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sunshine-in-a-bottle · 4 months

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SUDSPOTS RECOMMENDS DREAM-CENTRIC FICS: PART ONE MAYBE

Sorted by shipping because I'm a multishipper.

Its about the PASSION its about the INTRICACIES its about the EMOTIONAL DEVASTATION.

If a fic you like isn't on here I demand you make your own recommendations post so I can reblog it and then we ALL must go insane. You Understand? You understand. Lets fucking go, lets LOVE THE PEOPLE IN THIS COMMUNITY RIGHT NOW AND TELL THEM WHAT GOOD FUCKING WRITERS THEY ARE

DESCEND INTO MADNESS. ITS FOR THE GREATER GOOD.

DRUNZ WORKS BELOW

-non-explicit fics section-

our eternal love by janies_not_here. (Rated T)

Punz and Dream being in love and their last few moments together before the destruction of the server.

Personal thoughts: I love them. I would die for them. I care them so much.

Suffering by Airrec (Raichett). (Rated T)

“I,” Punz repeats, “am doing this one. You did lung removal, I’ll do heart.” They look at Dream squarely, determined, though their eyes are tight around the edges. No one likes dying, but they both know how important it is to know.

Personal thoughts: how to murder me emotionally. Its about the Intricacies its about the Unethical Science Murder Experiments.

science for sweethearts by silversandstone. (Rated T)

“His name is Punz?” “Yeah.” “I know him!” Sapnap exclaims, and he sounds entirely too excited for Dream’s liking. “He’s on the basketball team with me. Tall, blonde hair, blue eyes? Looks a little bit like he got thrown in the laundry by accident?” “He’s pretty,” Dream agrees miserably.

Personal thoughts: I am always a slut for modern AUs. I am bapping them with my little paws. Please kiss.

with arms unfolding by silversandstone. (Rated T) (series)

but here i am with arms unfolding i guess it isn't quite the end old partner in crime i'm going to try to fall in love with you again

Personal thoughts: PUNZ FINDING OUT ABOUT THE TORTURE. YESGOODPERFECT. THEM CARING ABOUT EACH OTHER. AAAAA

c!drunz living happily ever after by theendpoem. (Rated T) (series)

c!drunz headcanon written into short stories that follow them running away from the smp together and living happily ever after in a cabin

Personal thoughts: exactly what it says on the tin. I am a feral cat biting it biting it biting it

deadlines and commitments by sunnyscribe. (Rated G)

Dream doesn't know what he's looking for, but he finds it in Punz.

Personal thoughts: please imagine that gif of kermit spinning in a water fountain. They're taking a little nap together. They are in love.

i hope i don’t murder me, i hope i don’t burden you by nightdaydream. (Rated T)

Dream is dangerous, an enigma of a man. “So, what do you say?” Roses bloom in Punz’s lungs. They take a breath, choke them down, and return the grin that they’re sure Dream wears beneath his mask. “I’m in.” aka. punz suffers through hanahaki. it gets a lot worse before it gets better.

Personal notes: FUCK OFFFFFFFFF<=== is personally very emotional. Don't perceive me.

by his side where he belongs by ammizukii. (Rated T)

c!Dream shyfully proposes to c!Punz.

Personal notes: oh.

Just A Dip by Icechild. (Rated G)

It was meant to be just be a bath. It was supposed to be refreshing, healing, calming. It wasn't supposed to be Punz watching Dream pant and groan in pain. It wasn't supposed to end up with them realizing a blade was poisoned after it was too late. OR Punz and Dream have a bath time after a fight with the SMP and take care of each other and things go a little south.

Personal notes: I am eating concrete. I am throwing things. ITS ABOUT THE TRUST AND LOVE AND FEAR AND

love, like death, hath all destroyed by dumbgirlfriend (thelightwoods). (Rated T)

Punz and Dream have a quiet last meal before the end of the world, and Punz wants him.

Personal notes: dies a death (x40) hahahaha I love them what the fuck...

Steam by Airrec (Raichett). (Rated T)

There’s something almost ritualistic in the way Punz lathers soap onto Dream’s skin, their touch gentle but firm as they thumb at his flesh, their clipped nails dragging a little across his too-thin skin, careful not to worry at scabs or sores, but touching them anyway, keeping them clean. --- Or: post-Pandora, Dream's physical state is a bit too fragile for him to be able to bathe alone. Enter, stage left, Punz.

Personal notes: you think I'm normal right now but I'm actually clawing at the bars of my cage. Let me out I won't bite.

red slush and citrus shampoo by shamefulfroggos. (Rated T)

“Okay.” The two sit in silence for a few more beats before Punz drops his hand down to twist the keys and coax the engine back to life. It rumbles, faintly, and Dream watches from the corner of his eye as Punz puts the car in reverse and brings his arm up, his hand gripping the shoulder of Dream’s seat. His head turns so he can look through the back window as he pulls the car out of the parking space he turned into mere minutes ago. Dream tries not to stare. He doesn’t try very hard. -------------- or Dream has been in love with Punz for too long, Sapnap and George are tired of his shit, and Punz is a cinnamon roll who is trying to convey his feelings but failing

Personal notes: hnnnnnnn I'm gonna be honest with you I reread these fics before I put them on this post and this is making me go insane. They're so fucking in love shut the fuck upp

Not to Me, Not If It’s You by ranababamboo. (Rated T)

“Stop fussing over me.” “I will when your fever breaks,” they replied. They gestured to the stew, untouched aside from the near-spill. “Should eat that before it goes cold.” Dream rolled his eyes at the nagging. “What, gonna sit here and watch me until I do?” Punz merely raised an eyebrow. “...you’re the worst.” ——— Stubborn refusal of injury won’t slide in this household.

Personal notes: I hate them (I love them so much I am actively dying)

even when it’s raining by navyhurricane. (Rated T)

“You want to dance—” “In the rain,” Punz finishes for him, almost in a rush as though the idea has him breathless already. “C’mon, you can’t say that you have never in your life thought of it before.” Dream shakes his head softly. “Can’t say it’s high on my bucket list.”

For ruined plans and an opportunity saved, Dream has never known a love as soft as this; he knows that while he needs Punz, the other wants him in all the same ways.

Personal notes: hey do you ever feel like the chemicals in your brain just fucking change and shit while you read something because its good.

i wish to reclaim the rising by Airrec (Raichett). (Rated T)

Dream is quite happy with his life, despite his lack of memories, the scars and frailties of his body, and the numerous questions both raise. Then Punz, one of the gods of this world, saves his life, and it becomes clear that there is more to this - to them - than what can be seen on the surface. --- Or: it's a whole new world, and everyone deserves a chance to move on and make the most of the future. Punz has been waiting for theirs for... a long time.

Personal notes: I really wish I could just post memes and images instead of typing because I don't know how to communicate to you the level of Feral I am rn.

i miss the way you made me feel by WinterEnchantress. (Rated G)

Technoblade broke them up because duty always comes first, and he knows that the pain will never lessen, but at least he had the certainty that Dream was also...suffering. Because he's a selfish and petty man, deep inside, and he doesn't want to be lonely in his pain. Up until Dream found someone else. Up until Dream starts to heal, and all Techno can do is watch from the sidelines as Punz carefully puts broken pieces back together. All he has left is regret. or sad techno and broken up dnb + punz/dream being sweet as techno pines and suffers (:

Personal notes: !!!!!!! well thats fucked up and sad. fuck yeah lets go !!!!!!!

starshine after the longest night by voidofthestars. (Rated T)

They say almost, because there's so much missing from him, from weight loss from starvation to blatant mutilation, ears slashed and even tagged. And gods knew what else lies beneath his torn and ragged clothes. The moment Dream collapses into their arms and they close around him he keens, low and hurt like a dying animal in a cage. It's all Punz can do to keep them both upright even as Dream shakes in his arms, damaged hands scrabbling across his back and shoulders like he was afraid Punz wasn't actually there. "Holy shit, starshine, I've got you, you can't drop on me yet we're not safe yet." "Punz! Punz you're actually here! Haha, oh my god, I can't believe it!" Dream's voice cracks from emotion and disuse. It's painful to listen to, in more ways than one.

Personal notes: Don't fucking look at me don't perceive me I don't want to talk about it.

last cup of coffee by Luciddreaming_ (LucidDreamLight). (Rated T)

Local barista crushing on the cute college boy.

Personal notes: I don't have braincells anymore. Only them.

or should i walk by again? by Anonymous. (Rated T)

After Sapnap accidentally triple-books himself, he leaves his friends Dream and Punz to entertain each other at a boardwalk. This quickly spirals into a bet: Can you fall in love in one day?

Personal notes: what if... they kissed<=== absolutely deranged

green strings of magic by nightdaydream. (Rated M)

“You just work with him for money,” Quackity states, looking at Punz, and they want to laugh at how wrong the statement is. At first, sure; Dream was their client, and they were a mercenary. But as time passed, and they got closer, they came to trust Dream. And eventually, the golden ring on their finger and the matching one on the chain around Dream’s neck, hidden below his hoodie, came into play. “So, if he’s dead, which everyone else here wants anyways, you have no reason to carry out what he wants.” aka. Dream gets killed. Punz brings him back, because they’re a good partner like that.

Personal notes: they're MARRIED they have RINGS what if I shed my skin and became a skeleton.

Keep it Together by orphan_account (Rated T)

/Don’t react. Don’t react. Stay calm. Stick to the plan./ They spent hours, standing on a grassy hill, staring at the prison. /Keep it together./

Personal notes: His One Attachment his Most Important Attachment Shut The FUck

sunlight through my window by oopsie_daisyy (Rated G)

Dream and Punz are comfortable enough together to just walk into each other’s room and be. But when Dream asks him an unfinished question, Punz can’t get the implications of it off of his mind.

Personal notes: biting my own arm. Themb!!!!!! Them,,,,,

Bunker Pasta by dyinginlava (probablyaceok). (Rated T)

When Punz meets Dream after he escapes from Pandora’s Vault he notices how bad Dream looks and makes a decision.

Personal notes: They love each other did you know that. did you know. they love each other so much

Ground Zero by Oceanbreeze7. (Unrated)

Canon Divergence- what if the entire confrontation went a little faster- and they all had time to leave before the nuke impacted?

Personal notes: its barely there, but Its There and its important To Me.

Even Now by TastesLikeBakingSoda (Rated G)

Punz tries to coax Dream to bed, post-prison.

Personal notes:..........

lets take a rest by TastesLikeBakingSoda (Rated G)

Dream comes home after fighting the slime clone army and Punz gives him tickles and kisses

Personal notes: I'm being persecuted, held at gunpoint even.

-EXPLICIT FICS-

forever and always by applpudding

Dream slips his hands from Punz’s grasp and slides one around the cradle the back of his head. “Punz. Look at me.” The softness of his voice coaxes Punz’s eyes open and oh. He’d forgotten how stunning Dream’s eyes are in the daylight, brilliant viridian irises shining bright and honest, settled between soft golden eyelashes. “I don’t know if I can say it back yet,” Dream says, and for a moment Punz feels his heart sink. “But,” Dream continues, “that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. I do, I really do, I promise you that.” Punz leans forwards and knocks their foreheads together. “I’ll wait,” he whispers. “However long you need, I’ll wait."

