#Golden Boot race odds and more"

[chosok-amo]

Hi suki🫶 may i request umemiya taking care of sick reader? I read your satosugu x reader, and i wonder what umemiya will do😋 thank you

NASTY FEVER : UMEMIYA HAJIME

you’ve been mia since yesterday, making your boyfriend worried. when umemiya comes to your bedroom, he finds you unable to move from your nasty fever.

warning. established relationship! umemiya, fluff.

THERE WILL BE PART TWO (A SMUT, HIHI).

umemiya had been staring at his phone screen all morning, watching the line of unanswered texts he’d sent you. he tried calling you again, but once more, the call went straight to voicemail. he frowned, checking the time and realizing how unusual this was. you, of all people, ignoring him? the thought alone made him uneasy. you were the spoiled, clingy one, always texting and calling him at odd hours, demanding attention with the playful charm he adored. but now? complete silence.

unable to shake the worry gnawing at him, he decided to go see you himself. he climbed into his car, a sleek black vehicle that he only drove when visiting your estate, the car he bought after working for hours just to provide you the things you deserve—because otherwise, his bike was more his style—and set off.

when he arrived, he was greeted by your enormous mansion, an estate tucked behind towering iron gates, with manicured lawns and rows of imported flowers lining the driveway. the building was a sight to behold, almost as if it had been taken straight out of a modern fairytale: wide, high-ceilinged windows, intricate stonework, and a massive fountain in the front courtyard. he drove up to the entrance, where a valet opened his car door, and he tossed the keys over, barely pausing as he walked inside.

as he entered the grand foyer, the high ceilings and chandeliers reflected the wealth surrounding him. marble floors gleamed under his boots, and the soft sounds of a piano playing in one of the far rooms filled the air, likely a recording from one of the estate’s speakers. without wasting a second, he made his way to the staircase, a luxurious spiral lined with deep red carpet and framed by golden banisters, leading up to your bedroom. he took the steps two at a time, the worry he’d tried to keep at bay now growing with each step.

reaching the top, he walked through the expansive hallway, glancing at the opulent decor along the walls, each piece more valuable than the last—priceless paintings, crystal vases, intricate carvings. but none of it mattered to him now. he pushed open the double doors to your bedroom, stepping inside and glancing around the enormous space.

your bedroom was like a world of its own, with floor-to-ceiling windows draped in silk curtains, furniture so plush and ornate that it looked like it belonged in a palace, and a chandelier above the bed, casting a warm glow that softened the room’s already rich tones. his gaze landed on the king-sized bed at the center, where you were curled up under the layers of silk and velvet blankets like a tiny cocoon.

“hey,” he whispered, his voice breaking the silence as he stepped closer, heart racing a little. you looked so small, so fragile, wrapped up like that in the middle of your extravagant room.

he sat down on the edge of the bed, reaching out to gently pull the blanket down from your face. as the fabric slid away, he could finally see you: your features relaxed, your eyelashes casting soft shadows against your cheeks. he exhaled, a mixture of relief and worry swirling in his chest. “you had me worried sick,” he murmured to himself, his hand finding its way to your cheek, brushing gently.

as umemiya sat on the edge of the bed, his gaze softened, finally getting a close look at you. at first, he felt relieved just seeing you there, but the longer he watched, the more he noticed something wasn’t right. your skin, usually full of warmth and color, looked pale and drained under the soft lighting in the room, almost as if the life had been sapped from you.

a frown creased his brow as he reached out, his hand hovering near your face for a moment before gently pressing the back of his hand to your forehead. instantly, his eyes widened in concern—you were burning up. your skin was hot to the touch, feverish in a way that made his stomach twist.

“hey… you’re burning up,” he whispered, his voice laced with worry as his thumb brushed gently over your cheek. even in sleep, you looked uneasy, your face drawn and slightly flushed from the fever. beads of sweat glistened along your forehead, and he noticed a shiver pass through you despite the heat radiating from your skin.

he couldn’t remember ever seeing you like this. usually, you were lively, bright, and demanding in the best way, always pulling him into whatever you had planned for the day. but now, curled up and silent, you looked fragile, too still for his comfort.

swallowing the worry building in his chest, umemiya leaned closer, his hand moving to cup your face gently. “baby, wake up,” he murmured, trying to rouse you without startling you. his thumb continued to trace soft circles on your cheek, hoping that the gentle touch would bring you back just enough to talk to him.

your eyelids fluttered, opening slightly, and you let out a quiet, barely-there groan. your gaze met his, but it was hazy, like you were looking through him rather than at him. “haji…?” your voice was a weak whisper, barely audible.

he blinked at the sound of his name on your lips, relief mixing with concern as your eyes fluttered open, albeit just barely. the way you looked at him—through him, rather than at him—sent a chill down his spine. it was like you were there, but not quite.

“yeah, it’s me, baby,” he murmured back, trying to keep his voice steady as he ran his fingers through your hair, his thumb sweeping over your forehead before moving down to your feverish cheek. your skin was like fire, the heat radiating off of you making him frown tighter.

he moved closer to the middle of the bed, sitting beside you and studying your face closely. he noticed the light shiver that wracked through your body, a contrast to the feverish heat of your skin. “you’re burning up, princess… how long have you been like this?”

he scanned your face, noting the way your eyes seemed to struggle to focus on him, and the slight crease between your brows from discomfort. gently, he brushed his hand over your forehead again, trying to push back your hair, but it only seemed to cling to your sweaty skin.

“why didn’t you tell me you were sick?” he murmured, his voice laced with a mixture of worry and a little annoyance. “i was calling you all morning and yesterday, you didn’t pick up. i was worried sick.”

you barely registered his words, the gentle timbre of his voice mixing with the heat pounding in your head. though you could feel his hand brushing your forehead, his fingers moving tenderly through your hair, it felt as if he was miles away. your eyes drifted closed again, too heavy to keep open, and the exhaustion pressing down on you made responding feel impossible.

“hey, hey,” he said softly, his voice tinged with an edge of panic as he saw you slipping back into that hazy state. “don’t go quiet on me now,” he murmured, his hand cupping your face and his thumb tracing gentle circles against your flushed skin.

your chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, and another shiver ran through you, making you curl deeper into yourself. he frowned, feeling helpless, as he watched you struggle even to keep your eyes open. “come on, sweetheart… just a little longer,” he whispered, leaning closer, almost as if his presence alone could shield you from the fever’s grip.

but instead of replying, you simply let out a soft sigh, your body giving in to the fever’s exhaustion once more. it was as if responding took too much effort, each second sapping your strength further, until you couldn’t do anything but sink back into the comforting darkness.

a mixture of worry and frustration rose in his chest. you were so weak, so unlike your usual self… it was all so sudden too. he’d seen you just a few days ago, and you were fine then. so how the hell did you end up like this?

he shook his head, pushing back the barrage of questions and focusing on the more pressing matter at hand. you were sick, and sick bad. he needed to do something. he gently shook your shoulder, his fingers applying a light pressure. “baby, stay with me. come on, open your eyes.”

he kept his voice soft, but firm, not wanting to startle you, but also desperate for you to respond fully. his hand slid from your shoulder to your cheek, gripping you a bit tighter.

“i need you to wake up for me, princess. c’mon, you’re scaring the hell out of me.” his gaze traveled over your face again, trying to see if there was any change. you were so still, so unresponsive. it was like you were trapped in some sort of feverish stupor.

your body responded first, a soft jolt running through you as if your mind finally registered the gentle shake. your eyelids fluttered, the weight of exhaustion making each blink feel like an enormous effort, but at the sound of his voice, you fought to open them. hazy and unfocused, your gaze settled on him, trying to make sense of his worried face through the feverish fog clouding your vision.

“haji…?” your voice was barely a whisper, weak and breathy, as if even speaking his name took every ounce of strength left in you. your throat felt dry, the word scratching out as you blinked slowly, struggling to stay present.

he let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, a mix of relief and fear flooding his expression as his fingers brushed against your cheek. “yeah, it’s me, princess. i’m right here,” he murmured softly, but there was an urgency beneath his tone, a plea for you to stay awake, to stay with him.

you tried to smile, a faint tug at the corners of your mouth, but it faltered quickly as a wave of dizziness washed over you, making you close your eyes again. “i… i don’t feel good,” you whispered, voice barely audible as you shifted slightly, curling further into the warmth of the blanket but instinctively leaning into his touch.

as you spoke, his heart clenched in his chest. the sound of your weak voice, so unlike your usual bright and animated tone, just drove home how serious this was. “yeah, you’ve got a serious nasty fever,” he murmured, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your cheek. “when did this start, princess?”

he shifted his position, moving to sit closer beside you on the bed, his weight denting the mattress as he adjusted the blanket around you. he reached out, gently brushing back some of the hair sticking to your forehead. you were burning up, but shivering like you were cold.

your head shook weakly, barely a tilt as you struggled to even keep your eyes open. “i… i don’t know,” you whispered, voice trailing off in a soft rasp. the effort it took to form the words felt exhausting, like even the smallest movement drained what little strength you had left.

you blinked, trying to focus on his face, but everything seemed blurry, like you were looking at him through a thick haze. “just… feels like it came out of nowhere,” you mumbled, your voice sounding as distant to yourself as it did to him.

you shifted slightly, wincing as a shiver wracked through you, your body’s warmth a painful contrast to the chills creeping over you. instinctively, you leaned closer to him, seeking out his warmth, the feeling of his presence somehow reassuring. your fingers curled weakly against the blanket, clutching it closer to your chest as you muttered, “sorry… didn’t mean to worry you…”

he exhaled through his nose, frustration mixing with concern. the uncertainty only heightened his worry. how long had you been sick without him knowing? how high did your fever reach before he showed up? it could’ve been dangerous.

he swallowed hard, trying to ignore the tightness in his chest. you looked so delicate, so unlike your usual feisty self. normally, you’d be demanding attention and playing up how vulnerable you were. but now, all he saw was genuine fragility.

“don’t apologise… just stay awake for me, okay? just a few more minutes,” he assured, his hands gently running along your arms over your blanket, trying to soothe the shivers that wracked your body.

he leaned closer, one hand moving to hold your forehead, the other resting on your cheek. he had to keep you awake long enough to get some medication in you. “how long have you been in bed?” he pressed, his voice a soft prodding.

your eyes fluttered open, just barely, as you tried to recall. it felt like days, time blending together in a feverish haze. “since… yesterday? i think,” you murmured, uncertainty lacing your voice, the words coming out in a weak, almost questioning tone. the memories were fuzzy, each attempt to think it over making your head pound harder.

you swallowed, feeling the dryness in your throat and the weight in your limbs. “i… i tried to get up,” you admitted softly, closing your eyes again as exhaustion pulled at you. “but… i couldn’t,” you added, almost like it was an apology, frustration slipping through your voice as you pressed yourself further into the pillow.

he gritted his teeth, trying to suppress the wave of worry that washed over him. yesterday? you’d been like this for a day?

“why didn’t you call me, princess?” he asked suddenly, his tone sharper than he intended. but the thought of you being here, alone and sick for that long, just made his anger flare.

he immediately tried to soften his voice, realising that wasn’t exactly helpful right now. he leaned closer, one hand still against your forehead, the other tracing gentle patterns on your cheek. “i would’ve come over. you know that.”

umemiya’s jaw clenched as he watched you slip back into that feverish haze, eyes fluttering shut once again, caught somewhere between wakefulness and sleep. his gaze softened despite the frustration simmering beneath, taking in the flush that colored your cheeks, the way your lashes brushed against your skin. you looked fragile, far too fragile, and it made his chest tighten with anger and helplessness.

he let his eyes drift around the room, the opulent space feeling eerily quiet and empty, the silence amplifying his worry. how had no one noticed? how had no one thought to check on you? but he caught himself, remembering the countless times you’d insisted on your solitude, telling every worker in the house to leave you be able unless you called them—something he’d grown to understand and respect, even if it frustrated him now.

you’d always been strict about your quality time, loving your own space, always setting your own boundaries. he also knew about your parents’ long work trips once you told him days ago, leaving you alone for weeks. he felt a pang of worry, realizing how long you might’ve been curled up in this bed, too sick to even get up.

still, the thought of you here, curled up alone in this grand room, with no one to look after you gnawed at him. he exhaled deeply, a slow sigh escaping as he reached out, brushing a thumb gently across your fever-warmed cheek. his other hand moved to check the blanket, making sure it was snug around you.

“have you even eaten?” he whispered to himself, his voice thick with concern. he brushed his thumb gently over your forehead, feeling the heat radiate from you, and his jaw tightened. he’d never forgive himself if he left you to go through this alone.

you managed a faint shake of your head, your movements slow and weak, but it was enough to make his heart sink. even in your half-conscious state, you were honest, admitting in that small gesture that you hadn’t eaten, that you’d been here alone and struggling.

umemiya’s jaw clenched, again, his eyes darkening with both worry and a quiet anger at the thought of you lying here for so long, too sick to even take care of yourself. “damn it, princess,” he murmured, voice breaking with a mixture of frustration and affection. his other thumb traced softly over your cheek, his touch tender despite the tightness in his expression. “you should’ve called me… you don’t have to handle everything alone.”

as you shook your head weakly, the admission of having not eaten sent a stabbing pain through his chest. you’d been here, alone and vulnerable, and you didn’t even have the strength to eat. he could barely hold back the rush of anger and worry.

“jesus christ, princess…” he muttered, his hand move to clenching the blanket at your side, trying to keep his emotions in check. he didn’t want to upset you, not when you looked so fragile, but the thought of you here... “why do you always have to be so damn stubborn?”

he grumbled under his breath, anger simmering within him, the fact that you didn’t call him the second you started feeling unwell driving him crazy. he knew you were stubborn, but this was on a whole new level. you were sick, you were suffering, alone and in pain. without a word, he reached for the home phone on one of the bedside tables, dialing the direct line to the kitchen.

a soft beeping sound filled the room as he waited for someone in the kitchen to pick up. he still held your cheek gently with his other hand, feeling the heat radiating from your fevered skin. as the line finally connected, a familiar voice sounded from the other end.

“yes, sir?” the kitchen staff member greeted warmly to umemiya after hearing his polite yet firm voice, clearly recognizable from having worked in the house for years. your staff are already familiar with umemiya, so when they hear a man’s voice they instantly know it was him. “send up some food,” umemiya ordered, his voice firm with no room for argument. “soup—chicken noodle, and some water. no, wait. make that ginger tea, add some honey too.”

he looked down at you, your figure so small and fragile under the covers. he couldn’t shake the feeling of worry and anger from his gut. even after all this time, you were still so damn stubborn, and it frustrated him to no end.

“yes, sir,” the voice replied calmly on the other end of the line. “anything else?”

umemiya glanced around the room before answering gruffly, “yes. send some medicine—fever reducers and anti-inflammatory,” he paused, eyeing your weakened form. “and something for a sore throat too.”

“right away, sir.” the voice responded swiftly, understanding the gravity of the situation from the tone of his voice alone.

he hung up, placing the phone back on the bedside table, and turning his attention fully back to you. he moved his hand from your cheek, but not before letting his touch linger for a moment. he sat back a bit, letting his eyes roam over you again, seeing the small shivers that continued to wrack through your body. he leaned forward, pulling the blanket as tightly around you as he could.

a faint murmur slipped from your lips, barely above a whisper, “cold…” the word sounded so small, carrying a fragile edge that made umemiya’s heart twist. he took in the sight of your shivering form, noticing for the first time how thin your shirt was, your legs barely covered by your shorts.

“i’ll fix that,” he whispered, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your feverish forehead before he stood up. he hesitated for a second, his gaze lingering on you, then he walked over to your walk-in closet. the sprawling space was filled with clothes and luxurious fabrics, but he focused only on finding something warm, something that would help ease your shivering.

as he picked out a soft, thick sweater and a pair of cozy sweatpants, he felt an urgency—an overwhelming need to see you comfortable again. he returned to your bedside, sitting beside you once more. “let’s get you warmed up, okay, baby?” he murmured gently, brushing a few strands of hair back from your face.

you responded with a small, almost imperceptible nod, your lips curling up into a weak, grateful smile. your eyes were half-lidded, exhaustion pulling at your body, but you still managed to muster a response, your voice a faint, strained whisper.

“yeah…”

he saw the way you watched him, though your eyes seemed heavy and unfocused, you still tracked his movements. he could see the relief in your gaze, a silent thanks for his being here. umemiya gave you one last reassuring look before he set to work, shifting and tugging at the covers.

unemeiya managed to get you dressed, the thick, comfortable material of the sweater and sweatpants providing some much-needed warmth to your shivering form. he tucked the blanket around you, making sure every inch of you was covered, trying to block out the chill that seemed to permeate every inch of the room.

he laid a gentle hand on your forehead again, the heat still burning underneath his touch. he noticed the sweat beading on your skin, your fevered state clearly taking its toll. he needed that medicine—now.

after a while, umemiya finally managed to settle you against the headboard, your back resting comfortably against the soft pillows he’d piled behind you. the blankets were wrapped snugly around your shoulders, a small comfort against the feverish chill that clung to your skin.

“here, just a little more,” he murmured, holding the bowl of soup carefully in one hand while lifting a spoonful to your lips with the other. his eyes softened as you blinked drowsily, barely managing to focus on him. even through the haze, you kept your gaze on him, as if anchoring yourself to his presence.

you parted your lips, accepting each spoonful as he fed you with a tenderness that spoke of his worry and care. his thumb brushed over your knuckles, tracing gentle circles in reassurance as he murmured, “that’s it… one more.”

with each bite, he stayed close, watching you carefully, his gaze never leaving yours for long. though weak, you could sense the warmth in his eyes, a silent promise that he wasn’t going anywhere. it was enough to bring a small comfort through the fever’s hold on you, as he patiently helped you through each bite.

a weak chuckle slipped from your lips, catching his attention as he continued to frown, his brow furrowed in silent frustration. you could see that sulky look in his eyes, the kind he wore whenever he was quietly scolding you—this time for not telling him you were sick.

“what’s so funny?” he muttered, his voice laced with concern, though he couldn’t quite hide the hint of annoyance. you gave him a small, hazy smile. “you’re frowning like i committed a crime,” you teased weakly, voice barely above a whisper.

as your voice floated over, he couldn't help but huff a soft sigh, his lips almost curving into a smile. even when you were sick and exhausted, you still managed to be a smartass, still managed to find the humour in his worry.

he let his gaze travel over your face for a second, taking in the slight flush to your cheeks, the fever still leaving its mark. his fingers ran softly over your skin, feeling the heat that radiated off of you. “pretty sure being this stubborn should be a crime,” he muttered, his tone half-teasing, half-concerned.

he brought the next spoonful of soup to your lips, his eyes meeting yours. “open up,” he gently commanded. you were slowly but surely finishing the bowl, each spoonful a testament to your progress. you took each bite obediently, too tired to argue or protest. but the way you looked at him, the fire in your eyes still burning despite the fever, made him smile.

as he fed you another spoonful, he chuckled softly, a sound that rumbled in his chest. “look at you, all compliant. guess you’re easier to handle with a fever, yeah?” he chuckles.

“you’re lucky you’re sick as hell, otherwise i’d be yelling at you right now,” he continued, his voice taking a firmer tone, though the worry in his eyes betrayed the attempt to chide you. he lifted another spoonful of soup, holding it to your lips, waiting for you to take it before he spoke again. “do you know how worried i was, princess?” he asked, his frown deepening slightly, the question clearly rhetorical.

you managed a weak chuckle, your lips curling into a small smirk as you glanced up at him. “did i make you cry, haji?” you teased, voice raspy but playful, though you could barely keep your eyes open. despite the fatigue weighing on you, the spark in your gaze was unmistakable.

umemiya scoffed, rolling his eyes, though a slight smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “yeah, right. you wish,” he muttered, feigning offense. “you might have had me a little freaked out, but you’re not getting any tears out of me.”

he brought another spoonful of soup to your lips, his eyes still watching you intently. “you should be focusing on getting better, not cracking jokes,” he chided softly, but his smile betrayed the warmth beneath his words.

as you took the spoonful, you gave him a small grin, savoring the way he fussed over you. “i’ll keep that in mind… next time i wanna make you cry,” you whispered, too tired to manage more than a lazy smile.

umemiya huffed out a soft laugh, shaking his head at your sass. even with a fever, you were still as cheeky as ever. “yeah, yeah, princess. don’t push your luck,” he reprimanded, though his voice betrayed his amusement. he knew you well. once you were set on something, especially the act of teasing him, there was no stopping you.

he chuckled, gently brushing a stray hair from your forehead. “keep talking like that, and i’ll start charging for this five-star nursing service,” he teased back, though his hand lingered, his thumb gently stroking your temple.

after, he stirred the spoon in the bowl, watching the broth swirl around, then brought it up to your lips again, holding your gaze as he spoke. “one more spoonful. think you can manage?”

you gave him a small, weary nod, lips parting slightly as he brought the spoon to your mouth. though every muscle in your body felt heavy, there was something soothing about his presence, the gentle way he held your gaze, the warmth of his fingers as they lingered at your temple.

as you swallowed the last spoonful, a soft hum of satisfaction slipped past his lips. he placed the bowl back on the bedside table before he leaned closer to you, his eyes roaming over you. the slight flush to your cheeks was now more pronounced, the fever still holding its grip.

he reached out and laid a hand on your forehead, feeling the heat beneath his palm. he frowned slightly, the worry still etched across his features. “you’re still burning up…” he muttered, his fingers tracing the edge of your jaw.

you nodded slowly, your voice barely above a whisper. “still feel like shit…” you admitted, your eyes drifting to the glass sitting on the bedside table. the dryness in your throat only added to your discomfort. “and... thirsty.”

umemiya nodded, understanding your needs without you even having to say much. he reached for the glass of water, wrapping his fingers around the cool, smooth glass. he held it for you and guided it to your lips, gently supporting the back of your head. “try to take small sips, okay? too much too fast and you’ll throw up,” he instructed quietly.

he watched as you took small sips, making sure each one went down without issue. he observed your movements, noting the tiredness in your eyes, though he couldn’t help noticing the slight quirk of your lips as you looked at him. he chuckled softly, his eyes never leaving your face. “what’s that look for?” he asked, curiosity lacing his voice as he placed the glass back on the bedside table.

you chuckled weakly, shaking your head in response to his question. “nothing,” you murmured, though a small smile lingered on your lips. there was something comforting about his presence, the way he fussed over you even when you felt your worst.

umemiya, noticing that you hadn’t finished the tea your staff had prepared earlier, picked up the warm cup and held it out to you. “you need to drink this too,” he insisted gently. “it’ll help with the fever.”

you took a few more sips, the warmth spreading through your body, making you feel a bit better despite the lingering fatigue. he watched you closely, his eyes filled with a mixture of concern and affection, making sure you drank as much as you could.

once you managed to finish most of the tea, he reached for the medication, his demeanor shifting to one of gentle authority. “alright, time for your medicine,” he said, opening the packet and handing you the pills along with another glass of water. “just take it easy and swallow these down. i’ll be right here.” you nodded, taking the pills and the water, grateful for his insistence. as you swallowed, you felt the heaviness in your body begin to lift, even if just slightly. his nurturing care wrapped around you like a warm blanket, easing the discomfort you felt inside.

umemiya watched as you swallowed the pills, a sense of relief washing over him. he knew they’d help bring your fever down, make you feel better. his eyes still roamed over you, taking in your tired form, your pale skin, the way your shoulders sagged with fatigue.

he moved closer, his hand reaching out to brush a few strands of hair back from your face. “feeling any better?” he asked quietly, his voice filled with concern and affection. his fingers lingered at your temple, tracing small, soothing circles on your skin.

you raised an eyebrow at him, a playful smirk forming on your lips despite the fatigue that weighed you down. “oh, yeah, it feels like magic,” you said sarcastically, your voice laced with a hint of teasing. “a minutes in, and i’m already dancing around like a fairy.”

it was hard to keep the teasing tone out of your voice, even in your current state. the way he hovered over you, checking in with such genuine concern, warmed your heart despite the fever that still clung to you.

you couldn’t help but feel a little amused by his eagerness to gauge the effects of the medicine so soon. it hadn’t even been a minutes since you swallowed the pills, yet here he was, acting like he was waiting for some miraculous recovery. his affection was palpable, wrapping around you like a cozy blanket, and you felt a flutter in your chest. it was comforting to know he cared so much, even when you felt like a shell of your usual self.

umemiya chuckled at your sarcastic reply, his eyebrows lifting in amusement. he should’ve known better, even feverish and exhausted, you still kept your sass. your witty comebacks, the way you didn’t lose that edge, even in your state of illness— it was one of the things he loved about you.

he shook his head, a smirk tugging at his lips. “you’re a real comedian, you know that?” he teased back, his hand still tracing patterns across your skin, his touch gentle yet firm.

you laughed softly, a mix of sarcasm and playful defiance in your voice. “what can i say, baby? i’m a natural entertainer, even when i’m a hot mess,” you replied, a teasing glint in your eyes despite the fatigue weighing you down. the laughter felt good, a small reprieve from the fever that still clung to you.

“besides, someone has to keep you on your toes, haji. wouldn’t want you getting too comfortable playing nurse,” you added, a smirk dancing on your lips. it was a lighthearted jab, a way to keep the atmosphere from becoming too heavy. his smirk only deepened, and you could see the fondness in his gaze as he continued to gently brush his fingers along your skin, creating a soothing rhythm that calmed your racing thoughts.

“but really, i appreciate you being here. just don’t expect a standing ovation for my performance tonight,” you quipped, chuckling again softly, the warmth of his presence wrapping around you like a comforting blanket.

umemiya chuckled, shaking his head again. only you could find a way to keep your spirits up, even in your weakened state. he knew it was a defense mechanism, a way to mask the discomfort behind your witty banter.

“oh, princess, i already have a standing ovation in mind for you,” he teased back, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “but it’ll have to wait until you’re feeling better.” he could see the fatigue in your eyes, the way they were starting to droop as you tried to keep up the banter.

umemiya felt a surge of warmth in his chest as he watched you, the fatigue beginning to win the battle against your spirited facade. wanting to comfort you in the best way he could, he moved slowly, shedding his clothes until he was only in his boxers. he wanted to keep you warm, and sharing body heat felt like the perfect solution.

sliding under the covers beside you, he nestled in close, a playful grin on his face. “come here, you little shit,” he joked, his voice light but laced with affection. wrapping his arms around your shoulders, he pulled you against him, your body fitting perfectly against his.

he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, feeling the heat radiate from your skin. “you’re stealing all my body heat, you know,” he teased, though the warmth of you pressed against him was comforting. his heart swelled with affection, grateful to be here with you, even if the circumstances weren’t ideal. “but i guess i can’t complain,” he murmured, his fingers brushing through your hair as he held you close, hoping his warmth would help chase away the chill of your fever.

you let out a weak giggle, the sound light and airy despite your fatigue. instinctively, you wrapped your arm around his bare waist, seeking comfort in his warmth as you nestled your head against his hard chest. the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath you was soothing, grounding you amidst the haze of your fever.

