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daycourtofficial · 10 months ago

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It’s all in my head but I want nonfiction

Pairing: Lucien x reader | WC: 3.7k | warnings: suggestive language, groping

Summary: emboldened by an accidental love potion, you speak your crush on the Day Court heir to him

Author’s note: happy (late) birthday @tsunami-of-tears no one loves a love potion as much as we do 🫶🏻 lowkey hate this ending but whatever it is what it is ❣️

The Day Court Palace was, in your opinion, the prettiest place in all of Prythian. Large archways led the way to wide open rooms, beautiful columns stretching towards the mural painted ceilings. Every room had a skylight, even rooms with floors above them. Moving through the rooms felt like you were on a cloud traveling through the sky, a chariot pulling the sun through its cycle.

Everything looked so beautiful in the sunlight, and you felt like a reptile lounging in the sun whenever you were in the heir’s proximity. You had hardly spoken to him - he was your High Lord’s son and you were just a librarian in the ‘botany and related subjects’ library, however you had seen him on the rare occasions you had been in the palace, and more recently, whenever the redheaded heir made his presence known with his barking laughter through the shelves.

How you dreamed of making him laugh.

As if the Mother were listening directly to your thoughts as you shelved books away, you turned to find him standing next to you, the suddenness of his presence causing you to almost fall from your ladder. His hands shot out, one steadying the ladder, the other steadying your back. You weren’t sure if the heat on your cheeks was from being startled or from the heat on his hands.

Once he deemed you steady, he held out a hand for you, helping you down the ladder. You moved down it before you stepped off the last rung, face looking down to help stabilize your footing.

You looked up, finding you were much closer than you intended to be, your body a few inches from his body. From afar, he was beautiful, but being this close to him - he was gorgeous. His long red hair looked as if it were glowing, and all you wanted was to reach out and run your fingers through it before braiding it. His canines peaked out from his lips, a small smile on his face. His face was the perfect combination of sharp and soft - making him both stunning, but giving him a kind appearance.

You had watched him slowly get used to Day Court attire, incorporating different aspects over time. He began slowly with wearing more loose, billowy clothing, golden rings on his dark skin. Now he stood before you in a white braided toga that left his legs on full display, golden strapped sandals adorning his feet. Golden cuffs adorned his biceps, making the muscle even more worthy of your gaze.

“Hi, Lucien.” You nodded slightly with your head, the customary greeting in Day for nobility. Helion preferred more subtle ways of respect, once telling you, “I prefer if I’m going to be worshiped to be worshiped properly”. You extended the greeting to Lucien, and to your surprise, he returned the small bow back.

“May I be of any assistance?”

He peered down at you, his russet eye roamed over you, the golden one clicking taking you in. You swore the whirring picked up in speed as it roamed your body, your temperature rising a few degrees at the attention.

“Yes, you may. I actually was wondering about your knowledge on teas. It is a fascinating subject, is it not?”

Your face couldn’t contain your shock at his question. Teas? Why tea?

“Well, I quite enjoy various teas and different court traditions around tea.”

You eyed him, his nonchalant demeanor giving nothing away. The High Lord’s son wanted to talk to you… about tea?

You blinked and suddenly you had spent over half an hour blubbering about what kinds of teas are popular in which court, and you came back to your body to find yourself telling him about the Autumn Court’s tradition of spiking their tea with whiskey.

“Naturally, you might know about that. Not because of the alcohol, surely you don’t have a problem or anything like that, but you’re from Autumn, so surely you know about their traditions and such.”

You wanted the ground to swallow you whole, but you couldn’t stop talking, your mouth incapable of offering you reprieve from how poorly you’ve handled this. “I’m sure you drank a lot of tea in Autumn. Not just the spiked kind, or maybe that’s how you were able to get by all those years - through alcohol.”

Your cheeks were blazing with heat, your bottom lip caught in your teeth, eyes stuck on the floor in hopes it would open a hole in the ground for you to fall through. “Um, my friend- colleague over there needs me. So um, good day, Lucien.”

You bowed quickly to him as you ran past him, not allowing time for him to bid you farewell. You spent the next few hours flitting about the library, recataloging academic texts on botanical reference guides in an attempt to stop your mind from replaying the atrocious conversation you had had with Lucien just hours prior. Each time you remembered it, you lightly hit your head against the shelves.

A few hours of mind numbing work later, your mind still possessed with thoughts of the redhead, you eventually were able to go home, spending most of the evening in your bath reading, any attempt at getting the redhead off your mind failing.

Your mind was just as preoccupied with Lucien as you walked into the library the next morning, taking the final sip of your coffee as you passed by the circulation desk, when a note on the counter piqued your interest. The note sat next to a cup of tea, the drink steaming in invitation. The envelope had your name on it with the royal seal on the back of the envelope. You opened it, careful not to destroy the beautiful seal. Neat handwriting in red ink covered the parchment in a simple note that left your heart fluttering.

After our discussions yesterday, I had some unresolved curiosities. Can you meet me in the courtyard behind your library this afternoon?

- Lucien

Your eyes danced across the note, reading and rereading it to make sure you hadn’t imagined it. He wanted to speak to you again? Despite your terrible attempts at conversation previously, he didn’t find your company appalling enough to talk to someone else in your stead.

You sipped the tea as you read the note - the warmth trailed down your throat, your stomach buzzing as you took in the bergamot flavor. You tried to figure out what tea this could possibly be, perhaps Lucien found a new flavor of tea he wanted you to try.

You smiled, tucking the note into your pocket as you spent the rest of the afternoon floating on the air around you, unbelieving of your luck. As the day went on, your head grew a subsistent ache, worsening by the hour until you were set to leave to meet with Lucien. Your head was pounding beneath the lights, but you wished one of the other librarians, Sara, a good evening, telling her you had a meeting. She giggled as you retreated away, her voice soft through the stacks, “don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

You rolled your eyes, throwing behind you, “sure, because what wouldn’t you do if Helion asked?”

You laughed at her squeaked response, but continued down the hallways and down the stairs, having to lean against the wall to steady yourself on occasion. You took deep breaths, trying to silence both the dizziness and the butterflies in your stomach. Once you were close enough to smell Lucien, the leather and bergamot scent filling your nose, the pounding in your head lessened with each step closer, instead your body grew warmer and warmer at his proximity.

You stopped at the sight of him, his back to you allowing you a moment to ogle unnoticed. He wore trousers today, slight disappointment at his legs being covered quickly corrected by how plump his ass looked in them.

Your tongue was fat in your mouth, and your thoughts stumbled through your mind in a drunken haze.

“You’re s’pretty.”

The words rolled off your tongue, a drunken slur to them. Were they your thoughts? Did you say them out loud? You couldn’t tell as you approached him, trepidation in your steps. You watched him turn to greet you, an amused glint in his eyes.

“Is that so?”

You were slow to react, your hand just now reached up to cover your mouth as if it could take the words back, your eyes wide as you looked at him. It was then that he took you in, his eyes roaming up and down your body, assessing if he could see anything wrong.

“Is everything alright? You’re swaying.”

Your cheeks heated at his concern, some tiny part of your brain chastising you for being so responsive to the bare minimum. You nodded, your hand still over your mouth. His arms stretched out on both sides of you, hovering around you to catch you.

“S’okay, you just make me feel good.”

Your words came out mumbled through your hands before Lucien gently pulled them from your face.

“Sthanks, I wouldn’t have gotten them off myself.”

Your words were drawn out, each syllable taking its time to be heard. His face grew more concerned, but you paid it no mind.

“You wanted to see me?” You had tried pointing to him and yourself respectively, however your motions were flipped, pointing at yourself and then towards him. You giggled as if you were a schoolgirl speaking to your friends. His sharp canines peaked beneath his top lip, his smile wide but predatory.

He nodded his head, “yes I wanted to speak with you some more, but now I’m-”

His words were cut off as you moved forward, hands producing a tight grip on his jaw. “I like your pointy teeth, they look like they could bite me.”

He smiled as you inspected his mouth, relishing in the squeal of delight you let out when he moved his lower jaw, allowing the tips of his canines to be seen. You tried pulling his lips down even more, but his hands grasped yours, placing them gently on his chest. He held your hands over his heart, looking into your face, his voice soft, “what happened today?”

You got lost in his eyes, getting lost in thought about the prosthetic one. Something in the back of your head kept yelling at you that it sees lies. “Well, I um,” a hiccup sounded from your throat, disrupting your train of thought momentarily. “I woke up, I walked by that coffee shop I like, got a cup to go. Then I continued walking to work - here - and then I got here. Well, not here, here,” you gestured around the room, “but over there,” now you pointed in the direction of the library.

“And then I got your note and I read it lots of times and I even checked the signature because surely you wouldn’t want to be subjected to my rambling again and then I drank the tea you dropped off with it and then I thought about the note while I restocked-”

He shook you lightly, one of his hands cupping your face. The action startled you, not having heard him calling your name. “Sunflower, what was this tea I dropped off?”

Your face lit up, remembering the way it felt going down your throat. “It was so good. You have great taste in tea.” You nuzzled your face into his hand, nodding profusely. “It did make me dizzy, though.”

You couldn’t for the life of you get your eyes to focus on him, the male before you appearing more like an impression of himself. His red hair and golden prosthetic were the only things you could really make out, and even then it was mostly colors.

He studied you for a moment, leaning in closely to examine your face. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

His hands supported your shoulders as you leaned into his chest, the two of you making a slow walk through the streets of Day. If you were in your right mind, you would be absolutely mortified at the way you were snuggling your face into his chest, obscene moans coming from you as you inhaled his scent.

“At least buy me dinner first, I am no common whore.”

Your laugh was delayed as you moved to be directly in front of him, your arms wrapped around his slim waist.

“Y’smell good.” Your words were muffled through his shirt, but the vibrations from his laugh extended to you, making your body shiver.

“I think your moans were more than enough proof of that. I was getting concerned you might get off on my scent alone.”

You giggled, not really understanding what he said, but enjoying the amusement in his voice. “I’ve had my fun, let’s move at a regular pace, shall we?”

You squealed as he picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder. Your hands moved to his trousers, grabbing the fabric to help stabilize you. You pushed your elbows into his back, trying to lean up a bit.

“Where are we going?”

Your hands moved around his back, trying to find stability when your hands sink into the skin of his ass. You giggled as you pinched him, causing his steps to falter briefly.

“Getting a little handsy back there, are you?”

You answered with some giggles and squeezing him, only causing him to laugh again.

Lucien carried you to the outside of the library before winnowing you into the palace. You babbled from behind him as he strolled through the halls. You had given up trying to see your surroundings, leaning your head into the middle of his back. The white and gold marbled floors moved beneath the two of you, Lucien only butting into your rambling occasionally.

He expertly moved the two of you through the hallways, going deeper into the palace than you had ever been before when Lucien pushed open a door, leading the two of you inside. He slid you down from his shoulder, flopping you onto the bed. You landed in a massive bed, swimming in a lake of a deep brown duvet.

You giggled as you bounced across the bed, “Lucien, at least take a female out to dinner before you bed her.”

He stood before you, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “I have to go speak with someone, will you stay here? Can I trust you?”

You nodded enthusiastically, bouncing a little in excitement. His hands came down onto your shoulders, causing you to stop your movements. “I won’t be long, I’ll come back with food.”

He ran a hand over your hair before walking away, disappearing through the door. You laid down on the bed, stretching your limbs out as you basked in Lucien’s scent.

Being in his room, surrounded by his scent for the thirty minutes he was gone did something to you, sending you into a state of utter euphoria that caused the rest of the night to go by in an utter blur.

You groaned, burying your face into the pillow. It was too bright, the sun was too much, your head was killing you. The door opened and you instinctively pulled the duvet up to your shoulders to cover yourself. Lucien’s head popped through the door, carrying a box of some kind with two steaming mugs on top of it. He set them down on the nightstand next to the bed, crawling on top of the duvet covers next to you.

You eyed him curiously, clutching the duvet tighter. “What are you doing?”

“What am I doing? This is my bed.”

You moved your head around the room, finally realizing that it was not your own. Your eyes moved about the space, taking in how odd it looked. It was an array of colors - the brown duvet, the green curtains, the red tapestry on the wall. Next to the tapestry hung several maps of Prythian, including markers filling certain areas. You moved closer, attempting to crawl off the bed, but your legs got caught in the sheets, causing you to slump back onto the bed.

Lucien laughed, causing your head to throb again.

“Why am I in your bed?”

“Do you not remember?” You shook your head, the action making you dizzy. You opened your eyes just slightly, scowling at the amused look on his face.

