#but as soon as you cross over the border its grey again

[lucentclan]

well! i wasnt expecting this-

I wrote a little snippit for this that I'll put it under the cut, I'm so upset over them you have no idea

despite the war between Lucentclan and Fernclan being over, Newtstar decides that he, Pepperflare, and Violethope will go patrol the borders one last time before the sun goes down. They don't realize the scent of rain or the clouds forming in the distance, as they're crossing the beach, rain begins falling heavily and weighing down their pelts.

"Newtstar!" Pepperflare calls over the now howling wind, anxiety pricking in her paws as the rain brings back unwanted memories of Sablepaw being washed away in a flood four moons ago. "We should really go back to camp! I don't have a good feeling about this."

Newtstars ears flick in acknowledgement, "we need to be sure that Fernclan isn't up to anything. I won't lose anymore cats to those fox-hearts!" He argues back, claws digging into the sand as he thinks of their previous medicine cat, Rippleclaw.

"No sane cat will be out in this weather!" Pepperflare insists, "Especially Fernclan cats! They hate water!"

"I agree with Pepp-" Violethope begins, her meow quickly cut off by a deafening crash and flash of lightning. In the distance, the sound of trees cracking and breaking echo down the mountains.

All three clancats freeze, heads snapping to the horizon where they see a massive wave of water quickly making its way down the hill, rocks, trees, and other natural debris coming along with it. The clancats barely have time to process what was happening before the water reaches them and sweeps them off their paws and into the unforgiving ocean. Their lungs fill with freezing saltwater as they cry out for starclan to save them to no avail.

Newtstar is the first to open his eyes, the yellow a sharp contrast to the darkness around him. Stars now shine in his pelt, and reflect in his eyes as he takes in the vaguely familiar area. He had been here when he lost his first life protecting his clan from a dog the same moon Rippleclaw had been found dead on Fernclans border. It had been nice to see the tom again to be assured that he wouldn't be alone, their starclan guide, and Newtstars own kin, Shardfoam being there to keep him company.

He sits and sighs, watching the water drip from is glimmering pelt and dissappear into the stars beneath his paws. He couldn't help but feel as if he had let his clan down.

Pepperflare and Violethope join him soon, appearing with splashes of salt water and gasping breaths that didn't take any oxygen. The she-cats meet eyes for a moment, confused as they look towards their leader.

They realize the stars at the same time, dismay filling them. Quietly, they step forward to sit beside their leader in quiet mourning.

"I'm sorry it had to be this way," A familiar voice says, a cream tabby tom stepping into sight. Sympathy reflecting in his grey eyes as he looks at the warriors. Beside the medicine cat is a younger spotted gray apprentice, Sablepaw, who is looking at them with the same sympathetic look.

"Rippleclaw! Sablepaw!" Newstar cries, standing. "Whats going on? We can't actually be dead, right? What about my other seven lives?" The words tumble out of his mouth before he can stop them, needing answers. Beside him, Pepperflare tries to speak but just hacks up a mouthful of water. Violethope remains quiet.

Rippleclaw sighs, "Unfortunately there was no way for starclan to bring your body back, it was washed too far out to sea for it to be possible." He steps to the side, the area behind him now streching out into a vast area, stars littering ground. This was starclans hunting grounds. The medicine cat dips his head, tears in his eyes as his friends try to process their deaths, "Welcome to starclan, my friends. Here you can watch over and guide Lucentclan."

Down below the sky, Quailcall sits outside the medicine den, blue eyes watching the entrance of the camp. It's been far too long since the patrol had left, and the elder was starting to get a bad feeling. He looks up at the dark clouds as it stormed and shakes out his pelt before standing and turning to enter the den.

Sparkfire lays in a nest against the far wall, curled up tightly as she sleeps through the infection in her wounds. The she-cat twitches and whimpers in her sleep, shifting slightly. The tom silently makes his way to sit beside the nest, watching the slow rise and fall of Sparkfires back, half expecting it to stop at any moment.

Quailcall looks towards the entrance of the den once more, dread filling his belly. "Starclan help us." He says quietly before curling up close to the deputy and shuts his eyes in an attempt to sleep until the patrol returns.

sorry for the short fic but i wanted to write for this moon soo bad and got carried away.

What will Sparkfire and Quailcall do now?

[konohamaru-sensei]

happy birthday @foolishk, i love you so.

laxus x oc / fantasy au

He ripped open the wooden door with full swing, almost pulling it out of its hinges and let it crush into the stone wall on the other side. The dim light of the room spilled into the darkness of the corridor and Laxus was faintly reminded of the first time he had entered this room. How endlessly being lost in underground corridors had led him straight to this heavy, wooden door.

Big steps forward into the room, following the flickering light that illuminated the nymph-tank he’d grown so accustomed to. Back when he was here first, when he had seen the nymph for the first time, it all had been so mysterious and scary, as if every part of this room was specifically designed to keep him away.

Laxus had known as a teenager that his father was shady and weird, that he had abused and misused his mother and shamed his grandfather, but just the extends of his crimes had not been clear to him until he had found this room, until he had found himself standing face to face with such a powerful, but utterly helpless creature.

How long she’d been trapped in their cellar when he found her, he did not know, just that everytime he came to see her after this, her bright blue hair faded into grey. Whatever experiments his father was doing on her it was definitely killing her. Being found by his father several times while snooping around, Laxus took the beating that followed it, but never stopped coming.

He was young and weak then, soon to be sent away to the capital to go to a school, too far away to stop whatever his father was doing. It had given him so much time to get stronger and smarter, to research nymphs and figure out that what his father was seeking was their immortality. Despicable, to climb all the way into the ice mountains just to take a creature's free life away.

Now he was grown and over it. It was time to let her go home, even if he was breaking the law by crossing the border into ice territory. For the last ten years his father had enacted unspeakable suffering on the nymph and Laxus was here to rectify at least parts of it.

Her hair had more grey than he’d ever seen it. When he looked up into the illuminated tank, watched her sway back and forth like a flag in the wind, he thought back of how beautiful she had looked the first time he’d seen her. Nymphs were magical, they were powerful, they were water and not water at the same time. They lived secluded and humans never got to see them, still here she was in front of his eyes.

Slowly, gently, not to scare her, he tapped with his finger against the glass of the tank. The nymph opened her eyes equally slowly, probably expecting his father to stand on the other side. When she finally actively looked at who was in front of her, her eyes suddenly went wide and a big bubble of air exited her mouth.

Laxus knew she could speak underwater, but he could not understand. Assuming that she might have said his name he nodded and pointed at himself and then at the crowbar in his right hand. Her eyes followed his hand movement to the metal piece and she instantly dashed to the back of her tank.

“I’m not going to hurt you with it,” he yelled, but the fear in her eyes told her that she didn’t believe him. Oh, what had his father done to this poor one, he thought and then waved the crowbar around in the direction of the machines surrounding her tank.

She wasn’t connected to anything, he needed to make sure of that. Laxus had always liked playing with electricity, so he knew it went well through water, so he needed to avoid giving her a shock. He turned to the console and took a swing at it, crashing metal onto metal and grinning satisfied when there was a loud humm of malfunctioning machinery.

He looked back to the tank and the lights were still on, the water in the tube still flowing. Right, again, he thought and took another swing at the console, this time crushing half of it and causing a spark to almost burn a hole into his clothes. He checked the tank again and still there was no power outage there. Whatever was keeping the gates closed must be totally disconnected to the console.

The nymph apparently was beginning to understand that he was trying to help her so she swam back to where he was standing, tapping with her long, slender fingers against the glass from the insides. When he looked up at her she pointed over her shoulder, big air bubbles leaving her mouth.