“guess i’ll take the heat, then,” you murmured, your voice slightly muffled against his skin. there was a sense of safety in being so close to him, a shield against the chill that had settled in your bones. his warmth enveloped you like a blanket of sun kissing your skin in the morning, and for a moment, the discomfort of your illness faded into the background.

you could feel the tension in his body ease as he held you, his fingers gently tracing patterns on your back. it was a simple gesture, but it spoke volumes of his care. the banter may have been playful, but this closeness was what truly made you feel better. with umemiya beside you, even the worst of days seemed a little more bearable.

umemiya relished in the way your body fit against his, the way you instinctively clung to him. it felt good to hold you like this, even if it was because you were sick. he held you closer, his fingers tracing soft lines across your back, feeling the shiver that still clung to your body.

“you’re always stealing my body heat,” he teased again, his voice low and rough. “just can’t keep your hands off me, huh?” he chuckled lightly, the sound rumbling in his chest beneath your ear.

you hummed softly at his teasing, a playful smile tugging at your lips as your fingers began to run gently up and down his chest. the warmth radiating from him felt incredibly comforting, and the connection between you only deepened with each gentle stroke.

“maybe you can stay the night for today,” you suggested lightly, your voice playful yet sincere. the thought of having him beside you, wrapped up in each other’s warmth while you tried to shake off the fever, was immensely appealing. you loved how his presence made everything feel safer, more secure.

you looked up at him, your eyes sparkling with mischief despite your exhaustion. “what do you say, haji? an all-night nursing shift, just for me?” you added, teasingly batting your lashes, the affectionate banter bringing a bit of life back into your weary body.

umemiya chuckled at your suggestion, a flicker of warmth in his eyes at the thought. the idea of spending the night with you, watching over you as you fought off the fever, appealed to him more than he cared to admit.

“hmm, an all-night nursing shift, just for you, princess?” he repeated, feigning reluctance before a smirk tugged at his lips. “and here i thought i was already working overtime, given how stubborn you’ve been all day.” he let his arms tighten around you, pulling you closer into his chest.

“fine, but you owe me. big time,” he paused for a moment, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your back, taking a moment to relish in the feeling of having you close. “now close those pretty eyes and try to get some rest,” he instructed softly, his voice filled with a tender firmness. “the faster you fall asleep, the sooner you’ll kick this fever’s ass.”

you let out a soft sigh, feeling the weight of your exhaustion wash over you. “all right,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper as you closed your eyes, succumbing to the warmth and comfort surrounding you.

you tightened your arm around his waist, pulling him even closer beneath the blanket. his steady heartbeat against your ear was soothing, and you focused on that rhythmic sound, allowing it to lull you into a sense of peace. the tension in your body began to melt away, the worry and discomfort fading as you nestled against him, feeling safe and cherished.

“just don’t let go,” you added softly, your voice muffled against his chest, wanting to hold onto this moment for as long as you could.

umemiya chuckled lightly at your demand, a soft rumble in his chest. “like i could ever,” he muttered quietly, his voice thick with affectionate amusement. he tightened his arms around you, pulling you firmly against him, wanting to comfort you and provide you with the reassurance you craved.

he leaned his head down, his lips brushing against your forehead, leaving behind a gentle kiss. “go on, princess. just let it all go. get some shut eye, you stubborn little thing,” he encouraged gently, his fingers running lazily through your hair.

he continued to hold you, his touch gentle and soothing, his fingers tracing small, slow circles on your back. he could feel your breathing begin to deepen, the steady rhythm of your body against his letting him know you were finally falling asleep.

umemiya looked down at you, the soft rise and fall of your chest against his, the way you clung tightly to him. he couldn’t help but smile, feeling a sense of protectiveness as he watched over you, ensuring you got the rest you so desperately needed.

he continued the soothing motion, his fingers moving along your scalp, trying to ease any remaining tension. “don’t worry about a thing, princess. i’ll be right here when you wake up,” he murmured, voice barely above the whisper with his lips on your forehead.

for hours, he remained in that space, his gaze flickering between the television screen and your peaceful face. the soft glow of the screen cast gentle shadows across the room, but his attention was mostly on you, the way you nestled against him, your breathing gradually becoming steadier.

each time he caught a glimpse of you, he felt a wave of warmth and protectiveness wash over him. he couldn’t help but smile as he gently pressed his lips to your forehead, the action becoming instinctual, a silent promise that he would be there for you. his fingers continued to stroke your hair, weaving through the strands, creating a rhythm that seemed to sync with your deepening sleep.

he kept the TV volume low, not wanting to disturb you, but found himself growing restless as the hours ticked by. despite your peaceful slumber, he could sense the occasional hitch in your breath, the subtle sign that your body was still battling the fever. he continued to soothe you with his touch, whispering soft reassurances that you might not even hear.

“i’ve got you,” he whispered quietly, though he knew you couldn’t hear him. the world outside faded away, and for him, nothing mattered more than ensuring you felt safe and loved in that moment. he stayed vigilant, anticipating the moment you’d wake, ready to shower you with affection and care. in the stillness of the room, umemiya felt a sense of peace settle over him, knowing he’d be right there when you opened your eyes again.

[t3a-tan]

Tiny Oliver, big Jamai, and tiny Sammy, with 17 and 18?

17. “I don’t care how big you are, I will fight you!”

18. “Please don’t try to fight someone literally ____ times your size.”

Ooo I can't express how excited I was to write a Jamai g/t interaction for the first time in ages ^^

From this!

-----

Oliver wasn’t exactly sure what happened; one moment he and Sammy were headed to the nearby creek in order to refill the water tank, and the next there was a sudden blinding bright light. When they opened their eyes they were no longer in the same spot they once stood in, although they were clearly still in a forest.

The unfamiliar forest was flourishing and bursting with life. The grass was soft, wildflowers and clovers dotted all across the forest floor, and there were trees tens of metres tall. The canopy of golden leaves was so thick that it allowed almost no sunlight through— and yet the forest was illuminated by iridescent moss hanging onto the trunks of the towering trees.

The gentle sound of a babbling brook could be heard in the distance, alongside the singing and chirping of birds flying high above their heads. It was peaceful; like a paradise completely isolated from society, where nature had been allowed to prosper rather than being destroyed for convenience or to make space for new buildings. Oliver found the sight simply breathtaking.

“Where the fuck are we??” Sammy wasn’t in as much awe as her cousin, more preoccupied with what had happened and why on earth they were suddenly surrounded by a giant unfamiliar landscape. Oliver bristled, glancing over his shoulder at her.

“Language. And…I’m not exactly certain.” He reached out and squeezed her hand reassuringly, a smile pressing at the corners of his lips. Despite his own confusion and growing concern over the situation he didn’t want her to panic. “I’m sure it’s only temporary though… in any case, I’m here to protect you now, okay?”

Sammy’s furrowed brows and panicked gaze faded at his words. She knew she was a much more capable fighter and survivor than Oliver was, but his reassurances still provided her with the comfort she had been deprived of for so long. She remained vigilant but nodded.

Oliver hummed.

“This is definitely not the forest I live in, or one nearby… I’ve mapped out every inch of them and yet I’ve never seen such golden leaves, even in autumn.” He let go of Sammy’s hand and walked over to the base of one of the immense trees, brushing a hand against the bark to feel the texture. It was smooth and almost soft, unlike the cracked bark of the oak trees Oliver was used to. “If only I had my notebook…”

“Nerd.” Sammy remarked with a chuckle before taking a look around for herself, walking towards a blossoming pink flower that had green vine-like tendrils coming out of it and burrowing into the ground. As she wandered closer to the odd plant, suddenly a voice spoke up.

“I wouldn’t suggest approaching that nephorus any further. You’ll get eaten.”

Sammy cried out in surprise, noticing the sudden appearance of a giant shadow that now enveloped her entire form. She spun around, falling onto her behind and coming face to face with two boots that could easily snuff her out of existence. She couldn’t help the way her heart started racing, her gaze slowly panning upwards to the masked face of the man looming high above her.

He was standing up straight, only a few inches away from her with his head angled downwards, his expression completely indecipherable. Sammy’s muscles froze up and she found herself incapable of making any sound in that moment.

Oliver heard the voice and was startled too— there was no sound of footsteps or any sign that there was a human nearby after all— but he recovered quickly, focusing on Sammy instead as he could see that she had gone still. He hastily made the short distance to where she was sitting, tapping her on the shoulder to help her stop holding her breath. The stranger simply watched, unmoving, and Oliver wasn’t paying them his attention yet.

“Sammy? Take a breath. You’re not hurt, are you?” He pulled her up to a stand, seeing how she immediately snapped out of her frozen state but remained tense and twitchy. It was the kind of reaction he expected– and even an improvement when considering how she had first reacted to James. Sammy shook her head to signify she wasn’t hurt and Oliver sighed with relief, before turning his attention up to the stranger.

He squinted, finding it difficult to tilt his head back so far but doing so anyway in order to make some form of eye contact with the…extremely tall man. As he looked at them he took notice of a few odd features; they weren’t dressed normally for a human, they had horns poking out from their teal hair, there was a pair of red wings folded behind them, and a pointed red tail lay still on the ground. Oliver certainly didn’t understand it, but for now he had something else to say.

“Could you please take a few steps back and crouch down? My cousin is just a bit nervous around larger folk.” He requested politely, ignoring her muttered ‘no im not’ which came right after. A few silent moments passed before the man obliged, stepping back once and crouching down, his intense stare clear even with it obscured by the mask covering the top half of his face. Oliver smiled graciously only to blink at what was said next.

“You are trespassing. Outsiders are not allowed in my forest. Leave or I’ll have to use force.” The winged-man stated simply, leaning down slightly to make his point clearer. Although the somewhat aggressive wording made Oliver somewhat concerned, he was sure that the man could be reasoned with or he wouldn’t have crouched down in the first place. Before he could respond though, Sammy found her edge and stepped forwards in front of him.

“You can’t tell us what to do!” She huffed, glaring as she looked up at the intimidating figure above them both. Although she was trembling and internally screaming at herself for picking a fight that might actually be reciprocated, she held steady in her statement. Oliver face-palmed from behind her.

The stranger’s lips pulled into a frown, and two giant clawed hands suddenly planted on the grass on either side of the two borrowers, causing the ground to shake slightly under his weight. His sharp teeth were bared as he spoke, his tone showing a hint of annoyance.

“I don’t suggest picking a fight with me. You don’t even reach the length of my thumb…” He pointed out, a slight growl in his tone as he moved his hand closer to make his point clear, watching the tiny girl stumble back in surprise at the motion. He placed his hand back down without touching her, simply staring down at the two tiny people that had suddenly appeared in his forest.

Sammy quickly tried to regain her composure after the small scare, gritting her teeth in frustration. She hated being looked down on; having her own fear and insecurities pointed out to her so directly.

“I don’t care how big you are, I will fight you!” She insisted, stepping forward again with a scowl. She crossed her arms, to hide her trembling hands, keeping her feet planted in the soil whilst looking death in the eyes. She knew this was a terrible way to deal with humans— but it was an instinct she developed during her time in the lab, and the habit was hard to break.

The towering stranger seemed to pause for a moment as if taken aback, only to lean in closer with a snarl.

“You—”

“Wait wait wait… Calm down, the both of you.” Oliver suddenly stepped in between them with both of his hands out as if physically keeping them apart, despite the fact that he would not be able to hold off the giant man even if he used all of his strength and more. His expression was serious and his tone was stern, seeing how quickly things were getting out of hand and wanting to stop it before communication became impossible. He sighed, looking at his cousin with a pleading expression. “Please don’t try to fight someone literally 30-or-so times your size.”

Jamai bristled at the sight of the tiny man standing on the grass who seemed unaffected by his intimidation techniques, tail starting to slowly sway behind him with interest. He had never seen people this small before besides his older sister— but even she would be about twice their size. They didn’t look like how he had heard pixies being described either. Regardless though, it felt itchy and uncomfortable when there were unwelcome presences in his forest, and unless they left or he gave them permission to pass through his forest that sensation would only get worse.

He couldn’t give them permission without determining their intentions though…That would be reckless.

Jamai’s deep frown soon faded as the tiny man then met his gaze directly, his serious expression replaced with a polite smile as if he was greeting a friend rather than a dangerous dryad. He leaned back again slightly, so they wouldn’t have to look directly upwards.

“We aren’t sure how we got here. Or where here is exactly… There was a flash of light and then we were in this forest. If you could give us some directions, we’d happily be on our way— it wasn’t our intention to intrude in the first place.” Oliver explained, looking up at the giant stranger and trying to convey his sincerity in his body language. Sammy stayed behind him this time, biting her tongue to avoid saying anything more she might regret; it wasn’t just her who would suffer now after all.

Jamai squinted with suspicion, scrutinising the tiny man’s expression for deception, but finding nothing. He let out a huff from his nostrils, before sitting back a bit more, withdrawing his hands from where they had been placed to rest his chin on instead. The mention of a light brought about a few questions, and he was beginning to have his own theories of what had happened… The two tiny people didn’t smell like locals after all.

“Hmm… I believe you. But you’re much too small to pass through this forest safely. I’ll escort you.” He decided with a small nod of approval to himself. He had to get to the bottom of where they were from after all, so whilst escorting them he could also gather more information. They smelled almost like humans, but they were much too small to qualify, and now his curiosity was piqued.

Sammy groaned slightly, dreading the thought of being escorted around by someone so big and dangerous. Oliver, on the other hand, smiled and offered his hand.

“Then we’ll be in your care. My name is Oliver Oakwood, and this is my cousin Sammy.” He introduced himself, fingers splayed out and ready for a handshake despite the fact that the size difference would make it practically impossible.

“Why would you tell him my name…!” Sammy protested in a hushed tone, her pitch becoming squeaky as she gripped Oliver’s shoulder’s tightly from behind him, still staring up at the giant stranger.

He seemed confused by Oliver’s gesture, and the borrowers could almost hear the gears in his head turning. Eventually he reached forward with his index finger, lightly tapping Oliver’s forearm, his lips thinned into an awkward frown. He didn’t seem to know what a handshake was, and so Oliver lowered his hand again, still smiling.

“And what is your name?” He asked. The giant winged-man seemed to pause again, debating whether to say. After a few moments though he responded.

“I am Jamai.”

[shadowdaddies]

Lidia being Mommy:

Reader is being a brat and maybe there is spanking involved?

I love her so much you don't even know😮‍💨💜

Permission

Lidia Cervos x Reader smut

warnings: smut without plot, oral f!receiving, light bondage, mommy kink

Cheeks flushed as you read the sensual scene before you, the characters in the book you were reading finally acting on their desires after so many chapters of tension. 

You felt the need within yourself, the insatiable desire for release that you had craved since Lidia left for the Depth Charger building in your core. Wetness pooled between your thighs as you rubbed them together, breath coming short as you imagined the pleasure you sought. 

One hand held the book open, the other sliding down your stomach to the apex between your thighs in a desperate attempt to alleviate the arousal building there. 

“Lidia,” you moaned, eyes rolled back as you arched into your own touch. Thumb swiping over your clit, you ran a finger along the slick growing between your folds while you imagined her own hands there. 

Your finger prodded at your entrance, teasing as you dropped the book to writhe against the sheets. Small gasps left your lips, covering the soft sound of your girlfriend’s boots as she walked down the hallway, stopping to watch you from the doorframe. 

Clicking her tongue, Lidia drew your attention towards where she stood, your hand stilling beneath the waistband of your lacy panties. 

“What are you doing, pet?” Lidia purred, stalking towards you with a preternatural grace that sent your heart racing. 

“I...” you paused, blood heating at the sight before you as Lidia discarded her clothes. Arching an eyebrow at you, she flashed an amused smile.

“Yes, pet?” she continued, unfazed at your arousal emanating through the room as she dropped her lingerie, leaving her full breasts heavy and bare before you. Your hand was still awkwardly at the waistband of your own undergarments, your motions frozen as you lay stunned like a deer in the headlights.

“I, I missed you... Mommy,” you mumbled, adding the title in hopes that you would be forgiven for breaking the rules. You were never supposed to touch yourself without Lidia present, directing you how to do it.

Your girlfriend hummed, golden eyes glowing with mischief as she leaned over the edge of the bed, arms straddling your ankles. “I missed you too, pet. But we both know the rules, and what happens when you break the rules. Isn’t that right?” she cooed, overly soft as one hand found your leg, stroking softly up and down the sensitive skin there.

“Please, Lid... Mommy,” you corrected quickly, heart beating fast as wild eyes found her own. She smirked down at you, the prey caught in her snare. 

“It seems you need a reminder of the rules,” Lidia quipped, her casual tone at odds with your tumultuous feelings as she spun one finger, a silent indication for you to turn around over her legs.

You obeyed, hands clutching the sheets beneath as you leaned over her toned thighs, ass in the air while you awaited your punishment. Instead, you felt spit land on your ass, Lidia’s soft hands soothing the skin there, moisturizing the tender flesh as your arousal grew.

Hips ground against her touch, eager for more. “Please, mommy. I’m sorry,” you pleaded, voice a pathetic whine that was drowned out by the wet slapping of flesh. Lidia’s hand hit hard upon your sensitive skin, a lewd moan leaving your lips at the redness that you could feel darkening your ass.

“Count for me, Love,” Lidia cooed, nails raking over your back before continuing her assault. The combination of pain and pleasure was electric, your body cringing and craving more of her, lips mindlessly thanking her for more with each hit.

Lidia finally stopped, hand stilling as her thumb stroked soft patterns on your reddened skin. “I’m not finished with you,” she warned. “Lay down, pet.”

Biting your lip, you scrambled up the bed as you watched Lidia disappear into the other room. She returned with a gleam in her eye and hands full of silk ribbons as she crawled over your exposed frame.

Grabbing your wrists, she pressed a soft kiss to each one before joining them and tying them to the frame. “Since you can’t refrain from touching yourself, I’ll have to help you,” she teased, tilting your chin while she pressed a kiss to your lips.

Hips rolled against the soft sheets, needy for her touch while Lidia turned above you. Her pussy hovered over your face, slick with her own desire that left you pulling against the restraints in need of more. “Please, mommy, please,” you begged tongue reaching out in attempt to taste her.

With a dark laugh, Lidia settled her cunt on your face, wet pussy suffocating your nose as you took the opportunity to suck her clit into your mouth. Tongue flicked out against the bud, sucking hard as you bucked against her hips, nudging your nose into her hole.

“Fuck,” Lidia moaned, head dipping to blow hot air over your core. “Good girl.”

The feeling of Lidia’s tongue on your clit nearly sent you over the edge, the wet muscle massaging you exactly how you had been craving. She pinned your hips down, holding you still to work you how she liked as you desperately worked against her core, licking and sucking whatever she would allow you.

“Good girl, right there,” she moaned from above as you nibbled on her clit, tongue curving and sucking the swollen bud as she tightened above you. 

Moaning your name loudly, Lidia convulsed, slick gushing over your mouth and chin as she came. The feel and scent of her arousal sent you over the edge, her lips puckered around your clit as you hit your orgasm. 

You mumbled incoherently as she cleaned up your folds, working you through your high. 

“How are you feeling?” Lidia asked, voice soft as she turned to make sure you were okay. 

“I’m good, Mommy,” you promised, dizzy with satisfaction as you lay trapped beneath her.

Lidia smirked at you, turning to open the drawer her nightstand to pull out a vibrator, and her strap. “Good, because I’m not done with you,” she murmured, reaching for the vibrator as her warm thighs settled on each side of your head, muffling your moans as her weight settled over you, the only sound in the room the vibrator clicking on as it hovered over your abused clit.

[tigressaofkanjis]

Transformers: Lost World - All 16 Meadow Transformers

See post for information here

Color Schemes: Normal colors will be present and switch between both types regularly with a 50-50 chance of spawning with a Transformer every in-game day with Regal spawns being slightly less odds but very possible to encounter. Rare and Legendary colors can only be unlocked after talking to Shockwave about the rifts plaguing the land once the Universal Nexus is activated. From then on, both wild and outbreaks of Transformers will have a chance of being all four types. 

Color Schemes may seem similar in sequence or by name, but they are different shades, and the order of colors also marks their prominence. (Main Color, Secondary Color, Extra Details, and Extra Details), (Main Color, Secondary Color, and Extra Details), or (Main Color and Secondary/Extra Details). On some occasions, the first color isn’t technically the overall if there’s an even amount of color space in which case all colors will be main or a main and two secondaries. Most color schemes do not include protoform limb colors nor faceplates.

When you befriend a Transformer in the wild, they will not spawn again once you have them at your base. However, after the Universal Nexus is activated, not only do outbreaks occur to get multiple of the same Transformer but cosmic clones baring any color scheme available for that particular Transformer will appear in the wild spawn locations of the original (even if you never befriended the Transformer at all giving you more odds). If you release a Transformer before activating the Universal Nexus, they will spawn back in the wild in their area and allow you to hunt for a different color available in Normal and Regal formats. 

Take note: Universal molds (G1, TFA, TFP, etc) do not spawn in the wild, only through outbreaks. Colors indicated do not always count protoform color. Bio lights vary. 

Patterns: Depending on the Transformer also varies on pattern. From animal-like prints to simplistic car patterns, fades, and cutoffs, you could possibly find a Transformer with a unique color scheme and a beautiful pattern to boot. (Me adding flare to the game because I find it odd a lot of Transformers have Basic patterning. I would think an advanced cybernetic species would invest in some good designs *tattoos* ahem. And it doesn’t cover their whole body usually, just parts of it.) 

Vehicons (Miner) – Can be seen in Basic, Tiger and Saddled Patterns. 

Normal Colors: Charoite (Purple, Black, and Deep Grey with Red Lights), Tuxedo (Black and White with Red Lights) 

Regal Colors: Amethyst (Indigo, Gray, and Silver with Red Lights), Cherry Swirl (Crimson and Magenta with White Lights) 

Rare Colors: Beast (Deep Grey, Red, and Yellow with Yellow Lights; Striped Hyena), Shattered Glass (Sea Blue, Black, and White with Light Blue Lights) 

Legendary Colors: Space Cadet (Dark Blue, Teal, and White with Blue Lights), Golden Sheep (Black and Gold with Yellow Lights) 

2. Autotroopers (Gatherer) - Can be seen in Basic, Leopard and Tobiano Patterns. 

Normal Colors: Monochrome (White, Black, and Grey with Blue Lights), Star Sapphire (Slate Gray and Deep Blue with Blue Lights) 

Regal Colors: Snowflake (Frost White and Baby Blue with Light Blue Lights), White Lotus (White, Green and Mint with Light Green Lights) 

Rare Colors: Beast (Light Gray, Black, and White with Blue Lights; Labrador), Shattered Glass (Deep Grey, White, and Light Purple with Red Lights) 

Legendary Colors: Winterdance (Light Blue, Cerulean, and White with Teal Lights), Cockatiel (Cream, White, and Red with Orange Lights) 

3. Jazz (Scout) – Can be seen in Basic, Narrow Sports Striped and Narrow Racing Striped Patterns. 

Normal Colors: Seaboard (White, Cool Black, and Navy Blue with Blue Lights), Chromite (Silver and Gray with Blue Lights) 

Regal Colors: Magical Betta (White, Blue, and Maroon with Blue Lights), Faded Dusk (Light Gray, Deep Blue and Orange with Orange Lights) 

Rare Colors: Beast (Silver, White and Deep Blue with Blue Lights; Lynx), Shattered Glass (Black, Grey, Gold, and Light Orange with Red Lights) 

Legendary Colors: Molten (Neon Red and Neon Orange with Yellow Lights), Freeway (Silver, Black and Gold with Blue Lights) 

4. Cliffjumper (Miner) - Can be seen in Basic, Saddled and Triangular Patterns. 

Normal Colors: Candy Apple (Crimson and Silver with Blue Lights), Crimson Tide (Crimson, Burgundy, and Dark Red with Blue Lights) 

Regal Colors: Warlord (Silver, Deep Grey, Black, and Crimson with White Lights), Blood Moon (Black and Crimson with Red Lights) 

Rare Colors: Beast (Deep Red, Copper, and Silver; Wildebeest), Shattered Glass (Purple, Black, and Silver) 

Legendary Colors: Plague Crystal (Violet, Purple, and Dark Purple), Roughrider (Yellow, Brown, and Green with Yellow Lights) 

5. Barricade (Infiltrator) - Can be seen in Basic, Checkered and Wide Single Striped Patterns. 

Normal Colors: Tuxedo (Black and White with Red Lights), Star Sapphire (Slate Gray and Deep Blue with Red Lights) 

Regal Colors: Starry Night (Black, Indigo, and Copper with Purple Lights), Moonlit Ocean (Dark Blue, Black and White with Red Lights) 

Rare Colors: Beast (Black, Grey, and Purple with Red Lights; Wolverine), Shattered Glass (White, Black, and Blue with Green Lights) 

Legendary Colors: Interrogator (White, Yellow, and Blue with Blue Lights), Pursuit (Lavender, Black, and Gold with Purple Lights) 

6. Knockout (Healer) - Can be seen in Basic, Tribal and Narrow Racing Striped Patterns. 

Normal Colors: Rose Bouquet (Red, Magenta, and Yellow with Red Lights), Cherry Swirl (Crimson and Magenta with Red Lights) 

Regal Colors: Gothic Luxury (Black, Gold, and Crimson with Red Lights), Medic (Red and White with Red Lights) 

Rare Colors: Beast (Crimson, Cerulean, and Gold with Red Lights; Peacock), Shattered Glass (Blue, White, Black, and Gold with Blue Lights) 

Legendary Colors: Radioactive (Vivid Green, Purple and Pink with Pink Lights), Tango Lily (Tangerine, Burgundy, and Violet with Red Lights) 