“The healer said you had had a love potion. After some questions, we found out one of the other librarians was trying something new with her husband and left the potion to cool. It seems she left it to steep it for too long, and it was less arousing and more drunken.”

You nodded, looking to the floor, feeling so small in his bed. Thank the Mother you weren’t rubbing against Lucien as if you were in heat.

Your eyes widened, remembering how you did rub up against him, clinging to his body the whole night. Lucien’s voice picked up a lilt to it, his amusement growing as last night came back to you in bits and pieces as he spoke.

“I brought you food because you refused to eat last night. I was only able to get a small piece of cake in you. You are quite afraid of being poisoned.”

A brief memory flooded your brain, making you feel even worse.

Lucien stretched his arm out, offering the piece of cake to you. “Will you please eat something? It would make me feel better.”

You shook your head furiously, making yourself slightly dizzy. “You’re trying to- to tie me to you. The food’s been-” a hiccup broke up your words, “poisoned for me to fall madly in love with you and spend my days gazing about your pretty face.”

He raised his hands, glancing around the room before his eyes settled next to him. “Fine, I poisoned it. But this chalice,” he raised a glass, sloshing the liquid around, “is also the antidote to this yummy cake.”

He held a bit of the piece out on his fingers, waving it in front of your face before you took the piece into your mouth, licking his fingers as you did.

Your face heated as you remembered that was how he fed you the rest of the cake. You slipped under the cover even more, hiding your face. “Excuse me, I have to.. die.”

His laugh was loud in the room, and you felt his body weight shift on the bed. “I would prefer if you could die elsewhere other than my bed. I am quite fond of it and I worry you may haunt the room.”

He laughed, poking your side. “Don’t worry, sunflower. You were incredibly endearing all night, even when your hands were a bit.. Adventurous.”

You shot up, the duvet coming off you as you looked at him. “Adventurous how?”

“Well, at one point you insisted you could only sleep if you could be touching my ass.”

You moved to get out of the bed, “that’s it, does this room have a balcony I can fling myself from?”

He reached out, grabbing your wrist stopping you, pulling you back into him.

“Would you really be so dramatic? I didn’t even mention the biting.”

“The biting?” You screamed out before putting a hand up, “no, don’t tell me. I can only find solace in death now.”

“You have quite the powerful bite.”

“Lucien, stop.”

“I have a chunk missing from one of my legs.”

“Lucien.”

He gazed about the room, his finger on his chin as if in contemplation as he leaned back against the headboard. “I suppose it’ll match the prosthetic eye. Perhaps I could have another eye placed there…”

“Is my mortification amusing you?”

“Greatly.”

You slumped back onto the bed, rolling over to hide your face in the duvet. You could hear Lucien nibbling on something before saying, “I am quite flattered at how pretty you find me.”

“I hear Winter’s great this time of year. Perhaps I’ll trek the continent for a beautiful lake to drown myself in.”

“Are you always this dramatic when you wake up? I’d like to be aware for future endeavors.”

You sat up quickly, situating yourself to look at him, your legs tucked beneath you.

“What future endeavors?”

“Well, if I have any luck, this won’t be the last time you slept in my bed.” He bit off another piece of cake, paying no mind to the short-circuiting happening in your brain. “Unless you’d prefer your bed. However, last night you proposed marriage to my bed, so…”

He trailed off, but you were stuck, mind reeling with his words.

“Why would I sleep in your bed?”

“Has no one told you?” He smirked at your quizical look, his tone growing serious as he said, “when two people are attracted to each other-”

His sentence was cut off by the pillow colliding with his face. “That’s not the part I was confused about.”

He cleared his throat, dusting away any crumbs before turning toward you, his gaze focused solely on you as he said, “I thought I made it fairly clear I wanted to speak to you because I found you beautiful and I have always had a thing for librarians.”

You blinked at him. “I thought you were merely interested in tea.”

“I don’t even drink tea. Can’t stand it. You happened to be in the tea section when I found you.”

As if your brain shut down at the information, you just looked at him, brain clearly still foggy from the potion you drank.

“Then why were you-”

You thought towards occasional bits of that discussion, how he had spoken more than you remembered, his words teasing. “Were you flirting with me?”

“That was my intention, however you hardly stopped for breath when discussing tea. I was so caught up, I had to run off to meet with an advisor in the nick of time.”

“Are you flirting with me now?”

“If I were flirting with you, surely you would know. Perhaps I’ll warn you in advance next time, so you can prepare yourself.”

He stared out the window, his eyes bright in the morning sunlight. “May I flirt with you in a moment’s time, or will you merely attempt to curl up and die again? Perhaps you’d prefer official correspondence with my flirtatious intentions?”

Permanent taglist: @vanilla-seabass @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @topaz125 @chessebookgirl @fides25 @lady-of-tearshed @ashbatz @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @justvibbinghere @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mybestfriendmademe @heartless-tate @tsunami-of-tears @idrkwhatthisisimsorry @olive-main @azrielsmate3 @pit-and-the-pen @durgenyx @dee-writes-smut @chairofchaos @thelov3lybookworm @berryzxx @throneofsmut @kennedy-brooke @prythianpages @itsswritten @acotarxreader @milswrites

Thanks for reading ❣️

#acotar fanfiction #lucien x y/n #lucien #lucien vanserra x y/n #lucien vanserra #lucien x you #lucien x reader #lucien vanserra x you #lucien vanserra x reader

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wife-of-all-dilfs · 1 year ago

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white wine | f. odair

(part two of red wine)

part one

summary: another celebration in the capitol leaves you and finnick in an argument that threatens to strain your friendship.

pairing: finnick odair x reader

warnings: reader’s pov, flirting, angst, argument, struggling finnick :(

notes: i don’t know if i like this, let me know what y’all think! final part will be out in a few days.

word count: 1.6k

A Sphynx cat dressed in a white suit scurried beneath your feet, disappearing around a vine-covered pillar in the courtyard of the Presidential Palace. Fairy lights were hung on every tree, bush, and pillar, providing light in the growing darkness of the evening. Orchestral strings played in a small band off to the side, so beautiful that it sent goosebumps prickling across your entire body. People were dressed to impress, though to you, they looked more ridiculous than impressive.

The 72nd annual Hunger Games had come and gone, and a tour was held for the victor whose name you had not bothered to learn. At last, the infamous grand celebration in the Capitol had arrived.

Months had gone by since your night of red wine and white cats. Parties had not been in short supply since then, meaning your meetings with Finnick remained regular. But something was off about him. Something you couldn’t place no matter how hard you tried.

Winter snow was beginning to stick to the ground, blending with the pure white gown you were wearing, gifted by the generous president. If purity and innocence were what he was going for, he probably should’ve chosen a dress without a plunging neckline. The proof was in the pudding. Or rather, the voice of the heartthrob from District Four.

“That dress is quite distracting.”

Sauntering toward you came Finnick Odair, a playful grin plastered on his face. Just like you, his outfit only consisted of white. A billowy V-neck that dipped down to his navel, paired with white dress pants and a golden netted belt.

“Finnick.” You smiled, your dull mood lifting from his presence. “So, he got you too, huh?”

“What? You don’t think I look dashing in white?” he teased.

“I think you look dashing in anything.”

The words just slipped out, supposed to only remain a thought. Finnick was a flirt, through and through. You hardly ever entertained his flirtatious manner; rebutting with either attitude or timid silence was more your style. So, the last thing you needed was for him to take your words to heart, however genuine they might be.

He blinked in surprise, only to quickly laugh it off. “Thank you, but I don’t think the spotlight will be on me tonight,” he said, his eyes scanning your dress from head to toe, then settling back on your face. “I hate to admit it, but Snow knows beauty when he sees it.”

“Snow knows everything,” you replied sarcastically.

And there it was again. That out-of-character shift in his demeanour. Like a storm cloud had suddenly rolled over head, dampening the mood with its gloomy presence. This was becoming a more frequent occurrence each time you saw Finnick and you were desperate to know why. What had changed?

Sunshine broke through the clouds again in the form of a splitting grin. “Unfortunately, so,” he said, brushing the topic aside as though it were nothing. “Would you like to dance? Give them a taste of real beauty?”

You couldn’t say no.

The instrumentals had slowed to the tempo of an assumed waltz. Although you had been trained in social etiquette, dancing was not your strong suit—unless you counted drunk dancing. With this knowledge, Finnick took the lead, his hand gently cupping your waist, another interlocking your own, and you followed his simple steps until you found a comfortable rhythm.

“I have got to know who your dancing instructor is,” Finnick quipped, his tone full of jest. “He’s got to be pretty talented to be able to teach you how to dance. Undeniably attractive too, considering your incredibly vain nature.”

You playfully rolled your eyes. “I can’t seem to recall his name. Not very remarkable. Phineas was it? Or maybe it was Finnley.”

“That hurts, sweetheart.”

“Truth hurts, Odair,” you said, sending him a teasing smile.

He chuckled, the dance continuing smoothly. “You’re getting better,” he said, his voice now sounding sincere.

Before you met Finnick, fitting in with higher society was a struggle. All of their customs and etiquette seemed so foreign to you, especially since you came from a lower-ranking district. But as he meticulously wound himself into your web, he brought with him an abundance of knowledge which he happily shared with you.

You had spent countless hours together, learning different subjects such as how to keep conversations going, the art of seduction, and even dancing, even though you never quite got it down.

Times came when dangerous situations arose—conferences with President Snow, meeting obsessiveCapitol citizens, and being given unreasonable demands. More than once, Finnick saved your life through his guidance. You owed him everything and more.

Heat spread in the places his hands touched you, subduing the slight chill of the winter air. You would expect someone from District 4 to be cold, as the ocean was like a second home to them, with their days spent fishing, swimming, and collecting underwater vegetation in the cold depths. Despite this, everything about Finnick radiated warmth. His bronze hair was like the embers of a dying fire; his skin was fiery upon touch. Even his smile was sunny, always beaming like a golden ray of light.

Slowly, the fairy lights transformed in colour, highlighting the luxurious scenery and both yours and Finnick’s clothing. White turned to green, accentuating the striking colour of Finnick’s eyes which gazed down upon you as your bodies swayed together. After green came a colour that turned your dress a deep crimson.

“This one’s my favourite,” Finnick said, his voice so melodious it sounded like a part of the orchestra.

“Why is that?”

You felt his hand glide to your lower back and your knees almost buckled.

“Because—” The music swelled before its end and he gracefully dipped you as if to emphasise his answer— “you always look stunning in red.”

Everything went quiet. The music had ended and all you could hear was the sound of your heartbeat thumping in your ears. Beautiful sea green washed over your body, enveloping you in complete serenity that resembled the feeling of floating beneath the ocean’s surface. Finnick was there with you, holding you in his arms, his eyes penetrating deep into your own—sea-green serenity.

You lowered your gaze to his lips, admiring the pink colour and velvetiness. It was a dilemma you constantly struggled with—having a crush on the Finnick Odair. The Capitol’s Darling. Everybody wanted him; some actually got him. You heard whispers of his little adventures in the Capitol, how a select few would get to spend the night with him whenever he visited.

There was no judgement on your part; Finnick was your closest friend. And that was all he would ever be, making you the most envious of them all. Condemned to forever wishing to be something more than platonic. Always being the one watching from the sidelines. That was the singular thing you had in common with the people of the Capitol.

But in that fleeting moment, you were undeniably certain no one had ever yearned to kiss anyone more than you yearned to kiss Finnick. Your heart lurched when his eyes flickered to your lips and suddenly, you were questioning whether or not he felt the same. When he started to lean in closer, your heart just about exploded.

But before anything could happen, you realised that the waters were infested with gossip-hungry sharks, waiting for their moment to strike.

Soft murmurs were echoing around you, reeling your harsh reality back into existence. Finnick too noticed and pulled you back into a standing position. His hands dropped from your body and without a second glance, he took off in the opposite direction, leaving you momentarily in shock.

“Wha—Finnick!” you exclaimed, trailing after him.

You weaved through the crowd of engrossed bystanders, ignoring their hushed whispers and unwavering stares. Finnick had climbed two of the marble steps leading up to the mansion before you reached out and grabbed his white sleeve, forcing him to face you.

“What, Y/N?” he snapped, wearing an expression that was a mixture of frustration and hurt. The usage of your real name took you aback. He would always call you ‘sweetheart’ or some other term of endearment. Hardly ever your name. “What do you want?”

You shook your head, confused as to where his sudden hostility had come from. “What’s going on with you?” you asked, searching his eyes for anything that would help you understand, but there were too many emotions for you to decipher. “Whenever we see each other it’s like something is weighing you down. Sometimes you can’t even look me in the eyes and then other times you’re asking me to dance with you and flirting with me. I don’t understand, is it me? Have I done something?”