“The opening is at the back?” he asked loudly in hopes his voice would carry. The numpy nodded and turned to show him. In tandem with her swings Laxus followed her to the back of the tube where he could finally see what kept her connected.

He turned the crowbar over his head and swung it down one more time. A loud nose, more sparks flying, and the contraption fell apart. His father seemed to have made the control console more sturdy than this one. And that even though he must have been aware that nymphs can’t survive if they are lacking water.

His father, Laxus realised, had simply not cared if the water ran out of the tank and killed the nymph. He hadn’t cared about her as a living, breathing creature of this planet at all. 

He could feel the anger bubbling again and told himself that he had promised to deal with his father at a later time. Right now this nymph needed to be let out of her confinement. He was going to show her the weather at the surface, he was going to let her out in their family lake, give her time to swim and breathe and find the colour in her life again.

The nymph tapped below her nabe to the glass of the tube and then made a little swimming motion. Laxus followed her movements and took the metal bar into both hands. “That would probably crush the tube and bring the water out,” he said, “My father might have put a drainage in, something that gets it out quickly. That could harm you.”

She hesitated for a second, but then began doing her swinging motions again. He wasn’t satisfied with the idea of taking her out of the water, even if it was just to carry her to the surface. Normal nymphs would have no problem dealing with this for a short amount of time, but who knew how healthy this one was. She didn’t look healthy.

An air bubble left her mouth, then another. “Fine! Hold on tight,” Laxus said and took a wide swing into the glass of the tube. First a small crack apparead, then it got bigger and bigger as water started spilling out. Finally, the glass broke apart, leaving only an avalanche of water behind.

Laxus was pushed back by the force of it, suddenly surrounded by raging waves. He paddled helplessly with his arms trying to find something, anything to hold on to, when his back crashed into the wall behind him. He felt the blood on his tongue and coughed, which just forced more water down his throat.

Suddenly he could feel slender hands sling themselves around his arm and as he cracked open an eye he saw grey hair right in front of his nose. Her eyes were open and seeing through the glass filled water and though he must have been heavy to lift, she did it without looking like he was a burden.

She was so graceful moving through water like this, as if the water and her were one thing. He could not forgive his father for taking her away from her sisters, her ice and snow lakes to be trapped here. He could not forgive himself that it took him ten years to make sure she was free.

Though it felt like time had stood still, only a second passed until she had successfully not only brought him to the surface, but laid him down on a plank of metal to give him something to hold on to.

“Are you alright, Laxus?” she asked and though he was shocked by the fact that she knew his name, he was more shocked by the sound of her voice. A melodic rhythm, like drops on the surface. He’d never heard anything like it.

He grabbed the metal: “Yes.” Then, which a moment to collect himself, he realised that he’d been right about this father putting in a drainage. Though the room had been filled to the brim with water not long ago, it was slowly sinking down.

“But,” he said quickly and grabbed an arm of hers. “Are you going to be alright if the water is gone?”

She considered this for a moment. He realised how long it must have been since she’d been without water, that maybe every measurement she used to have was no longer applicable. “I will be fine,” she concluded quietly.

The drain continued, soon Laxus could stand on his own two feet again. He put himself up to full height. “I will carry you upstairs as fast as possible,” he declared and grabbed the small creature in front of him. The nymph let out a small squeak when he pulled her into his arms, but she did not resist. Turning towards the door of the room he made sure one of her legs was still in water if possible. Give her more time.

Then he ran. Grabbing the nymph close to his chest and hurrying up the maze of stairs into the main house. The nymph was holding on to him, burying her head into his neck as if to hide away from what was to come. Laxus had gotten to know the underground areas of their house well in the days and weeks leading up to this rescue; he knew the fastest way out was through the staff's quarters.

When he finally kicked in the door to the gardens it felt like ages had passed and yet it was probably not longer than half an hour. He stopped for a moment in the sunlight wanting to see how the nymph was reacting to being at the surface.

He had believed to find her looking at the sunlight, but she was looking only at him.

And she was smiling too.

He swallowed hard.

[jorge5000]

Dariali to Juta to Roshka via Khde gorge and Chaukey pass in 5 days (Georgia)

This is a short account of my trek in Georgian mountains I did in late August 2021 starting in Dariali, going to Juta over Kibishi pass, further on to Roshka over Chaukey pass, and ending back in Juta. Hope this will help you plan your own adventure.

In short:

- You absolutely need a permit to trek Dariali to Juta via Khde valley/gorge and you can get it in Dariali at the border facilities.

- Dariali to Juta is the difficult part of the trek meaning there is almost no beaten path (though you just follow the river to the glacier), there is a possibility of encountering bears and you need to cross a glacier or a steep, slippery slope instead. Juta to Roshka is much easier.

- You will be following a river upstream and downstream from Dariali to Juta. Take the usual precaution when consuming the water from the river. The higher up the mountain you are, the less will cattle pollute your water source. From Juta to Roshka water sources are available, but not that plentiful.

- I was surprised that I could get no food whatsoever, without staying in a guesthouse in Roshka.

- You can find the GPS map of the trek and additional info on caucasus-trekking.org (Dariali to Juta route and Juta to Roshka route).

- If you want to make the trek shorter you can cut from just before the glacier to Sno through Eastern Kibishi pass (although you should reach Juta in the same time and finding transport there might be slightly easier). If you want to make the trek longer, I suggest taking the route back from Roshka over Sazdele pass, and then, instead of returning to Juta returning to glacier and taking the East Kibishi pass route to Sno. Beware, though, that this means your trekking permit has to be valid for this period or maybe you can get a new one at the facility here.

Khde gorge. Just follow the river to its source and think about how will you filter the grey glacier water.

Day by day:

Day 1 - Arrive to Tbilisi and/or Tbilisi to Stepantsminda. Head for the Didube station and ask for a minibus to Stepansminda. It’s likely you'll have to wait an hour or two for it to fill up, or agree on a price with the driver straight up and get on the way. Or just enjoy a day off in Tbilisi.

Day 2 - Stepantsminda. Do the easy hike to Gergeti trinity church and beyond. Enjoy the views and return to Stepansminda for some delicious food. Find someone to take you to Dariali next morning to get a hiking permit (propustka). Finding someone who knows someone at the border crossing is better.

Day 3 - Trekking permit and passing the border guard. Early morning taxi to Dariali. You will get your permit in one of the buildings on the left side of the road accessible from a small road going left from the main crossing road. You will have to answer a few questions and will probably be offered three days to do the hike. Expect to have the permit checked four times by the end of the trek so take it seriously. Once you got the permit, go back towards the river next to the Dariali Monastery Complex and start following the track from there. The track starts as a dirt road and ends soon with a mark for trail start. From there on the trail will very soon get difficult to follow or there will be no trail to follow but the general direction is following the river upstream. After you reach the Georgian guard post it will be much easier due to lower vegetation, but still you will most often be creating your own path. There are plenty of raspberries on the way and the bears are well aware of that. You should be able to leave that part well behind you by the end of the day. I pitched my tent here for the first night, above the treeline, in hope of avoiding bears.

Away from the eyes, away from the heart. Away from the tree line, away from bears.

Day 4 - Reaching the glacier. Continue following the river. Again, this is a difficult trek since there is no beaten path. By the middle of this day you should reach the glacier, but still might want to set camp underneath it and cross it on the next day. You have two options for that: either cross the glacier directly, or take the steep path left of the glacier. Crossing the glacier alone is definitely dangerous and inadvisable. Water is melting underneath it and it’s impossible to determine ice thickness. If it breaks under your feet you might find yourself in a few meters deep ice hole. Left of the glacier is a very steep hillside with slippery and unstable rocks. Still, it is likely to be the path of your choice if you are alone.