7. Moonracer (Infiltrator) - Can be seen in Basic, Triangular and Hexagonal Patterns. 

Normal Colors: Mint Vanilla (Mint, Teal, and Cream with Blue Lights), Grassland (Light Green, Mint, and Amber with Yellow Lights) 

Regal Colors: Variscite Bracelet (Gold, Green, and Mint with Blue Lights), Turquoise (Teal and Mint with Blue Lights) 

Rare Colors: Beast (Cream, Mint, and Gold with Green Lights; Belgian Horse), Shattered Glass (Dark Blue, Black, and Crimson with Red Lights) 

Legendary Colors: Arctic Glow (White, Aqua, and Mint with Teal Lights), Mermaid (Light Purple, Cream, and Teal with Light Purple Lights) 

8. Hot Rod (Miner) - Can be seen in Basic, Flames and Chevron Patterns. 

Normal Colors: Firestarter (Burgundy, Orange, and Yellow with Blue Lights), Sunset (Red, Gold, and Orange with Blue Lights) 

Regal Colors: Obsidian Sun (Black, Orange, and Deep Copper with Orange Lights), Tiger’s Eye (Orange, Black, and Crimson with Blue Lights) 

Rare Colors: Beast (Yellow, Red, and Gold with Orange Lights; Lion), Shattered Glass (Black, Silver, and Purple with Red Lights) 

Legendary Colors: Blue Ghost (Blue, Teal, and Light Orange with Orange Lights), Fusion Flame (Black, Crimson, and Gold with Red Lights) 

9. Tailgate (Miner) - Can be seen in Basic, Tobiano and Hexagonal Patterns 

Normal Colors: Waves (White and Cerulean with Blue Lights), Energon (White, Blue, and Teal with Blue Lights) 

Regal Colors: Glass Marbles (White, Red, Blue, and Black with Blue Lights), Blue Sky (Cerulean, Baby Blue, and White with Yellow Lights) 

Rare Colors: Beast (Blue, White, and Dark Blue with Blue Lights; Adelie Penguin), Shattered Glass (Gold, Deep Blue, and White with Red Lights) 

Legendary Colors: Flare Cap (Light Yellow, Light Red, and Black with Blue Lights), Akebi Fruit (Lavender and White with Light Blue Lights) 

10. Sideswipe (Scout) - Can be seen in Basix, Saddled and Mackerel Patterns 

Normal Colors: Harlequin (Red, Black, and White with Blue Lights), Chromite (Silver and Gray with Blue Lights) 

Regal Colors: Smelting Rock (Amber, Black, and Grey with Orange Lights), Sumi-e (White, Black, and Red with Blue Lights) 

Rare Colors: Beast (Crimson, Amber, Black, and Yellow with Red Lights; King Cobra), Shattered Glass (Teal, Deep Grey, and Silver with Red Lights) 

Legendary Colors: Sunrise (Yellow, Cerulean, and Tangerine with Blue Lights), Desert Storm (Tan, Windsor Tan, and Cream with Yellow Lights) 

11. Sunstreaker (Gatherer) - Can be seen in Basic, Saddled and Wide Double Striped Patterns 

Normal Colors: Yellow Jacket (Yellow and Black with Blue Lights), Coreopsis (Yellow, Deep Gray, and Red) 

Regal Colors: Aspen Forest (Grey, Dark Grey, White, and Yellow with Yellow Lights), Sand (Gold and Tan with Blue Lights) 

Rare Colors: Beast (Gold, Yellow, Black, and Grey with Blue Lights; Goanna), Shattered Glass (Black, Burgundy, and Gold with Red Lights) 

Legendary Colors: Prototype (White, Black, and Burgundy with Red Lights), Machination (Yellow, Cerulean, and Pink with Red Lights) 

12. Heatwave (Healer) - Can be found with Basic, Narrow Double Striped and Cheetah Patterns 

Normal Colors: Fire Hydrant (Red, Yellow, and Grey with Blue Lights), Harlequin (Red, Black, and White with Blue Lights) 

Regal Colors: Cinnabar Dolomite (White, Maroon, and Deep Grey with Blue Lights), Auburn Anthem (Crimson and Copper with Blue Lights) 

Rare Colors: Beast (White, Red, Black, and Yellow with Yellow Lights; Dalmatian), Shattered Glass (Black, Dark Blue, Red, and White with Red Lights) 

Legendary Colors: Firebot (Neon Yellow, Crimson, and White with Blue Lights), Reverse Deployer (Indigo, Tangerine, and Dark Slate with Red Lights) 

13. Chase (Gatherer) - Can be found in Basic, Chevron and Tobiano Patterns 

Normal Colors: Mosaic (Dark Blue, White, and Yellow with Blue Lights), Seaboard (White, Cool Black, and Navy Blue with Light Blue Lights) 

Regal Colors: Blue Sky (Cerulean, Baby Blue, and White with Blue Lights), Prime Sherbert (Red, Blue, and Yellow with Orange Lights) 

Rare Colors: Beast (Navy Blue, Baby Blue and White with Yellow Lights; Kangaroo), Shattered Glass (Camo Green, Green, and Silver with Red Lights) 

Legendary Colors: Electronic (Black, White, and Yellow with Blue Lights), Rescue Dino (Navy Blue, Light Teal, and Silver with Blue Lights) 

14. Bumblebee (Scout) - Can be found in Basic, Wide Single Striped and Narrow Double Striped Patterns 

Normal Colors: Yellow Jacket (Yellow and Black with Blue Lights), Black Swan (Black, Deep Grey, and Gold with Dark Blue Lights) 

Regal Colors: Oriole (Orange, Amber, and Black with Blue Lights), Super Seven (Gold, Purple, and Maroon with Purple Lights) 

Rare Colors: Beast (Gold, Black, and Baby Blue with Blue Lights; Honeybee), Shattered Glass (Silver and Purple with Red Lights) 

Legendary Colors: Terrorcon (Black, Purple, Mint, and Slate with Purple Lights), Sonic Blue (Baby Blue, Dark Blue, and Silver with White Lights) 

15. Perceptor (Infiltrator) - Can be found in Basic, Hexagonal and Saddled Patterns 

Normal Colors: Harlequin (Red, Black, and White with Blue Lights), Ruby Glass (Red, Light Teal, and Black with Blue Lights) 

Regal Colors: Ornament (Red, Silver, and Gold with Blue Lights), Wildfire (Amber, Red, and Dark Grey with Yellow Lights) 

Rare Colors: Beast (Light Gray, Red, and Black with Blue Lights; Red-Tailed Hawk), Shattered Glass (Black and Red with Red Lights) 

Legendary Colors: Retro Style (Mute Blue, Red, and White with White Lights), Minicon (Blue, Orange, Baby Blue and Yellow with Blue Lights) 

16. Shockwave (Infiltrator) - Can be found in Basic, Chevron, and Ocelot Patterns 

Normal Colors: Charoite (Purple, Black, and Deep Grey with Red Lights), Purple Dawn (Purple, Lavender, and Grey with Yellow Lights) 

Regal Colors: Masquerade (Vivid Purple, Neon Green, and Dark Grey with Yellow Lights), Ominous (Teal, Black, and Silver with Red Lights) 

Rare Colors: Beast (Purple, Black, and Pink with Pink Lights; Spinosaurus), Shattered Glass (Gold, Silver, Blue, and Yellow with Blue Lights) 

Legendary Colors: Senator (White, Teal, and Green with Blue Lights), Origin (Cerulean, Crimson, and White with Blue Lights) 

It took me a week to plan the Normal and Regal color schemes for all 200 Transformers. Since both categories can have repetitive colors, I had to carefully place same colors in Normal (Canon) slots that matched the description of the Transformer and use them for Regal (Non-Canon/Extra Color Schemes) that seemed to work for the others. You have no idea how painful it was to do. Now that the hard part is over, it's just going through the list for Rare (Beast and Shattered Glass) and Legendary (Rare Toys/Exclusives) colors which shouldn't take long for me to do though scrolling through all the toy lines for unique color schemes is draining.

Please note Legendary skins are chosen by how rare or how meaningful the color is to the character. Some characters have multiple good toys with unique color schemes but I can't always put every one of them, so I have to choose what appears to be the best. I scroll through all character pages of every universe and choose my contenders mind you, so it can get very hard on what is chosen in the end.

Color Schemes are also simplified to ensure cleaner display. Notice how colors can be a bit vague. It's sometimes very had to pinpoint specific colors so the top few most prominent on the character are noted, especially for Legendary skins where I go for uniqueness and individuality compared to the Normal and Regal skins.

[contreparry]

happy Friday! sending you “I’m not going to like what you’re about to tell me…. am I?” 👀

After a bit of a break, here’s some more Zevran/Warden modern!AU for @dadrunkwriting !

When Zevran texted him at two in the morning insisting it was an emergency, Bran was halfway out the door before he was fully awake. At least he had the good sense to put on his shoes and hook a leash to Barkspawn’s collar before he left, but he didn’t put on a jacket. So he walked eleven or so blocks in the cold Amaranthine night in short-sleeves and sweatpants. At least Barkspawn was happy. He seemed to know where they were headed, even if it was an odd time to visit Zevran.

But when had he and Zevran ever done anything normally?

But that phone call... Bran wrapped Barkspawn’s leash tightly around his hand as he rounded the corner towards Zevran’s apartment. His classy, elegant, extremely expensive apartment. And five stories up was Zevran, who was awake and had something urgent to tell him, something that couldn’t wait for their next date or the next morning. Fuck, it couldn’t even wait for the sun to rise! Yet when Bran thought of Zevran’s voice, the way it trembled when he asked if Bran was able to come by and talk- just talk, please- Bran found that he couldn’t refuse him. He could never refuse him.

“Creators give me strength,” Bran breathed. “C’mon, Barkspawn, time to meet your second favorite man.” The first being Alistair, of course, but that was a given. He buzzed in and took the elevator up, walking down the elegant wallpapered hallway. The pale tile floors squeaked underneath his boots, heralding his arrival. When he lifted his fist to the doorway it swung inward.

Zevran stood on the other side, wearing a bathrobe, his usually perfectly combed blond hair a tangled mess hanging around his face and shoulders. There were dark circles under his golden brown eyes, and even as Barkspawn barged in and romped around the dining room Zevran could only muster a small, sad smile.

“Bran,” he murmured. “Please, come in.”

Bran cautiously entered Zevran’s apartment. He’d been there before, stayed the night once, even, but Zevran seemed to prefer Bran’s shoebox of a loft. Bran glanced around- Zevran’s apartment didn’t feel lived in at all, now that he thought about it. He was usually... distracted... when he came here. yet there were no pictures, no knick-knacks, not even a pile of mail on the dining room table. Zevran gestured over towards the living room and the couch. His expression was guarded, careful, and combined with his utterly wrecked appearance (tired, so tired, Zevran never looked tired before), Bran’s heart raced and he blurted out the first words that came to his mind.

“I’m not going to like what you’re about to tell me... am I?” He asked. Zevran paused, his eyes wide, his lips slightly parted. Shocked. And then that small smile. That small bitter smile that was pure Zevran, Zevran stripped of his false flattery and lies and was perfectly honest. Bran liked honest Zevran best: unpolished, rough Zevran who would share his unvarnished thoughts.

“No. You’re not,” he said. “But it’s a conversation we should have regardless.”

He didn’t touch Bran when they sat on the couch. He kept his distance, even as Barkspawn hopped onto the white linen couch and rolled around on the cushions, begging for pets. Bran relented, but his mind was racing as he waited for Zevran to speak. What was he going to reveal? What sort of terrible thing had so upset Zevran that he couldn’t wait?

He was leaving. They were breaking up. He had a mystery illness and only had months to live. He was secretly an Antivan prince and couldn’t bear to keep his secret one second longer-

No, the last one was the plot of a teen rom-com, that definitely wasn’t it. Bran focused on Zevran’s profile as Zevran looked at the skyline, his eyes fixed on the distant boats in the harbor. He traced the curve of Zevran’s nose, his mouth, as if he could uncover Zevran’s secrets through sight alone. It was all here, Bran thought, right under his nose. Somewhere between Zevran’s posh but cold apartment to his fine wardrobe to his ability to blend into any crowd, fit into every group-

It was all here. Bran just had to put the pieces together.

“... you were right to be suspicious of me,” Zevran finally said. “You never trusted me, did you, Bran?” Zevran’s smile was a bitter thing, a grimace with no softness to it, no joy. Bran wanted to- he wanted to grab a hold of Zevran by the shoulders, wanted to take his face in his hands, wanted to kiss him until he shut up and stopped talking- but he didn’t. If he did, they’d both keep running from whatever Zevran was hiding, and they couldn’t move forward like this.

“… it wasn’t about you, you know,” Bran replied. “I don’t trust people in general. But…” Bran paused. He was never good with words. Never had a gift for it. But he needed them now- by the Creators he needed them now!

“… I’ve known you’ve been keeping secrets from me from the beginning. I can guess why,” Bran added. It didn’t matter, though, because he knew that Zevran kept things from him. He knew Zevran did something related to… well… Leliana told him to watch for Crows, and no one invoked the Crows casually. Whatever Zevran did, it was related to that ancient Antivan organization and tradition. Bran had hoped, perhaps vainly, that Zevran was a retired agent, or perhaps he was merely an informant. But common sense dictated otherwise: Zevran was entirely too charming and knowledgeable and- and skilled- to play only a bit part.

“Bran,” Zevran sighed. “I… when I first approached you, it was not for innocent reasons.” He looked apologetic, truly sorry, as if he too found this conversation painful. But could Bran trust that? Could he trust Zevran at all?

Anyone and their blind great-grandfather could have seen Zevran’s confession coming, but the admission still stung Bran’s ego. He had no reason to believe that Zevran would have found him enticing, interesting enough to approach out of nowhere- sullen, studious, scrawny Bran Surana only attracted bad attention, teachers who thought the worst of him and trouble from those who thought he was an easy mark. But Zevran- so he was suspicious at first, certain the man’s fawning was an act, but once he broke through the fake exterior and found something sincere, something real-

Well, that was when Bran thought he found the real Zevran? But what if all of that was fake as well, and there was nothing of Zevran Arainai that was real? Bran bit his bottom lip until it hurt, the dry skin cracking under the pressure.

“No, no, none of tha-“ Zevran reached out, as if he wanted to cup Bran’s face and soothe away the hurt, but he stopped himself at the last moment and let his hand hover in the air between them. “I… I’m sorry. For this.”

“Say what you need to say. Get it over with,” Bran muttered. No tears. He wasn’t going to cry, he was going to endure this humiliation, he would gather Barkspawn and leave with his broken heart and tattered pride, and he’d find Leliana and she would help him make sure that Zevran wished he was dead.

“I’m a Crow,” Zevran admitted as he drove that dagger just a little bit deeper because he looked like he was going to cry as well. “And I was hired to steal your research.”

“… at least you’re interested in me for my mind,” Bran mumbled, feeling utterly wretched.

“My interest in you is not limited to your intelligence or research, Bran Surana,” Zevran replied softly, his laugh hoarse and quiet, his expression barely visible in the half-light. “If it was, I would have left with my quarry months ago.”

“So… now what?” Bran didn’t know where to go from here. He knew, he always knew, that Zevran kept secrets, just as he knew that it was strange that someone as handsome and charming and alluring would even spare him a glance, never mind pursue him with the single-minded intensity Zevran displayed. Bran always knew they were odd, a strange couple no matter how you looked at them, but now he confirmed it. Now he knew that he was, at least at first, simply a job. So now what?

Get Barkspawn. Walk home. Stop by the convenience store and buy ice cream. Call Leliana. Let himself cry in his bed- no, that smelled of Zevran’s expensive cologne and shampoo, no, he’d just go to Leliana’s place instead, call his advisor tomorrow to discuss the security breach- did Zevran ever see his work? Bran never brought anything to his apartment, too paranoid about the lack of security and the long trip to ever bring his work home. But Bran had his textbooks there, and he was always scribbling some formula or idle thought on scraps and in journals- Zevran could have taken anything from his notes and be done with the job, now that Bran thought of it. It wasn’t anything deeply profound, but his research was all there if you knew where to look and what it meant. And Zevran knew enough of alchemy to know what Bran wrote… so why was he still in Amaranthine? Why didn’t he disappear? Why all this mess? If Zevran got what he wanted, he could have disappeared and let Bran suffer without having to witness it. He wouldn’t- he could have- but he didn’t. He didn’t.

That had to count for something, right?

“Are you leaving Amaranthine?” Bran asked.

“What?”

“Are. You. Leaving. Amaranthine?” Bran repeated himself, and Zevran’s expression shifted from miserable to confused, his amber brown eyes wide as they stared at him.

“Not for another month at least,” Zevran replied. “But, Bran-“

“Good. That gives us time,” Bran decided. He would untangle the mess that was his feelings and mend his broken heart later. For now… Bran glanced back at Zevran, who was still as perfectly lovely and strange as he always was, and tried to harden his heart.

He and Zevran would figure this mess out later. Until then, Bran would protect his work and his name from whoever wanted to steal from him.

[buzzmaxsports]

Euro 2024: Who’s Leading the Golden Boot Race?

The race for the Golden Boot at Euro 2024 is heating up as the goals start to come in. Unlike in 2012 where three goals were enough to win the Golden Boot, 2020 saw Cristiano Ronaldo needing five goals to claim the top scorer title. More fixtures naturally lead to more goals. The odds for the Golden Boot include some of the best players from across Europe – but who are the contenders so far? ###…

[saithehuman]

⟡; 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙵𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚋𝚎𝚍 | ch.1

Undertale has finished installing. ──────── •✧• ────────

Long ago, two races ruled over Earth: HUMANS and MONSTERS. 

Sai's eyes jolted open, numerous beads of transparent sweat dripping down her brown, ruffled hair, before swimming it's way down to her light, peach head - the sigh accompanied with the noise of heavy, shaky and panicked panting. Her salmon colored orbs traversed the golden-yellow and purple room swiftly, as to find out where she was. 'Golden buttercups and tall purple pillars,' she said to herself, softly. There was a kid laying upon the stashes of golden flowers, their appearance holding the identity of a non-binary child with a brown-haired bob, as well as a blue onesie with purple stripes to accompany it. They also had brown boots, similar to the ones Sai herself was wearing, however, hers were painted black in comparison to the brown boots in view. However, her attention got directed to the transpicuous, relatively-similar looking child: in the obvious distinctions, she had noticed the transpicuous figure had a green sweater in comparison to the onesie. It, as well, had a differently placed stripe going across it, a yellow colored one to go along with the green. They also wore brown shorts, and some worn out brown shoes that Sai couldn't exactly distinguish. To add onto it, they also had pink blush on their cheeks and.. well, actually open eyes. There was a loud, blaring ringing in her ears, caused by a odd melody coming from.. nowhere in particular? It sounded like it came from a video game of sorts, being rather pixelated and quite loud.

One day, war broke out between the two races.

Her vision was still rather blurry, however, being enough to differentiate the figures standing before her, as well as being able to tell where she was placed, she could manage sufficiently enough. She placed her hand down on the flowers she was standing on, (though covered in a oversized black sleeve that she hadn't recognized or remembered putting on), and stood up. Her balance was wobbly, but she steadied her balance with a nearby pillar. She rubbed her eyes to try and extract the blurriness forming in them, before she stared back at the shorter child with the green shirt, who was obviously waiting for the sleeping figure to wake up. They seemed just as confused as Sai was, despite being transparent as if they were a ghost. Sai opened her mouth to speak, but wasn't fully adjusted yet - leaving her mouth wide open, she tried to muster up the words to speak to the child. It took her a moment or so, but she had handled it, and spoke. "Who are you?", she said in a soft, timid, and low voice. Her memories were still rather jumbled, and she hadn't really known who she was at all, but she had recognized the two for some odd reason.

After a long battle, the humans were victorious.

Sai awaited a response, yet, nothing. The child-like figure continued to wait for the taller character to wake up and arise from the flowerbed. Sai tilted her head - she had at least expected a shrug, or even just a tiny glance back at her, but yet, it seemed as if she was invisible. She spoke once more. "Uh.. hello? Can you not hear me? Who are you?". No response. At this point, Sai was getting agitated. She had already been in quite of a sour mood, being unable to recollect any already-existing memories due to them being in such a blur. The loud, blaring music exploring the insides of her ears didn't help, neither. "Can you not hear me!?" She said, her timid and previously quiet voice had quickly gained a tone of forcefulness, the volume rising quickly. Yet, still no response. Sai walked over to the standing and irritating figure, before intertwining her index finger and thumb together, placing pressure and then... Flick! She flicked the figure, however, it went right through them. She quickly bounced back, her hair and white scarf (which she hadn't even noticed she was wearing) recoiling along with her movement. "What the heck?" She said, her voice lowering once more.

The sealed the monsters underground with a magic spell.

Perhaps it was a trick of the mind. Or, much less, she had just attempted to touch a spirit. It would make sense, considering they ARE quite transparent - blending in with the surroundings in front of them. However, even if that WAS the case, wouldn't their conversation be heard? From her, although, blurry memory, ghosts can still hear and see the people in-front of them, correct? However, Sai couldn't trust her thoughts too greatly. She barely even remembered if she had a brother or sister, let alone ever existed in the first place. She looked down at the figure covered in buttercups, before leaning down to them. "Hey, wake up." She said, softly. The figure was in too much of a deep sleep to respond. She tilted her head lightly, a bit lost on what to do, before she attempts to shake them gently. Once more, her hand goes right through them.

Many years later...

"..What..?" Sai said, her tone of voice quickly becoming that of terror. Her legs, which were bending down to try and awaken the sleeping and or passed out child, quickly stood up as she backed away a bit. She stared at her hands, which were slightly dusty from some areas of the pillar that were left untouched. She wasn't a ghost, right? No. That was off the table. If she was a undead spirit, the other child would've noticed her by now and her body wouldn't have been non see-through. Her body seemed perfectly fine, albeit though she didn't recognize it. She stared back at the human that had some solid color and a physical body. What.. was happening? She remembered having a physical body. One that DIDN'T go through the objects she was attempting to make contact with...

MT. Ebott 201X

It suddenly struck her. Her head started aching, much far worse then when when the ringing in her ears almost destroyed her ear-drums into little tiny pieces. Memories. Memories that she didn't recognize as her own, let alone making them in the first place. They were jumbled together, obviously taking place in different times, in different bodies. 'Falling down a hole in a mountain', she recalled, looking up at the giant whole where the shimmer of sunlight was shining through. 'I met a monster. A goat monster. SOMEONE met a goat monster. I don't recognize them.'  She said, looking around at her previously explored surroundings. That's why she recognized it. 'I- no, they ate something, and that was the cause of their death.. right?'  She remembered a few more memories. 'And.. another one. I fell down the mountain again.. I was in a onesi-...'  It struck her, who she got the memories from, if not herself.

Legends say that those who climb the mountain never return.

Name the fallen human. □□□□□□ Done Is this name correct? Yes ...

She had the memories of the children sitting atop her. Chara and Frisk. So... if she didn't have the memories of herself, but the memories of the two separate entities standing right before her, then... who was she? Her near edge to an identity crisis was quickly interrupted by the rustling of the flowers. Frisk had woken up. You'd expect them to have some sort of expression after being passed out for so long, but, I suppose they decided otherwise. They didn't even open up their eyes. It kind of freaked Sai out for a moment. Frisk started walking forward, and Chara began to follow them - floating. Well.. that proves Sai's theory, at least. Wait, they were moving forward without her? "Hey, hey, hey! Wait up!" She quickly caught her balance and straightened out her thoughts, before running ahead and following them.

──────── •✧• ────────

1307 words.

[clonewarslover55]

PREY WAS FUCKING AMAZING!!!! THE BUILD UP! THE STUNTS! THE TENSION! THE DOG! Naru is so smart I love her. Any theories about the pistol? It is the same that the predator gave to Danny in the second movie (making the comic about it not canon anymore) I think the predator was already blooded but if he is from another tribe maybe he wasn't. He was young that's for sure.

IT WAS FANTASTIC!

ahh that pistol. I knew the moment I saw it that it was the same pistol that Greyback gave Danny in Predator two! (I'm sad the pirate comic isn't canon, I always liked it. Predator and pirate fighting back to back was cool!)

But how it goes is that Greyback got the pistol from Adolini personally when he dies in 1718. But in Prey(1719) Adolini is clearly still kicking and a translator! When he dies in the movie he gives the pistol to Naru, who has obviously never seen a Yautja till recently therefore has no connections with our legendary Greyback.

I really have nooo idea what it means, unless they're gonna mess with canon some?? How does Greyback get the pistol if Naru has it?? I have no idea lol

Does Greyback, a Yautja from a completely different clan(He's the clan leader too btw) and race then Feral(The predator from prey) Kill Naru and take it in the future?? Does she get involved with the Yautja in the future in a friendly way and gift it to the legend that is Greyback??? I have no idea! He did seem like a pretty diplomatic guy.....

The new predator(Feral is what I call him) Is clearly young and not part of any of the OG clans(Greyback’s for example) He is obviously fresh from the clan ship, with not a lot of trophies and arrogance to boot. If you look at any Elder or Elite Yautja you see that they are DECKED OUT in trophies and random little trinkets. Even our baby boys from the first AVP have trophies!! So does this mean Feral was even younger than the three brothers from AVP?? I have no idea, I’m just thinking of even more theories and making my brain hurt. 

Maybe we'll see more of our beautiful Naru and Greyback??? Maybe we'll get a comic or perhaps a movie?? OR we'll just live in mystery forever.

There is already a fuckton of mystery surrounding Greyback, who is sometimes referred to as Golden Angel. He has some odd trophies, like the pistol, a set of dog tags and a United States 2nd infantry Division patch.(its on his wrist if I recall correctly) So he is a mysterious clan leader and Elder, I would love to see more of him and learn more about him.

So my theory about the pistol?? I have no fucking idea....If anyone has any ideas please add them to this post!

[roanniom]

The Night That Follows

Poe Dameron x Reader

Word Count: 8,000~ 

Summary: While celebrating a successful mission, you and Poe accidently ingest a mysterious beverage that makes it hard to resist one another, helping you forget the stress that weighs you down and the friendship that you’ve been holding between you two as a shield. 

Note: This is my first ever non-ADCU fic and it is dedicated to the ever lovely and supportive @paper-n-ashes who urged me to get out of my comfort zone and cheered me on.  

