by that remark, Winston?"

"You could not create such a world as you have just described. It is a dream. It is impossible."

"Why?"

"It is impossible to found a civilization on fear and hatred and cruelty. It would never endure."

"Why not?"

"It would have no vitality. It would disintegrate. It would commit suicide."

"Nonsense. You are under the impression that hatred is more exhausting than love. Why should it be? And if it were, what difference would that make? Suppose that we choose to wear ourselves out faster. Suppose that we quicken the tempo of human life till men are senile at thirty. Still what difference would it make? Can you not understand that the death of the individual is not death? The Party is immortal."

As usual, the voice had battered Winston into helplessness. Moreover he was in dread that if he persisted in his disagreement O'Brien would twist the dial again. And yet he could not keep silent. Feebly, without arguments, with nothing to support him except his inarticulate horror of what O'Brien had said, he returned to the attack.

"I don't know-I don't care. Somehow you will fail. Something will defeat you. Life will defeat you."

"We control life, Winston, at all its levels. You are imagining that there is something called human nature which will be outraged by what we do and will turn against us. But we create human nature. Men are infinitely malleable. Or perhaps you have returned to your old idea that the proletarians or the slaves will arise and overthrow us. Put it out of your mind. They are helpless, like the animals. Humanity is the Party. The others are outside- irrelevant."'

"I don't care. In the end they will beat you. Sooner or later they will see you for what you are, and then they will tear you to pieces."

"Do you see any evidence that this is happening? Or any reason why it should?"

"No. I believe it. I know that you will fail. There is something in the universe-I don't know, some spirit, some principle-that you will never overcome."

"Do you believe in God, Winston?" "No." "Then what is it, this principle that will defeat us?" "I don't know. The spirit of Man." "And do you consider yourself a man?"

"Yes."

"If you are a man, Winston, you are the last man. Your kind is extinct; we are the inheritors. Do you understand that you are alone? You are outside history, you are nonexistent."”

#orwell #George Orwell #1984 #power #party #moloch #totalitarianism #fascisim #nazism #communism

[charmingmarchioness]

Cherishing the LOVE

The land of Leidenscaftlic is always the liveliest and the busiest among the continent. Joyful chatterings and laughters filled the slightly dim sky and crowds are gathering from store to store. It wasn't an unusual sight to see but among those crowds who were patiently waiting for the intercontinental train to arrive lies a man named Gilbert Bougainvillea.

From the way he looks, it seems like he just got free from doing bunch of works in the military headquarters. He was actually the one who dazzlingly stood out the most, not because of the fact that it was a rare sight to see a busy man like him go out in such an early hour, but because of what he is currently holding. It was a bouquet of Violet flowers. The crowds easily understood that he was there to wait for his beloved sweetheart.

After minutes of waiting, the train have finally arrived. A woman with a hypnotizing angelic beauty came out from it. It was Violet Evergarden, a well renowned celebrity in the auto memories doll service. She searched the whole place until she spotted who she was looking for. Blue orbs and emerald are locked to each other once again. Out of excitement and longing, Violet and Gilbert ran to each other's arm and hugged deeply, obviously not caring for the people who were staring at them.

Once they were satisfied feeling each other's warmth, they broke away the hug. A lovely blushing smile crept to Violet's face when Gilbert kissed her gloved prosthetic hand once again. The reaction that she showed him now is a pleased one. It was different from the time where she shed tears out of happiness. Gilbert also treasured that day, because that was the day where Violet finally understood and accepted his love for her.

Gilbert adored the figure of his lover. Just uttering the word 'Lover' makes his heart burst in so much love for her. Finally. It wasn't a one sided love anymore. The two was finally able to have a strong and deep connection called 'Love'.

"I miss you, Major. Do you...miss me too?" Violet uttered shyly and it made Gilbert chuckled a little because of her cute remark.

"Always, Violet. I miss you terribly."

He clutched her fingers with his as he honestly stared into her eyes. Gilbert affectionately offered her the bouquet of flowers that he almost forgot to give. He merely rejoiced when she gladly accepted it.

"Welcome back, my love."

A boisterous red haired man named Hodgins was currently scouting an entire town to find a good place to eat along with Lux, Cattleya, and Benedict.

Today is a wondrous day to be free from the tiresome reality of being a working adult. A beautiful festivity was currently being held at a certain part of Leiden and it was to commemorate the unwavering bravery of those people who fought their love against the odds. There was once a tell tale story that illustrated the forbidden love between a lost human and a fallen goddess. In short, it was a festivity of a bond called LOVE.

"Old man! Just where the hell are you taking us? We've been walking for hours already!" Benedict shouted as he was unable to calm his irritated self  anymore.

"I agree. If this is a silly prank or just a revenge for not siding with your wrongdoings, then, I suggest that you stop being involved in a scandal." Lux retorted tiredly.

"President~ Let's go there! There! And there! Whoa, there too! Come on~" Cattleya said while tugging his shirt with brutal force.

"Wait Cattleya! Ack- Don't pull too hard! And ya' rude boy! Just be patient. We are almost there. Ah, little lux, don't give me such a scary expression, your cute features is getting uglier."

"YOU STUPID OLD M--mmm!!!" Hodgins immediately covered Benedict's mouth when he spotted an unexpected figure that is a little far away from them. As he keeps on struggling, Hodgins let out a sigh and uttered a "Sshhh", pointed his finger at two people who is blissfully dancing among the other lively pairs.

"Is that Violet? I thought she'll be returning tomorrow? Hmm...and the man beside her is-"

"Kyaa~ are they having a date? Oh, how romantic!~" clutching her chest dreamily.

"---a hell! Why's there another old man! I must save Vi! V--mmm" Hodgins covered his mouth once again and forcefully dragged him along the way.

"Alright! There's our destination! You can all choose the food ya all wanna eat. It's my treat!" Hodgins declared with glee as he was now extremely happy because of what he witnessed.

'You fool. You hid the fact that you're already dating my adorable little Violet. How cute! Kuku." He thought as he watched the two beautiful creatures from afar.

As the two reunited once again, they firstly went to the Ever garden house to greet her foster family, dropped her luggage and lovingly put the scented Violet flowers in the vase.

'A person that fits her name.' She thought before the picking the last flower in the bouquet. The figure of the person who gave her a name that  day overlaps to the man who is proudly standing beside her right now. Even if his appearance has changed, the purenes and carefree love that she vividly saw that day still reflected into his beautiful emerald eyes.

She smiled as Gilbert called her name. The way he called her is like a prayer of promise, making her heart palpitate to the point like it's hard to breathe.

"Is it okay if I didn't change my clothes? I...wanted to be more presentable...for major."

Violet once again uttered a word that feels like a borrowed sentence. She too, was surprised as to when did she become self conscious when she's with the other people. But, the major isn't part of people who she categorized as 'others', Gilbert Bougainvillea is her 'Irreplaceable Treasure'.

"You don't have to. Violet, you are the most beautiful woman in my eyes. It cannot be compared to anyone else because my heart only yearns for you."

As Violet is still not used of this romantic side of Gilbert, she wound up turning away her gaze while pretended to smell the flower that she is holding. However, the feelings that she is trying to supress betrayed her greatly, making her blush adorably.

At that moment, Gilbert cannot help but hug her automaticly as she trembled like a cat, being enclosed with his comfortable warmth once again. He chuckled at her cute reaction. He wanted to tease his Violet more but decided not to do it as he ruffled her untangled golden hair.

"I love you, Violet."

The two walked side by side in the middle of the town and there, they found countless of people having fun. Gilbert found something that caught his eye. He smiled sheepishly and offered his hand to Violet, posing like a noble gentleman.

"May I have this dance, Miss Evergarden?"

"The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Bougainvillea." As she gracefully bowed like a noble princess.

The two mostly spent their day through dancing, praising each other's dancing skills, and voicing out their heartfelt love for one another. They danced, danced, and danced, as the beat red orange sun highlighted the mesmerizing figure of the two lovers who was completely drowned in happiness.

The crowd around them cannot help but watch the lovely scene before them. It was like...this festival was made for them. As the autumn leaves began to sway in the cool windy breeze, the lustrous golden hair of that  woman began to flow shiningly, as her dress also began to flutter like a raging wave in the ocean.

"I didn't know the Colonel could dance. It feels like I'm seeing an illusion."

"It is much more surprising that he could smile like that. It's unbelievable!"

"I see. Now I understand why the Colonel was too eager to leave early HAHAHAHA the mighty sure have fallen...HARD!"

Among the watchers are Gilbert's subordinates who have just finished all the heavy work.

Not so far away from the said men, lies a man named, Dietfried who was silently watching his younger brother and his former tool with a furrowed brows.

"It was a beautiful sight, right? Future brother in law." The man who suddenly spoke to him is Laurus, still in his military uniform.

"More like a pair of fools."

He naturally walked away from him, and from that place. Once the people is out of his sight, he let out a true genuine smile and said,

"It was beautiful."

#violet evergarden #gilbert bougainvillea

[crazycat-88]

Male Dragon Ode x Male Reader Part 1 (SFW)

This one is set in a medieval(ish) high fantasy style setting, it’s plot heavy and already sitting at 5,455 words.

Content: Mentioned - War, Death, Murder & Injury. Also contains Disturbing Imagery. Part 1 is SFW but there is an underlying hint of sexual themes. 

On that note, please enjoy!

It was the sound of the warning bells ringing that woke you from your slumber and after dressing you hurried outside where the villagers were screaming and running in all directions in fear, falling all over each other in their panic. A glance up at the sky revealed the reason for such panic and confusion. Dragons. With two of them on the horizon and closing in fast, it was no wonder the villagers were hysterical.

Hearing the chink of armour and of swords being unsheathed, you turned to watch as a group of the kings knights raced towards the dragons. You considered drawing your own sword in aid but you were no knight and you had no desire to die today. Instead you tried to help your neighbours, many of which were to hysterical to seek shelter and many stood frozen watching the chaos unfold.

Fortunately, it seemed that neither dragon was interested in the village itself and as one stood fighting the knights and batting them away like flies, the other headed straight towards the castle sailing high over the defences and crashing straight into the north tower. You were too busy to see what the dragon was after but not ten minutes had passed when suddenly it was all over.

The village itself was unscathed and the villagers only injuries had been caused by their own hand. The knights were not so fortunate, many of whom had to be carried on stretchers to the village hospital. It was surprising that there were very few casualties, with two dragons you’d have expected more carnage, and you wondered what had brought on this attack. It had been years since the dragons that lived up on the mountains had come down to this village, despite the ongoing war between your two species.

It hadn’t always been this way. When you were a boy, dragons had been an everyday sight. The dragons had been your kingdom's allies and the king and his knights would ride the dragons into battle. It had been your dream as a child to become a knight and be a dragon rider, but then everything changed and war had broken out. The details of why were unclear, the king had said that the dragons had betrayed the kingdom but the dragons claimed the opposite had happened.

Many rumours had spread through the kingdom as to the reason for the war, some had merit, while others were completely ridiculous. Whatever the truth, the day the war had broken out you knew four things for certain; One - The queen was dead, having died giving birth to the princess. Two - The leader of the dragons was dead, killed by the king himself. Three - You would never become a dragon rider, and four - The dragons who were once cherished and revered, were now hated and feared and had returned to their homes in the mountains or had left to new lands.

No one was sure how many dragons remained in the mountains, they were rarely seen and the knights and squires that ventured up there in the hopes of bringing back a dragons head rarely returned. The lucky few that did never spoke of seeing more than one, likely the reason they had survived the trip. Taking on one dragon was stupid, taking on more was suicide. Still it seemed every month produced a new, young, foolish squire that ventured up there with the hopes of coming home to be knighted by the king for their supposed strength and bravery.

