name of god | mustafa

Another bite of Daniels life after IWTV if Marius had been the one to find him

---

Park benches and the space beneath bushes were not the best place to sleep, and Daniel knew this, but waking up in a hospital bed only drove the point further home. Before he even opened his eyes, he ached, feeling like he did when he had a bad flu. Skin so tender and muscles so sore that the smallest wiggle against stiff, starched sheets was painful. He frowned softly and tried again to open his eyes but he was so tired. He felt something cold against his lip and tried to wrinkle his nose to get it away but was unsuccessful; raising his arm to try and bat it away just felt like a joke. It was heavy and hurt and he felt something tug uncomfortably. But he tried it again anyway because Daniel didn't know when to quit.

“Alright now, enough of that, boy,” came a deep, soft voice next to him, and he felt a warm hand encircle his own in a tender touch. He knew that voice, and he finally pried his eyes open.

“Marius…” He wanted to ask what was going on, what had happened, but he was so tired that the name was all he could get out. His mouth felt so dry, and his throat too, making speech an issue.

Then there was a hand behind him, an arm around his shoulders, helping him to sit up enough to take a drink from the straw pressed to his lips. He sipped gratefully, the water cool and felt like it was filling in literal cracks down his throat.

“Better?” Asked Marius, and Daniel nodded. He blinked several times as his eyes adjusted to the bright light of the room. Everything was a shade of white, yellow, grey, save for the garishly contrasting blue curtains beside him. His sight wasn't the best without his glasses on but through the slight blur he tried to orientate himself, despite the dizziness.

“Yeah, a little,” he croaked. Marius’ hands never left him. Now he was touching his shoulder gently, and finally Daniel raised his eyes to meet the vampires. He looked worried, and Daniel felt immediately guilty for that. His lush silvery blonde hair was tied back at the nose of his neck, a collared shirt crisp over a deep red sweater. He was dressed for the weather despite being dead, while last Daniel remembered he was donned in a t shirt and a denim jacket-it was all he'd been wearing when he left the bar, too drunk to remember where he lived. Did he even live in this city? Boston, was it? Somewhere on the east coast. Somewhere that got dreadfully cold in the winter. “How long…?”

Marius let out this little noise, something between a huff and a scolding click of his tongue, something that Daniel has not yet figured out how to name. He usually gave him such a reprimanding gesture when Daniel was being especially sassy with him or especially drunk. Often both at once. “How long have you been here? How long were you outside? How long are you going to make it if you keep up with this foolishness?”

“All of the above?” Daniel laughed weakly as Marius gave him a withering glare, but at the same time he began to fuss, looking for something to do with his hands, and he adjusted Daniels crinkly pillow to help prop him up more, and smoother over his blanket. “How long hvave I been here,” he finally settled, knowing he was stressing his vampiric companion.

“Only a few hours,” he answered. “It's just past midnight, and I found you something near 7. In a dusting of snow, Daniel. Snow! How could you fall asleep out in the snow?”

Daniel shrugged, then winced at how sore his shoulders were. “In my defense, it wasn't snowing when I laid down.”

“No, it was just a frosty 17 degrees, that's all,” said Marius. He stood as he spoke, and Daniel watched him cross the room to a cabinet near the door. Marius always looked so out of place in modern settings, moreso here in a hospital. He looked so classy and put together, and this hospital was hardly something out of a home and decor magazine. Yet even in the across fluorescent light Marius looked so handsome. He rifled through the cabinet before drawing out another thin, blue woven blanket, the hospitals name stamped along the bottom, and unfurled it to lay over Daniel’s lap. “A security guard found you, nearly hypothermic as the snow started falling. The fact you didn't lose your fingers to frostbite is a miracle. Why didn't you call for me, Daniel?”

Daniel had no idea how to respond to this. He'd just been drunk, really, except, he'd been drunk because he was sad, and he's been sad because he hasn't seen Marius in three days. He just. Did that sometimes. Up and disappeared for days or a week on end. Said he had business to attend to. Business! As a vampire!

“I…I wasn't sure you'd show,” Daniel whispered and the guilt of his admission weighed heavily on him. It felt ridiculous, to expect a vampire, especially the oldest vampire in the world, to be at his beck and call. Ever since Marius had found him in New Orleans 7 years ago, he had been all but stalked by the man, pursued and followed and left trinkets and gifts and fed and scolded and loved in equal measure, giving him everything he could want (and an amount he didn't) without giving the blood. Too young, Marius told him, though Daniel was 28 now. Too much maturing to do before he was frozen for eternity. Heh. Well he was almost frozen tonight, he thought, but decided to keep that black humor to himself.

Marius sighed, and continued to fidget and fuss with Daniel's blanket. “I would have heard you call for me, Daniel. It was better than hearing the sound of your heart slowing.”

Daniel looked up on faint surprise, horrified but intrigued at the same time. “You heard…? That's why you came for me?”

“Yes, you foolish thing. I heard your heart slow and I heard the thoughts on your mind grow quiet. You'll not worry me like that again. Having to find you here, in such a ghastly place.” Here Daniel saw Marius’ facade crack slightly, looking around the bed at all the items he couldn't quite identify but which solidified his lover as certainly mortal and fragile. He felt guilty for it, and that guilt made him want to bed once more for the blood, but the idea of whining and pleasing right now was exhausting. He closed his eyes at the very thought, and felt like he's nodded off for a few seconds, because he jolted back awake with a gasp and an attempt to sit up. The pain through his arms and back was enough to foil that idea though, and he grit his teeth as he fell back to his pillow.

“Daniel, just rest,” Marius soothed, and Daniel felt his hands smoothing back his hair, stroking over his forehead. Warm hands, surprisingly warm-

“Why aren't you cold?” He asked. “Your skin feels so warm, Mars.”

Marius smiled, and Daniel felt breathless to see the way his eyes wrinkled slightly at the corners, just a hint of his once mortal age. “As soon as I knew you were alright, I went out hunting,” said Marius. “I had my fill off the streets; as cold as you were, I knew I needed to keep you warm.”

Daniel sighed, feeling weary and tired in a way he could barely understand. For years now he had been frantic, driven half mad with fear with the knowledge that vampires were real, opening the door to who knew what other monstrosities lurking in shadows and under his bed. But for a moment, just a breath, he let himself rest.

smapril 13

Day 13  huddling for warmth | "And how would you make me scream?" thank you @staroftheendless for the prompts as always! tags: roommate au

“The heat in the flat’s gone out. In the middle of winter. Well, are you gonna do anything about it!?” Hob shouts into the phone. He taps the end call button with force, grumbling, “Why the hell do we pay you half our paycheck every month if you’re just gonna let us freeze.”

He finds his flatmate curled up in his bed, blankets piled high.

“Piece of shit landlord says he can’t do anything till tomorrow. Don’t suppose you have any clue how we’re going to make it through the night?”

A mop of black hair pokes out from the nest. “We could always huddle for warmth. Two bodies sharing heat will be significantly warmer than each of us alone.”

“You sure? You’re the one with a personal space issue.”

If he could see Dream’s eyes, he’d be shot a withering glare. “Would I have suggested it were it not acceptable to me?”

“Point taken,” Hob shrugs as he barges into the room. “Open up, I’m coming in!”

Dream scoots over and pulls the blankets aside. For a while they lay there, stock still until Hob starts to wiggle.

“What are you doing?” Dream asks.

“Taking my jeans off.” He can feel Dream’s stare. “What? They’re uncomfortable and I don’t want to lie hear all night like this.” He manages to shove them down to his ankles, kicking them off and toward the end of the bed. “Don’t be such a prude, Dream.” He rolls over, his back pointed toward Dream. What he doesn’t reveal is the raging erection he has from being so close to the most attractive man he’s ever seen.

Dream lies flat on his back for a while, then discards his own jeans much in the same way as Hob, for much the same reason.

“Told ya,” Hob says. “Hey Dream?”

“Hmm?”

“Wanna hear a scary story? Bet I can make you scream.” Hob rolls back over toward him and breaks into a ridiculous tale that Dream is pretty sure he read once in a book meant for small children. He sighs dramatically as Hob gets to the reveal. He rolls over to face Hob, their noses merely inches apart.

“I think I can do better. That story was quite childish,” Dream says, smug.

“And how would you make me scream?” Hob asks, grin splitting his face.

Dream grabs at Hob’s waist, pulling him flush against his body and pressing his arousal to Hob’s. His hands crawl up the back of Hob’s shirt, kneading at the warm muscles that are hidden there.

“Dream?”

“Do you not want this? Have you not been craving my touch as I have craved yours?”

“Oh, I have. You’re serious?” Hob asks, stunned that such a beautiful creature could still want him after living together for an entire year.

Dream brushes his lips against Hob’s, hands dipping down to grab generous handfuls of Hob’s arse through his boxers.

“I have wanted you since the day we met,” he says, grinding his cock against Hob’s.

“Oh!” Hob moans, flinging his arms around Dream and searching for his waistband. “So have I…”

He manages to get into Dream’s briefs and around his cock. His hips buck as he feels the soft length of him, fingers dancing across his shaft.

“God you’re beautiful.”

“I should be saying this about you, Hob Gadling,” Dream purrs, slipping Hob’s boxers down to free his weeping cock.

Hob almost comes as Dream begins to pump his hand up and down his length, matching the rhythm of Hob’s hand on his own cock. For minutes they are silent, save for their heaving breaths and occasional moans that slip out.

“Dream! I’m gonna—" Hob wails and Dream stays his hand as Hob presses against him, covering him in his hot release. Hob gives him a few more pumps and then he is contributing to the mess between them, vision whiting out in bliss.

When he comes back to himself, he presses a sweet kiss to Hob’s lips.

“I think we’re going to need a clean blanket,” he rumbles. “But you’re welcome to huddle for warmth any time.”

Because I have near completely neglected the main stars of the show, and I'm bored with an itch to write something- I present to ye: The Ninja and Venobrai

How they would have met or get along with, before S7 events completely free to skip if ye want

Staring with Lloyd and Venobrai:

In a whole other Au where they were both kids, they would have gotten along greatly, given young Lloyd was so bent on releasing the said Serpentine, and Venobrai being a just as parent-less, straggler serpent the two would of been great friends, who could relate and sympathies with one another. All though Venobrai is more hesitant to go along with his childish villain acts.

Now with older Lloyd in general, he would be much more hesitant and unsure wither to trust her or not, given Serpentine are still not to greatly known for being peaceful beings. But eventually, they would be mere mutual historic ally when Misako is other wise busy.

-

Cole and Venobrai

Cole was the first to try and attack Venobrai given his more found hate for snakes, jumping to the idea of Venobrai merely pretending her innocent, assistant role under Dr. Saunders.

But when he was told about how Venobrai was in truth harmless, and innocent he immediately caved in regret from his actions and apologizing. As they later came to be good friends after realizing how they both enjoyed history, and sweets.

-

Kai and Venobrai

Like Lloyd, Kai with Venobrai would be mostly mutual with one another, at least until winter, when whenever the fire Ninja came over, Venobrai would immediately seek him out to stick to him for the rest of the duration to keep herself warm with his greatly heighten body heat. Occasionally playing with his spiked hair to make him whine and bother him.

-

Jay and Venobrai

Venobrai gets a kick out of Jay's humor, and such, as Dr. Saunders was humorous in his own way, the lightning Ninja definitely was a funny one to Venobrai. She also awed and adored the relationship he had with Nya, as thought they had their own vast differences at times they were still much adorable together.

And when he gets talking and designing prints for things, it definitely interested Venobrai, as she found it hard to believe such a man as goofy like Jay could put together such things.

-

Zane and Venobrai

Venobrai and Zane are a mutua factor as well, if not the most compared to Kai, and Lloyd. Zane confuses Venobrai a lot especially with most of his smart sounding words, not having many or great experiences with that like Zane, but they do respect one another regardless, Venobrai most fond of his saying how he was built to protect those who can not protect themselves. Joking how she could have used his assistance in her younger years.

-

Nya and Venobrai

The two girls are decent good friends, Venobrai being greatly impressed with how independent and tough Nya carried herself, before and after becoming the water Ninja, and her relationship with Jay. While Nya took a small fascination of how lady Serpentines were like, much still capable warriors and to how far Venobrai has learned of that human culture, other than Serpentine, as it was very obvious she didn't grow up like a normal hatchling. Much like Nya didn't grow up like a normal child. They got along quite well.

However after what had unraveled with Dr.Saunders, or Krux and his twin who later arrived, most of the teams trust with Venobrai had taken a bit of a drop, as they had a feeling she was no better than Krux, but that idea later was thrown out when they found her and explained it, placing back the original trust they had with the new serpent curator, as replacement.

Least that is what my Au is of anyway :3

At the End of the Sun, Chapter 11: The Storm

Can also be read on AO3!

Rating: E

Fandom: Haikyuu!!

Pairing: Kagehina (Kageyama/Hinata)

Characters: Shoyo Hinata, Tobio Kageyama

Word Count: Chapter: 5,814; Whole Work: Estimated 100k+

Summary: A sudden snowstorm forces Shoyo and the shadow to better appreciate their time together.  

A/N: Another steamy chapter! Proceed with caution! Further author’s notes can be read on AO3.

Everything seemed softer in the winter, as if to balance the sharp, bitter cold. The thick blanket of snow that covered everything dulled the noises of the surrounding woods, which were already quiet in the absence of the animals tucked away in hibernation. Some mornings, Shoyo woke up to the soft chirps of passing birds, slipping into his room where the sunlight couldn’t. Other mornings, he woke up to a thick silence that didn’t unnerve him anymore, just made him want to linger in his warm blankets before facing the brisk cold.

So when he woke up one morning to the sound of howling winds, he felt panic before anything else, pumping through his body and pushing him to his feet. He stumbled to the genkan and wrestled the shoji screen open to a scene that made his stomach drop.

Snow was falling, but it was getting swept up in the wind, swirling through the air until Shoyo could barely see anything but white. The deafening clatter of the storm panels jolted him out of his shock, pushing him to wrestle them into place and fasten them. By the time all of the panels were secured, his fingers were frozen stiff, but the sound of the roaring wind was finally muffled behind the thick wood.

The relief of the cover from the storm was quickly washed away by a new worry: the wolf. If the storm was this bad at the bottom of the mountains, he couldn’t imagine what it was like higher up. Worst of all, if the wolf wasn’t able to make it back before nightfall, then he’d be trapped out as a human, without any cover, any coats, nothing. If that happened, there was every chance that he would die out there.

Shoyo had to find him. It was either that, or stay hunkered in the house not knowing if the wolf was dead or alive. The thought of sitting useless indoors made bile rise in Shoyo’s throat as he changed into his thickest, warmest clothes and braced himself to face the storm.

He had made his choice. He forgot that the storm had a choice as well.

The moment he unfastened the panel in front of the engawa, Shoyo was flung back by the strongest gust of wind he’d encountered. No amount of pushing against it, bracing against the other panels, nor running at it made a difference. It was like a wall of wind and snow, forcing him to re-secure the panel or risk freezing on the threshold.

“Fuck,” he breathed, voice watery from rising tears. His frozen fingers clumsily grabbed at his hair as he stumbled around the room. “Fuck!”

There was nothing he could do. He was just as stranded from the wolf as the wolf was from their home. He had no choice but to simply…wait.

Just as he’d feared, night fell with no sign of the wolf. He slept fitfully, feeling the shadow’s absence like a chasm next to him. Every time he jerked awake to find himself still alone, he could feel a part of himself wither with hopelessness.

Night turned into day. One day turned into two. And still there was no sign of the wolf.

“Please,” Shoyo whispered, staring into the glowing coals of the fire pit. He didn’t know who he was begging. Anyone. Everyone. No one. “Please let him come back. I can’t lose him and Natsu, I can’t—” His voice caught on the lump in his throat, but he kept speaking through it. “Just bring him back, bring him home, let him be safe, please.” He could only hear his own low words because the wind outside had died down, though it still battered at the storm panels and whistled through any cracks it found.

That’s when he heard it: a thud, unlike anything he’d heard since the storm started. This wasn’t the smack of a stray branch hitting the storm panels, nor the clacking of the storm panels knocking against each other. This was heavy, solid, made Shoyo think of the occasions when one of his fellow samurai passed out, collapsing in a single drop.

He shot to his feet, dizzy with hope as he stumbled to the genkan. The shoji screen slid open with a bang, and he nearly tore the front storm panel down in his urgency to swing it aside.

He didn’t care about any damages he created—he’d be the one fixing them, anyway. He only cared about the heap of black fur sprawled across the steps to the porch, the swath of darkness broken only by a familiar woven bag.

“Okami-san!” he gasped, slipping over the snow-slicked wood in his socks and getting covered by the flurries. None of it mattered, not when he had a wolf at the edge of death that he needed to get inside.

With a strength that he hadn’t needed in months, he shrugged the wolf’s limp body over a shoulder and carried him back into the house. His muscles were trembling once he reached the fire pit, but he ignored his discomfort in favor of making sure he lowered the wolf gently to the mats.

By the time he got the storm panels and doors closed again, the wolf’s coat of snow had melted, leaving his fur cold and damp. Shoyo didn’t stop moving, couldn’t stop moving, bustled around the house for a towel and blanket and food and water, untied the bag from around the wolf’s body, dried his fur as well as he could and wrapped him in the spare comforter, stoked the glowing coals into a proper fire, set the food and water nearby to keep them warm.

The wolf didn’t so much as twitch an ear the entire time. When Shoyo finally slumped to the floor next to him, he had to hold his hand near his nose to make sure he was even breathing, his stomach unclenching at the feeling of warm air brushing his fingertips.

He was alive. Somehow, by some miracle, the wolf had dragged himself back after two whole days trapped in the snow, including two nights as a human. It shouldn’t have been possible. Shoyo didn’t know how it was possible.

But he wasn’t interested in figuring out the how and why of the wolf’s survival. He was satisfied with carefully shifting the wolf’s head back into his lap and petting through his quickly-drying fur.

The longer Shoyo sat there, taking comfort from the wolf’s slow breaths beneath his fingertips, the more his body reminded him of the toll his worrying and bursts of adrenaline had had. Exhaustion weighed heavy on him, but he was loath to pull away, even to set the wolf’s head back on the mats.

So he didn’t. He just twisted his body so that he could rest his ear against the wolf’s chest while still cradling his head in his lap. The ache of his muscles was nothing compared to the comfort of the wolf’s slow, steady heartbeat, and within seconds, he fell into the first deep sleep he’d had in days.

He awoke with a gasp, blinking into the darkness with furrowed brows and a half-conscious confusion over when and where he was.

Then he became aware of the warm blankets over him, the linen yukata wrapped around his body, and the strong body he was curved into. “Shoyo.”

A ragged gasp ripped out of Shoyo. All at once, his sleepiness was replaced by bright, breathtaking relief. “Okami-san!” he cried, dragging his hands up a bare torso to cradle the shadow’s face. “You’re back! You’re awake, you’re back, you’re alive, I was so—I didn’t—please don’t leave me, please—”

The sharp line of his jaw was familiar to his fingers, and so was the hand closing around his wrist and the lips pressing to his palm. The brushed kiss finally broke Shoyo. His relieved babbles dissolved into sobs, sobs that he muffled in the shadow’s neck. He was here, he was real, he was wonderfully, beautifully warm and solid in his arms. The feeling of tears falling into his hair only made him cry harder.

“I didn’t think I’d make it,” he heard the shadow choke out. “It was so cold, I didn’t know I could feel so cold, and I couldn’t see anything. I don’t know how, but I knew the way home. All I cared about was getting back to you, Shoyo, you saved me, I would’ve given up out there, I still could’ve been finished by the house if you didn’t get me inside.”

“Are you hurt?” Shoyo abruptly asked through his tears. “I didn’t even check, I was too focused on warming you up. You shouldn’t have carried me here, did you eat—?”

“I’m okay,” the shadow breathed, pressing his face back into Shoyo’s hair. “I’m okay, just…just hold me.”

There was nothing Shoyo wanted more. He held the shadow even tighter, buried his nose into his neck, tried to be surrounded by him as much as possible. And yet…“More,” he mumbled into his leaping pulse, “I need to feel you more, Okami-san.”

Not sex, he wasn’t asking for sex. That was the furthest thing from his mind. He just wanted to press as much of his skin to the shadow’s as he could, wanted to feel every inch of him, soak in the feeling of him warm and alive and safe.

Somehow, maybe because he felt the same way, the shadow understood. The kisses he pressed to Shoyo’s hair were sweet, tender, and made love bloom warm like an ember in him. They were unhurried as they peeled off their clothes, more interested in keeping close than they were in being efficient.

Shoyo didn’t know how long it took for them to fully undress. What did it matter? Even an eternity would have felt worth it just to tightly hold and be held by the shadow. He felt warmer whilst naked under the covers than he would have in his thickest coat. They were holding each other so tightly that Shoyo wasn’t sure where he stopped and where the shadow began. It was perfect. He never wanted to let go.

The kisses that the shadow brushed to his cheeks, lips, neck, and shoulders didn’t excite Shoyo. They calmed him, helped him feel steady and comforted in a way that he could only hope the shadow felt beneath his own kisses.

“Spirits, I missed you.”

“Me, too,” Shoyo breathed.

“I missed you so much, it was like I couldn’t breathe.” Shoyo trembled under the ghostly kisses brushed beneath his ear. “I want to wrap myself in you, I want to wrap myself around you, I just…I want to be a part of you.”