Warnings: NSFW, dirty talk, alcohol consumption, sex pollen, drugged drink (it’s drugged with the sex pollen by a 3rd party and not with malicious intent but it still might be triggering), masturbation (f/m), PIV sex, unprotected sex, war-related angst 

When people talk about war, they often discuss the paralyzing fear, the numbing depression. Hopelessness that spreads through your veins like cold water as you face immeasurable odds and stare death in the face day after day. And you can attest to these feelings. You experience them with each dawn that breaks, muddy in the sky regardless of the atmosphere shrouding whatever planet you find yourself waking on each morning. Your life is transient, full of ships and bases and camps. The constants are the clothes on your back, the friends in your squadron (those who survive), and the x-wing you hop in each time danger calls.

The other constant is the part of war that people do not discuss. The rush of adrenaline every time you make it out of a tough scrape. Adrenaline that burns your veins, evaporating the icy hopelessness that had flooded you up until the minute your boots hit turf and your jellied knees catch up to the reality that you are still very much alive. The euphoria that crackles in your brain when you spy your best mate zooming down from above, finally landing and throwing themselves into your arms in the hug you never thought you’d experience again after their coms had gone down in a fire fight. The absolute debauchery of a night of celebration after such a fire fight. Because nobody needs to live quite as much as those who may die.

Which is how you find yourself here, on this non-descript jungle planet, the name of which you didn’t catch during your descent because honestly there have been so many jungle planets and they have all become little more than coordinates on a screen to you at this point. You and your squad have been set up with a mini-festival by the resistance-sympathizing locals as a thank you for your recent decimation of their First Order oppressors. The operation had been pretty seamless, thanks in no small part to the excellent teamwork between you and a one Poe Dameron.

Your flying today had rivaled some of his best, which is certainly saying something since Poe prides himself on being the best pilot in the resistance. You certainly gave him a run for his money, outflying TIE fighters and swiveling shuttle cannons in a perfectly choreographed tandem maneuver wherein the two of you manipulated your assailants to ultimately destroy themselves.

As you knock back a burning shot of the local alcoholic beverage, the liquid tingling and warming you all the way down, you search the triumphant crowd for the cocky pilot who had helped you set the stage for this celebration. You wouldn’t dwell on the earlier events of the day much more tonight. Wouldn’t think much of the comrades you’d lost in the struggle. That was an ache that would throb back to life tomorrow. Tonight, the priority is living.

It is then that you lock eyes with Poe Dameron through the throngs of semi-drunken revelers. His handsome face splits into a wide, cocky grin, so you adopt an exasperated smirk in response as he pushes his way towards you. Such is the game you play. A dance, if you will. Poe plays the role of the self-assured, overly confident golden boy while you, his long suffering partner, humble him with your good-natured criticism and ever rolling eyes.

“Alright there, Sweets?” Poe practically drawls as he reaches you, the nickname both a term of endearment and a teasing reference to the sweet tooth that keeps you hoarding candies of all kinds in your bunk, much to Poe’s own benefit. You beam up at him and upend your little glass to demonstrate its emptiness.

“On my way there, Fly Boy.”

“Looks like you’re falling behind, rookie. Like you did on that triple barrel twist today.”

You throw a punch that lands a little too lightly on his shoulder to produce the grunt and showy flail that he graces you with.

“First of all, you’re not allowed to call me rookie anymore. Your dumb ass might need to be constantly reassured that you’re ‘best pilot in the resistance,’ but by now I am, at worst, second best.” Your gut warms and you’re not sure if it’s the drink or Poe’s deep, full-bodied laugh in response. “And second of all, we don’t talk about the day if we make it to the night.”

Poe almost seems to sober at your words, a phrase of his tossed back at him. The smile remains, though, and he tosses an arm around you before dragging you over to the table that’s been set up with refreshments.

“Right you are, Sweets,” Poe agrees quietly. Louder now and injecting you two into the crowd surrounding the cluster of bottles, he continues, “as for you being second best pilot, I’d rather let the squad decide before you go getting a head too big to fit in your helmet.”

This receives a laugh from the crowd as well as another smattering of slaps thrown towards Poe’s chest.

“Dameron, we all know you already have your own helmet custom made so you can stuff that massive ego in there,” your friend Myrna.

“And those curls,” you add, reaching up and ruffling your hand through his hair in that way that always makes his nose scrunch up in mock anger.

“If you must know, there’s something else they also have to custom make me…” Poe says, grabbing your wrist and forcing your hand to slide down his chest towards the bottom of his flight suit zipper and wiggling his eyebrows. You shriek and yank your hand away.

“In your dreams, Dameron.” Poe leans down toward you so that his face is close enough for you to feel his breath fan across your cheeks.

“Or perhaps in yours?”

Suddenly a small, wrinkled face appears between you. It’s an elderly female member of the local alien race and she’s beaming up at you, holding two steaming mugs and smiling around a garbled statement in a language you don’t recognize.

“Oh I’m sorry, I’m not sure I…” you interrupt her, glancing awkwardly between her massive eyes and Poe’s confused ones.

“I might be able to translate!” Myrna cries out, stumbling forward with a newly refilled glass in her hand.

“You sure that’s not just the liquor talking?” Poe asks with a chuckle. Myrna waves him off and kneels unsteadily to listen to the old woman. More garbled speech issues forward as the woman gestures between you and Poe with her mugs. Myrna nods several times and gives little hums of agreement and affirmation. You and Poe trade glances of amusement during the interaction, but you have to look away when the upturned corner of Poe’s mouth begins to distract you.

“Alright alright,” Myrna pipes up. You turn back in time to see Myrna standing back up to her full height, now holding the two mugs, while the woman waddles back into the crowd.

“What’s the deal?” Poe asks, slinging his arm back around your shoulders. You resist the knee jerk actions that come to mind, both to slap his touch away and to lean into it, standing rigid instead.

“She said these are for you,” Myrna says, pushing the steaming mugs into your hands and Poe’s.

“Did she say why?” You peer at the milky, opalescent contents curiously. Myrna has already moved on, however, turning back to the pilot she’d been hanging on before you and Poe had approached. You look to Poe but he shrugs.

“I don’t know, something about you guys deserving it.” Myrna waves her hand dismissively, obviously ready to get back to her own evening. You look up at Poe, unsure, but he’s nodding and smiling.

“Hear that, Sweets? Seems like word travels fast that we’re the top two pilots,” Poe says cheekily, clinking his mug to yours before throwing back his head and downing its contents in one gulp. Your insides ignite at his acknowledgment, as well as the bob of his adam’s apple, but your eyes still flit warily to your beverage.

“We don’t even know what it is and you’re drinking it?”

“Honey, I’m pretty sure that liquor we were taking shots of earlier was actually jet fuel, I don’t think we need to be too worried about this.” Poe smacks his lips and runs his finger around the inside of the mug. “And besides, it’s really kriffing good.”

Watching the way his cheeks hollow out as he sucks the last dregs of his drink from his finger makes a heat boil in the pit of the stomach. You decide you actually are quite thirsty, and since your curiosity is stronger than your apprehension, you knock the liquid back yourself.

“Atta girl!” Poe cheers you on, nudging you. The drink is sweet and thick on your tongue like a melted version of the ice cream you’d tasted once, many years ago. You can still remember the creamy texture, very much worth the credits paid to the traveling vendor who’d brought it to your village during the hottest summer of your childhood. As you swallow this liquid down, however, its cold temperature changes into a burn, similar to alcohol, though smoother than any liquor you’d ever had.

“Good, right?” Poe asks, eyebrows raised. You nod and lick your lips, sure that you’re imagining things when Poe’s eyes flicker down to your darting tongue.

“That was actually pretty good,” you concede with a grin.

“So what have we learned tonight?” Poe prompts, grabbing your mug from your hands and placing it next to his on a nearby table. You shake your head.

“Your cockiness extends to believing locals on a miniscule planet find you special?”

“The correct answer was ‘always give things a chance,’ Sweets, but you can continue being closeminded if you want,” Poe responds with a chuckle. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and makes to walk away.

“Fine!” You reach out and grab his arm before he can leave. When he rounds back on you with a wide smile you roll your eyes and refuse eye contact. “And just so you know, I’m a lot more open minded than you think, Dameron.”

“Is that so, rookie?” You bristle but as the glee raises in his eyes at your reaction you do your best to tamp it down.

“I’m…flexible,” you say, your grin begrudging. A hubbub breaks out beyond you in the crowd as the makeshift band that had assembled to play party music transitions to a particularly festive song, causing both you and Poe to watch as people begin forming an impromptu dance floor. When Poe turns back at you and raises his eyebrows, expectant, you throw up your hands defensively.

“No. Don’t look at me like that, Fly Boy,” you’re quick to say, but Poe’s even quicker, having already grabbed you by the hand and pulled you to him. Your body collides with his and his other hand finds the dip of your waist.

“Oh I’m sorry, what was that I just heard someone say about being open minded?” Poe asks. In a sudden fluid motion he dips you, bending you over so that your back is parallel to the ground and his face hovers over yours. “Being flexible?”

You let him pull you back up and steady yourself with a hand on his chest to catch your balance, dizzy now, most likely from the suddenness of the motion. You’re about to toss back a witty retort, possibly something that will knock him down a few pegs, but then you catch the glint in his eye and a smile spreads across your lips unbidden.

“You get one dance, Dameron.”

~*~

One dance turned into many, as it turns out. The band, upon realizing their audience’s appetite for raucous music, had begun a steady rotation of upbeat tunes. The dance floor had expanded, spilling out of its original confines in the center of the town square and into the concession areas on the perimeter. Resistance members danced and drank, their bodies jumping and moving to the beat in one chaotic mass of excess energy and euphoria. Bodies writhe against one another in all directions as people seek out friction that can confirm to them that they did indeed survive the day’s trials.

You’re experiencing friction of your own in your little portion of the dance floor. Where things had started out innocently – energetic bouncing to the beat and moving in unison – the tone had long changed. At this point Poe is behind you, arms slung dangerously low on your hips to hold you against him, hands pressed right above your pelvis. The feeling of his chest pressing against your back, his hips bracketing your ass – you’ve lost yourself in the sensations. The rhythm of the music shakes through your muscles but instead of tense and tired, they’re loose and buzzing.

Though truth be told, they aren’t the only thing buzzing. The proximity of Poe’s hands to your lower body feels charged like a magnet. Without thinking you press your hands over the backs of his, encouraging pressure on your lower abdomen. You swear you hear Poe growl behind you has his hands pull you further to him, but it could also be the roar of the crowd. Your hips move in sync, your ass grinding against him in time with the music. Escapism in its purest form is what you’re experiencing in Poe’s arms, held against Poe’s body, matching Poe’s motions. It’s heady and distracting and everything you could ask for to make living feel like living, especially in the aftermath of a day centered on death. You’re content to let this moment last as long as the universe allows.

That is until you realize that the increasing beat you’d thought was a shift in the music is actually the rapid crescendo of your own heartbeat.

Swallowing you find your throat is thick, saliva pooling in your mouth inexplicably. You take a deep breath and allow your mind to reel. How long had you been feeling like this? Why hadn’t you noticed these feelings coming on?

One of the large hands at your hip begins sliding up along the plane of your side and you get your answer. The weight of his touch lights your skin on fire as it drags up and across your collar bone. Your breath feels ragged, rattling around in lungs that can’t seem to take in oxygen no matter how high your chest rises and falls. Poe’s hand lingers on your throat for a second so you swallow again, with even less luck than before. His hand reaches up to grip your jaw which he uses to turn your head back toward him.

Oh.

Poe continues to move behind you, his motions controlling you both on the floor, but his face is strained. Sweat dots his temples, gleaming in his curls, and his teeth seem gritted, making his jaw set at a striking angle. His eyes pin you down, however, and they keep your attention as you gaze back, wide-eyed.

“You okay, rookie?” Poe’s voice is deeper than normal, huskier. The way it reverberates through your body makes a rumbling bubble up deep inside your chest. The beginnings of a moan, perhaps? You’re quick to gasp a response before such a sound has a chance to make its way into the air between you.

“I’m…feeling quite strange.”

The hand still at your waist tightens its grip while the other rejoins on the opposite side. You have to gasp again to keep from moaning. Suddenly you’re being maneuvered forward, Poe’s guidance weaving you through the crowd with ease despite the congested revelry.

Neither of you see the way Myrna is watching you both with a knowing smirk from her place draped around her own handsome pilot beau. Or the way the little old woman who’d gifted you the beverage hovers on the outskirts of the dance floor, a proud look on her wrinkled face as she eyes your retreating figures.

~*~

You’re not really able to follow where Poe is directing you, mainly because of how the imprint of his hands on your body seems to be searing into your skin through your flight suit. While your accelerated heart rate was the thing you had been most worried about, now you are equally worried about the dull ache that has seated itself in the pit of your stomach. You bite down hard on your lip to keep the moan from spilling out, the one you’ve been suppressing since the moment you became conscious to your current discomfort.

When Poe’s stride finally slows to a stop only then are you able to take in your surroundings. Blinking, you’re surprised to find that you’re now outside of the town, far from the lights and bustle of the party, walking into the silent clearing that contains the squadron’s parked aircrafts.

“Why are we all the way out here?” you ask, unsettled by how deep your voice sounds in the darkness.

“Needed to get away from the crowd.” You’re even more unsettled by how breathless Poe’s voice is as he says his first words since the dance floor. So unsettled that you turn in his arms so you can finally take in his disheveled appearance fully.

“Are you okay?”

“I don’t know, it’s the weirdest thing. One minute everything was fine and the next…”

“You can’t catch your breath,” you finish for him and he nods gravely. Both of your chests are practically heaving, pressing into each other with each exhale. When you become aware of this, it also brings awareness of the way his chest pressed up against yours is also adding pressure to your nipples. Since when were your nipples hard? The night is balmy, a cool breeze barely able to disturb the moist warmth that settles in the jungle terrain. You feel sweat begin to collect on the back of your neck and your hairline, much like the sweat causing Poe to shine a bit in the moonlight. And yet your nipples are hard and a shudder runs through your body, nerve endings clearly ten steps ahead of you, taking in some experience to which you’d yet to catch up.

“Wait a minute, look at me,” Poe suddenly orders, his fingers wrapping around your chin to lift your face toward his. You freeze as he stares down at you, eyes widening at whatever he sees.

“What is it?” you ask, voice urgent, almost frightened.

“Your pupils are wide as planets,” he mutters, distracted fingers drawing up the side of your jaw to press to the pulse point at your throat. “Your heartbeat is out of control.”

“I haven’t been able to calm down,” you say, nodding but getting more worried by the second. “Why can’t I calm down? Are you feeling the same way?”

Poe’s mouth presses into a hard line and he turns away abruptly, head tilting down.

“Oh fuck.”

“What?” You try to pull him back toward you but he doesn’t budge.

“I think…we’ve been drugged.”

Your blood runs cold and a hand flies to cover your mouth. You’d known tonight was too good to be true. Your mind races, making connections out of thin air, trying to place when and where you could have possibly come in close enough proximity to First Order agents to be compromised.

“But what – how – what can we do? What is it? Is it deadly?” You’re cut off by a sound issuing from Poe’s now curved body. You wonder at first if it’s a sob, which makes sense because you’re about ready to cry yourself. But then you realize it’s a chuckle.

“I wouldn’t say deadly. Just exceedingly inconvenient.”

“So you know what it is then?” you prompt, tugging at his shoulder some more to try and see his face. “Tell me!”

“Well for starters I’m pretty sure it was that drink the old woman gave us.”

Fuck.

Of course. What was the one suspicious thing you’d ingested all day? The fact that you hadn’t thought about it sooner makes you want to kick yourself, but you press on instead, anxious to have the matter dealt with.

“What does it do?” You hate the tremor that colors your voice. At that Poe finally turns around and you take him in all at once, trying to assess what he could have been hiding. His tall, wide-legged stance makes it easy to notice after a few seconds. As your gaze moves lower on his body you finally see the massive tent forming below the zipper line of his flight suit.

Without even being able to mentally process what you’re looking at your body responds immediately. A rush of warmth and wetness floods the apex of your thighs and the moan that you’d so far been able to hold in finally makes it way out of your throat. Poe’s eyes, which had recently gone hooded, widen in response to the lewd sound. You clap a hand over your mouth and snap your eyes back up to his face, away from the rigid shape that had made the muscles inside you contract wantonly around nothing.

“It’s made from a plant that’s meant to accelerate sex drive,” Poe says matter-of-factly.

You almost don’t hear him because your eyes have already slid back down his body, feasting on the sight of his impressive bulge. You’d heard stories of Poe’s sexual prowess, many from the man’s own loud mouth. You knew he’d satisfied many members of the Resistance, male and female alike. But you had never truly let yourself consider what he’d be like. What he’d look like. What he’d feel like…

“Why would she possibly give that to us of all people?” You feel like you’re going to cry. The feelings coursing through your body are overwhelming.

“Maybe she went around spiking many people at the party. Maybe she just thought you and I would look hot together? You can’t blame her for that one.” Poe winks at you and it diffuses some of your angst. You let out a tense laugh and shake your head.

“How do we make it stop?” you force yourself to ask, just as you force yourself yet again to look back up in his eyes. Poe averts his own, a sheepish look overtaking his face. When he doesn’t answer you step forward and grab his arm in alarm, trying not to consider the way his bicep bulges under his sleeve. “Poe?!”

“We have to…take care of it.”

You’re launching yourself away from him before he can finish the sentence. You probably knew the answer before you’d even asked the question, but his words still sent electricity through your spine.

“We can’t. That’s…that’s crazy – you’re crazy, Dameron!”

“Hey, you think I like this? Standing here like an idiot with my dick so hard I can barely see straight?”

The sexual nature of his words, spoken so plainly and without euphemism for the first time, makes a new wave of wetness pool between your legs against your will.

“Don’t….talk about it,” you say through gritted teeth, closing your eyes in an attempt to center yourself.

“What? Don’t talk about my aching cock?” he asks, almost as a challenge. He’s frustrated now, egged on by your attitude.

“Stop it.”

“Are you about to tell me you aren’t wet right now?”

You turn your back on him in a childish and fruitless attempt at blocking out his words. When you don’t reply you hear his footsteps as he approaches from behind.

“If we’re both having the same reaction, and I’m certain we are, then I’d imagine you’re practically dripping right now.”

His words would have made your eyes cross if you didn’t have them shut so tightly. A hand molds around your hip while the other grasps at the side of your neck, both working in tandem to pull your back flush against his front. The impact, though gentle, knocks the wind out of you. Or whatever wind had been in you in the first place. His lips are at your ear then and you melt into his touch.

“If we take care of this together we’ll go back to normal.”

“…back to normal?” you ask, simply repeating and not really aware of your words.

“Exactly.”

“I…I don’t know.” Poe’s hardened length is pressing into your ass now, insistent and firm behind you. The hand on your hip migrates lower to pull you against him. A swivel of his hips causes your own to follow the momentum, gyrating in their own right.

“We can be quick,” Poe coos, his voice vibrating over your earlobe where his lips are making contact with your skin. Another low chuckle sounds. “Or I can take my time if you want. Either way, I can promise you’ll enjoy it.”

There’s your cocky Fly Boy.

You wrench yourself from his grasp and take a few steadying steps away before gaining the wherewithal to turn back and face him once more. He looks supremely disappointed, arms still outstretched in the place where you had just been.

“Does this really have to be a…team effort?” you ask, face screwed up with discomfort. Poe runs a hand through his hair and casts a distracted glance about your surroundings.

“I mean I guess theoretically one could take care of themselves – ”

“Great!” you cut him off and stalk around to the other side of his x-wing. Of course he’d brought you to his ship. You look around for your own but when you can’t find it you plop yourself down on the ground.

“Are you kriffing serious?” comes Poe’s angry voice behind you as he stomps over. “We could bang this out and feel better but you’re just going to – ”

“Oh ‘bang’ this out? Real nice, Dameron.”

“You know what I mean.” You can practically hear his eye roll.

“The other side,” you say simply, lowering the zipper on your flight suit. When you don’t hear the sound of his retreating footsteps, however, you pause. “Stay on the other side of the ship, Dameron.”

He grumbles but does as you say. When you finally hear the sound of him throwing himself to the ground, you lift the tab of your zipper again. However, the loud and sudden ziiiip indicating that he’s yanked open his own garment seems ring out then in the clearing and you’re inundated with mental images of what that must look like. Poe sprawled on the ground with his flight suit open and askew. You imagine the expanse of his chest, the way the muscle would ripple in the shadows of the jungle. You’d seen him without a shirt before, the arms of his flight suit tied at his waist as he reclined beneath his x-wing making repairs. Covered in sweat and grease. The memory and the subsequent lurid thoughts have you dipping your hand down into the small opening you’ve made in your clothes, not fully comfortable enough to expose yourself entirely to the elements. When you reach the place between your thighs you have to swallow the gasp that bursts forth at the realization that Poe had been right. You’re not just wet. You’re dripping.

“Fuck.”

You think you say it quietly but a chuckle from the other side of the ship proves otherwise.

“Need any help over there?”

You ignore him and try to focus in on your own body, closing your eyes. You allow a hand to ghost over your breast as you ease a finger through your folds. You feel the insistent thrumming of your pulse even down below and your breath is shallow in your chest. The images dancing behind your eyelids show you flashes, glimpses of things you try to banish from your mind. The angle of Poe’s jaw. His faint, ever present stubble. The arch of his eyebrow. The curve of his smirk. His ass in those pants.

“Sweets…”

Poe’s voice interrupts a whimper you hadn’t even realized you were releasing.

“Poe.” Your voice is small and it cracks around his name. Your muscles are contracting but nothing you do eases the sensation. It just continues building within you. “It hurts.”

“Just come over here. I don’t even have to touch you. Just let me help you through it.”

You ponder the darkness before you, the way it envelops the other aircrafts in this makeshift parking zone. You hear a shick shick shick behind you and your cunt aches. Completely in response to the siren call of Poe Dameron’s building pleasure. You’re immediately intensely jealous. Jealous of the way that, you assumed, he was having more luck getting himself off than you were, despite the fingers inside you right now. Jealous of the way his voice didn’t crack when he beckoned you over.

But most of all jealous of the fact that he’s the one currently touching his hard cock. Not you.

You will yourself to stand up, pulling your hand out of your flight suit but not bothering to zip it back up. On jelly legs you make your way to the other side of the ship. The far side, facing away from the town square and the distant glow of the party you’ve now forgotten.

As you round the edge of the x-wing you bite your lip at the sight before you. Poe is indeed sprawled out with his suit zipped all the way down. His thick member protrudes from the bottom of the opening, a fist moving up and down rapidly, pulling from root to flushed tip in skilled motions. However the eyes that gaze up at you from under his unruly mop of curly hair are not doused with pleasure and satisfaction as you’d imagined. Instead he looks pained, almost agonized. At the sight of you he sits up a bit and does his best to give you a reassuring smile though it comes out as more of a grimace.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful, rookie.”

“That’s the drink talking,” you dismiss, despite the way your stomach swoops as you move to settle yourself down next to him, careful not to make contact. “And you know I hate you calling me rookie.”

“I’ll call you anything you want, baby, as long as you start touching yourself.”

Your cunt pulses at his words so suddenly that you almost double over. Your breathing, already ragged, speeds up as you feel the overwhelming urge to have something deep inside you. Dropping your hand into the opening in your suit you halt, however, watching Poe warily in your peripheral vision. He catches you looking and reluctantly stills the hand moving on member.

“Would sitting back to back help?” he sighs. You nod, scrambling over so that your back is to his.

This is better. This is much better, you think as you dip your hand back between your legs and into the waiting slick. You drag a finger in tight circles over your clit and do your best to calm the racing thoughts that flit back to images of Poe’s body.

The body that is currently pressed to yours, though not at all in the manner you would prefer.

Poe grunts then, making you lose your rhythm.

“This isn’t the first time I’ve wanted you, you know.”

You cut your answering gasp off at the source, not daring to make a sound lest it interrupt this information that you desperately needed to here. He interprets your silence correctly and continues.

“I’ve thought about you. When I’m in the cockpit on my way to some distant planet. When not even hyper speed can get me there quick enough before thoughts of you creep in.” He almost sounds mad, but you get it. The emotions coursing through your body along with the hormones are driving you wild and you don’t know how to feel.

“What…what are the thoughts about?” you can’t help but ask.

“I’d love to say it’s your smile or your brains or something sweet like that. And I do think about those things too, don’t get me wrong,” he says on a hoarse chuckle. “But it’s mainly your body.”

You slip a third finger inside your cunt as he says this, his words and the feeling mixing to cause you to let out an unchecked moan. You feel Poe’s body shudder against you.

“Shit Sweets you’re killing me.” You feel him tense as his hand begins moving faster. “I think about how you look poured into that flight suit. The way your tits and ass jiggle when you hop into your x-wing – fuck.” Another shudder wracks through his body and you can’t take it anymore. The way you’re touching yourself isn’t the way you usually do it. Not in those rare moments where you’ve got the sleeping quarters to yourself and you’re able to get yourself off in your bunk to images of a chiseled jawline, a clothed bulge, rippling muscles, soft, curly hair…

You abruptly pitch yourself forward to balance yourself on your knees and one hand while the remaining hand redoubles its efforts between your legs. The shift in position ends your physical contact with Poe and he swivels to see.

“What are you – ”

“Don’t turn around,” you gasp out. Your new angle works in your favor as your swollen clit becomes more sensitive, pulled down by gravity so that every swipe of your finger becomes more potent. “But for the love of gods, don’t stop talking.”

Poe is taken aback by your sudden forwardness, but he doesn’t let it faze him for long. Instead you hear his renewed efforts at jerking off as the sound of skin swiping across skin, made smoother by spit and precum, gets louder behind you.

“What do you want me to talk about? How much I wish it was your tight little pussy I was fucking instead of my fist?”

The whimper you release at that statement is unlike any sound you’ve ever made and it only spurs Poe on.

“And I just know you’re tight. I know it. And wet too, just like I guessed you were. I can hear it, baby,” he practically growls and you become intensely away of the slick, creamy sounds coming from the rapid in and out, in and out rhythm of your fingers delving into your cunt. “You’re dripping, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” You close your eyes and hear his words and wish the fingers inside you were harder, thicker, him.

“You wish it was my cock inside you, I know you do. You don’t want to admit it but you wish I was pounding into you, making you feel good. Making the ache go away.”

Your answering whine confirms his beliefs and he lets out a triumphant grunt.

“Fuck, baby. I want it, too. Bury myself deep inside of you and fuck you till that drink wears off and you’re still screaming for me, that’s how good it would be.”