You had never become a squire, your mother did not have enough coin and no knight had been willing to accept you as their page due to a slight limp you had acquired from an accident as a young boy. Instead you had become a mercenary, a soldier available to hire for the right price. You rarely worked with a crew, finding the other local mercenaries lacking in morals. A little hypocritical perhaps but still, there were things even you were unwilling to do.

--------

The following morning you caught sight of a group of knights making their way up to the mountains. The dragons must have really upset the king this time you thought as you watched their progress until they were out of sight. The knights returned the following day, the group half its original size and those left sporting a number of injuries. This went on for three days, until finally on the fourth, you and every other mercenary in the kingdom were called to stand in the king's banquet hall.

You stood there waiting, gazing around in discomfort. It was the first time you had ever entered the castle and you were not expecting to see mounted heads of dragons decorating the walls. You had heard rumours that the king had gone mad with both rage and grief after the death of the queen but you had never been one to put much stock in rumours. Perhaps you should of you think, cringing at the sight before you. Your fellow mercenaries seemed just as disturbed as you and you all shifted uncomfortably while waiting to discover why you had all been called there.

The king had not been seen outside of the castle for years and you are surprised to see him looking so old and haggard when he makes his entrance surrounded by guards. His voice is strong however as he welcomes you and he states that he has called you all here for an important mission. He claims his daughter, the princess, has been taken by the dragons and he asks that you all journey to the mountains to rescue her. He offers a high reward for her safe return and you listen as the men murmur amongst themselves.

It is not a job you would usually accept having no interest in taking on a dragon, however when one of the men refuses the job outright it is made clear that it is an order and not a request after all. The men gathered wisely stay quiet after that but you wonder just how many will abandon the quest once you reach the mountains. As you leave the castle, the king makes one last request, he asks that when you do find the princess, you do not look upon her. With that confusing request he leaves the hall followed by his guards.

On your journey to the mountain the men talk amongst themselves, separating naturally into groups. You end up riding alongside a crew that had just been passing through the kingdom and had no intention of actually going up the mountain. They were quiet, a stark contrast to the crew riding ahead of you, who are jovial about going up the mountain. This crew are locals and you can hear them boast to others about having faced dragons before and it being an easy job causing you to snort dubiously.

‘‘I’d heard the rumours that your king had lost his mind but I didn’t believe it until today… I’m Gadaric by the way,’’ says the half orc next to you. ‘‘And these boys are Frederic, Laodamas and Meuric,’’ he continues, pointing to each of the men as he introduces them. Nodding to each of the men, you introduce yourself.

‘‘Do you plan on going up the mountain?’’ Frederic asks you quietly.

‘‘I suppose I’ll have to if I wish to return home,’’ you reply. You do consider leaving it all behind but there is also the matter of the princess’s life. While you do not know her, you feel obliged to at least try and save her.

‘‘Good luck,’’ Gadaric says. ‘‘I’ve gone up against dragons in the past and it's never ended well.’’

‘‘Thank you. I'm hoping to avoid the dragons to be honest,’’ you reply.

‘‘That’s your best bet. Let the others cause a distraction, then sneak in, save the princess and get the hell out of there,’’ Frederic whispers.

You just nod at him in agreement. Honestly that had been your plan, you had no desire to face down a dragon. You may be skilled with a sword but you did not believe yourself competent enough to take down a dragon. You also had no desire to kill such a creature, you had always thought them to be magnificent and majestic, and you knew they were capable of great acts of kindness. It had been a dragon that had saved your life when you had your accident. Your whole life you had felt conflicted when you thought of the dragons, you knew they were now your peoples enemy and that you were at war with them but you couldn’t separate the new knowledge from the old feelings.

As you approach the base of the mountain, the men break off into two groups. The crew you were talking with leaves riding East towards the next kingdom and many of the other men move to follow them. You knew many of the men wouldn’t stay but you are still surprised when only eight of you remain to make your way up the mountain.

‘‘Why do you think the king asked for us not to look at the princess?’’ One of the men asks quietly.

‘‘Maybe she’s really ugly,’’ laughs another loudly. You recognise this one as a local mercenary, who’s always been a brute with no morals. He’s also the one that boasted of killing a dragon before, though you’re confident that he was talking out of his arse.

‘‘Or… maybe the rumours about her are true,’’ says another one of the men.

‘‘What rumours?’’ asks the only non-human left amongst you.

‘‘They say she isn’t the king's daughter… that she isn’t completely human,’’ answers one of the men.

‘‘Wh-what?’’

‘‘Who says?’’

‘‘That’s all utter bull crap.’’

‘‘You’d believe anything.’’

Everyone speaks at once. Some of the men are guffawing loudly, and one pushes another. If they carry on at this rate the dragons will you hear you coming a mile off. That is assuming they don’t already know you’re here.

‘‘Everyone shut up! Do you want them to know we’re coming,’’ hisses one man, echoing your thoughts.

It’s far too late though, as just as he gets the last word out, you all hear a mighty roar and a large green dragon appears breathing fire towards the group. Everyone scatters, with some of the men ducking behind rocks, others raise their shields, draw their swords and race towards the dragon. Seeing this as an opportunity, you scan the rocks searching for an entrance to the tunnels and caves inside. Finally spotting one, you make a dash for it, reaching the entrance unscathed. None of the men follow you inside, which you’re glad of, but you do hope that the majority of them make it home in one piece.

Luckily the entrance does in fact lead to a tunnel, though it is tight and obviously not used by the dragons and you carefully squeeze your way through it. You know you are on the right track when you see the glow of firelight up ahead. Slowly, unsure of what you will find, you follow the glow, breathing slowly until you reach an opening in the tunnel. Beyond that, you find an enormous cavern and you can hear the rumbling snores of a dragon far too close for comfort.

Torches line the cave walls thankfully providing light, however you can still feel your heart pounding frantically as you search the cave for the source of the rumbling snores. You almost miss the dragon at first, your gaze skipping over him before you do a double take. He is lying fast asleep amongst his hoard of gold coins and other trinkets, the colour of him blending in to the rock like camouflage. You feel your heart skip a beat and the first word to come into your mind is beautiful.

He is magnificent and large, a grey-blue colour, with two long white curved horns upon his head. Two smaller white horns sit just beneath those, jutting out from the side of his head and on each of his four legs, he has a set of sharp white claws. His long neck, bat like wings and sharply pointed tail are tightly curled around his body while smoke billows from his nostrils as he continues snoring, your presence for now going unnoticed.

Shaking your head at your thoughts, you note that he is not one of the dragons that had attacked the kingdom, both of those had been green, and you see no sign of the princess here. Searching the large cavern for another exit, you curse internally when you see that the only other way out is directly behind the dragon and you consider your options. Do you try to get around the slumbering dragon to the opening which likely leads further into the caves and hopefully to the princess or do you go back out the way you came, not knowing what’s outside, and try to find another opening.

Deciding you’d rather face a sleeping dragon than the angry one outside, you press yourself close to the wall and cautiously inch your way along it. Every time the dragons rumbling changes in pitch, you stop holding your breath hearing your heart pounding in your ears. Just as you think that you are going to make it, the dragon suddenly snorts awake and his amber eyes open, his gaze narrowing when he sees you.

‘‘Human,’’ he growls, standing up on his four muscular legs, claws scraping over the stone.

Shit! You did not appreciate his sheer size until he stands facing you, he’s not the largest dragon you have ever seen but still, he’s double your size. You raise your shield but do not draw your sword, hoping if you do not pose an immediate threat he may not kill you just yet. Eyeing the opening you wonder if you should make a dash for it but he follows your gaze and blocks the way by unfurling his wings, caging you in.

‘‘Have you come for my head or my hoard?’’ He growls snarling, lips pulling back revealing his maw full of very sharp teeth.

‘‘Neither… I came for the princess,’’ you gasp, standing frozen with your heart pounding and gaze fixed on those teeth.

‘‘Ah... You’ve come for the girl. How chivalrous,’’ he rumbles, tilting his head to get a better look at you.

‘‘Do you know where she is?’’ You ask.

‘‘Perhaps…’’ he rumbles, sitting back on his haunches and folding his wings back.

You dare not move though, as his tail trails dangerously close to your body. Alert, as if waiting for any sudden movement.

‘‘Will you tell me where she is?’’ You ask him hopefully.

‘‘What makes you think she wants to be saved?’’ He rumbles in amusement, his tail twitching side to side, occasionally brushing against your legs.

‘‘Um… because she was kidnapped by a dragon?’’ You reply blinking, confused by the question.

‘‘Humans,’’ he growls in reply. ‘‘You are all the same, rushing in to save the day, assuming the worst.’’

‘‘I… Are you saying saying she doesn’t need saving?’’ You ask, shifting your weight uncomfortably. Since it appears that he has no intention of killing you, you relax a little and lower your shield.

‘‘Hmm… Would you believe me if I said yes?’’ He asks, watching your movements carefully.

‘‘I’d believe it if she told me herself,’’ you reply frowning.

He growls, tilting his head again, studying you for a moment, before rumbling, ‘‘Strange little human… engaging in conversation with the enemy… Do you not wish to see me dead?’’

‘‘No…’’ you say honestly. ‘‘Now can I speak to the princess or not?’’ You ask.

You manage to keep your voice steady, trying to sound braver than you feel but as he stands and lowers his head so that his snout is in front of your face, you can’t help but tremble wondering if he may just kill you after all. The heat that blows from his nostrils is stifling and you nervously break out in a sweat. Fortunately he just chuckles and turns towards the opening.

‘‘Follow me brave little human... and leave your sword and shield behind.’’

You watch him move, exhaling in relief as he leaves the cavern and you debate whether or not to trust him. Figuring if he was going to kill you, he would have done it already, you reluctantly drop your shield and sword, hoping you won’t regret leaving them behind and follow him through the opening which leads to another tunnel. As you quickly catch up with him, he lets out another rumbling chuckle which causes you to tremble for an entirely different reason, the sound of it vibrating through your body.

Trying to ignore it, you pay close attention to where you’re going, keeping track of all the twists and turns in the tunnel in case you need to make an escape later. Suddenly you make a turn into a tunnel which isn’t lit and as you move further along it the light from behind dies out, leaving you unable to see. You start to panic slightly, trying to see by sound but even the dragons footsteps are silent, and you stop, no longer following.

‘‘What’s wrong, why have you stopped,’’ the dragon rumbles a second later.

‘‘I can’t see,’’ you explain.

You gasp, tensing as you feel something wrap around your waist and touching it you feel the rough scales of what can only be the dragon's tail. He surprises you by tugging you towards him and you collide with the side of his body.

‘‘I forget you humans can’t see in the dark,’’ he rumbles quietly. ‘‘Just relax and let me lead the way.’’

Laying your hand on his side, you let him lead you through the tunnel, sighing when you realise that you will now be unable to get out of these tunnels on your own. Absently one hand strokes along his tail while the fingers on your other knead into the ridges on his side. You only realise what you’re doing when he rumbles out a noise which sounds strangely like a purr. You stop what you’re doing immediately, embarrassed, but fortunately the dragon doesn’t comment.

‘‘What’s your name,’’ you ask, trying to distract yourself and tired of referring to him as dragon.

‘‘Ode,’’ he rumbles in reply. ‘‘What is yours?’’

Telling him, you listen as he repeats it, before he chuckles, ‘‘I think I prefer little human.’’

Shaking your head, you walk the rest of the way in silence. It feels like you’ve been walking for miles, when eventually you see a light up ahead. Sighing in relief, your legs now sore and your limp more pronounced, you remove your hand from Ode’s side and step away slightly. You expect him to remove his tail from around your waist and you're surprised when he doesn’t, eyeing him subtly you watch as he continues you walking, not acknowledging that you have moved away or that he still has a hold of you.