Personal notes: they need to be happy its so fucking important to me

radio lust by navyhurricane

A messy turn of events leaves Dream without a car in the middle of a rainstorm. He knows Punz is made of nicotine and bad ideas, but Dream's curiosity over Punz’s passenger seat is addicting.

Personal notes: hi they are absolutely infatuated with each other. they told me so themselves.

losing the bet by Anonymous

“Oh, I see. You wanted to lose,” Punz said in a low voice, dropping in volume, and Dream’s breath hitched in his throat. “You made that bet assuming you’d lose, huh? You wanna be my bitch that badly?” “Fuck no,” Dream spat back even as his eyes locked onto Punz’s lips. They looked surprisingly soft, pink. Dream swallowed hard. “I’m just a man of my word. I promised you, you win, you use me as you want.” “Just seems like an odd thing to offer to someone you’re not attracted to at all.” Punz stepped closed again, practically chest to chest, and he grabbed Dream by the jaw. His grip was tight, practically bruising, and he pushed Dream’s head back against the lockers. “Deny it all you want, but I think you wanted to end up here. You liked the thought of mean ol’ Punz shoving you into the lockers, huh? You want me to fuck you right here?” Dream whined, unable to speak with the hand clamping his jaw shut, and Punz huffed a snort of amusement. “You’re cute when you’re pathetic, princess,” Punz purred.

Personal notes: shaking them. they are stupid and full of kink. I cherish them deeply.

Observant by Toasted_Poison

Dream and Punz are roommates and Dream is very observant of Punz's recent behavior.

Personal notes: the comment I left on this fic probably shows how insane I am more than any words I could type here.

if you’re the reason why it’s empty, spin the fucking bottle by oopsie_daisyy

"I was about to leave when you asked me to play spin the bottle, actually,” Dream explains with a knowing smile, one that Punz reciprocates easily. “But yeah, it’s fine. Just a regular boring party, nothing too special.” “I could make it special.” Dream rolls his eyes. “I know you can. Why else do you think I would stay at some shitty party?"

Personal notes: RAAAAA WHY ARE THEY SO DUMB I CANT FUCKING STAND THEM (is holding them so very closely)

Shatter you by Anonymous

The payment is given. The plan should start any minute now. Punz wouldn't say he'd changed his mind. He never truly agreed with this plan anyway. It's good that Dream is in a good spot for listening. Alternatively: Punz is an Ender Dragon hybrid who likes gold but likes his shiny employer better so he decides to keep him. Dream's a brat and needs to be taught his place.

Personal notes: go away leave me be. I have to be really abnormal about Ender Dragon Punz. (you hear the sound of someone eating paper)

A Goat & A Coyote by ConscientiousMonster, Melpomene_Muse_of_Tragedy

A coyote pack leader finds a goat spellcaster that's been tied up in ribbons and left for death by vultures. This is furry-flavoured Drunz porn.

Personal notes: I'm not a furry but five dollars is five dollars<===this is a reference. I'm actually probably a furry.

Without End by JanetBaby99

“We’re equals aren’t we? You and me no matter what,” Punz assures. “You don’t control me and I don’t control you.” Dream lets his words wash over him, taking them in and analyzing each one. … Even after all of this, seeing how weak Dream has become, seeing how he’s fallen, Punz still sees him as an equal on this godforsaken server. ___________________ After Dream escapes Pandora's Vault, he goes to Punz who helps him through the worst of his injuries, and assures Dream that he would love him no matter what.

Personal notes: HNNNNNNNNNNNNNN THEY ARE IN LOVE,,,, THE ANGST CAN'T DEFEAT THEM,,,

all your ivory glory by eleostomercy

“You’re a cockslut.” Dream’s eyes flick up. He’s sure he makes quite the sight, knelt at Punz’s feet, knelt over a baby blue dildo, and dripping between his thighs with a hand on Punz’s cock. “What about it?” or, where dream has an idea and a need to be between punz's legs.

Personal notes: clapping and cheering and blowing the building up because its what they deserve.

twisted on my tongue by eleostomercy

I know what a sex machine is,” Punz mutters, unsteady on his feet as he rights himself by the refrigerator; the revelation is surprising, sure, but his own astonishment at Dream’s hidden possession is nearly gone. “I just didn’t think that—” “What?” Dream’s embarrassment has melted away by now, and it leaves in its place a sharp grin and gleaming eyes. “Didn’t think I would own one?” or, where dream reveals a well-kept secret and punz decides to give it his own gleaming review.

Personal notes: hey did you know that they're in love. Did you know that I'm throwing shit and maiming because they are in love.

their hungry thirsty roots by consumptive_sphinx

Punz, somewhere above him, sighs, and then there’s a flowering vine in his face and he can’t fucking breathe. His knees hit the ground again and this time Punz wraps an arm around his chest and doesn’t let go, combs through his hair with their fingers while he coughs until his eyes water. “Sorry, man,” they say, and “I know,” and “it’s alright.” Something’s fucking happening while he coughs and Dream doesn’t like drugs under the best of circumstances— they make him slow, they make him stupid, they make him off his game and he can’t be off his game— but the alarm is leeching away. It’s like trying to cling to water. By the time he can breathe again his legs feel too weak to move on.

Personal notes: hnnnn Egg fics.... my one (1) weakness....

pleasure in death by bugginmate

“Here’s how this is gonna work, sweetheart,” he murmurs, brushing Dream’s too long hair out of his face. “You’re going to do what I say. I’m gonna get you all worked up and begging for me. Then when- or if- I decide to let you feel good, I am going to kill you. Do you understand?” Dream and Punz are brainstorming ways to die for their limbo research.

Personal notes: two bros, chilling in their lab, fucking around against OSHA regulations.

Scour and Scorch by FraustiButBad (FraustiNoSnowman)

“Is everything about numbers to you?” He retorts. It’s a weak one, at that, not because it doesn’t mean anything to Punz, but because both of them know that it’s almost a hundred percent true, and Punz is proud of that fact. “Yes,” the lighter blonde admits. His thumb rests on the front of Dream’s chin, and he pulls Dream’s head down to eye level; Dream has to grip the table for him to not punch Punz in the face, or throw on his jacket and leave. “It’s all numbers to me. And where does that take me, sweetheart?” Punz does everything for numbers. • Dream and Punz, musicians, classmates, enemies, friends with benefits, are everything that could be set fire to.

Personal notes: the unreliable narrator that is Dream. also kink. peoples two favorite things.

Red Sweater by Typical_Kiwi

Punz really has to go to work and Dream's making it exceedingly difficult. (Punz isn't blameless.)

Personal notes: THEY CARE ABOUT EACH OTHER. SO MUCH. SHUT UPPPPPPP

Home for the Holidays by Toasted_Poison

"So, where am I sleeping?” Dream asked, looking around the large room, the couch did look quite comfortable. Punz shook his head, opening his suitcase to unpack, “Are you playing dumb? In bed with me.” “Oh! Are we going to explore each other's bodies?” Dream teased. The dirty blond kicked off his shoes and shrugged off his jacket, placing it on the couch before his gloves joined it. He didn’t expect an answer from Punz, who was staring down at a blue shirt in his hands before looking up and smiling at Dream with a cock of his eyebrow. “If you’d like."

Personal notes: (you see an image of goofy floating in a fountain)

Play To Win by angeIofsmalldeath

He likes his roommate, he really does. All things aside, they’re relatively close and spend a decent amount of time together. Punz keeps his space neat, they split dish duty, and his rent is always on time. He’s not a bad roommate in the slightest. That does not change the fact that this is not the first time Dream has found himself incredibly annoyed on behalf of Punz and his stupid video game. Dream is sick of his roommate playing video games loudly all night long. So, they make a bet.

Personal notes: Listen. Listen. Listen. Actually Don't listen. Have you considered the benefits of shedding your skin and becoming a skeleton

i'll be unclean, i'll be obscene (you be the rest) by staged

“I wanna choke you.” Punz leans down to say in Dream’s ear, dragging his teeth against the lobe and pressing a wet kiss to his jaw. “Do it.” Dream pleads, rocking back on a harsh thrust. His eyes flutter, meeting Punz’s gaze with a forest of vulnerability, thick with desperate want. “What if I kill you?” Punz mouths down Dream’s neck, licking around the space between his fingers. It’s spoken like a suggestion, a sadistic fantasy that they want to play out. “Then bring me back.”

Personal notes: Theyre so wonderfully fucked up I would Die for them.

I miss ya, and our rendezvous by froghatter

Five times Punz and Dream made bets together and only once does Dream lose.

Personal notes: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Transactional Satisfaction by TastesLikeBakingSoda

Punz takes his payment.

Personal notes: Don't look at me go away.

candy games by Royal_Stars

Dream wants to play a game. Punz obliges. Why wouldn't they, when they get kisses out of it? It leads to a bit more than the two of them bargained for, but hey, neither of them are really complaining.

Personal notes: I am slowly sliding them both together. then they kiss. then they kiss. then they

but the damage has been done by Anonymous

After weeks upon weeks of exhaustive experimentation on the nature of life, death, and revival, Punz and Dream are both tired. One of them was bound to break. But Punz is not going to let it be Dream.

Personal notes: they are full of mental illness and so am I.

Sublime by cosmicskies

Punz will make him food. He knows what Dream needs right now. Soft touches and to be showered in attention even though he scowls and tries to send the other away every time. During the moments where Dream can think without being shouted at by his own mind, he’ll tell Punz about the things he wishes he didn’t think. How sometimes, asking to be held is the scariest thing of them all. But they’re both touchy people.

Personal notes: (you hear explosions in the distance)

#suds soapbox #LISTEN TO MEEEEEEE #LET THEM BE IN LOVE FOREVER #RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA #Mild disclaimer just. This is about fics that Make Me Happy #not about whatever has the most notes or whats the most popular. If the fic is popular thats very cool!!!!!! If its not #well I think we should all go insane about the fic and make it more popular.#You Know What You Must Do

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maries-gallery · 9 months

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wc: 700

French bits translation:

my heart

By the clear fountain, on my promenade, I found the water so fair that I stopped there to bathe. I have loved you for a long, long time, never will I forget you. (from A la claire Fontaine, a French lullaby)

And if you didn't exist, tell me why would I? I'd be nothing but a dot on this Earth, in this world that comes and goes I would be lost. I would need you. (From Et si tu n'existais pas by Joe Dassin)

One of the things Clavis remembers the most about his mother is her voice. How soft it sounded in his ears when she comforted him and soothed his cries as a child, a hand gently wiping away the tears on his cheeks as she kneeled before him. He had just tripped whilst running after a rabbit in the gardens, scratching his knee and palms.

“It’s okay, mon coeur, this injury will heal in no time!” She smiles at him, the brightest and most earnest smile he has ever seen. The sight enough to stop the faucets in his eyes from running more tears down his cheeks.

Not many people smile in the palace, only his mom. He wonders why. Why are people so sad amongst these walls? Why is no one smiling and laughing? Why does everything feel so blue?