“Oh gods.”

“Tell me who you’re wet for.”

“Y-you.” It comes out small. You’re shocked that you even say it, especially with how much you’ve been fighting all of this. You want it. You want it in your bones and in your blood and in your tight, spasming cunt. But you also want Poe’s friendship. Want him to tousle your hair on the way to the hanger. Want him to keep sending you funny messages over your data pad, constantly trying to outdo your own silly riddles and jokes. Want to tease him and eat dinner with him in the mess hall and slap him when he says something stupid and yell at him when he does something dangerous and cry when he doesn’t come back on time from a mission…

A sob finds its way out of your body, sandwiched between two moans. You’re not sure Poe even heard it until his voice reaches your ears again, this time gentler.

“Sweets? Is this working for you?”

You take a shuddering breath before answering.

“No.”

You practically hear Poe slump in defeat, the rhythm of his hand on his length slowing down. You bite your lip before continuing.

“Take me, Poe.”

“What?” Poe whirls around so fast you feel the air woosh over you as he disturbs it. You jump to your feet, still facing away from him and yank your flight suit over your shoulders and down your body, stepping out so it pools on the ground. He watches as you get back down on your hands and knees before him in your underwear, ass in the air, waiting for him to catch up.

“I need you, Poe. Just…just please get inside me,” you say, reaching back to pull the damp fabric of your panties aside, exposing your glistening, swollen folds for him to see.

You don’t have to ask him a third time. He’s on you so fast that you’re confused by his motions. It takes a few seconds before you realize that he’s taken your discarded flight suit and stretched it out on the ground, positioning you over it so that your hands and knees are protected from the dirt. The sweetness of this considerate action is offset by the way his fingers dig harshly into your hips, maneuvering your ass so that it lines up with his pelvis. You tilt forward, aided by pressure on your lower back which raises your click cunt to the level of his cock.  

“I’m going to make you feel so good – ”

“No more words, Dameron. Just shut up and get your cock inside – FUCK.” He spears you mid-sentence and you immediately fall down onto your elbows. Your ass still in the air, held in place by his hard grip, receives a smack and you cry out, feeling no pain. Only pleasure as the sting ripples through you and into your clenching cunt. He feels it deep inside you and groans.

“Maybe you’re the one who needs to shut up, baby.” His words issue forth from gritted teeth. “Always fucking teasing me with that fucking mouth.” His hips rut into yours, taking up an unforgiving pace, while the rest of his body folds over yours so his chest pressed flush to your back. One hand closes tightly around your chin, wrenching up your head and dragging a finger over your bottom lip which has grown plump from biting. “This beautiful, bossy fucking mouth. Always telling me off, telling me what to do.”

Your tongue darts out to meet his skin and his other fingers caress your chin in response. It’s a stark contrast to the almost feral way he is still clutching your hip and driving into you over and over.

There’s almost no resistance. You’re tight, cunt clutching onto his throbbing cock in an effort to keep him buried inside, but you’re wetter than you’ve ever been and it’s making his thrusts effortless. You assume it’s a side effect of the drink. But in some part of your brain you can’t believe that a plant could possibly make a man’s cock feel as good as Poe’s does right now inside you. How a plant could cause you to feel pleasure that is not simply rooted in the way his hand drags down from your jaw to wrench your breasts out of the cups of your bra. How a plant could in any way magnify the surely already intoxicating feeling of Poe’s mouth working at the side of your neck, the curve of your shoulder.

“This working, baby? This doing it?” Poe checks in then, not relenting in his thrusts. Never relenting. “You’re squeezing me, so I know your little pussy likes it.”

A shuddering gasp kicks through you before you can answer his question and he laughs. The vibrations go straight from his cock to your clit and you whimper some more.

“Your sounds. I want to record these little sounds you’re making and play them back when I’m flying. Have you fill the space in my x-wing till I can’t take it any more.” Poe presses a kiss to the back of your shoulder, nipping and then laving the skin over with his tongue. “I’m going to hear these sounds in my dreams.”

“It’s…just…the drink,” you practically hiccup, barely able to form thoughts from the way your body has focused all energy, all recognitions of nerve endings to the space between your thighs. Poe slaps your ass again and you keen.

“Just listen to yourself, baby. No drink is making you sound this hot. That’s all you, Sweets.”

Before you can argue further you do take a second to listen. To the way your shallow breaths mix with whimpers and whines. The gurgle in the back of your throat when his cock bounces against your cervix. He’s right. It is hot. You are hot. You reach a hand down to your clit, desperate to increase the already mind-blowing stimulation, greedy for more.

“You feel so good. You’re sosososogood,” you barely manage to slur. Despite your inability to fully speak you make the attempt because you assume that if hearing your gasps is egging him on, your words will amplify it. And amplify it they do. Poe’s hips stutter for a second before he drops down heavier on you, thrusting deeper and from a more primal place. A hand savagely kneads at one of your breasts, playing with the nipple.  

“I’ve never been this full. I can’t take it, I can’t…”

“Seems like you’re taking it pretty well, baby,” Poe coos, pressing more kisses to the side of your neck.

“I need m-more,” you gasp, realizing with urgency that the pressure in your core is finally building past the plateau of the last…hour? Half an hour? How long had this been going on? All night? It doesn’t matter because Poe’s inside you and he’s listening to you and suddenly you’re being slammed into with all the force he can muster. He expertly wrings pleasure from your body and you feel yourself careening toward a release that you can’t describe. Just out of reach and full of all the potential energy inherent in an object rocketing toward the moon only to soon plummet back to the depths.

“Poe! I…I…oh fuck…oh gods…I…”

“Go on, baby. Cum.”

“You ha- ahhhh. But you…y-you…” You’re babbling. You’re incoherent, not wanting to leave him behind in the blinding ache that comes before release. Your hands are fisting in the flight suit below you, desperate for something solid, something substantial to hold onto.

“Don’t wait for me, Sweets. Let go.”

And then his hands are closing over yours, fingers interlacing and squeezing down, pinning you to the ground with white knuckles that would hurt if you weren’t squeezing him right back, finally grounded in the way you needed.

And you’re cumming.

And cumming.

You feel every muscle in your body seize and spasm and bliss roils out through you in waves. You shake and stutter under him, feeling fresh wetness gush down around his cock as he fucks you through the feeling. You keep waiting for it to stop but it doesn’t, it only intensifies. It must be a side effect. Of the drink not the man. But when you feel yourself transcending the moment, the way your soul feels like it is literally floating above you, you use the out of body experience to take in the man who is causing this pleasure. The way he cages you in, bracing you through the storm of your orgasm, giving more and more to keep the flame burning as long as possible.

His muscles ultimately seize sometime around when your soul seems to sink back into your body and you’re one again enough with your senses that you can feel him paint your walls with sticky, hot cum. He doesn’t drop his weight on you like other men have after the completion of such exertions. Other men who had focused more on the destination than the journey, leaving you as wanting for release as you were wanting for air under the pressure of their body weight. Instead, Poe pulls you of you and flops to his back in the grass beside you. Without him holding you up you crumble down, face pressing into the fabric of your rumpled flight suit instead of the dirt, thanks to Poe.

A few minutes pass, silent except for the sound of your slowing gasps for air. When your breathing evens Poe sits up on his haunches to guide you back into your flight suit. You’re sticky from sweat and your combined cum, but you couldn’t care less with your bones liquified and your eyelids heavy. Gone is the buzzing ache, in its place a heavy sleepiness. When Poe lays you, now clothed, gingerly back down on the ground you automatically curl into him, allowing him to wrap his arms around your body.

Neither of you shares another word. You don’t have to.

Because shortly after you doze off. And for the first time in a long time your final thoughts before sleep overtakes you are not of the dread the morning will bring, but the solace you found in the night.

~*~

When you wake it’s to a dawn as grey as all the ones before it. Hazy with receding fog and with the promise of all the danger that looms ahead in the hours soon to follow. One of the planet’s suns has already breached the horizon, and you raise a hand to cover your eyes as you peer out from under the x-wing’s protective wing. Looking down you take stock.

Your flight suit is on but fully unzipped, leaving your chest and stomach entirely exposed, all the way down to your lower belly. A large hand covers one of your breasts, fingers twitching against your flesh as the man attached to it continues to dream. You follow the length of his arm to take in his body, tucked close into your own, equally unzipped, his broad torso showing through the gaping fabric. You watch Poe’s abdominal muscles contract with his inhales and exhales for a moment while you check in with your body.

The humming from last night is gone, that much is for certain. This makes you believe that the effects of the drink have worn off. You’re quick to question this hypothesis, however, when Poe stirs in his sleep and his hand squeezes down a bit on your breast. Your breath catches in your throat and fire shoots through your veins. A lingering symptom, you wonder. Or perhaps just a normal, biological reaction to sexual stimuli. You kick yourself mentally because of course it has to be the latter. It couldn’t be the third option which you won’t even allow yourself to fully consider.  

You require a shower urgently, it occurs to you suddenly. And food, a realization that coincides with a rumbling in your empty stomach. Knowing you’ll never have a good enough excuse to extricate yourself from this gorgeous man’s arms you steel your nerves and pull away. When you stand, Poe groans and allows an eye to crack open, his hand flying up to shield his eyes from the rising sun. You’re silhouetted against the dawn and he takes in your outline. The curves of you.

“Morning, Sweets,” he says, voice hoarse with sleep this time instead of sex.

“Morning, Fly Boy,” you reply simply with a small smile. You feel a buzzing in the pocket of your suit then and pull out your mini com unit, even more portable than your usual data pad. The message that blares across the screen and you relay it before Poe can reach his own device which had similarly vibrated.

“We’ve got a new mission. Briefing is in an hour and then we take off.” The information feels stilted as it leaves your lips. How can you feel so entirely, earth-shatteringly changed and yet in many ways everything is still the same. The sun still came up. The war still rages on.

You look down at Poe and his intense expression as he watches you makes you think that he’s wondering the same thing.

Your heart thumps in your chest, this time unaided by any drugged drink or the eyes or hands of a man whose existence seemed both your making and undoing. Routine is the only thing that can calm these nerves. Routine is what is required to survive war. Routine and protocol and boundaries.

You zip up your flight suit with finality.

“See you at the briefing?” you ask, though its more statement than question.

“Of course.” Poe’s response is quiet as he continues to watch you from his reclining position. You’re still above him and at a distance, a position he often associates with you.

You smile and give him a good natured salute before turning and making you way back toward the town where you know the rest of the Resistance members are already bustling about and preparing for the day.

Another day you hope you, and Poe, will be lucky enough to outlive.

~*~

Doing a smaller taglist since it’s a Poe fic and I’m not sure if everyone on my usual taglist is into it (Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed for future work!): @paper-n-ashes @mariesackler @tlcwrites @foxilayde @mylifeisactuallyamess @sacklerscumrag @jynzandtonic @millenialcatlady @barbers-glimmerin-darlin @hopeamarsu @direnightshade @leather-flannel-liquor @fizzywoohoo @aliveandlonely @wayward-rose @safarigirlsp @emeraldsiren20 @finn-ray-nal-beads @maryforyou @maybe-your-left

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Can I place an order for Yandere Geralt de Rivia with the kind and loving reader who sees the best in people?

Yes lemme cook something up for our mans Geralt⚔️

Geralt of Rivia x reader - Full Moon on the Rise

Summary: You’ve never felt actual hate for others, you can’t even bring yourself to hurt a fly, and with Geralt, he’ll make sure you never have to.

Warning: a bit of angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, protective Geralt

Masterlist

“So what do you think? The green cloak or the black one....ohhh or maybe the red one?” You ask excitedly as Geralt stands next to you, looking around for any potential threats more then actually paying any real attention, “I mean, the green matches more with the woods, you know trees n’ such and that’s great for blending in. But the black gives off those scary vibes you have. But the dark red one just looks so good, and comfy too.” You raise a brow as he nods, “You know.”

“Right.”

You smile at his adorably lack luster reply, it’s just how he is and that’s perfectly fine with you, “I’m going with the dark red cloak.” You grin with a curt nod of self approval for your knowledgeable decision making skills.

Turning to the cloak vendor you hold up your prize, “Good evening ma’am, how much for this mysterious beauty?”

The old woman smiles brightly, the corners of her eyes wrinkling as she beams, quite excited to have some business with you, “Oh, my dear that’ll be five silver pieces.” You nod, tucking your new cloak under your arm as you nudge Geralt for some coin.

He quickly snaps his head over to you, his golden irises showing concern before he realizes you’re completely fine, “Y/N what is it?”

With a small giggle you make a grabby motion with your hand, “Spare me five silver pieces my good sir.” You muse with a mischievous brow wiggle, earning an amused huff from your Witcher.

He politely grins, “Whatever the lady asks.” Feeling around he pulls out the exact amount of coin you need. Your palm is spread as he tilts his hand into yours, conveniently giving you the coin.

“Thank you my love.” You whisper softy as he simply hands you the flash of a smile before turning his head to scour the market place once again.

The old woman opens up a small sack of coins for you to dump yours in, “Thank ya dear, have a save eve’nin.”

Clink. Sounds the last silver piece as you hold your new dirt-less red cloak closer in your arm, “You too.”

She suddenly leans in a bit closer, her face going serious, “Best keep that Witcher close, never know what kind of beasts be lurking in the woods. Specially with the next full moons a com’in.” Her wrinkly complexion turning back into her original beaming old lady face, “Have a nice stay in Bellepav.”

Stepping away you nervously nod, “Uh, yes....I’ll try?” You reply, not certain if you should be concerned or ignore the weirdness of the locals.

Deciding to ignore the strange behavior of the kind old woman, you flash her a last generous grin before turning on your heel and walking over to Geralt. With the familiar sound of your approaching footsteps he turns an intrigued eye over to you.

His brows furrowing as you gently lay a hand on his arm, “You alright Y/N.” He worries, noticing the slight wariness in your step.

Lightly squeezing his forearm you send him a reassuring smile, “Of course, that old woman was just acting odd. Well not that odd, I’ve definitely seen weirder....she just had a strange look when she told me to keep you close and watch out for the next full moon.”

He moves to take your cloak from you, quietly swinging the thick comfortable dark red fabric around your shoulders, clasping the lock together that keeps the material from falling off your body.

After he’s done, does his beautiful golden eyes find your alluring ones, “Y/N, we’ll be fine. I wouldn’t dare let a soul touch you, you have my word.”

Reaching up to gently cup his scruffy cheek, you smirk, “I know you do.” Releasing your warm touch from his face do you turn towards the bakers cart, the smell of fresh bread wafting into your nostrils.

“Geralt!” You exclaim with an excited twinkle in your eyes, “Fresh bread....” Your skilled eyes land upon the shiny red apples displayed about on the stall, “Apples! Ugh, I haven’t had an actual apple in almost four months, what I would do for one.”

Your eyes stare dreamily at the bakers cart, your mouth watering at the smell and sight of the desired foods. Geralt chuckles at your adorable reaction before tugging at your arm. “Come on Y/N, I’ll get you something.” Speaks your kind Witcher with a tinge of humor in his gravely voice.

Snapping your head towards him, your eyes going wide in excitement, “Aww yes!” You shout before pulling him in the direction of the cart, joy flowing through your heart as you make hasty steps across the market place.

The red apples are even more beautiful then you’d first seen as you stand ogling them from your spot in the muddy lane, “Sir I’d like three apples and a loaf of that bread please.” You ask, your voice sweet as honey.

He nods, “That’ll be two silver pieces and a copper cent.” Inquires the baker with a friendly smile, casually looking you up and down though you’re to focused on the apples to even notice his slight creepiness.

Geralt does and immediately steps forward, his broad leather armored shoulder placing itself in between you and the lonely baker. His golden irises dark and deadly as he stares down the now noticeably frightened man.

The baker takes a step back, sending him a shy half grin, “Uh...I’ll get those apples...and uh...loaf of br-bread.” He stutteres, dropped his eyes to nothing else but his new task at hand.

You watch from behind Geralt’s strong body, your mind on those big beautiful apples as Geralt fishes out the coin, dropping it atop the wooden table as the baker hands him the loaf and a small bag filled with three juicy red apples.

A smile breaks out upon your face as Geralt hands you the food, you gratefully accept as he turns and practically death glares at the stunned baker, who’s notably averted his gaze to his fluffy loaves of bread.

Geralt turns back around to watch as you hug your valuables close, a small smirk pulls at the corner of his lips at your obliviously cute demeanor.

Resting a hand on your shoulder he finds your beaming eyes, “Lets go find Roach.”

You gasp, “I bet Roach would love one of these big beautiful bastards.” Earning a chuckle from your silver haired lover as he walks by your side on the way to the front entrance of the small village.

You both wander past some more harmless villagers going about their business until a small dirty little boy races past the two of you, tripping over his own two feet and just like that does he abruptly fall into the dirt. His hands landing with a thwack sound as his stomach and knees reach the hard ground.

He lets out a pained cry once his chin hits the earth, you don’t have time to think before you’ve crouched by his side like a concerned mother. You gently touch his shoulder as he sniffles, his dirt smudged face turning to you.

“That was quite the tumble, are you alright?” His big brown eyes are filled with unshed tears as he moves into a seated position, his hands clutched tight against his chest as he holds in the pain.

“Y-yes.....sorry miss I should have been looking were I was going.” He mutters, his eyes downcast as he avoids Geralt’s hard gaze from right next to you.

Your eyes turn soft before you take one of your red apples from out of your thin ruck sack, “I have just the thing that would cheer you up, ever taste something as colorful as this crimson beauty?” You add with a raise of your brow, the young boy sniffles again. His face lighting up as you wave the shining red apple across his line of sight.

You smile, handing him the scarlet treat, “I think you need this more then me. Maybe it’ll sharped those senses so you won’t fall again, hmm.”

He holds the valuable in his small grubby fingers, his eyes wide in surprised wonder, “Th-thank you miss, I’ll try and not fall again.”

You breath out an amused snort, “Yes, I wouldn’t want to land on these streets again, considering horses are ridden through them daily.” The brown eyed boy gives you the shyest of smiles before you stand to your full height once again.

“Safe travels.” You add with a friendly wink before continuing on your way out of the village, Geralt trailing after you like the ever loyal lover that he is.

His large form keeps comfortably at your side, “That was our apple Y/N.” States Geralt in his titular gruff Witcher voice.

Turning an amused smirk to him, you nudge his arm, “Great observation, but the little beast seemed to need it more...poor thing just about face planted in the street. Did look quite painful.”

Geralt smiles, always bemused by your kind intellect, “Y/N you are too kind.”

Walking past the front gates and down the muddy village trail you let out a small laugh, “What? Can I not give a little, if you haven’t noticed my White Wolf...this world doesn’t like to be very kind to the innocent most times.” He hums in agreement, “So you see, I’ll do whatever I can to help those who need it most. And if that’s a clumsy child with a dirty face, I’ll be glad to make their day better.”

You can’t see it, but Geralt’s heart could just about explode with how much love he has for you in this very moment, the way you speak with such care and kindness for the people of the continent. He’s never met anyone like you, through it all, with all you’ve seen, your heart still goes out for the ones who need it the most and Geralt knows this. 

Your whole aurora feels light and warm, excitement courses through your vessel as you think of how happy Roach is going to be once she gets a taste of your delicious apple. And especially how much you’re looking forward to taking a bite out of your own crispy red apple too. It’s the little things.

Boots press into mud as you finally find your way to the small stream where you both left Roach to nibble on some vegetation. You quickly set your loaf of bread onto a mossy log before reaching in your thin ruck sack to pull out one beautifully shiny crimson apple.

“Hello my dear Roach!” You exclaim happily as the mare neighs, “I’ve got a lil somethin’ for ya, it’s a...da da da daaaa....apple!” Geralt chuckles to himself in the background as he fumbles around in his black traveling bag, finding something to sharpen his sword with.

“How bout’ them apples..” you burst with laughter at your admittedly cheesy jest, “Okay, okay...here ya go Roach. A prize for the best lady in all the land.” Her head bobs up and down as you bring the red apple near her face. She quickly devours the fruit in a matter of seconds, the speed and her clear delight enough to earn a giggle from you.

“Roach.” You tut with a shake of your head, “Those manners are something else. Wonder who you learned them from?”

You turn an eye to Geralt who’s stopped sharpening his sword to find your humored gaze, “I wouldn’t have the slightest idea.” He mutters, doing his best to hide his growing smile.

Turning a flustered face away from him you gently pet Roach’s soft mane, “He thinks he’s funny, doesn’t he?” You whisper to the mare.

After tending to Roach for a bit do you walk down to the stream, washing away the dirt and grime from your hands and face as Geralt starts a fire close by. You can feel his golden irises watching you as the cool water washes away the worries of the day.

Finishing up your nightly routine, you stand once more, turning around to face the loving smile of your dear Witcher. You walk over to his glowing fire, a small smile upon your lips, “Room for one more?”

He scoots himself down the log, patting to the extra spot, “There’s always room for you.”

Sitting yourself next to him, he quickly wraps a protective arm around you, pulling your body close. The both of you do nothing but enjoy one another’s company and the crackling of the campfire for what seems like hours. You couldn’t be bothered to remove yourself from Geralt even if a whole war party was racing past you both louder then a giants scream.

Though you’re just about certain without a doubt in your mind that Geralt feels the exact same way. His breathing his steady and calm, it’s a comforting rhythm that you could listen to for hours. Even his large muscular arm is warm against your body, he’s like a furnace on the coldest night. And all yours.

You’re just about to drift off into dreamland when a sudden loud howl is heard in the near distance causing you to jump. Geralt hugs you closer, “Fear not Y/N, it’s just a damn wolf, nothing to be afraid of.” He assures you with the kindest of smiles, not a note of falseness lacing his words.

Resting your head against his broad shoulder once again, you gently squeeze his hand, “Right, of course. Just a stupid old wolf who apparently feels it the time to howl at the full moon tonight.” You affirm with a curt nod, “I mean, it’s beautiful out and whatnot, guess it just startled me is all.”

“There’s nothing in these woods to be afraid of, except for me.” Grumbles Geralt as he stares into the embers of the fire.

“Oh, my love I could never be afraid of you. Never.” He smiles at your truthfulness, his chest filling with warmth at your kind words.

In reply he places a gentle kiss atop your head, earning a content sigh to leave your lips at the feeling, he is too good to you and you wouldn’t have it any other way. Not once has he ever made you uncomfortable or in fear for your life because of him, Geralt makes sure of himself to always put you first. He couldn’t bare to ever see you in pain.

The grip on your Witcher’s arm goes tighter at the sound of another piercing howl, this time much too close for your liking. Geralt can sense the fearful uneasiness radiating off of your smaller frame, how your heartbeat has picked up with the rush of your nerves. You’re not one to scare that easily, but this wolf is most definitely getting closer for whatever reason.

“Geralt!” You whisper yell, “That sounded close!”

With one arm wrapped around your torso and the other one clasped around the hilt of his silver sword, he looks around him as they two of you keep seated atop the log, a grand moon cloaking the land in a strangely beautiful whiteness. Revealing enough light upon the ground so that not all of the forest is covered in darkness and shadow.

“Don’t worry Y/N, I will protect you.” He swears to you, giving a light squeeze to your hip in a small act of comfort, “And anyways, if this was anything to be truly concerned about, Roach would show it. We are going to be fine. This wolf is simply just passing through.”

Your eyes glance over to Roach who’s casually nibbling on some grass, “Alright. Perhaps I’m overreacting, it’s just a wolf going on a nightly stroll as you do, nothing weird about that.”

“Precisely, now how about we get ready for bed? I’ve got the bed rolls already layed out for us....so don’t worry Y/N I’ve got you.” Reassures your Witcher as he removes his arm from your side to rest his sword in the grass right next to his makeshift bed. 

Feeling much better now you eagerly follow suit, the roughish cloth of your traveling bed roll is a cherished luxury of journeying across the vast lands of the continent. Though a tavern mattress would be more inviting, the arms of Geralt are always enough in your eyes, or perhaps arms in this case.

Even on the coldest of nights out here would you never really feel a shiver or the icy touch of the cool night air upon your skin. For your Witcher’s large frame seems to always be enough to block out the chill with his body heat when pressed closely against your back.

��Just like he is doing now, holding you securely to his large chest, his arms wrapped around your torso. Pulling yourself firmly counter to him, a thick blanket holding in the needed heat that nicely covers over the both of you.

With Geralt so near, your wandering and worrying mind has subsided those troublesome thoughts away from you, the howling wolf from earlier now finding it’s way into the back of your head. Giving yourself time to forget and find the call to sleep once again. With the warmth of Geralt holding you close, your eyelids flutter shut in a matter of seconds, the pull into the dark void of unconsciousness taking hold of you quickly.

Soon you’re out like a light, Geralt falling asleep not long after you do, leaving only the dull glowing embers of the campfire to keep watch over the two of you. Sleep is peaceful and full of strange images presenting themselves as dreams in your head, you can hear the soft sweet calling of Geralt as he speaks sweet nothings into the bleary grey void. 

Suddenly you’re standing in a large field of the greenest grasses flowing at your feet, large beautiful mountains surrounding you on all sides off in the far distance, you look to your left and find a single small tree with a branch sticking out. 

Walking closer, a black raven materializes right before your very eyes, breaking the silence with a gravelly shrill caw as it nods in your direction. Like it’s trying to communicate with you in the birds own way, furrowing your brows, you trek closer to the mysterious bird. You don’t appear to feel afraid or scared, you’re not even sure if you feel anything at all. Guess that’s just how dreams are sometimes.

Taking another step closer the raven lets out a thrilling caw before the dark bird spreads its black wings, you stumble back as the bird jumps from its perch to take flight. It flaps past you before landing on the short green grass where it is immediately clouded in dark smoke of blues, purples, and deep reds until everything clears to reveal the dirt smudged face of the little boy from earlier that day.

You gasp, surprised to see the little guy standing right before you once again, he looks up to you now, the tiniest of smiles crossing over his face. You stand perplexed, ready to ask him why he’s here when suddenly he points to the blue sky. 

“Hold your silver close.” He speaks softly, in that unassuming boyish voice of his.

Hugging yourself, you glance back down at him, “Sorry? I’m not sure what you mean.”

He simply points his little stubby finger back up at the sky, you follow, bewildered to find that the sky is now dark and full of stars, though you can still see around you like the sun is still out. How odd.

“Hold your Witcher close.” Warns the small child in the calmest of voices. 