He clenched his jaw, shaking his head as he averted his gaze. You let out an exasperated breath, lowering your gaze to his chest in frustration. The brilliance of his white shirt caught your attention and a troubling thought popped into your mind. “Has Snow done something?”

His eyes snapped to yours, a silent command to lower your voice. Descending one step, Finnick leaned down, towering over your body. His voice was low, “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

In one last attempt to break through his barrier, you slid your hand into his. “Then explain it to me,” you pleaded. “Please.”

The inner turmoil was evident on Finnick’s face. His gaze softened but the deep worry lines were still etched into his skin. For a moment, you believed he was finally going to lower his walls. However, your hope was diminished as he exhaled a long, weary breath and said, “I wish I could.”

And then his hand slipped out of yours, disappearing entirely as he ascended the stairs and left you at the bottom, defeated.

tags: @bellamybellamyblake @teigo-the-explorer

part three

#wife-of-all-dilfs ✍️#finnick odair #finnick odair x you #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair smut #finnick odair imagine #sam claflin #the hunger games #catching fire #mockingjay #peeta mellark x reader #peeta mellark #katniss everdeen

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brotherwtf · 4 months ago

Note

could we maybe get Christmas eve by the fireplace sex with Gale and John? Like with red wine and the Christmas lights twinkling in the background? Like the snow falling heavily outside or something EEEEE

AGGHHH CLEGAN BEING SOFT OH MY GODDDDD brb crying rn

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Christmas wasn't anything special to Gale. It usually came with increasing nightmares and promises that were all for naught, every night leading up to the "happiest day of the year" made him itch with the cold and fear. He never got any presents, not for Christmas or his birthday, and so he didn't expect anything when he and John were finally together after the war.

Because to him, being with John was better than anything he could wish for.

The snow was falling in beautiful billowy clouds and flurries, piling up on the windowsill as the fire crackled before them. Gale and John sat on their shag rug, one John had pawned off of a neighbor, hands linked together in the soft material. Gale didn't drink, but he had an almost full glass of wine with dinner and another half glass sitting on the coffee table behind them. John's already three glasses deep and he's leaning into Gale's space, pressing his nose against his temple and smiling, muttering incoherently to himself.

"John... what's going on, baby?" Gale hums, hand coming up push John's hair back, smiling at him gently.

John hums again, caressing Gale's cheek with his hands and pressing a kiss to his nose.

"Just happy... so happy to be here with you, in our house, getting ready for Christmas, can't wait to show you what I got you, baby," John says, kissing across Gale's cheek and nose, looking into his eyes loopily when he pulls away to just hold his face.

John looks at him like Gales his everything, like he hung the stars and created the world, and Gale finds himself almost squirming under his gaze.

"Lemme kiss you, Gale. I wanna kiss you so bad," John says and he almost sounds like he's begging.

Gale could roll his eyes but he finds the glass of wine has softened him almost, made him less anxious and keyed up and he smiles, eyes crinkling as he leans in and takes John's lips, hand coming up to his cheek and running his thumb over his cheekbone.

John sighs into it and holds Gale's head in his hands, tilting his head so he can almost immediately deepen the kiss. Gale breathes heavily against him, opening his mouth for John to slide his tongue inside, easily moving against Gale's as one of his hands slides down to Gale's waist, a thumb pressing into his hip. Gale sighs and lets himself be touched by John, lets John push him down onto the shag rug in front of fire, lips never leaving his.

Gale's warm, and he can't tell if it's from John's body heat or the lapping tongues of the fire, but he lets out another sigh when John slides his hands underneath Gales shirt and lifts it above his chest, moving his lips from Gales and trailing them down his neck before pressing kisses on Gales chest, worshipping it like he would an idol. Gale squirms, a hand tangling into John's hair as he huffs, his own hand creeping under Johns shirt so he can try to desperately pull it off.

"Off, come on John, want this off," Gale almost begs, pushing John off of his chest and tugging on it himself.

John chuckles and easily takes it off, Gale following suit before running his hands up John's stomach and chest, pulling him by his neck back to his lips and kissing him deeply. John's deft hands easily flick open Gales belt, pushing his slacks down, urging Gales hips up with his hand so he can pull them off. John pulls away and looks down at Gale in awe, a dumbstruck expression flicking across his face.

"Fuck... Gale... you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, like a damn angel sent down from the heavens, just for me. You're all mine, right baby?" John mutters and Gale nods, nods desperately closing his eyes and moaning high in his throat when John's hand finds his aching cock.

His hips buck up into John's hand and John bites his lip, watching it spring back into place as he takes Gale's cock in his hand and tugging it on a few times to make Gale whine even more.

"Please, John, I need you, please..." Gale pleads and moans open mouthed when one of John's fingers circles his hole, pushing in oh so gently.

John's so gentle with Gale, and Gale could cry, he does start to tear up when he thinks about how softly John is holding him. Holding him like he's something that could break, oh so tender in front of their shared fire. Tears start to stream down his face when John presses another finger in, his cheek pressed to Gales as he slowly fucks his fingers into him, unclasping his own belt and shirking his pants and boxers down.

When he takes his fingers from Gale he turns to look at him and kisses the tears away, pushing his hair back and pressing kisses to his cheeks and forehead.

"It's okay... it's okay baby," John whispers, taking his cock in his hand and pressing into Gale, groaning as Gale clenches down on him and sobs gently.

It's so warm and safe, here with John, even as he starts to grind gently into him all Gale can think about is being here with John in front of their fire, snow falling quietly outside but not penetrating their walls, Christmas lights that John insisted hanging up twinkling above him on their mantle when he throws his head back. John's chest is pressed to his and he wraps his arms around John's shoulders to hold him even tighter as he fucks into him.

His cock is trapped underneath John's stomach and he keens in his throat when it rubs against John's stomach, tears continuing to stream down his face as John's lips press into the hollow of his neck. John's hands are bracketed around Gale's head, fingers tangled into his hair as his thrusts get slightly faster, shifting Gale against the rug beneath them both.

He can feel heat roiling in his gut as he approaches his orgasm and his moans get louder as John's thrusts get deeper, thrusting up into that spot that makes Gale's jaw drop open and a long litany of sweet and beautiful noises coming out of his mouth.

"I'm close, doll, come on, come for me," John groans and Gale nods breath coming in short gasps as he comes on his and John's stomachs.

John comes shortly after, arms shaking as Gale feels himself get filled with John's come. They both pant and Gale finds himself smiling even through the tears and he runs his hands across John's shoulders when he finally collapses on top of Gale.

"Was that your gift, John? Not very original, are you?" Gale teases and John lifts himself up just so he can playfully glare at Gale.

He pushes a wayward strand of Gales hair off of his forehead and just smiles at him, something loopy and full of so much love Gale finds himself dizzy with it.

"Nah, but I can't tell you yet, it's not even Christmas," John whispers and kisses Gale gently.

Gale's about to protest when their little clock above the mantle dings it's melody for midnight and Gale just raises his eyebrows at John.

"Not Christmas yet? I think it's Christmas now, baby," Gale says and John pretends to be exasperated.

John kisses his forehead again and smiles cheekily down at him.

"Well I ain't telling yet, besides, what did you get me?" John asks and Gale pantomimes zipping his lips closed.

"If you won't tell me until the morning, then you don't get to know my gift either," Gale whispers and finds himself giggling when John sighs and hangs his head onto Gale's chest.

"You're no fun, you know that, Gale?" John says and Gale can't help but smile.

"But you love me anyway, right? You're stuck with me," Gale mutters and smirks when John just rolls his eyes and pushes Gales hair away from his face again.

"I love you more than anything in the world, helps to be stuck with such a pretty face, I guess," John jokes and Gale's cheeks hurt from how much he's smiling.

They don't get much sleep that night, too busy lazily kissing and finishing their second bottle of wine to even get up and get back to their bed. But it wasn't so bad, here in front of their fire, together.

goodness gracious this one got away from me

#clegan #mota #buck x bucky #john egan #gale cleven #asks

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etherealeowyn · 5 months ago

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"It's going to be okay" - Elrond (Rings of Power) x Fem Reader

When taking a walk in the woods surrounding Eregion, Elrond and Y/n come face to face with danger.

Angst + Fluff

Word Count: 863

My requests are always open, so feel free to message me if you have an idea! I'll write for any character from The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, or The Rings of Power!

As the sun regressed behind the dark, billowy clouds, the once-vibrant hues that decorated the lands appeared dull. Everything was still, unnaturally still. It was bizarre for a riparian environment, such as the one the elves were occupying, to be so devoid of life. The birds were not chirping, and Elrond noted there wasn’t a single fish that could be seen in the river as they had followed it to their destination.

“Something is off,” Elrond spoke, turning his head towards Y/n. “I’m sure of it.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” she responded uneasily while moving closer to him.

Just when those words had escaped her lips, the heavens decided to open and drops of rain began to fall upon Middle Earth. Briefly, they stopped in their tracks and gazed up at the overcast sky, feeling the sensation of the cold droplets hitting their faces. Elrond gently pulled Y/n’s cloak over her head, preventing her hair from getting soaked, before raising one of his hands and wiping the water off her face with the pad of his thumb.

Interrupting the moment, the cacophonous cawing of a crow cut through the silence, making Y/n tense up and stare at Elrond with worry prominent in her eyes. Similarly, he looked at her, both aware the crow was a sign that orcs would be there sooner than they would like.

Distorted voices began to sound from the tree line, and an arrow whistled past the couple, lodging itself in one of the oaks behind Elrond. He didn’t get the chance to say anything to Y/n, rather he just grabbed her hand and began to run with her through the forest. She didn’t hesitate to follow Elrond’s lead, for she trusted him with her entire being, and she knew he would do everything in his power to keep her safe. Y/n would certainly do the same for him, though her skills with the blade were considerably worse than his.

Suddenly they stopped, and Elrond pulled her underneath a fallen tree that he prayed would be completely and utterly invisible to the orc’s eyes. He grabbed his sword and tightly gripped it, desperately hoping that the orcs wouldn’t get close enough where he would be forced to use it. Elrond attempted to push away the guilt that was currently rising within him, when he had first embarked on this walk with Y/n, it didn’t even cross his mind that they would come face to face with danger.

Though she was filled to the brim with fear, she knew good and well that the more afraid she appeared to Elrond, the worse he would feel about the situation. The last thing that Y/n wanted was to be the reason why his mind was clouded and unable to function to the best of its ability in the case of an attack.

“It’s going to be okay,” she whispered, reassuringly placing her hand on Elrond’s thigh.

“Yes, it will,” he responded, his voice sounding shakier than he had planned.

She grabbed his free hand and began to rub it with her thumb, and she could see the elf become visibly less tense. Y/n didn’t say anything else, fearful words would only worsen the situation. Plus, she didn’t want any orcs to hear them and find their location.

A mixture of harsh voices and footsteps could be heard semi-close to where the pair were hiding, and neither made a single sound. Even their breaths taken were hushed fearing that the orcs' ears would be attentive enough to find where they were even from that slight sound.

Elrond watched as Y/n’s eyes fluttered shut, blocking the unfolding situation from reaching her. Instead of closing his eyes, he stared at her, tracing every inch of her face with his grey eyes, knowing that it was the best distraction in Middle Earth.

When the rustling of leaves and other things around them had stopped, Elrond figured that the orcs had left, but just in case they were still close, the pair sat under that fallen tree for about an hour. Verbally they didn’t say anything, but the way their bodies were pressed against each other said more than words could convey.

When the rain had lightened, Elrond felt as if the coast was clear to try and escape back to the city of Eregion.

“Y/n, it should be safe to head back now. I haven’t heard anything in a while,” he whispered, watching as she opened her eyes, relief replacing the fear that was once hidden within them.

She nodded in response, still nervous to speak, since they weren’t certain that all the orcs had retreated from the area.

Elrond got up and scanned the tree line around them, not seeing anything unusual. He let out a sigh of relief before stretching his hand towards Y/n, who immediately took it and let him pull her to her feet.

She wrapped her arms tightly around his body, nestling her head into the crook of his neck, deeply thankful for all he had done for her. He returned the hug, letting some guilt he carried dissipate now that they had made it through the worst of the situation.