For a moment, Shoyo could lay there, stunned and clinging to the shadow. “...It’s weird,” the shadow admitted after one too many beats of silence. “I just—”

“There’s a way.”

“Huh?”

Shoyo’s cheeks felt like they could catch on fire, but he pushed through, his determination to fulfill the shadow’s wishes easily overpowering any embarrassment he felt. “There’s a way for us to…to be like that. Maybe not just like that, but it could be the closest we get.”

“Show me,” the shadow pleaded, “show me how, Sho, anything.”

“I will,” Shoyo promised, heart squeezing at the nickname, “but not tonight. Tonight just…just hold me.”

“Always. I’m never letting go, I swear.”

☾

The storm lasted nearly a week. It wasn’t surprising to Shoyo that the next five days were infinitely easier than the first two now that he was waiting out the storm with the wolf at his side. It wasn’t surprising, but it was still…startling.

“I don’t know what I would’ve done,” he murmured as he sharpened his sword and knives, “if you hadn’t come back.”

The wolf roused from his doze to blink sleepy blue eyes at him. “Hm?”

“From the storm.” His hands shook, making his carving knife shriek unpleasantly over the whetstone.

“Hey.” He looked up from the glinting blade to see the wolf at his side, waiting for him to meet his eyes before nudging his nose against his cheek. “Quit thinking about that. I’m here, and we’re safe and together. That’s all that matters.”

Shoot nodded weakly, leaning into the wolf’s steady warmth. “…Are you going to go back?”

“For the flowers?” Another nod. “Yeah…when the storm stops and everything calms back down. It’ll only be blooming for another week or so, if the winds haven’t torn it up.”

Oh. In all his worry and relief over the wolf, Shoyo had forgotten to consider the state of the remaining flowers, even as he’d spread the gathered blossoms out to dry. “What…what happens if there isn’t any left?”

“Then your mother will do what she can with what we’ve got. It’s better than nothing.”

The thought of the wolf going back up the mountain made him almost dizzy with anxiety, but that was nothing compared to the knot his stomach tied into over the idea of not having enough of the yamakumo after everything.

So when he released the storm panels the next morning and found snowflakes fluttering almost lazily through the air, he felt his stomach ease while blood rushed too quickly through his head.

“It’s over,” the wolf murmured. “I’ll go back out tomorrow.”

Shoyo’s fingers instinctively sought out soft fur, and he was rewarded with the comforting weight of the wolf’s head leaning on his hip. “Do you…remember what I said I’d show you? The night you came back?”

The wolf went still beneath his fingers. “About…being part of each other?”

Shoyo hummed. “Can I show you tonight? Before you go?”

“Of course. What do you need?”

“The ointment.”

The wolf didn’t say anything else, just gave a delicate lick to Shoyo’s fingertips.

☾

When Shoyo laid naked beneath the blankets that night, he was trembling, but not from the cold. Anticipation coursed through him, keeping him restless and awake and able to hear the shadow slip in and set a cloth and the ointment jar down. When he slid into the futon, Shoyo was already turning to face him, and he heard him freeze with surprise for just a moment. “You’re awake.”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“If…If you’re nervous, we don’t—”

“I couldn’t sleep because I’m excited,” Shoyo reassured him with a quiet laugh. “And…and a little nervous. But mostly excited.”

“Oh.” He felt the weight of the shadow relaxing into the futon. “Me, too.”

There was a beat of silence, of Shoyo listening to the shadow fidget around. They were about to do the most intimate thing they’d ever done together, and he was acting as nervous as he had the very first night Shoyo discovered him by his bed.

He loved him so much.

“Okami-san,” he whispered, shifting closer until he could feel his quick breaths against his cheek. “Kiss me.”

There was a small sound, almost a whimper, before broad hands cupped his cheeks and guided him into a sweet kiss.

Just as he’d hoped, the shadow immediately relaxed under his lips and hands, nerves giving in to the familiar push and pull of their tongues and teeth. It had the same effect on Shoyo—he moved in even closer, pressing their bodies flush against each other.

That was when he noticed it: a distinct lack of fabric brushing on and between his legs. And when he ran his hands down the expanse of the shadow’s lean, strong torso, he didn’t bump up against a waistband. No, his hands just kept sliding lower…and lower…

He only stopped when his exploration made a strangled groan escape the shadow. “Are you…are you naked?” he asked in stunned disbelief.

“Yeah. I thought—since you’ve been—I thought it’d make things easier for us.” His muscles tensed beneath Shoyo’s fingertips. “Is that…okay?”

“Yes,” Shoyo breathed.

The single word and his leg hooking over his hip was enough to make the threads of the shadow’s tension snap, overwhelmed with a pure desire that still made Shoyo glow under.

He easily surrendered to the shadow’s control, letting him press him back and fit himself between his spread legs. The thick blankets fell away from the shadow’s broad shoulders, exposing the two of them to the room’s still air, but Shoyo didn’t mind. He wasn’t cold. He was too busy arching into the hot kisses being brushed and sucked over his skin, and hungrily pressing as much of their bare skin together as he could.

If he wasn’t careful, he would be swept up in the shadow’s desire and give in to the frantic dance they always fell into, and he would be sending the wolf back up the mountain without granting his wish.

Thankfully, the shadow’s curiosity remembered for them. “Shoyo,” he whispered into his ear, brushing a worshipful hand down his body and carefully taking hold of him. “What’s the ointment for?”

More precome had accumulated at Shoyo’s tip than he’d thought, but there was no room for embarrassment, not with the way it smoothed the shadow’s hand into perfect slickness. It took everything in Shoyo to catch that slick, stroking hand and guide it down, down, down, to the soft, velvet heat between his legs and the puckered bud that waited there.

His skin warmed from the shadow’s gasp. “Sho…” The nickname was tremulous with hope and disbelief and worry.

“I want you,” he breathed, running his fingers up the back of the shadow’s neck to sink into his hair. “All of you.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure.”

“What if I hurt you?”

“I’ll show you what to do, and I know you’ll stop if I tell you to.” He blindly kissed the shadow, his lips landing on the line of his jaw. “Do you…do you not want to do this?” The question was scrubbed clean of any disappointment, though it threatened to sit bitter at the back of his tongue. This was something he’d been quietly hoping for, without any way to bring it up before. But none of that mattered if the shadow didn’t want it.

He was jerked out of his worries by the feeling of a cold finger pressing ever-so-gently, making his rim clench as though to catch the tip and drag it in. “I want this,” the shadow reassured him, his low voice buzzing with the edge of a growl, “I want you.”

A whimper fell from Shoyo’s lips before they were pressed hungrily to the shadow’s. He arched into him, instinctively trying to press as much of their bodies together, even as he listened to the shadow blindly fumble for the jar of ointment without pulling away. “What do I do?” he mumbled against his lips, “Shoyo, what do I do?”

“Cover your fingers with it.”

“How much?”

“As much as you can. They need to be slippery.”

Another small whine escaped the shadow’s throat, no doubt from understanding why his fingers had to be coated.

The sound of him scooping out ointment and following the instructions made Shoyo’s heart race. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d done this—he hadn’t shared any of his firsts with the shadow.

But it would be the first time he felt love bloom alongside the burning need, like a blade going molten within flames. He could feel the shadow’s love and care in the time he took to thoroughly coat his fingers, and he almost couldn’t breathe from his own love and eagerness.

He’d never given everything, every part of his being, to anyone before. Maybe the thought should’ve scared him, but as he’d told the shadow, he’d never felt so sure, so certain of anything.

“Now what?” If Shoyo had heard the words less keenly, and knew the shadow’s voice less intimately, he might’ve missed the shake to his voice.

“Just start with one, and I’ll tell you when I’m ready for more.” He heard an audible swallow, and when he reached for the shadow, his hands came to rest on his heaving chest. “Hey. I’m a samurai. A little stretching won’t break me, I promise.”

There was a scoff and a quiet, “Dumbass,” but Shoyo could feel the heartbeat under his hands slow down, before the shadow caught one of his hands with his clean fingers and pressed a kiss to his palm. “Are you ready?” he whispered.

“I’ve been ready.”

“Okay…okay.” After a fortifying breath, Shoyo could hear nothing but soft rustling and softer breathing. “Okay,” the shadow suddenly repeated, “I’m…I’m going in.”

Shoyo bit at his lip to hold back his laughter, but that meant the wolf received silence as an answer. “Shoyo, are you ready?”

“Yes,” he somehow managed to answer steadily, “yes, I’m ready.”

A hand fell on the inside of Shoyo’s thigh, running calluses and warmth up to his hip. Shoyo didn’t realize it was serving to orient the shadow until he felt a slick touch at the base of his cock, then down to his balls, and then down even further, down to his hole, where slippery circles were being drawn. “Are you sure?”

“Please.” He didn’t know what he was begging for, but it worked: he heard a quiet groan, just before a thick finger began to slowly press in.

Shoyo tried to focus on relaxing instead of on the pain, wanting to make sure the shadow met with as little resistance as possible, but he couldn’t completely bite back a sigh when the finger bottomed out. It went still inside of him. “Shoyo?”

“You can move it,” he breathed, his words choking into a grunt when the shadow obeyed.

“Am I hurting you?”

“No! No, it just…feels a little weird at first. Keep going, please.”

The finger moved again, but this time, lips were drifting down his throat and sternum in the ghost of kisses, before sealing around one of his nipples. The suction was almost familiar at this point, but Shoyo still gasped, still arched into the wet heat, and he felt his body welcome the shadow’s finger more easily. “There you go,” the shadow murmured with a flick of his tongue to Shoyo’s nipple.

It didn’t take long for Shoyo to breathlessly plead for another finger, then a third. He tried, truly tried to stay still, but he couldn’t help letting his hips rock down to meet the shadow’s fingers. He’d forgotten how good it could feel to be filled up like this.

Then the shadow spread his fingers, and two of them rubbed right into—“Haaaaaah, oh, oh spirits—”

“Shoyo?”

“It’s good, it’s good,” he mindlessly reassured the shadow, “please don’t stop, ah!”

Those fingers searched around on every push, and soon Shoyo was crying out again. Once he had a target, the shadow was relentless, aiming precisely while picking up speed. Shoyo moaned on every thrust, and that encouraged the shadow to keep going, even sealing his lips back around his nipple.

Shoyo’s peak loomed on the horizon far too quickly, almost frightening in its size and intensity. He nearly choked on his own moans when he cried out, “Wait, stop, stop!!”

The shadow froze, right down to the fingers still in Shoyo. “What, what’s wrong?”

“Just…too much,” he gasped, wilting against the futon. “I almost…almost…”

“Already?” The shadow may have been a wolf during the day, but just then he sounded like a cat, practically purring his smug words into Shoyo’s skin. “I can keep going, get a win the first time we do this.”

The normal spike of annoyance and competition was nowhere to be felt. “No,” he breathed instead, “no, I want to feel you. I want to come with you, please.”

The shadow’s breath caught, before he was kissing Shoyo and carefully sliding his fingers out. “Are you ready for me?” he murmured.

Shoyo could hear him slicking on more ointment, and he was ready to crawl out his skin from how badly he needed the shadow. “Take me, Okami-san.”

The shadow leaned down to kiss him just as he felt the thick, slippery tip of his cock bump the inside of his thigh. Shoyo reached for the shadow’s hand where it was wrapped around his cock, covering the messy fingers with his own and guiding the head to his quivering hole. “There,” he breathed.

“Okay,” the shadow whispered. He wasn’t kissing Shoyo anymore, just leaning their foreheads together and letting their hot breaths mix between them. All of his focus was narrowed down to the slow, careful slide of his erection inside.

Shoyo’s mouth dropped open at the stretch, a groan trembling out of him as the cockhead slid in first. It burned, and it felt strange after so long, but Shoyo also wanted more.

“Sho—? Fuck!”

The shadow let go of his cock to scrabble at Shoyo’s hips, maybe to pin them back down, maybe to encourage the way they rocked up and forced more of his length in. Shoyo didn’t give him a chance to decide. “Give me more, I can take it.”

“Fuck,” the shadow repeated, softer but still full of feeling. “Shoyo, I can’t…we gotta go slow, I won’t…fuck—”

“Not gonna last, Okami-san?” Shoyo cooed, ignoring the tremble of need in his own voice.

“Fuck off, I haven’t done this before.”

“Don’t need to fuck off, you’re already doing that for me.”

“You little shit!” The words were harsh, but their impact was dulled by the laughter shaking out of the shadow and the tension easing out of the muscles Shoyo ran his hands over.

“Hey,” Shoyo murmured when the laughter faded into a soft silence. “If you want to stop—”

“Fuck no, I didn’t say that,” the shadow grumbled, nudging his nose against Shoyo’s. “Just…give me a minute. You feel too good.”

He didn’t say anything, just gave a hum and traced soothing hands up to the shadow’s cheeks, guiding him back into soft kisses. With each press of their lips, the shadow’s hips pressed a little more forward, until they finally met Shoyo’s with a tremulous moan from the both of them.

Shoyo had thought he was used to the shadow’s size after weeks, possibly even months, of touching and holding and swallowing it down. But while his hands and mouth were used to his long, thick cock, it was still a shock to the rest of his body. Having the entire length in him was strange and burned, and made a new type of hunger spread tendrils through Shoyo. “Okami-san,” he sighed, a pleading note slipping into the nickname.

The shadow was trembling again, clearly trying to hold himself as still as possible. When he chanced a kiss, Shoyo accidentally clenched down with the first brush of their lips, making the shadow rear back with another groan. “Fuck, fuck—!”

“You can move when you’re ready.” He tried to keep his voice steady and reassuring, but the low whimper from the shadow told him that his mounting desperation was still apparent.

“...Sho,” he eventually muttered, “Sho, kiss me.”

He didn’t have to ask twice.

Shoyo pulled him into a hungry kiss that couldn’t have been more different from the soft reassurance he’d been giving him. Their lips parted against each other to stroke their tongues together and along teeth, lips, the tops of their mouths. With his focus redirected, the shadow stopped trembling as much. A gentle squeeze at his hip was the only warning Shoyo got before the shadow slowly pulled back and thrust back in. Shoyo keened into the kiss, nipping at the shadow’s lip as another thrust rocked into him.

“You okay?”

“Don’t stop,” he gasped.

There was another soft swear, and then, in the next breath, the shadow began setting a slow, steady rhythm. The little bits of discomfort that Shoyo had been feeling, the burn of the stretch and the strangeness of the intrusion, faded away completely as his body relaxed into the rhythm. His bitten-back grunts of pain melted into quiet keens and moans, echoed by the shadow and underlined by the sound of their hips meeting and meeting and meeting.

“Is—is this okay?” the shadow choked out.

Amusement bubbled up in Shoyo at the sound of the clear strain and restraint in the words, and he couldn’t help chuckling as he answered, “Yes. But…but I can take more. Faster. If you wanted.”

“Spirits, Sho, you can’t just…”

“What?”

“You can’t just say things!” That made a proper laugh of delight burst from Shoyo. “Stop laughing at me!”

It was strange, maybe a little stupid, to be seized by such a childish urge in the middle of getting fucked, but it might have been the euphoria of being one with the shadow that made Shoyo feel cheekiness on top of desperation and love. Whatever it was, the reassuring words he probably should’ve said were overwhelmed by a snickered, “Make me!”

The shadow’s steady thrusts faltered. “...Fine.” The pause stretched for another beat as his hips shifted between Shoyo’s legs.

His next thrust made Shoyo cry out. “That’s better,” he growled.

His adjustments had paid off in his thrusts digging straight into Shoyo’s prostate. The sudden, insistent pressure was almost too much, nearly overwhelming with the quicker rhythm of the shadow’s hips. “Oh, spirits, ah, ah, Okami-san—!”

“Not laughing anymore?”

Shoyo could only whimper, rocking his hips into the shadow’s despite trembling from the…everything. His arms tightened around the shadow’s shoulders, coaxing him close enough to brush his lips over his sweaty cheeks. “Please,” he mouthed into his skin, “take me, please.”

The shadow slid the ointment-covered hand at Shoyo’s hip up until it rested on his ribs, thumb resting just shy of his nipple. The next arch of Shoyo’s body bumped it against the bud properly, pulling a yelp out of his throat that faded into a moan when the shadow noticed and brought his thumb over it.

The extra touches, the faster thrusts, the precise aim to his prostate…it was all agonizing and amazing and too much and not enough, reducing Shoyo to moans that were muffled in the shadow’s neck, falling from his lips with every thrust. The sound of the shadow’s badly-stifled grunts and moans only added to his dizzying climb—it was heady, hearing how much the shadow still wanted him, even, no, especially after so many nights unraveling each other.

“Shoyo,” he groaned now, “Shoyo, I’m…are you…? Shit, I’m close—”

“Me, too.” The gasped words brought a relieved sound, somewhere between a sigh and a groan, from deep in the shadow’s chest. “M’close, I’m so close—” He could feel himself approaching the peak, could see the release he’d almost had before looming again, even stronger than before.

He was going to come untouched. It was his first time taking the shadow, the first time the shadow had ever taken anyone, and it was still so breathtaking that he was going to come just from the shadow fucking into him and drawing slippery circles around his nipples.

His lips parted to warn the shadow of his orgasm before it crashed, but what he said instead was, “Kiss me. Kiss me, please, Okami-san, kiss m—mmh!”

The shadow obeyed, licking into his mouth and giving a gentle twist to his nipple. That was all Shoyo needed.

White burst behind his eyes, a respite from the oppressive dark of the room, even if it was only behind his closed lids. He could feel his body arch, brushing his messy nipples against the shadow’s chest and making him come even harder. Even though he’d asked for the kisses, he couldn’t keep up with them, not when his mouth was hanging open with moans and strangled gasps of, “Okami-sa—ahhhhn!”

“Fuck…oh, shit,” the shadow groaned back. He was thrusting so hard, so fast, that Shoyo could feel his entire body rocking with the force of his hips. His prostate felt almost bruised from the ceaseless pressure, leaving Shoyo whimpering as he slowly came down from his orgasm. There was one more thrust into his prostate, one more quiver of his body in response, one more clench on the cock driving into him, before the shadow came apart with a loud, groaned, “Shoyo…ah, Sho—”

Shoyo couldn’t find the air to speak, especially when his chest was stuttering from the feeling of getting filled up. He could feel, actually feel his walls getting painted white—he’d always taken precautions against that in the past. But not now. Not with his shadow.

With a final shudder, the shadow collapsed over Shoyo, just barely managing to catch himself in time to avoid crushing him and instead lower himself on him. They shared a shudder at the feeling of the already-cooling mess between them, but the shadow seemed loath to pull away, especially with his cock still half-hard in Shoyo, and Shoyo…Shoyo wasn’t sure he could move even if he’d wanted to.

Luckily, he was perfectly happy laying there, pressed into the soft futon by the shadow’s weight, only able to stroke his fingers through silky hair. “You okay?” he murmured when the shadow stayed a little too still for a little too long.

With a shift and a groan, the shadow pressed a kiss to Shoyo’s sternum before muttering, “I’m…I feel amazing. Tired, but amazing.”

“Me, too.” Shoyo smiled into the shadow’s hair. “You were amazing, Okami-san. Was that really your first time?”

“I…yeah. Haven’t really had another chance to do that before.”

Shoyo knew that, but it was still hard to believe, especially based on the body he’d come to know so well. He didn’t say any of that, though. He only said, “Thank you…for letting me be your first.”

“Mm…my first,” the shadow whispered, slowly easing up Shoyo’s body with a trail of kisses left behind, “and my last. If you’d let me.”

“And mine,” Shoyo breathed, guiding the shadow to his lips. “Everything I am is yours, Okami-san. All of it.”

They didn’t say anything else after that. Everything that they could say was shared in kisses and caresses and the shadow’s careful cleaning of their bodies (after he could get his muscles to cooperate). Shoyo was exhausted, but as he helped guide the shadow’s hand and cloth over the messy, most-sensitive parts of his body, he couldn’t help wondering if he could catch a second wind.

Then the shadow wrapped warm arms around him and pulled him into a warmer body, and sex became the furthest thing from Shoyo’s mind. In that moment, his sleepy, lovesick mind couldn’t fathom a better place to be than there, held by the man he loved beneath thick blankets in the home they shared.

The last thing he was aware of as he hovered at the edge of sleep, slipping into his mind and making him unsure if it was real or dreamed, was the feeling of soft lips brushing against his ear and forming words so quiet, barely a breath, that he almost couldn’t hear them at all.

“I love you.”

Okay I've had this stuck in my head ever since last night when I saw this post and I thought it would go away and it did not so now you get Hadestown!Codywan.

Yoda is Hermes, who took Obi-Wan!Orpheus under his wing (and sang it again and again)

Cody is Eurydice, who's ever only known the harsh weather of Kamino.

Until he meets Obi-Wan, who can sing so loud and bright that spring can will come again. And oh, Cody is skeptical. He is so, so skeptical because it's better to have low hopes and never be disappointed then put your faith in anyone. But Obi-Wan's song shakes the ground and stills the wind and leaves him warmer than he's been all season (but not too warm. Like... like spring used to be) and. Cody feels hope worm into his heart regardless.

And well, if he's falling in love too, nobody needs to know except them.

Persephone is Anakin, loud and bright and trying to make the best with the shitty cards he's been dealt. Because he's in an abusive partnership that absolutely nobody can do anything about because how do you do anything about the relationship between two larger-than-life gods? But he can spend his time back on top livin' it up, spreading warmth and joy and frantically speed-running the crop season as best he can for his people.