His father never smiles either, only sits and scowls on his throne. A statue made of ice who barely spares him and his mom a single glance.

Only his mom’s curved lips and the warmth of his palm on his cheek. But even from his young age the sadness rooted in his mother’s eyes didn't escape Clavis’s acute attention.

He remembers how it sounded in his ears when she eased him to sleep, the two of them lying in his bed, her arms around him and his head on her chest. Her heartbeat laced with the music of her voice. She smelled of lavender and roses.

“A la claire fontaine, m’en allant promener j’ai trouvé l’eau si belle que je m’y suis baignée.” She sings and his eyes slowly flutter close, until her voice is nothing but an echo in the distance. “Il y a longtemps que je t’aime jamais je ne t’oublierais…”

He still hears her sometimes. In the wind that blows through the leaves, in the rain that falls on blooming roses. When he sings or hums to himself sometimes, when he thinks no one is looking, the same melody and same lyrics. But Cyran knows.

“Oh, Cyran! Didn’t see you there! No need to check on me, I am hard at work as you can see!” He cheers, plastering on a smile, pretending. He goes back to the pile of papers on his desk, switching for a cheery tune.

And Cyran doesn’t say a thing. He doesn’t have to.

Clavis’s eyes falter, and so does his smile.

He hears it also sometimes, when you sing to yourself, the smile on his face falls as amber eyes gaze at you like you might vanish into thin air, like nothing in the world exists but you. Slow hesitant steps carry him to you, and you almost miss the thin sheen of tears in his eyes. This time he doesn’t bother to run away and hide, he doesn’t care. Nothing matters but your voice and the distant echo of his mother’s embrace.

“Do it again.” He says, voice strangled by something he cannot quite pinpoint. Something between sadness, happiness, and… nostalgia? “Sing for me, please.” He asks again, and your heart tightens in your chest as desperation wavers in his eyes.

Sometimes he can listen to you for hours, the two of you lying in bed at night, his arms around your waist and his head on your chest, only he does not sleep this time, listening intently to every syllable. Every word and every note.

He doesn’t dare skip a beat, in case it’d be the last time.

And some other times he smiles and cheers, a spring in his step as he hoists you up and spins you around, twirling you around the room to the beat of your voice and his own. The two of you singing together, like nothing matters, like he is a child again and like you are made of sunlight.

“I am pretty sure these are not the lyrics, Clavis.” You laugh, the sound light and golden as it wells up in the air.

He mocks surprise, mischief bubbling in a cheshire grin and fierce amber eyes, “Oh but these are the correct lyrics. The correct lyrics of the song your dear Clavis created himself for his lovely lover.”

And he loves how you flush at his silliness, how you fall quiet and listen to him, the hints of a smile on your features.

“Et si tu n’existais pas, dis moi pour qui j’existerais? Je ne serais qu’un point de plus, dans ce monde qui va et qui vient, je me sentirais perdu. J’aurais besoin de toi…”

taglist: @aquagirl1978 @randonauticrap @rhodolitesrose @revasserium (why you should play Clavis's route, because he is an angsty dork and we love him) @pockcock @violettduchess @ikemen-writer @ikesimp100 @veervers @venulus @otomehoneyybearr @scrumptiousfirepanda @elleplaysotome @cellophanediamond @myonlyjknight @citizensofcradle @itealyou @keithsandwich @chirp-a-chirp @nuclear-frog @scorchieart

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bullet-prooflove · 4 months

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This is the Year: Juan 'Juice' Ortiz x Reader

Part of @storiesofsvu Holiday Bingo! The square was Resolutions!

Tagging: @stydiaswish @goosterroose @crazy4chickennuggets @kmc1989 @withakindheartx @darqchilddaydreamz

Juice doesn’t believe in New Year’s resolutions. He’s made them plenty of times over the years, but he’s never been able to stick to it. That is until he meets you.

He’s sitting on the swings by the clubhouse when midnight comes around, a beer clasped in his hand. His gaze shifts to Tig whose standing on the porch, his arm looped around Suzie’s waist, his thumb ghosting over her cheek. Those silver rings contrast against her skin as he tips her chin up and kisses her. There’s so much love between the two of them, there has been from the start and now the two of them have a baby.

Juice wants that, he wants to feel like he matters to someone, to love them and be loved in return.

This is the year, I do it. He promises himself as he watches the fireworks erupt throughout the night sky. This is the year he asks you out.

It started in late November in the botanical gardens. Tig had been doing a lot of treks across the country, smoothing out the Sons withdrawal from the gun game. Suzie was getting big, trying to finish up work at Cara, Cara before maternity leave started. She was finding it hard to walk Bonnie. Juice had offered to help out, he loved animals especially dogs. He’d started taking Bonnie to the botanical gardens. He’d read up on scent walks, how they were mentally relaxing for dogs. He thought that it may help with the healing process after everything she’d been through with the dog fighting ring.

The two of them had gotten into a routine. They’d go to the gardens, and she’d have a sniff around, explore for a bit before they played with the ball launcher. After that they’d chill under a tree, get some doggie ice cream, people watch and play tug.

They’ve been doing this for a couple of weeks before he notices you. The pretty girl on the bench with the sketch book. He’s always been fascinated by creatives, he’s more mechanical minded, good with his hands. It’s the reason he’s so good with computers and with engines, there’s something about them that just makes sense to him. He catches your eye, and you give him that smile. The one that makes his entire world light up.

It's April when the roses come into bloom, it gives the botanical gardens a new lease of life. Bonnie’s in her element, there’s new smells to explore. The dog has come out of her shell so much over the past few months that Tig’s asked him to continue with the dog walking. Both him and Suzie are busy with the new baby, they want to make sure Bonnie doesn’t get left out.

It’s Bonnie that makes the first move, the gardeners have been rearranging some of the plants, adding new ones. You just so happen to be seated alongside of one of them, the lead slips out of his grasp as she takes off bee-lining towards it. He hauls ass after her, calling her name. When he eventually catches up, she’s seated in front of you, tongue lolling out of her mouth as you shower her with attention.

“Sorry, sorry.” He apologises, scooping up the leash. “There’s a lot of new smells, she gets excited.”

“I get it.” You tell him. “My friend’s dog is the same. We usually come out here in the evenings, play a little, it’s a good wind down.”

“You like dogs?” Juice asks as he scratches behind Bonnie’s ears.

“Sometimes more than I like people.” You say with a smile.

He laughs because honestly, he feels the same way.

“Hey, let me buy you a coffee.” He says, tipping his head towards the coffee cart by the fountain. “You can tell me a little more about your friend’s dog.”

That’s how it starts. He learns that you’re an artist, that you teach adult classes at the local college throughout the day and some evenings. You come to the botanical gardens to get to some versatility, drawing nature throughout the seasons, sometimes you draw people. You flick through the pages of your sketchbook, showing him different depictions of the same space. It transforms throughout the year, sometimes the shading changes, you add shadows. It grows, it develops, it becomes something more.

“I prefer painting.” You tell him when the two of you head out on one of your evening dog walks. Bonnie and Misha, the Cockapoo are checking out the trail ahead as you walk side by down, sipping hot chocolates from the coffee cart. “I just love working with colour, seeing the difference it makes, the contrast.”

“You have such passion.” He tells you as his thumb chases up the side of the takeaway cup.

“What are you passionate about?” You ask him, your shoulder bumping against his.

“Honestly?” He asks, taking a gulp of his caramel hot chocolate.

“Yea.” You say with that enthusiastic grin of yours. “What gets you up in the morning? What do you live and breathe?”

“Engines.” He tells you, shrugging his shoulders as you laugh. “I don’t know what to say! When I start stripping down a bike and I put my hands to work, something in me just clicks. It’s like the whole world makes sense. I just focus on the task, the nuts and bolts of it and I don’t know…” he trails off for a second as he tries to find the words. “It’s soothing you know?”

“That’s how I feel about painting.” You tell him, your gaze on the two dogs as they snuffle in one of the bushes. “I couldn’t do it for a while, a couple of years ago and it drove me absolutely crazy.”

“I noticed the scars.” Juice remarks gesturing at your right arm. “You broke your arm at one point?”

“What’s Misha got?” You say, quickening your step before you call out for the dog to ‘drop it’.

The walks turn to dinner dates, which turn to late night bike rides because sometimes he can’t sleep, and he discovers that you can’t either. You feel so good against him, your arms wrapped around his waist, your cheek pressed against his back. It’s after one of these rides that you invite him inside and he knows it’s not just for coffee.

He makes love to you in fresh sheets, in a room that’s filled with canvases and colour. His fingers entwin with yours, your thighs hitching around his waist as he loves you like he’s loved no one else. Your fingertips chase over the scars on his back, the ones from where he was shivved in prison.

You know that’s one of the reasons he doesn’t sleep sometimes. He dreams about that day, of the shiv plunging into him, the blood dripping onto the concrete underneath his feet.

Your palms trail down the curve of his spine, caressing his ass before you draw him even deeper, and he moans into your mouth because until then he’s tried to be a gentleman but you…

You untether him completely.

It’s playful, sensual and soft. He smiles as you bite his lower lip because his baby, she knows exactly what she wants and it’s him. When you shatter underneath him, it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. He comes hard, his hips flush against yours as he drinks down your pleasure.

Another year, another New Year’s party.

Juice steals you away before midnight, breaking into the botanical gardens where the two of you first met. He lays down a picnic blanket so that you can watch the fireworks in peace.

It’s perfect, this moment, lying beneath the stars with the woman he loves.

He’s been carrying the ring around with him since he bought it a couple of weeks, just waiting for the right time and he knows now in his heart that this is it.

He says your name as he props himself up, withdrawing the ring from his pocket. You tilt your head towards him as he holds it up.

“Simone, I love you.” He tells you, the earnestness shining in his features. “Let me spend the rest of my life making you as happy as you make me.

“Juan…”

He just loves the way you say his name. You’re the only one that gets to call him that, the only one he lets call him that.

“Juan, I can’t.”

His world crashes in on him. The ring slips from between his fingers tumbling onto the blanket and getting lost in the folds. Everything goes numb, he feels the emptiness flood through his body as you reach for him, your thumb ghosting across his cheek. It’s just an intimate gesture, and it hurts so fucking much.

“It’s not you.” You tell him, your voice cracking. “It’s me, it’s entirely me.”

The story comes out in stops and starts and Juice’s heart breaks with every single word. You can’t marry him, of course you can’t, because you’re still married to the abusive asshole who used to beat the hell out of you.

It’s the reason you left Seattle and came to Charming.

You’d ran after he’d smacked you around so hard, he’d shattered your right arm. He’s the reason it aches when it rains, the reason you had to stop painting a couple of years ago.

“I never divorced him.” You tell Juice as you sit on the picnic blanket with your knees drawn up to your chest. “If I do, he’ll find me…”

Your eyes sting, the tears leaking down your cheeks. You let out a shaky exhale before you raise your eyes to the sky.

“It’s over, right?” You say as you use the back of your hand to chase away the tears.

“No.” Juice says quietly as he sits beside you. “Not if you don’t want it to be.”