#elrond #elrond x reader #elrond imagine #elrond fanfic #the lord of the rings x reader #the lord of the rings #the lord of the rings fanfic #the lord of the rings imagine #the rings of power #the rings of power x reader #the rings of power imagine #the rings of power fanfic #rings of power #rings of power x reader #rings of power imagine #rings of power fanfic

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desertskiespodcast · 8 months ago

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I like the desert at night. It’s so loud and alive. It’s so dark and mysterious. I got so many good and harsh memories of it. And the daytime and morning and sunsets too. It’s all glorious. It’s the place where death and life meet in the most abundant of terrible and remarkable ways. You got buzzards flying over roadkill while roadrunners cross the highway like a raptor. You got these big beautiful saguaros looming over you like old bored gods while seemingly open to little wrens living inside it because that’s what you do for the little guys. There’s these mesquite trees that have the skin of someone who’s been smoking for 89 years but still manages to audaciously pull off the wearing of green leaves in the middle of a 20 year drought. You got lizards who do pushups and all these spiders and snakes and tarantulas and centipedes and fire ants. Little warriors everywhere. And then, just when you wonder how the desert could survive another day you see a giant mess of dark billowy clouds roll in and they pour out their rain like a sponge being wrung out in ferocious fashion. You find me another place as magic as that and I’ll eat my damn hat.

#desert skies #arizona #monsoon #cacti #audio fiction #audio drama

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pixeldistractions · 28 days ago

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August

There were two weeks left before the revised date of Stephanie’s wedding, which had Jordan occupied outside, much to Maria’s disappointment. She'd missed him while he was away with his boys. For the kitchen staff, it was still too early to start food preparations for the wedding, so their workload was the regular fare—catering orders and supper club prep. She wasn't too busy to steal five minutes to go find him.

The weather couldn’t be more perfect, and everyone hoped it would hold for the wedding, but it was still too far out to know for certain. The barn was scented with the light fumes of fresh paint. Those would dissipate in the next two weeks. Banners of gauzy ivory chiffon draped the ceiling between hanging pendant lights. The lights weren’t turned on yet, but Maria knew when they were, it would be breathtaking in here.

Jordan stood at the back door, gazing out, absently, somewhere beyond the trees.

She stood next to him. God, I missed you, she wanted to say. Did you miss me, too? Did you remember me at all?

Instead, she booped his pink nose and said, “You’re sunburned.”

Oh, god, Maria, she said to herself, did you actually just boop that man on the nose?

Yes, she did. Thankfully, he didn’t look unamused by it.

“Heh, the sun hates me,” he said.

He was pink on the tops of his ears and the back of his neck. Elsewhere, too, she imagined, vividly. Perhaps his strong pink shoulders were striped by tank top straps of freckled ivory. But that was just a guess. Or a fantasy? He was still staring off at the horizon. She wondered then what he was thinking about—something weightier than sunburn, surely—but it didn’t take long before he filled her in.

“Isn’t it funny you can barely see the lake?”

“What?”

He pointed to a gap between the trees. “Look, it’s like a sliver. On the website, it says the hotel has lake views. Do you think that counts?”

Under a crystal clear sky, you could see the cerulean blue of Lake Michigan. Only just. A tiny sliver of blue between scattered trees under the billowy telltale marine clouds. “I never checked the website before,” she said. “Is that what it says?”

He nodded. “It’s like, this majestic life and you only get a glimpse of it, a little bite. Like all these tourists, sure they’ll drive the one-point-seven miles to the lake. It’s only a couple minutes in the car. But it’s just such fraud. Don’t get too tempted, don’t enjoy it too much. You’re just going back home to live your standard life again. What’s the point? Might as well forget it even exists.”

She stared at him, unsure what to say. Then, as if his own heaviness had become too much to bear, he said, “I’m still kind of hungry. Drake’s tacos are just lettuce.”

He looked like he needed a hug, but she also remembered he didn’t like it when she did that. So she wouldn’t.

“Fancy lettuce and sadness,” she quipped.

He sputtered with laughter, and a smile came to his face, a desperate one. It felt like, thank you, it felt like, save me. Better than his grave ruminations about the lake and life and the futile unfairness of it all. He gave her brain whiplash.

"So obviously you need to tell me all about the trip."

So they sat, and recounting the adventures brightened him a little. The kink party with real live furries. She would have died to see it. To be honest, she wouldn't have been above putting on a costume herself. Not a bear one, mind you, but it sounded kind of fun. Especially if Jordan was there. He told her about the incredible views, the grueling hikes, the rain and the sunshine. He’d texted her most of this from the road, but to see his face now, pink with sunshine and happiness, she loved to see him smile. It was the most charming thing.

"…and Milo brought home twelve different species of bugs."

"You said bugs? Twelve species, so like, more than twelve bugs?" Maria cringed.

"They're the most fascinating things," Jordan said. "But Colette lost her mind when we brought them all in the kitchen. Obviously we weren’t gonna leave them there, but it stormed pretty bad that day and they couldn’t stay outside in the cardboard boxes."

"You know, I actually can’t fault her for that." Maria shrugged. "But you should build him a little shed, so they can live outside."

Jordan nodded. "Yeah, that’s just what we were thinking."

“I bet a shed would be no problem for you, considering the whole barn. I love what you’re doing with this. It’s beautiful. You did a really good job.”

“Hmm,” he shrugged, terrible with compliments. “Well, Sharon found me some videos to follow. It turned out okay, I guess.”

“It’s beautiful, I said.”

He looked stunned. Quiet again, not exactly pleased. This man was a deep well of hidden emotions and complex feelings, or was he just thinking about tacos again?

“Thanks,” he muttered, turning his face to the ground.

Then he looked her in the eyes and said, “I think you’re my only real friend in the world.”

And it was so genuine. He really meant it. Friend. She was both honored and tragically sad if it was only just that.

The friend zone is a real place, Maria, and you live there.

She wanted to think of it as the kind sentiment he meant it to be, but her eyes threatened to well up with tears. She couldn't look at him any longer. So she closed her stupid eyes full of their problematic tears and laid her head on his shoulder.

He stiffened. She remembered he didn't like hugs, maybe? Or maybe he just didn't want hers? Or not now? Or not anymore? Who knew? It wasn’t as if they’d never hugged before, or close to it—a squeeze of the shoulder, a pat on the back, the same generic happy new year embrace everyone got.

Just give me a minute, she hoped.

But then she felt his head rest on hers in return, his fingers on her shoulder, pulling her closer.

Oh. This.

— "why are you here? #4: then go" part 1 / 4

Next -> // WAYH #4 start // index

previously: the last time she tried to hug him was a little awkward // Colette crushed all his hopes and dreams

author's note: ha ha, longtime readers will you please pretend you don’t know what happens after Stephanie’s wedding in about fourteen days, so you can muster up a shred of sympathy for this poor sad puppy dog in her cozy friend zone. If we were all reading this scene fresh from the beginning, I suppose we would feel very sorry for her. She doesn’t know what happens next.

A fair point though, at this point in his life, another woman to please in the last thing he wants. But he does need a friend.

pose credits: "a dandelion for you" by Natalia-Auditore

#ts4 #sims 4 #simblr #sims story #jordan #maria

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randomluck-ofthe-universe · 1 year ago

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"Did he not remember Billowy, or was he too modest, too cautious, to show he knew exactly what I was referring to? He resumed staring into the offing.

He had come on the right day. Not a cloud, not a ripple, not a stir in the wind. "I'd forgotten how much I loved this place. But this is exactly how I remember it. At noon it's paradise."

I let him talk. It was good to see his eyes drift into the offing. Perhaps he too wanted to avoid the face-to-face."

🥺❤️

cr. IG cmbyn.corcordium

#timothée chalamet #armie hammer #call me by your name #luca guadagnino #andre aciman

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eijirousbestie · 2 years ago

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“I want you.”

requested pt 2 of “I’m done talkin”

________________________________________

Talking wasn’t always easy. Sometimes it straight up drains the life out of a person. And you could understand that. You could understand him. Could understand that when life gets to be too much, he’d need the time away to sort things out.

It was only a matter of time before he felt comfortable enough to even be in the same room after what had happened. So he makes his way to the one place he can think.

The rooftop is wide and about ten stories up. The perfect view to overlook the city. The perfect view to think. The area is littered with thriving plant life and budding flowers alike. The rooftop garden is home to the Botany Club at the university but also open to the community.

He’s not crazy about flowers but he doesn’t necessarily hate them either. After all, this is the only place on campus where he could get some much needed peace and quiet. The library was suffocating, the dining hall was a mess and the dorms were a definite no.

You were there. It was Monday. You always got back to the dorms early on Mondays. So he made sure to be gone before you came back. It confuses him really, why he’s so avoidant with you. It’s not like he holds any resentment towards you, there’s just so much going on.

He passes a few of the hydrangea tables with slow steps. His fingers glide on each tabletop he passes, making sure not to bump a flower pot with his fingers. Tiger lilies, chrysanthemums, zinnias and asters rest at each of their designated tables. Some fresh greens hang from thin rope in reach of the four corners of the roof’s open walls.

The billowy wafts of the flora ease his nerves like a superpower. He stops in front of a pot smaller than the rest. The tag resting just before the plant reads “Canna Lily.” The petals a highly saturated red. They almost look fake they’re so bright.

He gets lost in his thoughts, staring idly at the flora. His hands ball up into fists at his sides. Why is thinking about you so hard? Things between you both were always so easy. At least that’s what he’d like to think. He knows he shouldn’t have blown up at you the way he did. There was no rhyme or reason for it. And it feels like such a shit excuse to say he did it because he was “under pressure.”

His fists tighten the more he thinks about everything. Why he’s stressed in the first place has nothing to do with you. He shouldn’t have let his own emotions drag you into it. The last bit of sun peaks through faded clouds that resemble stretched cotton. Soft pinks and oranges tone the sky as the large star begins its slow descent to night.

He lets go of a breath he didn’t know he was holding. The issue lies within himself and he knows that. He knows he should be man enough to own his mistakes and rectify all that he’s broken. He turns his head, no longer looking at the small flower, but over his shoulder at the person who had just stepped onto the rooftop.

Pausing at the door, you look at the figure in front of you. The man you hadn’t seen in nearly three weeks. The feeling is sudden and visceral as your heart feels as if it’s dropped into your stomach.

His eyes are hardened and yet so, so sorrowful. Like he’s trying to mask as much as he can. Without a single word, he tears his gaze from you and walks to the edge of the rooftop, propping and crossing his arms on the railing. His left foot crosses his right at the ankle as he puts his weight on the cement railing, gazing out at the view of the city.

The perfect view to think.

The perfect view to talk.

He doesn’t have to look to know you’ve followed close behind, position the same as his but you’ve put yourself at a wider distance. He can see the intentional space between you both in his peripheral. A displeased grunt rumbles from deep within his chest.

“Why’re you so damn far.” It’s more of a statement than a question. He clasps his hands together, still resting on the railing, hanging loosely from the wrist onto the other side.

“Wanna give you space.”

Your voice burns in his ears. A sound he’s missed although he’ll never admit it. Soft and yet so unsure. As if you’re not even convinced the words you say are the words you mean. He’d waited so long to hear from you. But not like this. Not with this dejected tone.

He swallows the budding lump in his throat and takes a deep breath before exhaling. If there’s anything he’s taken from his time with you, it’s the newfound habit of self-soothing. Calming his nerves so he can express himself properly. He hadn’t done it before and that’s what got him in this mess. So he’s sure as hell gonna do it now.

“I don’t want space.” He clenches his jaw tightly, a vein just under his jaw twitching with strain.

“Then what do you want?” What does he want?

“I want you.” A beat passes. “Us,” he corrects. He props his elbows up and cups his face in his hands and slowly slides them down over his eyes, nose, and lips before they’re gripping onto the railing for dear life. “The shit I said before—shit—I shouldn’t’ve took it out on ya. Had nothin’ to do with you and shoulda stayed that way.”

He clears his throat as he’s met with your silence. It only fuels him to express more. “I wasn’t lying to you though. About not being good at expressin’ my emotions and shit. M’ not good at it… but I’m tryin’. And I think as long as I’ve got you in my corner I’ll keep tryin’. So,” he takes another deep breath, “I guess what I’m sayin’ is… m’sorry.”

A long, lingering silence envelopes the two of you with an unmistakable chill. He finds the will to turn his head to look at you only to find that you’re already looking at him with a gaze so intense it leaves him confused. Are you mad? Upset? Both?

Well, that is until he sees a stray tear slip from the corner of your eye. His eyes zero in on it and he feels something in his resolve break. It’s the first time he’s ever seen you cry (if you can call one tear crying). He’s seen you pissed, agitated and annoyed but never this.

You wipe the rogue tear away and look back at the fading sky as night begins to fall.

“I miss us too Katsuki.”

________________________________________

fin.