The glacier path on the right, and the steep alternative left, just out of the image

Day 5 - down the mountain and to Juta. Climb the slope left of the glacier, enjoy a short break, and continue down the mountain. A river will start forming soon on your left, although it will be quite a walk away from your path. You will pass two more checkpoints before finally reaching the asphalted road after the second permit check. Just follow the road to the right to go to Juta. If you ae looking for a place to pitch your tent near Juta, your best option will probably be to start the path towards Roshka and find a place there. Otherwise, you should be able to find some accommodation in Juta.

Day 6 - Juta to Roshka via Chaukey pass. Follow the well beaten path and use the GPS map available here if needed to start from Juta to Roshka. Don’t expect to be alone in this route. After the Chaukey pass the path down gets very steep. Afterwards, just follow the paths in the valley to finally reach Roshka. Stay there or return to a great campsite near one of the lakes.

Over the Chaukey pass

Day 7 - Roshka to Juta. You can take a different way back from Roshka (via Sazdele pass) Reportedly, on that route you will pass some shepherds who will be happy to meet you and provide you with some food. Once you each Juta it shouldn’t be difficult to find a place in a minivan going back to Tbilisi. Drivers are likely to approach you in Juta center.

This guardian of the mountain might provide you with company when going over the Chaukey pass

[newengland-alligator]

Skyrim lost it's vibrant colors when Ulfric banned the Argonians from entering Windhelm

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Merging multiple species into society

( Don’t forget to come see my on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord )

Across the landing field the ground crews were in frantic motion. Landing pads that had been used as temporary supply dumps were cleared, refugees and civilians were moved up for transport off world, and for the first time in seven months the Galaxian base commander braided his face tentacles.

From his office overlooking the entire compound, Commander Zavar kept watch of the progress from the corner of his eye while his main focus was on the mirror in front of him. Carefully observing his reflection he intertwined the several dozen chest length tentacles that grew just beneath his jaw into elegant patterns.

He hadn’t bothered to for the last few months as the braiding of tentacles was meant to show a sign of respect. A Galaxian with unbraided tentacles was essentially stating that whomever they spoke with they held them in low regard. Zavar hadn’t braided them for some time as he felt no need to show signs of respect to anyone under his command.

It had been months since the landing base was established with the intent to use it as a jumping off point in new offensives. When Zavar had been given command he felt that he would be helping bring an end to this bloody conflict by maintaining such a crucial facility. Yet just as the offensive was about to begin their enemies decided to launch a massive counter offensive on an entirely different continent. In short order the manpower which had been set aside for the Galaxian offensive was pulled away to mount a rapid defense and halt this no enemy offensive.  

One by one troop ships stopped coming to his base and requested materials became increasingly diverted to other theaters of the war until finally this once crucial launching point became nothing more than a gas station for passing supply ships.

He grimaced as he made a wrong twist while braiding remembering his degrading morale and the effect it had on those under him. The drive that had once fueled Zavar was sapped away by months of repetitive supply transfers and paperwork, and this soon turned to ever laxening of base discipline among the work crews. When Zavar’s second in command came to him with information that several of the crews had taken an abandoned storage building and had turned it into an entertainment club of sorts, all he did at the time was put on his military cap and take a walk over to it for a drink himself.

That had all changed last night when in the middle of darkness moon Zavar had received an offworld communication from central command. After weeks of careful negotiation the human government they had agreed to join the war effort on the Galaxian side. A substantial force of at least four of their divisions had already arrived in system and would be sending down a battalion of 500 soldiers to further secure and expand Zavar’s base.

Within moment of the calls end Zavar had ordered all of his crews to standby and began issuing orders with renewed fire. As Zavar finished braiding his tentacles and looked out across his base he saw all of the landing pads had been cleared, and with moments to spare.

A loud rumbling could be heard and Zavar could feel the room slowly vibrating as he looked to the clouded skies.

Breaching through the murky grey clouds that had covered the sky for weeks Zavar saw a human landing craft. It was a bulky black mass of metal with a design reminiscent of an overweight bird Zavar thought as it slowly descended towards the base. He was slightly disappointed in the lacking design aesthetics of the human craft, but he had remembered that these transports were designed for carrying large amounts of troops to safe areas rather than enemy held landings. Zavar watched it for a few moments more before leaving his office and making for the landing pads.

It was a short ride from his office to landing pad three were Zavar met his second in command already waiting with a small detachment of honor guard. He exited the vehicle just as the landing craft set down sending gusts of wind out from the engines as they slowly died down.

As Zavar took his place at the head of the honor guard the loading door of the transport popped open with a loud thud and began to lower.

He had heard stories of humans before, how they were great warriors of the highest caliber, that their reflexes were heightened to such a level in the heat of battle they could see an enemy from miles away, that they could lose limbs and heal after a period of time only to forge new ones and return for more combat; truly these beings would bring a swift end to this war.

The ramp finally touched the surface of the landing pad and Zavar could finally see inside of the transport. What he saw rather surprised him however…..

At the top of the ramp stood several ranks of human soldiers dressed in combat gear, but at the head of them was a uniformed Kliptec; their serpent body draped across the decking of the craft.

Zavar cast a side long glance at his second who looked as dumb founded as Zavar was feeling before looking back at the Kliptec. Their upper body was humanoid in shape, yet they bore more hallmarks of a reptile. Scaled skin, slit like eyes, sharpened fingers, and in place of feet was a roughly six foot long tail.

As the Kliptec slithered down the ramp towards Zavar and the front ranks of humans followed Zavar was greeted by further confusion. Mixed in with the humans soldiers Zavar noted several other species not native to the human worlds.

A Draxic casually stomped forward with the ranks appearing to carry some form of heavy weapon casually over their shoulder, a Flinchestet with a communication device glided across the decking as if its limbs could not be bothered to touch the floor, a Valmorian with a red cross painted across their helmet stood alongside a Combra whose face had been ritually scared for the coming battles; but most surprising of all was the towering figure at the very back of the transport.

A hive warrior drone draped in the uniform of humanity. It held no weapon between its claws but Zavar was positive it would have no need of such a device to rip through the lot of them. Some of the honor guard made let out whimper of fear and one even went so far as to start to bring their weapon to bear.

With only a look Zavar’s second command was at the guard’s side and snatched the weapon from his hands in a single motion.

“Be. Calm.” Those two words were all he said to the guard before returning to his place next to Zavar, the weapon he had taken from the guard clutched at his side.

His men looked at their commander with silent awe as they saw Zavar look unphased at the sudden turn of events. Instead of humanity’s reinforcements they appeared to have been given a cavalcade of species that had once fought against humanity. In truth Zavar was deeply concerned about this development, but the one thing keeping him from panicking was his observations of the actual human soldiers present.

Their eyes lacked a sense of fear one would normally experience when coming upon something, or someone, so unnatural to themselves. They were alert and disciplined which was all that Zavar needed to know to reassure him that things were as they should be.

The Kliptec finally slithered in front of Zavar and gave a crisp salute which Zavar returned with a bow of comradery.

“Lt. Colonel Reginal Seth of the 17th Engineer battalion.” the Kliptec said.

“Base Commander Zavar Hatsval,” Zavar replied as he motion to his second, “and my second Xixvil Nog, of the Galaxian expeditionary force.”

“I must admit,” Zavar began as the column of forces began marching past the trio, “when I heard we were getting human reinforcements I was not expecting this.”

Reginal’s sighed and rolled his eyes as if he had heard that same statement a thousand times before.

“Our military allows anyone to enlist so long as they were born within our borders.” he stated as he turned to see his soldiers march by to the storage facilities. “It is an efficient system to use every natural resource available to your advantage, so why limit to a single species military?”

“We do not ask others to fight in our stead.” Xixvil spoke as he watched several humans walk by.