“I can’t give you what you want,” You say softly, toying with the beaded bracelet on your wrist. “I can’t be your wife.”

He gathers you up into his arms, drawing you into the comfort of his body. If he could take this all away for you he would, but he can’t because your history is what brought you here to him. His love for you, that’s unconditional, it doesn’t matter what label you put on it. He’s yours, for better or for worse.

“I don’t need a wife,” He whispers against your hair line as he cradles you close. “I just need you.”

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#juan juice ortiz #juice soa #juice #theo rossi #juice x reader #juice x you #juice ortiz #juice ortiz x reader #juice ortiz x you #juan ortiz x reader #juan oritz x you #juan juice ortiz x reader #storiesofsvuholidaybingo2023

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joyflameball · 3 days

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WHITE DIAMOND AU STEVEN IS GOING TO FUCKING DROWN/ALMOST DROWN AND I'M NOT SURE IF I'M EXCITED OR TERRIFIED (theory post)

(cw drowning and stuff ofc)

Okay so in the past few days I read the entirety of Chekhov's White Diamond Steven AU, which is very good and everyone should read. And while reading it, I noticed something... interesting.

There are numerous instances where Steven will come close to drowning, and usually, someone will mention something along the lines of "Steven's a gem, he doesn't need to breathe." I looked through the comic to find instances, or references to Steven and drowning, or just how often Steven will go into deep water, and there are a lot. Some of my evidence could be reaching, but I have a somewhat coherent internal logic for why everything is here.

I apologize for the low image quality in places. The 30 image limit is kicking my ass.

In Seasons 1 and 2 there aren't that many instances. Steven goes underwater and comes out a soggy beast once in Season One, but that doesn't really count. In Season 2, while controlling Earl through dreams, he mentions "the water creeping higher and higher."

And in the Season 2 finale, right before it's revealed that Steven is White Diamond, Steven goes into the water to save Earl, and emerges from the water with Earl, which is followed by Rose's realization and revealing that he's White Diamond. i'm gonna bring this up again later remember this

In S3E27, Amethyst tells Steven to stop bleeding, moments before they go underwater and it's highlighted that Steven needs to breathe.

In S3E31, Steven mentions he wishes he could breathe underwater, is moments later dragged underwater by Lapis, and at the end there's a panel of bubbles floating upwards.

In S3E32, the Crystal Gems are discussing while Steven is zoning out, and Pearl(?) brings up how he shouldn't need to breathe underwater (implying they pulled him out of the water after nearly drowning). In S3E34, Lapis plunges Steven underwater, and parts the sea to let Steven find her (to reveal the full truth of who she is). S3E36, Lapis almost drowns Steven (after he reveals that he's white diamond, might i add. i'm going somewhere with this).

In S3E46, Ruby and Steven go underwater, and after Steven comes up for air, he says he felt like his lungs weren't gonna take it, and Ruby points out that gems don't have lungs.

In S4E1, Adventurine plunges Coral underwater, Steven's realization that it's just him and not him and Earl is paired with water and reflection imagery, and after they unfuse, there are a good few moments where they're underwater, and in shock.

In S4E8, Stevonnie brings up how Steven doesn't need to breathe, but Connie does.

S4E17 opens with Steven underwater and coming up for air.

S5E1, Steven and Connie have a conversation in Rose's healing fountain, and they talk an awful lot about how Steven's very much alive, and very unlike the rest of the gems. And hints started being dropped that it's gonna be revealed soon that Steven's human.

And oh yeah- in almost every single White Diamond Steven dream sequence, there is heavy use of water and reflection imagery.

Okay. So there's all my evidence. I think it's undeniable that this is, at the very least, a pattern. Steven's been associated with drowning and water and all that jazz for a WHILE. So where am I going with this?

Well, to lead into my answer, I'd like to draw your attention to another pattern: truth being revealed, or starting to be revealed, or revelations being had, around water. With Steven realizing Earl's nowhere to be found in Coral, with Connie starting to realize Steven's human in Rose's fountain, and most notably, with everyone realizing Steven is White Diamond, after they wade out of the ocean.

People have had the feeling for a little while that the reveal that Steven is human is coming up. Four seasons of believing Steven is a gem merely having deceived himself into believing he's human- that cannot continue forever. That bubble needs to pop one of these days. And with Connie having one of Steven's hairs, it's 100% coming up.

So here's my theory: part of the reveal that Steven is human is going to involve drowning somehow.

Because think about it: the gems currently believe Steven fully convinced himself he was human growing up, and as such, has conditioned himself to bleed, to want food, to get tired, and yes, to feel like being underwater for too long will cause him to drown. And so far, any instances to the contrary have been able to be brushed off with the belief Steven conditioned himself into seeing himself as human! Steven's hungry? He grew up believing he needed to eat. Tired? He grew up believing he needed sleep. Etc, etc, etc. Steven just needs to shake off that (if you will) programming, and once he does, he's home free.

But of course, that's wrong. He is human. He doesn't need food or sleep or air because he's conditioned himself into believing he needs them. He needs food and sleep and air because he is human. And the "he's conditioned himself into thinking he needs these" excuse works for a while. But there's a limit to that.

And I really think that limit would be "Steven almost/actually briefly dying." His heart stopping for a few moments. Programming can only go so far, and I don't think anyone could fully believe he's a gem after his heart stops.

And with how often Steven has gone underwater, I fully believe the reveal that he's human will come with Steven almost drowning- especially considering the water imagery in his White Diamond dreams, and ESPECIALLY considering the White Diamond reveal in Season 2 came directly after Steven waded into deep water. So it'd be a neat parallel- his Diamond status and human-ness are both revealed after going into deep water.

I also think Lapis COULD be involved with that somehow but I'm not completely sure how. Like she's gonna be FURIOUS if/when she's freed from the bubble- she got trapped AGAIN. So if and when she is released? She's gonna be pissed. And I don't think it'll go well for Steven.

@ask-whitepearl-and-steven DON'T TELL ME IF I'M RIGHT I JUST NEED TO GET THIS OUT THERE BEFORE MY BRAIN DISSOLVES IF I'M RIGHT THEN I'M GOING TO FUCKING EXPLODE AND IT'LL BE PANDEMONIUM

#cassie rambles #white diamond steven au #wdau #wd!steven #wd!steven au #white diamond au #white diamond steven #steven universe au #su au #ask white pearl and steven

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bitchfitch · 11 months

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The Maze was a place of turmoil. the constantly shifting walls didn't care if there were bodies between them and their next position. Many were lost to thirst or hunger. Many more to the monsters that roamed the seemingly endless halls.

Countless adventurers and warriors and scholars too curious for their own good had entered. Most would not be seen again, few would return with stolen riches and a hollow look in their eyes.

So much suffering concentrated in a place meant to trap and disorient congealed at the Maze's heart, forming a spring of fine water that sputtered red like a gash through an artery.

To drink from it near the Maze's entrance would drive the most passive monk mad with bloodlust. Towards it's middle it would grant vigor and heal all wounds while ripping the mind to shreds. At it's mouth was the source of eternal life and a body made anew.

The fountain of youth, some called it. Its the womb of the Maze, others said. Either way, it's the place where the Maze digs its claws into you and makes you part of itself. Another monster to roam its halls in an endless search for battle.

The cavern that surrounds the spring was the one place the walls stilled, where no monster would dare growl, where the Maze remade its fallen children to bare them anew once more. Cured or healed or brought home from whatever far off land they had roamed too.

It was decorated as a temple, honoring the Maze the monsters called home. Its attendants a clan of sphinx who took on the duty of welcoming those who rose from the waters back into their home. Feeding them and giving them a place to rest and collect themselves before giving them guidance on how to find their own clans once more.

Ironic it was that they had a hole in their ranks.

Monsters had been going missing. First it was their Guardian, the great white bull that defended his prison turned home. Then it was the ferals, the monsters who were born human. Then others and others until finally the takers narrowed their focus to the outer sphinx clans. Picking off lone siblings who walked the paths with no one to watch their backs, then taking entire clans in single attacks.

For so long none ever returned. Their losses echoing through the Maze as though the structure itself grieved for it's missing children.

The Temple Sphinxes had thought themselves immune, had thought they laid their paths too deep into the Maze to ever lose kin to those invading beasts.

It was arrogance. They only lost one, they were lucky in that way, but still they grieved for it in a way they never had had to grieve before. Death was benign, whatever the attackers did with their prizes, death was not something they were allowed.

But, the stolen began to return. One by one they would clamber from the spring. Terrified and wide eyed like they hadn't expected to ever see home again. They told of poachers and alchemists and tortures of the mind and body. They told of their Guardian, of the Bull, trapped in gold chains but still protecting them however he could. Saving them and allowing them to drink from the Maze's waters until they were one with the Maze enough to return.

They told of corpses that didn't turn to ash as soon as death took them. Monsters held away from the Maze for far too long until they were no longer one of its children.

The Temple Sphinxes waited for their lost kin to return. It had too. They held out hope for so, so long. The rest of the missing had all been accounted for. Either they returned or another was able to carry word of their demise to the clans. Their kin had to rise from the waters soon. It had to have stayed to act as guide for the stolen. An extension of their duty here beside the spring.

They waited and waited. None carried word of its death. Many claimed to have seen it at the side of the Guardian. It still didn't return.

Outside the Maze's grand entrance was the kingdom's palace. Its lavish halls and sparkling gilding acting as guard and foyer to the nightmare the previous king demanded be built.

Within that palace, up a flight of stairs and down a hall lined with portraits of people who would spit and sneer at the creatures they named monsters, was a fine bedroom. Its walls gouged and dented, it's decorations pulled down and destroyed by frustrated hands until all that stood were the simple fineries a home sick monster could appreciate.

The Bull, Serapis, once a prince, then a Guardian, now a king, sat on his couch awaiting the return of the truest friend he had ever known.

The missing sphinx, Aetius, would go home today. The wounds it had bore when Serapis first met it were long healed. The aid it had been able to provide in his quest to exterminate the poachers had done its job. The excuses it gave both of them for why it should stay at Serapis's side were worn thin.

He wanted to be happy for it. It was going home.

He wanted to beg it to stay. He wanted to demand to know why it would abandon him to this isolation once more.

The gods had demanded he take his step father's throne. The lands had been blighted and the Maze riddled with plague until he was forced from his home to govern the one that had cast him out.

The door opened, Aetius slinked in. Its golden feathers smooth and shining in the late evening sunlight that poured in through the large windows. The mountain of jewelry it had worn since it discovered he wouldn't stop it from taking whatever it wanted from his family's collection had all been returned to its original place. It was a shame Aetius couldn't take the pieces with it. Most hadn't been touched in decades, and every single piece looked far better decorating its lithe form than they did gathering dust in a dark room no one was allowed entry into.

Aetius came over to him, climbing up onto the couch beside him, half laying down on it and half draped over his arm. Its chin resting on the bulk of his shoulder, the heat of its body warming his fur.

Neither of them spoke, both stealing a few more minutes of hesitation before they would have to say goodbye.