#they made up #idk why I added flowers lol #bakugou katsuki #mha headcanons #mha x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou fic

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roarri · 2 months ago

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Frozen Fire Chapter 14

(Hi, realized I never shared this here. Chapter fourteen starts of with heart-to-heart between Danny and Dani. Enjoy!)

Danny looked at his twin and sighed.

A swathe of billowy clouds, tinged with shades of violet and golden yellow in the light of the setting sun, rolled below them in every direction. The snowcapped spires of mountain tops jutted through the rolling mists like fingers trailing through smoke. In the gentle wind, their cloaks swayed, the fading sunlight lighting Elle’s hair with gilded fire.

Danny knew Elle wasn’t happy with him. Her face was closed off, but he could sense her disappointment emanating from her. They sat side by side on a rocky outcrop, just above the blanketed clouds, but low enough that they could still admire the peak of Mount Cinomrah where it loomed like a noble guardian in the distance.

“Do you really have to leave?” Elle asked him.

Danny pursed his lips. They’d been sitting together in silence for some time under the ruse of having gone for a patrol, much to their father’s chagrin. Frostbite had a thing about them missing meals together and hadn’t been happy when they left. But Danny needed this time alone with his sister, and he knew she needed it, too.

“It won’t be as long this time,” Danny said.

“You said that last time and you were gone for years.”

“Hey, I visited, didn’t I?” At the narrowed, sideways look she gave him, he raised his hands in conciliation. “Two days tops this time. I promise.”

Elle blew out a breath that ruffled the long white fringe hanging in her eyes. “Sure.”

“C’mon, Dani,” he whined, using her old nickname from when they were kids. When they were little and similar in height, they had looked identical. Running amok through Ec’Nelis and introducing themselves to its denizens with the same name had been one of their favorite pastimes.

Her eyes glowed with annoyance. “What?”

“I need to make sure Pandora is okay. You know that.”

“I do know.”

Danny leaned back and studied her. Elle still wasn’t looking at him. Her feet kicked in the open air, just above the soft plumes of colorful clouds crawling below them.

“I just . . .” She shook her head. “I just feel like so much is going to change.”

He arched a brow at her. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“It’s an I don’t know thing,” Elle said. “Everything has been getting worse and worse for so long, and now with the human here, I . . . I don’t know.” She turned to face him, shifting in the snow, her green eyes wide and earnest. “What if you leave and you don’t come back?��

“That won’t happen.”

“It will,” she said. “Eventually. Won’t it?”

Danny didn’t know what to say to that. He’d never said it aloud, but Elle knew him better than anyone. She belonged here in the Far Frozen, surrounded by the yeti and revered by them like the Frost Princess that she was, but Danny? He didn’t know where he belonged. While Elle had embraced that part of herself and thrived in it, Danny had always felt like an outsider.

“I will be back,” he said, his voice resolute. “There’s too much at stake not to.”

Elle snorted. “Oh, I bet there is.” At his blank look, she rolled her eyes and added, “The human?”

“What about her?”

Her head tilted as she leered at him. “I’ve seen the way you look at it.”

Danny gaped at her in bewilderment. “I do not look at her in any way.”

Elle shrugged. “I get it, I do. It—she—doesn’t have horns or fur and now that she’s not all feral looking, I guess she’s not terrible to look at. I’m not judging you. Even if she is . . .” she wrinkled her nose, “human.”

“Please stop talking,” Danny grumbled. “I am not interested in a human.”

But then, he felt them—his intrusive and damnable thoughts as they niggled at him from some shadowy alcove in his mind. Creeping through his reason before he had the chance to snuff them out. He was suddenly transported to the memory of Sam’s warm fingers as they blazed down his arm, hastily cleaning the ectoplasm from his wounds. The room was heady with her concern for him, so potent that the innate fear that always wrenched in his presence was held at bay. He had frozen under her touch, too shocked to do anything else but gape at her, utterly overwhelmed by her abrupt proximity.

Her emotions were always so powerful, like a searing blast of fire over his frigid, writhing core. He shuddered at the memory, still unsure how he felt about it. Or what it had meant.

Continue Reading on A03 HERE

Or start with CHAPTER ONE

Summary: In a world where humans are on the losing end of a war with ghosts, Sam Manson is about as cynical as they get. Living in an underground bunker in the ruins of Amity Park tends to have that effect on a person. When a mission to restart a fusion reactor goes haywire, Sam’s life is spared by the infamous ghost called Phantom, and then she inexplicably wakes up in a strange, frozen world.

#danny phantom #dp fanfic #phanfiction #danny fenton #amethyst ocean #danny phantom fanfiction #sam manson #frozen fire #fakeout makeout #danielle fenton #dani fenton #dani phantom #frozen fire fanfic #frozenfirefanfic

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showyourself80 · 9 months ago

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That's a wrap for Snarry Microfic June 2024 fest!

Today marks the end of @snarrymicrofics June fest for me. 30 works in 30 days has been tough going. Nearly managed to use all the original prompts, but I draw the line at writing anything that reminds me of Umbridge (sorry day 30 😂).

With massive thanks to @picklesonjupiter for organising such a great fest. I've embraced short fic as a writing form, and it's probably the most inspired I've been in ages.

If you haven't had a chance to catch all my works, here's a handy summary with links to AO3 below (or see the series direct here).

Let me know in the comments which one was your favourite!

Trust. Gen rating. Prompt: Teddy Bear https://archiveofourown.org/works/56324071

Dwell. Gen rating. Prompts: Dwell/ "Take me home" https://archiveofourown.org/works/56325151

Restriction/Freedom. Mature rating. Prompts: Endless/Compress https://archiveofourown.org/works/56351068

Still human. Gen rating. Prompts: Misgiving/Blur https://archiveofourown.org/works/56390392

Choices. Teen rating. Prompt: Beach https://archiveofourown.org/works/56427676

Truth. Teen rating. MCD warning. Prompt: Eternal/ Denounce https://archiveofourown.org/works/56471089

Cocktail. Explicit rating. Prompts: Strawberries/ Lingerie https://archiveofourown.org/works/56471641

Cunning. Teen rating. Prompts: Flame/ Glitter https://archiveofourown.org/works/56475940

The next best thing. Gen rating. Prompts: Picnic/ Devotion https://archiveofourown.org/works/56492752

Faux pax. Teen rating. Prompts: Sandals/ "There's no one else" https://archiveofourown.org/works/56517757

Caged. Explicit. Prompts: Latch/Prison https://archiveofourown.org/works/56521837

Heat. Teen rating. Prompts: Heatwave/ Embrace https://archiveofourown.org/works/56575027

Destination. Mature rating. Prompts: Train/ Cough https://archiveofourown.org/works/56613652

Skirt. Teen rating. Prompts: Skirt/ Wry https://archiveofourown.org/works/56638282

Rain. Mature rating. Prompt: Rain https://archiveofourown.org/works/56658703

Call me. Teen rating. Prompts: Woozy/ "Call me" https://archiveofourown.org/works/56685523

Approbation. Gen rating. Prompts: Shop/ Approbation https://archiveofourown.org/works/56712421

Bond. Gen rating. Prompts: Fireflies/ Boundless https://archiveofourown.org/works/56725582

Beige. Gen rating. Prompts: Altruistic/ Beige https://archiveofourown.org/works/56725732

Attention. Mature rating. Prompts: Watermelon/ Salute https://archiveofourown.org/works/56781877

Drained. Mature rating. Prompts: "Are you dead?"/ Drain https://archiveofourown.org/works/56804728

Needs. Explicit rating. Prompts: Voracious/ Cloud https://archiveofourown.org/works/56828731

Billow. Gen rating. Prompts: Hiking/ Billowy https://archiveofourown.org/works/56852911

Tuned out. Gen rating. Prompts: Assuage/ Headphones https://archiveofourown.org/works/56876683

Conflicted. Mature rating. Prompts: Petulant/ Candy https://archiveofourown.org/works/56903080

Wax. Teen rating. Prompts: Bubbles/ Wax https://archiveofourown.org/works/56926663

Sundae. Teen rating. Prompts: Ice cream/ "Stop looking" https://archiveofourown.org/works/56949394

Unburdened. Gen rating. Prompts: White/ Shower https://archiveofourown.org/works/56977387

Hands free dessert. Explicit rating. Prompts: Cake/ Thong https://archiveofourown.org/works/56996473

Pole work. Teen rating. Prompts: Fingers*/ Pole* (*Substitutes) https://archiveofourown.org/works/57020014

#hp fanfic #snarry microfics 2024 #snarry #severus snape #harry potter #microfic #flash fiction #writing #smut #30 days

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dustedmagazine · 3 months ago

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Rose City Band — Sol Y Sombra (Thrill Jockey)

Rose City Band albums typically arrive at the onset of summer, the first humid, budding, insect humming weeks of May for instance, where their indolent strumming and wistful melodies overlay the early days of summer with a sonic haze. This one comes in the dead of winter, still sunny, still breezy but with a frisson of chilliness somewhere in the mix.

The band, as always, is led by Ripley Johnson, the main proprietor of trance-drone primitive Wooden Shjips and airy psychedelic Moon Duo. He lays down the 1970s country rock foundation with a steady guitar pulse and drifting cirrus clouds of vocals. The cosmic part comes, in large measure, from pedal steel-ist Barry Walker, whose eerie, note-bending slides arc out over simple melodies, giving them a spiritual edge. John Jeffrey keeps the band grounded with rock steady, but unshowy rhythms, while Paul Hasenberg plays keyboards and Sanae Yamada (also of Moon Duo) sings soft, inviting vocal counterparts.

The band hits an effortless stride early on in “Radio Song,” with its luminous tangles of guitar sound, its billowy unhurried tunefulness, its ease. You could drive for days with a song like this on repeat, windows down and the miles blowing by, in no particular hurry for the destination. So far, prime Rose City Band, a good thing in itself.

Still there’s a ruminative melancholy in the slow, acoustic “Sunlight Days,” a song that aches and yearns and remembers what’s gone by. Walker’s pedal steel solo here is especially effective, winding and uncurling like cream poured into coffee as it swirls into the mix. The instrumental “La Mesa” is more urbane and less down home, grooving in a chilly, subdued funk manner, twinkling electronics scattered over, as in the last Moon Duo album.

Rose City Band brings a little bit of summer into the year’s shortest days, but you feel it indirectly, through memory and reminiscence and nostalgia for other summers long gone. Sure, you could put the whole record on and drift off in a hammock, even now, with ice on the ground and a sharp wind blowing, but there’s a shadow falling on this sun. You might want a blanket.

Jennifer Kelly

#rose city band #sol y sombra #thrill jockey #albumreview #dusted magazine #jennifer kelly #wooden shjips #moon duo #ripley johnson #cosmic country

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cookeybg · 10 months ago

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Cerulean blue doesn't quite cut it

Billowy white clouds drifted slowly by, while emerald green leaves obscured the rays of the sun, casting a cool shade upon Damian. He stared up at the sky and tried to imagined a set of familiar eyes. He lifted his pencil, wiggling it in thought. The day had been lazy, calm, and he had decided to sit under the large branches of his favorite oak tree, sketching idly, enjoying the quiet. Titus slept on the large blanket he spread out, with Alfred the cat curled on his paws, both ever faithful and protective. Damian had eventually leaned back, their warmth bringing further comfort, he was now so relaxed that his mind wandered aimlessly. "His are more cerulean." He mumbled to himself. He tapped at his lip, humming. Those cerulean eyes would brighten whenever he said or did something that pleased him, that made him laugh, and Damian would stare at the unnatural but beautiful sight. Somehow, of everything he was capable of doing, it was those eyes, their color, that would solidify to Damian that he was not fully human. Yet, in many respects, he was more human than Damian, had taught him how to be more human. It had been years since their first meeting, the thought of it made him both cringe and laugh, made his chest warm at the history between them. He could imagine those eyes laughing, sparkling with mischief, crying, and in pain. Damian did not like seeing him sad, it was an emotion that did not fit someone so bright. "Maybe, a tropical blue." He extended his hand up towards the leaves, spinning his pencil. He could never get the color right. No matter how many times he would blend his paint, it was never good enough. “No, it has to be cerulean.” Damian sighed to himself letting his arm rest over his forehead. In a moment of clarity, he sat up right with a jolt. His heart beat quickened, a prickly sensation spread in his fingers, the ground didn't feel stable anymore. Titus and Alfred watched him, standing at attention. Shakily, Damian clutched at his chest, his breath labored. He couldn't believe it, he refused to believe it, how long had this been going on? It just wasn't right. He swept his other hand through his hair trying to calm down. The tree shook from a gust of wind and Jon knelt beside Damian looking at him, his brows furrowed. "Hey, your heart suddenly shot up." Jon said, placing both hands on Damian's shoulders. Damian stared back at Jon, agape, he could feel the hot flush of embarrassment, and something more, something deeper, rise up to heat his ears, to burn his cheeks. Those complex blue eyes widening further. "Are you okay? Can you breathe?" Jon restrained himself from shaking him "I'm…in love with you." Damian gasped out. Jon stilled, his eye color did the thing Damian could never replicate in his art. A beat too late, he realized what he had said and tried to move away, but Jon held on to his shoulders in an iron grip. "You aren't messing with me are you?" Jon rasped, his Adam's apple bobbed. Transfixed, all Damian could do was shake his head, he clutched at his chest harder, wrinkling his shirt further. Jon swallowed, inching closer. "I love you too," his face was only inches apart from Damian now, "may I?" He could feel his breath against his lips. He nodded and Jon rushed in, Damian's eyes fluttered closed. His lips were hot, soft and he smelled of wheat fields and ozone. His strong arms wrapped around him in a gentle, trembling embrace. It dawned on him that Jon was just as nervous, just as desperate as he. He removed his hands from in front of his chest to clutch at Jon's back, drawing him closer. Damian fell backwards bringing Jon with him. Their kiss ended with Jon laughing atop him. His eyes were the type of beauty to enjoy in person and no human hand would be able to capture it. He gently placed both hands on either side of Jon's face and just stared at him. Jon's gaze softened his eyes changing blue once more. Distantly he heard Titus and Alfred huff at their master's antics and settle back in their respective places. Cerulean blue doesn't quite cut it.