The light leads into yet another tunnel, this one lined with torches, finally at the end of it is another cavern similar to the one you found Ode in, wide with high ceilings, and immediately upon entering your gaze goes to the large green dragon, who’s head swings in your direction growling. Then you notice the human standing beside the dragon and gasp.

‘‘Ode… Why have you brought a human here?’’ The distinctly female dragon growls.

You don’t hear Ode’s reply though as you’re to busy examining the only other human in the room, though perhaps human is the wrong word. She’s tall, with curved golden horns that sit above her ears, and skin that is dappled with black scales. Then you notice that she has digitigrade legs and a tail, also black, that curls behind her. You feel Ode’s tail leave your waist as you approach her slowly.

‘‘Princess Adelaide?’’ You murmur questionly.

You hear the dragon beside her growl at you and feel the heat of Ode behind you but are far to distracted looking into the eyes of the princess in front of you. It’s like looking into the eyes of a dragon and you cannot believe the rumours are true, that she is half dragon, but she nods in reply to your murmur before frowning.

‘‘You are not a knight,’’ she says.

‘‘No,’’ you agree. ‘‘And you are not what I was expecting either.’’

As the green dragon growls at you again, the princess runs her hand along her snout. ‘‘It is alright Estrild. It’s understandable that he is confused,’’ she says to the dragon before turning back to you. ‘‘Did the king send you?’’

‘‘Yes, he’s very concerned for your welfare princess.’’

‘‘I highly doubt that,’’ she snorts.

‘‘I… do not understand,’’ you murmur.

‘‘Come sit. Let me tell you a story,’’ she says, leading you over to sit by a stream that runs through the cavern. Both dragons follow behind you, and while Ode lies behind you, his head at your side, Estrild lies beside the princess laying her head over her lap. You watch this with interest, wondering just how close the two are.

Princess Adelaide then offers you a cup full of mead and you take it gratefully, sipping it slowly while you wait for the princess to get comfortable.

‘‘Hmmm... where should I start,’’ princess Adelaide mumbles, staring down at her cup.

‘‘The beginning is usually the best place princess,’’ Ode rumbles amusedly.

‘‘Thank you Ode,’’ she chuckles in reply. Then looking at you she continues, ‘‘My mother and the king were betrothed… they had no love for one another and that never changed. She was treated as a possession and while he was known for being a strong and fair king, he was not a good husband… My mother sought comfort elsewhere and found it with the Dragon leader Arthfael. They fell in love with one another but they tried to keep their relationship platonic, knowing it would be wrong for them to be together…’’ she says sighing, and then taking a drink.

‘‘One night they gave in to their desire and while they never regretted it, they swore to never let it happen again. Soon after, my mother discovered she was with child, but assumed it to be the kings, believing it impossible to be Arthfaels… When I was born, the king discovered the truth, he murdered my mother in a fit of rage and then Arthfael. It is unknown why he spared me, but he certainly did not raise me, I was kept locked in the north wing and whenever our paths crossed he treated me with derision’’ she sighs, her gaze unfocused.

‘‘How… how do you know all this?’’ You ask, stunned at her story.

Shaking her head and with her gaze focusing, she looks you in the eye. ‘‘My mother’s maid was her one true friend and confidant. She became my nanny and as I grew older I kept asking her questions about my mother, the dragons and why I was different. She eventually told me everything just recently.’’

‘‘And the dragons?’’ You ask questionly, glancing briefly at Ode and then Estrild.

The princess smiles and looks down at Estrild smiling and stroking her head, before saying, ‘‘They knew of Arthfaels love for the queen, when he was killed by the king they left for the mountains, the alliance over. They would have left it alone but the king, still mad with rage wanted every dragon to be punished… People say the king went mad after the queens death but servants in the castle would tell you he was always this way.’’

‘‘How did you come to know Estrild? And the other dragons?’’ You ask. Everything you had heard so far was interesting but it did not explain why the dragons would come for her now and how she seemed to close to Estrild.

‘‘I discovered a secret passageway out of the castle a year ago, I have been sneaking out, meeting with Estrild in secret,’’ she giggles. ‘‘They never knew I was Arthfaels child and you can imagine their surprise when I met them. I always returned to the castle though, my nanny is very much like my own mother... Then I got caught trying to sneak out one night and I was locked in my room. Estrild came for me with her brother Dew when I failed to meet her as we arranged… but I never expected it to cause all this trouble.’’

‘‘The king has sent most of his knights after you and now he’s moved on to mercenaries… He seems determined to get you back,’’ you say frowning.

‘‘He does not want anyone knowing the truth, nor does he want me to be happy,’’ she says sadly.

‘‘What will you do now?’’

‘‘Most of the dragons have already left these mountains to a land across the sea, the rest remaining are planning to leave in a matter of days and I am going with them.’’

‘‘What of the king? He’s going to keep sending men here after you,’’ you ask.

‘‘I know and I worry for the dragons if more come before we leave,’’ she says, frowning before suddenly sitting straighter with an excited look. ‘‘Will you return and report to the king that I am dead?’’ She asks hopefully.

‘‘I… You want me to lie to the king?’’ You ask, worried about the consequences of such an action.

‘‘He won’t know it is a lie. Please, ’’ she begs, and you find yourself unable to refuse especially with Estrild eyeing you like she might eat you if you do.

You spend a little more time there talking with princess Adelaide, you ask how she met Estrild and she asks what life in the village is like. Ode and Estrild mostly stay silent, only occasionally adding to the conversation. Dew, Estrild’s brother, eventually makes an appearance and you are introduced. It is evident that he was the dragon outside that took down the rest of the mercenaries and that he is most displeased to discover that you managed to evade him.

He is huge, the largest of the three, with only one eye and a broken horn. You leave soon after his arrival, feeling uncomfortable as he glares at you distrustfully. Ode escorts you, leading you back into the tunnel from which you came.

‘‘Did you injure your leg?’’ Ode asks, as he notices your limp.

‘‘No, it is an old injury. It has just been exacerbated by the journey here and by all the walking,’’ you explain.

‘‘Climb onto my back, I will carry you the rest of the way,’’ he rumbles, stopping and looking at you expectantly.

‘‘That is not necessary, I can manage,’’ you protest, though secretly you would love to ride him and feel your heart race at the prospect.

‘‘Get on,’’ he rumbles. ‘‘We will be in the dark again soon enough and you cannot see where you are walking.’’

‘‘Alright,’’ you say, withholding a grin. ‘‘You will have to help me up though.’’

He does so by wrapping his tail around your waist again and lifting you straight onto his back. You hold on tightly as he lets go and starts walking, finding it surprisingly comfortable. Now he is no longer looking at your face, you grin widely. It may not be the same as flying on a dragon but it certainly comes close.

‘‘Alright back there?’’ He rumbles questionly.

‘‘Yes, thank you Ode.’’ You reply, still grinning happily.

In the dark you stroke the scales on his back, finding them rough to the touch, while Ode rumbles a purr that seems to vibrate straight through you. The journey back to Ode’s cavern passes far quicker than you hope and you reluctantly slide down from his back when you reach the cavern and he stops laying down to aid your descent.

‘‘It is late, you should stay here for the night,’’ he rumbles.

‘‘I… well if you don’t mind, thank you,’’ you say, not liking the idea of traveling back to the village in the dark.

‘‘Not at all… it has been a long time since I’ve had the pleasure of another’s company.’’

‘‘What about the other dragons?’’

‘‘We tend to keep to ourselves… Dew and Estrild are the exception. I speak to them both on occasion but we are not close,’’ he explains, and you nod accepting this, knowing that dragons are generally solitary creatures. ‘‘There is a small stream towards the back of the cavern is you wish to bathe,’’ he says, standing and leading you over to the back of the cavern.

‘‘I would, yes,’’ you say, eager to clean yourself. After the journey here and walk through the tunnels you cannot imagine that you smell particularly fresh and you wonder if it bothers him.

‘‘I will get you a cloth that you can use to clean yourself and a cloak to wear,’’ he rumbles, moving around a protruding rock which is large enough for him to almost disappear behind it.

Removing your tunic in preparation, you are bare down to the waist and debating whether to remove the rest of your clothing, when he returns, bundles of cloth clutched in his claws. He stops when he sees you, his widening as he stares at your torso. You feel a thrill run through you as he eyes you in what seems like appreciation before cautiously approaching you and pushing the bundles towards you.

‘‘I will go hunt while you bathe,’’ he rumbles, before turning and heading out of the cavern, tail scraping along the stone.

Smiling you bathe before pulling on the cloak that he has brought you. While you wait for him to return, you have a look around the cavern finding it to be even larger than you first thought, with corners that lead to more areas that contain items of his hoard. Around one corner you find bundles of fabric which have been arranged into a makeshift nest.

When he returns, you help him build a fire on which to cook the meat he’s brought back with him. He may not need it cooked but you certainly do and as you do that you ask him about his life up here in the mountains and about what his life was like before the war. You sit by his side, comfortably leaning against him as you listen to him talk feeling his chest vibrate with every breath.

You are surprised to learn that he is considered young in terms of dragons but old enough that he has already had young that are now fully grown and have since left. He has been on his own ever since, hunting and sleeping the days away except for the brief time he spent with the humans. You have many questions for him and he answers them all patiently before he loses interest in speaking about himself and instead asks that you tell him more about your life in the village and the work you do.

‘‘So you’ve never battled a dragon then?’’ He asks, as you finish telling him about your previous jobs.

‘‘No, I’ve never wanted to. A dragon saved my life when I was a boy and…’’ you say, trailing off.

‘‘And what?’’

You chuckle self consciously. ‘‘He was my first crush. Strange I know but…’’ you say, turning to look at the fire.

‘‘Not so strange,’’ he rumbles amusedly, turning your head carefully with a claw. ‘‘Surely you noticed that the princess and Estrild are more than just friends. And I… I have always found you humans beautiful… so small and delicate.’’

‘‘Ode,’’ you whisper questionly searching his eyes, as you feel him shuffle slightly, wings twitching.

‘‘Get some sleep little human, you need it for the journey back tomorrow,’’ he rumbles standing. ‘‘It is more comfortable in my nest, come.’’

You frown as you follow him to the nest you saw earlier, confused at his sudden withdrawal. Not wanting to push your luck or upset him, you settle down in the nest, finding yourself yawning. You are tired and while you would rather be engaging in more interesting actively, sleep is the next best thing.

‘‘Stay?’’ You murmur questionly, as Ode turns to leave. He eyes you for a moment before laying down next you. When you tuck yourself closer in to him and stroke along his snout, he lets out a purr and wraps his tail around you.

‘‘Good night little human,’’ he rumbles, as quietly as a dragon can, sounding just as tired as you feel.

‘‘Goodnight Ode,’’ you murmur in response.

---------------

Thanks for reading! As always please reblog. Likes & Comments are also appreciated,I love to hear what you guys think.

My Masterlist

#exophilia #male monster #male dragon #male reader #male/male #dragon/human #monster/reader #interspecies relationship #My writing #My characters

[emmaofnormandy]

~Winds of the North: when Queen Anne Neville meets Lady Sansa~

The year was set in someday close to the winter of 1484. The queen was ill and she was more than aware of the whispers that circulated court by then. The thought of it could not slip out of her mind even if she wanted to: through the looking glass she watched her beautiful and joyful niece, Lady Elizabeth, brush over her auburn locks patiently.