Furrowing your brows in confusion you meet his stoic gaze once again. “Uh....I’m kind of lost, sorry.” You mutter, “I’m not certain what you mean.”

The child smiles a beaming grin, letting out the most adorable of giggles before pointing up at the night sky for the third time, you shift your gaze to find nothing but pitch blackness. And a huge milk white glowing full moon, it’s the largest you’ve ever seen and it’s absolutely magnificent.

You don’t even notice the smile that's fallen onto your face when you suddenly hear the flapping of feathers, snapping your sight back over to the young boy, you’re perplexed to be greeted with the beaming wrinkly face of the old woman from the market. 

She nods, acknowledging your presence, “Watch for what lurks in the woods dear. The full moon is here.” She whispers, the warmest of smiles gracing over her aged face as she nods to you once again.

Taking a step closer you take a nervous fistful of the red cloak that’s covering your body, how strange you didn’t notice the material before hand. “Oh, uh hello there....it is quite beautiful isn’t it.” You stammer, “There was a little boy just here moments ago. Do you know where he went?”

She tilts her head to the side, walking a couple steps forward so that she can reach out to clasp both your hands with hers, a kind twinkle in her eye, “My dear, he will always love you, through land and sea, from woods to meadow, and far beyond what makes us human.” She gently squeezes your hands in reassurance, “No matter the cost, he will always love you. For you are his moon, and he is your sun.”

Your brows scrunch together at her poetic words of wisdom? Or, well you’re not entirely so sure, “Sorry. I’m not confident on what you’re getting at ma’am, uh...thank you, I guess.” She smiles once again, showing you a nod of approval before letting go of your hands. 

She takes a step back, clasping her palms together, “He is here.” 

“Who is here?” You wonder.

“You will see.”

Without warning she abruptly bursts into a flurry of cawing ravens that squawk and screech as they press and flap their dark wings against your face, causing you to fall back into the grass from the jolting intrusion. Suddenly you suck in a quick breath of cold air, your eyes shooting wide open, only for you to find the snoozing face of Geralt. 

His tangled dirty white hair a mess over his handsome face as he lets in slow and calming breaths, you relax, letting out an audible sigh of relief. What a strange dream that was, you’ve never had anything like it before. And your dreams are far from anything normal most times. 

Though Geralt feels rather nice snuggled next to you, your body feels hot and sweaty, like you can’t help but feel a bit overwhelmed and cornered at the moment. Wanting to get some air and cool off, you quietly and skillfully slip from your Witcher’s sweet embrace. You slowly cover him back up with the thick blanket, tip-toeing over to Roach who’s itching her furry bottom on a tree.

You take small steps towards her, a half smile pulling at the corner of your lips, “Hey there girl, having fun?” You chuckle to yourself as she does her thing.

“Nice night huh, I hope no one’s come around to bother you.” She leans her big soft nose into your gentle touch as you pet her, “I got a little too warm, guess Geralt’s a lot hotter then I anticipated. Well, I mean...he’s always hot if you catch my meaning...but you probably already new that and uh....you’d probably rather not listen to me ramble on about how attractive your rider is, hmm? So don’t fret, I will stop.”

She snorts, nudging her nose into your opened palm, “Okay girl, I think you’re great too. I’d say you’ve helped us out quite a bit and not to mention when...” 

Snap.

Your head leers to the left at the abrupt sound, nothing but milky white darkness and shadow is to be seen as your eyes trail over the wood line. That was certainly very close, what the hell even made that stick break? Was it a deer, or maybe a coyote? 

Your nerves prick when Roach suddenly takes a wary step backwards, her leather reigns pulling to their limit as she takes another step away from you. Thinking quick, you rush to her side, pulling out Geralt’s other silver sword just incase some weird shit is about to go down.

Grasping the blade in your tight grip, you take cautious steps towards the heavy pines that seems to be the place where the stick snapped. You swallow nervously, your heart just about beating out of your chest as you travel closer and closer to the green bristles. 

Y/N what are you doing? Have you learned nothing from what those weird dreams were telling you?

Blinking hard, you stop, turning an apprehensive glance over to your peacefully sleeping Witcher, why wake him this could be a simple deer? Letting out another shaky breath you turn towards the thick pine trees, squinting your eyes as you try and do your absolute best to locate the intruder. Walking past a small evergreen, your heart feels like it’s about to explode when suddenly you hear a gentle rustle of leaves directly in front of you.

Turn back idiot.

Stopping dead in your tracks, you blink again, attempting to focus enough that maybe you’ll be able to see what’s making that noise. But as you’re leaning in to the pines, does your eyes finally catch the sight of a large black figure standing on the other side of the tree. Without warning the shadow leaps, you don’t even have a chance to scream before the flash of pearly white fangs reveals itself to you in a raging blur. 

The beast shoves you back into the clearing, emitting a blood curdling howl of agony as it steps into the moonlight, your eyes widen in fear at the chilling sight of a huge dark-grey werewolf. It’s inhuman eyes that of glowing topaz, it’s fangs bare and mouth dripping with saliva. Your chest rises and falls with heavy terrified breaths as the wolfman stands on two legs, its strong hand going to its stomach where a thick human like paw pulls out your silver blade.

Steaming red hot blood pours to the frost covered earth as the beast drops the shinning silver to the ground, its wound showing in the bright moonlight as it eyes you down like you’re nothing more then a lost sheep. You shiver at the sight, desperately scooting yourself backwards towards the fire as the werewolf growls a low but haunting note, falling onto all fours as it takes a step closer.

A frightful tear falls down the side of your cheek, you see nothing but hunger and pain in this creatures eyes, he’s slowly dying, but you know he will kill you before his last breath is had.

The wolfman growls again, readying a last charge when all of a sudden a shimmering silver sword is thrust deeply into the beasts throat, the source of its demise steps in between you and the wounded bastard.

Your eyes are wide as you watch the werewolf sink to the earth, gargling and choking on it’s own blood as it dies, twitching here and there before finally it goes still as stone. Not a sound emitting from it’s vessel but the heavy breaths of yourself and Geralt, who’s walked over to the beast now. Crouching down to observe it better, he hums, pulling the blood covered sword out of the monsters throat with a gross meaty sound.

You let out a shaky breath, slowly pulling yourself to your feet as Geralt drags his bloody silver over the beasts fur to clean the wet red from the blade. You swallow thickly, eyes watery from the whole frightening ordeal, “So not a deer as I had hoped.” You mutter, a nervous chuckle leaving your lips causing you to gasp in pain at something on your ribs. 

Geralt pierces his sword into the soft dirt, his face a mask of frustrated anger as he turns to you, “Y/N what where you thinking? You could have been killed, you didn’t know what was lurking in the dark, why wouldn’t you have just stayed by the fire?” He grumbles as you avoid his troubled gaze.

Another tear slips down your cheek causing his face to immediately soften, “I don’t know?” You whisper sadly, “I...I shouldn’t have thought to walk in the dark alone like that, it was foolish of me Geralt, truly...I’ll think better of it next time I promi- agh ugh...”A sharp jolting pain rips through your body right down the side of your right ribcage, feeling like someone has just burned you with a cast iron. 

More whimpers slip from your tongue at the searing violent stinging of your flesh causing you to press your hands against the area, your face contorting into one of agony while Geralt’s expression reveals deep concern. Not understanding in the slightest why you feel such misery all of a sudden, your eyes slip down to the dreaded area where you take notice of how your dark coat appears to be torn in jagged slashes where the pain is coming from.

Your brows furrow as you slowly remove your tied overcoat, Geralt’s big golden irises studying your every move for what the problem may be. Your hands make quick work of the lacing, now your arms move as you remove the jacket, you gasp in fear once it falls to the ground.

“Y/N.” Whispers Geralt in the softest of voices as a lone tear slides down your cheek.

Slowly you raise your weary head to meet is saddened gaze, “I’ve been bitten.” You rasp, lifting your bloody hand up into the silky moonlight, the burning ache of your wound making itself more present then ever.

Suddenly a surging spike of white hot torment angrily tears up into your side once more, though this time it’s too overwhelmingly excruciating that you fall to your knees, desperately grasping your wounded side when Geralt takes quick steps forward. Pulling you into his strong arms before you’re able to even hit the cold earth completely, his eyes never leaving your distressed face.

“Y/N look at me love, I’m right here...” He speaks gently while holding you close, though you can’t look at him, “don’t be afraid I’ve got you.”

More fearful tears fall freely now as you press your face into his shoulder, a numb and dark feeling finding it’s way into your soul while your arms wrap themselves around his waist, “No, not this.” You cry, shaking with fright, “This cannot be, I-I cannot be a wolf beast....I won’t ever harm anyone Geralt I swear to you on my life, I would never! I-I could never, it isn’t in me!” 

“Oh Y/N, my dear Y/N..” His voice surprises you with how uncharacteristically tender it sounds, “Look at me love.” He pleads calmly, pulling you from his shoulder so that you may look into his kind-hearted gaze, “Do you think now, that I would dare lay my blade against your precious skin?” Your lip quivers as your watery eyes slip from his to the werewolf laying dead near the two of you.

“I am one of them now Geralt. How can I live as this now, I am not a monster. I can’t hurt innocent people, I can’t.” You exclaim, your voice breaking as you speak, “All the years we have been together have been the happiest of my entire life, know this Geralt. You bring me so much joy and light that I never imagined I could ever feel, you have given me your heart even when you first claimed you could not love. I will never forget that.” His heart breaks in two at your truthful words of honesty paired with how somber and dismal you appear.

Not being able to stand you looking away from him for much longer, he carefully lifts a hand up to turn your face to his, leaving his palm on your cheek in a comforting manner, “Y/N my love, you will never be a monster in my eyes, not once not ever. I may be a Witcher, but you will not meet an untimely end due to this curse that has made it’s way into your vessel.” His eyes are soft and serene, full of absolute love and adoration for you.

Y/N he will not hurt you, but you cannot hurt others.

You sniffle, your voice thick as you speak, “I will not let others suffer a violent death because of me Geralt, it’s not in my blood.”

“You will not, there is always another way..”

“There is no other way!” You interrupt, sure of yourself that this new affliction will be your inevitable demise, “A werewolf cannot be broken of their curse once it is had, there are no known antidotes!”

“Y/N..”

“This bite cannot be undone Geralt.”

Eyes softening, he pulls you in closer to rest his head against your own, “My dear Y/N, your life means more to me then you know. I will find you the cure, I have seen a vial of it myself long ago when visiting an experienced alchemist who taught me many things about potion making. He will surly know how to rid this she-wolf within you, I am sure of it.”

Lifting your face away from his, you finally show him the tiniest of relieved smiles, your heart bursting with joy at this refreshing news, “You never fail to surprise me, even now. I trust you...I love you Geralt of Rivia with my entire being, every part of me from now until death. I guess this world has yet to bring me down.” 

Studying your newly determined expression, he grins with eyes full of love, “I do not doubt it my dear one.”

[rocorambles]

A Skulk of Foxes

Pairing: Kita x Reader

Prompt: Fantasy

Genre: SFW, Fluff, Fox Shifter Kita, Fantasy AU, Shifter AU

Summary: You moved to the woods to start fresh, begin a new chapter in your life. Little do you know just how much your world is about to change because of a skulk of foxes.  

Author’s Note: This is my contribution for my HQ Discord Server’s SFW collaboration. There are so many talented writers on the server and I highly encourage you to check out the collaboration masterlist here to see how everyone decided to run with this prompt. (Masterlist goes live Thursday, October 29th 11:00pm U.K. time!) 

You sigh with relief when you finally finish unpacking the last box of your possessions, stretching your aching muscles as excitement finally begins to bubble inside of you when you proudly look at your new home you’ve made for yourself. Reality is finally sinking in and your giddy with the feeling of a fresh start, a new beginning. The quaint little cabin is certainly different from the cramped modern apartment you had in the heart of Tokyo, but different is exactly what you need and you nestle into the cozy armchair by the window in your new living room, a cup of hot tea in your hands as you enjoy the silence of nature and the view of swaying branches. 

If anyone were to have told you that you’d willingly choose to live in the middle of the woods by yourself a few years ago, you would have laughed. You were a city girl through and through and the idea of not being surrounded by the noise of traffic and crowds of people was baffling. But after your long-term relationship had taken a nosedive into the ground and crash and burned, suddenly the city felt suffocating, filled with too many memories, too many mutual acquaintances and when you had seen this listing on your way back home from work one night, you had jumped at the opportunity to escape it all and start a new chapter. 

Your new way of life takes some adjusting to, but you don’t mind as you pull on your new hiking boots, eager to explore the acres of wooded lands you’re surrounded by. The air is crisp and fresh, and you inhale deeply, soaking in the peaceful quiet only interrupted by the crunching of dirt and grass under your feet. And that’s how your days idle by, you scoping out the area in the early mornings as the sun is rising with your trusty nature handbook you’d bought in one hand, a basket in the other hand as you look back and forth between the herbs and plants you see and the painted illustrations and tips in the book, returning with a bundle of freshly picked produce before signing onto your work computer and dutifully putting in your hours. It’s a tiring grind, but when you finally get to power down your laptop and sit outside under the bright night stars with a glass of wine in your hand, it doesn’t seem so bad after all. 

You get savvier and more adventurous, really leaning into country living as you begin to grow your own vegetables and fruit, set up a fire pit, plant flowers that you use to spruce up your living space. It’s a wonderful life, but there’s only one slight concern in the back of your mind.

The foxes. 

Growing up in the city, you’d never learned how to handle animals other than the rats and roaches the concrete jungle was infested with. Sure, you love your share of fluffy dogs and cats that you’d pet and play with, but there’s a big difference between domesticized pets and wild animals and you had noticed early on that your neck of the woods seemed to be rampant with foxes. You wonder if it’s just the fact that you’d never seen a fox in real life before, but you can’t help but think these foxes seem much larger than your usual fox, their fur and eye colors ranging far more than you thought was biologically possible. But even though they seem to like hovering around you and watching you intently from a distance, they never draw near and they leave your gardens alone, so you dismiss their presence, letting them do as they please as you go about your own business. 

The weather’s getting colder and you figure now is the time to test the fire pit you’d built. It takes a bit of fumbling around, but you beam with pride when you get a flame started, mesmerized by the flickering light and warmth beginning to billow. And although the wind has a bite to it, the radiating heat keeps you comfortable as you roast the chicken you had bought in town, mouth already watering as the smell of cooked meat begins to permeate throughout the air. But you’re startled when two furry bodies suddenly brush up against you and you stay perfectly still, unsure what to do when a gold fox leaps into your lap, curling into a fluffy ball as he stares at you while a silver fox calmly sits next to you, nudging your hand with his head in a silent order to pet him and you tentatively scratch behind his ears, staring in awe as he leans into your touch. 

For wild animals, they’re oddly well behaved and affectionate and you’re frankly stunned that they hadn’t just pounced at the raw meat and ran away with your dinner. But you’re not complaining and you continue petting them as your meal continues cooking, only stopping to their dismay when the chicken is ready to be cut up. Your heart breaks a bit when you see them staring expectantly at you and you swear they're both pouting as you make a move to bring the chicken inside the house, but their ears perk up when you leave your door open and beckon them inside and they’re quick to race towards you, rushing between your legs before making their way to your dining table and jumping up on the extra chairs you have set. It’s certainly an odd sight to see two large wild foxes easily make themselves at home, but you can’t help but fondly smile at them when you prepare three plates of food and they eagerly dig in. 

They’re surprisingly neat about eating and it’s almost eerie how they seem to purposefully keep the scraps and bones on their plate, almost human-like the way they grab your napkin, using it to wipe their mouths and paws. Maybe they used to be someone’s pets? But you don’t dwell on it, enjoying the company they provide as they curl up by your feet as you wash the dishes, as their feet pitter-patter after you as you do some errands around the cabin and you’re almost sad when they nudge you to the door, waiting for you to let them out before you go to sleep. 

You quickly realize there’s nothing to be sad about, not when you have a furry entourage that walks beside you whenever you’re outside, not when bodies are weaving in between your legs, almost threatening to trip you with how excited they are to play with you, not when heads are constantly butting against you, begging for pets. It seems like your two friends had spread the word and now you have a whole slew of friendly foxes wanting to get to know you better and you love every second of it, even building a little door for them to easily walk in and out of your cabin and it becomes a common occurrence for you to wake up to fluffy bodies curled around your body, for foxes to be perched on your dining room chairs at meal times, for you to have a lap full of needy foxes wanting your attention when all your bellies are full.  

But there’s one fox who keeps his distance from you and even though he’s not the largest of the bunch, even you can sense the quiet authority he has as the other foxes are quick to lower their heads submissively and run to him when he barks at them. Even the golden fox who you’ve come to pinpoint as the troublemaker of the group seems to quiet down a bit around him and one day when he’s being just a tad too rowdy with you, nipping you harder than usual as he excitedly pounces on you, he immediately whines and sinks his head into the crook of your neck in apology when the light gray leader harshly growls at him. You affectionately pet the sad gold pile in your arms and verbally assure the gray fox that you’re fine even though you’re sure that he can’t understand a word you’re saying, but to your surprise, as if he comprehends exactly what you’re trying to convey, the gray fox relaxes a bit and lies back down, going back to quietly watching his pack and you. 

The weather’s becoming frigid and you know it’s silly to worry about clearly healthy and strong wild animals who’ve fended for themselves their whole lives, but you can’t help the pang of concern you have for your furry friends as snow begins to creep in. However, in hindsight, maybe you should have been more concerned for yourself. It’s an especially brutal day and you really shouldn’t be outside at all, not with the wind whipping at neck breaking speeds and torrential amounts of snow pouring down, but like a true city idiot, you’d procrastinated about restocking your wood supply and now with nothing left to keep you warm, you have no choice but to venture out and collect as much as you can to at least keep a fire going on during the worst of the snow storm. 

You pride yourself on knowing the woods like the back of your hand now, but the pain of the wind whipping your face and the never ending white in your vision as the snow keeps on coming down makes it hard to concentrate, makes it hard to orient yourself and as the frost begins to get to you, making you shiver, making you lose all train of thoughts other than the fact that you’re literally freezing to death, you panic. You’re frozen stiff as you wildly circle around, trying to calm the swirling dark thoughts in your head as you try to make sense of where you are, but it’s no use. Everything looks the same now and you think you might be sick from the rocketing anxiety inside of you, but you’re pulled back to reality by a harsh tug at your coat sleeve and you almost sob in relief when you see a familiar light gray pelt tipped with black. 

Brown eyes look imploringly at you as he gives your sleeve another harsh tug and that’s all the encouragement you need to stumble after him, trusting him to bring you back to safety. Your legs are numb and there’s not a hint of grace in your steps and for a second, you’re afraid of falling behind, but your heart warms at the way he makes sure to never be more than an arm's length in front of you, always turning his head back to make sure you’re still right behind him, nipping insistently at you when you pause for too long. And even when you finally reach your cabin, he practically shoves you through your door with his whole body, almost ripping your clothes as he rapidly helps you remove your soaked through clothing. 

You’re shocked to see him still standing outside your bathroom door when you finally step out of the warm water, but still overwhelmed and exhausted by the day’s events, you only briefly acknowledge him as your body barely makes it to your bed before collapsing. And as your eyes shut and you slip under a heavy cloud of sleep, you swear you feel arms and hands rearranging you, carefully tucking you underneath your blankets, propping your head up on a pillow. You swear you hear a male voice scolding you for putting yourself in danger, telling you to rest. But too exhausted to open your heavy lids, you chalk it up to your imagination before completely drifting off. 

You’ll never be able to fully explain what happened as you finally wake up only to find that a fire has been started, a healthy supply of dry wood set up by it, your wet clothes hung up to dry, but unable to really remember much after you’d been guided back to your cabin, you think you must have just been working on auto-pilot before you passed out. (Never mind that you certainly don’t remember collecting that much wood.) But with no better explanation, you let it be, just glad to be safe and warm. And it seems like you’re not the only one happy to still see you alive and kicking as familiar visitors come by to check in on you and you have a strange suspicion that they’re worried about you, even the gold fox being more docile than usual as he cuddles with you. To your surprise, their leader also pays you a visit and you can’t help but feel chastised when you thank him for rescuing you, only to get a sharp nip and a growl in return and you swear he’s glowering at you. But it seems that all is forgiven when he shoves the gold fox out of your lap and regally takes his place, curling up and falling fast asleep on top of you. 

They never let you leave your cabin alone again that winter and it’s almost comical when they let out a series of howls as you climb into your car when you refuse to let even one of them ride with you. You wonder if an outsider would think you’re crazy as you speak to them, telling them you’d be right back after you pick up some much needed supplies and food from town that you can’t get by yourself in the woods. But eventually they quiet down and you chuckle when you see them all sitting outside your cabin through your rear car window, watching you leave, and you have a strong suspicion that they’ll be in the same exact position waiting for you when you return home. 

The town’s small, but everyone’s so friendly and helpful that you don’t mind waiting a tiny bit longer in line as the sole cashier takes care of everyone, enjoying the friendly chitter chatter and catching up on what’s been going on. The sheriff greets you and you smile at the handsome man. Daichi had been one of the first people to go out of his way to greet you. “It’s a sheriff’s duty to know everyone in town,” he had said, but you had a feeling that sheriff or not, he’d still be friendly enough to try and get to know the new person in town. Conversation is pleasant as both of you share what’s been going on in your lives, but your heart drops when he warns you to be careful of poachers in your area. His team is still trying to find and arrest them, but until then, he cautions you from wandering too far from home. He continues rambling on, but you’ve completely tuned him out, your mind only thinking of your new furry family and everything is a blur as you shakily pack your car trunk and race home. 

Relief floods through you when you see the foxes still lazing about and lounging in your yard, perking up at the sight and sound of your rapidly approaching vehicle. But their fur stands up and their tails rise in agitation at your distressed state as you usher them into the safety of your cabin and before you know it, you’re surrounded by multiple bodies whimpering and trying to jump on you to soothe you. You know it’s silly to talk to them and try to explain what’s going on, but with no other way to relay your feelings, you tell them what Daichi had told you, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes when you beg them to be careful, telling them they can use your house as a safe shelter whenever they need, and you don’t even realize that you’re almost completely sobbing until their light gray leader leaps into your lap and gently laps away your salty tears, nuzzling his face against your cheek as if he’s trying to comfort you. And whether or not that’s really what he was intending, you do feel better as you hug his large body close to you, burying your face into his soft fur. 

You feel lighter after that night, still a little wary and concerned for your newfound friends, but days pass and life seems normal. You don’t hear gunshots. You don’t see strange men roaming through the woods. Daichi and you keep in contact and although he tells you they still haven’t caught the perpetrators yet, slight hope rises in you and you wonder if they’ve moved on to a different area. But your hopes are instantly dashed when you’re abruptly woken by paws frantically clawing at you, loud distressed howls right in your ear and with your heart thumping out of your chest you stare with wide bleary eyes at the gold and silver foxes nudging you out of bed, one leading the way, the other repeatedly rushing you, his head pushing against the back of your legs. 

You have a bad feeling about what has them in such an uproar and you hate that your apprehension was warranted when you see their leader crying in pain, an ugly sharp metal contraption digging deeply into one of his front legs and suddenly you’re moving even faster than your furry companions as you lunge towards him, quickly, but carefully trying to assess the damage, trying to figure out how to untangle him from the horrid trap. You’ve just managed to pry open the trap enough for him to free himself and limp a bit aways when you hear the sounds of men's voices and approaching footsteps. And there’s nothing friendly about the way they’re shouting, nothing welcoming about the glint of their guns in the flashlight beams bouncing around, so before you can even strategically think about what you’re doing, you pick up the injured fox, careful not to jostle or touch his wound as you run as fast as your legs can move, not stopping even when your lungs are burning from exertion, even when you want to keel over from exhaustion, urged on and not allowed to slow down by the nips to your ankles the gold and silver foxes give you as they run alongside you. 

Gunshots are whizzing around you, but you have the knowledge of the terrain and expert guides on your side and the angry screams get quieter and farther away the longer you race forward before soon enough there’s only your labored breathing and the tiny cries of the fox you’re holding to your chest. But despite that, you don’t slow down, throwing your front door open as you slowly lay the gray fox on your bed, rushing to grab your first-aid box while simultaneously calling Daichi, putting him on speaker phone as you wash the bloody matted fur. You know you must sound frazzled, distracted as you fumble with words, trying to give him the best approximate location you can of where you’d lost the poachers while you tenderly pet the whimpering fox who’s hissing with every wipe you give to his bleeding injury, but you thank whoever’s listening that Daichi makes sense of your stuttered words and tells you he’s on his way to scan the area and for you to get some rest before hanging up and leaving you to give your sole attention to your patient. 

You whisper sweet encouraging words in a soft tone, apologizing and stroking his stomach everytime he winces as you continue cleaning his wound, but he stays perfectly still, not budging even an inch despite his discomfort and when you finally bandage him up, you smile as you see him finally slumping into your bedsheets, exhaustion finally catching up to him now that adrenaline isn’t amping him up and you can’t help the affectionate kiss you plant on his forehead as you tuck him into your bed, unaware of the way brown eyes stare at you in shock, unblinking as they process the intimate gesture you’d gifted him. And when you get ready for bed, shooing the other foxes out of your room to give your special guest some space and peace to fully relax, you’re still oblivious to the way a wet snout tentatively returns your gesture when you close your eyes, making light contact with your own forehead before curling his furry head underneath your chin and basking in your natural warmth. 

It’s warm when you wake up, which is welcome when it’s frigid outside of the safety of your blankets and you instinctively lean into the source expecting to feel the familiar plush fur of the foxes who come to share your bed sometimes. But your eyes shoot open when you feel warm skin underneath your fingertips and you have to fight back the scream when you come face to face with a man you don’t recognize who’s groggily opening his brown eyes, your body scrambling backwards. Tangled in the sheets, you don’t get far and fear lances through you as you stare wide-eyed at the stranger beside you who’s...panicking even more than you are? 

You pause in your escape attempt as you take a closer look at the man who’s frantically wrapping your blanket around his bare body, brown eyes staring at you in fear which is strange considering this is your room he’s intruding in. Common sense tells you to be wary and yet there’s something familiar about his eyes and when you finally take note of his light gray hair tipped with black and the bandage around his arm, disbelief runs through you as you tentatively approach his huddled form. 

“Are you- are you the fox I took care of?”