And, for a while, the earth is happy again.

But soon (too soon, always too soon these days) Hades comes knocking.

Hades is Palpatine in this au (NOT in a creepy shipping way because. Ew. They're just like working partners or semi-friends or something, they are not romantically or sexually involved) and he causes the storm to come up because he needs workers. And, as God of the Dead, what better way to get workers than by causing winter to come too early? And if Anakin's power comes back to him earlier and stays with him later to power Hadestown (Coruscant?) for longer, then there's an unintended (totally intended) bonus there too.

So the storm gathers and the wind comes up and Obi-Wan realizes he can stop it. He can sing his song, make the crops withering and dying on the vine stay longer for just a little bit longer. If he must, he can be Anakin when Anakin cannot stay. But he has to finish the song, he can't do anything until the song is finished. And Cody now knows of his power, so he goes out into the storm to find supplies and lets Obi-Wan be. But the storm is so strong, too strong. He cries his beloved's name because he believes in him and his abilities and if Obi-Wan can save the weather, he can save him.

But the wind, in its cruelness, snatches his words away. Obi-Wan does not hear. Cody is lost in the storm.

Cody wakes floating in the somewhere half-consciousness between life and death. Palpatine offers him a choice: come with him and have food to eat, a place to call home, his golden canary. Or stay with his poet, Palpatine sneers, and starve.

Cody wants Obi-Wan with all his heart. But when the chips are down, he is hungry.

Cody goes with the Emperor.

Obi-Wan finishes his song and looks for his muse, his love, his everything, only to find him... gone.

Where is he? He asks Yoda, his heart in his throat.

Want to know, why do you? Yoda asks, taking a large swing from a flask.

Wherever he is, is where I'll go. Obi-Wan answers firmly.

And so he goes. Down below, around the back, down the railroad tracks, to Coruscant. Surrounded by a wall thick and wide, meant to keep out intruders. The stones scream no loitering, no soliciting!

Go back where you came from!

You have no place here!

Then Obi-Wan sings his song, and the stones have no choice except to shake and sob and let him in.

Inside, he finds Cody, chip activated, eyes blank, memory halfway wiped, the edges of him already blurry.

And Cody doesn't remember his name, at first. But that's okay, because Cody remembers him, runs into his arms and sobs as Obi-Wan strokes his hair.

He whispers a thousand apologies into his ear. Cody dispels them all, looks him right in his eyes, and says You came, as though that was enough.

Young man.

And there is Palpatine, Anakin a half step behind him. Both of their eyes are yellow- the color of gold, the color of greed. Palpatine does all the talking, with an ever-present sneer and pulsing with power Obi-Wan knows is not entirely his own. Anakin stands behind him and vibrates with anger, but says nothing.

Obi-Wan doesn't have his papers. He is tossed out, left to the dogs.

That's okay. Obi-Wan is stubborn, and sly, and the wall is sympathetic to his songs.

It's him who starts the whispers, in the end. But shades, as it turn out, thrive on whispers.

Is it true? Is it true?

Nothing is more dangerous in an Empire than hope. And Obi-Wan... Obi-Wan gives them hope. He wish he could give them more but- no, the Force the Fates whisper. Not yet. It's not yet his time.

And Palpatine is furious. How does a single man sew so much chaos through everything he's built so quickly? No, there must be order, so Palpatine catches him and brings him in.

Power-drunk, and perhaps on the subconscious urging of Anakin who knows what Orpheus is truly capable of, he orders Obi-Wan to sing one more song before he executes him.

So he does. He strings his lyre and opens his mouth and pours his heart into a song of hope, of love, of warmth. The throne room is alight for the first time with the warmth of spring.

And see, here's where it gets complicated because Palpatine is truly evil just because he's evil. He really woke up one day and just chose galactic domination, there is nothing else there. So saying the love song thawed his cold dead heart is extremely ooc.

You know what isn't though?

The power of love empowering Anakin to challenge his Emperor.

Because Anakin remembered his love, lost because of Palpatine. He remembers his life, lost because of Palpatine. And he draws all the power back into himself and refuses to give any back to Palpatine.

The wall weakens. The control of the people weakens. Palpatine weakens.

Anakin says, Let's have a little chat, eyes narrowed and chips of blue ice.

They tell Cody and Obi-Wan to wait outside the door. Their argument swells and ebbs like the ocean, sometimes crescendoing so much that they can feel their voice's vibrations in their very bones. Cody holds Obi-Wan this time, as his scratchy voice recuperates, and tells him that he will happily spend the rest of his life with him, as soon as they get out of this.

Obi-Wan doesn't believe it to be real. Why would he chose a starving poet, again and again? Obi-Wan cannot give him what he needs, and Cody should just move on once they're back.

Cody kisses him fiercely and tells him Not a chance in hell.

The door opens. Yoda exits, looking older than ever.

A trick, it is not. A trial, it is.

Obi-Wan must walk in front and Cody in back, and Obi-Wan must be confident that Cody will always follow him even back into the cold and dark. Isn't that what love is, at the end of the day? Nothing more than trust?

We can trust each other.

And Obi-Wan allows himself to trust in Cody, in Yoda, even through his doubts.

He steps into the light, lets it wash over his face, and turns back with a smile half-curved across his features.

Cody is still in the dark.

They act fast, as fast as they can. Obi-Wan reaches for him just as Cody reaches for him, and they pull on each other's arms strong enough to rip their arms out of their sockets-

Or to switch positions; Cody in the light, and Obi-Wan fading into the dark. Nothing is left of him except his beloved lyre and his favorite cloak.

And Cody can no longer hold back his sobs. He kneels there, on the edge of the light and the dark, feeling the chip in his mind keeping him in Coruscant fizzle out, the last act of love from his incredible Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan... is gone.

And yet, Obi-Wan lives on.

He lives in the mind of Anakin, as he packs his bags for the last time and tells Palpatine that he's leaving, and don't you dare stop me.

He lives in the hearts of the workers, scaling the wall and running towards their brother worker, hoping for something better.

He lives in warmth surrounding the world like a blanket as Anakin and Cody and everyone else in the cantina raise their cups.

To Obi-Wan. Wherever he is, now.

An Unfinished Writing Masterlist

Because I don’t feel like tracking everything down right now. Sorry. Also some I just didn’t feel like including? They’re disowned now. I’m gonna sort these by fandom and Mountark.

Mountark (My Beloved)

The Series

Poison the Well; 17/? Chapters, Hermitcraft

A mining town can be a prison colony if I want it to be. And an unsolved murder can be a murder mystery any day.

A Good Deal - A Bad Decision; 1/1 Chapters, Hermitcraft

Committing to a bond has consequences. 

Despite Everything (It is still you); 1/2 Chapters, Hermitcraft

In which Pearl decides to finally have a conversation with Grian. It's long overdue.

Let our Love be a Flame not an Ember; 2/? Chapters, Empires SMP

The love story of a scam artist and an artist.

To Burn That Town To The Ground; 2/? Chapters, Empires SMP

Breaking News! The infamous Wither Rose Gang has finally been captured! Those damned Criminals will be brought before a Court of Law and finally face Justice!

Really there are only four people who aren't happy when the judge gives the sentence.

The Bard on the Church; 1/1 Chapters, Empires SMP

A very short thing with the only purpose of putting that lad in situations.

Aka Oli in Mountark, what will he do?

New Arrival; 1/1 Chapters, Empires SMP

Day 3 of Febuwhump: Joel arrives in the naughty corner.

It’s Ringing (It’s for you); 1/1 Chapters, Evo SMP

Day 18 of Febuwhump: The Police vs Watchers (Fail) (Not Clickbait)

Multiple (aka idfk)

Fish’s Library of Various One-Shots; 15/?

It comes to me in Dreams; 11/-

A collection of dreams from different worlds and visions of different lives. Aka I smush Evo, Empires, 3rd Life, Last Life and Hermitcraft into one crossover au.

Sorry I Came Back Wrong; 4/? Empires and Life Series Elements

The ankle had healed, the crush hadn't gotten better. And somehow since then everything and nothing at all had changed.

fWhip tries to deal with his crush and absolutely nothing goes wrong ever, not at all. - Can someone tell Grian to stop giving out weird shit? Also, why is his sister back in her magic phase?

FebuWhump 2023

Hermitcraft

All Dressed Up; 1/1 Chapters

In which Beef finds out that his boyfriend has a maid dress. That's it. 

Hitmen don’t get kidnapped by Spirits; 1/? Chapters

At least usually.

Iskall is not sure how he got into this situation. She's pretty sure it's better than prison though.

In which people need to stop vandalizing Cleo’s garden; 1/1 Chapters

Joe is about to contemplate the moral implications of encouraging two teenagers to commit murder before he realizes that he is friends with a god of death who runs a school that teaches teenagers to commit murder, and that is probably a train of thought he'll need a whole night for. 

A HC Soul Eater AU

Hiking Log; 1/1 Chapters

Day 22 of Febuwhump: "Joe turned the camera to the path again and he stopped the footage. The frame was blurry, still moving and slightly tilted. But there between the trees. There it was."

Empires SMP (Season 1, Season 2)

Fish writes made up Empires lore; the Series

Including such beloved titles as Lost to the Waves (Do you remember Home?) (3/3 Chapters), FFA: Fishfuckers Anonymous (8/8 Chapters), The Mad King (3/? Chapters), Witness me , Old Man, I am the Wild (2/? Chapters), Walking through Homes (2/? Chapters) and  It all Starts to Sound like Applause (18/? Chapters)

They don’t get engaged in this; 1/1 Chapters

Scott gives Jimmy his coat to keep him warm, not thinking much of it. Jimmy freaks out because six months is very early for a proposal.

Through the Snow; 3/? Chapters

The world is in a state of eternal winter. Mages, priests and scientists search for a way to bring back spring at any cost. The reincarnations of the old Emperors are no more than a wishful thought. Or are they?

Cactus Flower; 1/1 Chapters

"He's alive?" he whispered. The eye of the Vigil stared down at him and the tiny candle. It wouldn't let it burn. "He's alive," Pixlriffs repeated and felt tears gather in his eyes. There was still a chance they'd find him.

In which Pixlriffs loses his son and the King of Mezalea gains one.

Sinking Teeth; 4/? Chapters

It's one in the morning and he presses down on the gas pedal uncaring of the speed limit.

It's one in the morning and Joel is dying on his passenger seat.

The Art of Shutting the Fuck Up (And other Mezalean Specialties); 2/? Chapters

In my stay I have discovered many things about Mezalea, its people and their culture. And since I started because of the disappointing small section on Mezalea in the Crystal Cliffs Library, I am presenting my discoveries here, in this journal, for others to read and learn more. Out of respect for the Mezaleans I will omit a few details but still, I was able to learn a lot that I don't believe they'll object to me sharing.

Everything you Wish, Everything but Freedom; 1/? Chapters

Corrupted Scott manipulates Jimmy and traps him.

 But our Flowers are Withered, the Leaves Blown to Dust; 16/? Chapters

It was something so inherently Grimmish, to give someone a piece of unprocessed Redstone as a sign of affection, something so fWhip that he couldn't help but smile. What a weird custom. How wonderful. How wonderful that he was the one fWhip had chosen to give it to.

Meteor Shower; 13/13 Chapters - Multi Dimensional Big Bang Fic

It starts with a notification from his calender app, reminding fWhip that he meant to actually see his friends from school again at some point. He decides to try and reach out and before he knows it they're spending two weeks of vacation together. The twelve of them. The old gang. Just like they used to.

And then the meteor crashes.

Nebula; 1/1 Chapters

There's nothing someting everything wrong with Joel. aka The only normal person in the group [post meteor]. aka How do you go back to normal when the stranger in the mirror is wearing your skin? When you're wearing a stranger's skin? How do you know who is who?

(A sequel to my fic Meteor Shower. Read that before you read this, it'll make more sense)

Star-forming Regions; 2/? Chapters

Lizzie and Joel being platonically in love throughout the years. Wait... that's not... What is going on? (Part of the Meteor Shower AU)

Let’s Play A Game (Where We Both Lose); 1/1 Chapters

Do not challenge the gods, that's what all the fables and legends say. So really, Pixlriffs should know better.

Pixlriffs and Joel make a bet.

Can’t Wake From This; 7/? Chapters

Jimmy goes to sleep at home with his boyfriend and wakes up somewhere else. As he tries to navigate his strange circumstances, somewhere else he is presumed dead. It's not like anything can happen to him though, he's fine.

Right?

Break the Mold; 1/1 Chapters

One thing that never got old, no matter how long Joel was in this business, was waking up in a place he couldn't remember getting to. Todays mystery place was quite bright. He could tell even with closed eyes.

The Crown Academy; 1/? Chapters

On the 1st of October 1989, fourty-three women gave birth. This was unusual only in the fact that none of these women had been pregnant when the day first began. Eccentric millionaire Sir Reginald Hargreeves set out to adopt as many of these children as he could.

(He got thirteen)

King of the Endless Meza; 1/1 Chapters

The Return of the King Or; The King of Mezalea is many things, but most importantly, he is supposed to be dead for over a thousand years.

Myself as a Construct; 1/1 Chapters

There's a dead king in Tumble Town. Again. Or; The Sheriff knows trouble when he sees it, but that doesn't mean he understands it. So when the stranger leaves and the God returns he is actually glad. And then it happens again. This time Pixlriffs won't have to murder him afterwards.

Don’t You Hear It Breathing?; 1/? Chapters

Welcome to our little town! I'm sure you'll settle in fine. Just... ignore the calls at night. And don't go into the woods after dark. Not that there is anything unusual about this place, of course. Just be careful.

Heimweh; 1/1 Chapters

Jimmy can't help but feel like everyone's going to leave him one day.

Ah, yes, Me, my Boyfriend, my Boyfriend, a Zombie, my Boyfriend and his 1,50m Stuffed Donkey; 1/1 Chapters

They go on a fair date. That's pretty much it.

Life SMP

They Scratch and Bite and Bark; 1/2 Chapters

In which Joel gets adopted by a pack of dogs against his will.

Or something.

After Life SMP

It’s the Same Old Flames; 1/1 Chapters

Lizzie remembers nothing of her live but something is all too familiar about Joel.

I know that After Life has nothing to do with Empires but I have elected to ignore that ^-^

Dream SMP

they exist. i think there’s three of them

He Slayed The MInotaur; 3/4 Chapters

A monster makes its home near the icy village Octorso Glen. But that's okay. If a monster settles, a hero will come to defeat it. That's how it is in all the stories Phil tells them when they can't sleep at night. They just have to wait.

Techno had never been very patient.

A Universal Language; 1/1 Chapters

Day 9 of Febuwhump: How to make yourself heard without speaking 101.

Idea.

A cold night in the park. Minju: “oppa im cold”.

You: stupidly hug your baby to warm her

Minju: looks at you angrily! Daddy I need your hot baby batter to warm me up inside

You: 😉

The Night Settles In

IZ*ONE's Kim Minju x Male Reader Smut

Inspiration: this ask and @kaedewrites' post: “@.iznsfw Minju sex in the park when?”

Today, Kaede. Here's an unedited quickie just for you and anon here ;) Now I'm off. I'm too tired.

Snow paints every tree along your path a cloudy white. A cool wind blows through the park from time to time, so if lucky you can sometimes catch a twinkling snowflake by plucking it out of thin air. If you aren't lucky, you are met with an empty glove and disappointment.

But you won't let snowflakes define your luck. With the girl who owns your heart strolling with you in a night lit by street lamps planted on the sides of the road and the stars in the sky, you are a walking four-leaf clover; you are the luckiest man in the world.

You love these aimless strolls in the park with your girlfriend, Minju. But today, the wintry weather makes you love these little dates even more. The snowflakes that fall from the sky somehow provide a comforting solace within you, even though they are freezing cold when they land on your face or your stuck-out tongue. And with Minju's hand around yours, no amount of cold could get to you.

That isn't the case for her though. While your eyes rake across the sight of withering snowmans and snow-caked park benches, your ears could detect a whine from her.

"Oppa."

You return your focus onto her. There she is beside you, huddled in your white padded winter jacket with her hands making sleeve paws in it.

So adorable.

"Yeah?" you ask her.

She makes a whimpery sound and shivers. "I'm cold."

You chuckle; Minju is such a cutie. She never fails to draw a smile out of you, and how couldn't she when she's there flashing you the most adorable pout ever and shivering like a puppy after a bath?

"I thought foxes liked snow," you remark cockily, hinting at the animal Minju resembles the most. But you open your arms and allow your girlfriend to make herself comfortable between them.

You put a pause your little stroll date to warm Minju. You hug her as tight as you can in, her head in between your shoulder and your arm, and give her a few kisses on the cheek despite your cold chapped lips. Mwah, mwah, mwah.

"Better?" you inquire.

"No," she says, shaking her head. "I need something else."

"I didn't bring any hot packs, Joo. I'm sorry, I'll bring some next time."

"Not that! I need something else."

"What is it?"

"It's something only you can give, daddy."

You immediately understand what she's hinting at when you hear the honorific.

Look down at Minju and you can see the naughty grin on her face. Despite knowing what she means, hesitation still holds you back.

"Here? Right now?" you ask uncertainly.

You look around the park. Nobody is around right now because of the night that is settling in. It's just you, Minju and the pinecone trees, but still!

"Of course!" Minju answers. "Wouldn't you do everything just to keep Mingming warm? Minju wants your hot cum inside her, pretty please, daddy?"

Her sparkling eyes absolutely rob you of any common sense left in you. Who could resist giving this girl the world when she's this cute?

The fluffy date night quickly twists into something else. Realizing how hot Minju looks even with the jacket covering most of her body, you tug off Minju's shorts till they dangle off one of her legs and lift her up. Your lips and hers connect and eagerly search for a taste of each other; eyes closed, Minju lets you nibble on her lower lip while your tongue curls around hers. The moan she lets out brings your cock to half-erectness needed to deliver out your girlfriend's plea.

You pin Minju to the nearest streetlight. Now your hands are free to grip her buff thighs instead, pulling them apart while Minju's hands return similar assistance by unzipping your pants. Soft moans and satisfied sighs continue to fill the cold air.

"Come on, daddy, give Minju what she wants." Minju is certainly demanding, but she helps you meet her needs by wrapping a gloved hand around your dick and jacking it off. You groan at the feeling of the fabric caressing your cock veins. "Fill Minju with your hot cum. Fuck!"

No more wasting time, no more extensive foreplay. You thrust into Minju's tight cunt, hissing at the way her walls immediately clamp down onto you. If she's this tight this early on, you can easily give her what she wants: your load inside her.

You begin with slow yet sharp thrusts. Minju whimpers, biting her lower lip while her long legs curl around you like snakes. You would be glad to be poisoned by this snake though, you joke to yourself. But the chuckle that would have gotten out of you is replaced by a groan upon hearing Minju's girlish moans.

Her tight pussy is coating every inch of your cock with her infamous Kim Minjuice. You make sure to lather it completely with her by slamming your shaft harsher until you are balls deep inside her. Minju's thighs squeezing around you also help you with the task at hand—wait, maybe "at dick" fits this statement better.

"Fuck, baby," Minju yelps, squeezing her eyes shut as you drag your dick out of her till only the tip remains inside and slam it all back in. "Faster! Faster, oh fuck, you're stretching me so well."

And you are: Minju's walls practically part to welcome you in. Her vagina hugs your shaft so tightly that each thrust rubs all her sensitive spots, all the right places.

Your ego swelling with pride, you trail your hand to her wide hips so your thumb could rub circles over her sensitive nub. The moment you do that, she lets out a high-pitched gasp, more juices spilling from her cunt and dripping down her thighs.

Minju's hips rise and spasm so her clit could nestle even more into your thumb. She desperately tries to get you to stimulate it, but you teasingly refuse to. What adds more to her frustration is the sudden slow thrusts.

"What the fuck! You're so annoying," she protests whinily. Her hips begin to move by their own to try and get herself off, but it just isn't enough. "Come on, keep going!"

She's so cute when she's angry. You pretend to be ignorant of her pleads and instead chastise her with a: "Careful, Minju. You're being too loud."

"And you're being too slow! What if I—oh fuck."

She curses when you resume the rough thrusts without warning. That definitely shut her up, you notice; her eyes are closed again but her mouth is wide open.

You close her mouth by closing the little distance between you with a kiss. Her walls contract and squeeze you tighter than ever, but you manage to keep the thrusts steady and consistent. After all, without a proper pace, you wouldn't be able to give Minju what she wants.

You do not want Minju to get cold, so if this were any other situation, you would have zipped up her jacket. However, seeing each thrust cause a delicious bounce from her handful-sized boobs makes you thrust in her faster.

You squeeze at one of them, leaning in to suck at her nipple. It's erect from the cold, so your tongue swirling around it feels even colder to Minju. She yelps a little, but her hands pulling you closer from the back of your head easily tells you that she enjoys it.

"Mmph, ahh, oh fuck, I'm close."

"Already?" you tease, giving her breast one final kiss.

"Oh, shut up! It's your fault anyway!" Minju answers. "And besides, you're—wait, no, please don't stop. I'm almost there."

"Fuck, so am I."

"Cum inside me, daddy. Cum inside your little cumsleeve. She wants it—she wants it so fucking… bad!"