“And how has that turned out for you here?” Reginal said as his serpent mouth twisted to a half grin. “Because from where I am it looks like we’re here to fight in your stead.”

Xixvil’s mouth dropped open in shock before morphing into one of anger while Reginal continued smirking. Zavar thought he was about to see his second lash out when the hive drone he had seen before marched over to them.

It stood easily twice as high as a Galaxian and three times as high as the human soldiers around it. Its collection of eyes were constantly darting around randomly as if trying to observe everything at once while it hovered over the trio. It slowly opened its mouth to reveal rows of sharpened teeth as it surprised Zavar once again.  

“Dro…..go…..where?”

In all of his life in the Galaxian military he had never heard of a hive drone capable of speech. In the past the Galaxian’s had fought several wars with the Hive and at every encounter the drone warrior caste was found to be near mindless killing machines without a queen’s control. To hear one speak in a language he could understand, let alone in broken sentences was enough to end the careers of several Galaxian biologists.

“Report to Sgt Morris, Dro.” Reginal said as if the tower beast of flesh and chitin before him was just another average soldier.

The drone’s eyes stopped twitching for a moment as if concentrating before continuing “Morris…..yes…find…Morris….going….now…sir.” It tilted a blade like appendage which took a moment for Zavar to realize it was saluting Reginal which the Kliptec swiftly returned.

“Carry on Dro.”

With that the drone shambled off after the majority of humans who had left the landing zone leaving only a few behind to begin unloading the battalion’s equipment. Reginal turned to them and handed them a data pad. “Once our gear is unloaded we will begin expanding the landing fields by three additional pads. After that we’ll start reinforcing the outer perimeter walls and compound infrastructure.”

Zavar took the data pad and began going over the details while Xixvil continued to watch Dro walk away.

“I do not mean to be rude, but why did you call that drone “Dro”?” Xixvil asked once the drone was far enough away.

Reginal shrugged, an oddly human gesture for such an alien being, before answering “That’s his name; Dro Harris.”

“It was my understanding that hive drones lacked the capacity to develop individuality.” Xixvil continued as he watched the drone in the distance stop in front of a humanoid looking figure before following them into a storage bay.

“Normally they aren’t able to, but humans have this strange ability to impart personalities into beings should they stay around them long enough.”

Both Zavar and Xixvil looked at Reginal dumbfounded.

“Are you serious?” they asked, to which Reginal simply nodded.

“One of his parents fought in the human hive wars and took an egg back as a trophy. Turns out it hatched and they decided to raise him as their son.”

“I can’t imagine humans reacted well to a hive drone in their midst.”

To their surprised Reginal shook his head. “From what he’s told me he used to be a successful actor before he enlisted; he was popular in fast food commercials.”

“Now I know you are making things up.” Zavar cut in, unable to believe what he was hearing.

“Humans do weird things like this all the time,” Reginal said, “they act distant at first but once they warm up to you the majority of them will welcome you with open arms and treat you like kin.”

He stretched out his arms so Zavar and Xixvil could get a good look at him.

“People assume humans are barbaric isolationist xenophiles, and while it is true there are some of them out there they do not make up the entirety of humanity.”

“There are humans that will sit down with complete strangers and within an hour be closer than brothers with them, humans that will drop everything to come help you even when there is no benefit to themselves, humans that will check up on you just to see if you are alright.”

“It’s weird but at times it’s almost as if humanity has been sick of just knowing only humans and will throw themselves at anything different just so they can experience something new, something exotic and exciting.”

Reginal looked at the two Galaxians as they took in what he had to say and shook his head. He gave a quick salute and then slithered after his men as the heavy equipment began rolling off the transport leaving the Galaxians in the dust.  

[ghost-like-pale]

fuckin' perv

info: some gross guy thinks you're his, sapnap thinks otherwise. 》 female clothing/anatomy, they/them pronouns 》 irl + romantic 》 1.4k words

warnings: (sexual) harassment and assault, physical fighting, hurt/comfort, swearing

a/n: ty for the support on my last piece ♡ please enjoy

this blog it meant as a way of coping with trauma/mental issues, please don't report it. if you don't want to see what i write, please just block me.

——♤——

the evening sun shone an orange glow over the city. the chatter of the citizens rang through the streets past all the tall buildings, the cars and taxis making their way to their patron's destinations and the smell of your favorite restaurants wafted past the pavement. you've grown up in the city, getting used to it, yet never getting bored.

all of these memories made you think about your boyfriend; he was a real country boy - born and raised in texas and everything. it never failed to bring a smile to your face whenever he pointed out a particularly tall office or a pretty neon 'open' sign.

something he's never been very fond of is the people. specifically older men. they always had a certain look on their face as you walked by, making him swing an arm around your hip or slipping a hand in your pocket. he's always been quite protective over his lover. you didn't mind, though.

—

there wasn't much time to reminisce on your loverboy right now - you were going to see him today! your car broke the day before, so with great displeasure you had to take the bus. you hated public transport. everyone was so close to each other, the air was stuffy and there was always someone to make you horribly uncomfortable.

you pulled your mask further over your nose when you reached the stop. the small space was bordered by plastic panels and a poster for some music event, nothing of interest. the sound coming from your earbuds made your foot tap the the rhythm until the bus finally emerged from the passing traffic.

the ride was peaceful, which made you strangely wary - like a calm moment before the storm. you didn't mind the busride being quiet, but the feeling never shook.

after waving at the busdriver and thanking him kindly, you hopped off the vehicle onto the concrete pavement. three other people walked out with you; and old couple, one holding a walker and a 20-something year old man. the clicking of his tongue grew impatient as he got stuck behind the couple. after a moment the two elders managed to get off the bus safely and the man could finally get to his stop.

you didn't pay them any mind, you wanted to see sapnap as soon as possible. you kept walking at a brisk pace, growing more exited with every step. after passing and crossing a few streets you started to feel uneasy. feeling eyes drilling right through your back, you rummaged in your bag and pulled out a small handheld mirror and lip gloss. as you were applying your gloss you glanced behind you, scanning the faces you could catch from within you peripheral vision.

you were surprised to see the impatient man from the bus stop a few feet behind you. now realizing the situation, you hastily stuff everything back into your bag and start walking again, this time quicker than before. the stabbing look didn't shake, however.

you were getting more anxious as it got darker and the crowds became scarce. the destination was on the edge of the city, where there was nothing other than small stores and the occasional crappy apartment building. the pavement was easy to see if you looked down; no polished dress shoes, no sneakers, no stilettos, nothing. just the occasional group of chatting teenagers passing by or an overworked retail worker walking home.

with every frantic step forward he seemed to get one step closer. the sound of your feet tapping on the floor came to a halt as you arrived at a crosswalk with a red light. the man hummed an unorganized tune and stood behind you and casually waited for the light to turn green. everytime you'd move, so would he. the brief moment waiting in front of the crosswalk felt like centuries.

—

ding. the pole emitted a bright green and you sighed in relief. you rushed over to the other side of the street, making sure not to hit someone on the way there. as you were moving along you suddenly felt a hand on your back, slowly gliding down over your-

"what are you doing?!"

the panic in your voice didn't phase the man, though he did take his hand off your lower half and placed it on your neck instead. he slowly backed you into a small alleyway while muttering a response.

"calm down, cutie. it's just a hand."

you slapped his hand off yourself, losing the hope you had when you realized you were the only one with him on this block.

"let me go, you creep!"

this response to his 'compliment' didn't please him; he harshly grabbed you by the roots of your hair and pushed you against the cold brick wall of a corner store.

"listen here, bitch. you're gonna listen to me real good, and you're gonna obey everything i tell you, understood?"

you whimpered in pain, shutting your eyes and tears dipping at your chin.