If it had been from any other clan this goodbye would have only been temporary. Much of the Maze's upper layers had no ceiling. It could climb the walls with it's mighty claws and take off from there. Flying to meet him in the palace gardens before returning again to the fountain where the Temple Sphinxes kept constant track of the Maze's movement. They wouldve been able to tell Aetius how to return to his clan from there if it didn't feel like doing the math itself.

But Aetius was a Temple Sphinx. To attempt to leave its place amongst its kin and their shared work would have it expelled from their ranks. It loved it's family and the work they did too much to ever dream of abandoning them. It hated life in the palace too much to be tempted to stay for any reason other than how dreadfully it would miss the connection it had found with Serapis.

"How much longer may we linger?" it sighed heavily. For every part of it that ached with what it would soon lose, there was a part of it that sang with eagerness to be home and in the arms of its family once more.

"How ever long you want," Serapis replied even if he knew the question was not meant to be answered. Aetius could not speak directly, no sphinx could, so it spoke only in questions. He stood from the couch and took its narrow hand in his, guiding it to walk with him to his balcony. "Madeline will have my head as a mount if we do this where the ash will leave stains."

"Would she be able to win that fight?" Aetius met his somber joke with one of its own.

"Maybe. You've met the woman, were it to her liking she could be queen of the ferals without the waters help." he opened the creaky glass door, snorting at the image of his maid with her grey streaked hair and neat skirts surrounded by ferals who had lost much of what made them look human.

The evening was giving away to sunset, the city beyond the palace gates bustling as torches and lamps began to be lit along the roads. Sunset was always the time of goodbyes in the stories Serapis's mother had read him when he was young. Something about this goodbye happening as the light turned golden felt right.

Aetius sat on the mosaic tiles, it's hindmost legs folding neatly under the lion half of its body. The more human upper half didn't lower. It had to crane it's head to look up at him, the angle making the flat gold of its eyes shimmer like marbles.

He put his hands either side of its shoulders, dragging them along their shelf, through it's thick mane, until he had his thumbs either side of its throat. His fingers laced behind its neck. Its eyes fluttering shut at his touch.

It stopped him with a single tap on his wrist.

"If it be the Maze's will, may we see each other again?" the curse of the sphinxes warped the simple goodbye. A small token of the culture that had grown within the Maze extended to him as a final farewell.

"By the Maze's will, may we see eachother again." he replied, before crossing his thumbs accross the front of its throat.

A sharp jerk, a crack sounding from where he had snapped its neck, and it was limp in his hands.

Serapis knelt, guiding Aetius's corpse to lay on the warm tiles as the tips of its wings fell away to ash. He rested it's head in his lap, his fingers combing through its mane as shining golden fur was overtaken by grey. Muscle and bone and organ, skin and hair and feathers became dust in the breeze until all that remained on the balcony was a lonely bull.

#hashtag death warp

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justrandomghoul · 10 months

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Mountain x Rain: Shy Waters

CW: Discussion of past pack abuse.

TW: Past verbal and physical abuse.

Angst, hurt/comfort.

Mountain only wishes for the new water ghoul to feel safe in his new pack. Will the water ghoul open up to him?

Ever since Rain was summoned, he kept to himself, keeping everyone at a safe distance. He wasn’t sure what to make of the world around him. Aether was welcoming and understanding with the new water ghoul. He made it clear that Rain was part of the pack. The pack he used to be a part of in the pit disregarded him, saying that he was useless and not worth keeping around, causing the new ghoul to keep himself at a distance, not wanting history to repeat itself.

Mountain wanted to get to know the new ghoul, but was hesitant to talk to him since Rain backed away from him when he offered his hand to shake. He thought that the water ghoul was so stunning, and he couldn’t believe that the stunning water ghoul was part of the pack. Mountain wanted Rain to feel welcomed, and he tried doing so, but each attempt ended with Rain being silent and backing away from the earth ghoul as if he was afraid that he would strike him. Mountain had no idea about the abuse that the water ghoul went through at the hands of his old pack. Rain had no idea why the earth ghoul was even trying when he made his intentions pretty clear. He thought that if he continued to keep himself at a distance, they would give up and send him back to the pit.

Rain sat on the water fountain late at night, staring at the moonlight glistening on the water. He wished he was back in the pit with his old pack and would welcome him with open arms. Bruises fade, wounds heal, but he still had the scars from it all. Mountain noticed them and tried to figure out how the scars came to be, but thought not to ask the shy ghoul. He didn’t want to scare Rain even more since he was already scared enough. Mountain finally decided to try to talk to the water ghoul, bringing a bouquet of white roses to give to the water ghoul.

Rain paid no mind to the gentle giant that was behind him.

Mountain hesitated when approaching the water ghoul and softly spoke his name.

“Rain?”

Rain jumped and turned around in fright, hyperventilating. Mountain wanted to whimper. He didn’t mean to scare him. Why must he look intimidating? Why is he struggling to comfort the newest pack member? What was his life back in the pit? Mountain lowered his head and took a step back, shyly holding out the flowers to the water ghoul.

“These are for you,” Mountain hesitated. “I don’t know what your favorite flower is, but I assumed that you would take a liking to these. You don’t have to take them if you don’t want them.”

He paused before continuing.

“I don’t know what your life was like back in the pit, but I can tell that it wasn’t pleasant, and I’m so sorry that you went through that. I wanted to let you know that we aren’t like that at all. We love and care about every single member of the pack. I want you to feel that way as well.”

Rain hesitated before gently taking the offered flowers out of Mountain’s grasp, studying them. They were pure and beautiful. It was very thoughtful of Mountain to give him something as such. He looked up and saw that Mountain was fidgeting with his hands nervously. He didn’t expect this giant to be so hesitant and nervous. Rain saw how lively this earth ghoul was and how kindly he treated the pack.

“Thank you, Mountain,” he softly spoke. “These are beautiful.”

Mountain looked at him and smiled.

“Of course. I’m glad that you like them.”

Mountain turned his gaze to the moon.

“Beautiful night, isn’t it? Never get a view like this back in the pit. I remember seeing the moon for the first time and waking up Papa frantically asking him what the fuck that big shiny thing was.”

He chuckled and looked back at Rain before continuing.

“You'll never get sick of a view like this.”

He never noticed before, but the water ghoul’s eyes had a shine to them like when the moonlight shines on the ocean. Mountain found Rain to be beautiful. He was too beautiful to be a demon. He was captivating. Rain moved over and patted on the spot next to him. Mountain smiled and graciously sat down, his eyes never leaving Rain’s.

Rain looked deeper into Mountain’s eyes.

“Your eyes have gold in them,” he almost whispered to himself in awe. “Still green, but they have rivers of gold in them.”

Mountain smiled and blushed.

“Yours remind me of the ocean when the moonlight shines on it. They’re beautiful, Rain.”

Rain blushed and looked down at the roses.

“You think so?” He asked shyly.

Mountain nodded.

“The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Rain hesitated before speaking up.

“I owe you an apology. I did not have the best experience being in a pack before I was summoned here. I assumed that it would be the same as it was, and even though you all have been treating me with kindness, I still avoided everyone like the plague. I rejected you before you rejected me and that was cruel of me. For that, I am sorry, and I hope you forgive me.”

Mountain gently took Rain’s hand in his and looked at him mournfully.

“There’s nothing to forgive," Mountain reassured him. "I’m so sorry that you went through that. You didn’t deserve to be treated that way. If I was part of your past pack, I would’ve ripped them to shreds and treated you like royalty.”

Rain’s eyes shone with tears and looked down at their intertwined fingers.

He whispered, “I am not worthy of being treated like royalty or being part of your pack. I do not wish for you to see the ugly side of me.”

Mountain gently cupped Rain’s chin and gently tilted his head to look at him.

“There’s nothing ugly about you,” Mountain spoke with conviction. “You’re beautiful and you proved how strong you are by surviving that hellhole. We want you to be part of this pack.”

Rain shook his head. Tears running down his face.

“You are wrong,” he countered. “I have the scars to prove it.”

Mountain gently brought Rain’s hand to his lips and kissed it.

Mountain spoke with kindness that Rain had never heard before.

“You’re still beautiful.”

Rain hesitated before taking a deep breath.

“Do you want to know about the pack I was a part of?”

Mountain gently held Rain’s delicate hands in his own to comfort the ghoul in front of him.

“Only if you want to talk about it. I understand if you don’t want to.”

The water ghoul looked away as tears ran rapidly down his cheeks.

“It is not a pleasant story," Rain started.

He took another deep breath before continuing.

“Back in the pit, I was part of a pack for a long time. I was often picked on or left to fend for myself. When it came to hunting or defending the pack from other ghouls they would use me as a decoy since I could not defend myself. Every day I tried so hard to prove my worth to them. I wanted to mate with one of them, and this was the result.”

He let go of one of Mountain’s hands and pushed up one of his sleeves, revealing multiple scars on his arm.

“He made his answer loud and clear. Told me that he would rather have Lucifer himself smite him than be with an ugly creature like me.“

Mountain was speechless as he stared at the scars. How dare some lowlife treat this beautiful water ghoul like that? He was tempted to be sent back to the pit to find this asshole and rip him to shreds. Rain was beautiful and amazing. Stunning as blue stained glass. How dare his past pack not see that?

Rain shrugged and continued.

“I should have known better than to irk him, and I paid the price for it,” he spoke so casually as if he was talking about the weather.

Mountain shook his head as tears clouded his vision.

“No,” he stuttered. “No, Rain. You didn’t deserve that. That lowlife is an asshole who should be tortured for the rest of his pathetic life for hurting you.”

He took a deep breath before continuing.

“He’s a fucking idiot who doesn’t see how amazing and beautiful you are. I would never, ever hurt you. I would rather be sent back to the fiery pit of hell.”

Rain gently rested his hand on Mountain’s cheek. He saw the raw emotion in the earth ghoul’s eyes. The honesty and promise.

“There is no need to do such a thing,” he almost whispered. “I believe you would not harm me. I am sorry that it took me this long to realize that. Please do not go back there.”

Mountain gently rested his hand on top of Rain’s that was cupping his cheek.

“I promise, but if you change your mind, I would do it.”

The water ghoul chuckled.

“I believe you would.”

From that night forward, Mountain would continue to prove to the water ghoul that he was part of the pack and that he was safe. Whenever Rain would fall, Mountain was always there to pick him up.

#cw: past physcial abuse #cw: past verbal abuse #angst #hurt/comfort #the band ghost #the band ghost fanfic #mountain ghoul #rain ghoul #mountain x rain #nameless ghouls #grammarly is my goose #this is my first ghost fanfic #randomghoulwrites #randomghoulpost

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ourlittleforever · 2 months

Text

Meet Me By Moonlight

Words: 1563

Ship: Millie/Lazav

The scent of fresh roses wafted through the air, and Millie sighed softly. They were sitting on a marble bench in the middle of a gorgeous sunlit park; birds sang, leaves rustled, and they were all alone in this perfect world.

Except for him.

The mysterious stranger, wearing a leather cloak and smelling of sandalwood and geraniums, manifested from behind a bush. Millie couldn’t ever see his eyes, though sometimes, they swore they caught a cryptic glimmer shining from under the shadow of his hood. His shaggy blond hair hung loose around his scarred chin. The half-elf had wanted so badly to ask if they could remove his hood, just once – but for some reason, their throat closed up whenever they went to ask.