Anne admittedly resented the youth that releted her body, giving space to a mortality she did not expect to feel so soon. Right before her there was someone who could replace her on the throne if rumours were taken to be true. She watched the precision with which the golden locks of Elyzabeth Plantagenet were tied accordingly the recent fashion which was imported from Bugundy (Anne was also aware how Italian States were responsible for this new way of braiding hair), a pair of esmerald earrings garnishing her pale skin, matching the necklace of same jewel in the younger woman’s neck. Elizabeth’s oval face reminded Anne of her father, Anne’s cousin and late king, Edward the fourth.She could tell there was no trace of illegitimacy in the princess’ features and the close resemblance was ever so present that turned difficult for her to look at the woman who was supposed to be queen and not her lady-in-waiting.

“Do you appreciate this, lady Elyzabeth?” Anne inquired, all of the suddenly. They were in the queen’s personal chambers and as the day was one very invitive to those who appreciated the outdoors, she dismissed the others who were meant to stay there, but only her niece refused it and gladly stayed by her side.

Elyzabeth rose those piece grey eyes that reminded Anne of storm seas, and the queen could not help wonder if there was ever one beneath the quiet personality of that young woman. In fact, considering all the recent events, Anne was rather surprised for seeing such resilience in the girl’s presence. She’s far stronger than I’d ever be.

“Pardon, Your Grace?” Oh, she did not understand.

With tiring eyes, Anne fixed the gaze upon the reflection of her niece on the mirror. Lady Elyzabeth’s clothing shared the same material the one on the queen’s body, they were even of the same colour. Blue.

“People talk.” She sighed and saw the alert behind her niece’s eyes. “I know it, Elyzabeth.”

“I vow it to your ladyship that I have...” Elyzabeth panicked... to the queen’s relief.

“I know.” But even though I did know, I had to be sure. “It’s difficult to be at the centre of a place where people whisper behind your back and long for your death. I lived a difficult life, I suppose the end should have not been any easier.”

“Your Grace!” Elyzabeth protested, but the protest would not last longer as a knock on the door interrupted the small thread between the noble ladies. 

Anne, with the dignity that left of her, dismissed her niece’s services with a wave of hand and rose. She looked at herself through the looking glass and saw the blue velvet gown falling over her curves, the silk touching her skin, even though it felt as if it touched her bones. She felt exposed, but she had to be strong.

Her auburn hair shone long, dropping loose behind her back. If only she could let it that way...! But Anne had her pride in her doings and so she tied it herself, following the new costumes. In the back of her mind, the flashback of her youth reminding her of her strenght: even now, she could hear Queen Marguerite’s snorts due to her fear of the sea. The teachings of the French red rose could not be swept away even now.

“See the wheel of fortune, madame Anne?” Marguerite d’Anjou spoke in the queen’s memories. “One day it might take you so high there’ll be no time to enjoy the view for in the next moment, it will take you just as low.”

Even now, Anne Neville remembered Marguerite d’Anjou’s smirk.

“What’s with that face, lass? There is no time to mourn for the past. You are your father’s daughter. Act like it. In this world we live in, dominated by men who know nothing but power and will not rest easy until they have it for themselves, there is no space for naivety or sweetness. You be that and the wolves will eat you.”

“Please come inside.” Anne recovered her voice. It was Cecily Plantagenet, lady Elyzabeth’s sister. The Queen smiled to the younger woman, so vivid like her father and beautiful like her mother. The Plantagenet temper is very evident in this one. “Greetings well beloved, I trust you are well?”

Cecily had the same shades of blonde hair that her sister did, but her face was softened and her eyes, blue also, was so full of life. She was a natural charmer and, like their father, this one was fond of talking, gossip and flirting. Nonetheless, she respected the king and the queen’s authority and Queen Anne appreciated that.

“You do, Your Grace, thank you.” She curtsied. “I bring you delightful news from His Grace, the king. We ought to receive an important guest at your court! It appears that an old ally of your lord husband named Petyr Baelish is scorting a northern lady of a noble house of Westeros. Her name is Sansa Stark, and she is coming to stay.”

Queen Anne blinked, but suddenly these news were giving a new blow of life. Lady Cecily slowed down, once excitement gave space to be reasonable in speaking.

“Westeros is in Civil War, Your Grace. Although the Queen Regent is in friendly terms with your sire husband, the king, there lies suspicious of her intentions towards our house. The Starks, however, were once aided by King Richard, as I was once told, so their king in the north, Robb Stark, is sending his sister over here until the situation is resolved. It seems that a man to them known, this who is named Petyr Baelish, is the responsible for taking the poor lady out of that court of wolves.”

The familiarity was too much for the Queen to bear. Exile, civil war... wounds the time did not seem to heal. They bleeded continuously and the Queen feared for herself. How long before this ends? How long before I can leave all of this suffering behind?

She remembered the tensions, the fear in her mother’s eyes, the bravery in Isabel’s... The fierce in her father, once the glorious kingmaker became the traitor. These days, however, few would remember him even if his daughter was on the throne. However, there was no point in dwelling over the past, even her former mother by law, the red queen, would say so. Therefore she glanced upon Cecily and smiled a convincing smile. 

For lately, I scarely found a reason to live anymore.

“Of course”. The Queen nodded her head. “When will she arrive?”

“She has already sailed in Devon”, lady Cecily gladly informed. “So she is expected to arrive in a day or two.”

The Queen could behold in the back of her mind the shadow of anxiety in Richard’s features. A man as himself is not one prompted to festivities, the display of vanity; on that aspect, he was much more comfortable amongst the men on battle. Anne, on the other hand, was the perfect hostess. She was a survivor herself, and lived in three different courts, dancing accordingly each song. She knew well what her husband would tell her this late evening and a smile graced her lips. 

This part he knows I’ll play perfectly well. 

This somehow brought new sense of duty to the queen, who instantly was seen as if live was instantly gained. When the king came to visit her that afternoon, he was surprised to see how... alive she looked to be.

“I do not expect you to settle easily at the thought of me dead.” Her voice is sweet, but her words were not. Richard looked hurt. At least he bears some sense in appearing so.

“To arm yourself by sharpening your tongue is unlike yourself.” And wasn’t he perceptive enough? “I pray you tell me you have not been giving ears to those poisonous beings who do nothing but to whisper ill of ourselves?”

He looks displeased and I, ashamed. 

“My dearest loving wife”, he took Anne’s face by his hands and for a moment that is what they were: man and wife, with no titles to weigh upon their shoulders. “After all I’ve been through at your side, may this not be broken by people’s foolishness.”

And so she wept. Richard sighed, but unlike any other husband in his position, would not tear her away from him.

“I’m sorry. This is all too much to bear.” He relented. “Nonetheless, do not push me away. You are too kind to this world”.

Anne blinked away the memories of the past, but she could still hear the red queen’s voice.

“What happens now?” She inquired, and felt stupid by opening her mouth when she met the red queen’s fierce gaze. Marguerite d’Anjou was beautiful, but cold and, some might say, evil. Her red locks were braided and there was no sympathy upon her face. Those blue eyes more looked like the warning of storm, than welcoming sea. 

“War is not for sweet creatures as yourself”, it was the retort she heard. “You either endure and learn or fall to be misguided.”

“I would not like that, Your Grace”. Even then, her voice sounded cheap and...stupid...for her ears. But she was frightened, and the queen saw it. 

“Do you think I would? I lost a husband who loved me, who cherished me the world.” She said bitterly. “My only sin was to be born a french and his, to be uncapable of rulling with a strong will. One day, you will have to do that for yourself at my sons’s side. Otherwise, they will break you and a victim you shall be.”

“There is no space for love in wars”, she comprehended then. 

The queen’s cold laughter was a sound difficult to hear. A loved woman, brokenhearted by life... the wheel of fortune was cruel.

“There could always be”, the red queen pondered, casting a meaningless glance to her new daughter by law, “if you know how to play the game, if you know how to survive.”

As Queen Anne embraced her king, she was ever certain and reassured that, whatever were the thoughts regarding Richard’s actions as the new Yorkist monarch of England, she survived. A survivor she was and would ever be one. 

There /is/ space for love in the midst of wars after all, she contemplated. I won the game of thrones. I’m standing here and Richard holds my love and support as I hold his. 

It was all the matter to remember Anne Neville that she was still alive.

*                                                             *                                                  *

The redhaired younger woman with porcelain skin and blue eyes finally arrived at this new court, prompted to receive her into their arms. For a long while, throughout this journey, Sansa became Alayne, but now she was safe enough to become herself again.

She was careful, of course. She learned enough from Petyr ever the days spent in the Vale. At times, Sansa would even miss it. But enough was enough and there were little space other than to think of her survival. Nonetheless... she remembered. The sparks of civil war that led to Joffrey’s death, a failed attemptive on the part of prince Oberyn to avenge the murder of his sister, than there was her brother hoping to save her but dying in the midst of the red wedding.... Such were the events that gave her little peace, if not none, in her sleep.

For a moment, she was distracted as her carriage finally arrives in London. The capital of this new, different kingdom under whose ruler she was expected to be protected. She was not entirely certain about that, a bad feeling daunting her, but Sansa knew better than that.She rose her head high and it was finally time to behave like the lady her mother raised to be.

So there was Sansa Stark, dressed in white-and-green silk with long sleeves according the Westerosi fashion. Her long red locks were braided perfectly and suddenly, as the court welcomed her, the northern lady felt the eyes over her. There was little space to think or far less to capture the details of this new land which it was expected to be her temporary home for the queen, richly dressed in white and purple, came to greet her personally.

“Welcome to St James Palace, Lady Sansa. I’m Queen Anne. My husband, King Richard, awaits indoors.”

Sansa found herself shy at first, but gladly took the companionship of Queen Anne of England. For a moment, it was as if she was regained contact with her former self, the dreamer and silly one whose mind was filled with hopes of marrying for love and being acquainted with knights and bards.

As for the queen of England, she saw in Sansa the young girl whom she used to be, merry of soul and full of dreams of a happy and stable life. The two took immediately liking for each other and King Richard’s court proved a delight to Sansa. 

“Do you dance, Your Grace?” lady Sansa inquired after they all feasted and chatted as if there were no threats of rebellions outside, there were no quarellings to dwell upon. It was a merry scenario, one of the kind that pleased King Richard very much when seeing the best effect it had not only to his wife but also to this protegée of his.

“I used to, but...” Queen Anne hesitated. For the last days, she felt alive again and even more so now that Lady Stark was there at court, but could she risk her health? She quickly glanced at her husband, which did not go unnoticed by Sansa, who feared to have disapproved them both but one nod of Richard and Anne promptly accepted the girl’s invitation.

It all went well for these akin souls. Anne revived and Sansa found comfort again. This blissful scenario occurred for days, weeks, before they turned to months. Sansa reminded Anne of the innocence left behind and the queen taught her protegée how shield herself and sharp her mind before the cruelties of the world.

“You will see there is space for love in the midst of war”, said Anne. “But you must be prepared to fight for it and defend it with all that you have.”

Sansa pondered her words. “Is it possible?”

“Aye. I married the king, haven’t I?” She smiled and the redheaded northern girl aquiesced.

Even when the winter came, Sansa was provided for. She would miss Anne terribly, as were the Queen to miss her company. But in the end, Anne had peace even if at the cust of her life. She filled with her mission and such was the great lesson that Sansa Stark finally learned...

#Sansa Stark #Anne Neville #Sansa StarkxAnneNeville #House Stark #Plantagenet Dynasty #Plantagenet #CrossOver #game of thrones #margaret of anjou #alternative universe #Richard III

[satonthelotuspier]

ooooh could you do the "get out of my head" prompt pretty please? I love them vibes...