Minju's whimpery gasp comes out in the air as a smoky wisp when your thrust become quicker, aimless.

She buries her face in the crook of your neck heavily, biting down on it.

"So close, so close, so close, soclose!" Minju's words come out in high-pitched whines when she cums with you. She clenches down on you so tightly that she finally gets what she wants:

Buried deep inside her, your tip spews ropes and ropes of cum into her. Some stick out and onto her thighs, but you do your best to fuck them all into her.

"Ah! That's better!" Minju gives you a satisfied kiss. "Thank you, daddy!"

today I feel awful... idk my insecurities are taking over me and I just want to curl into a ball and cry. maybe it's my hormones maybe the fact that I weighted myself and found out I gained weight (I can't fit into my jeans 😭) and the fact that I saw my sister in a tight skin dress looking perfect while I'm in my pj's just destroyed my confidence. I need something angsty to read to make me forget about my sad, miserable lffe right now. would you be down in writing sth angsty with nat maybe? you don't have to though. it's fine either way. I really appreciate all of your work and I keep reading on repeat whenever I'm feeling down. makes me cheer up. thank you, van ❤️

It's like we're the same person because I also went to visit my sister recently and my sister has gotten her life together and is living her best hot girl bod while I...let's not go there.

I just want you to know that you're hot as fuck and a body is just a body that we can change with time and effort. We're lit rally in this together. This time next year, we will be rocking the body that makes up happy and we'll be healthy!!! 💘💘

But I will still give you nat angst...but with a happy ending bc I said you deserve a HEA!!

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The Withers of Springtime Bloom

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: Spring is a time of blooming and when things come back to life. You can't help but notice things that may be causing your relationship with Natasha to wither.

Warnings: self-esteem issues, insecurities about body, relationship with working out and food, seasonal depression. angst with HEA.

Count: 2.1k~

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You're not sure when things changed.

Things change so slowly after all.

Without you noticing, things change and change and change until one day, you do notice.

You notice that Natasha has become quieter, somber.

You notice the lack of date nights and affectionate touches.

You notice that you've let yourself go a little.

You're standing in front of the mirror, staring at your body with a frown. You've gained weight since dating Natasha, but relationship weight gain was normal, wasn't it?

But you remember how Natasha was just as fit as she was before she met you. Sure, she was a superhero, and you were a regular civilian; there was no reason for you to train long hours as Natasha did.

Still...

You turn to the side and peer at yourself in the mirror again.

You can't help but wonder...were you becoming less attractive to her?

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It had been the beginning of fall when you met Natasha. You loved the season of change and when things turned into warm colors before withering away for winter to come.

Natasha had come like a blessing, and in the winter, she was just warm as the colors of fall. Instead of withering away, she bloomed and invested that warmth in your relationship with her.

Despite always being an early riser to work out, weekends were the days she stayed in bed with you just a little longer. There had been so many breakfasts, lunch, and dinner dates. You found yourself moving things around or neglecting to work around her busy schedule.

Perhaps that was when things began to change. Eating out so often and forgoing working out to spend time with Natasha was what led to this.

Spring has arrived, and things are coming back to life. Yet somehow, your relationship with Natasha was withering away.

"Hey," you greet her as you come home, shopping bags in hand. You bought some more clothes when things felt like they didn't fit comfortably anymore. The experience had been upsetting for you, and you didn't end up buying too much, telling yourself you didn't want to spend too much when you were going to lose the weight.

Natasha was working in her office, peering down over reports, and barely acknowledged you other than with a hum.

"Long day?" You ask her as you put your things away and walk over to her.

"Yeah," Natasha sighed. "Trying to get these reports done since Maria needs them tomorrow."

That had been Natasha's excuse for spending long hours in her office every night for the last two weeks.

You place your hand on Natasha's shoulder with a reassuring squeeze, but she leans to the side as if to readjust herself, but still away from your touch.

The sting immediately comes, but you try to push it down, so it doesn't hurt as bad.

"Right," you say hoarsely, but Natasha stares on at the reports. "I'm just going to get ready for bed. It's been a long day and all. Let me know if you need anything."

Natasha gives you a nod as you leave the room. You feel awkward as you lie in the bed you share with her. You wonder if you're taking up too much space.

There's a pang of something as you try to curl yourself to be smaller and only distantly realizing you've skipped dinner before you fall asleep.

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You fall back onto the mat, chest heaving and your lungs burning.

It's been a while since you've worked out, and now you're definitely paying for it with how unfit you are.

The gym is moderately empty with the hour it is. You hate going to a public gym because it always feels like someone is staring, but it's better for strangers to stare than working out at the Compound for people you know to stare at you.

The rational part of you knows that you should just talk to Natasha, but the emotional side of you whispers that you won't like what Natasha has to say, that she might even end it before you've had a chance to change yourself.

When weeks pass, and you weigh yourself again, you almost start crying because you've only lost a couple of pounds.

It's normal, you know it is. You're losing weight at a normal rate, but it's not enough. You know fast weight loss wouldn't make sense for your body but you also feel you don't have half a year to go back to your normal weight.

You sit on the bathroom floor for hours, debating what to do when you hear a quiet knock.

"Sweetheart, are you in there?" Natasha's muffled voice comes through.

You wipe at your eyes furiously as you stand up.

"Y-Yeah," you answer back. "I'm just in the tub soaking."

There's a moment of silence through the door before Natasha answers back, "Alright. Enjoy yourself. Did you want me to order anything specific for dinner?"

"No, it's okay," you tell her. "You order anything you want. I already ate on my way home." You think about the chicken salad you've been eating for the past two weeks and almost sigh.

Natasha answered that she just came back to see if you've eaten, but she actually had to head back to the Compound. You were Natasha shuffling around before leaving through the front door, and you let out the breath you were holding.

You actually take a long, hot shower before putting on sweats and a big hoodie.

The truth was, you were hungry. The chicken salad was okay on the way home, but it had been a couple of hours since.

You knew starving yourself wasn't the answer, so you went into the kitchen to see if you could find something healthy to hold you over until you could go to bed.

But you can't find anything in the fridge except for Natasha's leftovers from whatever she ordered the day before. You can't find anything except frozen pizzas and microwavable foods.

You check the calories on the back and let out a frustrated sigh. Checking your watch, you realize it's too late in the evening to go grocery shopping because, by the time you get there, stores will have closed.

You slump down on the floor, leaning against the cabinets as you let out a pathetic whimper while your eyes became hot with tears.

You miss Natasha. You want Natasha holding you and telling you it would be okay. But you couldn't have that until you were back to what you were when you met her.

The front door suddenly opens.

"Have you seen my—sweetheart?" Natasha started to call before she noticed you sitting on the floor. "What's wrong?"

You use your sleeve to wipe at your eyes as you sit up straight.

"Nothing," you sniffle before you start to stand. "I just stubbed my toe against the edge of the kitchen island. What were you looking for? USB? You left it next to the bedside."

Natasha stares at your back, hair still wet as she takes in your attire.

"It's a little hot to be wearing a hoodie and sweats, isn't it?" Natasha asks softly. "Doesn't seem like you turned on the aircon in here."

You keep walking, but Natasha starts to follow you.

"'m cold," you say quietly so she can't hear the tremble in your voice.

"Are you feeling sick?" Natasha asks with concern as you sit down on the couch, turning on the TV. You pull the blanket over you as if to make your point.

"No," you tell her because you don't want her to worry. "Just cold after a bath."

Natasha sets her things down before she takes a seat next to you. Even in the low lighting, she can see your eyes rimmed red and dampness of them.

You're refusing to look at her as you have your knees drawn up to your chest and stare stubbornly at the TV screen.

Then she hears it.

Your stomach grumbles.

"Are you hungry, sweetheart?" Natasha asks softly again. "We can just order food and stay in tonight."

Your cheeks grow hot. "Don't you have to be at the Compound?"

You don't mean to snap at her, but you can't help but feel embarrassed.

Natasha remains quiet for a moment, quickly thinking over the last few weeks before she feels guilt trickle in.

She doesn't remember the last time she ate with you—doesn't remember the last time she saw you eat.

"Sweetheart," she calls you gently again, and you bristle at the tone. "Is there something wrong?"

The fragile dam you've built to keep the weeks of compiling emotions at bay breaks, and you're hurtling down the stream over the waterfall.

"Are you not in love with me anymore?" You choke out as you begin to cry.

You can't even register to feel horrified at your breakdown because you just need to know.

"I know...I know my body has changed since we first met and I've gained weight but I really am trying to lose it. I just—I feel like you're avoiding me. At first, I thought things at work have been really stressful for you, and I wanted to give you space but you're gone all the time. You're gone even when you're here."

Natasha can barely understand anything you've said after hearing you say the first part. Her breath hitches painfully in the back of her throat, and she legitimately feels appalled at herself.

She starts to say something, but you keep going.

"I'm sorry, I don't want to make this about me because if you're going through something then I want to support and be there for you. But I can't help but feel like you're grossed out by me. I mean—I feel grossed out when I look at myself. I feel like I'm taking up so much space—"

Natasha cuts you off abruptly, pulling off the blanket as she pulls at you until you're in her lap.

"Nat—"

"You're not gross and this is not about the weight you have or have not gained. You hear me?" Natasha says forcefully as she holds you close to her, hand over your thigh to keep you against her.

"God, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry if I've been making you feel like you're not attractive me," Natasha's eyes well up as your tears wet her shoulder. "You're literally still the most gorgeous person I've ever met and you're always going to be that to me."

Natasha's hand at your waist dips underneath your hoodie, her fingers trailing up your back as she sighs at your warmth. "I should've told you, but the springtime is just really hard for me. It's odd because it's a time for things to come back to life but some of the worst things have happened to me during the spring and things blooming makes me think about things that aren't coming back. I think it's also just a little bit of seasonal depression too. I'm just the rare percentage that gets it in the spring."

The explanation makes your body sag with relief because while you feel so horrible that there is a reason Natasha doesn't like spring, she's not falling out of love with you.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize that I was hurting you," Natasha apologizes again. "I didn't mean to be so distant but I didn't want to bring your mood down as well, which is why I've been working so much to keep busy."

"It's okay," you muttered as your turn your head, forehead pressed against her neck. "I'm sorry spring is depressing for you."

Natasha merely hushes you as she kisses the side of your head.

You begin to feel awkward, thinking about how you must be heavy on her and try to move, but Natasha doesn't let you.

"Sweetheart, I don't know how to convince you that you're perfect to me," Natasha says so seriously as she forces you to look at her. "If you want to lose weight because that is what you want, then I support you. But I need you to understand that I love you no matter what. I don't care either way because you're so fucking lovely to me always. Do you understand?"

Timidly, you reply, "Okay. Thank you."

Natasha presses her lips against yours in a long kiss before she pulls back.

"Now, I'm going to ask again. Are you hungry? We can order in and watch that new show on Netflix I heard was pretty good from Wanda."

You feel lighter. You think you might still want to work out because that would make you happy, but you don't feel the rush like you did just a couple of hours ago.

"Yeah," you say shyly. "But maybe something not so heavy?"

Natasha nods as she presses another kiss into your cheek as she helps you settle onto the couch right beside her to grab her phone.

"Anything to make you bloom."

Like a flower

Technoblade X GN! cottage core! reader

Warnings: none, maybe some slight anxiety from Techno

Word count: 1K

Synopsis: Moving towards the tundra inhabited by Techno and Phil, Technoblade becomes nervous about the effect the change of envoirement would have on you. He ends up having nothing to worry about however. Reader has a bright / cottage core type vibe. 

Requested: no

A/n: Bit more poetic and different from what i usually write, and written within one evening of caffeine induced energy. but has been proofread and i actually kinda like it? Shorter than normal but i just wanted to get something out. Enjoy!

Rules, Masterlist

Somehow, he had expected them to wither away by his hands, like many of life's creations had done. Whether it had been the lives of his enemies, his comrades or anything else he seemed to touch, they all seemed to die by his hands one way or another. Ironically enough, the only person that had stayed with him as an old friend was the angel of death himself.

He had always thought the coldness and lifelessness of the tundra fit him, in a way no one understood better than himself. He found friends within the wolves that once had hunted the lands, and the ice bears that had curiously decided to check out his shack. The voices within his mind would grow louder with the days, barely supressed by the louder winds that raged over the lands.

They demanded blood, companionship, they laughed at his every move and blurred his rational thoughts like a blizzard. As long as his hands remembered the curl of his fist, the hilt of his sword, they would continue their screams for blood. Technoblade often wondered if he would ever be given such mercy.

It was because of that he was certain they would freeze to death in the cold lands, by his colder hands stained with a never-ending death.

Somehow, they had always reminded Techno of spring, with warm lazy afternoons and blooming flowery field, trees that provided shade as nature started over once more. The beginning of new life.

It was that warmth he was sure would ebb away when they would join him in the tundra, their life-stained hands turning blue as they froze and slowly withered away little by little. God knew how long he had tried to prevent them from joining the snowy lands, where there was no shade or sun, a place caught in an eternal winter.

With warm eyes and kind smiles he was certain that would turn cold, lifeless as they were caught inside of a cabin for God knows how long. Maybe, he had hoped, they would leave before it'd ever get to that point and return to their previous life.

He would be content watching them from afar, despite the screams echoing through his mind to have them all to himself. He would visit, watching them make tea on a stove of a small cabin, though it was more than enough for them. With gardens that would grow their food, with bees floating gently in the sun as they pollinated the flowers of the never-ending spring they provided. Something he could never have hoped to have to himself.

Then. When they'd invite him in, for tea, or lunch, or something they baked, from which he'd smelled the alluring scent from the garden away, he'd politely refuse, insisting he had wolves, foxes and bears to feed. Though he wasn't wrong he knew the animals would be well provided for, for at least days on end.

But he had promised himself he wouldn't invade, nothing more than a knock on the door at least, so their clean hands wouldn't get affected by his death-stained ones.

His fears appeared nothing more than his imagination as they had insisted on moving to the tundra to help around the cabins when he'd be gone with Phil, to feed the animals that would always make him skip their offers.

He'd personally overseen the construction of their cabin, close, but not linked, to his and Phil's. Yet as soon as they moved in, he would've sworn the layers of snow became thinner as he approached. Though the outside looked somewhat grim, with latches in front of windows to protect against cold winds and blizzards, the inside became the warmest place inside the entire tundra.

With plants in the windowsills, the scent of sweetness in the air and warmth inside the cabin it seemed as if they'd created their own little spring filled with life of all different kinds inside the tundra. Sunlight became needless in the warmth of the fireplace, and vegetable gardens were replaced with a rack of plants for spices.

When he'd return from his travels with Phil, their home became a little warmer, as he added whatever souvenir he had found on his travels to their ever-growing collection, displayed ever so neatly upon shelfs decorating the halls. In turn they'd lit the fireplace in his cabin when they knew he'd return, with wildflowers from a nearby forest placed neatly in a vase on the table and took care of his animals as long as he was gone, more often than not, he'd find some sort of basket with baked goods upon the table beside the flowers.

Then, in the warmth of their private little spring, amidst the unending winter, he'd tell them about his travels to faraway lands, creating stories within their mind with each word he spoke. With a cup of warm tea in his hand, the voices were the quietest they had ever been, not daring to intrude on the moment.

Vigil's Keep

“—Oriana…

—It’s Commander now, Your Majesty.”

Or: After the attack on Vigil’s Keep, Alistair and Oriana reunite for the first time since the slaying of the Archdemon.

Hi again! So, this keeps the storyline stablished in previous fics, Newbie, A lamppost in winter and Wild. In this I STRONGLY start headcanoning because...well, you'll see 😉.

Anyway, one shot under cut, around 1k-2k words, not very long, featuring Alistair x the Warden, yearning and angst. Also, Oriana does not like templars and it shows.

Enjoy!

Oriana Tabris is exhausted.

She knows she’s out of shape; she hasn’t fought in months, and the armor is significantly tighter than it was before. The metal plats nail her flesh in an uncomfortably way around the abdomen that has yet to return to its former shape, around the breasts that now are fuller; the boots feel heavy and the gauntlets are making her hands sweaty. She has not had a proper night of sleep in weeks. The cramps in her lower back are getting worse. Every time she turns around, she’s sure she’s hearing him cry for her. Part of her wonders why she has not sent Loghain to do this; the world knows the bastard has earnt the privilege of doing all the tasks she is not up to for the rest of their lives. He would have deserved it.

But yet, there she is.

When she extracts the sword from that talking darkspawn, (The Withered, had he called himself?), Seneschal Varel lets out a high-pitched sigh of relief.

—I owe you my life, Commander. Thank the Maker, you have arrived.

Oriana almost rolls her eyes. “Me. Not the Maker. Me” she wants to say. But she’s tired, and uncomfortable, and she misses Kieran like one would miss a severed limb, so, instead, she asks about the attack. He does not answer; before he can, the far-away sound of horses and the tingling of armors makes itself audible in the middle of the pouring rain.

—It seems we have more company. Hopefully, they’re most hospitable than our previous guests —he says, gaze stuck in the gates of the Keep, those she has ran over like a raging, declining demon just half an hour ago.

Oriana takes a look in his eyes’ direction and the punch in the gut is so hard she almost gets out of air.

Even in the distance, those colors are unmistakable.

The colors that had been Cailan’s.

The colors that now are his.

At her side, Oghren lets out a snort.

—Spank me, this is gonna be interesting…

She just ignores him.

“Please be Anora, please be Anora, please be Anora” she begs to a Maker she’s sure doesn’t listen, as they wait for the Royal party to reach the gates.

But no. Of course not.

He walks in, fast pacing, shining golden armor in his body and gesture of worry in his frown, flanked by a female Templar and followed by dozens of soldiers armed to the teeth. Drops of rain hit his rebel dark blond hair, his tan skin, his long bright eyelashes; his eyes wander over the whole place with a focused look she knows so well it hurts.

They haven’t seen each other since the slaying of the Archdemon, since she left Denerim with no intentions of becoming his secret to keep. The last time they spoke, she swore she wouldn’t make of him an oath to worship.

—King Alistair!

Beside her, Mhairi kneels. Oriana doesn’t; she’s sure she won’t get up if she does. She might just lie there in the mud, letting it swallow her while the tiredness lures her to sleep. That sounds so much better than face King Alistair.

King Alistair and his bloody warm smile, his damned relief when he sees they’re all unharmed. When he sees her.

Alistair knows her body. As good as she herself does. So Oriana prays he doesn’t notice her hips are wider, her breasts fuller, her stance a bit different from an exhaustion so unlike any other she has suffered in her life. Two weeks ago, she was birthing his son. If she has her way, however, he’ll never get to know that.

—It looks I arrived a bit late. Too bad. I was looking forward to the whole darkspawn-killing thing —he jokes, and it’s like the taint is burning in her veins again. Then, he looks at her. His eyes soften, the laugh in his mouth disappears. The longing is undeniable when her name escapes from his lips, like a prayer, like an oath—: Oriana…

She forgot how to pray a long time ago.

—It’s Commander now, Your Majesty.

Her words are as sharp as her sword, as cold as the steel she used to slay that Archdemon and seal their destiny. Alistair thinks he probably deserves it, her coldness and disdain, but still hurts like she had run her very same sword over his chest. The pain in his eyes is evident to everyone, and he doesn’t even bother concealing it.

He doesn’t notice the changes in her body; the armor does a great job hiding those. He does notice that she seems tired. No, not tired: drained. The most exhausted he has ever seen her, and, because he has seen her in some of the darkest moments of her life, the worry floods over him as the first tide of the disaster. Yet, Alistair can’t help but notice she is as beautiful as the day he lost her.

He wants to ask. He wants to know where she’s been those past six months, how she’s doing, what has happened. He wants to ask her so many things he’d be talking until sunrise. Instead, he just chooses one:

—Are you hurt?

She wants to tell him to stop. She wants to tell him he can’t be that same caring idiot she fell so hard in love with because that’s not what they are anymore. They can’t be. Because she can’t endure being reminded of how much she still loves him.

—We’re fine.

—I wanted to come, give the Wardens a formal welcome. Then news about this arrived at court and… I was not expecting… I’m sorry I couldn’t reach you sooner —he fidgets with his fingers, like he always does when he’s nervous, and the familiarity gives Oriana a sudden urge to cry. Bloody hormones, she thinks, when she finds herself wondering if Kieran will inherit that from him. He expects her to interrupt him, to bark at him a grumpy “We’ve got this under control” or something like that, but she says nothing. So, instead, he clears his throat and asks—: So…what’s the situation?

Oriana peeks a glance to Seneschal Varel, who immediately explains what has happened. He says the Orlesian wardens are either dead or missing, and, out of habit, Oriana and Alistair exchange a look. She hates that there’s still an evident complicity between them; he is so relieved that he could sing.

They have been taken by the darkspawn, and they both know what that means. Without a Blight, however, it’s strange that the darkspawn are acting like that, and once again Oriana fears for what that means.

He says it’s a relief that the Hero of Ferelden is there and alive, and Oriana wants to punch him because she hates that bloody title, because she never wanted to be a leader much less a hero and she shouldn’t be alive to begin with. But she refrains those thoughts because now she can’t afford them. Now, Kieran needs her. And the sooner she is done with all that shit, the sooner Alistair is back in court, the sooner she can return to her son. So she answers with a blunt “The Hero of Ferelden will handle this” that chills Alistair’s spine, because no one better than him knows how far the Hero of Ferelden can go to carry on with her duty.