The stranger came closer, and even in a dream, Millie could feel the power reverberating off of him. “My dear girl,” he purred, extending a hand to them. “Walk with me.”

Millie stood, their teacup-length dark blue skirt swishing around their knees. The stranger’s hands were calloused and warm to the touch, and he squeezed their dainty little hand in his as he led them down a pathway lined with pink and white roses.

The stranger plucked a white rose from one of the bushes and turned to Millie, placing it behind their ear. “There.” His lips curled into a sly smile beneath the shadows, and Millie couldn’t stop themself from leaning against him slightly. He was a blazing fire, and they were a fledgling moth, completely drawn into him.

“How come I never get to see you outside of dreams?” Millie asked as he led them further down the path.

“I’m a busy person,” he replied nonchalantly.

“But you make time to see me in dreams,” the half-elf said, glancing up at him curiously. “What are you doing right now? Are you awake?”

“Hard to say.”

“You could be a little more forthright.”

“That’s beyond my nature, kisa.”

Millie tried not to roll their eyes. This stranger, charming as he was, disliked when Millie behaved impolitely, or like a brat. And being an impolite brat included pressing him too hard for information, or outwardly disapproving of his mercurial, whimsical speech.

“Though…” the stranger began, stopping in his tracks. A clearing had opened before the two, with a white fountain in the middle. He tugged Millie’s hand slightly, urging them forward. The sky had begun to darken. Even in dreams, the stranger distorted all sense of reality.

“Though what?” Millie asked, trying to keep their tone even, mild.

“I want to see you. I want you to see me.”

Millie’s heart nearly leapt from their chest. “Really? Where? When?”

“Patience,” he chided, and Millie deflated a bit. “In the Tenth District, in Precinct Five – where the light of the full moon first hits Ravnica – that’s where you’ll find me.”

Another riddle. Still, Millie tried to be cheerful. He wanted to meet them – really meet them! And if they were being honest, someone putting in the effort to court them in their dream was more than could be said for any past crush or failed fling. The half-elf grinned in spite of themself. “I’ll find you,” they said.

“I know you will.” The stranger tipped their chin up with one finger, and Millie saw that mystical glimmer under his good once more.

Then, they awoke.

—

Days of research at the Ismeri Library had led Millie to this place: Dinrova Heights. The half-elf pulled their plaid overcoat tighter around their body. The night was clear and chilly; the full moon cast deep shadows over the streets. Millie knew they were in Dimir territory, but they hoped their mysterious paramour was watching out for them.

Still, the Dimir weren’t all bad – during the Invasion, Millie had helped a few agents out with healing spells, fresh food, and a bed to sleep in, and in turn, the agent had kept the Phyrexians at bay. Perhaps they were safe here, regardless of the stranger’s influence.

The sign at the front of the building came into sharp focus.

WELCOME TO THE DIMIR PUBLIC OFFICES. NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR DEATH OR LOSS OF PROPERTY. BASEMENT OFF-LIMITS.

That was inviting.

The Dimir were thought to be destroyed during the invasion, but anyone with half a brain knew better. Some of the lights in the Dinrova building were still on; the building itself was in decent shape, all things considered. A few windows had been boarded up, but the majority just had the blinds tightly shut, save for a few busybodies working furiously in the upper echelons.

Millie stepped inside the building, where a soft buzz marked their entrance. The lobby was seemingly empty, but the half-elf got the feeling that they were being watched. Suddenly, they were acutely aware they may have walked right into a trap – all in the name of romance, like an idiot.

The door swung shut behind them, and the Selesnya cleric swallowed hard. Nowhere to go but forward, they thought, setting their shoulders and marching to the elevator.

The elevator creaked open at their approach, and it seemed the entirety of Dinrova was inviting them further in. Millie stepped onto the rickety elevator and pressed the button for the top floor. The elevator dinged, the sound slightly distorted. The lift began its ascent, and Millie mentally prepared themself for whatever was going to happen next.

After a few moments, the elevator stopped moving, and the doors opened to a penthouse suite. It was lavishly furnished, if a bit dusty. Still, Millie knew this wasn’t what the stranger meant in his riddle, so they pressed forward, cautiously stepping into the apartment.

Through the kitchen, Millie could see a lush balcony, where moonlit danced on silver brick. The cleric tiptoed over to the door and exited to the terrace.

The terrace’s edges were surrounded by rose bushes adorned with pink and white flowers. This was the place, then! Millie felt a surge of pride as they walked forward. They tried to take a thorough survey of their surroundings, but even with the bright moonlight, it was difficult to make out much. Curse their mother for giving them her human eyes.

Millie was pulled from their thoughts by a soft hum, and they glanced around, their heart picking up speed. They took a cautious step further into the terrace, and then, they felt it: that aura of undeniable, absolute power, followed by the scent of sandalwood and geraniums. At the edge of the balcony, the stranger revealed himself, his leather cloak blown by the breeze.

Somewhere, deep within Millie, a name echoed: Lazav. It was as if his name had been inside them all along, hidden in their bones.

Beneath the shadows on his face, the stranger smiled.

“Millie,” he said pleasantly, extending his arms. “Come here. My clever girl.”

They obeyed – as if they could do anything else! – and tiptoed over to him, as if they were afraid to shatter this moment. Lazav took their hands in his, and they were just as warm and rough as Millie remembered. It was nearly overwhelming to stand this close to him; he radiated power, more power than Millie had ever witnessed. And he had taken interest in a lowly Selesnyan cleric, nearly abandoned by their own guild for their perceived ineptitude? This was a dream. It had to be. Right?

“I knew you would find me,” Lazav murmured. He tilted their chin up with the side of his pointer finger.

“Can I…” the half-elf’s throat felt dry, but they pressed forward. “Can I see your face?”

Lazav smiled gently. “You have earned it, haven’t you?”

Millie reached up and took his hood off, and they gasped. He was quite handsome, especially now that they could see his entire face. His blond hair had a lovely sheen in the moonlight, and his irises were like pure black ink. Crows’ feet crinkled up beside his eyes, and deep laugh lines framed his lips. The half-elf’s face warmed. This was their stranger? How had they gotten so lucky?

Lazav leaned closed, and Millie closed their eyes, allowing him to fill their senses completely. When he kissed them, it felt like they were falling through a starlit void, all other sensations melting away, replaced by him and him alone. Briefly, Millie wondered if they were dying; how else could they feel so close to heaven?

Millie followed Lazav’s lips as he pulled away, and the cloaked man chuckled. When Millie stood on their tiptoes to try and kiss him again, Lazav grabbed their cheeks in one hand, his thumb and fingers squishing the soft skin.

The half-elf couldn't help but pout, to which Lazav laughed, and Millie couldn't tell if they were more furious at or desperate for him. “Oh, poor thing,” Lazav cooed, his voice soft yet mocking. He pulled Millie's face a little closer but refused to kiss them again, and smirked at their neediness. “Am I breaking your heart?”

When Millie didn't reply, he finally leaned close again, allowing his lips to grace theirs. “There,” he said when he pulled back. “That's better, isn't it?”

The half-elf nodded dreamily. “I found you,” they mumbled, more to themself than him, still dazed by his kiss.

“You did. Now, you have me…” Lazav held them flush against his chest. “And I have you.”

What a wonderful thing, to be his.

#self ship #selfship #self insert #self x canon #yumejoshi #yumeship #milliefic #the shadow and the light

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daydreaming-in-letters · 10 months

Text

Kindred Spirit

Part Two - To Love

07/06/2023

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Reeja (ofc)

Word Count: 5,848

Warnings: healed wounds/scars, mentions of monsters, language, fluff, unprotected sex

Summary: Geralt awakes at Melitele and finds himself soon after in the nightly gardens of the temple to thank the woman who nursed him back to life.

A/N: I know, I know, it's been ages since I posted the first part and I couldn't blame you if you were sure by now that the second part would never come. But here it is and there are two more planned. I just hope it won't take as long until I finish the next part. 🤞

Divider by @firefly-graphics

If you like my story, you are very welcome to like, comment or reblog. Please don’t copy, repost or share my work on other platforms.

Even before he had opened his eyes, Geralt knew exactly where he was. At first there was the heady scent of incense from the pendulum, eased by the fresh smell of water that was running through the gardens and collected in smaller and larger pools or fountains. The sound and the cool it brought was meant to calm body and mind alike. A deep inhale carried a notion of the medicinal herbs that were planted all over the gardens, riddled with lots of ornamental flowers to bring a little colour and shape to indulge the eyes as well. Slowly the sweet perfume of the flower wreaths that had been left by the temple’s many visitors as an offering to the goddess mixed with the tangy notes of the herbs, accompanied by an equally sweet scent of honey that rose from the warm wax of hundreds of candles placed all over the temple. Melitele.

For many days, he had woken to the familiar scents of the temple. He had been much younger then, at a time that seemed like a whole lifetime ago now. Yet there was hardly anything that could ease his mind like the atmosphere at Melitele. It was rooted deep inside of him, the security and peace this place offered, engraved in his bones to be remembered forever.

Still, something was not quite right about it today. There was something else, something unfamiliar mixing with the usual notes. Geralt couldn’t stop the slight alarm from crawling up on him and forcing his eyes open even though his lids still felt too heavy to abandon his sweet slumber just yet. The rich scent hung heavily in the air that filled the room, clinging to the walls and furniture despite the soft breeze that drifted through the open window. It was everywhere, on the sheets, his pillow, it even stuck to his skin.

Grabbing a fistful of cool cotton, he lifted the covers and inhaled again. Even here, from all over his naked form the unparalleled sweetness filled his nose and made him shiver. It was probably nothing, just his mind playing tricks on him, an aftereffect of the venom.

His jaw clenched as his fingertips found the pink patch of new skin on his abdomen. That fucking arachas. Usually they were not a difficult kill, but this one had been remarkably feisty. It had surprised him in a way, or maybe that was just the lie he chose to tell himself instead of allowing himself the thought that he might be beginning to slow.

With a sigh he sat up, the idea pushed far away to the back of his consciousness for now as the room started to spin for a moment.

“Fuck,” he muttered, one hand fisting the sheets to steady himself while the other reached for his clothes that he had made out from the corner of his eye. They had been washed, mended and neatly folded before someone had placed them on a stool next to his bed. It didn’t surprise him in the least that they too carried the unfamiliar scent. Unfamiliar but pleasant and before he knew what he was doing, he found himself pressing the dark shirt to his face and letting the sweet scent invade his senses once more.

“You’re awake.”

He froze in place, feeling caught even though he had his back turned towards the visitor. There was no shame between him and the woman who had taken him in, taught him the little magic he knew and cared for him more than his mother had ever done, but still he was glad that he had already managed to put on his trousers. He hurried to do the same with his shirt before he turned, a huge smile on his face.

“Nenneke.”

She didn’t return his smile at first, worry clouding her dark eyes instead. “How are you, Geralt?”

“I’ve been better,” he scoffed, a half-smile turning one corner of his lips upward, “but I’d probably be much worse if it weren’t for you.”