"understood?!"

with another yank at your hair you mewled and nodded hastily. this seemed to satisfy him.

"good. now, let's have some fun, shall we?"

his hand rested on your thigh and gradually made its way up, under your skirt until it hit your underwear. the other was around your wrists, holding them both with his larger hands to the side of your head. his feet trapped yours, putting his weight on your toes so you wouldn't kick him.

"ngh-!"

"heh, can't handle stimulation, can you? guess this will be more fun than i imagined- ugh!"

the man was knocked back harshly, the hand that connected with his face quickly retreating to the body it belonged to. sapnap. the man felt his jaw, there was blood dripping off his lip.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING TO THEM?!"

sapnap boomed in anger at the man. before he could even think of an answer he was hit again by the same hand. sapnap was now right next to you, him seeing your trembling figure in his peripheral vision. once he was sure that gross excuse of a person was going to stay down he turned to you.

his entire body language changed; his arms turning from tense limbs into a welcoming place to rest in, his chest forming into a warm pillow to fall into, his eyes from a slaughtering rage into a kind and sympathetic expression. your tears were already flowing as you sank into his embrace. he engulfed you completely, shielding you from everything and anyone, soothing the intense fear and horror you just experienced.

"you're okay now, baby. i got you, i got you."

his tone was smooth like honey, the words pulling you further in his secure clutch. the screaming must've attracted a few people, because before you knew it your hug was interrupted by him gently loosening his grasp and lowering his voice.

"we should get home, we don't want this hellhole to become a exhibition. here-"

he unwrapped his arms and pulled his grey hoodie over his head and handed the clothing article to you.

"wear this, baby."

you accepted his hoodie and threw it over your upper body. when you were finished sapnap grabbed your hand and guided you out the alleyway and turning a corner. his car was parked a little further.

"i wanted to give you a nice ride through the outer city, but i think you'd rather be home, am i right?"

you nodded. your face was stung by the wet streaks on your face with the cooling air hitting your features. you eventually reached the car, sapnap sitting down into the driver's position and you plopping down onto the passenger seat.

—

the soft revving of the car's engine made for a nice background noise as you drove over to sapnap's house. you reached the destination quicker than expected. time didn't feel like it was passing at this point.

your legs refused to move, even when sapnap opened the door for you. sapnap, understanding the situation, picked you up bridal-style and carried you and your bag out the vehicle.

—

your body was weak, both from the late hours of the night and your vivid memory of what happened about half an hour ago. the mattress sank next to you as you snuggled further under the covers. sapnap radiated warmth, making you move your body towards him and latching onto him like a koala.

"rest, angel. we'll talk about it in the morning."

his voice reverberated in his chest, the vibrations bringing you comfort. his hand found a good spot on the top of your head, lightly pushing it into him.

"good night, (y/n)."

you hummed as a response before passing out. sapnapchuckled at your cute resting face.

"sleep well, baby. you deserve it."

—

thank you for reading. please don't be too harsh on me, heh

masterlist

[besotted-eros]

Visit from a Ghost

Eren x Fem!Reader

Content: Angst, smut, unprotected sex, oral (f! receiving), pining, overstim, dirty talk, slight blood, bruising, established relationship, canon compliant

A/N: so this is a companion piece to my obsessed! Eren headcanons and fic. References to manga spoilers, heavy on the angsty sex. Very self indulgent. Hope you enjoy!

When you saw the figure at your bedroom window, lounging upon the sill as though he was meant to be there, you drew your gun.

It was a small, angry thing, wrestled from the grasps of a Marleyan soldier and entrusted to you to help protect the queen. You had yet to use it, but levelled it naturally now, letting out a growled command for the shadowed being to raise his hands.

When you saw the figure turn from your bedroom window, lazily leaning his head back so his viridian gaze met yours, you dropped your gun.

It hit the floorboards with a metallic thud, and in a better context you would have held your breath, jumped away from the risk of a bullet discharging from the fall. But you were motionless, staring at the apparition in front of you. That was what he felt like. A ghost, conjured from beyond the veil.

"Eren." You said it like one calls to the dead, your voice shaky and unconfident. But brimming, with hope. With fear.

"I come all this way to see you, and your first reaction is to shoot me?" He murmured, his rich voice creeping through the dark to find the holes in your heart.

 Moth bitten, hung up in a closet and forgotten, you had lost the memory of the pain and euphoria that Eren brought you. But you could feel it now, searing your chest.

"You deserve worse. Months. It's been months." The words tumbled from your throat as you fought the urge to cry. "I didn't know where you were. For months. And they won't tell me what what happened, no one will." You felt like a child, choking on your words as your hands bunched into fists. The only thing you knew is that you were meant to raise the alarm as soon as you saw him. But you couldn't. Not for him. You wanted to fall to your knees, to see how he'd rush across the room to gather you in his arms.

"You don't want me to answer that truthfully." He moved from the windowsill, feet silently hitting the ground as he faced you completely.

You didn't recognize him. Those were the eyes of your lover, those the lips you kissed, the brow you rested yours upon. The man who was once the boy you slept beside, you fought beside, you grew beside. The face you had seen overcome with passion, with pain and glory. But he was stoic, as grey as the three walls. You had felt him slipping before Marley, but now?

Even though he was in the same room, breathing your air, he felt gone.

"I do. I know you're the one who pushed me onto this duty, you made Hisu call for me, and for what? To keep me stupid and ignorant?" You spat the words at his feet, and it made him bristle.

"To protect you, why else? This stupid farm house is the safest place on the island. Safer than any of the walls, or the inner castle, or-"

"Safer than with you?"

That touched him. The repetition of his vow, that as long as you were by his side you would come to no harm. That he would hold you with his heart and protect you with his life. As long as you stayed within reach of him.

"Yes. Safer than with me. So much safer." He didn't want that to be true. He wanted to be where you belonged.

But he needed to make the world safe for you.

"I needed to make sure you were taken care of, that I could do the things I was meant to do without risking you." He crossed his arms in front of his body, and the tone of his voice bordered on petulant. But despite his stoic face, you could tell he was nervous. The clench of his jaw, how his eyes looked past you instead of at you. This wasn't a man who had forgone emotions. Just a mask.

Maybe that was your Eren after all.

"I know you hate me-"

"I don't hate you." You cut him off sharply, reaching up to touch the pendant at your throat. It was a piece of sea glass, tumbled by the waves to the colour of his eyes. You had picked it up on a beach patrol, and told him how it matched him perfectly. He had stolen it out of your pocket that night and fashioned a cage with stolen wire. The next morning it hung from the leather cord his father's key once did, and found its permanent home upon your neck.

He told you it was his eye and his heart, and to keep watch over it as he kept watch over you.

He had been so gentle. You remembered how the sea breeze rustled the hair, grown to the nape of his neck, how he had given you a smile that had become so rare. He had known then that the boat would be returning without him.

"I don't hate you even if I want to. I never could. I... I miss you." The dam in your throat broke as you hiccuped a single sob. And the dam in his face broke, eyebrows upturned with remorse.

He had made you cry. 

"No, no, no." He murmured, crossing the floor to take you in his arms. He was taller, his body somehow even more wiry than when he had left. Toughened by hardship. But the way his fingers curled around the back of your head, the way his arm wrapped around your waist. That was how he held you. How he always had. The familiarity made you weak, and you clung to him desperately, fists mangling the fabric of his shirt as you buried your face against him.

"Y/n." He said it through gritted teeth, and then repeated it. And then again.

You thought back to every time you had embraced after being apart. The sound of his feet pounding the stone of Wall Maria to throw his arms around you, his cries of your name loud enough to send birds flying. How he had whispered your name when you saw him after Shiganshina, his face buried in the crook of your neck and the weight of the world suddenly so much more heavy upon his shoulders.