—I…can help. I can stay and help.

Her faces clenches with anger; a soft glimmer of betrayal reignites in her eyes. If he had wanted to stay, he could have sent Eamon to hell when he had the chance.

—Ferelden needs its King working to rebuild it, not running around fighting darkspawn!

He tries not to be hurt by her rejection.

—You don’t have to do this alone.

—Hey! And what am I? Chopped nug livers?

Oriana has never loved Oghren’s big, lousy, ill-timed mouth as much as she does in that moment. The banter that follows between the dwarf and the mage, Anders, convinces her that those two must be her new recruits. And that idea only grows stronger when the Templar at Alistair’s side steps in to arrest the mage. Oriana then remembers why she hates Templars so much: they treat mages as well as the nobility treat her people in the Alienage.

—Apostate or not, this man has done nothing but saving a lot of lives here, this night, my lady —she interrupts, with that dangerous glimmer in her eyes that makes Alistair warm inside.

—He’s a murderer! —the Templar protests, and then Anders protests, and Oriana is too tired for all this shit.

—Last time I checked, this place was under Wardens’ protection and responsibility, and so is this man!

Alistair had almost forgotten how much he enjoys Oriana angering Templars. The woman is fuming.

—The Chantry’s authority-!

—The Chantry’s authority means nothing to me. I have a right and I’m going to use it —Oriana replies, and, suddenly, she is no longer Oriana, but the Commander of the Grey the Blight has turned her into.

The woman Alistair forced her to become, he reminds himself with a bitter thought.

When she pronounces the words that placed the last nail in their coffin months ago, she does not hesitate:

—I hereby conscript this man for the Grey Wardens.

He replies immediately:

—I will allow it.

His eyes do not leave hers as he speaks and Oriana wants to yell at him, hit him, scream at him, because he doesn’t have a right to look at her like that anymore. He knows too, but, Maker, he can’t help it. He tries to remember he has a wife, that he’s supposed to love another woman, that he’s made vows. But every inch of him is yearning for Oriana, yelling at him that he made a terrible mistake that night after the Landsmeet, that day he took Anora’s hand and swore to honor her as his wife while his heart still belonged to another and his mind was covered in thoughts of her. He had hoped the need would eventually diminish, but those six months have only made it more urgent, more consuming, more powerful.

He clears his throat.

—I see you have everything under control, Commander. But I still would like to stay, see if I can be of help. At least this night.

“I want to stay. I need to talk to you”, he’s saying.

She doesn’t care. She’s tired, she misses her baby, and she misses him. She still loves him as much as the day they conceived Kieran.

But she really doesn’t care.

She has an order to rebuild.

—Do as you please. The Seneschal can fill you in anything you precise. I have some matters that require my attention.

And, with that, she walks away once again.

Alistair wants to follow, wants to tell her to wait, wants to run after her and beg for her forgiveness. But, once again, he does nothing.

A/N: So, one day I saw a comment in a video of Alistair breaking up with a non-human noble Warden after becoming King that said "Wouldn't be funny if the warden was actually pregnant at the moment" and I took it as a challenge. I know the chances of two Grey Wardens conceiving are slim, but, you know, there's always magic (headcanons, I mean headcanons). Diverting from the possibilities the game offers and making up impossible ones is part of the fun after all!

So, yes, in this Alistair became King because Eamon manipulated him to do it. And married Anora because Eamon said it was the only way to avoid civil war, since he supported Alistair and Oriana supported Anora. I hate Eamon and it shows. Meanwhile, and unknown to any of them, even herself, Oriana became pregnant before the Landsmeet. So yes, in this headcanon of mine, Kieran is the Warden's child (Flemeth was five steps ahead any of them and performed the ritual on Oriana just in case), she survived the Archdemon thanks to him. Kieran is an Old God Baby and Morrigan is "cool auntie Morrigan" in this headcanon. Alistair and Oriana do end up together eventually, I swear. They just need to reach Inquisition for that.

Fun fact: this was the first Alistair x Oriana I wrote.

Fun fact 2: Yesterday was my first day on invisible orthodontic treatment and the pain is killing me. Send strength 😭.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed it!

assassin’s creed valhalla starters

words within ‘()’ are additional, optional choices! more maybe to be added at a later date. some n/sfw present. 

❝ you should see the other man. he got the worst of it. ❞   ❝ and who better to lead us to glory than me? ❞ ❝ i am most at home helping others. ❞       ❝ i’ve waited long enough for you, and you for me. ❞   ❝ thank you for not saying anything about my past. ❞       ❝ know that however far away, you’re always in my thoughts. ❞   ❝ when you see your god, tell them i sent you. ❞   ❝ what you make up in muscles, you’re lacking in spine. ❞   ❝ i almost envy you, to see the world through such a muddy glass and live with such petty concerns. ❞   ❝ i smell the stink of a dozen kingdoms in your beard. ❞   ❝ this feud is not yours, yet you fight it all the same. i find that strange. ❞   ❝ by the look on your face, you have lost your will to live. ❞   ❝ my arms are numb from battle. does it need any dressing?    do you think it is a serious wound? ❞   ❝ oh dear. this is not how i foresaw things. not at all! ❞   ❝ should we take this to your chamber? ❞   ❝ i want this. i want you. ❞   ❝ turn around, walk away, and you keep your insides inside. ❞   ❝ stay back! back! i will fight you! ❞   ❝ you look like reddened shit. what happened? ❞   ❝ i have always wanted to experience the world as you do. ❞   ❝ you come like a valkyrie out of a fog. but i have no dead to give you. ❞   ❝ all right, stay close and do as i do. ❞   ❝ home. or...it was home, once. now it is nothing but bone. ❞   ❝ i’ll have no qualms wiping clean your grin. ❞   ❝ just take care. such hatred can make you careless. ❞   ❝ away from your table for a day and you are already lusting for blood. ❞   ❝ if i did not know any better, i would say you are teasing me. ❞   ❝ the dream of new lands is a powerful lure. ❞   ❝ i love climbing up here. makes me feel as high as a raven. ❞   ❝ if i don’t find your horse, i will steal you a new one. ❞   ❝ i feel somewhat trapped. in this room, in this settlement, in this life. ❞   ❝ you are lost in a sea-storm of your own making. ❞   ❝ the poet in you sings once again. ❞   ❝ tonight, we will eat and drink like gods and wake in a kingdom made new. ❞   ❝ i wish i understood you better. for those i do not understand, i do not trust. (and i cannot stomach a lack of trust.) ❞ ❝ i’ve been called worse. ❞   ❝ you have nothing to fear from me. i bear you no ill will. ❞   ❝ you are a shadow of your father. weak and witless. ❞   ❝ what is this? is this...are we in hell? ❞   ❝ keep company with kings and you will soon have a crown of your own. ❞   ❝ a toothless cub may grow to be a dangerous wolf. ❞   ❝ you are far too young to speak so wise. ❞   ❝ i need clear, sound judgement. i need you. ❞   ❝ kind and courageous people live the best lives, but it can be a difficult path to keep. ❞ ❝ i want to say...i love you. and i have for some time. ❞ ❝ you smell that? the stink of jealousy. (of our budding friendship, i think). ❞   ❝ ah, while i have you, i’m reminded...i have this for you. ❞   ❝ your lies are just like you. big and bold. ❞   ❝ don’t excuse yourself. you enjoy this too much. ❞   ❝ you've come back. why are you wasting your time with me? ❞   ❝ care to sing a song? helps me pass the time. ❞   ❝ that is twice you have earned my admiration. ❞   ❝ you have only the setting sun to tell you when to stop. ❞   ❝ i want to know what you know. name your price. ❞   ❝ people like you deserve something worse than death. ❞   ❝ they called me a lout, a disgrace. they were right. ❞   ❝ i will have to get used to watching the sights of war from afar now. ❞   ❝ there’s no other way. fight or hide. it’s up to you. ❞   ❝ do not think me a coward. i am not afraid of war. ❞   ❝ friendships end. often at the point of a spear. ❞ ❝ i will make you beg as your father begged. ❞   ❝ (until that time,) it would be best to keep all discussions about...    about us to yourself. ❞ ❝ without you i would have lost my way a thousand times. ❞   ❝ you have no other friends. so tread lightly here. ❞   ❝ be it a blessing or a curse, family is always first. ❞   ❝ let’s not walk too far with that idea. i need you right where you are. ❞   ❝ you bested me. yet, i’m the one left standing. ❞   ❝ it’s a pleasure to meet you at least. ❞   ❝ you and your people here have done more for me than i could ever repay. ❞   ❝ you have my highest respect, regard, and trust. ❞   ❝ you’re not shy, are you? ❞   ❝ if we do this, you’ll earn the right to call me friend ten-thousand fold. ❞   ❝ does this have the stench of betrayal to you? ❞ ❝ today has meant so much. we rode, we fought, we drank, we laughed. (you showed me your world.) ❞       ❝ your end was written the moment you came for me. ❞   ❝ i am a sellsword. i ask what i please, and i take what i’m owed. ❞ ❝ you move and i will take your eyes. you hear me? ❞   ❝ i will leap first. on my word, you must follow. ❞   ❝ many times i wished to tell you. wished to say what was in my heart and what i desired. (but duty kept me from it.) ❞   ❝ these wounds will heal quickly. you’re lucky. ❞   ❝ anything to help you feel at home. ❞   ❝ our friendship is the best thing to come from this mess. ❞   ❝ you will be remembered for this, for years to come. ❞   ❝ i thought i had lost you. for good this time. ❞   ❝ you have shown me a great kindness. it is only fitting that i do the same. ❞   ❝ the mess you’re in...you don’t know the half of it. ❞   ❝ you have drawn a dark conclusion about me, haven’t you? (that is all well and good. i’ve drawn some about you as well.) ❞   ❝ you seem...strangely familiar. ❞   ❝ here i am, an upright man who never once learned how to bend the knee. and yet...i shall try. ❞ ❝ that’s a bread knife. do you mean to butter me? ❞   ❝ is that not something you worry over? ❞   ❝ a blind pursuit of vengeance has made you predictable. ❞   ❝ no matter where you are, or how far you travel, i will hunt you down. ❞   ❝ i came for you, looking for a friend and ally. ❞   ❝ people change.    it may be that you change with them, or you go your separate ways. ❞   ❝ i wish you whatever peace you may find in this new life you’ve found. ❞   ❝ i want your word: you will follow my orders. ❞   ❝ the day is new, and the air is bracing. are you ready for the fight ahead? ❞   ❝ er...good to meet you as well? ❞   ❝ what riches are worth so much misery, and the deaths of honorable men and women? ❞   ❝ my destiny is mine to weave. ❞   ❝ my road forward has been a muddy one. slick with blood and tears. (but we can reach its end together.) ❞   ❝ it is a wise leader who considers the needs of others. ❞   ❝ i think my mouth has gotten me in enough trouble today. ❞   ❝ at the end of all things, you will find yourself with nothing but your regrets. ❞   ❝ you saw fit to keep me guessing through your fits of madness. ❞   ❝ by all the gods, what was that? ❞   ❝ i was...restless. a quiet walk alone clears the head. ❞   ❝ when winter is past, summer will come and wind you in a flowered skirt, for you are beauty and shall not wither. ❞   ❝ ...unless you had a more interesting day planned for us? ❞   ❝ i do hope you see it now, for all you have done for me. ❞   ❝ your passion, your strength. i have never met such a burning soul. ❞   ❝ i have no guilt nor regret for what we have done, but we should be careful. ❞   ❝ i see before me a person full of passion, vigor, and a love for their people. ❞   ❝ if i wanted to hear you talk shit, i’d cut out your tongue and shove it up your ass. ❞   ❝ you! you look stronger than most of the others. ❞   ❝ your hatred for me burns bright. i could warm my balls on it. ❞   ❝ you’re quite like your arms: incredibly thick. ❞   ❝ i fought as i do, as hard as i do, to survive. (for i know what awaits us in the end. only darkness.) ❞   ❝ a shameful trick. you are your father’s child. ❞   ❝ you destroyed my life. i will take yours. ❞   ❝ you snore a little, like a wounded bear. ❞   ❝ that’s when i knew i would live and die for you. ❞   ❝ i’m going to pretend your last words were taken by the wind. ❞   ❝ i might still kill you yet, if your prattling doesn’t cease. ❞   ❝ you are weak like your father was weak. (you dance better than you fight.) ❞   ❝ have you ever seen muscles as massive as mine? ❞   ❝ i’m honored by your faith in me. and your confidence. ❞   ❝ after my missteps, i worry what you must think of me. ❞   ❝ with so much blood in the water and death in the air, i’d like to know your name and purpose. ❞ ❝ i have a good feeling about this place. ❞   ❝ you helped me reclaim what i had lost in myself. ❞       ❝ you speak of honor. where’s yours? ❞       ❝ you will throw away all reason to defend what you sworn to. ❞       ❝ you really are like a hero out of folk tales. ❞       ❝ how much would you sacrifice to be freed of fate’s shackles? (would you give your tongue, your hand, your sight?) ❞   ❝ there’s no power strong enough to do what you say. ❞       ❝ please, you must fight for me.    who knows what vile people might come to harm me? ❞   ❝ i have no need to count my kills. they number too many. ❞   ❝ i appreciate you for all of your qualities. ❞ ❝ not even the gods can change fate. ❞       ❝ i think it is time i take my leave. ❞ ❝ you really thought my life was in danger? (and you risked your own life...) ❞ ❝ the path ahead is bright, with glory at its end. ❞ ❝ it is easy to lose one's way on the road to glory. do not let false victories blind you to what is true. ❞ ❝ the act of leaving so beloved a home, there is a sadness to it. ❞       ❝ so there’s nowhere...you call home? ❞   ❝ all things end. ruins are not a warning, they are a testament. ❞   ❝ be nice to sleep in a real bed when this is over. ❞   ❝ in my sleep i dream. and in my dreams i see an end to the doom that will grip the earth once again. ❞   ❝ even when we win, we lose. ❞   ❝ i am as good with my lips, as i am with my tongue. ❞   ❝ is this your idea of a pleasant ride through the country? ❞   ❝ no whispering god brought me here. i brought myself. ❞   ❝ i would like very much to pass some time with you. ❞   ❝ ...and that’s how i got that scar. ❞   ❝ do i now haunt your dreams? ❞   ❝ it was never in their character to lead, it was always within yours. ❞   ❝ so easily wounded by words. imagine the ruin my axe would inflict on your flaccid ego. ❞   ❝ i have felt this way for some time now. i care for you. ❞   ❝ i have not felt safe since then. not really. ❞   ❝ how long have you been chasing me? seventeen winters? eighteen? ❞   ❝ you are not always to be trusted. your passions overcome you. ❞   ❝ i like you. you may help me here or step on me...and by the look of you i’d welcome either. ❞   ❝ it is good to have you in this fight. ❞   ❝ you need only know my impressive scale and flawless build. ❞   ❝ i am better than any man here. ❞   ❝ i can tell by looking at you, you are not a great warrior. (you know it too, there is no reason to deny this.) ❞   ❝ i am looking for honor, and have become lost as a result. ❞   ❝ many apologies. you are no child, simply a frail and fully-grown fool. ❞   ❝ i was stupid, selfish, reckless, blind, boneheaded, and i smell like blood and shit. ❞ ❝ anything to say for the mess you led us to? ❞   ❝ how was your...first kill? ❞   ❝ you squirm like that and my axe will miss your neck! unpleasant for both of us. ❞   ❝ i know you would defy me to the death, fighting for a glorious end.     that i will not allow. ❞   ❝ most men choose to be loud or stupid. impressive, that you managed both. ❞   ❝ you are a great warrior. conquerer of this land and that of your birth. ❞   ❝ you’re chasing shadows like a madman howling at the moon! ❞   ❝ quite a hit you took. how many were lost? ❞   ❝ well fought! even if your wits were somewhat rattled. ❞   ❝ we suffered no losses in this fight, and the men who humiliated us are dead. what is there to say? ❞   ❝ i would like to be close to you. ❞   ❝ if you are a warrior with honor running like sunlight in your veins, then you may help me fulfill my destiny. ❞ ❝ you are a long way from any warm hearth, warrior. Is this where you call home? ❞ ❝ am i to go the rest of my days without love or attention? i think not. ❞   ❝ the gods favor you. they always have. ❞   ❝ the others, they are like clubs. blunt and ungainly, you are nimble, like a knife. ❞   ❝ people with eyes that gleam like yours are always up to something more. ❞   ❝ only a fool stays awake all night worrying. you are tired when you get up, and the problem is still not solved. ❞   ❝ i liked you from the first. i saw something in you that captivated me. (as if a forgotten memory of an old friendship had suddenly resurfaced.) ❞   ❝ you've done nothing but give me your blind word! ❞   ❝ did you bring me any treasure? ❞ ❝ the woodsmoke from your firepit does sting the eyes. but the warmth is welcome. ❞ ❝ it is not something i can speak on. or wish to. ❞ ❝ i'm with you. only say the word. ❞ ❝ until we cut off this serpent's head, it will poison us, day by day, drop by drop. ❞ ❝ get some rest and return here at first light. ❞ ❝ i missed having you at my side. how i wished i could have taken you along on my travels. ❞ ❝ i do not like this, but i will not stop you. ❞ ❝ i have waited too many years for this day. when ___ stands before us, give me the final blow. ❞ ❝ why do you carry such a useless burden? let it go. ❞ ❝ i have waited years for this, but i will not risk losing it through rashness. ❞ ❝ i cannot fathom your game. you are either a young fool...or deceptively wise. ❞ ❝ your confidence blinds you to so much in plain sight. ❞   ❝ it’s good to be here, with you and your people. (i feel my life has found a new road.) ❞   ❝ there has always been war, even among the gods. ❞       ❝ my honor has been stained. until it's wiped clean, i want nothing else. ❞ ❝ i lack the patience for pole fishing. i would have better luck with my bow. ❞   ❝ if we tell all our stories, we’ll be here for a week. ❞ ❝ can you teach me the art of archery? ❞   ❝ bury the past. build the future. ❞       ❝ i missed you. your clear head and your courage. (we have not had enough of both in recent months.)   ❞   ❝ i have a good feeling this war is near its end. ❞ ❝ explain in plain words why you have willfully disobeyed my commands. (do you mock me?) ❞   ❝ the gods favor you. they always have. ❞   ❝ my love for you rises tall and strong, like the tree of life. ❞   ❝ the prize is some of my time. (a walk in nature, maybe more if that is where our conversation takes us.) ❞ ❝ together, we are unstoppable. ❞ ❝ it is natural to fear change. to resist it. (but all things change, and all things end.) ❞ ❝ you said nothing of this to me, not a word. ❞ ❝ so long as men and women fight to secure honor and freedom, their allegiance hardly matters to me. ❞ ❝ i care for you. i do not know how to say it any other way. ❞   ❝ love can burn brighter near death. ❞ ❝ i knew this would be difficult, but sometimes the weight bears down heavily. ❞ ❝ you are young and still foolish, so i will spare you your life. (but cross me again or harm anyone i cherish, and you will join your friends in hell.)   ❞ ❝ if you are as brave as you appear, you will come. ❞ ❝ this is not a natural quiet. it's as if a curse has befallen this place. ❞ ❝ there was a curse here long before i came along. ❞ ❝ we’ll forge a warrior from your softness, hammered on the anvil of war. ❞ ❝ you are different than the kind my flights of fancy attract. burdened, decorated and…delicate. ❞ ❝ i do not know what else to say. m-my memories are faint, hazy. ❞ ❝ how are you doing? you survived a serious blow. ❞   ❝ we’ll weave our sagas together, thread upon thread. ❞ ❝ i try to use my knowledge to help others. i am only a threat to those who fear the unknown. ❞   ❝ slap some moss on that gash and wrap it well. ❞   ❝ a knife to the back is a wound that never heals. ❞       ❝ with me you have wisdom! glory! power! what more do you need? ❞       ❝ if your hell is real, i’m glad you’ll get to see it. ❞   ❝ to fight beside such legends is an honor. (i've only heard tales of your conquests. now i get to live them.) ❞   ❝ i have tried to live well. it is enough that the gods know that. ❞ ❝ a cloud hangs over you. is something wrong? ❞   ❝ you have plunged my city into chaos. ❞   ❝ my sword is gore-greedy. i am ready to fight. ❞   ❝ accept your fate and die a coward, here before your people... and i will spare the rest. ❞   ❝ you would take the rescue for yourself, so the victory song is written about you? ❞   ❝ kneel, and i will spare your life. ❞   ❝ it has been some time. what brings you so far to see me? ❞

A distant memory - Loki

Loki Masterlist - Full Masterlist

Summary: Thor finds a letter Loki wrote to a woman called Y/n. He does not know this woman but the language used in the letter is loving and sweet, so Thor decides to ask about her. What he doesn’t know is that this woman has passed.

Pairing: Loki x Fem!Reader

Word count: 2110

My dearest Y/n,

Not a day passes without my mind, body, and soul yearning for your touch and pleasant conversation. Just yesterday I slept on your side of the bed in hopes of smelling traces of your perfume on the pillows. It did not help. Your books still hold your bookmarks on the places where you stopped. I must say, I admire your will to read every book that belongs to you but worry that you might never finish one. Just today, I found five different books that have your bookmarks. Yesterday, I found two. I have put them aside for you to make it easier to finish them. A fair maiden asked me for a dance last week at one of my father’s feasts but I had to refuse. No maiden could ever be as fair as you, even if you do step on my toes while we dance. It gives us more reason to keep practicing. My love for you grows every day and so does my longing. I fear you might be away for longer than I can take and I wonder if you would mind if I came over to see you for a day or two. Just the two of us.