I had fun writing this, it's based on how I felt/reacted about my first love. I'm demisexual so it came as quite a surprise lol I hope I was able to get that feeling across. I also posted it on AO3 if you prefer to read it there:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/56516671

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sashi-ya · 2 years ago

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五 𝗦𝗘𝗡𝗦𝗘𝗦 𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗡𝗧: 𝐒𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐁𝐞𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐆𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐧 [+18] 𝙷𝚒𝚛𝚊𝚔𝚘 𝚂𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚓𝚒 𝚡 𝙵! 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

✦ request: @byakuyasbabe asked: hey, Sashi! can you please do <The scent of your skin.> for Hirako Shinji x fem!reader? love your headcanons sm <з ➜ omg I really missed writing for Shinji!! I hope you enjoy, love! ✦ tw: NSFT. mdni. footjob. oral. vag ✦ wc: 1.2k ✦ masterlist

A shiver runs through your spine, the tip of his nose buries on your back, yellow strands tickle your shoulders as he bends over you.

The night is cold, and the moon barely shines its light through heavy clouds of storm. Captain Hirako has his hands all over you, and he couldn’t wait no more. He wasn’t violent, but he definitely pinned you against his desk.

“I don’t know what it is, but you smell so good…” he whispers, pressing your belly against the wooden table underneath you. He is not heavy, but he is strong enough to trap you and not let you go.

Well, is not that you wanted to run away, anyway.

Shinji puts your hands over your head, your naked skin shines with the warm billowy motions of a candle light. You were undressed by him, in total silence and completely serious. Where it’s often a big smile, there was none. Only eyes filled with lust and desire.

You can hear, and feel, the way he sniffles your skin. There is something about your perfume that gets him crazy, oh so crazy.

But it’s nothing but your natural flesh scent. A flesh he is willing to bite, and he will for the sake of his sanity and the hardness growing in between his legs.

Hardness pressed against your glutes. More and more it grows, with the desperate grunts of that blonde man nuzzling in the crook of your neck.

“Hirako Taicho…” you murmur, with your cheek squeezed to the side as your head gets pressed against the desk.

“Yes, my sweet doll?” he asks, as he continues to sneeze your body and spread your legs with his knee.

You lift your ass a little more, wiggling your hips to deadly graze his bulge. “I really like you, Hirako Taicho~” you purr, tearing a manly grunt from him.

Shinji smirks pleased, passing his palm wide open from the small of your back to your nape. And then, with long fingers tangling in your hair he pulls your head back.

“You do? You do like me so much, (Name)? I’m so glad you do, why don’t you show me how much you want me?” he whispers in your ear, licking your earlobe after. You can feel the little steel ball’s coldness in his tongue on your skin.

Your arched back allows your breasts to hang perfectly and the imagery of such position reflects on the window you have in front of you. A downpour has started, and the way the glasses fog is nothing but the reaction of the cold against the heated atmosphere inside of Shinji’s office.

Your captain thrusts his hips against your glutes, and even if he is still dressed in his hakama, you can feel as if he was about to penetrate you; Shinji is way harder than ever, your sweet skin scent had been like a flower calling for a bee.

His locks tickle your back, but soon they do it on your chest as he brutally turns you around. Your back hits the desk, and a whine coming from your lips reverberates all around the fifth squad office.

You lift your legs, using your toes to grab to his hakama’s waist piece. You pull down in an attempt to take it off and you make him scoff. Shinji is so pleased with your neediness he helps you untie the white obi for you.

As his pants fall down, you discover the pale skin of his lean stomach. Down your eyes go, to discover the protruding hipbones and even lower his hardness. A shiny and reddish tip erected and so ready to bury so deep inside of you.

Your feet reach for his shaft; you make Shinji grimace and slightly pull his hips backwards. Yet, with your soft ups and downs jerking motions, your soles become wet as precum sprouts from his tip.

He pulls his head back, biting his thin lips and moaning so beautifully to the pleasure you are giving to him. His hands rest on his tiny waist, and the muscles of his stomach spasms to each and every touch.

“Ugh… you are so good, even with your feet… how comes?” he laughs, sexily. “But I want your lips around my dick now…” he moans, moving your feet away and extending one of his hands to help you properly sit on the desk.

You take his hand, and do as he tells; Shinji comes closer, he guides his sex into your mouth while patting your head softly.

You gloat at his flavour, and the scent of his skin that gets into your lungs every time your nose hits his lower belly. Your gag reflex is nothing but a sweet melody he enjoys even more than his jazz disks.

“Ugh… yes… keep going baby… look at me, come on” he growls, as your puppy teary eyes fix into his hazel ones.

Shinji caresses your hair back; with the delicacy his hips lack. You can sense with your tongue how his shaft throb, perhaps so ready for orgasm. But he isn’t finishing yet, he still wants and will fuck you hard and mercilessly.

“Stop. Stop. Let me see” he commands, taking his dick out of your mouth and cleaning the commissure of his lips with his slender hands. He inspects your shiny eyes as he moves your head by your chin. “So pretty, sweet one… you are so pretty”

Shinji plants a sweet kiss on your forehead, while spreading your legs to the max. While his lips now reach yours, his fingers do the same with your folds.

Biting and pulling your lower lip, he scoffs when he discovers the strings of wetness coming from your core. “Sweetf one, your aref so wet” he mumbles, still with your mouths pressed.

“It’s all forf youfh” you murmur back, closing an eye as he penetrates you with his index. He searches for your special spot and finds it, pressing up and using beckoning motions to make your shiver.

He abandons your kisses to bite your neck, and once again get drunk on the scent of your skin. “Wha- what is it… do you bathe in chocolate and vanilla, beautiful?” he asks, still unable to understand why he is so attracted to your perfume.

But he doesn’t really care no more, because your hands have reached for his already on the verge of coming dick. You pull so softly towards you; you want him inside.

And he complies, him as much as you, wants to fuck you.

First, the tip slides right in. He enjoys your nails carving marks on his pale back as he moves back and forth so delicately to simply fuck your entrance.

“Mo- more…” you want him deep, you plead for it.

Shinji smirks. Sure thing.

He slides himself completely in. You can feel the tip reaching places you didn’t know existed inside you. And while he does, your legs surround his waist, using your heel to pull him closer, more and more.

Shinji bites your shoulders, still smelling with strong gasps of air your perfume and merciless hammering motions.

Both reach heaven. You can feel the burning marks of his teeth engraved on your flesh. Marks you will enjoy having on your skin for some days more…

“You are the sweetest flower, (Name)…” “I am your sweetest flower, Hirako Taicho”

#bleach #bleach x reader #hirako shinji #shinji hirako #hirako shinji x reader #hentober #shinji hirako x reader #shinji x reader #bleach fanfiction #bleach fic #bleach tybw #bleach manga #bleach anime #bleach shinji #shinji bleach #shinji hirako x you #hirako shinji x you #shinji #hirako bleach

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xsapphirescrollsx · 2 years ago

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Mesquite Grove pt 2

Written Oct 25 2020

Dark! Syverson x Black Reader x Dark! Geralt Also this is post is pic heavy. I modeled the cabin in this story of off Sky Notch. I hope it’s not to much lol and that you enjoy it. Thanks for reading and reblogging!

She had offered an exchange.

The writhing twisted thing on the ground, whipped its long slimy arm along the bog’s black moistened soil. It bared its sharp teeth before bellowing a sorrowful moan.

Geralt stared down at what used to be a beautiful woman. With her once melodic voice she had promised youth, riches beyond measure, and power - if he would let her live.

Allow her to continue her own reign of terror over the small but humble village. She had brought strife, she carried sickness into their homes, disturbed their spirits.

Geralt wasn’t a fool. Of course he had considered her offer, but knew it was nothing more than conjured filaments of promises. It would have only been real as long as she lived.

What are a handful of crowns in exchange to leaving innocent people to harm?

Though he was no saint. It took sleeping with the village’s leader’s prettiest daughter and taking half her dowry to gain his contract. One cannot ask if one is not willing to give.

And he delighted in the taking.

As in this moment, the black eyes matched his as he stared into the abysmal void that was quickly spreading down its body.

Geralt bared his own bright white teeth and plunged the sword further into the monster's rib cage, piercing its heart and impaling the dirt below. Green ooze bubbled out of the wound. The moan gurgled into a desperate scream, echoing throughout the forest, shattering the peace surrounding it.

The moment Geralt withdrew his sword the ground beneath him shook. Around him, wind began to whip and the wispy clouds around him whirled above him. Thinking, calculating, Geralt wondered what new spell this was. Eyes now back to their golden color he stared at the swirling beginning to descend about him.

He tried to take a step, strained again to pull back from the gravity sucking him upward.

Geralt reached for the beast at the same time his feet left the ground. Out of time the rotten skin slipped through his fingers, the whirlwind carried him up and up.

The forest chattered once more. The creature laid there dead as Geralt had planned. But there was no Geralt here, or sword.

The moon hung behind a clear pane of glass, in the room you shared with Sy. Near the bed, where you laid, within her own wooden bassinet, the soft breathing of an infant soothed some of your worries. Pregnancy had looked great on you. Actually, you had never felt better and almost disturbingly so. It was September now, a month passed giving after a near painless birth to Astrid.

The little darling, Sy’s heir and your delight, and your reason for sleepless nights. Not because she required taking care of, that came easy enough, but your system had changed. You had little sickness throughout the pregnancy, energy boundless in a way you longed for the days where you could sleep a full night.

This was one of those nights. Sleepless wasn’t the word for it. You flipped on your side and stared out of the window. The advent of fall had begun revealing a clear cool night sky with stars dotting above the tops of the pecan tree basking in the white light of the moon. You heavily sighed and rolled on to your back. It was ill advised by the old matrons that new mothers were allowed to roam the woods like their other halves. So you were laying on the large, billowy bed, muscles twitching to wander, heart waiting for the moment your bare feet could hit the ground.

You stared at the wood grain above the bed and listened to the dark, imprinted the sound of Astrid’s breathing to your memory, and beyond the window pane howls - distant, calling to the night, did little to lull you to sleep. Your secret weapon to combat restlessness was to wiggle your foot. Quick short bursts of movement rocked you gently. Your eyes slowly blinked followed by a deep yawn and you shut them completely. The things to do in the morning began to drift less in your thoughts and it became more important to cave into the sinking sensation of sleep. You attempted to blink again, though did not.

Your foot stopped moving.

The dream began with feet, steadily walking through overgrown grass, stopping at first and then started again. Night rounded around the image, the skin was coated in black smudges, blood, the hem of a dark dress dragged and smeared it around the calves. You could smell the iron in the air along with rot, not animal death, but that of felled trees with fungus aiding in its decay. A woman, she began to run as the vision pulled back and revealed that within her arms a bundled lay there. No bigger than Astrid, could have been Astrid the love you felt was as strong as that for Astrid.

But it wasn’t, this woman was afraid of losing this bundle. Though not to death, but to forces beyond her control, so she ran.