Brown eyes warily observe you as you draw near, but they widen in surprise when your hand gently runs through his hair and you give him the same sweet smile you’ve always given him when he was in his fox form. 

“You’re not scared of me?” 

You laugh. “If anything, I’m more surprised than anything else. Care to explain?”

And spurred on by the hope that the human he’s come to love might actually accept him for who he really is, he is quick to tell you everything and anything and you listen in amazement as he tells you about shifters, how him and his pack are all fox shifters, how there are different types of shifters all over the world, how they’re much more common than humans realize. He tells you his name, Kita, and the names of every fox shifter you’ve met. He tells you about the awful history of humans hunting them down to sell on the black market which has led them to live as foxes, deep in the woods, away from any living soul. He tells you about how you’re the first human his pack has interacted with for years, the first human to gain their trust after years of loneliness, never being able to access or connect with their human side. 

There’s a brief moment of silence as you take everything in, still softly carding your fingers through his hair. But the lingering question in your head finally slips out. 

“Why did you reveal yourself to me now?”

And your lips quirk at the shy flustered expression on his face as he buries deeper into your cozy blankets. 

“I was too exhausted to keep my fox form after everything that happened last night.”

But before you can tease him a bit more, there’s a knock on your door and you panic, unsure how to explain the unknown man in your cabin. However, it seems that you have nothing to worry about when you spin around, only to see Kita’s fox form nonchalantly curled up in your bed, looking at you with his own smug amusement at your gaping mouth. You rush to the door, Kita padding after you, a slight limp from his front leg and upon seeing the sheriff through your peephole, you greet him, giddy with relief when he tells you that they’ve managed to apprehend all the poachers thanks to your tip last night. 

It never crosses your mind how strange it was that Daichi so easily arrested all the men despite your extremely vague directions and despite it being pitch black, but unknown to you, it’s easier than you think to maneuver through the dense night woods when you have wings. However, Kita’s more perceptive than you and when he scents the air, he looks in interest at the man who smells like a crow and brown and black eyes lock for a second as a hint of acknowledgement runs through Daichi’s eyes when the shifter inside of him sees the fox for what he really is. But it’s only a fleeting glance, too quick for your human eyes to notice, and Daichi parts ways, subtly nodding to the fox who’s currently laying on your feet before waving goodbye to you, leaving Kita and you alone once again. Well, maybe not that alone, you think, as a group of familiar foxes come racing towards the both of you once Daichi is gone. 

Life is chaotic, in a good way, but chaotic nonetheless after that. It’s a new dynamic for all of you as you try to merge your two worlds and ways of life together. It no longer phases you when you see glimpses of naked men running here and there as they shift between their human and fox forms and you’ve learned to always have spare sets of clothing on hand to quickly throw their way when they do decide to take their human shape for a spin. Atsumu has finally stopped whining about not being allowed to sleep in your bed with you anymore after Kita had put him in his place and your face goes hot when you remember exactly what had transpired during that conversation. 

When you had found out they were shifters, you found yourself being a little more self-conscious and self-aware around them. It seemed unbecoming of a woman to be sharing the same bed or changing in front of foxes that turned into handsome men and soon Kita was the only one allowed in your bedroom. Atsumu had howled and complained the first night that Kita slipped into your bed next to you, demanding to also be let in, questioning why Kita was allowed to sleep with you, especially in his human form. And suddenly feeling like a parent who suddenly has to explain the birds and the bees to their child, you grow flustered, unsure how to broach the subject. But sensing your panic, a large hand gently grabbed your chin, turning you until you were facing the serious countenance that you’d come to love, and in front of the still wailing younger man, he had captured your lips in a searing kiss before pointedly looking at a suddenly silent Atsumu. 

“That’s why,” he had calmly said, but before he could even fully voice those two words, Atsumu had quickly retreated, closing the door behind him and leaving the two of you alone. 

The two of you had skirted around directly talking about what was going on between the two of you, but that kiss had officially sealed the deal and you both stay up late that night, talking about your future life together, as his mate, as your boyfriend and it seems like unsurprisingly, Atsumu has run his mouth off and the whole pack is there waiting to congratulate you two on finally getting together the next morning. 

And now here you are, living in a recently expanded cabin, loud and full of bodies, both furry and human. You take a sip of your coffee, rolling your eyes as you hear the twins bicker, a slight smile on your face when you see Aran and Suna in their fox forms, napping on the couch, the others sprawled out here and there as they cook and eat breakfast. But it’s the strong arms that wrap around your waist from behind, the mouth stealing a sip from your piping hot mug before burying his face in the crook of your neck and shoulder that makes your heart flutter and you turn to kiss Kita, melting into his hold as you both survey your new family, your new home.   

[creativeashproductions]

A Distant Dream I // Luke Patterson

Summary: In 1994 seventeen year old Luke Patterson had once again tried to ask out the girl that held his heart. With the belief he would see the younger Mercer girl the next morning he decides wait to confess his feelings. Only to have soft music bewitched the reader into an antique wardrobe with lots of history.

Warnings: Swearing, strict parents, missing persons, cops, violence, death, and angst

Words: 3k

A/N: Finished one series, starts a new one then gets hit with a dream of a crossover with Narnia and JATP. My brain needs to stop.

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX/ASK PLEASE!

Masterlist

Patterson Home, 1994

The teen’s hands laced up her boots with her mind stuck on the successful dinner with the boy situated on the couch. His eyes lost in daydreams of the girl he had shared a sweet goodbye with, seeing her at school felt like it would be years. Luke Patterson was slowly building up to ask out the girl of his dreams.

You glanced over at the messy-haired brunette you had known for years through your older brother Alex. A year separated you from Luke and Alex, but it didn't matter to the bond you had with them.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Reggie’s picking us up.” You waved at the seventeen-year-old teenager cupping his cheek in one hand.

Unable to stay seated Luke rushed to tug you into an abrupt hug before just as quickly letting you go. Cheeks dusted pink Luke’s lips parted to form the words that could make one of his dreams come true.

"Would you…" Luke trailed off, feeling the confidence falter at the hopeful look in your pretty eyes, "Tell Alex that he still has that movie?"

The hope in your chest fluttered before it shuddered once more as Luke retreated from asking his question. With a nod, your fingers opened the door to walk down the streets to own home.

With one last wave Luke watched as you disappeared behind the trees in his front yard with the promise he’d ask her out tomorrow.

That chance wouldn’t happen.

That hopeful night in 1994 was the last night Y/N Mercer was seen. The night that it all started to fall apart in Sunset Curve’s lives.

The sword was thrust in the air as victorious cheers sounded over the hillside filled with the war's casualties. Chest heaving from the fight she had won against one of the Boggles in the White Witch's army. Your eyes scoured the battlefield for your friends you had made in the short time you had been in Narnia.

Across a great distance, you found Peter already beaming across at you as the adrenaline of winning overtook you. The happiness wavered when you saw the prone body of Edmund in the grass.

“No!” You shouted racing in the armour to the three remaining Pevensie children gathering around the youngest male sibling. The breath leaving Edmund’s body in the presence of his siblings he had made up with.

Let’s go back a few weeks to when your most significant issue had been the feelings for Luke Patterson. To when your decisions didn't include making battle plans with your new friends and avenging the death of Aslan; the talking lion.

Moments after leaving Luke’s place.

There was something about the night that soothed you from the disappointment in your body as being let down. Alex had been telling you for so long that Luke had feelings for you, but every-time you believed him it didn’t happen.

Once more, you had left the Patterson home with knowing if Luke liked you or not. Continuing to walk, you halted at hearing something. Soft music so unlike what you heard blasting from Alex's room or the gigs you attended to support the band. It was reminiscent of the music box that used to put you to sleep as a child.

"Hello?" You asked, shifting the beanie that slid on down your forehead a little. Your eyes peering around the silent streets.

The music grew louder as it entranced you into following the sound to a dilapidated building situated near older stores. So taken by the music you didn’t question why the door to the store was unlocked nor how a golden light shined from one of the antique wooden furniture.

“Come along.” A voice whispered from inside the imposing wardrobe.

Your fingers shook as you slowly pulled the door open with a creak that blasted around the darkroom. The first thing you noticed was the old fur coats hanging in the small wardrobe. The door closed behind you with a click, the golden glow dying as any suggestion she had been in the store disappeared.

The breath caught in your throat as the temperature dropped and somehow you found snow inside and trees. The crunch of snow beneath your boots surprising you but not as much as your hands pushed the branches away. Vision no longer obstructed you discovered a new world of winter and sunlight.

Standing not too far away you found four bodies of varying height staring around in wonder just as you had. The group turned on their heels at the sound of your boots crunching the snow.

The tallest of the group had honey blonde hair neatly cut and styled off his pale forehead revealing a startling pair of blue eyes. He was at least six feet tall as your estimation. His own widened at the sight of you before you took in the three other people with him—an older brunette girl standing over a younger brunette female. Set a small distance away was a young teenage boy appearing standoffish.

“I don’t suppose that is another one of your friends, Lucy?" The teen asked glancing down at the youngest of the quartet.

"No, but Peter maybe she's friends with Mr. Tumnus!" The little girl exclaimed already making her way to you when the other girl stopped her.

The next thing you noticed was their odd choice in clothing, the older boy Peter wore a light grey button-down with his dark slacks held up by suspenders. Not a single piece of clothing you recognized on people in your life.

“Lucy, she’s a stranger in a strange place.”

“This is Narnia.” Lucy stressed pouting, “Susan, it’s not polite.”

Susan's hand loosened at the reminder of manners, but with that, Susan pushed her little sister behind her. Peter stepped in front of his family to walk over to you.

"Hello, are you from around here?" Peter asked, coming closer, "I'm Peter Pevensie. This is my younger sisters Lucy and Susan. The boy over there is my little brother Edmund.”

The scowl on Edmund’s face twister further, “I’m not your little brother! I’m thirteen. Lucy’s the baby!”

“Edmund!” Susan admonished with a furrowed brow before stepping up with Peter, "What is this place?"

"Look, lady. I was walking home from my friend's place and heard this music. It's a little foggy, but I followed into an antique store." You spoke glancing at the winter wonderland that made you question if you had taken drugs.

“You’re American!” Lucy gasped rushing closer, “Why did you come to England? It’s it safer from the war in America?”

You stepped back in confusion, “I’m Y/N. War? In England? When did that happen?”

All four of the Pevensie’s stumbled back in shock at hearing that someone of your age being unaware. Susan finally took the time to take in your appearance a stark contrast to the modest, loose red and green tartan knee-length skirt. Instead, you wore a mid-thigh red plaid skirt over sheer black tights, but the most scandalous part of your outfit for Susan was your high neck black top that revealed your midriff.

“Are you daft?” Edmund questioned, stepping closer, his dark eyes pinning his angst on you, "We got evacuated from London because of it!”

Your eyebrows raised in response to the very posh accent berating you even as he was shoved back by Peter.

“You really haven’t heard about it?” Susan asked, confusing you further, but slowly it came together in your mind.

As a Mercer, you had expectations placed upon your shoulders to keep your family’s reputation in place. One of the expectations was academic excellence for your parents to boast about among their friends. To get them off your back, you studied hard with Alex in order to get away with the way you dressed and Alex being in a rock band.

Your eyes scanned the individuals' outfits before you while calculating the years London, England, was evacuated by war. A faint memory of sitting in your history class sparked on the action to evacuate mostly children. Operation Pied Piper. World War II.

"Can we go to Mr. Tumnus?" Lucy inquired, bringing her older siblings' attention to her shivering in the cool air.

“But we can’t go hiking in the snow dressed like this! Let alone Y/N in her clothing.” Susan protested also rubbing her cold arms. Peter simply strode back into the wardrobe, grabbing an armful of the coats still hanging in there.

“No, but I’m sure the professor won’t mind us using these.” Peter spoke, handing out a coat first to his siblings before turning to face you with a smile, "Would like you to join us?"

Your eyes turned to the tree hiding the door of the wardrobe to the place you knew. To return to the Mercer household where it felt stifling under the watchful eye of your parents. To a house that judged you for your dreams that went further than your parents' plans. To a boy that threatened to cradle your heart or shattered it to pieces with only a few words.

"I'd love to join you." You spoke sealing your fate by grasping a coat, but Peter stepped around to help you put it on.

The feel of his hands pushing the collar further rose a dust pink blush on your cheeks at the care he displayed. His blue gaze held firmly with yours before he shook it off with a throat cleared.

“Anyway Susan, if you think about it logically, we’re not even taking them out of the wardrobe.” Peter finished shoving the very last coat to Edmund to draw out the young boy’s discomfort.

"But that's a girl's coat!" Edmund whined offended at the fur pushed into his torso. His offended feeling rising at Peter's confirmation that he knew that too.

A cheeky smile expanded at the interaction that reminded you of Christmas mornings with Alex on who got to open the first gift. The sibling fighting that was never really as vicious as they felt like at the moment.

“To Mr. Tumnus’!” Lucy exclaimed skipping ahead of the group with Edmund trailing behind.

The Mercer home, 1994

Luke woke up with a feeling that last night had been his last chance to admit his feelings for his best friend’s sister. It felt like something had drastically changed from the previous smile he saw from you before you turned that corner. He made himself a promise he wouldn't break to shout his love from the rooftops just for you.

He couldn't wait for Reggie to pick him up, so he quickly grabbed his backpack to race out the front door. His plate barely in the sink before he was racing down the streets to Alex and your place. The grin of excitement faltered at the sight of a police car parked at the Mercer house's curb.

Mrs. Mercer sobbing in her husband's neck as a forlorn man, held his hat in his hands as he continued speaking. Luke's world lost colour for a split second before he found the blonde drummer collapsed on his knees, clutching his hair in his hands.

Then the colour leeched from Luke’s life as the once thought impossible happened.

"Alex, what's going on?"

“You!" Mrs. Mercer shouted, hearing the voice of the teenager that had taken something from the woman, "What did you do to her!”

Luke stumbled back at the heated glare from the mess of a woman so unlike the posh made-up woman. Alex was quick to push by his parents to stand shakily next to his best friend with splotchy red skin and swollen eyes.

"Luke didn't do anything! I saw her on the way home when I went to dropped that movie off at Luke's place." Alex smoothly lied to his parents saving Luke the exhaustion of a police station, and it would be the one lie that would go to their graves with them.

“My baby.” Mrs. Mercer screamed hands digging into the perfectly mowed green grass uncaring of the stains on her once immaculate elegant pearl satin slacks.

Turning robotic Alex ushered Luke down the street to the Wilson home they had turned into the band centre. Luke followed like a puppy into the open garage where Alex promptly collapsed into a fit of sobs and heavy breathing.

"She's gone." Alex cried, leaning into the sudden body hugging him with soft whispers in his ear, "Luke, Y/N didn't come home last night. None of her friends have seen her. My little sister’s missing!”

And just like that the world no longer made sense to the seventeen-year-old guitarist. The next year dragged by with running away from home. When Luke wasn’t writing music or sleeping in the studio, he was on the streets.

Clutching his favourite picture of you as he walked the streets asking if anyone had seen you while avoiding his own missing person’s poster.

Cair Paravel, Narnia

The sun rose over the land you had come to love and protect for as long as you could remember. Sometimes you hoped you’d see Aslan in the distance, but he had been gone ever since the coronation. The feeling of missing him shifted to something, no someone else you missed. It felt like a dream, and when the dream started to become clear, a hand brushed against your hip.

"Hello, darling," Peter spoke brushing a kiss on your cheek before his silky hair shifted on your skin to rest atop your own head.

A soft smile overcoming your features as his ring clinked against your own and you turned in your private chambers to stare up at him. Your hand brushing the stubble that had grown. Your eyes taking in his tanned skin from riding in the sun. For a second you swore his blue eyes flickered to hazel green.

Sometimes when you slept, you dreamt of a time where everything was different from what you knew here. Of a time when your heart fluttered for a man with hazel green eyes and a curtain of messy dark brunette hair.

“Are you alright?” Peter questioned leaning back to scan your features. It wasn't often, but he was sure you wandered off in mind.

“I’m feeling perfect.” You replied turning to wrap your arms around his shoulders, “I’m standing the arms of my King-“

“You looked beautiful tonight.” For a second, your personal bed-chamber melted away into a large room with poorly made decorations and lines on the floor of different colours. Instead of standing in Peter's arms, you found yourself moving to the music in another's arms. The same faceless person in your dreams.

"Maybe it's time we give Narnia an heir." With Peter's words, the world returned to the way it had left a bitter taste in your mouth, "What do you think of the name Luke?"

The name choked you with emotion.

Alex jogged into his sister's room, huddled over her white desk reciting information of her exam the next morning. His blue eyes lit up as he hurried to your side.

"What do you want, Alex?" You sighed turning to look at your brother with disinterest only wanting to ace this test. That way, your parents could rub in in their friends face on beating Sarah with the highest grade.

“I joined the band.” Alex beamed bringing your attention fully on him in surprise, “I’m tired of pretending to like classical music and wearing a suit that chokes me. I’m tired of having to play dress up in fancy clothes when what I want is that big pink sweater from that thrift shop. I’m tired of looking like they think a Mercer should look like. I wanna look like Alex, like myself.”

Your lips turned up at the passion ignited in Alex at the mention of three friends that had quickly become family. In welcoming Alex, they had welcomed you into the group as well. Luke being the closest friend you had that didn't care what you wore or what you said.

"You should come. You've never stayed to listen to them rehearse. Luke would love it if you came." Alex teased poking your side in the pale pink silk blouse and white knee-length skirt.

You were tired of pretending as well. You wanted to be the girl wearing a band shirt and ripped jeans. You want to wear what you wanted instead of what your parents expected. Instead of voicing a reply, you moved to the walk-in closet of designer clothing. At the very back hidden from sight was your chosen attire. In seconds you changed into one of Alex’s old band shirts tied in the back for a cropped shirt and your favourite pants.

A swipe of rebellious red lipstick to finish the look you followed Alex to his room with the large tree. You had no clue if the feeling of butterflies was from rebelling against your parents or seeing the teenage boy slowly stealing your heart.

“Not Luke.” You whispered to the man you had matured from an angsty sixteen-year-old to a twenty-five-year-old.

“Lucy may think we named him after her.” Peter joked retreating as the door to the chambers was knocked on, “I believe we owe Edmund a birthday feast.”

“I’d rather not live another year of his complaining.” You moaned lifting the skirt of your long midnight blue dress to exit the room. All thoughts of a former life disappearing like smoke once more.

King Peter and Queen Y/N took their time to the dining hall where the rest of their family was patiently waiting. Susan and Lucy sharing a smile at the topic that had been flooding the kingdom since the royal wedding two years ago. Narnia was wondering when High King Peter and his Queen would proudly show off their firstborn.

"About time. I thought we'd enter another hundred years before you two came." Edmund spoke from his chair, but instead of the same tone as the boy that first entered Narnia, it was teasing.

"Shove off and eat your cake." Peter laughed, keeping his hand encased in yours. All of them at ease with the only worry on the conflict that threatened the royals from the Ettinsmoor nation.

Part Two

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[erzaguin]

Huntmira After: Chapter 2

This is also available in Wattpad and Ao3.

“I’m scared,” mumbled Steve. “The look in her eyes is really unsettling.” 

"Why does she keep side eyeing us?"

"I don't think she's looking at us."

“Her laugh is creeping me out. I don't know how much longer I can take this.”

“Captain, maybe you should say something” suggested one of the guards in a hushed tone. 

It had been hours since the masquerade ball had ended. All of the guests had already left and they had been assigned with clean up duty with Kikimora supervising them. Although currently all of the guards were feeling extremely uncomfortable due to her current behavior.

She kept mumbling under her breath too fast and low for them to make out what she was saying. She kept looking around almost like she was expecting someone to jump out at her. She had an almost crazed look in her eyes which made her sudden bursts of laughter seem maniacal. The guards were afraid that she had finally lost it and would randomly attack one of them.

The captain looked at the other guards who looked completely disheveled by their commander's odd behavior. She let out a sigh before making her way to Kikimora. She was responsible for every individual in her unit which also included Kikimora. It was her duty to make sure everyone was ok no matter how much she didn't want to.

She cleared her throat to get Kikimora's attention "Ma'am…"

“Hehehe this is so wonderful?! The Golden Guard made a complete fool of himself.” giggled Kikimora “Did you see? One dance with a girl he just met and he turns into a complete fool. He was so embarrassed after I pointed out he had lipstick on his helmet that he went to hide in his room" laughed Kikimora.

So that's why she's been acting so weird. Kikimora always seems to lose herself when it comes to matters involving the Golden Guard. Though she was right about one thing after the dance the Golden Guard disappeared and nobody has seen him since. 

 "After tonight I’m sure Emperor Belos will realize how incompentet that  brat is and how I am clearly far superior." gleed Kikimora who looked to be doing a little jig. "You'll see that come tomorrow I'll be promoted!"

Hunter

"I can't believe that happened. Wait what if it didn't happen and it was all in my head" mumbled Hunter to himself as he continued pacing back and forth in his room. 

It had already been some time since the ball had ended and he still had a hard time believing that he had spent most of the night dancing with Em. He couldn't help but blush whenever he recalled the events of the night. 

"I can't believe I kissed her" the sudden realization almost completely filled him with dread. 

"What if she thinks I'm a creep now? She's probably mad at me," he was interrupted by a chirping sound coming from the small red feathered bird sitting on his bed.

Hunter's expression visibly softened at the sound of his companion. 

"You're right she did kiss me back," he said as he smiled to himself. "I still can't believe you tagged along."

In response he received more chirping sounds from his small friend. The little rascal had followed Hunter without him noticing. It wasn't until he had jumped on Hunter's head to meet Emira that he found out he had tagged along. Apparently he has been very excited to meet her after hearing Hunter speaking about her.

"You and I need to have a conversation about boundaries some time" noted Hunter as he took a seat on the bed next to his friend. 

". . .So do you think she likes me?" asked Hunter looking down at his boots so his friend couldn't see his eyes.

The question earned him a sharp peck to the head from his companion who seemed to be angry at Hunter's self doubt. He had never really liked seeing Hunter being down and now that he could understand him he made no attempt to hold back his opinions.

"Ouch ok I get it no need to be so aggressive." said Hunter as he nursed his head. 

His companion settled back down on the bed and started chirping away. Scolding Hunter for doubting Emira’s feelings for him especially after tonight. 

He had to give it to the little guy he really knew how to get through to him. He really helped in keeping negative thoughts away. 

Hunter took a deep breath to steady himself and released it. "You're right buddy, thanks," he said as he gave the little bird a gentle pat on his head. 

Just then there was a sudden knock on the door which sent the little palisman into hiding. It was important that nobody found out about the palisman. If Emperor Belos where to find him no Hunter did not even want to think about that. 

"Who is it?" responded Hunter after making sure his friend was out of sight. 

From the other side of the door came a voice that stated "Sir Emperor Belos wishes to speak to you." Hunter relaxed once he realized it was just a guard. 

Even though he had already changed into his regular uniform hours ago he still made sure that he looked presentable before stepping towards the door. If he was going to meet with Emperor Belos he had to make sure that everything was in order.

 Hunter opened the door to find one of the guards standing there doing his best not to make eye contact with him. "Thanks you are dismissed" said Hunter in an authoritative tone.

The guard, who seemed to have been startled by Hunter opening the door forcefully and closing it quickly behind him, gave Hunter an awkward solute before scurrying off. What can you expect even if he was young he was still Emperor Belos' right hand man. A lot of the guards felt intimidated being in his presence and Hunter’s deminor did not help to ease their nerves about him. 

As Hunter made his way to his uncle's throne room he kept thinking about how upset he must be. He was not surprised that his uncle had called for him. In fact he had been expecting it. He had completely disappeared after his first dance with Emira and never came back to his post. 

"Way to fo Hunter he probably thinks you were too embarrassed to come back out" thought Hunter to himself as he came face to face with the doors of his uncle's room. He was about to knock on the door before stopping. In that instant he was completely consumed by the sudden sense of dread. The realization that Emperor Belos might be angry at him had just hit him. He could be in serious trouble. What if he retaliated against Emira? He knew who she was? If his uncle was mad enough at him he could do it and get away with it. No, he had to make sure to keep her safe. Even if it meant never being able to see her again. 

He was brought back by the sound of the door in front of him opening. The small surge of defines he had felt at the thought of Emira getting hurt was completely overtaken by the fear he felt at that moment. 

“Come in Hunter” came a voice from inside the room.

Hunter hesitated for a moment before making his way inside and closing the door behind him.

“Come let me take a good look at you” said Belos as he becond his nephew forward. He was not wearing his mask anymore. He was dressed in his casual robes which was rare to see. Hunter always felt more comfortable speaking to his uncle when he did not have the mask on so seeing him now made his nerves settle a little. He made his way forward to his uncle who placed his hands on his shoulders. 

“So, you had your first kiss” noted Belos with a warm smile on his face and an almost childish joy in his eyes. Hunter felt his face grow warm and found himself at a loss for words. But just as fast he felt the blood drain out of his body.. Was he teasing him? How did he know that he had kissed Emira? Ed had created an illusion so that nobody could see them. How did he know? Did he see? Does he know about my palisman too? 

“I would not have thought you would have become smitten after just one dance and a kiss on your helmet” teased his uncle. “You know after that dance you disappeared but I couldn’t help but notice that so did she. Tell me, did you return to the party?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. 

If someone were to enter the room at this moment  they might have interrupted this as a tender moment between him and his uncle but the tension Hunter was feeling was so intense he could hardly breath. He was not sure if the kiss his uncle meant was the one Emira had given him in front of everyone. How much did his uncle know? Lying to him would be dangerous especially if he knew more than what he was letting on. Besides, Hunter had never been able to lie to him. 

“I..um… yes I did” started Hunter feeling his face growing hot again. “I wanted to ask her to dance not as the Golden Guard but as Hunter.” he mumbled, unable to make eye contact with his uncle. “Her brother created an illusion to keep us concealed and we ended up dancing for the rest of the night.” Hunter tried to focus all of his concentration on keeping his breathing steady.

“I see well I am glad that you followed my order to have fun” he said, placing a hand on Hunter's head, “but i'm sure that dancing was not the only thing you did.” added his uncle in a tone that made Hunter’s veins turn to ice. His mind was racing trying to come up with a response for his uncle but his thoughts were suddenly interrupted by his uncle ruffling his hair as he let out a warm laugh. 

“So you really did get your first kiss tonight?” he continued to laugh as he made his way to take a seat on his throne. “I have to hand it to you, you really do know how to follow an order.”