Love,

Loki

‘Brother, who is this letter for?’ ‘What letter?’ Thor holds a letter that looks old and withered. It takes less than a second for Loki to realize what it is. He suddenly looks enraged. ‘Put it down,’ he snaps with venom laced in through his words. The sudden change in demeanor surprises and scares his brother. As careful as he can be, he puts the letter back on Loki’s desk. Loki rushes over and picks up the letter with the utmost care, gently putting it back in a drawer that he locks right away. ‘Who is Y/n?’ Loki sighs and leans against his desk. He looks tired when Thor looks at him again. It’s like a pain has been buried deep within him and has been eating at him for ages. ‘A hundred years or so ago, I went to Midgard to do some business for father. He send me to visit a pagan family that worshiped us to bless them. On the next farm over lived a young woman and when I went to the pagan family, they kept insulting her. I felt I could not justify giving our blessing if this maiden wasn’t the terrible person they said she was,’ Loki explains, ‘so I went over to her house to see for myself.’

Confidently, Loki strides over to the maiden’s house. Her garden is filled with flowers and herbs. From what Loki can tell, there are animals behind the house. This woman is sustaining herself but why? Why would a young maiden live so far removed from the fuss of the city? Especially since the family says she’s not married. Loki knocks on her door and hears fuss inside. It sounds like a dog barking at the door and a big one at that. He watches as a small latch in the door opens and a woman looks outside. He can only see her eyes but the eyes are the gates to the soul and her eyes are beautiful. They sparkle like the gems his mother wears, the reflection of water, or dewdrops on roses. ‘What is your business?’ ‘Forgive me for barging in miss. I have traveled long and far and need a place to rest my head. Would you allow me to sleep in your haystack or shed? Anywhere that’s dry.’ He hears the door unlock and out runs a big, black dog. He looks like he crawled from the debts of hell but his demeanor is friendly when his owner shows kindness. Loki doubts he acts the same if she is in trouble. ‘You make me sound cruel. Please come inside. I’ve got food to spare,’ she tells him with a friendly smile. Her door is wide open but Loki hesitates to step inside. He takes a good look at the maiden. As beautiful as she is, how is she capable of being this friendly. He can not imagine she has not been taken advantage of at least once. ‘You do not know me. Are you certain you want to show me kindness?’ ‘Why would I not? I have Bella to protect me if I need it and if I am frank, you look withered and weak. I doubt you’d be able to lay your hands on me,’ she tells him, ‘come inside. There’s a storm coming.’ Loki steps inside and follows her into the house. She offers him a chair at the table and gets him a plate as well as a drink. If this is a wicked woman, what is the family next door like? They show no kindness. Bella, the big dog, lays itself down under the table by her feet. She seems at ease as the maiden pets her a few times over the head. ‘So tell me, traveler, where are you going?’ ‘You don’t want to know where I’m from?’ ‘I doubt you’d want to talk about it if you’ve been traveling for long,’ she says, offering him a gentle smile, ‘besides, where you’re going tells more about you than where you’ve been.’ ‘I like your ideology miss. May I ask your name before I tell you?’ ‘Will you tell me yours if I tell you mine?’ ‘I fear you may want me out if I tell you.’ She nods, not pushing it any further. Loki feels like she wouldn’t mind who he is as she does not seem like a judgemental person but he wouldn’t want to run the risk. ‘My name is Y/n.’

Early in the morning, Loki awakes on the comfortable couch in Y/n’s living room with more blankets covering him than he went to sleep with. He is awoken by the wet, warm sensation of Bella licking his face. ‘Good morning Bella.’ He pets the dog a few times and gets up from his resting place. He hears Y/n call for Bella, who runs out excitedly. She must be outside, taking care of her animals. He dresses quickly and walks outside to see what she’s up to. He finds her sitting in the field, one of her cows laying beside her resting it’s head on her lap. She calls out commands to Bella to herd her sheep together and back to the pen. After the raging storm last night, she probably wants to see if they’re all alright. Loki walks towards her and sits down next to her in the grass. She nods to him, too busy to greet him. It’s only when all the sheep are in the pen that she fully acknowledges him. ‘Did you sleep well?’ ‘Yes, but the strangest thing happened,’ he tells her with a slight smirk on his lips, ‘I woke with three blankets while I’m sure I had only one when I went to sleep.’ ‘You looked cold.’ ‘You are a very kind host, miss Y/n.’ She smiles and looks out over the field. Bella comes running their way and sits down next to Loki. ‘She has taken a liking to you,’ Y/n notices, ‘she doesn’t like many people.’ ‘I feel honored.’ Loki pets the dog as he looks at Y/n. She looks beautiful in the morning light. Almost as beautiful as she had looked in the candlelight last night. ‘I feel like I have been untrue to you, miss,’ Loki tells her. ‘Why would that be? You are a traveler, are you not?’ ‘I am but not of the kind you know,’ he tells her, ‘you have been a wonderful host and I feel you deserve the truth.’ She chuckles. ‘You speak like this will change everything.’ ‘It might,’ he lets his head hang, ‘my name is Loki, god of mischief. I originally came here to bless the family next door for their devotion to us but they spoke ill of you. I felt I had to be certain you were a bad person if they were to deserve our blessing.’ ‘And what might your conclusion be, Loki god of Mischief?’ ‘They should deserve our blessing for their faithfulness and devotion to us but not for their treatment of others.’ She smiles. ‘I see.’ ‘May I ask why they talk of you this way?’ ‘I am an unmarried woman living alone on a farm. If I’m not being called a spinster, I’m being called a witch. It changes with the season. I’m used to it by now.’ She shrugs it off like it’s nothing but Loki feels a pit of rage in his stomach. A woman as lovely as her should be worshiped. He rips a piece of his golden armor off and puts it between his hands, forging a golden bracelet from it. ‘If you’ll allow me, I’d like to protect you,’ he says and shows her the simple, golden band. She looks hesitant and Loki understands. He’s the god of mischief. ‘Forgive my hesitation but I have been fending for myself for what feels like forever. It’s a kind gesture but I do not need it.’ He nods but gently takes her hand and puts it on. ‘Wear it,’ he tells her, ‘I will not protect you but I will watch over you. If you need company, just call out to me.’ She smiles again, putting her hand over his. ‘That is very kind, Loki.’

As summer progressed into fall, Y/n harvested her crops and made sure they’d survive winter. Her harvest wasn’t great but over time she noticed her supplies would not lessen, even if she took something. It would just reappear when she returned. Loki had visited her a few times during summer but when fall got colder, he stayed away. She feared she might’ve read his actions all wrong as she felt her feelings grow towards him. She thought he felt the same. When Winter thawed and the ground got softer, she called out to Loki in hopes to ask him about it. He did not appear and she feared he had forgotten about her. That is until- ‘Did you miss me?’ She couldn’t stop the smile appearing on her face if she tried. It’s like her feet work on their own as she runs over to him and throws her arms around him. ‘It’s so good to see you again. I feared you had forgotten me.’ ‘Forget the fairest maiden I have ever met? I could never,’ he tells her with a smile. His eyes linger on her lips for a second. ‘I stayed away in hopes your feeling would lessen.’ ‘My feelings? How did you know?’ ‘Darling, I am a god.’ ‘That’s fair, I should’ve known,’ she says with a grin, taking his hands, ‘but why?’ ‘I am not the best suitor and a maiden like you surely deserves better.’ ‘I do not want better.’ He frowns and looks down at her darling eyes. They still shine like gems and are filled with love. ‘My darling, I cannot marry you,’ he tells her, ‘I am prince, heir to the throne. They expect me to marry a goddess.’ ‘I understand.’ She smiles but he can tell she feels terrible. Her heart dropped and her smile faltered. It wasn’t hard to tell that his words hurt her. ‘I wish I could. I truly do,’ he promises her. ‘Then, don’t marry me but stay with me until you have to give yourself to another.’ ‘My darling, my mischief seems to have rubbed off on you,’ he speaks proudly, ‘yes. I will stay loyal to you until I must love another.’

‘But the villagers started a witch hunt and as a single, unmarried woman she was the first target,’ Loki tells his brother, ‘I could not protect her. Father would not let me.’ ‘You loved her, didn’t you?’ ‘I did but it’s in the past now. There’s no bringing her back.’ ‘I’m sorry.’ ‘Don’t be. I was young and stupid. I fell in love with someone I couldn’t have.’ Thor nods and takes a deep breath. ‘Believe me or don’t but you deserve love, Loki. I hope you’ll find a woman like her.’ Loki lets out a breathy laugh. ‘There is no woman like her.’ Thor leaves Loki’s room. It takes Loki a second to come back to reality. His hand reaches for the drawer and unlocks it once again, taking out the golden band she had worn. He deserves love, yes, but he has already met the person he was supposed to be with and no one else will ever compare.

Skald(Bakugou x Reader)

Part one:

Warnings: werewolf Bakugou, arranged marriage, Viking Bakugou, slightly out of character Bakugou, A/B/O verse, soulmate verse, love triangles

Summary: an alliance is made between the werewolves and humans. That’s all I can say for now

“She’s mad and she’s magic. There’s no lie in her fire.” -Charles Bukowski

“Every single part, is who you’re meant to be, and you were meant for me, and you’re everything I need.” -Skylar Grey

Y/N kicked Asger hard, sending her sparring partner to the ground. She smirked, righting herself and sheathing her sword once more.

“‘S good Your highness. You get better every day.” She basked in the praise. It felt good to be acknowledged as more than just the Chieftain's daughter. She was a warrior, just like her brothers and sisters. “Next time though,” he barreled into her, knocking her to the ground. “Plant your feet. Never let the enemy give you a surprise.” He reached down, helping her back up.

“Thank you Asger. It means a lot that you’re willing to spar with me.” Not many of their clan would. She was.....she was the Chieftain's daughter. If she got hurt heads would inevitably roll. He smiled, nudging her gently.

“Don’t tell your father I was rough with you and we’re good eh?” She laughed. He pulled out his drinking horn, taking a drink of mead before handing it to her. She drank from it gratefully.

“Y/N!” She rolled her eyes, hearing the loud bark of her father. Chief Hagen was a huge man. 6’7, dark hair braided down his back and shaved down the sides, a burly beard and rosy nose. He was intimidating beyond words and Asger quickly turned on his heel after snatching his gourd back.

“faðir(father)” she reached for him as he wrapped an arm around her and hugged her tightly to him, kissing the top of her head.

“barnið mitt(my child). Was Asger rough with you?” He asked. Y/N shook her head.

“No. He just told me to make sure my feet are planted and sparred me a bit.” Hagen nodded, eyes following Asger’s retreating form. He sighed, looking back at his daughter with a smile.

“Your mother and I have something we would like to discuss with you. Will you come home?” She nodded, following behind her father.

Their home was the largest in the village. A big stone building with wooden posts and a solid foundation. Oydis, Y/N’s mother, was outside, shelling green beans with her grandmother. Nana Rhigda smiled at her as they approached.

“Nana.” Y/N said, stopping to kiss the older woman on the cheek. Her skin was withered and cold beneath her lips.

“Sweet girl,” her mother said, garnering her attention away from her grandmother. “We need to speak with you privately”. Oydis held out her hand, gripping her daughter firmly as the three of them walked into their home.

Katsuki was shifting back into human form when his father came to collect him. The boy was pulling his trousers up his legs when he turned and saw him, Chieftain of their clan, walking towards him. Katsuki paused his movements, set on edge by the look on his father’s face.

“Good hunt Katsuki?” he asked. Katsuki nodded.

“Three deer. ‘Spose itll be good for winter once the women dry the meat out.” He had caught two of them. He loved the thrill of the chase, attacking something, wrestling it to the ground and tearing it apart with his fangs. The power was intoxicating.

“That’s good...care to go for a walk?” this surprised Katsuki further. He was never asked to go on walks with his father unless the conversation was serious and needed to be away from prying eyes. Katsuki followed him down the stony path towards the ocean, where the long boats sat on shore, gazing out at the horizon.

“Is everything alright?” he asked. His father nodded.

“The pack is doing very well. We’re thriving actually. But you know as well as I do that, that can change in a moment.” He snapped his fingers. “‘S why alliances are so important. Especially for Werepeople. We aren’t human. And humans can be fickle things. They let fear run their heart and they hate anything they don’t understand.” they stopped infront of one of the boats, His turned to look at him fully. “‘S why I’ve made an alliance with the Helvig Clan...you’re to marry their eldest daughter, Y/N, within a fortnight.” Katsuki’s heart nearly burst out of his chest, he looked at his father with wide eyes.

“W...What?”

“No….I...I’m not ready to marry.” Y/N said, shaking her head. Oydis put her arm around her daughter, rubbing her thumb against Y/N’s shoulder to try and calm her. Her father stood in front of her, face stern and unchanging.

“It’s already been decided.” Hagen said. “It….Its our life on the line sweetheart. Or family. Our tribe. This alliance is a powerful one. With Werepeople on our side we can be unstoppable.” Y/N shook her head, tears falling down her face.

“I don’t...I don’t want to marry someone I don’t love.” Hagen swallowed hard. He loved all of his children, and if there was another way, he would take it over his daughter’s tears in a heartbeat. “You will meet Katsuki tonight at dinner.”

Hana waited by their tree. It was a little after the time they had set to meet and she worried. Katsuki was never late. Not when it came to meeting, their secret moments when they could be alone together.

She was picking petals off a flower when she heard his familiar footfalls, turning to launch herself into his arms. He caught her and held her tightly, pressing soft kisses to the skin of her neck.

“Hello my love.” he whispered. His heart was breaking but he kept up his composure. It was Hana he wanted to marry, to be with. But those dreams had been shattered with one conversation.

“Katsu?” she whispered, pulling back from him, she kissed his cheeks, as he rested his forehead against hers. She smelled heavenly. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re going to hate me.” he mumbled. She shook her head.

“Never darling. What’s wrong?” He took her in, studied her dark hair, the bright blue eyes, soft pink lips. What other woman could compare to her. The girl he had loved for three years now.

“I’m to be married.” Hana felt as though someone had struck her hard across the face.

“W..What?”

“An alliance. I’m to be married within a fortnight.” Now Hana couldn’t stop her own tears. Katsuki held her close.

“I love you.” she cried into his shoulder. He nodded, swallowing thickly.

“I know.”

Y/N was nervous. She had never been interested in anyone and no one had ever fancied her before. But her mother and grandmother bathed her, washed her hair and placed perfume on her body. They put a crown of white lilies in her hair and a maroon satin dress on her. Oydis placed her hand on her daughter’s rosy cheek.

“You look beautiful my girl. Absolutely stunning.” Hagen stuck his head into the room, mouth parting slightly when he saw his eldest daughter. Gone was the tomboy he adored, now stood before him a young maiden, ready to be married off. It broke his heart a little.

“They,” he cleared his throat. “They’re here. Is the meal prepped?” Hagen couldn’t look at his daughter. He would cry and he couldn’t do that.

“Everything is ready son,” Rhagid said, waving him away. “Bring them in and we will bring her out.”

It was a smaller village than their own, but it looked quite cozy. Katsuki walked stiffly beside his father, as His father led him to the largest of the long houses. Before knocking He turned to Katsuki.

“I know this is hard for you son….but with time comes love. If you don’t love her now you will. It did for me and your mother.” Katsuki looked at him in shock.

“You...you and mom were-”

“Arranged? Yes. And I was a horrible husband in the beginning….” he ran a hand through his hair. “I loved another before her you see? And I kept going back to her. I didn’t….I refused to see how it hurt your mother. Until the day she threatened me with divorce. We managed to work things out, and I fell for her madly. But in the beginning I never gave her a chance.” he placed a hand on his son’s shoulder, looking him in the eyes. “All I’m asking is, give her a chance. You’re a good man. Be a better man than I was to your mumma.”

Hagen opened the door to his home widely and warmly, smiling at the fellow Chief and nodding in respect. He looked at the boy that would be marrying his daughter. He was about 5’7, blonde spikey hair, and brilliant red eyes. He nodded at Hagen who did the same in return before welcoming them in.

“Smile darling. It’s not the end of the world.” Oydis said softly to her daughter. Hagen shouted from the main area, bidding them to come. The women stood, the older two exiting first and then, the girl to be married.

Katsuki’s breath came out sharp and short when his eyes met his bride’s for the first time. She was a beauty, beyond anything he could have imagined her being But there was something else, something warm that he had never felt with Hana. This woman’s scent called to him, it was of honey and brown sugar, of lilies and roses. It was intoxicating.

“May I present my daughter? Y/N.” Hagen took his daughter’s hand, bringing her forward. Katsuki felt his father’s hand on his back, pushing him forward as well. Hagen reached out, holding his hand out for Katsuki, who took it blindly, he was still gazing at his wife to be. When Hagen placed their hands together, warmth shot up Katsuki’s arm, causing him to shiver. Y/N’s eyes went wide and her breath stuttered, she was most likely feeling the same thing he was. When she finally looked him in the eye he nodded, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Hello.”

Dinner was an event. The men were rowdy. Y/N’s brothers talking and laughing loudly with Katsuki and his father. Katsuki liked to boast and brag. That was the first thing she noticed about him. He bragged about his victories and hunts, pridefully puffing out his chest. Hagen seemed to get along well with Katsuki’s father and that eased Y/N’s fears a little. Her father would never give her to someone who could hurt her. He loved his girl too much and she was the only daughter.

Katsuki sat close to her but didn’t speak much to her, and when she tried to engage him, he cast her off, rolling his eyes. But with one stern look from his father he stopped, swallowing hard as he looked down at her.

“After dinner, we can go for a ride. I mean….if you’re not chicken shit?” Werewolves courted in a different way than humans, usually going for hunts and runs together to bond. But a werewolf had never been mated to a human before, so Katsuki was a little lost. But if she would trust him enough to go for a ride, maybe things could be good. If they could not be lovers, they could be allies.

Y/N smiled, nodding her head. “Will you shift?” she asked. Katsuki snorted, taking her hand in his.

“Of course. It’s the only way you’d be able to keep up.” she narrowed her eyes slightly, challenging him a bit.

“Don’t underestimate me.” he laughed again, placing an awkward kiss to her cheek. This surprises even him, he hadn’t meant to be so forward. But he didnt mind her. She was kind and could keep up with his banter. So she had that going for her.

“I would never.” the two of them stood, unnoticed by the dinning party, who were telling stories and passing around the drinking gourd. Katsuki led her outside and they walked the small path towards the woods. Once shrouded in darkness he let go of her hands, taking a few steps back away from her.

“Look away. Don’t want you to see.” Y/N turned, squeezing her eyes shut as she began to hear the snap and crack of bone, Katsuki’s grunts and growls becoming more and more animalistic as the snapping increased. And then there was silence.

Y/N felt breath, hot and heavy on the back of her neck and then something wet nudging her.

Katsuki was worried that seeing him in wolf form would frighten her. But she gazed at him curiously, studying him. He wished he could speak to her, but she would’t hear him. She wasn’t a wolf, there was no link there.

“You are….magnificent.” she whispered. He was huge, with shaggy yellow fur, his red eyes glowing as he watched her. She reached out, hesitating just as she was about to touch him, Katsuki bowed his head, grumbling lowly when she scratched behind his ears. She made him feel dizzy, lightheaded.

“Be a better man than me.” Katsuki decided he would. He would treat his little wife with respect at least. He would do the best he could.

The Crying Game

Poly!Oscar Issac x Pedro Pascal x Fem!Reader

Summary: On a cold winter night, when Oscar’s sleep comes and goes, him and Pedro find themselves thinking differently when you cry.

WC: 2.9k

Warnings: 18+!!!! SMUT SMUT SMUT!!!! ddlg themes, crying kink, kinda dub con if you rlly squint, vaginal penetration, bodily fluids, oral/m receiving, heavy dirty talk, poly relationship

Note: Meda and I where talking about me touching base on how my theory of pedro (and oscar) having a crying kink, so here it is! Hope you love it from the depths of my horny corner! AND THANK YOU @pinksdaydream FOR HELPING ME THIS MADE IT 1000 TIMES BETTER!!!! 😩💞

In the large king bed with the heater ridding the cold breeze of the outside snow, Oscar awoke to the glowing moon. His arm was draped over your waist while your legs tangled with Pedro’s, comfortable and calm in the meer hours of the night. Oscar had been tossing and turning most of the night yet didn’t realize he fell asleep when he woke up with his nose nuzzled into the crook of your neck.

He felt his lashes flutter against the whisps of stray hairs from your now loose bun that had held your hair before you fell in your own sleep. He kept quiet for some time, listening to yours and Pedro’s breathing in hopes it would lull him back to sleep, but his mind and body were wide awake. Nights like these usually consisted of him sneaking out of the warm bed and creeping down stairs to the at home gym in the garage, though something different stirred awake. A little voice chanting erotic words and thoughts as you shifted unknowingly into his hardened member.

With slow and gentle movements, Oscar rolled you completely to your belly and propped your hips up slightly as he crawled behind your sleeping form. You groaned softly, making Oscar grin lazily when your legs spread to brase yourself. Even in your sleep you know your daddy’s touch and the thought made Oscar’s chest swell with pride at his little princess getting ready for him in her sleep.