The dream shifted to fog, no footsteps to be heard. Made of air and a moist breeze they walked out from the trees and surrounded the woman. The bundle lifted from her arms despite her attempts to hold on, what was soft fabric became translucent just as the beings. Her scream scratched the inside of your ears, the wail turned yelling, her mouth was moving but the voices from it did not match. Your body began to shake, the scene rattled too.

“Wake up, Miss! - Oh, old God! Please wake up!” the voice said.

Your eyes peeled open to Peach’s deeply wrinkled face. Worried thin lips were drawn into a straight line. “Miss!”

Your back snapped up straight, head turning towards the bassinet your eyes looked over Astrid. Peach held your shoulders, “She’s okay. But you have to come down--”

You pulled her worn hands from your body and held them within your own. “What’s wrong?”

And then you felt it, a worry, deep in the pit of your stomach.

“Is it Sloan?”

Peach suddenly blubbered, you had never seen her in such a state. The aged woman was tough, and her tears had you climbing out of bed faster than what she could answer.

You stood above Astrid’s bed, touching her belly you turned back toward Peach’s hunched over figure as she wiped at her lined skin.

“I knew it would happen again..god damn--I told Alpha it could happen again.” she mumbled.

Dottie, with her curly hair pulled up tight in a high bun and tugging on old boots, rushed in. “I got Astrid.” she said hurriedly.

Dottie’s face was lowered, her eyes staring down at Astrid. She sighed, that was the moment you noticed a subtle lemon light and then she looked back at you. Behind her, beyond the window the sky whirled with clouds. Some deep yellow, others blue, circled and churned. You moved closer to the bassinet, still staring at the sky when Dottie too turned around, Peach gasped behind you. In the hustle you had not looked at the window, had it been doing this the whole time?

Clattering from down below, near the stone den, loud voices shouted, some hollered for help. Your stomach dropped more. Dottie shot out and grabbed your wrist. “Go.” she said quietly.

You walked past Peach, to the end of the bed, who was still staring at the window with her hands covering her mouth. Grabbing the thick navy robe you turned around back toward Astrid’s bassinet, Dottie was there, her face toward your sleeping baby. You threw it on as she waved for you to go.

It must have been later than you realized, the second floor was devoid of the usual lit sconces, instead the fiery light from below coxed up and gave you warm light to guide you down the stairs. The row of balcony doors came in to few as you quickly descended, the yelling had died down in its place hushed tones followed murmuring.

Eyes wide you hit the bottom of the wooden stairs and turned toward the large space with the stone monument. Women were coming in from across the other rooms with clothes in their arms. You recognized the usual pack, Tator, shorter than Sy preferred tattered jeans dragged across the floor as he paced. Macon, naked, was squatted down near a figure laying flat near the stone of the large statue. Jimbo, he was shirtless as he stretched the waist of the sweats around his waist stood up erect, his normally jovial face was straight and concerned.

You rushed forward, their eyes turned to you and you ignored their bareness as you searched for Sy. They parted for you until his naked back could be seen, “Sy?”

An older woman handed him a shirt, he turned toward you and grabbed your face. “‘You okay?” he asked.

Before you could answer, you moved to this side, your eyes dropped to the figure laying on the floor.

“Ya’ll back up,” Sy called out in a hushed voice. He looked to you again waiting for you to answer his previous question.

But you couldn’t take your eyes off the man on the floor. Sy nudged your cheek with the back of his hand, moist with sweat it was enough to draw your eyes back to him. “I’m fine, so is Astrid.” you whispered, and then pointed down at the man. “Who is that?”

“He looks-” said Jimbo, but stopped.

Peach had wiggled through the men across from you and Sy. Her blue eyes stayed on the man.

“We shifted on the other side of the property, so we were running,” began Sy, as any mumbling died away. “I scraped my leg near the old pyre. I ain’t ever seen anything like it.” His voice strained as he tried to stay calm while speaking. “What I was lookin’ at split and blurred. There was flashing lights in the sky, these clouds circled us and this asshole popped out and landed right on top of me. And then other things, monsters, fell right along with him and disappeared in the woods.”

Both you and Peach met near the side of this man. His shirt was near new, though unique and more like a tunic than a cotton tee. And his boots were good, strange though. “There was a high pitched noise, it sounded like a bomb went off in my head.” continued Sy.

You knelt down at his side, staring at the strands of dirty silver hair. “It reminded me of war.”

Flicking down further down this man’s neck, his pulse thudded quickly underneath pale skin, around the bottom half on his chest and shirt, a medallion on a silver chain. You reached out for it, slowly at first unsure at why you were doing so, but you did it anyway. You held it, still warm from his body and swiped a thumb over the raised décor. “It’s a wolf..” you said softly.

More than that, it matched the same motif and style of that within the crest of the Syverson heirlooms you had seen so many times.

“Looks like what is on the wall in the dining room.”

“I never thought I would see the day…” said Peach.

Sy moved closer, though still standing, at your side. “What’s going on, who is this?”

Your eyes flew back up to the man’s face. Even in his sleep, silver brows seemed to glower in his rest. A familiar profile stuck out to you, it was the same as Sy’s face, same shape of lips, the clef in his chin.

“He looks like you Sloan.” you said, still holding the medallion.

And it happened fast. Peach gasped first before you realized the man’s eyes opened, yellow and pointed in your direction. He snatched your hand within his and sat up, staring down at you. Crushing your fingers around the metal, the man growled before suddenly blinking slowly. Through his nose, he breathed in deep. “You smell…like flowers...dizzy..” his lips barely moved, your eyes met his as he leaned in closer. He continued to do so, his eyes slowly shut, his hand around yours dropped as Sy stepped in time to push him off you.

The man crumbled down to his side while Sy helped you stand. “Who is his?” he was looking down at the man, brows drawn together before he stared at Peach.

Teary eyes were still on the silver haired man. Peach, sighed, mumbled something under her breath before she sighed heavily.

“He’s..” she turned her eyes up to you and then to Sy. “I didn’t think we would ever see him again. Alpha, this man..” she looked back down at him, her hands seeming wanting to reach out to stroke his hair but did not. “This boy is your brother.” she finally said. “Your twin.”

Members of the pack lifted the man and placed him into a bed on the second floor of the cabin. The women had undressed him, mended his scrapes and scratches as he remained unconscious. It was now late morning, daybreak had cast light into the room catching his white hair. You stood at the doorway, observing Peach check his pulse.

“He’s still breathing, seems to be sleeping.” she said to Sy.

Your eyes fell to the man. Something solid settled in your chest when you gazed at him. Akin to how you felt for Sy, but different because while you had no idea who he was, you yearned.

“How is that man your brother?”

The sound of your voice breaking the silence had Sy turning toward you. The disappointment in his express was palpable. His eyes rolled to Peach. “‘Feel like I’ve been lied to my whole life.”

“He wasn’t ‘pose to come back! No lie can be undone if there’s no proof Alpha!”

Sy stepped toward the man, pointed, “He’s right there woman! A whole lie laying in my house!”

“Sloan.”

Olive came in, a large book cradled in her arms, “This was from the old times, before there was a here and our people came to live here.” Sy made to move toward her but stopped when she spoke again, “Your mama made me promise. Omega’s trust is binding.”

She handed the book to you. “In there is about you too.” she said, looking from the thick embossed leather to you.

“What about me Olive?”

“A woman unknown. A stranger no more. Alone in the world, shiftless but finds their grounding.”

You squinted at her. “That could be anybody.”

“--catches the eye of the Alphas.” Olive continued.

Sy interrupts with what you did not catch. “Alphas?”

“First Omega with two mates.”

You blinked, and then squeezed the bridge of your nose while struggling to understand.

“You were destined to be here. The world, gods, -- you were supposed to always be here.” said Olive. “I just..never considered that this prophecy would happen in my time.”

“Maybe if you hadn’t of lied-” Sy growled.

“I had no choice. I was bound by your mother’s word. And her actions were bonded by blood. No way around that, believe me I tried. Your father was missing. And, damnit, your mother knew not to ask the fog for help. She had no idea they would take her son in exchange...” said Olive.

Peach grumbled under her breath. She shuffled toward the end of the bed all the while staring sorrowfully at Sy. “Alpha, this man is your brother.”

“I don’t even know his name.”

“Geralt Syverson. In that book there-” Peach stuck a knobby knuckled finger toward the thick tome. “Says right in there, that man’s name is Geralt.”

Olive sniffed the air for a moment and glanced back at you.

“The rut is tonight.” she said, still staring at you. “Whatever it is you need to think about Alpha, you best do it quickly.” She turned her eyes back to him. “Because this is happening. Destiny is willing it.”

“I don’t give a damn about destiny-”

“I think you will find it is hardly worth out running.” the man mumbled from the bed. “Believe me I’ve tried.”

“Where am I?” he said while glancing out the window. Geralt sat up, moaned deeply and held his head before shifting his eyes up to the man who mirrored his likeness. “And I need a bath.”

You stood tense outside the kitchen door. Back so tight, it was fit to snap but you pivoted from ball to heel, rested the back of your head against the grain. This man’s voice settles in the knot between your shoulder blades. It struck you even deeper in your gut, your soul, whatever that warm feeling that sat in the middle of your chest.

You know more than not, that the reason is something more than soulmates, and connections. You can smell it from here, him, just as you suspected he could sniff you out too. It was raw in your nose, primal, and instinctual.

And you were grateful that the occasional passerby did not stop. Like you, they too avoided the kitchen while this visitor ate.

“Is she yours?” asked Geralt.

Without a pause, “Yes.”

“So she follows you everywhere you go?” he asked. “Why is she standing out there?”

Sy called your name, slowly you rolled on your arm toward the entry. The moment his yellow eyes landed on yours longing unfolded within you.

“I find myself, once again, in a strange land.” he said lightly. Geralt chewed off a bite of toast and gestured toward Sy. “And this man says he is my brother. However, I believe I am much better looking. What do you say?” he said as he swallowed the mouthful.

Sy sat in the chair sideways, with his large legs splayed, he hunched over with his fist flat at the knuckles and pressed into his thigh. He turned his head to you, utterly gentle, soft even to Geralt’s gaze he gave you a half grin.

“Why are you here?” You asked.

Walking over to Sy, you kept watching Geralt the same as his eyes stayed on you. His chewing paused when you grew close, his eyes fell to the arm Sy wrapped around behind your hips before looking you in the eyes.

“I have no idea.” said Geralt, and turned back to his plate.

Slowly his gaze moved from the pile of eggs to the book between him and Sy. He picked up the bottle of beer, chugged it while still staring at the words on the pages. Such an odd man, you observed, since waking he even walked around with a sword strapped to his back. Like now, his top half curved over his plate, those strange eyes shifting -- taking in his surroundings without looking too long.

“But I overheard something about a rut?” He said to Sy. “What are you some sort of animal? A pack of mutant dogs?” he chuckled.

Sy didn’t join in his amusement.

“Werewolves.”

Sy jerked his chin, cut his eyes down to the medallion around Geralt’s neck. And casually, glanced back at that symbol on the ancient page.

“That’s the mark of my family. Our inheritance.”

Geralt put down his beer and leaned back in the wooden chair stiffly.

He rolled his jaw, flicked his tongue between his back teeth and looked to you first. “I’m over a hundred years old.” he said, and then stared at Sy. “Either this is some sort of time dream, or I’m your ancestor. This place doesn’t look like the Continent. Lacks greater magic, but this medallion - it’s been gently vibrating since I’ve arrived.”

“It warns me of magic and danger,” he said. “It’s no family heirloom. It was given to me once I completed my trails.”

It was absurd to think of movies or the vast stories of time travel, but it was all you had.

“So what if you were taken there as an infant.” You looked to Sy. “Like Olive said.”

“And time moves differently in this place you grew up in.” Geralt stared up at you, listening.

“Wouldn’t that account for something? You’re talking about all this magic like it’s true. That’s not how it is here. And only recently have I even considered anything like it.”

You continued to stare back at his unwavering glare. “Don’t you feel different?”

A long silence followed. Sy caught you staring, the heaviness of his grip on your hip pulled you to stare back at your mate. He was still considering Geralt, the man continued to look at you until he spoke.

“He does. And by the end of the night I’m sure you’ll understand why...brother.”

The title brought Geralt’s focus back to Sy. “Odder things have happened in my long life. What’s one more?”

They, the pack, took this new/old comer in stride. Stranger than his sudden appearance was how they welcomed him back into the fold of their lives. Twelve hours since he arrived and Peach was here in front of you talking about him like he had always been.

Her eyes burst with delight as she spoke about him as a baby. How good he was, that he cried very little, and always needed cuddling.