"Eren." You reached up, taking his face delicately in your hands. His malachite gaze was wide, wild with desperation and hurt. "What happened to you, 'ren?" You asked, and his eyes shut tightly. "What did you do?"

"Please. Don't ask me. I'll answer to God, but I can't answer to you."

You could have pressed. He would have given up, at least... The Eren who loved you a lifetime ago would have. But the darkness in his mouth when he pressed his lips to your forehead convinced you not to.

He had followed you so diligently when you were young. Seeking the peace he had somehow found in you. And as you pulled him towards your lips, you knew it was that same comfort he was searching for. Peace, amongst his life of nothing but war. So you kissed serenity onto his lips, knowing that this may be the last taste of it he would ever have.

He groaned softly against your mouth, still for a moment before pressing into the touch. His fingers were gentle as they brought you closer, and closer still. Tugging at your hips, your shoulders, your hair, coiling around your neck. He was rediscovering you, reminding himself of the map of your body. It was like he was finding his way home again.

"I missed you. I thought about you, so much." He exhaled over your lips, and you tried to keep the welling of your tears from spilling over again. You had needed that. Needed to know that he still breathed for you. "Even when it hurt. I thought about you."

"I thought about you too." You whispered, stroking your hands through his silken hair. "I hoped... I didn't think it was smart, but I hoped. You would come to me."

Your hands traversed his chest and back, running down his shoulders and muscular arms. You grabbed his wrists, feeling the bump of your hair tie still upon it. He lifted for you to see, and you pressed a kiss to his hot skin, unable to hold back the tears anymore. You watered his skin with them. 

"See? I kept you with me. Always." his mouth was against your forehead, tendons in his wrist flexing. "I lost a lot of myself. But I never lost you."

You let out a choked whimper and he pressed his cheek to yours, murmuring your name softly. Finally your knees gave out, but his arms were vices around your waist, holding you as you leaned against him. But he came down with you, kneeling with you in the puddle of moonlight. It painted him white and black, his shadows so much deeper but where it graced him, he glowed.

"I'm sorry." You sighed into his shoulder, all but pawing at his back. "I just... Am I dreaming, Eren? Are you going to be gone when my eyes open in the morning?"

He didn't answer for a moment, face buried in your hair. "I'm real. This is real. I promise."

"Prove it." You whispered, turning your mouth to his ear like a bloom to sun. "I've had this nightmare, every night since you've left. Prove this isn't one."

His fingers curled around your upper arms as his eyes bore into yours. They were shadowed, haunted by things you knew you'd never know. "Tell me how. I'll do anything for you."

Almost, you wanted to correct him. He'd do almost anything for you.

"Love me."

"I do." He murmured, voice strained as he moved to cup your face, his thumb stroking across your lips. You parted them, inviting his digit to press against your tongue. His eyes widened slightly, and you saw something spark. It encouraged you to wrap your lips around him, suckling at his first knuckle. You let it pop from your mouth, dragging your tongue from his palm to the pad.

"Show me. Show me the way only you can." You spoke softly against his skin, and he let out a soft groan, from deep deep within his chest.

"Only me?" He whispered hoarsely, hands squeezing the sides of your face. You nodded as best as you could. "You haven't touched another since I've been gone?"

"Of course not. Since that first night, since that first kiss..." You gripped his wrists tightly, voice thick with emotions you couldn't name. "It's only been you, forever just you."

He kissed you like he wanted to consume you. Open mouthed, hot breath, all teeth and clawing fingers. You fell into him, letting him pull you up and push you towards your bed. You fell backwards, welcoming the soft mattress against your back. A stark contrast to his body, all hard lines and firm hands.

Eren's heat was enough to melt you. You didn't realise you had been so cold. Your legs wrapped around him, pulling his warmth further against your core. He grunted softly against your mouth, jutting his hips forward so you could feel how you made him.

Your lips trailed from his, kissing along the sharp line of his jaw, up to his ear. You didn't need to say anything into it, just your breath made him wild. He tore at your shirt, sending buttons flying across the room as the moonlight met your skin. In response you pulled at his, unhooking your legs to push at his pants. You wanted skin, you wanted bare vulnerable touch. You wanted to see the parts of him he kept hidden.

He never scarred. Your hands traced the unmarred landscape of his torso as he flexed underneath you. No matter what horrors his body faced, it would never leave a lasting impression on him. The titan in him assured that.

You wondered if it was the same for love, as your teeth pricked at his skin, making him shiver. You marked him, delicate and light. In the sun it would look like stepping stones, tracing the path of a lovers touch. If it would even last till morning.

But you loved him anyway, even if it was temporary.

"So beautiful." His voice was guttural, hands cupping your breasts after yanking your bra down. Your nipples didn't have time to harden under his thumb before his mouth was upon them, suckling gently. You gripped his chestnut hair in response, letting out a soft whine of pleasure that encouraged him to suck harder. He switched sides, leaving the cold air to caress the wetness at your precipice.

"I can hear your heartbeat" he murmured, pausing for a moment to press himself against your flesh. "It's so fast."

Your nails traced vows on the back of his neck, down his back as far as you could reach. "You make me like this." You whispered, and his teeth sunk into your skin, making your back arch. "You scare me. You turn me on. You make my head dizzy and my st-stomach fill with butterflies." He stripped you as you spoke, pushing down the soft fabric of your pants, then the cotton of your panties. You felt the kiss of the cold night air for a moment, drifting through the window. And then his fingers were upon you, slowly stroking along your aching entrance and your slick lips.

"I make you wet." He murmured against your skin, and you flushed, nodding.

"Yes, you do." You responded, moving your hips along his hand, encouraging him. He obliged happily, digits wet with your desire now sliding into your hole. You had been so long neglected, not feeling the desire to even touch yourself without him there to see. He could feel your tightness, how you gripped his fingers.

"My sweetheart," he purred, lifting his face to gaze up at you. His eyes were heavy lidded, almost hiding the jade irises that haunted your dreams. "You're so tight, spread your legs." You obeyed him as easily as breathing, opening your legs as he began to kiss his way further down. You whined again, and his fingers gripped your thighs, forcefully enough to close them slightly.

"The fucking noises you make..." He hissed, breath hot against your pussy. He dragged a tongue from the bottom, to the very top, glancing off of your clit in a way that made you cry out. "I want you to keep quiet so we don't get caught but..." Another languid lick, another lewd gasp. "I want to make you scream too."

Your hand came down hard on the back of his head, gripping his hair tightly. He groaned against you, sending vibrations through you. You didn't mean to be hard, to have tugged so roughly. But Eren loved it, eyes glinting as he sank his tongue into you, letting your plush walls envelope the muscle eagerly. Each time your hand twitched, responding to the waves of pleasure he drew from you, you'd pull more. And it would drive him forward, tongue sliding across your lips desperately, lips closing around your clit to suckle at it.

Your body was uncontrollable, hips lifting from the bed and chest heaving. At points it felt like he was drinking from you, loud slurps as he thumbed your clit. The movement repeated, becoming faster and faster. The pleasure mounted, a  knot tightened where his tongue touched you.

"Do it." He purred against you, feeling how your legs trembled and thighs touched his ears. He knew you, knew what every jerk of your body meant. "On my tongue, want to taste you."

That was what made the bud burst, your hips rocking desperately against him as your pussy fluttered, overcome with its first orgasm in months. It coursed through you, and you felt the bed wet with your love. 

Your toes curled with pleasure and you moved onto your elbows, staring down at him.