He brought the blanket down just a tad, letting it lay on the back of your knees and pulling your nightie up your back. Your body still breathed evenly, sleeping peacefully which brought Oscar to spit loudly on your winking lips, bending impossibly close to your pussy to do it once more. He licked his spit through your folds and gathered it at your clenching hole as you mewled brokenly in the fluffy pillows.

You tried to stretch as Oscar folded his pants down, lining his cock up quickly to your entrance before you awoke. The bed dipped with his knees, restling the placement of the blanket and waking Pedro up with a quick intake of air. It took him a moment to understand the situation, but soon aware of what Oscar was doing by the time his cock was seethed completely into your cunt. Pedro’s smile was small and pleasant, watching Oscar fuck you awake. His hand came to lay lazily ontop of your head and brushed the hairs covering your face as your brows furrowed in confusion.

Oscar was slow with his thrusts, but pushing deep within you, making your hips tilt upwards. He felt your walls constrict and relax in one flush movement, your cunt spooked at first but realizing who and what had entered, relaxing its velvet walls around Oscar’s thick cock.

You muttered something under your breath as your heavy eyes opened slowly, Pedro being the first person you see while your body jults and withers. You began to pant in pleasure when your mind caught up with the real world, Pedro’s warm palm pressing on your cheek as you moaned brokenly.

“Someone’s awake,” Pedro cooed, his voice thick with sleep, his eyes trailing to Oscar’s hands fisting your night dress.

“G’mornin’ baby girl,” Oscar grunted, his hips stilling to your ass only to pick up his pace.

You grunted lowly, pouting your lips as Oscar slid out then pushing deep in a slow thrust. His breath was hot and shallow on your overly warm skin, sending your senses haywire at the sudden pleasure.

“P-papa?” You mewled, nose scrunched as your palms came to rub your eyes though Oscar’s thrusts knocked your head closer to the bed, “Daddy!”

Pedro chuckled at your squeal as Oscar hummed in delight with a lazy smirk. You hiccuped with a cry, your arms pushing you up to see your lovers clearly but Oscar and Pedro both had the thought of keeping you down. Pedro’s hand holding your shoulder blades down while Oscar held your hips closer to his. You cried again, mumbling incoherent words as a plea.

“Up! Let me up!” You cried in the sheets, nuzzling your nose in them.

“Jus’ wait baby— Don’t this feel good?” Oscar grunted, thrusting his cock in and stilled to walk closer to you by his knees, making his presence known. The pressure made your eyes roll back with a short hitch of breath.

“S-so go-good daddy…” You panted as you looked at Pedro, your eyes gloomy and teary eyed.

Pedro’s gut dropped, and not the kind where he felt guilty or bad, it was a raw feeling that he’d do anything and everything to see you cry, whether it was for him or Oscar. Pedro released your shoulders and sat up quickly to grab Oscar’s attention.

“Look look look.” He whispered, pulling your hair away from your soft and drowsy face, “Look at that…”

You sniffled when Oscar peeked at your damp cheeks and heavy eyes, your pants deep and erratic as you blew them into the sheets. He groaned at the sight of you. Your hair messy and untamed with your cheeks pressed to the soft bed as your body slumped in relief when he ceased his thrusts. Oscar quickly pulled out and turned you around, your back thudding on the bed in a bounce as you squealed in surprise.

“God fucking damnit princess.” He said, perching your legs up to your chest as you looked down at his gleaming cock.

Pedro whistled lowly, drawing your attention to your Papa before Oscar plummeted back into you. This time he could see every inch of you perfectly, your pussy fluttering to be filled and the sheer fabric that covered your chest that did little to conceal anything. Pedro could see it too, itching to rip your nighty straight down your chest to fondle with them, pitching and pulling until you come on Oscar’s cock.

Before you could count to three, Daddy’s hands were wiping your tears with a teasing coo, while Papa stretched the fabric of your dress down your chest to make your breasts exposed to them. You gasped and whined at their pulling and pushing, feeling like a bone for two hungry dogs. You cried again while your Daddy’s cock relentlessly pounded into you with need as your Papa twisted and tugged on your peaked nipples.

The fingers, cock and dirty whispers were too much. It was a toe curling burn that crept up your spine and throughout your ligaments; a coil that was about to snap. You couldn’t help but to bend your back into a painful arch and beg loudly for your release.

“P-please!” You moaned, thrusting your hips up to meet Oscar as your body ached for anything. A shove, a touch, a smack. Anything would be perfect to your release. “Daddy please!”

You looked at Oscar as you pleaded, but before he could answer, you turned your head to Pedro, screaming his name without a care of how pathetic your voice sounded.

“What do you need sweetie?” Pedro asked, coming closer to pull your head in his lap while he sat up against the headboard, “Is daddy and papa not giving you everything you want?” Oscar chimed, his warm hand coming to rest on the base of your neck.

“N-no! I-I have to cum! Please let me cum Daddy!” You defended, tilting your head back and forth to beg to your lovers. “Papa!”

Oscar moaned as fresh tears fell down your puffy cheeks, his cock bouncing in the warm walls of your cunt as his bollocks tightened. He was ready to blow his release, but stopped his movements and pulled out, making you whine as you cried harder. He sat back on his heels with a groan, his hand running over your slickened folds and stretched cunt.

“What about Papa? Hmm baby? You gonna give him some love before you cum?” He cooed with a pout, his head tilting as you nodded your head fast.

It was a perfect way to prolong his release, and Pedro knew it too. An all knowing smirk graced Pedro’s lips as he bit his tongue. His cock was impossibly hard in his fleece pants, hanging heavy on his thick thighs, clenching every moment you moaned and mewled.

“You look so pretty on Papa’s cock princess. Go show me and Papa yeah?” Oscar’s words were hypnotic, dripping from his lips like honey as he persuaded you.

He gripped your chin gently, rubbing your rosey bottom lip with his thumb, entranced by the thought of you perfectly seated on Pedro’s cock. You moved your head quickly when Pedro’s hands came down to rub the rounds of your breasts, your cheek laying lazily on his bicep as you looked at his darkened eyes and crazed peppered hair swirled around his beautiful face.

“May I have your cock Papa?” You asked sweetly, jutting your lips as you rose your chest for him to grope you more.

“Ah, using your manners? Such a good little girl I see.” Pedro adored, your eyes watery and wide while your lips pouted, he couldn’t say no. He’d be a fool if he did.

He didn’t wait for you to respond, hooking his arms under yours and lifting you up to sit in his lap. His legs where spread out before your ass landed on his thighs. You wiggled back, cooing and mewling as your Papa fumbled to barely pull his pants down to forcefully place you on his cock. It was a different feeling than Oscar— uncut and thicker, fulfilling and smooth. Pedro’s manhood stretched you further and made you squeal and squirm, him jabbing and demanding at your cervix, unlike Daddy’s who sweetly kisses your endings.

“Show Papa what you can do, let Daddy see it.” Oscar grunted, laying on his elbows as he gripped his cock, letting you and Pedro watch him pleasure himself at the sight of you two.

Pedro was the first to move as you drooled over Oscar’s show, watching intently as his big hands covered his slippery cock. Your breath hitched with Pedro’s fast and deep thrusts, your hips working in speed to match your Papa’s momentum. This had to be one of the favored mornings, your cunt onto his cock while you watched Daddy fumble with his, it made you moan louder with your ass bouncing harder on Pedro. And the man loved every minute of it, watching your eyes gloss as you watched Oscar and your sweet juices coating yourself along with him. It made a lewd squelch, making Pedro pant his moans as he squeezed your waist to keep your bouncing hard and deep.

You were repeatedly being impaled upon Pedro’s cock, it tore you in two so deliciously. There was a burn from him stretching you but it added on to the pleasurable ache between your legs. You were starting to lose yourself in the pleasure, your hips starting to stutter. Whines starting leaving your mouth, you didn’t think you could handle it anymore. You were still reeling from Oscar, the way he pushed into your unguarded walls to right now with how tempting he looks. Your body was buzzing as Pedro started taking over.

“Can’t handle it, Peach?” Pedro mocked as he flipped you onto your back, your movements too slow for his liking. He slid back into you and started pounding hard and fast, making you yelp as you covered your mouth. You were scared of the sounds that would come out if you didn’t.

You used your other hand to press it against Pedro’s tummy, trying to get him to let up on his pace.

“Uh uh, baby. You can handle Papa, show me how much of a good girl you can be and take it.” Oscar said as Pedro pushed your hand away.

“No! It’s too big.” You whined, making both Oscar and Pedro laugh at you, though the laughter soon turned into guttural groans as more tears cascaded from your eyes. Both men didn’t think they would be able to last much longer.

From the side view of Oscar to the way Pedro pounded his cock, you could help but mewl and shake as you held your legs up to your chest. The tilt of your hips drove Pedro’s cock deeper as your fingernails created half moons on your soft skin. You clenched and pulsed around you Papa, your eyes becoming blurry with tears while your pretty little head fogged. You couldn’t hold your delayed release even if you wanted to, it came quick and hard, making your mouth drop open in a silent squeal. Your tongue jutted out slightly as your eyes crossed.

“Ooh yeah baby— Fuck! Su-ch a good girl!” Pedro gasped, smirking with an open mouth as he imprinted your fucked face in his memories.

Oscar released his hand from his own cock like it had burnt him, panting as his member flexed for more. The sight was beautiful; your curvy body bent deliciously, your face flushed as you looked at the beds canopy with your mouth wide. The veins in your neck protruding out, blood pumping quickly before you finally spoke out.

“Fuck!” You squealed brokenly, the tears finally falling down your sweet cheeks. “More more more!”

Your mumbled words were your lovers dream, a blissed demand that any man would oblige. Pedro groaned loudly, shifting his hips deeper into your milking walls as they enchanted him to stay put. Oscar watched with awe as he quickly moved to you, his knees quaking as he did. He placed his cock head close to your mouth and you didn’t think twice as you opened your mouth quickly to trap his head in your warm awaiting mouth.

“Is this what you want sweetheart? Huh?” Oscar asked, Daddy shuttered, his eyes fluttering closed as he smiled wide like a cat that got the cream, “Both of your pretty holes filled?”

“Look so pretty baby…” Pedro mumbled with a curt grunt, pulling and pushing slowly to keep himself from blowing his warm seed into your inviting canal.

You rose your neck, letting Daddy slide easily in your throat. Small mewls and moans were gurgled around him as your eyelids hooded over your blown out pupils, attempting to smile lazily around him. Oscar fucked your face, slow and agonizing at the first few thrusts, then became erratic and aggressive like he was claiming every inch of your mouth. The sight persuaded Pedro to move, captured by yours and Oscar’s grunts and muffled moans. The feeling of Pedro invading your warm walls and Oscar nudging the back of your throat had you close to a second orgasm.

Pedro could tell you were close by the way you were starting to close your thighs, a clear sign that you wanted more but didn’t know how to ask for it.

“Do you want another, peach? Is that what you’re asking for?” Pedro asked. He enunciated every word with a thrust, making you squeal.

“Ask nicely, you’re so good at using your manners peachy girl.” Oscar said, forcing himself deeper into your warm throat.

You loved hearing his grunts, sending your nerves closer and closer to another release, as did Pedro’s unrelenting pace. The pad of Pedro’s thumb found your swollen and puffed clit, the texture of his thumb made you jerk at the sudden contact. He started rubbing in a circular motion, the build up didn’t take long; stars bursting behind your eyes as your back arched off the bed. Oscar came with an erratic thrust of his hips just as Pedro did, filling your greedy holes with bliss.

You eagerly gulped down all that your Daddy had to offer with weak whimpers as your cunt filled to the brim with your Papa’s hot cum. You willingly and joyfully took every drop your lovers gave, filling you up sweetly and beautifully while you panted and moaned.

The moment Oscar released his grip from your tangled hair, you gasped loudly, your heart pounding in astonishment of the lewdness you succumbed to. You didn’t regret a minute of the rough and passionate fucking, you loved every single thing about and secretly hoped for more. But the flushed cheeks and heavy eyes of Oscar told you that the silver haired fox was done for the moment.

You panted with a soft smile as Oscar slumped back on his heels while Pedro’s soft hands caressed your soft tummy, pushing gently to watch his release seep out of your puffed folds. He groaned again, rough and loud, his cheeks puffing in a long exhale while his eyes locked on his cock leaving your body as well as his seed.

It was a dream come true before your friend the sun rose with its bright rays of life, warming the cold ground and awakening the winter birds. But little did the sun know, you danced with the full moon in the most luxurious way.

Taglist will be added in a reblog!!!

five times geralt saw jaskier naked on accident + one time it was entirely on purpose. ~6k. Read on AO3 here!

i.

“Get back here, you mangy knob!” echoes down the hallway, and Geralt pauses on the way to his room. 

It’s been a long night, and Geralt would like nothing better than to collapse into bed, but trouble has a habit of following Jaskier like flies to shit. He’s the whole reason Geralt even has a bed for the night, so Geralt sighs and follows the shouting. 

He wishes he could say he’s surprised when he rounds a corner and Jaskier runs head first into him, but honestly, it’s nothing short of expected. What does throw Geralt for a loop, though, is the fact that Jaskier is completely naked, expanses of smooth skin exposed as he sprawls back on the ground in a very undignified manner, clutching his nose. 

“Fuck, Geralt!” he cries, but it comes out garbled. “You broke my nose!”

The man who was chasing after Jaskier comes to a sudden halt, panting in front of them. “He slept with my wife!”

Geralt frowns. “Are you sure it was him?”

The man gapes and gestures at Jaskier’s nakedness. Geralt curses Jaskier for being so obvious; it makes his job much more complicated. 

“Maybe he can give you some tips on how to satisfy her so she doesn’t feel the need to look elsewhere next time,” Geralt suggests, one hand coming up to casually rest on the hilt of his dagger strapped to his belt. 

“It’s all about the tongue,” Jaskier pipes up in a nasally tone, and Geralt rolls his eyes. 

The man’s eyes dart from Geralt to Jaskier, and back to Geralt before a look of realization crosses his face and it drains of color. “You’re… the butcher of Blaviken?”

“That’s him! So you’d best get back to your chambers if you want to keep all your limbs!” Jaskier crows, but only half of it is intelligible through the hand he’s holding to his nose. 

The man looks like there’s something else he wants to say, but he bites his lip and retreats, after one last withering glance at Jaskier. 

Geralt turns to Jaskier, suddenly very aware of his lack of clothing. “Will you ever learn?” he asks in exasperation. “I’m not always going to be around to clean up your messes, you know.”

“I’m fairly certain you have a much longer life expectancy than me,” Jaskier lisps, looking up at Geralt with doe eyes. 

Geralt sighs and sticks out a hand to help Jaskier up. 

Jaskier takes it, his fingertips lingering on the soft flesh of Geralt’s forearm, and heaves himself up. His hand stays on Geralt’s arm, and Geralt drags him back to their room. 

“Sit,” he says gruffly, rustling around in his pack for a clean rag. 

He steps over to the wash basin and dips it in before walking back to over Jaskier. He wipes the blood away from Jaskier’s nose gently, but an observer wouldn’t think so from the way Jaskier winces and groans.  

Geralt sighs. “Serves you right.”

“That’s just cruel, Geralt.” Jaskier squirms on the bed, pulling a corner of the blanket over his lap. 

Geralt resolutely focuses on his face. He squints at Jaskier’s nose, which is just the slightest bit crooked. “This is going to hurt,” Geralt warns. “One, two.”

Jaskier yelps as Geralt sets his nose back into its proper place, finishing up dabbing the blood away before he packs Jaskier’s nose full of gauze. “There,” he says. “Good as new.”

There are tears welling in Jaskier’s eyes from the pain. “I don’t know if I’d go that far,” he says weakly. 

“Maybe you’ll be able to go more than a week without cuckolding another husband this time.”

Jaskier lets out an indignant snort. “Hey, sometimes I just sleep with the husbands themselves. Then I have to watch what I eat, though,” he blathers on, and Geralt is honestly impressed with the lengths of his chatter even when Geralt imagines it must be painful to speak. “Have sex with one wrong person, and all of a sudden everyone and their mother is trying to poison you.”

Geralt’s not sure how to respond. 

Jaskier sighs and turns over in the bed. “Good night, Geralt.”

“Try not to drown in your own blood.”

“Always nice to know you care.”

And then, almost too softly for Jaskier to hear, “Good night, Jask.”

ii.

Geralt jerks awake and sits up in his bed roll. The fire is crackling happily, a far cry from the smoldering logs Geralt would have expected. He looks around, and Jaskier is gone. Normally, this would worry him, but if Jaskier took the time to stoke their fire, that probably means he hasn’t been eaten. Most likely. 

The slight chance that something untoward has happened propels Geralt out of the warmth of his blankets. He tugs on his boots and follows the faint scent of Jaskier, a warm mix of wood smoke and contentedness, these days. 

His nose leads him to the river bank, and he hovers right on the edge of the tree line, scouting for any possible dangers. He doesn’t see any, but as he does his sweep, his gaze catches on Jaskier’s bare back and lingers there. There’s a smattering of freckles that Geralt can just barely make out, until they disappear when Jaskier dunks his hair under the water. 

Geralt knows that he should stop just standing here, should either reveal himself or just slink back to their camp and start packing things up, but he finds himself rooted in place as Jaskier rubs a rag over his shoulder blades. 

Geralt is half tempted to offer his help in reaching Jaskier’s back, but he knows how that would probably be received. 

Geralt is transfixed as Jaskier begins to sing, and he sinks down to sit with his back to a tree to listen. Jaskier is always wanting his opinion on his songs, so surely he’d be fine with this, right?

It's not fair, oh, it's not fair how much I love you

It's not fair, 'cause you make me ache, you bastard

And he'll say

Oh, how, oh, how unreasonable

How unreasonably in love I am with everything you do

I'll spend my days so close to you

'Cause if I'm stood here, then I'm stood here

And I'll stand—

Geralt’s jerked out of his trance of listening to Jaskier sing in his honeyed tones by a disturbance in the water, and Geralt focuses in on the ripples that are starting to froth before a drowner emerges, its scaly skin glistening in the morning light. Jaskier screams, and Geralt leaps from his hiding spot, unsheathing his sword. 

Jaskier turns to look at the new disturbance with wide eyes, minutely relaxing when he sees it’s Geralt. Geralt jumps into the water, landing on the drowner’s back. It jerks and bucks, deceptively strong as it tries to toss Geralt off. Geralt hooks his hands around its neck, his sword gripped precariously. 

The drowner gives one last shake, and Geralt goes flying, his sword falling with a splash. There’s a clawed, webbed hand on Geralt’s head, forcing him under the water. He thrashes, trying to get free, but to no avail. Geralt keeps his mouth tightly shut, and his lungs start to burn as he continues to fight. 

Bright spots start to dance at the edge of his vision, getting darker and fuzzier now, and Geralt knows he’s right on the verge of losing consciousness. He’s unable to stop his gasp for air, but only water finds his lungs. He’s resigned himself to this being the way it ends when suddenly the grip goes lax and he’s able to propel himself to the water’s surface, gasping for breath. 

“Geralt? Geralt?” comes a worried voice, floaty and distant sounding. “Geralt, are you okay?”

There’s a pounding on his back, and water dribbles from his lips. A litany of curses follow and sharp tugs on his arm that lead him back to the bank. 

Geralt coughs and splutters, more water escaping him as he finally registers Jaskier pacing around anxiously... completely naked. Geralt chokes, and Jaskier is there in an instant, a warm hand on his back, rubbing in soothing circles. 

“You’re okay,” he croons with a gentle pat. 

Geralt doesn’t feel okay. He feels like he about died and is seconds away from doing it again via spontaneous combustion at the sight of all Jaskier’s skin on display. Geralt picks a spot on the distance and fixes his gaze on it. 

“Good thing you were around,” Jaskier says finally, and Geralt burns in shame at the thought of why exactly he was there. 

He’s lucky Jaskier isn’t running away in repulsion, like he would be if he knew the truth. 

Jaskier asks him if he’s okay yet again, and Geralt grunts. 

“Oh, goody, you’re well enough for monosyllabic conversation. Back to normal, then.”

Geralt grunts again, and Jaskier laughs, a delightful trilling thing. 

“Oh, here you go,” Jaskier says, handing Geralt back his sword that’s covered in monster guts and ichor. 

Geralt’s eyes do not bug out as the realization hits him. “You… you?”

“Well, it was drowning you! I couldn’t just stand around, now could I?”

“I...suppose not,” Geralt mutters, but in actuality, he can count on one hand the number of times someone’s actually come to his aid while he was fighting a monster. The most he can wish for is someone who won’t recoil as they patch up his wounds later. 

“Are you sure you’re alright? You’re acting a bit,” Jaskier pauses, “distracted.”

“I’m fine,” he says gruffly. 

“Well, I guess it’s not every day you have a near death experience,” Jaskier muses, “Oh, wait.”

“Maybe if I didn’t have to save your sorry ass so often.” Geralt shoves at him and instantly flushes red as his hand touches Jaskier’s bare skin and he registers again that he’s naked. 

“Put on some clothes,” Geralt mumbles, averting his eyes. 

There’s a heavy silence as Geralt waits for Jaskier to say something in response, some sort of rib, but nothing comes, just the soft swish of fabric as he gets dressed. 

Geralt grits his teeth. 

iii.