“I had no hand in healing your wounds. And to be honest, I don’t think you would be at all if you hadn’t managed to reach Melitele in time.”

Slowly she made her way over to the chair that stood by the open window on the other side of his bed and sat. Geralt was not sure whether she was watching him button up his shirt or if she was observing something on the other side of the door. But he hadn’t even managed to reach the last button, when a whiff of air seemed to follow Nenneke’s path through the room and he knew.

The scent came richer than before, urging him to turn around and he had to steady himself as it rolled over his whole body, so fresh and enticing. His ears picked up a soft hum as well, as sweet as the scent it accompanied, and without noticing his hand lifted to ease along the pair of deep creases between his eyebrows.

“Who—” he started his question, but the words refused to leave his mouth as for a split second, someone came into view. She was gone as quickly as she had appeared, too fast for him to memorise whether she was short or tall, whether her hair was long, blonde or black, there was only one thing apart from her scent his mind had committed to memory: her eyes. They were beautiful, sparkling, but so were others. No, there was something else about them, something deeper, that had drawn him in in the blink of an eye, irrevocably, that had opened him up for her to gaze beyond flesh and bone directly into his heart.

“That’s Adreejana.”

For the second time, Nenneke’s voice startled him and as he turned to find an amused smile on her lips, he could feel the heat crawl into his cheeks.

“She’s the best student I ever had. I introduced her to the studies of healing, her salves and potions are extraordinary. Don’t tell her I said that, but they might even exceed my own. You would still be unconscious and lying in bed with a bad fever if it weren’t for her.”

It took him a while to find his voice again, and even then he only managed to form half a sentence. “So she’s the one—” who nursed me back to life, he had wanted to say, but it would have sounded awfully sentimental for someone like him.

“She is.”

As if the confirmation had made her reappear at the door again, Geralt turned once more. Of course the spot where she had been mere moments ago was empty, still he couldn’t help but stare foolishly at it.

“Why don’t you go talk to her? I know she may seem shy at first, but once you’ve gained her trust, I’m certain you two will find that you have much in common.”

He strongly doubted that. Whatever could he have in common with someone like her? Someone delicate, refined, someone soulful.

It was quiet now in the gardens. Without the sound of birdsong or the buzzing of insects, there was only the soft susurration of the leaves and grass, mixing with the light gurgling of water from the fountains and pools. And a little further away, somewhere in the dark, he could make out a low hum.

It was what he had come for—who he had come for—and still it made him stop in his tracks. He had put this off all day even though his thoughts had revolved around little else. It was ridiculous really to be this nervous about talking to a woman for the first time. He had talked to many women before, had uttered things in the heat of carnal passion he wouldn’t even dare repeat to his brothers, yet here he stood, lost for even a simple expression of gratitude for the person who had healed him and thus saved his life.

With a sigh he finally pushed on, his feet growing heavier with every step and once again, he contemplated turning back around and trying again in the morning, when his eyes made out her form in the deserted garden at last. As he had anticipated, she was harvesting herbs—woolly thyme, lamb’s ear, lavender, sage. Some said it was mere superstition to do so at night. He wasn’t one of them. And neither was she, it seemed, as he watched her go about her work for a while. Skilful hands moved swiftly, yet the movement was of an elegance that only sprung from long experience. She looked so innocent, the world around her forgotten while she had fully emerged herself in her task.

Thanks to the darkness and the fact that her back was turned to him, he still couldn’t make out any distinct features. From what little hair peeked out from underneath the veil that covered it, he could tell it was of a dark colour, probably an earthy tone, and long, ending somewhere just above her behind. And even though the fashion of her dress resembled that of the temple priestesses, its colour, most likely a shade of green, told him that she wasn’t one of them.

Without a sound, Geralt drew closer, eager to discover more details on the way. But all he got was more of her scent, pure, like the rest of her, as the first winter snow. The closer he came, the surer he grew that for the first time, Nenneke must have been mistaken. They had nothing in common, not in the least. On the contrary, it couldn’t have been more obvious that everything about her was a stark contrast to himself, a monster in comparison, his hands having killed so many while hers had probably saved the same amount of lives, or more.

It almost seemed blasphemous to touch her, still he found his hand reaching out for her until his fingertips found the warm skin of her bare shoulder. She jolted, rising to her feet in an instant, but it was only when she turned to face the intruder that Geralt felt her heart speeding up and caught the hitch in her breath. He fully expected her to take a step back to bring some distance between them, but to his surprise she stayed put.

“Geralt!” Her voice was steady, seeming perfectly calm, but then her words chose to betray her. “I mean Master Witcher, um, Mr White Wolf of Rivia, sir.”

“Geralt is fine.” He tried an encouraging smile, but when she didn’t return it, he feared he had messed up. He didn’t have much practice in smiling and more than once he had been told that it could strike more terror than his scowl. The only reaction he could make out was a quick nod.

“Can I help you with anything, Geralt? If you are looking for Nenneke, she’s—”

“I’m not looking for Nenneke.”

“You’re not?”

“No.” Without meaning to, he took a step closer.

“Some medicine then? Is the wound still troubling you?”

Even before her hand reached out, he could sense the movement. It wasn’t consciously made but born from instinct, leading her as far as the black fabric that covered his stomach before her senses came back to life, and she pulled away in a hurry. Wide eyes starred up at him, shocked by her own lack of restraint.

“Actually I was looking for you.”

“For me?”

If it was possible, her eyes grew even wider.

“Yes, for you. Nenneke told me who you are and what you did for me.”

Her mouth opened for a reply, but then she seemed to remember something and averted her gaze. It wasn’t hard to guess which images had come back to her judging from the flustered state she was in and another pleased smile spread across Geralt’s lips.

“I wanted to thank you for your…kindness,” he teased, reeling in the way it almost made her squirm.

“It was nothing.”

They both knew it was far from nothing. She had saved his life.

“You needed help and I knew what to do. Anyone else would have done the same.”

If Geralt had learned anything about mankind, it was that there was no help to expect. Not for a witcher.

“Believe me, they wouldn’t.”

For a moment, they just looked at each other. He wasn’t sure whether to try a smile again, but when he noticed the nervous fiddling of her fingers, he abandoned that idea. Instead, he took the freshly plucked roots she had been twisting and turning from her hands and brought them to his nose.

“Valerian?”

Immediately her face lit up, “You have an understanding of herbs?”, just to fall again when she realised. “Sorry, what a stupid question. Of course you do.”

“A little, yes. Not that my knowledge could ever match yours though.”

Geralt watched her teeth dig into her lower lip, the thread of their conversation slightly slipping from his mind.

“I probably don’t even know half as much as you credit me for.”

“And still it’s obviously more than I do.” He lifted the roots in his hands before putting them back into the basket that was still standing next to her feet. “For example I didn’t know valerian had to be harvested during a full moon.”

His deduction made her chuckle and even though he didn’t know why, he couldn’t help but smile along.

“It doesn’t. I just didn’t find the time during the day.”

“You better don’t keep your sleepless patient waiting then.”

Idiot, he scolded himself. The conversation had just begun to become less awkward and now he was practically sending her away. And judging from her bewildered look, she would be more than eager to escape him. But then her gaze suddenly cleared.

“Ah, no. The valerian is not for a patient.”

“Hm. So it is you who has trouble sleeping then?”

Her eyes fell to the ground. “I do, sometimes.”

“Do you know what I used to do when I couldn’t sleep during my time at the temple school?”

She shook her head. Of course she didn’t know, how could she? And when she lifted her head in hope of an answer, she found his hand already waiting for her to take it.

“Come, I’ll show you.”

There was no hesitation in the way her hand found his. It looked so delicate against his own, glistening in the bright moonlight like a precious jewel. He gave her a moment, waiting for her to reach for her basket, but she didn’t. And so he began to lead her through the nightly garden. Soon they reached one of the inner courtyards which housed a small fountain lined with jasmine. The air was heavy with its intoxicating aroma and he could feel it take a hold of them both.

It was silent here, apart from the string concert of a few cicadas and the steady breathing of his companion behind him. She probably knew where they were headed by now, still she didn’t let go of his hand as he stopped in front of the large wooden door. He listened for a moment, and he only allowed himself to breathe again when his ears didn’t pick up any heartbeats on the other side. With a groan the door gave way and Geralt lead her to the middle of the pitch black room.

“Close your eyes,” he whispered, his lips close to her ear, causing a shiver. And even though his command seemed redundant in a dark room, she did as he had asked of her. “Wait here.”

Soon, the black was replaced by soft hues of gold and orange that danced across her closed lids and she could feel his presence by her side even though she hadn’t heard him approach. The warmth that radiated off his body came closer and she felt it seep through her clothes and underneath her skin long before his chest met her back. Gently his arm rounded her middle until his hand came to rest on her stomach and he pulled her closer. Warm fingers touching her forehead, he guided her head back to rest against him.

“Now open your eyes.”

The soft vibrations of his low voice rumbled through his chest, spreading to her own body, rolling through her to collect deep inside her core, causing a sensation that threatened to unleash in a heady moan, when she obeyed his wish and the sight before her rendered her speechless.

She knew the room, knew the dark blue ceiling with its spots of mother of pearl and gold, but she had never seen it like this. The blue had faded to black in the dim light of the candles, the dancing flames creating a perfect illusion that made her feel as if she was gazing straight through the ceiling, up into the night sky with a million of twinkling stars.

“This is my favourite room at Melitele. I used to sneak in here many nights during my time here.”

It was his voice again. There was something about it that made her foolish and what made it even more dangerous was that it stopped her from caring. And so she closed her eyes and allowed her head to tilt towards the warmth of his cheek until she could feel the tickle of his scruff against her skin.

“I think it is something about this artificial sky, it offers a strange sense of peace.”

She hummed in agreement, her cheek moving against his in a gentle caress and his fingers pressed further into her stomach in a wordless answer.

“If people knew, they’d surely come here more often.” Not simply because of the view, but because of his connection to it. “You are quite the legend inside these walls.”

She could feel him stiffen against her back. “It seems I have quite the reputation outside of these walls as well,” he scoffed.

“Really? I didn’t know that. I don’t leave this place often. What do people say?”

“Are you sure you want to know?”

“No,” she finally whispered after a moment of consideration, wiping away the tension from his body with just one word. “I’d rather like to find out who you are by myself.”

He would have noticed much sooner, but the hand that found his neck distracted him for a moment. The heat it brought spread through his whole body, pulsing through him without restraint until the blooming desire made him dizzy. But even through the white noise that clouded his ears, he could hear it loud and clear. He also felt it, against his chest as much as underneath his fingertips, beating wildly and faster with every breath she took. There was also this scent, heady and bewitching as it evaporated from her skin freely, and he knew that it meant one thing and one thing only. She wanted him, just as much as he wanted her.

Assured by the unmistakable signs her body sent him, his hand began to wander, following the call of heat south, a heat he felt growing stronger in the valley of her thighs with every heartbeat. The grip on his neck tightened as his fingers finally reached their destination. Everything about her was ready to give in, her legs slightly spreading, allowing him more room to venture further, her lips falling apart in a gasp, aching to meet his, so close now, when the spell suddenly broke and she drew away.