Thank you so much for the prompt RJ, I’m just sorry it took me so long to get my brain in gear, I was having a bit of a creative nope and my mind was full of character study instead. You didn’t specify a pairing so I went with some Modern XiYao, with a less manipulative MY than I normally write. Hope you enjoy it.

Prompt is from this list here 

“Hey!”

Lan Xichen had just drifted off to sleep when Meng Yao’s voice sounded stridently in the room; he jerked awake to feel the bowl of noodles that had been tipping over snatched out of his hands.

He blinked to try and clear his foggy mind, rubbing at his face in confusion.

“That was nearly a mess” Men Yao informed him and placed the bowl on the table beside the couch.

“Hmm” Lan Xichen agreed, not quite knowing what he was agreeing to, “Sorry” he managed eventually.

Meng Yao eyed him with an odd look on his face; it was something approaching tenderness, but considering Meng Yao didn’t have those kinds of feelings it must be the sleep clouding his mind.

That look of tenderness, if that’s what it had been, vanished then, and his expression returned to it’s usual, pleasant openness.

That someone as emotionally closed off as his room mate had a face that automatically settled into that kind of expression was ironic; it didn’t look fake but it was one hundred percent purely skin deep.

“Aren’t you meant to be meeting Nie Mingjue for drinks later? Shall I cancel for you? You look like you’re about to drop” there was a watchfulness in Meng Yao’s dark gaze as he made the offer, as if that was his wish, not that he should have any reason to care either way; Lan Xichen didn’t think he was the kind to feel left out just because their friend had asked to see Lan Xichen alone as he wanted to talk privately with him. “I think you need an early night”

“No, its alright, I won’t stay out late”

“You can’t drive in that state” Meng Yao argued, and Lan Xichen wondered at the fact it really did seem like Meng Yao didn’t want him to go. He’d have to apologise later for leaving him out.

“I’ll take a taxi, Mingjue-xiong will make sure I get home in one piece. I’m going to shower quickly to see if it will wake me up a little”

He didn’t see Meng Yao again before he left for the bar Nie Mingjue had arranged for them to meet at.

Once he arrived at the bar he felt a little underdressed; he’d changed into dark jeans and the Pikachu hoodie Meng Yao and bought him as a joke, poking fun at his insular, upper class upbringing which meant he’d had no idea at all what the heck a Pikachu was when Meng Yao and Nie Mingjue had waxed lyrical about the latest Pokemon releases as room mates at University; stupidly it was his favourite item of clothing.

Nie Mingjue had obviously come straight from work though, he looked every inch the impressive prosecutor he was becoming in his business suit that emphasised his powerful shoulders and narrow waist. He would be a physically intimidating sight in a court room for any opponent.

“Xichen” the other greeted as he slid into the booth across from Nie Mingjue and ordered tea. Tempting as coffee was he was probably functioning on nothing but pure caffeine by this point and he needed to be able to sleep later so keeping his intake as low as possible was sensible. “You look exhausted, have you just come off a double shift?” Nie Mingjue’s voice was obviously worried, “You should have asked to rearrange”

Lan Xichen acknowledged he’d just come off a double shift with a nod, “It’s fine, it’s so hard to sync our schedules it might be weeks before we’re able to meet again, and you said you wanted to talk to me”

Was it Lan Xichen’s faulty, tired brain or did Nie Mingjue look worried now?

“Why don’t you ask your family for help Xichen, you can’t keep working yourself like this”

“I’m fine, my Uncle made it clear if I decided to follow a career in medicine and not in the family company I was on my own. I’m fine with that; I’ve proved I’m more than capable of managing on my own, haven’t I? Why would I go back now just to make it easier? He’d just throw another ultimatum at me, and I’ve worked too hard to throw all this away”

Nie Mingjue reached across the table and took Lan Xichen’s hand, a move that stunned Lan Xichen into stillness.

“You’ve amazed me for as long as I’ve known you, Xichen. You are so strong and driven and determined to succeed its inspiring. You must know how I feel about you Xichen, that I’ve loved you for a long time and want to be with you”

***

Meng Yao laid out on his bed and scowled up at the ceiling. He felt an unfamiliar, knotted tension in his stomach, one which had formed virtually from the moment Nie Mingjue had told him he intended to ask Lan Xichen to start dating him finally, after years of being in love with the clueless himbo.

The thought had bothered Meng Yao so much he was unable to pretend he didn’t have the same feelings for Lan Xichen any longer, despite swearing for as long as he could remember his personal creed was that love was a destructive, dependant emotion he had no intention of experiencing himself.

Well the joke was on him.

He wanted so much to be happy for his friends; Lan Xichen deserved to be cherished and there was no doubt Nie Mingjue did, and would.

But he selfishly wanted to be the person to do it.

He threw an arm across his eyes and groaned in frustration.

He had to act happy for Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue; no one was ever going to find out about these stupid feelings.

But the idea of spending the following years on the outside, watching their happiness and contentment grow made him feel physically sick.

He heard the door and shot upright on his bed; he hadn’t expected Lan Xichen to be back so soon. Was he really going to have to go out there now and pretend happiness for the new couple so soon?

He could always pretend to be asleep. Then leave the country tomorrow morning.

But eventually morbid curiosity won out and he made his way quietly to the sitting room. He was surprised to find Lan Xichen sat there, alone, with a shell-shocked expression on his tired face.

He went to sit next to him, curious.

“So, Mingjue-xiong…”

Lan Xichen quickly glanced at him, “You knew?” he asked carefully and Meng Yao nodded.

“You could do so much worse, Mingjue-xiong loves you, he has such a promising career, he’s good looking, you get on well with Huaisang…” he ticked off the reasons on his fingers.

“I said I didn’t know. It threw me completely-” if anyone else had said that Meng Yao would have thought they were being deliberately coy but Lan Xichen really was that clueless about the other people’s feelings for him, “-I had thought…I mean I hoped…I didn’t really think of Mingjue-xiong like that before” he finished lamely, but Meng Yao was a quick, intelligent creature and he divined the implication before he even had time to assess what it meant.

“So you told him you didn’t know…”

“I…”

“If someone else were to ask you. Lets say me for example, would you have known how to answer me?” he didn’t give Lan Xichen time to form his sentence, or his thoughts.

“I…” Lan Xichen turned paler, if it was possible.

He moved in one fluid motion, sliding astride Lan Xichen’s lap and pressing him against the back of the sofa with his hands on his shoulders.

“The very fact you said to Nie Mingjue that you didn’t know, the fact you couldn’t just tell him yes, means no. He’ll realise this too, he’s not stupid”

“Get out of my head, Meng Yao!” Xichen caught Meng Yao’s wrists but made no move to push him away.

“Never, it’s where I belong. It should always be full of me and only me. If I said I loved you, would you know how to answer me?” he asked again and he saw the resistance in Lan Xichen’s eyes crumble.

#prompts #xiyao #meng yao #lan xichen #modern au #nie mingjue #mdzs fanfic #mdzs #mdzs fic #shay's stuff #lmk if you're cool with it being gifted on AO3 too #never just want to assume!

[cherrytart-ffxiv]

idontwannabeyouanymore

[[ Warning: This piece contains heavy domestic abuse, and heavily implied child abuse, along with the trafficking of a minor, suicidal ideation, and brief rape mention. Please read at your own discretion. ]] 

"Stop! Get off of me!” 

My screams rumble through the decrepit farmhouse, fallen into more disrepair than ever since my father’s passing. Half of the windows have glass that is shattered. The other half are so old that no amount of scrubbing makes them easy to see through. I try my best to keep the house clean, especially the room that had belonged to my mother. This is the only pristine area, the only place I really put up a fight about anyone else entering.

Not that they ever do. Connor and my grandparents had no affection for my mother. The only memory I have of fighting my grandmother out of the room-- the one that got the most sunlight, with the most perfect view of the sea-- was after my mother had passed. I was only six, but I howled when she went through what few worldly goods my mama had to sell them. I remember them vividly; the jade earrings, the gold and diamond ring she told me was not from my father and would not expand any further on, the expensive silk kimono that mama never got to wore but cherished. 

At least her old pink cardigan had no monetary value. 

Now, though, the old hag has me pinned to the dusty couch. It was one of her “good” days, or as I liked to call them, the days she stopped pretending to be too frail and sick to get herself out of bed. It was strange that her good days never coincided with the ones where I had plans. They only ever happened on the days I seemed to feel well, rare as they were. 

In her gnarled hands are a pair of rusty scissors. Her awful, yellow teeth are bared at me as she holds them over my head. Despite her hate and general evil fueling her, I’m younger. I’m stronger. Gasping, I throw the bitch off of me... onto the couch, rather than onto the floor. It’s better than she deserves. 

“Come here!” she screeches like a banshee at my retreating back. “You think you get to wear that pretty crown of hair? After the exploits of you whoring all around the village reached my ears? I will NOT have you disobeying me in my own home, you little slut!” 

It wasn’t my fault. It isn’t my fault! Please-- Please... No...!

I am sprinting for the door, a hand desperately reaching to wrench it open. Not fast enough. Screaming bloody murder as hands grab me from behind, I thrash. I slam my fists, kick my feet, as my brother grunts and hauls me over his shoulder. My grandfather walks by the scene with glassy eyes, not even sparing me a cursory glance to make sure that I was okay. Not even taking half a moment to register what was happening. He had a strict schedule to adhere to, of course. It was three o’clock. That meant it was time for tea, no matter the chaos that was happening in his living room. 

“Pin her down, Connor,” Elizabeth Wells pants as I feel my back hit the couch again, nose scrunching in instinct at the scent of mold in the fabric. Dust puffs up around me, and the floor creaks. I snarl up at the old witch, my eyes boring into my face as I feel the all-too-familiar weight of my older brother pressing down on my body. I hate her. I hate her.

I hate her stiff silver hair, like steel wool, gathered at the nape of her neck. I hate her cold blue eyes. I hate the way she looks at me, like I am trash. Like I am scum. The way she looks at Connor, you’d think he hung the stars in the sky. He is my nightmare. He is the most evil creature I know, and our grandmother dotes upon him. Birds of a feather, I suppose. 

With a vicious hand, my grandmother gathers my sheet of hair - so long that it fell to my waist - in her fist, yanking on it until I cry out, until I feel strands of it being ripped by the follicle from my scalp. The woman pulls it as taut as she can while I try to push Connor off of me, but he’s bigger. He’s stronger. And I am an underfed girl, wailing as I try to free myself. A punishment. A punishment for something I was forced to do. How was this fair? In what world was this okay? 

The door bangs open again, just as I feel the blade of the rusty scissors pressing close against my scalp. Hiccuping, I look up, praying that it might just be the handsome prince I’d spent my younger years dreaming of. A handsome prince with armor and a sword that would whisk me away from all of this, away from my brother and my grandparents, to take me somewhere I... belonged. I knew I didn’t belong with these people who had so much loathing for me. And when I asked my grandmother why she hated me, our throats both raw from screaming at each other, cups and plates broken from our fight, she only ever offered me one simple response with venom dripping from her thin lips:

“You are just like that Far Eastern whore that seduced my son.” 

The man that walks through is no prince, and I actually wail in sorrow, in emotional agony. No, this is not my savior. This is the man that put me here in this position to begin with. This is the man that negotiated the price of me with Connor, with Elizabeth, with glassy-eyed old Jack. 

The price, I remember, had not been high.

“Good,” Elizabeth panted as she straightened up. “Alfie, come here. This defiant little wretch will make me cut her face if she keeps squirming. Take her arms while Connor takes her legs. Far too strong for such a little slip of a brat...”