Geralt trudges down the rocky path, Roach just behind him. The trail from Kaer Morhen is downright treacherous at the best of times and fatal at worst, so Geralt would rather walk than risk Roach making a wrong step and sending them both pitching off a cliff. 

Not that that would be entirely unwelcome, after the winter Geralt has just endured. Eskel and Lambert took great pride in elbowing Geralt and making him the butt of their every joke, saying in glee that they could smell the longing drifting off of him. 

“Is Geralt in loooove?” Lambert had sang, until Geralt shoved him off his chair to shut him up. 

Lambert tumbled to the floor with a clatter of his armor, but he still wore his unbearably smug expression. Eskel had looked at him with soft eyes. “You could have brought them here, you know. I want to know whoever can make you happy.”

“Yeah, we all know how impossible that is for Mr. Melancholy,” Lambert said. 

Geralt shakes his head and puts his focus back on putting one foot in front of the other. The other witchers had endlessly pestered him about his plans for the spring, but Geralt hadn’t wanted to tell them. He likes Jaskier being just for him, and he had waited impatiently for the snow to melt in the pass. He was the first to set out, and he valiantly tried to ignore Lambert’s snickers as he left. 

Geralt is headed to Oxenfurt. He and Jaskier hadn’t made set plans to meet up, because it normally doesn’t take too long for them to accidentally on purpose run into each other, but this year, Geralt doesn’t want to wait. The winter had stretched out into much longer than normal, with biting cold and piles of snow, so Geralt is more than ready to be warm again. 

When the path finally stops twisting and turning, Geralt mounts Roach and picks up their pace a bit. It’s certainly only because he’s eager to sleep in a bed, never mind that he’s been sleeping in one all winter. 

Geralt pulls his hood up against the early spring chill and soldiers on. 

-

When Geralt finally arrives, several days and sleepless nights later, it’s just before dawn. Jaskier has always had a proclivity towards nocturnal behavior, with only Geralt’s need to be up and moving at first light tempering it, so Geralt doesn’t think Jaskier will mind the intrusion. 

Geralt ties Roach to a hitching post, promising to come back and find her a stable once the sun breaks over the horizon, and then he wanders until streets start to look familiar, and Jaskier’s cozy house comes into view. 

Geralt steps up to the door and knocks, and he definitely does not try to tame his hair into some semblance of kempt or get an anxious churning in his stomach at the prospect of seeing Jaskier again. There’s no answer to his knock, so he tries again, but Jaskier still doesn’t materialize. Geralt tries the knob, and to his alarm, it’s unlocked. 

His first thought is one of panic—what if something’s wrong? Jaskier wouldn’t just leave his door unlocked; someone could walk right in and steal his lute. Geralt opens the door quietly and creeps through the dark house. There are no immediate signs that there’s anything amiss. There are only three rooms, and Geralt eases the bedroom door open to peek inside. He’s immediately arrested by Jaskier sprawled out naked on his bed. 

Geralt takes a hurried step back, but not before his eyes dart all over Jaskier’s body. He’s just taking stock of any new injuries Jaskier might have incurred while Geralt wasn’t around to protect him from the wrath of cuckolded husbands, that’s all. Jaskier looks paler and more gaunt than he was when Geralt left him, but Geralt supposes that’s just a side effect of winter. 

Geralt retreats slowly, locking the door behind him and resolving to come back when the sun is high in the sky. 

Geralt stumbles onto the street, the early morning light making everything washed out as he scuffs his boots along the ground. He meanders back the way he came, deciding he’ll stable Roach and then see about something for breakfast. He hadn’t felt hungry in his haste to get to Jaskier, but now that his enthusiasm has been tempered, he’s starving. He tries to remember the last time he stopped to eat something more substantial than whatever he could pull out of his pack. Two, three, days ago, maybe? 

Roach comes into view, pawing her hoof against the dirt impatiently. Geratlt huffs a laugh as he walks closer, untying her reins from the hitch and clicking his tongue as he leads her in a direction that he’s getting a big whiff of horse from. 

Geralt leaves Roach at the stables, with his usual stern frown at the stable boy and a chastisement to Roach to be good as she nips at his shirt. 

Roach taken care of, he sets off to look for something to eat, wondering if it’s too soon for Jaskier to be up yet. His eyes flicker shut for a moment as he thinks of the Jaskier’s robe, and how if he goes right now and knocks on his door, he might answer wearing that and nothing else. 

Although, if he does that, even Jaskier might be able to smell the lust rolling off of him. 

Geralt sighs and continues his trudge, until he stops in his tracks and redirects his path. He looks up at the sun’s position in the sky. It’s been long enough. Surely Jaskier is wearing actual clothes by now?

Geralt walks back to Jaskier’s home, the path turning from dirt to cobblestone as he gets closer. There’s a patch of grass peeking between the stones with three orange wildflowers growing in it. Geralt stoops down and picks them without thinking too much about it. 

Geralt carries the flowers loosely in one hand down at his side. When he reaches the steps leading up to Jaskier’s door, he pauses to steel himself, to try to prepare himself for if Jaskier’s whole chest is on display in his robe, but he’s interrupted by an obnoxious throat clearing. 

Geralt whirls around to glare at the person, but he’s arrested by the sight of a man scowling right back at him. “Hope you’re not planning to bother some nice girl, Witcher. Like anyone would ever want you.”

Geralt glances down at the flowers in his hand, and then back to the man, mouth flapping uselessly. He has a point. 

“She’s probably just too scared to tell you to fuck off,” the man sneers, and Geralt’s fingers itch to pull his dagger from his belt, but he restrains himself. 

He surreptitiously looks around for a place to drop the flowers. The man is right; this is a terrible idea. What is he hoping to accomplish with this? Just to make Jaskier smile? He’s an idiot. 

A door slams open, and then, “Well, I have no such qualms. Fuck off.”

Geralt turns around to see Jaskier—and thank fuck he’s wearing clothes this time, but he’s wearing that ridiculous lavender robe, with his leg jutting out right below where it’s knotted together. Geralt desperately averts his eyes, turning back around to frown at the man, but he’s disappeared. 

He looks at Jaskier, then, drinking him in after a winter apart. Jaskier makes a pleased hum in the back of his throat. “For me?” he asks, holding out his hands for the flowers. 

Geralt hands them over without comment, but he can’t hide the smallest of smiles as he follows Jaskier into the house, Jaskier chattering away about everything Geralt missed. 

And, gods, did he miss a lot. 

iv.

When Geralt bolts awake this time, Jaskier is gone again. Geralt would be concerned that just anyone could sneak up on him while he’s sleeping, but he knows his body has started to become in tune with the sound of Jaskier and it no longer deems it necessary to rip him from his sleep for just Jaskier padding around. 

Still, Geralt wipes the sleep from his eyes and slowly gets up to start disassembling their camp. Jaskier will be back soon, and then they can be on their way. Geralt casts his eyes to the horizon, noting the first rays of morning peeking over it. 

 Geralt ambles over to where he had tethered Roach to a tree and scratches his fingertips over her neck. She headbutts his other hand, impatiently waiting for her breakfast. Geralt huffs a laugh. 

Geralt has everything packed up and he’s been leaning against a tree impatiently for three minutes when he starts to get worried. Who knows what could be in these woods? There could be any number of things looking to make a meal out of Jaskier. 

Geralt paces in a circle around their doused fire. On one hand, Jaskier could be doing something like taking a shit somewhere, but on the other hand, he might be hurt. 

Geralt freezes when he hears a faint strangled cry, and his feet are moving even though his mind has barely registered the sound. Geralt crashes through the underbrush, uncaring about how much noise he makes or the thorns that tear against his skin, until he skids to a stop in front of Jaskier. In front of Jaskier, who locks eyes with him while his cock is in his hand and comes with an aborted gasp. 

Heat burns up Geralt’s face. “Sorry, I—” he cuts himself off and flees back the way he came. 

He berates himself as he walks back to their camp. They haven’t been in a town in over three weeks, why was that not what he expected? In all honesty, that’s why he hadn’t gone after Jaskier immediately, but after he heard him shout all of the thoughts of restraint flew out of his brain. The only thing he could focus on was Jaskier needing help. 

Geralt tries not to dwell on the thought of how Jaskier’s cock had looked, flushed and jutting out proudly. Geralt pulls Roach’s brush out of the saddle bag and works her over carefully, making sure every hair is going the same way and helping her shed her thick winter coat. 

By the time Jaskier stumbles back, Geralt had thought he had managed to put the incident out of his mind, but the sight of Jaskier proves him wrong. “Ready to go?” Geralt grunts. 

Jaskier opens his mouth and shuts it with a click of his teeth. “What are we waiting for?”

Geralt swings himself up onto Roach, and doesn’t let himself look back to make sure Jaskier follows. 

v.

Geralt’s eyes crack open as the door to the inn room squeaks. He grunts in displeasure at being disturbed, and then remembers Jaskier is supposed to be with the barmaid and bolts upright. The door is just out of view from the bed, so Geralt eases himself out of bed and picks up the dagger. He creeps to where the wall juts out and then jumps out on the other side, revealing himself. 

“Is that a knife or are you just happy to see me?” Jaskier laughs nervously, and Geralt sheepishly drops the dagger onto the chair as his eyes widen. 

“What is with you and always being naked?” Geralt growls in frustration, trying not to look at the creamy expanse of Jaskier’s skin, marred with freckles instead of scars like Geralt’s. 

Jaskier’s brows pull together in confusion. “What?”

“Nevermind. Just—what is going on?”

“Ah. Right. That. I got…kicked out.”

“Did she have a husband?”

“Um, yes, yes, that’s exactly right. He did not appreciate the soiling of their marital bed.”

Geralt rolls his eyes fondly even as a pang of longing lodges itself right between his ribs. He doesn’t stop to examine it for too long. 

Geralt turns his back and slips back over to the bed. The one bed, because he had thought he would be alone tonight. Geralt sighs. 

There’s a quiet swish of fabric as Jaskier pulls on some clothes. “That was one of my favorite shirts, and now it’ll probably end up burnt or some other ridiculous thing.”

The doublet in question was a gaudy scarlet thing with obnoxious gold threading and beading sewn into it. The light always caught on it just wrong to shine into Geralt’s eyes and give him a headache. “What a pity.”

Jaskier shoves at his shoulder as he clambers into the bed without a second thought. Geralt swallows hard at the dip of the lumpy mattress, at the body what so close to his all of a sudden. Jaskier’s heartbeat thuds, and a peculiar smell drifts off of him that Geralt can’t quite place. 

Geralt turns over so that he’s facing Jaskier. “What’s wrong?”

Jaskier buries his face into the pillow. The one pillow, that he tugs away from Geralt. “Nothing,” he says, heaving a dramatic sigh. 

“Hmm. Well.” Geralt pauses and tries to think of a way to respond that won’t have Jaskier calling him an emotionless boulder later. “If you want to talk about it, I can listen.”

Jaskier lifts his head up from the pillow to meet Geralt’s eyes. “Wow, I didn’t know that I was speaking to anything other than the wall when I talk to you.”

Geralt yanks the pillow out from under Jaskier and hits him with it. “Shut up.”

+ i.

Jaskier sighs as he unfurls his bedroll. He’s been unleashing heavy sighs about once an hour for the past week, and it’s driving Geralt up the wall. He’s asked Jaskier if everything was all right four separate times now, and Jaskier has brushed him off each time. 

“Jaskier, just tell me what’s the matter,” he begs after Jaskier sighs as he returns with water from the stream. 

Jaskier plops the bucket down right next to the fire, and some splashes out and douses the small smolder Geralt had got started. 

“Jaskier,” Geralt growls before Jaskier can even react. 

“Fine! You want to know what’s so wrong? It’s you!”

Geralt rears back, blinking rapidly. He wants to make a beeline for Roach and try to get the feeling of Jaskier’s eyes boring into his out of his mind as soon as possible, but he can’t just leave Jaskier high and dry out here all alone. Geralt shakes his head and turns away. 

“Wait,” Jaskier’s hand comes around to clamp onto Geralt’s wrist. Geralt nearly shakes him off, but then Jaskier is saying again, “Wait. That’s not what I meant.”

Geralt meets Jaskier’s eyes cautiously and arches an eyebrow, waiting for an explanation. 

Jaskier rubs the back of his neck. “You know I got kicked out of that room the other night.”

Geralt grunts. “For cuckolding the husband?”

“Well, yes, but not exactly. I lied. There was no husband. Turns out some people aren’t all that impressed when you say the wrong name in the heat of things.”

“Jaskier, what does that have to do with—” 

“It’s you, Geralt,” he whispers. 

“Oh.”

Geralt is taken aback. He’s never had this happen with a human before. It’s… hard to imagine that a human could see him as anything other than repulsive, something to be tolerated just to part him from his coin. 

“And now I see that I’ve made a complete and total mess of things. I’m sorry, I’ll just—”

As Jaskier’s grip on his wrist loosens, Geralt takes Jaskier’s hand instead. “You haven’t made a mess of anything.”

Jaskier’s eyes widen before he reaches the hand Geralt isn’t holding up to cup Geralt’s face. Geralt turns his head to nuzzle into Jaskier’s hand, and Jaskier leans forward to press his lips to Geralt. Their fingers become untangled as they move on, Jaskier’s coming up to twist in Geralt’s hair, and Geralt’s stroking across Jaskier’s cheek bone. 

When they pull away, Jaskier lets out a disbelieving chuckle. “Wow. It seems like I could have saved my hand some work while we were on the road.”

Geralt rolls his eyes at Jaskier’s crudeness. 

“Come on, you know that was funny,” Jaskier wheedles into his ear. 

Geralt pushes him aside and crouches down to rebuild their fire. “You’re rarely funny.”

Jaskier claps a hand over his chest and splutters. “Okay, still incredibly rude. Nice to know some things never change, I suppose.”

Jaskier huffs and walks away, going over to feed Roach while Geralt attempts to find some kindling that isn’t damp. 

A smile tugs at Geralt’s lips. 

When the fire is roaring once again, Geralt wanders over to where Jaskier is now sitting against a tree. 

Geralt sits down beside him. “I do think you’re funny sometimes,” he admits. 

“You’ve already wounded my pride, Geralt; it’s too late.”

“And so if I offered you a… hand, you’d turn me down?”

Jaskier jerks his head up and turns to Geralt. “That is not what I said in any way, shape, or form.”

“Hmm.”

In the end, it doesn’t happen that night, or the day after that. It’s when they’re finally at an inn that Jaskier pounces on him. Geralt has barely shut the door to their room when Jaskier is on him. “I’ve been so patient,” he whines. 

Geralt raises his eyebrows, unconvinced. “All you had to do was ask.”

“Geralt, you’re impossible,” Jaskier huffs in exasperation. “Well, I’m asking now.”

Geralt kisses him, slow and sweet, and Jaskier groans his eagerness into his mouth. 

Jaskier’s fingers fumble with the clasps of his armor, until Geralt laughs and takes it off himself. When he turns back around after carefully setting all the pieces on a chair, Jaskier is already naked, and finally, Geralt allows himself to look. He drinks it in, notices the tiny scar Jaskier has on his thigh, rakes his eyes over Jaskier’s chest. He moves closer so he can comb his fingers down the hair between Jaskier’s pecs, and he preens at the attention. 

Jaskier reaches down to undo his trousers, and Geralt steps out of them. He takes off his shirt, and sheds his smallclothes, looking back up to see Jaskier staring at him. His soft expression turns into a self satisfied grin as he hums to himself. 

“What?” Geralt asks, already sure he doesn’t want to know the answer. 

“Nothing. Okay, fine, just—the carpet matches the drapes, is all.”

Geralt rolls his eyes. “It’s a mutation. Do you think I would choose for it to be white? What were you expecting?”

“You’re no fun,” Jaskier pauses. “What color did your hair used to be?”

Geralt stops and thinks. “Brown, probably? I don’t remember.”

Jaskier whistles. “That’s terribly sad. Do you think your childhood would make a good ballad? I bet it would.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt grits out. 

“Okay, okay. Insensitive, I apologize.”

Geralt pulls back, but Jaskier winds his arms around his shoulders and keeps him in place. “I’m sorry,” he says again, rubbing his nose against the delicate skin of Geralt’s neck. 

Geralt shudders and lets Jaskier distract him. It’s not like his childhood is something he particularly likes to dwell on, especially when there’s something much better for him to focus on in the form of Jaskier’s swelling cock judging against his hip. 

Jaskier presses up close against him, bracketing Geralt against the door and putting his palm flat over Geralt’s heart before he kisses him again. 

Geralt lets the sensation wash over him, the pleasant feelings and the vibration that sends a thrumming through his bones. He walks Jaskier back to the bed and lays him out, crawling on top and straddling him. 

Jaskier sucks in a breath. “Gods, Geralt. You’re beautiful.”

A hot blush rises to Geralt’s face and he turns away, but Jaskier takes his wrist. 

“Don’t mock me,” Geralt mumbles. 

“Darling,” Jaskier says, sitting up and taking both of Geralt’s hands in his. “I’m not.”

Geralt doesn’t know how to respond. He looks down at his body, littered with scars, some pink and small and some, long healed, white and wicked looking. “Hmm.”

Jaskier sighs and tugs Geralt in for another kiss, before he maneuvers Geralt so he’s the one laying down. Jaskier works his way down Geralt’s body, lingering on each scar until Geralt squirms uncomfortably beneath him. 

Jaskier huffs a soft laugh as he makes it to the soft inside of Geralt’s thighs, and Geralt starts squirming for a different reason. A whine comes from the back of Geralt’s throat as Jaskier continues to ignore his cock, throbbing and painful at this point. 

Jaskier finally has pity on him and takes him in hand, making Geralt sigh and his eyes flutter shut. Jaskier jacks him quickly, bringing Geralt to the edge faster than he would like to admit before he backs off and moves his hand. He goes back to tracing Geralt’s scars, his fingertips finding the one that cut through the muscle of his leg and healed jagged and rough. 

He hovers over a different one, looking up at Geralt with a question in his eyes. Jaskier’s wheedled most of the stories of his scars out of him, but this one—Geralt huffs. “I tripped over a rock and fell right onto a very pointy root,” he admits. 

Jaskier’s lips quirk up into a grin, and Geralt is about to chastise him for laughing when Jaskier directs his attention back to Geralt’s cock. 

Geralt gasps as warm heat envelops him, and his hand comes down to tangle in Jaskier’s soft hair. Jaskier’s other hand comes up to stroke the part of Geralt’s shaft not in his mouth and scoots further back to trail his fingertips over Geralt’s balls and ghost over his perineum to his hole. 

Geralt shudders at the feeling, and Jaskier pops off of him with a wet sound. “Can I—?”

“Yes, yes, please,” Geralt babbles. 

Jaskier disappears for a moment to rummage through his pack, and Geralt tries to slow his pulse. His heart is practically trying to thud out of his chest compared to its normal steady pace, so he sucks in a deep breath through his nose. 

Jaskier returns and settles himself between Geralt’s legs. Geralt lets Jaskier position him until his knees are bent and his feet are planted on the bed on either side of Jaskier. Geralt swallows past the lump forming in his throat as a wave of vulnerability crashes down on him. 

Jaskier must be able to sense his skittishness, because he takes Geralt’s hand in his and rubs soothing circles into it with his thumb. With his other hand, he rests the pad of his pointer finger against Geralt’s hole until he slips it in, a second finger quickly joining it. 

Geralt can feel himself tensing up, but he tries to relax, tries to let himself give in and just be boneless. 

Jaskier stretches him out until Geralt whines in anticipation. Jaskier chuckles and pats his clean hand on Geralt’s thigh. “I seem to recall you saying I was the impatient one?”

“Jaskier,” Geralt growls. 

Jaskier laughs again. “Fine, fine. I truly don’t understand why people think you’re so frightening.”

Geralt could list a few reasons, but he doesn’t want to kill the mood. He just grunts at Jaskier until he finally shuffles closer to Geralt and presses inside of him. 

Geralt’s head thumps back against the mattress as he squeezes his eyes shut, adjusting to the overwhelming fullness and the way the feeling radiates through his stomach. 

Are you good?” Jaskier whispers. 

Geralt nods, one of his hands finding Jaskier’s and tangling their fingers together, while the other grips the sheets as Jaskier begins to thrust.

He starts out slow, almost too slow for Geralt to bear, each slide dragging inside of him and creating delicious friction while the head of Jaskier’s cock nudges his prostate.

Geralt hums. 

“Let me hear you,” Jaskier says into his ear. 

Geralt looks off to the side, but Jaskier puts a finger on his chin and tilts his head back. “You’ve never been shy; don’t start now.”

Geralt stays sullenly even quieter than before, deliberately slowing his breathing. 

Jaskier laughs at his obstinance. “No performance review for me?”

“Just shut up and fuck me,” Geralt says breathlessly. 

“Who am I to say no to that?” Jaskier asks, and then there’s no more talking for a while, just gasps and moans as Jaskier slams into Geralt at a pace that leaves them both panting. 

Finally, Jaskier shudders to his climax and wraps a hand around Geralt’s weeping cock to bring him over the edge with him. 

Jaskier slips out of him and collapses onto the bed beside him, draping his leg over Geralt’s thigh, his fingers meandering their way again to the forest of scars that live on Geralt’s skin. 

“You’re lovely. Do you believe me yet?”

Geralt gives an unimpressed hum. 

“Well, lucky for you, I have the whole rest of my life to make you see reason.”

Geralt likes the sound of that.