Peach was covered in dark soil. From the creases around her knuckles to the edge of her temple. The old woman cut herbs down to the root as she spoke.

“Are you ready?” she asked.

You blinked a few times, coming back to the moment. You nodded.

Peach threw the last bunch of tarragon in her basket and stood up slowly. “I think your baked chicken will go good with that.”

Peach huffed, shook her head and looked to you exasperated. “That’s not what I was talking about. Don’t be coy. The rut.”

“You think Sy is really going to allow a stranger-”

“It’s not about what he will allow. It’s a bond with the land that was paid in blood before you even knew we existed. It is what it is.”

You laid Astrid down back in the bassinet. Ready for tonight's pack dinner you walked from the room you shared with Sy. You peaked back through the door at the young woman you had left your child in care of.

She sat in the chair near, cracked open her book and smiled back at you.

You buried the anxiety with a tight nod back. Already the house buzzed with high spirits, for the arrival, and for the eve of their time of bonding. The closer you came to the dining hall the louder it was and thicker the fragrance.

The two of them, different but the same, had the effect within you.

Entering the voices quieted. Some familiar faces looked at you, smiled, nodded as you passed down the center of the long tables toward the one sitting long ways. Your space was empty, a vast void between Sy and Geralt.

They stared at you. But your eyes fell to Sy only.

And so you sat between the two big men. Something about them, their demeanor toward one another -- something had changed. And it poured over during dinner. They no longer seemed like two strangers.

Geralt leaned back on his right hand, just behind you and whispered in your ear. “I hear we have some catching up to do.”

Sy glanced at you from the side of his eye before answering a member of his pack from across the tables.

And you said nothing in return, and you did not look at him either. You picked at the potato salad on the plate before you and forced yourself to listen to Sy’s words.

“I’ll be gentle.” Geralt whispered again, this time close enough to feel his breath brush against your ear. “Maybe...” he chuckled softly. “..if you’re good.”

You stared at Geralt from your place at the front of the pack on the balcony. He stood there observing the pack members, shoulders straight, chin level, and those yellow eyes stopping and studying ever so often. The weather fell, cold wind swept through the crowd of people staring at their Alpha. If not for the occasional blinks, and subtle tilt to his head, you would have thought Geralt was made of stone as Sy spoke.

“These are peculiar times,” said Sy, shifting his head and eyes from you to Geralt on his left. “But we aren’t strangers to oddities as such. As you all have heard, this man here is my brother.”

Indistinct mumbles descended through the fifteen or twenty men and a few women standing in front of you, Sy, and Geralt.

Sy held up his for silence. “Geralt Syverson was a child of bond made in blood. Our mother’s sorrow over the loss of our father was paid by Geralt’s exchange. It carried him off beyond the world we see now.”

Sy looked over at Geralt, who cut his eyes to him. “Carried him to distant lands where he was taken in by a woman. From what I gather his life has been hard.”

Your mate turned his focus back to the pack. “He was..changed by the people of the land.”

“Why is he back?” called a voice. “Why now?” said another.

Sy turned his head to the right and looked at you for a moment and then addressed the crowd. “The dark soul about a year back did it. The last one killed before that, was the night payment was due and my brother was taken.”

“Is he one of us?” asked a tall man, his black eyes swept from Geralt’s boots to silver hair before looking at Sy.

“‘Can’t be a Prime. There’s never been two.” he added.

Sy stared after the pack member, you could see it in his brows as he carefully considered his next words.

“There is now.”

The crowd mumbled some more, whispers, disgruntled and blameful rolled over them once again.

“There’s more on this land than we know.” Sy said loudly over them. “Shit we never seen is going on in the woods and my brother knows about it.”

Sy glanced over at Geralt who was already staring at him. “He will help. This is home now.”

Geralt nodded. “I kill monsters.”

His eyes drifted from Sy to you. “And as far as this being my home, it remains to be seen.”

“You will.” Sy clapped his big hand over Geralt’s leather clad shoulder and squeezed. “The air is changin’, you feel it?”

And as if speaking it into existence the wind shifted around them. The Alpha’s restless stances moved with one another feeling the resonance of their Alpha Prime’s words.

Geralt said nothing at first, his eyes traced back to the men. In the light of the balcony his skin shone slick with sweat. Sy grinned.

“Alright, ya’ll - meet up in a few hours.”

Sy dropped his hand, the other messaged your back and wrapped around you to pull you forward through the crowd along with Geralt.

“First order down this path is claiming.” said Sy quietly while walking through the row of doors back into the house. “They have it easier, like during the change-- like me because we have mates.”

Your stomach dropped.

Still sweating and rather perturbed Geralt grunted out unamused, “I glanced through the book Syverson.”

“Sy?” you rounded on him taking a few steps up the stairs. “This is ridiculous. I’m not-”

Sy suddenly took to the stairs, growling in his throat forcing whatever retort back down in your throat. He grabbed your arm and began to walk you up the stairs.

“Come with me brother,” called Sy over his shoulder. And when you glanced back at the silver haired man. He was staring at you, his breaths heavy and you recognized he could smell you just as you could scent him out.

You pulled against Sy, but it didn’t matter. He dragged you into their room. Gone was the bassinet, the child you shared with Sy and the room was lit by candle light and the night sky filtering through the large windows.

Geralt followed and closed the door behind him.

“Try it,” said Sy. And he repeated the growl in this throat. “Think of subduing without touching.” he added, and twisted you around to face Geralt.

“Don’t-” you said. “I never agreed to this. I-”

Geralt stepped forward, the rumble in his throat began low and hit you harder than Sy. A deep jolt in your pelvis and wetness seeped from between your folds. The sound of his call was raw, unwavering and only grew the longer he stared into your eyes.

“A curious creature,” his hand caressed your cheek, smearing the tear into your skin. “So lovely.”

Sy released you and stepped to the side. “She was made for us. In every way possible, brother.”

Geralt hummed, blinked slowly as your compliance melted into his psyche. He had been to the edges of the Continent, seen worlds broad and miniscule. But this, the sensation to ravish and take had never been stronger than in this moment. The urge to...plant, sow his legacy felt primal and ancient.

Sy breathed in deep, smelling the fragrance of your heat fill the room. “She’ll fight. But it only makes it sweeter.”

You fought against the rush. “You--don’t know what you're talking about Sy..please..” you strained to look away from Geralt.

“You know what the rut does to me baby..” whispered Sy. “You belong to us now.”

Sy walked from the room, leaving you to Geralt. And with him any hope that the man you loved, wouldn’t do this. But the moment the thick wooden door clicked shut Geralt tore at your t-shirt, grabbed the back of your hair and pulled you against his chest.

His lips hovered over yours. Humming the Alpha chant he kept you there staring into your eyes.

“I have so much power over you.” his deep voice mollified your senses. “It was confusing at first, this world, how it worked. But I feel the desperate pull to be inside you, entirely. And I fear.”

Throat dry, you struggled to speak against the cloudy haze of hormones. “--fear?”

“That I wouldn’t be able to stop myself..” Geralt pressed his lips on top of yours. He split them with his tongue, plunging and licking your teeth and tongue.

You pushed against him, you tried to unglue yourself from the nature blossoming inside. It wasn’t nearly enough.

“The more you resist,” he groaned and kissed around your mouth slowly making his way back to your mouth. “The worse it is..”

Geralt fumbled with his armor, shedding it fast when he released you to sway where you stood. And before you knew it, his naked form stood in front of you, the muscles with dark swirls of hair coating his chest and down a wide trail over his abdomen toward his chubby, thick cock.

You lunged to the left, but you were too overcome by the nature of your place in this culture. Geralt grabbed you about the chest and waist and walked you toward the bed. Shaking your head, crying was met with his Alpha hum.

He tossed you on the bed back first, stripped your pants away and pulled off what was left of the tattered shirt. Head half empty, the other overpowered by lust, beckoned him to fulfil his duty.

And as he pounced on top, before you could stop yourself, your fingers traced over the mounds of his pecks, around his shoulders and pulled him toward you.

Geralt’s tight grin, his yellow eyes delighted in your sudden offering. But he grabbed your wrists anyway, held you down below him. And without much care, squeezed his way past your slippery folds.

His mass pounded your body into the bed. His slick, porcelain skin slides against the tops of your nipples, you swear the briny dripping from him is your ultimate undoing. He takes from you, but his thrust gives in its own ritualic way. There was no escaping the act of completion, and as the swollen feeling in your clit cascaded into bone aching bliss you fell into his command. Your Alpha Prime, the second man in your life.

He flipped you over, ass up and fell back into line with his rhythmic thrusting. It didn’t matter that he spread you further, had a handful of your face in his hand pressed against his jaw. He powered away inside of you, dropped his lips along your neck. And with his other hand, he held your head down, licked the stretch of moist skin there slowly.

“I claim you,” Geralt whispered and buried his cock deep. His teeth nipped the skin of your neck, your ass arched more, craving the pain of his depth. And his bite pierced at the same time he spilled inside of you. Your whimpering, the small, surrendering mewl flared his nostrils as he bit down harder.

The door slammed open smacking the wall, your eyes rolled in your skull before falling on the shape of Sy. He walked in and shoved it back shut.

“I can’t wait any longer,” he groaned and began to peel off his clothes. “I can smell her down to the kitchen…”

Geralt tried to move inside of you. Another round of simpering whines called from your mouth. Sy rushed to the side of the bed where your head rested.

“Don’t,” Sy warned. “You’ll hurt her.” he said softly while stroking your hair.

“Lay there with her, hold her. She’ll bond with you until you can pull out again.” he instructed.

Sy sat on the floor, he laid his head not too far away from your own as Geralt wrapped his arms around your back to your chest. You stared back at him as he gazed at you achieving peace.

“Good girl.” he whispered.

Geralt turned his head back into your neck, humming low, and sniffing your hairline slowly it stimulated the vibration of love deep inside of you. The rush spread.

“Now you have two of us.” said Geralt.

“It’ll be my turn next,” added Sy. “We’ll take care of you, baby.”

The Next Morning

The brothers ran together last night. Their howls carried through the room and even invaded your sleep. Dreams of a black wolf, a white wolf, fog, wilderness kept you stuck to the bed most of the early morning.

The night sitter brought Astrid to the room as the sun rose. And you spent time with your daughter despite the ache in your body. When the voices in the cabin began to grow louder you knew they were home again.

You wondered if it was easier for Geralt, the change that night. Not that you saw it in person. But you couldn’t help but feel that your new mate somehow deserved a painless shift.

And when the sitter came bounding back in off the energy surging through the home. She scooped up Astrid.

“The Alpha Prime’s are asking about.” her bubbly voice softly rang.

Even if you did feel for Geralt, the night before was remembered. “I don’t care.” you said and got up from the bed.

“I’ll have some coffee up here.” you added and headed toward the bathroom.

You ignored the smell of food wafting into the bedroom after the shower. Your eyes landed on a tray on the end of the bed. A platter of toast, fruit and thermos of coffee waited for you.

And so did two tall, disgruntled men.

“Why didn’t you come down?” asked Sy, pushing away from the closed door.

Geralt slowly walked toward the bed, but turned his back to you and Sy by looking out the window.

You glared at Sy. “You--neither of you gets to decide -”

“Ah but we do.” Geralt butted in, hands clasped behind him he turned from the window. “The moment you felt me enter your slippery cunt you belonged to the both of us.”

You look to Sy for support but he just stared back.

“From what I’ve learned you have no choice but to submit.” Geralt glanced across the room for affirmation, Sy simply nodded. “Therefore, you will learn to love it.”

You started to snap back, yell, spit anything but a low growl began from Geralt that stopped you in your tracks. “I don’t want to hurt my...mate.”

Geralt and Sy walked toward you, the silver haired at the left, the bushy faced man at the right. Sy put his hands on his hips and grinned kindly back at you.

“We want you happy, dove.” Geralt carcasses your face, he dipped in and began to sniff your cheek, down your neck. “God, do you smell that?” he asked Sy.

Sy stepped over, you turned your watery eyes to him. He was softer with his eyes, gazing at you with love. Geralt held the back of your head allowing Sy to lean in toward the pulse point on your neck and ran his nose across your skin.

“It’s sweet. Like honey, or some wild flower but deeper, yes?” he asked Sy.

He knew that smell alright, the deep resonant fragrance coated the back of this throat. It flipped a switch in the back of his mind as he breathed in deep. He wouldn’t have to mate to procreate, not for a few months.

“She’s pregnant. That’s the smell..and it smells like she has both of us in there.”

....to be continued...

#Black reader #black female reader #x black!reader #dark!syverson #dark!geralt #dark!syverson x black reader #dark!geralt x black reader

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