Alfie raises a single eyebrow, leaning against his cane while his eyes look me over. Storm gray. Icy. He gives me a look that he thinks is one of pity, but I know better. I’m not stupid. He’s amused. Loosing a dramatic sigh, he approaches and strips off his leather gloves while Connor pants, shifting to pin my bare legs down against the sofa. In the kitchen doorway, I see Jack passing by like a spirit, gray and hollow, back up the stairs to his and Elizabeth’s bedroom. 

“Please don’t-- please, Alfie--” I hate that I beg. I hate that he likes it.

“I am not your guardian, Audrey,” he remarks, glancing down at me as he pins my arms above my head. “And thus I cannot interfere with how your grandmother chooses to discipline you. Admittedly, I think she’s doing the right thing. You and I -- all of us -- we had a little secret to keep, didn’t we? And you didn’t use all the discretion I told you to use, did you? No... No, you didn’t. Hair grows back, child. Stop your screaming and be still.” 

His hands are a vice around my wrists. I stare at the ceiling - at anywhere but him - as tears overflow from my eyes, falling hot against my cheeks. The scissors press against my scalp again, and I shut my eyes tightly as I hear the first cut through my silken locks. But the scissors are old, and my hair is thick. It goes slowly, with my grandmother muttering curses beneath her breath. I can feel how choppy it is, can feel the weight falling from my head, hear it falling onto the old, worn wooden floor. 

Snip. Snip. Snip. 

After the first few cuts, I stop struggling. Connor and Alfie don’t let me go. I don’t know which of them is more pleased to be overpowering me, to be sinking their hands into my skin while I weep and bite back the urge to beg more. And finally... Finally, it is over. They release me. I don’t stand right away. 

It feels as if I’ve been raped. Not in the traditional sense, no. But they had gloated in my lack of power. They had exploited. And they had taken from me. I feel limp and cold. It’s just hair, isn’t it? But it was my hair. I knew what it meant to have one’s hair cut like this in the Far East. I was disgusting. I was dishonorable. Maybe it was a mercy that my grandmother wielded the scissors and not me. After the past few months... I don’t trust that I wouldn’t have used them to make sure I never woke. 

It didn’t help that this was the anniversary of my mother’s death.

When I do stand, I run. No one tries to stop me this time. I run out the door and to the back of the house, my limbs and eyes searing. Doubling over, hands on my thighs, I let myself sob and gasp for breath all at once. Shaking hands eventually come to run through my hair... and I fall to my knees. There was barely anything left. It had been cropped, choppily, to my scalp. Years and years and years of growth, only to have it removed as punishment. 

It was the nail in the coffin that affirmed that I no longer had any autonomy over my body. I had lost that when my grandmother and Connor shook hands with the serpent, with the devil in fine clothing.

“You’ll wear wigs until it grows to an acceptable length,” Alfie tells me as I walk, numbly, back into the farmhouse. “And then we’ll bleach all that black out and turn it red. Pretty, right? I know you’re upset, Audrey... But you disobeyed. This is to make sure you know who knows best, and that is your elders.”

I stare at him, emotionless. He is standing in my kitchen. Grandmother and Connor are nowhere to be seen. Alfie approaches me slowly, gripping my chin between his long, cold fingers and smiling his serpent’s smile, sadly. He is a good actor. I almost believe that he feels bad, that time. 

“Hair grows,” he reminds me again, gently. “You were too pretty with all of it. It made me jealous, to see how men looked at you with those long, shiny locks. You don’t want to be too pretty, Audrey. Then no one will take you seriously. Be a good girl. I’ll be back tomorrow with some wigs to pick from, and then we can go out for lunch. Whatever you’d like.”

He leaves. I catch sight of myself in one of the windows that’s old rather than broken, and my bottom lip starts to tremble again. I hadn’t been too pretty. I had been nowhere close to pretty. I was disgusting. And now... I was even more wretched than I was before. Tears stream down my face again.

But there is a pile of dishes in the sink, and they won’t clean themselves. I turn away from the window. There are other tasks at hand I must do if I don’t want something else that’s precious to be taken away.

#writing #ffxiv stories #ffxiv #ffxiv rp #child abuse tw #human trafficking tw #domestic abuse tw

[lokikingofasgardslover713]

Inktober Day 30: Jolt 2

Masterlist

Inktober 2018 Masterlist

Part 1

Loki Laufeyson x Plus!Size Reader MORRIGAN

Warnings: SMUT!!!!! PART 2!

A/N: I hope I did this justice once more! @moonfaery! Also used a song in this one, The Night We Met by: Lord Huron I just really like this song and for some reason felt that it would work here. I hope the smut is to your liking and I didn’t hurry it!

Words:+2,000

The moment the two stepped into the room, Bucky was sure to step up to Y/N, taking her arm in a red suit with devil horns on his head, asking for her to join him for a drink. A flicker of annoyance flashing across the gods face, thinking of grabbing HIS Morrigan & rushing back to their room to show her just how he felt about the revealing outfit. Swallowing his pride, acting as though nothing was wrong, like always. Surprised as several women  he only knew where agents came up to speak with him & swearing that Y/N looked around black wings to glare at the two.

“May I have a dance beautiful Morrigan,” Thor spoke in her ear, laying a warm hand on bare shoulder as she stood talking with Steve and Bucky.

The fate having been watching the agents carefully that continued to follow Loki around like lost puppies, even making the one closest to Loki trip with seidr before turning to Thor, not wanting to witness the glare she knew he would shoot her way.

“Yes,” Y/N began.

It was still early, Y/N gladly taking the gods hand, sure to let her seidr travel around the two invisibly so Loki wouldn’t trip the older god up. Thor was dressed in a golden tux that greatly commented his lengthening hair & made Y/N smile uncontrollably up at him.

Loki was helping the woman up who had fell to her ass, glaring over & Y/N to silently curse her for keeping her seidr around the men to prevent retaliation. For once the god of mischief thinking that he had enough & craving to head back to their room to sulk in silence. Sure, the goddess would be staying somewhere other than their bed tonight. Though it seemed he couldn’t make himself leave, watching thick curves move to the music as his oaf of a brother moved with her across the floor.

Light on her feet, following along to the beat of the music, but relieved it was over, bowing down to the golden god, Y/N excused herself to go back to the bar for a quick drink before calling it a night. The fate tired of playing this game, thinking she wanted to just go to bed, alone, taking note the lights dimmed as she stepped away, glancing around raven wings, then back in time to stop herself from slamming into Loki.

“May I have a dance from the pretty Morrigan,” Loki began, giving a genuine smile but didn’t get to finish, the fate allowing Sam to pull her back to the floor as he stepped up behind her, hatred flashing in his eyes as he took the hand back.

Following Sam, Y/N took a quick glance back to look at Loki, but he was gone, this time cursing at herself for how stupid this game was becoming & vowing after all this was over that she was going to go speak with him.

Finding herself walking down the quiet Avengers corridor once Sam had released her, taking her time getting to the room they had been sharing. Taking a deep breath before stepping in quietly, wings gone & taking a step in on bare feet. Searching the dark room, pausing when a quiet song began to play, one that one other would have known she had taken to.

I am not the only traveler

Who has not repaid his debt

I've been searching for a trail to follow again

Take me back to the night we met

“Do you think it would be possible that we share a dance,” a cool voice spoke behind her, cool hands ghosting soft biceps as they traveled down to ample hips, stepping back as she turned, Y/E/C orbs sparkling with starry night seidr, while emerald  eyes sparkled with iridescent green.

And then I can tell myself

What the hell I'm supposed to do

“I believe so,” she began, allowing Loki to take steady hands as he wanted.

The god gently guiding her around the room effortlessly, it was odd, different from the times before that he had asked her dance, the extravagant balls the two crashed didn’t compare to this instant.

And then I can tell myself

Not to ride along with you

Y/N’ eyes sparking as she coaxed his seidr with her own, smirking as he finally relented & allowed it to tangle in a golden shimmer as it mixed and swirled.

I had all and then most of you

Some and now none of you

“I used to question why you like this song, but now I understand, it has a beautiful rhythm,” Loki hushed as she hummed in agreement, watching close as he leaned nearer, lips dangerously close this time.

Take me back to the night we met

I don't know what I'm supposed to do

Haunted by the ghost of you

A steady hand sneaking it's way to the nape of the raven-haired gods neck, cherishing under relaxed jaw as she searched his face for true fillings, surprised that he finally opened his thoughts, smiling like an excited little child.

Oh, take me back to the night we met

When the night was full of terrors

“Sorry that I teased you earlier,” Loki spoke on her lips, warm breath fanning over his to taste the mead on her breath, pupils swallowing Y/E/C irises.

And your eyes were filled with tears

When you had not touched me yet

Oh, take me back to the night we met

“Sorry I played their game, should have known better,” Y/N smiled, the two finally slowing, Loki pulling her closer.

I had all and then most of you

Some and now none of you

“Am I still just your traveling companion,” Y/N smiled up at the god that was pulling tighter, filing the growing… problem between them through the thin teddy.

Take me back to the night we met

I don't know what I'm supposed to do

Unable to stop herself from rutting at him, showing need, even voicing it with a moan on his lips the moment a rumble left his chest & the Morrigan swallowed it down.

Haunted by the ghost of you

Take me back to the night we met

“Take me to bed,” Y/N spoke on his lips, the god all to happy to push their lips together as they collapse back onto velvet sheets, thick thighs spreading willingly as he kneeled between them, cursing the teddy for being too tight & teasing.

With a thought, the Morrigan had herself undressed & laying bare under the god. Loki pausing to pull away & look down at the curvaceous creature that laid under him. Hands releasing the hold he had kept since the dance, one hand gliding down naked side to disappear between thick thighs to send a jolt of pleasure to her brain.

Ample hips bucking at the touch as nimble fingers gathered slick from already dripping cunt, dipping into the velvet rim before moving back up to in circle a begging clit that throbbed for attention. Unable to stop himself from leaning down to exposed throat to kiss it as her head was thrown back into the sheets. The fate fisting them as he finally pushed two digits in, grinding tented pants into his own hand as he thrust into her, nipping at the soft flesh under her ear.

“Your teasing mischief,” Y/N breathed out in a raspy moan, head falling forward to look at the god who removed curling fingers, the woman beneath him whimpering at the loss, but quick to replace it with the head of leaking cock, having disrobed himself with his seidr while she had buried her head into the mattress.

“Me? Oh no little raven, I believe you tease,” he smirked, slowly pushing in as she wiggled to hurry him along, strong hands gripping bruising to plump hips to still her.

“What’s the matter? You're not close already,” Y/N teased, trying to move, to force him to seat quicker but he wasn’t allowing it.

“Don’t flatter yourself little raven,” he joked, finally having enough himself to slam hard into teasing cunt that clinched, this time making a jolt of pleasure go straight up both spines to needy cores that already shook & begged for release.

“Please… Loki… move baby,” Y/N moaned out, trying to buck but he still held tight, filling how tight she was.

‘I don’t want to hurt you….,’ he spoke in her mind, making a shiver go through her that he was trying to be gentle, the burn & stretch overridden by ecstasy.

“You want, please move,” she breathed out in answer to his worry she felt, slowly beginning to move in & out of soaking core, letting out his own grunt of pleasure when the god released thick hips to let her buck.

Rubbing delicate nerve to chase the quickly building release, hands going to the nape of his neck to pull cool lips to parched ones, both deepened the kiss with a tangle of tongues, a bucking of hips & primal sounds of need. They had waited to long to let each other know how they felt, it had been to long period, but no more.

Loki releasing puffy lips to trail gentle kisses between ample breast that arched up to him, begging to be attended to. The god all to happy to palm one, calloused thumb toying with the hardened nub to attack the other harshly by sucking it into cool mouth, grazing it with sharp teeth to elicit a moan of pleasure from parched lips.