Hunter was beginning to feel light headed due to the emotional whiplash. He could never read his Uncle. Talking to him always felt like he was treading through a minefield filled with live and fake bombs.

“You know when I said that I wanted for you to stay safe it was not to punish you but to keep you out of harm's way. The titan has big plans for you Hunter so until the day of unity arrives you have to stay safe. So starting tomorrow you will be reassigned.” noted Belos in a somber tone. 

“But sir,” started Hunter but stopped as soon as his uncle lifted a hand signaling silence. “As I was saying, starting tomorrow your new mission will be to find the Blight girl..." Hunter felt his heart drop at his uncle's mention of Emira. A thousand thoughts filled his head in that instant but he clenched his fists in an attempt to restrain himself.  “...and ask her out on a date.” finished Belos with a soft smile on his face.

“Sir?” Hunter’s mind was spinning. Did he hear that right? No that couldn't be. Did his uncle just order him to ask Emira on a date?  

“Who knows how many days of peace we will know once the day of unity arrives. Go enjoy the few days you have left. Now go it’s late and I need my rest.” stated Belos as he dismissed Hunter. 

“Yes Emperor Belos,” responded Hunter with a bow before quickly making his way. He walked back to his room in a daze trying to make sense of what had just happened. Was he that disappointed in him that he no longer wanted to send him on missions? Or did he honestly want to keep him safe and happy. This was very unlike his uncle and Hunter was sure that there had to be a bigger motive for his actions. 

Upon reaching his room he confided in his palisman everything that had happened with his uncle. The small bird convinced Hunter to not overthink things and to ask Emira out on a date. 

“I don't know, it doesn't feel right to just send her a message. What do you think?”

The small bird responded to this with a few chirping sounds. 

“That’s actually a really good idea. I think she would like that a lot.” noted Hunter as he took out a pen and paper to write a letter to Emira. 

Once he was done he attached the letter to the small palismans foot. 

“Ok buddy I’m counting on you.”

[the-tactician-magician]

This is probably my favorite @flufftober2021 prompt so it's a bit more self-indulgent than usual lol. Also features non-binary Byleth to round out the genders!

Flufftober Day 24: Caught in the Rain

Rated G, Claude/NB!Byleth, 1423 words

“Has anyone here seen Claude?”

Much to their dismay, the Golden Deer shook their heads in tandem to falling raindrops. What was once a light drizzle was slowly but surely turning into a proper storm, and as far as Byleth knew, Claude was still out on a scouting mission. He wouldn’t have wandered too far from their base, but anything could happen during bad weather, so it was better to fetch Claude than to be sorry.

“Stay here. I’ll be back shortly.” Byleth told their students before spinning on their heels and heading deeper into the forest. It may seem odd for them to deny any extra help in their search, but they couldn’t risk losing more people. Besides, they were infinitely more experienced at tracking people in the wilderness, even as fat raindrops pierced through the canopy to splash on their coat.

To a mercenary like Byleth, rain was mostly a hindrance. It obscured their vision, chilled the air, soaked their clothes, made roads into a muddy mess, damaged objects left unattended… They could go on and on about the troubles rain wrought. Even so, they knew that rain was a good thing too. Without it, there would be no crops, no food, no life.

And, disregarding the stress it brought for a moment, rain was also soothing in a way. Back when they lived life on the road, Byleth would often listen to the pitter-patter of raindrops against canvas. Like it was a song telling them to sit back and relax, because there was nothing outside worth getting wet for. Then, once the rain died down, Byleth would leave behind the safety of their shelter to inhale the fresh scent of water, mud, and a world renewed.

Although as Byleth raced through the undergrowth, the rain proved to be more of a bother than a balm. Whatever tracks Claude left behind were drowned in puddles, and any moving signs of him blended in with leaves stirred by the storm. Yet when they stopped to take in their surroundings, their calming memories of the rain returned to them once more.

They breathed in the damp air. Breathed out furls of steam. Absorbed the sight of hypnotic ripples in rain puddles and the incessant drumming of raindrops on leaves. Their coat may be sopping wet and their boots may be caked in mud, but those annoyances were insignificant to them right now. All that mattered was the alluring song of the rain, almost coaxing them to forget about their wayward student.

Except they wouldn’t be so easily deterred. Mostly because if they listened hard enough, it sounded like the rain’s siren call was an actual song. As in, there was a real human voice behind it. And as impossible as it seemed, there was only one person here that would be singing so deep in the wilderness.

Byleth sprinted towards the source of the song posthaste. It didn’t end up being very far from their location, but what was more unexpected was the sight that greeted them. In the middle of the clearing was Claude, completely drenched and staring up at the heavens with a wondrous song on his lips.

The melody that poured forth sounded like it was in a foreign language, yet he sang it with such heart and conviction, Byleth felt like he understood it anyway. Its dulcet notes harmonized with the falling raindrops, and its sonorous tone echoed throughout the forest. Furthermore, the rain deflated his once-fluffy hair and made his clothes stick to his well-toned body, transforming Claude into a completely different person. Even his smile as he serenaded the stormy skies was unfamiliar to them. It was��� brighter. More relaxed. And it actually reached his eyes.

Byleth could have stood there for ages, listening to his song, but the impromptu performance came to an end when he tilted his head to the side and caught sight of them. With a jolt, the mysterious singer in the rain reverted back to Claude von Riegan, the leader of the Golden Deer House and extraordinarily surprised to see his professor.

“Gah! Teach!” Claude shouted. “What are you doing here?”

Still somewhat entranced by his song, it took Byleth longer than they would’ve liked to reply. “I… was looking for you. Getting caught in the rain can be dangerous.”

“Ah. I appreciate the thought, but I’m perfectly fine. One might even say I’m right as rain.” Claude winked at his own pun. “What about you? It looks like you got soaked too.”

“I’m fine.” Byleth said while suppressing a shiver. Just because they were used to bad weather didn’t mean they couldn’t feel the cold. They didn’t want Claude to notice that though, so they sought to distract him by switching to a different topic.

“What was the song you sang just now? I never heard of anything like it.”

Claude’s cheeky smile fell away in an instant. Byleth almost felt guilty asking after it, but it was too late to take back their words.

“Mmmm. I was kinda hoping you didn’t hear that, but I guess I got carried away.” Claude smiled again, although it looked less earnest than before. “I’ll tell you if you promise not to repeat it to anyone else.”

“I promise.” Byleth nodded.

Even with the reassurance, Claude hesitated before explaining himself. With a sigh, he said, “There’s hardly ever any rain where I come from, so when it does rain, everyone gets really excited about it. Some people even sing songs as thanks, like the one I was singing.”

“But you’ve seen rain since coming here, haven’t you?”

“I have, but that doesn’t make it any less exciting.” Claude shrugged. “Water is a precious thing, you know? All life depends on it, and yet it sometimes just falls out of the sky for free. That’s kind of a miracle in and of itself.”

Byleth nodded again in understanding. They just had that line of thought earlier, during their search for Claude, so it was nice to hear that they shared the same opinion. And speaking of things that were nice to hear…

“Your singing was beautiful too.” They said. “Also a bit surprising, since you don’t sing as well during choir practice.”

“Ouch, Teach. You don’t pull any punches, do you?”

At Byleth’s somewhat bewildered look, Claude chuckled under his breath. “Just kidding. I know what you mean. Let’s just say that I only sound pretty with songs I care about. Which is probably for the best, since we don’t want our divas to raise a fuss about being upstaged, right?”

Another wink, followed by a more earnest expression. “But seriously, thanks. I’m glad you like my little show. Now that you know one of my many hidden talents, maybe I can hold an encore just for you?”

Byleth studied over every dripping and sopping inch of him. As much as they would like to say yes, it would be irresponsible of them to delay their return to their camp. So they instead walked over to Claude in silence, much to his confusion.

“Maybe later.” They replied as they started to take off their coat. “We need to head back now.”

“Uh, Teach? What are you doing?” Claude asked.

“You’re going to catch a cold like this, so I’m giving you my jacket. Here.”

Byleth draped their ashen grey overcoat over Claude’s head. They also tried to pat his hair dry, in an attempt to fluff it up to its former glory, but it was much too wet for that. They would need to take shelter, preferably back at camp, before Claude could start looking like himself again.

A faint blush appeared on Claude’s face as he clutched his new coat. Hopefully he wasn’t coming down with any illness. “Not that I don’t appreciate this, but what about you?” Claude eyed Byleth and their own utterly wet clothes.

“I’ll be fine. I’ve traveled in worse conditions. But if you didn’t grow up around rain, it’s better for you to take my coat.”

“That’s, uh…”

Claude sounded like he had a witty comeback on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed it at the last second. “Well, if you say so. That just means we have to head back quickly, for your sake.”

Byleth hummed in agreement right before Claude hooked an arm around theirs. With little warning, save for a big grin on his face, he dragged them back into the woods, their feet marching together and to the beat of the rainstorm’s song.

[soartfullydone]

@editoress asked: @zacksfairest and Lemuel on a rooftop, please.

*

“They’ll have to come out sometime,” Cassie said to Lemuel, who was pacing behind her. Stalking, really, but at least he had the courtesy to do so far enough away from the edge of the roof without blowing her own cover.

“We wouldn’t have to do this at all if we were in the air, Theron,” he snapped, some of the first words he’d spoken since joining her.

“Diva’s a bit easy to spot,” the Semon woman pointed out neutrally. He was being irrational, and they both knew it.

Lemuel released an impatient scoff, but he didn’t argue the point. He’d been stonily silent and in a foul mood from the start, but Cassie hadn’t pressed his buttons on why. This was more of a stake-out than a reconnaissance mission, meaning at least one of them needed to pay attention while the other was bored to tears. Or fuming up a storm.

That’s what she told herself, but she also wasn’t in a hurry to discover the truth.

Cassie shifted into a more comfortable position on her stomach, a pymaric lens magnifying her vision, so she could see into the windows of another building farther down the street. A popular Soud eatery in the district even at this late hour. Its interior was lively with lamplight and people, all with matching golden hair. It was also where a couple of March sympathizers had begun to frequent over the past week, and this night was no exception. Two hours ago, Cassie had watched the pair of Laurent siblings enter while looking over their shoulders, the worry clear in the furrows between their brows, but that wasn’t what had identified them.

It was the fact that their eyes were not green like most Souds but a rare gold, like those of the man suddenly crouching beside her.

“Is this really,” Lemuel said, bitingly sharp, “how you want us to spend the night together, Cass?”

Lowering the lens, she shot him an alarmed look, followed by a glare to mask her racing heart. “There are traitors down there.” And because she thought it would remind him of both their places, as soldier and commanding officer and within separate castes to boot, she added, “Sir.”

“Not even if I was quick?” But Lemuel exhaled, his strange mood abating. His keen gaze turned to the eatery, and devoid of any humor, he said, “They’ll all be corrupted at this rate. We should just raze the building.”

He said it so simply that it had to be a joke. Gooseflesh broke over her skin anyway. “Our orders are only to capture the siblings, quietly. We’re not here to make a statement.”

“Everything is a statement,” he argued but fell silent.

Cassie returned to her task, but her mind was only half in it, her thoughts turned to the captain beside her. He had been acting odd and restrained for awhile, but now, he was being downright erratic. He wasn’t shaving as often, and his eyes were more bloodshot than not. He also wasn’t trimming his golden hair anymore, allowing it to creep past his shoulders.

She would chalk it all up to grief for his brother’s murder, if he hadn’t been behaving unusually even before then.

“How is Mikaila?” Cassie ventured. “Now that she’s walking again?”

“Aye, she’s a fighter, that one. Doctor had to practically hold her down the whole way, the poor sod.” Lem smiled for the first time that night, full of pride, but that was all he said.

“And Leysa?”

His smile vanished. At last, he replied, “What do you think? She misses her husband.” His mouth twisted. “And doesn’t deserve enduring the one she’s going to get.”

So the Adelier family’s period of mourning was officially over, by legal standards. Cassie asked, “Who did they decide?”

“Oh, Theron! Did I not tell you? I’m getting married.”

Her stomach might’ve dropped less if someone kicked her off this roof right now.

Before she could string together a response, Lemuel tensed and barked, “Eyes up!”

Cassie scrambled for the lens and refocused it on the eatery’s door, where two people were coming out.

“Is it them?”

Nondescript working class clothes, but that same white scarf tied around the woman’s hair. When the woman glanced up at the darkened sky, Cassie adjusted the lens further, until she saw the golden glint of the Laurent sister’s eyes. “Yes!”

And madman that he was, Lemuel leapt off the roof.

*

“Damnation!” Cassie cursed as she hurtled down the street. Her boots weren’t silent against the stone ground by any means, and her sword clanked against her armor, which pinched something fierce where she was pumping her arms. She rounded the corner of an alley in a skid, desperately trying to catch up to where she’d seen Lemuel’s green half-cloak disappear. When he and their targets were nowhere to be found, she cursed again.

They were supposed to be doing this together! She trusted her captain, but if they lost the two Souds, Cassie would face even more consequences than he. One slip-up large enough, and the powers-that-be could decide the Lions of Mercy was no place for a woman at all.

Little light filtered into the alleyways between buildings. Cassie was halfway down one when she could finally make out that it was a dead end. She gritted her teeth and turned back, taking a new route, but there was still no sign of Lemuel or anyone else. 

Seeing no other option, she opened her mouth to call his name when she heard a wet, guttural scream. She was pulled to the sound like it was an irresistible Silver who’d gazed at her a beat too long. Her pounding heart had little to do with running and adrenaline, though she could’ve sworn her limbs were lighter, her legs moving faster.

She trusted her captain, aye, but Lemuel wasn’t entirely himself tonight.

When Cassie rounded the next corner, she tripped over the body. Her legs sank into pliant flesh, and her hands caught her fall, landing in wetness that was a hair too viscous to be water. Her stomach roiled, and with a disgusted cry, she tore herself away from blood and body—male, Soud, dead. Even though her bulldozing into him had turned his face into the ground, Cassie absorbed all these facts in a snap. What she was struggling to understand was the rest of the scene before her.

Lemuel had the Soud woman pinned to the wall, one sword—Kossaul—through her shoulder, the other—Ataret—through her stomach, which he currently held fast. At some point, he had ripped the scarf from her hair and stuffed it into her mouth, muffling her screams. Cassie watched in horror as the woman’s gaze found Cassie over Lemuel’s shoulder, her golden eyes pleading and full of hate. Then the light in them faded, and her body went completely limp. She, too, was dead.

“C… Captain?”

When the only living Soud in the vicinity didn’t so much as twitch, Cassie took a tentative step forward and tried, “Lemuel?”

Nothing, and then… Lemuel expelled a long breath, though it didn’t cause him to look at all diminished. He reached up and yanked Judgment from the woman’s shoulder. Last Word followed, blood spurting as the body slumped to the ground. Cassie saw that the woman’s eyes were still open, her face stained by tears and blood. The end of the scarf in her mouth trailed down to graze her chest.

“What took you so long, Theron?” Lemuel said unperturbed as he produced a cloth to clean his blades. He was practiced at this, tucking one sword under his arm as he cleaned and sheathed one blade before attending to the other. “All that meticulous preparation and you missed the main event.”

That snapped her attention to him. “All that,” she agreed sharply, “because our orders were to capture them. Remember?”

“Had to be done,” Lemuel countered with a blasé shrug of his shoulders. “Unless you’d rather your captain had gotten Core Leeched tonight. Fucking pymary.”

“What?”

“The man could cast. Bit of crucial intel you forgot to tell me.”

That’s because there hadn’t been any indication that the Laurent brother was a wright. If he had ever been Rited, that information would have bypassed Cassie and gone straight to her commanding officer. “Even so. They were meant for interrogation. If anything they said could’ve led us to the main group—”

Lemuel released a bitter laugh. “If only the rats were that stupid. But I do admire your unfailing optimism.”

“Don’t condescend to me, sir.”

“Well,” he said, lips curling. “It’s better this way. Let any who think to join the insurrectionists know that we’ll give no quarter to traitors. No chance for escape or bargaining. Just a horrible end that amounts to less than shit in a gutter.”

It wasn’t that she disagreed, but… Cassie clenched her fists at her sides, holding her tongue.

Lemuel noticed. He raised an eyebrow that challenged as much as it inquired. “Think you could’ve done better, Miss Lion? Should I not have defended myself, so you could have the glory of avenging me?”

“Of course not.”

“Then wipe that look off your face before I do.”

He strode past her like two dead Souds weren’t even there. Like she and him were back on the training grounds, merely fencing with words after a friendly spar. But that was a long time ago, and there was nothing friendly about the atmosphere now.

Cassie stared long after his back had faded into shadow and his footsteps had receded. She would corroborate his account to their superiors, of course she would. She had no other account to give, and she trusted her captain.

And yet…

Did I not tell you? I’m getting married.

She clenched her eyes shut, willing her tears back. When she was certain the fit of sentiment had passed, she opened them again and saw that the world had finally slowed down, allowing her to process everything. 

The man she loved was marrying his brother’s widow. Of course he was. That was expected of Lemuel, as it had been of countless other men before him whose brothers had left behind grieving wives and children. Cassie didn’t know why she had ever expected any differently. This would be the best move possible for the Adelier family, the best way for them to adjust without Duane Adelier in the picture.

Yet a part of her was heartbroken, again. And a part of her knew that Lem preparing to marry Leysa was not what had set him on edge tonight. He understood his duties as well as Cassie. She had the sense that, once again, he was keeping something from her, something dark and dangerous.

Cassie regarded the Laurent sister, not quite with grief in her heart but certainly regret. She was a traitor, and Lemuel had treated her with extreme prejudice after her brother had reached for sloppy pymary to attack him. Cassie couldn’t say she wouldn’t have done the same thing as her captain; she wasn’t ready to meet Ssael yet.

If only this woman had chosen a different route, she would be alive now and maybe, impossibly happy. If only Cassie had risen as a guiding star to her earlier, a woman warrior glorifying Ssael with sword and deed, then maybe Laurent would have seen the March wasn’t her only option. That there were ways to change one’s country without betraying it.

And maybe her brother would not have led her so astray. Cassie walked past his body when she abruptly paused, thoughtful. Not about the body cleanup or their funeral rites, if they would even receive either. Rather, she examined the man lying prone atop street trash, having choked on his own blood. Prodding with her foot, she kicked him until his empty eyes beheld the night’s distance stars.

Her blood turned to ice.

His eyes weren’t golden. They were green.

[biggest-stupidhead]

Path Walker (Levi x OC)

Summary: Levi bites off more than he can chew by taking in a young street rat.

AN: I’ve been toying around with the POV of this series so around the 8th part the POV changes to third person, I am really lazy rn but when I get the motivation to I will come back and edit these parts to match, sorry if that bothers you! 

Word Count: 1.7K

I remembered feeling cold, laying in my usual alley I clutched onto the rag that I used as a blanket. I was only 9 years old, hungry and homeless, and now I was dying of disease. I was pitiful, balled up on the ground, laying in the mud. I vaguely recalled a boot tapping my hip, I flinched away, certain it was a Military Policeman.

"Oi, are you...alive?" the cold voice sent shivers through me, he sounded mean. I stayed still, my eyes wide with fear as I thought of the stories the other children had told me of men. The men in the underground took what they wanted. So I figured it was better if he thought me dead.

"I can see you breathing, what is your name?" he asked as he knelt down beside me. I allowed my head to turn and meet his eyes for the first time.

"Emory" I said, but it hurt to speak, my throat felt like it was made of razorblades and lined with gravel. The man raised an eyebrow at the sound of my frail voice.

"Where are your parents Emory? Is there somewhere I can take you to get taken care of?" the man pressed, I shook my head my eyes watering as I thought of how lonely I was. He sighed and stood back onto his feet, he rested his hands on his hips and looked back out onto the quiet street.

"I'll take you home with me, but once you're better you'll be back on your own." the man said, he stooped down and scooped me into his arms. I whimpered when he tossed the rag off of me with a look of disgust.

------------

When I woke up I was in a bed, my hair was tied back off of my face, and a warm wash cloth was being pressed to my rosy cheeks. I licked my lips as I tried to sit up, a young girl pushed me down back into the stiff mattress.

"Don't try to move, just let me take care of you." she said, sounding a bit more aggressive than caring. I said nothing as she passed me a mug full of an earthy smelling liquid.

"It's tea, it'll make your throat better." she said as she held the mug to my lips. I opened my mouth and accepted the drink, my eyes widening as the flavor hit my tongue. She was right, even as the liquid went down my throat I already felt better. I sighed as I rolled over, I couldn't remember the last time I had felt this warm and cozy. I felt clean, my skin smooth rather than grimy, I was wearing an old but clean night gown, I smoothed my hands over the soft fabric in awe. The girl giggled and gently pushed me back into the pillow.

"If a grouchy man comes in don't be afraid of him, he just has a weird face." the girl said before getting up and taking out the tray of tea.

"What's your name?" I croaked, she paused by the door, her green eyes gleamed in the orange candlelight.

"Isabel." she said sweetly before exiting. When she opened the door I could make out the sounds of dishes clattering and a water pump being used. Odd, I must be in a nicer part of town for the home to have a pump. Usually multiple families had to share a water pump. I strained to hear the conversation through the door, I could at least make out 3 separate voices, one I recognized as Isabel, and another as the man who had collected me. The third voice spoke little but when he did it sent chills down my spine. Finally the pump stopped, and I could hear what they were saying.

"We can't keep her Farlan, she's just another snot nosed brat, if we go around picking up every kid we see we might as well open an orphanage." the voice hissed, silence followed his words and I cowered back into the pillow, pulling the blanket up so I could hide my face.

"Not fair Levi, I'm sure she can be of some use to us! Plus she's rather cute." Isabel said, followed by the sound of footsteps on the old wooden floor.

"I don't care what the brat looks like, we can barely feed ourselves no need for another mouth to feed." the third voice, Levi snarled. The room fell silent and I felt ice run through my veins.

"At least go look at her before you tell us we can't keep her, say it to her face that you don't want her." Farlan, the man who I presumed had initially brought me here said, matching Levi's venomous tone.

"Fine." Levi scoffed, I heard the sound of approaching footsteps and burrowed deeper into the covers. My heart raced when the door slowly creaked open, light spilling into the dim room.

"Oi, come out of there." his voice was close, definitely standing off to my left. I flinched when I felt his hand close around the blanket and pull it off of me. I yelped and snatched the corner before he could pull it away from my grasp.

"F-fuck off!" I squeaked, something that I had picked up off the streets, not that I knew what the words meant but other than to leave me alone. His eyes widened a fraction when I spoke, one of his thin eyebrows arching as he took in my appearance. I barely registered the sounds of muffled laughter as Farlan and Isabel chuckled in the doorway.

"Where did you learn to talk like that?" Levi asked incredulously, I shuffled backwards on the bed to put some space between us.

"It's what people tell me when I get too close to them." I admitted, whenever I would approach adults and sometimes older children they would use those words. Levi scoffed and sat down in the chair Isabel had occupied earlier.

"You shouldn't talk like that." he said, a frown etched deeply into his delicate features. I furrowed my brows, I had never had anyone tell me what I should and shouldn't do, I had grown up an orphan, only vague memories of my parents.

"You're not my dad." I said a wave of emotion overcoming me.

"No I'm not, and that's why you can't stay here, you don't belong with us." he said coldly, he stood and brushed past the pair in the doorway, who stood in shock as you watched him disappear. Isabel rushed into the room and sat on the bed, a sympathetic look on her childish face.

"I- He- I'm sure he doesn't mean those things, he can be a bit... shy when meeting new people." she said as I looked up at her expectantly.

"He does have a weird face." was all I said as she struggled to excuse Levi's harsh words. Farlan snorted and sat down in the chair next to the bed, his blue eyes turning soft when he took in my thin wrists.

"I'm sure he'll come to tolerate you." Farlan said, placing a hand on my back, he grimaced when he felt the ridges of my spine through Isabel's nightgown.

"Man kid do you want something to eat?" he joked despite the sick feeling that blossomed in his gut. I nodded and leaned into his touch subconsciously, he smiled and stood to go get me something while Isabel crawled under the covers with me.

"How did you end up all alone?" she asked as I settled into her side, my head resting on her chest.

"I dunno." I said, too focused on her heartbeat to listen to her question.

"Are your parents not around?" she pressed, I shrugged.

"Can't remember." I sighed as I nuzzled into her. She inhaled sharply when I let out a little sigh.

"Emory, please tell me what you know so I can help you." she said gently, craning her neck to get a glimpse of me.

"I don't know who my parents are, or where I came from, just that I'm here." I shrugged, breathing in Isabel's lavender scent. She tensed at my words and gently placed a hand on my shoulder.

"I'm sorry... how long have you been alone?" she asked quietly.

"Since forever." I said. Before Isabel could say anything else, Farlan returned holding a small loaf of bread.

"Here, I don't want to give you anything heavy incase you barf, that would be a waste." he chuckled as he handed me the bread.

"Oi you better not be feeding that brat in my bed, she'll get crumbs everywhere." Levi raised his voice slightly to berate you from the other room. Farlan smiled and pushed the bread into my hands, Isabel sat up and pulled me along with her. I bit into the bread not surprised to find it a bit stale. Farlan sat down on the end of the bed and watched me wolf down the bread.

"Slow down little girl!" he laughed as he watched me finish off the bread and wipe my mouth.

"That was good, thank you." I said before nestling back into Isabel. Farlan smiled, already feeling attached to the spirited girl.

"How old are you Emory?" Farlan asked, leaning forwards on the bed to get a peek at my face.

"Uh... I think I'm 9?" I said my face screwing up in frustration as I thought about my age.

"You think?" Farlan asked, raising an eyebrow and letting a smirk crawl onto his lips.

"Yeah, I'm not so sure but my friends are 9 so that must mean I'm 9 too." I said, quickly tiring of all these questions. Farlan laughed again, Isabel swatted him in the shoulder, jostling me as she sat up.

"Quit laughing at her she can't help it!" Isabel scolded. Farlan stuttered out a feeble apology as he struggled to stop laughing. But by the time he managed to apologize I was already slipping into the best sleep I would ever have. Isabel shushed him as she pulled me closer and rolled us onto our sides.

"I'm sure he'll warm up to her, how can he not? She's damn funny." Farlan said as he watched Isabel hold me close. She nodded in agreement as she brushed her fingers through my golden locks. I sighed in my sleep, feeling safe for the first time in my short life.

I miss them.