"Eren," you whimpered, and his eyes opened once more. From your vantage point you could see how his hips moved, thrusting slowly against the mattress. He was as desperate for you as you were for him."Eren I need you. I need you so bad." With a final pop of your clit, one that made you gasp, he pulled back and straightened up. His cock bobbed as he looked at you, eyes filled with a dangerous mixture of love and lust. He was dripping, your wetness from his chin and his pre-cum from his mushroom head.

"How badly?"

You brought your legs to your chest slowly, and his eyes dropped from your face to your heat. Your hole closed around emptiness, so desperate to be filled. "More than anything."

His fist closed around his shaft, stroking slightly as he stared at you with a slack jaw, face softened with awe. He always looked at you as though you hung the moon. As if you were responsible for everything soft and wonderful in the world. You watched as he touched himself and his mouth twisted into a grin.

"Did this..." He whispered, his hand moving faster, the noises filling the room. They were hot, lewd. The hot slick of his skin, your moans rising to meet it. "Did this when I thought of you."

The thought of him, so far away from you, deep in trouble but still overcome by his want, the aching need of you. It was enough to make you gush visibly, and Eren moaned at the sight. Before you had the chance to beg again he was at your entrance, hands pushing on the backs of your thighs. You pulled at him, bringing him to your lips so you could kiss your moans into his mouth.

Because the moment he started pushing, moan you did. Loud and desperate, feeling how he spread you. How he made you stretch to fit him like a glove.

He was mumbling in your ear, alternating between sweet calls of your name and darkened swears. Your nails dragged down his back, digging into his smooth skin and making steam rise. His hips were slow, but only for a moment. The need took over quickly, and you bucked to meet him as best as you could. But he was long, long enough to make you start each time he bottomed out in you.

"Eren, Eren, Eren," you whispered into the dark, each iteration becoming more and more sloppy. He grabbed your face, pulling himself up so he could stare at you. Sweat beaded on his elegant forehead, his long hair slicked back. But his eyes glowed in the lowlight, focusing on your face as though nothing but you existed.

He pounded you in time with your chants, each drill concentrated on getting as much of himself into you as he could. He filled your needy hole like he filled your heart. Wholly, fully. Enough to make your eyes well with tears.

He caught one that trickled down the side of your face, lapping it up with his long tongue. You gasped for air, twisting his hair in your fingers as legs wrapped around him desperately. You wanted to stay like this, stay connected to him forever. His hands traversed you, finding the places he had made home. The curve of your waist, the precipice of your hips, the valley under your ass as he pulled you up further, hitting you now at an angle that dragged across the nub on your inner wall.

And then he lifted you, pulling back to sit on his heels and to suspend you in his arms. You grasped his face as you looked down at him, your hair falling like a curtain. Hiding him from the world, the world that would take him from you. He was beautiful. All wild eyes, soft pouting lips. His fine features were shadowed, his expression twisted with pleasure. You kissed him, once. Twice. Three times. Each time deeper.

Stay here.

You wanted to say as he began to bounce you, sliding you upon his length, fingers digging into the soft plush of your ass.

Stay here, we can be okay.

His mouth was hot on your neck and shoulders, leaving bruises that you worried would outlast him.

Stay here, I can love you safe here.

But all that came out of your mouth was a keening moan, your walls fluttering as you came like a river, washing over him. Your head was thrown back in ecstasy, the wave of euphoria making you tremble and making him growl. He bite your shoulder, drawing soft droplets of blood, and you felt his hips stutter, and the telltale wetness that heralded his own cum. Filling you, as it should. He moaned, vulnerable and wanton into your shoulder.

"That's fucking it, baby. Cream on my cock." He cooed, his pace unrelenting as he fucked you through both of your orgasms. You were relieved when he let you fall back onto the bed, eyes opening to pull in for a kiss.

But he didn't stop.

"Er-eren..." You whimpered, and he kissed you hard, enough to bruise the pulp of your lip.

"Hold on... Hold on to me..." He whispered, teeth dragging across your sensitive flesh. You obliged, throwing your arms around his neck, legs circling him and pulling him in to the hilt. He pulled back, snapping in quickly, his pace sloppy and hurried.

"Need more...need more of you and I..." A gasp, a throb from deep within you. "need to give you all of me."

You were seeing stars. Bursting across your vision like supernovas. Though your limbs clung to him, the pleasure grew almost unbearable. A burning fire twisting between your legs, making you jerk and throb. It's like you could feel him in ways you never could.

The drip of his sweat, watering the forgotten lands of your body. The way his skin soothed yours, healing empty wounds. How his hair shifted, a lock falling to caress your cheek.

And his heartbeat. You felt it. Inside you, beating as though it was your own. The sensation drove you wild, clawing at his shoulders and yanking at his ochre locks.

"Gonna- it's gonna..." You whimpered, unable to form coherence. He drove into you faster, nodding against you. You were reduced to a babbling mess, eyes rolled back, mouth slack.

"Yeah, yeah baby yeah me too. Gonna cum in you again. Take it, take me. Take it all." He said, his voice thick with lust as he clawed into you, the slam of his hips hitting you in the most unimaginable of ways. He reared back suddenly, gripping your face hard enough to hurt as he placed his brow to yours.

"I love you." He whispered.

"I love you too." You replied, and with that you were both over the cliff, bodies shaking with pleasure. He filled you, his hot cum spurting from the slight space between you. His hand slammed against the head board, chest heaving, hips stuttering. But his eyes never left yours, gaze glazed with pleasure. His weight collapsed against you, and you cradled him, murmuring as his lips pressed to yours.

"Say it again." He demanded, hand moving to cup your cheek. "Say you love me."

"I love you." You turned your head to kiss his palm. "I love you, Eren. I love you."

He let out a soft sound, resting his mouth against your cheek. "More." He demanded, rolling over now and pulling you with him. His arms caged you, in a way that made you never want to be free. "I want a lifetimes worth."

"I'll give you a few months." You muttered, and could feel him smile against the top of your head. You wondered when was the last time he did that. When would be the next. "Just to catch you up." His hands stroked through your hair, teasing knots from it. You laid your ear flat to his toned chest. "You'll have to get the rest next time." His hand faltered and then tightened, pushing you into him. You could hear his heart pick up speed.

"Y/n-"

"Don't." You interrupted him. It was sharper than you intended, but you thought you had the right to it. "Don't say a word."

He went silent, resuming his grooming of your locks.

"Tell me we'll see each other again. Even if it's for a moment. Just once more. I don't want this to be it." His hands flattened on your back as he held you.

"I promise." He murmured. "We'll see each other again. But by then you'll hate me."

You didn't argue. Somehow you knew.

"For now, I love you." You pulled yourself to him, kissing his mouth with sweetness. You whispered it, over and over. Like a promise. Like a prayer. You said until your voice was hoarse, curled up on your side as his body surrounded you. You fell asleep with it on your tongue.

And you woke up to an empty bed.

[iwantutobehapppier]

We Will Wake Up

Pairing: Dark!Steve Rogers x Reader Summary: Steve and Bucky seemed to be everywhere you looked, certainly this familiarity between the three of you would only bode well when you seek refuge at their place during the Shutdown.  Warnings: 18+ Only, Dark Steve Rogers, somnophilia, dubcon bordering on noncon. Please if any of this bothers you read no further. There will be more fics for Festival of Smut with little to no dark themes.  Word Count:  2,536 A/N: Happy 2nd night of Chanukah! I give you some dark/creep Steve. I have been tinkering with this one for a long time now. @sapphirescrolls​ really helped fuel this along with Tyler by the Toadies.

You know Steve’s there. He’s always there now. He knows you know. He parades around as if his presence is pure coincidence. It is equal parts laughable and concerning.

Looking out the corner of your eye you catch the tall bulky frame of his best friend Bucky beside him as they wait for their coffee. Bucky a man of little flourish in coffee grabs his cup and sits right across from you at the table outside of the little coffee shop. Outside seating more comfortable for you given the current pandemic. But your two shadows didn’t have any worry about the pandemic with the Super Soldier Serum.