“Fuck… Loki… I can’t….,” Y/N rasped out, bucking harder, filing cool fingers dip between wet folds to find delicate nerve & press into it, rubbing gentle circles to help hasten her release.

“Then by all means lover, come undone for me,” Loki breathed out, cool breath fanning over sweat damp chest, looking up into hazing eyes, reaching into her mind to feel it build as he allowed her to feel his own, adding to the thrill of the chase.

“Loki…,” Y/N whimpered, hands falling to taught hips that slammed hard into throbbing cunt, digging nails into flesh & the god swearing she broke skin when it took them both.

It was like falling from the Bifrost once again, except instead of dread it was bliss, vision fading out as the two let go of everything but for each other. A whimper, a grunt, a stuttering of hips as both came undone around each other, walls crumbling & loud cursing prayers of release echoed around the room.

Loki falling to sweat slicked skin, placing a sloppy kiss to the hollow of panting throat, hands moving under thick torso to pull shaking body flush to his as he continued to throb inside clinching cunt to keep from sliding out as he rolled to his back, bringing the breathless creature to lay on his chest a panting mess.

Gentle caresses pushing wild hair out of blissed out face, Y/N smiling drunkenly at him, shaky hands moving up to cup cool cheeks & sitting up on toned chest to look down into emerald eyes that danced with the golden light of THEIR seidr. Pressing quivering lips together in a gentle kiss that meant more to the two than the passionate one before.

“Stay here with me love…,” Loki breathed out when they released, watching a smile creep across her face.

“Why, Mr. Laufeyson, are you inviting me to share your bed,” Y/N smiled, relishing in how gently their seidr danced through their minds.

“No, not inviting, stating the obvious, I want you by my side love. I want you to stay by my side, as my Sigyn,” he spoke out, recalling back to the discussion they had about the meaning of the name & how he couldn’t understand why the mortals took it as him having such a… god to call that.

“You want to be my Arthur,” she chuckled at the comparison, he knew how she despised legends.

“No, I want you for my queen,” he smiled, hands going to thick waist.

“Hmm, a queen, something I haven’t been called in a long time, my dear trickster,” Y/N smiled happily at his choice of words.

“You will stay then?”

“For how long?”

“Well… I don’t know, how long do fates usually live,” he laughed.

“Longer than you, Viking,” she laughed pecking his lips.

“Then that should suffice,” he breathed out, hands moving to the nape of sweaty neck to press their lips together bruisingly, tongues tangling to seal the promise.

Tags open! And re-blogs are ALWAYS welcomed!

Tags: @dark-night-sky-99  @prettybubblesintheair  @gramaeryebard  @reallyheckinggay  @jovanna-shewolf  @andiyholly  @katstablook   @nickyl316h  @beets1bears1battlestargalactica @aslandia726 @moonfaery @furstinnajoelle   @itsbqueenthings

@whovianwookie86-captainxev@jazzieomega

#inktober #loki laufeyson #loki fanfic #loki x ofc #loki (marvel) #loki #loki x plus size reader #loki smut

[0athbounded]

Kh3 drawing ideas

I’ve been writing any burning ideas I want to draw/write after playing kh3 so I decided to share. If you wanna use any then just tag me cause I wanna see and reblog!

1. [Moogle, speaking to Sora] So you got access to a cook kupo?

[Moogle] *whispers* Hey I’m an even better cook. I got these enchanted for you, kupo. *holds out the +mackerel or whatever*

((Basically a prequel to the Scrooge and Moogle faceoff picture.))

2. SHOOTING STAR/HONEYPOT KEYBLADE

WHY AIM WHEN YOU HAVE HEAT TRACKING PROJECTILES

GETS YOURS TODAY (caution: Honeypot keyblade May or May not include bees and cause the battlefield to be very sticky.)

((Aimed to be some sort of commercial. Maybe MoM or Tigger would advertise))

3. Sora in the Last World surrounded by stars.

((Just a scene I wanted to redraw))

4. Chamber of severance: Is this a TribeTwelve Reference????

((Severance is the name of a very important symbol in this web series that I grew up with. It basically can hack into humans and any sort of godly creature if used right.))

5. Eraqus: It’s time to stop!

((This is stupid but the ending was also stupid so if something is stupid enough I will want to draw it))

6. “Oh baby a triple” but it’s the vs. three Xehanorts fight

((This is also stupid but like. Who’s gonna stop me?))

7. Kairi sobbing that Sora is gone while the others comfort her, confused and worried

((It’s already been done a dozen times but I wanna include more characters this time))

8. Sora wearing native islander wear (feather earring is essential)

((I just... NEED Sora with a feather earring and I’ll make up the rest of clothes along the way))

9. Sora and Luxord getting along. Maybe playing board games or going back to their roots and playing very dangerous games like racing through a volcano on foot or something

10. Larium, to Sora at some point: I am searching for someone as well. Perhaps I could come with you?

((Maybe Larium won’t find Strelitzia so easily))

11. Kairi Naminé Olette and Xion dragging Aqua away so they could go shopping!!!

12. Joshua: Sora, could you help me?

Sora: Sure what is it?

Joshua :)

11. Roxas: When Sora comes back I’m gonna kick his ass >:/

Xion: After welcoming him back?

Roxas: An asskicking is welcome enough

12. Vanitas, to Roxas: You may look like Ventus and have some aspects of Sora...

But they’re reflections more than anything. Your heart is complete, and your power is your own.

Did you seriously think you were special because you could fuse with Sora? Anyone can do that. That’s just who he is. You just wore his body for a while.

You might as well be the same thing Xion is. A heart born in a vessel that was never truly your own...

((I thought, ‘what if Vanitas tells Roxas that Roxas’s heart isn’t connected to anyone anymore?’ His wording here may be edited a lot.))

13. Aqua, while Terra and Ven look on expectantly: Hey, Roxas... can I ask you something?

Roxas: Yeah? *inwardly* They’re going to ask why I look so much like Ven, right?

Aqua: How do you have two Keyblades? A person wielding two Keyblades has never been recorded, the Master never taught us about a single one *she says, as Roxas looks on blankly.*

Roxas: *Flashbacks to Xion’s disappearance*

Roxas: *puts on a smile* I can’t seem remember exactly when, I guess I got lucky.

((I can’t help but think that the newfound memory of when Roxas got two keyblades is very painful for him.)))

14. Vanitas and the Noise join together because the noise amplify negativity. The Trash Men decide to work together (The Grim Heaper and the Masked boy Noise combo!)

((Vanitas needs a vessel to revive, and when Sora makes contact with Shibuya I bet Vanitas would fit right in energy-wise. Maybe the Grim Heaper could be his vessel/proxy/whatever.))

15. Joshua’s the heart of the world. If Shibuya ends so does he. Neku is there so is Sora.

((These two find that by wanting to destroy Shibuya, Joshua was also seeking death.))

16. Xemnas and Ryo solidarity!

(([DEVILMAN Crybaby spoilers] Ryo, or Satan, and Xemnas realize too late how much they wanted people by their side and discover loneliness for what it truly is.))

17. Vanitas’s experience with the trash king and the preppy girl (reaper)

((Coco, Sho, and Vanitas would be quite the combo))

18. Coco takes Sora’s price.

((I have a lot of fun thinking about what Sora cherishes the most, and how he’d handle losing it.))

[pilferingapples]

I'm going to be predictable and ask for Bahorel because I love your headcanons for him, unless someone else has already asked, in that case Combeferre? :D

Sorry this took a while but you DID ask for the whole 25 questions! so OKAY here goes : 

1) Something this character is truly proud of.

His reputation! Not the  "woe a cannibal savage bouzingo romanticist" thing that certain papers (laughing at you, Figaro) go on about; he IS happy about that, but mostly that's just funny.   But the one he's earned with the circles he cares about, for being the person who Knows Everybody and who can Get Those Connections, a central hub in the radical republican network--that he’s proud of. He's built that up over years of  Going Everywhere and Talking to Everyone and honing the kind of social smarts that make that a sustainable life, and he's very satisfied about it.

cut because this is Super Long: 

2) Who they want to please the most.

...himself, honestly.  Not in a hedonistic way (though that too) but he has a fairly complicated set of internal ethical standards that are often kind of at weird angles to most of the world, and he'd consciously rather stick to that than "please" anyone else. Iiiiit's a whole Romantic Thing. 

3) Who depends on them.

 In the usual way people expect a man of his era to be Depended On? No one. His family's fine, he's not married or anything like it, no one's going to have their material security destroyed if he dies or Vanishes for Mysterious Reasons (which are Going to Prison or Fleeing the Country to avoid the prior two outcomes). 

But a whole lot of people depend on him to organize, stir up trouble, ringlead, cajole, exist distractingly and generally do what he does.

4) What they would do if they had one month to live.

Unlike some  people, who seem to think that they don’t  have limited lifespans, Bahorel is already living his Best Life and doing everything he most wants to do or thinks will mean the most for The Future After Him.  Things he hasn't done yet are things where the timeline's not up to just him. 

5) A cherished personal belongingLeaving aside the Correspondence Chest, he has an old *very* beat-up illustrated book of fairy tales.  An uncle who couldn't read picked it up way back when Bahorel was a kid, and he couldn't read either,  and he and his siblings used to make up endless stories  about the pictures before they could read. The chance to figure out what stories went with those pictures was much of what made Bahorel put up with school as a kid. ...and then they realized the damn thing wasn't in French at all, but an old beat up import, so he would have to learn another language.   Which he did, eventually;  but really he keeps it for the joke and the memory of the stories it isn't. 

6) Something they lost, but would love to have back

Various security deposits, fines for Disorderly Behavior, and so on. Fairly lost, well spent, but it would be a  nice night out to have them back nonetheless! 

...Also, you know, THEIR  **CENSORED CENSORED CENSORED** STOLEN REVOLUTION BACK. THAT WOULD BE NICE. *

7) This character’s favorite character

HOW COULD HE EVER CHOOSE, OH CRUEL FATE. The Creature from Frankenstein, Hercules, Orlando, Hans of Iceland (HE HAS A POLAR BEAR) , Puss in Boots, that’s not EVEN getting to Shakespeare... (he can go on about all of them, and will. No one asks him these sorts of questions anymore.) 

8) What kind of car they would drive.

...a Fury. 

9) What calms them when they are upset.

Calm....when upset? like calm down? How DARE you suggest such a thing, how could  you. You're clearly the sort of bloodless monster who'd douse a candle when it's almost melted away, 

10) How they deal with pain.

Minor Pain that’s Annoying but Not Obviously Fatal:  Ennnndlessss yelling and cursing and cheerfully overblown complaining, often with metaphors. No one has ever suffered so. the realm of the Physical has betrayed  him,What Sort of God Makes Such a Cruel Treacherous World With Tables Viciously Lurking At Shin Height, Like Snakes In The Forest, etc. Pain that Is Actually A Problem and Maybe Indicating Something Lethal: he’s fine this is FINE, get out of the way Combeferre, he needs to Fight Everything before the blood loss makes him pass out ok

(There is also a Third Reaction , because Intense Sensation is Intense Sensation, but he really needs to be in the right mood and the right company for that.)

(The Right Company can be a rioting crowd or The Really Good Architecture,that works) 

11) This character’s favorite piece or pieces of clothing.

 He likes his red waistcoats! The more alarmingly outgoing the lapels, the better.  And if they really worry some people, he can always take them off, and then whose idea is it that he’s naked this time? Not his,clearly, CHECK AND MATE, BOURGEOIS. 