His instincts told him to follow her and for the first time in forever he felt they had betrayed him when she took another step back, away from him. And so he stopped, ready to apologise and bid her goodnight. He had seen this many times, people, women, shying away from him as soon as they realised what he was. By now, he didn’t take it personal anymore. The fear in their eyes had lost its power to break his heart long ago.

But it wasn’t fear he found when her eyes met his again. At least not of him. For once, someone hadn’t fled his touch because they thought he was a monster. She was afraid of herself, afraid of giving in to her own desire.

Patiently he waited until her breathing slowed and when he took another step towards her, she didn’t shy away again. To be fair, she wouldn’t have come far anyway with one of the large pillars that supported the ceiling almost right behind her. But the smell of honeyed nectar that began to pool at the apex of her thighs as he drew in on her promised that she didn’t want to go anywhere.

She was so close now, his chest almost touching hers, the heat of her laboured breaths slipping past the buttons of his shirt to tease the hair that covered his pecs and stomach. He inhaled deeply to steady himself, a mistake, he realised at once as another strong wave of her arousal flooded his senses. One hand reaching for the cool stone behind her to keep him from crushing into her, his eyes fell closed as the world began to spin.

“Geralt?”

He wasn’t sure what caused his eyes to snap open again, the worry in her voice or the touch of her hand, squeezing his own. He thought he was dreaming as he watched her while she slowly lifted it to her face to cup her cheek. She was soft as silk against his touch and soon he found himself exploring more of her, fingertips gliding along her jaw, her chin, her lips. Somewhere along the way her eyes had fallen shut, her lips parted and she was his.

He was hers too, although he couldn’t tell when exactly it had happened. Had it been when he had first laid eyes on her, that brief moment after he had regained consciousness? Or had it been while he had watched her work, the moonlight washing over her form and making her glow? Or was it now that his lips touched hers for the first time, barely even so, careful, probing, then deeper, more intimately until her arms and legs wrapped around him and they tasted each other fully, breathed each other in as if they could do the impossible and become one.

Not here though, not in an act of fleeting passion against a stone pillar. He wanted to enjoy this, wanted her to enjoy this, to celebrate whatever it was that was blooming between them, all night long. And then all morning, all afternoon and evening and then all night again, until they were blissed out and spent.

And so he carried her to his room, her lips not once leaving his until he had set her down on her feet again. Gently he took her hands from his neck and brought them to his mouth to kiss her fingertips.

“Tell me what you want me to do, Adreejana.”

“Call me Reeja, please.”

“Reeja.” A shiver washed over her skin as his lips and tongue caressed her name, speaking it with a softness no one ever had. “What else do you want me to do?”

She pondered his question for a while, aching to feel him close again, to kiss him, and yet there was something that would make all of this even sweeter.

“Undress yourself.”

She had expected him to raise his brows in astonishment or at least tease her a little for her request, but he did nothing of the sort. He simply did as she had asked of him, starting with the buttons of his shirt. Reeja remained close, watching as determined hands yanked the dark fabric out of his trousers before it glided from his wide shoulders and fell to the ground. He didn’t stop, not one second of hesitation as his fingers repeated their actions on his trousers and they, too, fell away to reveal every last bit of him.

Geralt watched the same twitch in her hand that he had seen earlier tonight when she had asked after his wound, but this time, he hoped, she wouldn’t pull away.

“Go ahead, nothing you haven’t touched before.”

The sensation of her caress tempted him to close his eyes when her fingers finally found his skin, but even more he wanted to see them move, wanted to watch her explore his body, no matter how much it would cost him not to go insane with want while doing so.

The movement of her hand mirrored that of her other, tracing the lines of his shoulders and clavicles until her fingers touched right underneath the dip where his neck and chest met and ventured further down to graze through his silky fur. She let them rest there for a while, her right hand close to his heart.

“I always thought a witcher’s heartbeat is supposed to be much slower than a humans.”

“It usually is,” he smirked.

“Oh.”

She was adorable when she was flustered and he couldn’t help his hand from gliding into her hair to bring her lips to his again. All senses dazed by his kiss, he could feel her touch loosing grip and her hands began to drift down his stomach. Lazily they followed the slight up and down of his muscles, moving closer to the prominent V that lined his hips when they came to an abrupt stop and then left his skin altogether.

Bewildered by the sudden absence of her touch, Geralt broke the kiss to search her eyes for the reason of her retreat.

“Does it still hurt?”

It was clear that he didn’t understand, his eyebrows knitting even closer together than before her question.

“Your scar.”

He still looked a little puzzled, but then he followed the line of her finger that pointed at the latest edition to his collection. It was hardly any different from the many other scars that decorated his skin, only a touch of light rose hinted at the fact that it was the most recent of them all.

“No, it doesn’t.” He hadn’t even noticed a difference when her fingers had crossed it. And even now, when they found the freshly healed wound again, her touch didn’t cause any discomfort. On the contrary.

“I’m afraid it will stay though.”

Slowly his hand pushed across hers, sealing it in place.

“Good, it will forever remind me of your kindness. The mind tends to forget, but scars remember everything.”

“I know.” Her voice was but a mere whisper, her eyes suddenly avoiding him once more and when she freed her hand from underneath his, he let her. Shaky fingers began to unclasp the plaited leather belt that set on her hips before they travelled up to the simple golden fibula on her shoulder, the only thing that held her dress in place. By now her hands were trembling so violently that it kept gliding out of her fingers over and over again.

“May I?”

It seemed that her words had abandoned her once more, still she consented with a nod and Geralt was quick to finish the task for her. He could have watched forever as the olive fabric cascaded down her form, like a curtain, falling instead of rising, to reveal what his eyes had longed so much to see. The moment was over too soon, but the effect grew stronger by the second, until every single fibre of his body was fighting the urge to sink his fingertips into her skin to feel her, all of her, inch by inch by inch.

Instead he forced himself to look up into her eyes again. She was about to turn when he caught something in her gaze that sent a cold shiver down his spine. And then he understood. Almost all of her back was covered in a huge, angry burn mark, spreading all the way from her shoulders down to her pelvis. Simply imagining the pain it must have caused her made his stomach turn and red heat course through his veins. He wanted to touch her, to soothe the memory of the pain however long ago it might have subsided, but then he remembered how hesitant she had been to touch his scars and halted midway.

“It’s appalling, I know,” she spoke lowly, and he knew he had messed up again, his hesitation leading her to believe that he was repulsed.

“No, it’s not. Not in the least. Nothing about you could ever be appalling to me.”

She sighed and he knew she didn’t believe him even before she spoke again. “Then why did you pull away?”

“I didn’t want to hurt you.”

A myriad of emotions washed over her face at once and Geralt hadn’t identified them all when she took his hand and brought it closer to her face. Softly her fingertips glided along his palm, inspecting it as if she could measure whether his hand held any danger.

“You would never.”

No, he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. And he was eager to show her when she guided his hand to her back and placed it right in the center of her scar. He was astonished how smooth it was, silky and soft like the rest of her skin. The tissue was nothing like the scars on his body, not bulgy or messy to show at first glance how much the wounds had hurt. But he knew all too well the agony she must have been through.

“What happened?”

She turned in his arms, burying her face in the crook of his neck, and he pulled her tightly against himself.

“Let the past be the past. Just for tonight. I promise to tell you another time. But for now I’d rather forget about it.”

“Then let me help you forget.”

The touch of her lips was light, barely even palpable against his strong pulse, but he hadn’t just imagined it and it was all the confirmation he needed. He left an open mouthed kiss on the top of her shoulder, his tongue darting out to taste the salted honey of her skin. A few inches away, he repeated his movement, venturing further with every kiss until he had reached the exact spot her lips had met his skin mere seconds ago and a loud moan broke the silence as he began to tend to her sensitive flesh. It was heaven and he needed more of it. Luckily he knew how to get it, not waisting a single second to let his fingers glide right into the heat they had tasted before. Slick with arousal, she welcomed him in, sharp nails digging into his shoulder the further he ventured.

“Geralt,” she breathed, sending a flash of lightning straight to his loins that coaxed an unholy grunt from the depths of his chest. “If you keep on using that technique I will have forgotten even my name come morning.”

He stopped immediately, a deep chuckle telling of his amusement as he softly removed his fingers.

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?”

She had wanted to reply something witty, but when the two glistening fingers he had pleasured her with vanished in between his lips with a delighted hum, her mind went completely blank. Speechless she watched as he walked over to the bed and sat down on the edge, his massive chest bouncing enticingly in the process. If he had already registered her dumbfounded state, he didn’t let on. Not even the slightest hint of a self-satisfied smirk played on his lips as he extended his hand and bade her join him.

He had probably anticipated she would take the place next to him, but she chose to climb his lap instead. She could feel him against herself, hard and heavy, twitching in anticipation as she pulled herself even closer against him. There was a need in his kiss she hadn’t felt there before. But not only in his kiss, it was in his hands, too, as they eagerly grabbed her behind and guided her up and down. It matched her own, matched the growing heat inside of her, from a fire only he could quench.

“Have you…have you been with a man before?”

“With men, yes. But never with someone like you.”

“A mutant?” He didn’t know why he had assumed that was what she meant, a reflex probably. But it made her stop and that was the last he had wanted.

“No,” she laid her palm against his cheek, her eyes holding his intently, “a gentle soul. A kindred spirit.”

“Reeja.”

His voice was shaky, overwhelmed by the goodness her heart held. And thankful for it because maybe it was that very goodness that made her see beyond what everyone else saw in him and helped her fathom the goodness in his own heart. And however little of it still remained, it was hers, entirely hers.

“Geralt,” she moaned his name as she aligned his tip with her entrance and lowered herself in an agonisingly slow pace. Their names were the last that was spoken. There was no room for more words, all they needed was to feel. Feel the way he filled her so perfectly as if they were made for each other, feel the velvet of her walls embracing him tightly, welcoming him deeper with every slow roll of her hips. It was anguish and delight, they were delirious, lost in each other and yet they had never been more at peace.

Every kiss, every thrust they celebrated with the longing of the first and the hesitancy to let go of the last, their bodies completely tangled in each other after he had turned them both over. She was writhing underneath him, drawing him down against her to feel more of his delicious weight on her. Grunts and groans, mewling and moaning filled the silence of the night, rising, rising, rising until they both came apart in each others arms. Once, twice, losing count somewhere in the spiral of desire and satisfaction long before morning came.

For Geralt’s taste, it came far too soon. His limbs were still entangled with Reeja’s, impossible to unravel. Not that he had wanted to. He loved to lie here, nestled in between her breasts, her fingers woven into his hair to keep him close. In the still of the approaching morning he could hear her heartbeat against his ear. Steady now, needing the peace after the heated passion of the past night. He pushed the thought aside for the moment as it threatened to fan the embers of his desire anew, but he didn’t want to wake her. There would be time enough to spoil her again after she had rested.

He smiled when he recalled the original plan to leave as soon as his wound had healed. Everyone always chided him for not allowing his body to properly restore itself. Maybe it was time to try something new and listen to them, just this once. Just to make sure.

***

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