12) How they sleep. Like someone who spent his Formative Years sharing a room and sometimes limited beds with a large and mischief-ready army of siblings, which is to say soundly, but not so soundly that he won’t be awake and punching in a heartbeat if his Prank Sense gets activated. 

13) What kind of parent they would be.

A pretty enthusiastic one!He likes kids, he doesn't mind noise and mess, he's pretty much at the point of being Ready to train the Next Generation of  revolutionary hellions  (he'd be an enthusiastic parent, and an affectionate one, and even a reasonably responsible one, but like hell he'd ever be a Respectable one.) 

14) How they did in school

It was an exercise in not just frustration but rage, for both him and most of his teachers. Not because he couldn't understand the material--he understood fine-- but because he wouldn't (couldn't) stop arguing about it. He and Combeferre have had many unusually mutual ranting sessions about what Total Garbage it is that Teachers These Days won't engage Young Minds in a Little Honest Debate, MAYBE if you can't DEFEND your stupid history lesson to an eleven year old you need to reconsider your own ideas, DID YOU EVER THINK OF THAT, MASTER DUCHEMIN? 

15) What cologne or perfume they would useProbably just the scented powders/pomades type stuff.  He goes for jasmine and lavender (he's still well in the era of men's bath goods smelling like flowers). 

16) Their sexuality

...like many other Romantics, goes a good ways beyond just Mortal Flesh and into the realms of Landscapes and The Concept of Rose Windows With The Right Lighting and *ecstatic swoon*  REALLY DARING POETIC METAPHORS AND STREETS IN REBELLION *discretionary fade to black*

17) What they’d sing at karaoke

CCR, ABBA, old school Cash-and-Haggard era country, Black Sheep, So Many Journey Songs, any showtunes, Rob Zombie...just whatever, whatever's the Mood, sung  with shameless enthusiasm

18) Special talents they have

**censored**  **censored**  **censored**  **censored**  and he can really belt out a tune! He's got a great singing voice, even when **censored**  **censored** **censored**  **censored** 

19) When they feel safest...Law School. Because it’s basically indistinguishable from being a corpse,and a corpse is quite safe; nothing more terrible can happen to it, it will never know or care if injury or outrage is done to it, and yet it makes everyone else uncomfortable with both its taunting resemblance to a living person and its remarkable smell, much like their good professors.  LIFE IS RISK, SAFETY IS DEATH, DON'T DO THIS TO HIM. 

20) Household chore they hate the most

Back home? Cleaning the Chicken Coop, and anyone who has ever cleaned a chicken coop knows why. In Paris? Dishes. CURSE THEM. 

21) Their fondest childhood memory

One time he took up some other kids on a dare to Spend The Night In The Graveyard and that ...actually got kind of boring kind of fast, and a significant portion of those buried there were his relatives anyway and he can’t be scared of family,  geez. But when he’d been up there a few hours/ forever,geez an Actual Wolf loped through like three feet in front of him, and stopped and looked at him for a  while before moving on, and that  was awesome . 

22) How they spend their money.

Like it will give him a rash if he has it for too long. 

23) What kind of alcohol they drink

Good Alcohol?  Alcohol That Is One Fire, sometimes?  All The Kinds? any of these answers are correct! 

24) What they wish they could change about themselves

--He doesn't really have the full poetic Gift, at least not to his standards, and it's probably his only real disappointment with himself. He doesn't want to make a living with it or anything, he just wants to be able to look at things that way and doesn't quite. How exactly? If he could say *exactly* then he'd *be a poet*, obviously. 

25) What other people wish they could change about them

Even many people who love him and whose opinion he actually cares about somewhat would like it if he could maybe chill a little, ever, about anything. (He can't , it's not gonna happen, Frenetic's not a phase, Mom, it's Who He Is.)

* Some people may disagree that it was a Stolen Revolution, they may disagree to his face, he is completely prepared to discuss this topic at Epic Length. 

#Bahorel #this is Long but I WAS ASKED #firing the headcanons #Bahorel headcanons #long post #aflamethatneverdies

[sydas]

horizon zero dawn // inspired starters

❛ you know what? when we met, i thought i was a big shot talking to a pretty girl hidden away in the middle of nowhere. ❜    ❛ try not to forget about me while you're out there changing the world. ❜   ❛ i’m already under some heavy divine pressure. but i’ll try to live up to it. ❜   ❛ after all that’s happened, all you’ve done...i feel like i should drop to your knees and worship you. ❜ ❛ for you sake, i must go where you will never find me. this is goodbye. ❜   ❛ i'll always have a minute for you. maybe even two. ❜   ❛ i knew there was something about you. hammered from the stuff they make leaders out of. ❜   ❛ he’s smiling at us. ❜   ❛ i remember yelling that i didn't care. ❜   ❛ you have to use your smarts to count for something, to serve life, not death. ❜   ❛ if you had had a child, what would you have wished for him or her? ❜   ❛ do you really not hear how ridiculous that sounds?  ❜   ❛ confidence is quiet. you’re not.  ❜   ❛ ha. it was just an instant, but i knew. i knew we'd be forever. ❜   ❛ i've done all i can. from here on out, the rest is up to you. ❜   ❛ there's so much more to discover before the world ends.   ❜   ❛ the way you smiled...i had to look away or you were going to see. on my face. what had just... blossomed inside me, you know? ❜   ❛ as it turned out, it was your world all along. i was merely... trespassing. ❜   ❛ you just can't leave me alone, can you? ❜   ❛ turn your face to the sun. ❜ ❛ why is it, every time something terrible happens, everyone tells you the worst thing that ever happened to them, as though that makes it easier? ❜   ❛ no ---- you don’t need to bow. ❜   ❛ the strength to stand alone is the strength to make a stand. ❜   ❛ what’s that now? don’t like the cold? ❜   ❛ welcome to my ravine of death.  ❜ ❛ keep moving or you’ll die!  ❜         ❛ hey. my eyes are up here.  ❜   ❛ you defeated it...alone?  ❜   ❛ today i speak your name - but will the goddess speak it back? ❜ ❛ you must be humble and respect their power. ❜   ❛ i'm here and wherever you go, i will follow. ❜   ❛ even a king can learn his lesson. ❜   ❛ we can still have a party, right? sure we can. ❜   ❛ what is that on your face? ❜   ❛ the wilds can be dangerous. you need to stay close and do as i say. ❜ ❛ so? what do you say? how about we try and kill each other?  ❜   ❛ you’re still scratched up from the fall you did yesterday. ❜   ❛ what do you think i’m doing? taking a nap?  ❜   ❛ guess we can’t have everything.  ❜   ❛ so that’s what this is? a tantrum? a cry for attention?  ❜   ❛ never celebrate a victory before it’s earned. ❜   ❛ you’re bleeding. let me have a look. ❜   ❛ you’re an idiot. a dangerous idiot..but an idiot.  ❜   ❛ you were only chosen because you were a fool, too stupid to realize you were being used. ❜   ❛ not everyone follows the law like you do. ❜   ❛ take this, to ... remember. ❜ ❛ my fight. i can’t ask you to come with me. ❜ ❛ you survived! i thought you were killed. ❜ ❛ we have more important things to do than ask questions.  ❜   ❛ that could be the least creepy thing you’ve said to me.  ❜   ❛ rough going but you survived.  ❜        ❛ this attachment to me will only hold you back. ❜   ❛ you will turn back - or bleed. your choice. ❜   ❛ you can sense it. you already know you’re going to lose. ❜   ❛ i need to catch a breath.  ❜   ❛ you know, i often think of the day i gave you that scar. it’s a cherished memory. ❜   ❛ are you going to shut your mouth? because that would be a surprise. ❜ ❛ it’s time to make your first kill. ❜   ❛ why are you talking like we’ll never see each other again? ❜   ❛ you can be a real lard sometimes. cut it out. ❜   ❛ i’m not afraid of you. i’m not afraid of anything. ❜   ❛ now if you’ll excuse me, i’m going to get some sleep. i plan to be well rested when i run you into the ground tomorrow. ❜ ❛ not all comforts are bad. ❜   ❛ better dead last than dead altogether. ❜   ❛ no witnesses! no survivors! ❜   ❛ are you crazy? you’re going to kill yourself! ❜   ❛ i suppose you leave that part out of the story when you tell it, don’t you? ❜ ❛ ugly and ancient? like your mother? ❜ ❛ to answer for what i’ve done, the lives i’ve ruined? yes. i am ready. ❜   ❛ they can’t shoot if they’re dead. ❜   ❛ hello, old friend. remember me? ❜ ❛ i’m more than a threat. ❜    ❛ i don’t think either you or i are ready for that. at least not yet. ❜   ❛ i'll take that lunch. alone. ❜   ❛ i could use someone like you by my side. ❜      ❛ we still have so much to discuss. so much you never revealed. ❜ ❛ you’re lucky i happened by. one half a heart beat more, and that creature would’ve torn you in half. ❜  ❛ i crave vengeance, do you? ❜ ❛ a bold claim. i wonder if you’ll live up to it. ❜   ❛ hmm. i love your hair. ❜   ❛ still alive. good. i have a more suitable death for you in mind. ❜   ❛ knowledge has its rewards, don’t you think? ❜ ❛ he was a better man than what you’d ever hope to be! ❜   ❛ i’ll remember those words when i watch your corpse burn. whatever’s left of it. ❜   ❛ i will not be worshiped! i don’t belong to you! ❜ ❛ impossible. i am chosen. this was not meant to be! ❜ ❛ you don’t approve? well, i have a secret for you. neither do i. ❜   ❛ well, to start, you’re strong, shrewd and capable.  ❜   ❛ we must be patient. change doesn’t come in a sunrise.  ❜   ❛ they tried to break me. shows what they know. ❜   ❛ i should have been with you. why didn’t you come for me? ❜   ❛ may the dawn find you, the day warm you, and the dusk have light to guide your path.  ❜   ❛ the better man is the one who doesn’t end up with their steaming guts on the ground. ❜ ❛ once one threat is dealt with, another one looms. ❜ ❛ if i live or die, they’ll call my name. ❜   ❛ i don’t usually fight if i don’t have to, but if i have to, i want to. ❜   ❛ we’ve only met a few times and yet you know me so well. ❜   ❛ i thought you just wanted tea and conversation. ❜   ❛ i wasn’t expecting to find a half clad soldier singing like a drunk.  ❜     ❛ you don’t hear me laughing.  ❜ ❛ i came prepared. have arrows enough to take down armies. ❜   ❛ it’s settled. i’ll fight by your side. my only request. ❜   ❛ the wrongness here jags at me like a ❜   ❛ tomorrow, may the sun rise on a better world. ❜       ❛ you can’t ask me to stand by and watch. not when i have the power. ❜     ❛ this isn’t home anymore. ❜   ❛ my will is like the oldest ice! ❜   ❛ your whole life was a failure, and soon no one will even remember you. ❜      ❛ will change happen, if men continue to live in palaces? ❜   ❛ i did say not to break anything, didn’t i?  ❜ ❛ you should sleep, if sleep comes.  ❜         ❛ i kept thinking of the moment my knife pierced your throat. one twist, a simple tug of the blade, and you would bleed out. ❜   ❛ how can you sleep, with a weight like that pressing on you? ❜   ❛ i'm not here to intrigue you. ❜   ❛ no more playing around. you’re going to have to grow up. ❜ ❛ no rest for the weary, huh? ❜   ❛ don’t worry. i’ll be there for you. ❜   ❛ to say you have my gratitude feels woefully insignificant. ❜  

#°｡ﾟﾟ ☀️ ┊ ( memes ) ᵇᵒʷ ᵈᵒʷᶰ. ❜ #i just completed this game & i'm : ((( #long post for ts /