Steve and Bucky were great people. Working with them when it came to PR had its challenges but overall a joy.  Not only that but you were pleased to become friends with them. That was months ago. Now they were showing up everywhere you went outside of the regular

Compound encounters. However, you had noticed Steve was sans his pal more often than not in recent encounters.

“You should stay in the compound with us,” Bucky offers a solution to your current dilemma. You frown at his suggestion. Steve’s waiting for his drink inside of the coffee shop they both happened to show up to this morning.

A coffee shop you had never gone to before in an attempt to test your theory about being possibly followed. The results, worrisome

“I mean,” Bucky leans over his cup keeping eye contact. “You’ve said it yourself, they’re starting the shutdown soon and you’re not sure how long you can spend being completely alone.” You look away at his intense gaze only to catch Steve’s eye as he sits next to you at the four top.

“What are you two talking about?” An easy smile falls over Steve’s face before he takes a sip of his coffee.

“Just that she should stay with us,” Steve nearly spits out his drink, and Buck chuckles at his expense. “You know, staying with us would be much more entertaining than being alone.” Bucky leans over the table looks at Steve directly when he stops.

Steve nods his head, taking the lead.

“You know the Compound ground fairly well,” Steve continues. “It’ll be fully stocked to last the shutdown and then some.”

Nibbling on your bottom lip in equal worry and contemplation you worked out in your head, ways to refuse the offer without coming off as a heinous bitch. 

“Wouldn’t you guys be coming and going during missions?” You scrunched your face up. “I think that would put me at risk of contagion.”

“That’s the greatest part about it,” Bucky leans back in his chair, crossing his arms behind his head. “We’ll be there too. Unless the worst happens, and then we’ll get testing to make sure we’re not carriers before we come back home,” he pauses looking at Steve then you, “to you.”

Steve clears his throat shifting in his seat you tilt your head to the side watching him. “Are you okay Steve?”

“Mm?” he looks directly at you for longer than fleeting seconds. “Yes,” he pauses. “I really think you should consider the offer.” His hand rests on your knee, the heat emitting off him almost too much for the end of March in New York City. 

“We have a spare room in our apartment there,” He watches you nibble on your lip once again, he shifts to Bucky who just nods his head towards you. “We’ll get it set up just the way you want and I swear we won’t leave dishes in the sink.”

Bucky chuckles, “I agreed to no such thing,” Steve cuts his eyes at his pal. “Fine,” Bucky huffs folding his arms over his chest pouting.

You can’t help but laugh at the two of them, much like a married couple. Maybe having their banter around would be helpful to ease the worrisome a pandemic causes? Perhaps the following was because the two had so few friends outside the compound as is and they’ve often said how welcoming you make them feel. Without letting yourself fret any more over the decision you made your choice.

“Okay,” you nodded your head, Steve’s hand on you clasping around your knee. “When can I move in?”

The smile that illuminates Steve’s face bright enough to light up the sky of NYC you were sure of it. However, the grip on your knee makes something in your hindbrain whisper “Be careful.”

You had been doing so well, it was a month in and the situation was proving rewarding for all parties. You had a nice state of the art abode, they had a personal chef in you and you all had each other for company. 

Working from home was not an issue at all, they left you alone when you were working. You only saw them when you’d pause for lunch, where they always seemed to in the kitchen waiting for you. After work would normally be some type of movie to watch for them to catch up, sharing music or the rare occasion Steve drawing you as you read. 

It was nice and oddly domestic bliss but it seemed to change one drunken night when you kissed Steve. It wasn’t meant to be anything, you were drunk feeling good and he was making you feel good. With his compliments and attention before you knew it your lips were on his. He didn’t respond which left you feeling completely foolish. 

Not that you wanted anything to happen between you and Steve, you didn’t, right? He was handsome, and god knows he was packing with what your eyes have beheld when he comes back from his work on in his grey sweats. So maybe you did? Or was it the cabin fever?

However, after that, it’s a fat chance anything would happen as he avoided you the next day. Bucky told you it was just his nerves that “He’s never had a hot dame like you into him.”

Luck was on your side two nights later when Steve ventured out of his room for a movie night. A romance on no less, and Bucky suspiciously dipping out early claiming he was exhausted. That left you and Steve miles apart on the couch until Steve slid down to your side, his arm wrapping around your shoulders. He pulled you close and when you tried to pull back for some space for civility you couldn’t budge him. 

When the romantic duo of the film finally kiss you can’t help but look at Steve from the corner of your eye. Steve is staring at you, a light blush on his cheeks. He leans forward, and before you know what’s happening his lips are on yours. You’re quite shocked given the drunken kiss you gave him.

It takes only a moment for your lips to soften on his. The pleased sigh he emits warming your body up almost more than the kiss. With tentative movement, his tongue trails only your bottom lip, and your open your mouth on reflex. Then the flood gates are open, he’s pulling you into his lap, arms holding you secure as you both make up for the last quarter of the film.

As the credits roll you finally part, lips chapped and swollen. You feel your cheeks warm as you look away. Well, this certainly wasn’t your plan. Steve clears his throat and you look back at him.

“I had wanted to do that for a while,” You give a shy smile in response.

“I think,” you pull yourself off his lap. “It was worth the wait and just enough.” Needing to keep your distance before you let this go farther than it should. Sleeping with someone who was kindly housing you rent-free was not the smartest move in your opinion. 

Steve nods in agreement though his brow furrow with agitation. He was fairly certain his night would go somewhere else and the uncomfortable tightness of his pants had to be dealt with.

“I suppose you’re right,” he shifts on the couch and you pretend not to see the bulge in his pants that you had without a doubt felt just a moment underneath you. “I say we call it a night.” Steve veining confidence to take control of the night.

Nodding in agreement. “Good night Steve,” as you go to turn he stands up and grabs your wrist pulling you into him capturing your lips one last time. 

Letting you go when you pull apart he smiles. “Just had to have one more,” tucking your hair behind your ear you can’t help but smile, “Sweet dreams.”  He releases your hand as you turn once more to retreat to your room.

His eyes glower at your disappearing figure, eyes tracing the flare of your hips and lush back side. He wasn’t sure he could wait for another night to continue this path you two were on. One he desperately wanted. 

You were awake and abruptly so.

You felt, full? Oddly so? An ache and stretch in your lower abdomen the first sensations as you wake up. Then it’s the way you feel your pelvis flex against something. Eyes opening the room is still dark, your eyelids feel heavier than usual when awoken in the night. Are you sitting upright? What’s the warmth radiating at your back?

Warm muscular arms wrap around your body from behind, you yelp in fear. Your bareback is forced against a fuzzy chest. Wait, are you naked? Thick thighs flex below you and that ache in your lower abdomen is clearly all the way to your pelvis becomes clear. Your gasping for breath as panic sets in, your voice cracks in your attempts to call out for help. Who is this?

“Ssshh,” lips press against the shell of your ear. You’re cocooned in warmth and you’ve never been more afraid in your life. This sensation should be comforting but-

“Knew you’d feel so tight around me,” You’re bounced up by the thighs beneath, and the moan that pulls from your lips is involuntary. The thick cock lodged so deep inside you feel too good. It shouldn’t feel this good. The bulbous cock head brushing against that special spot with each re-entry. 

“Ste-Steve?” you get out between your shock and pleasure. He holds you down, still as can be, you can feel the steady thump of his heart against your back. Lips the press against your ear slowly trails down your neck resting at the nape. His breath pushes hot air across your bare chest with a forceful exhale.

“It’s me,” His words a whisper on your skin. “I’ve got you, sweetheart.” You try to find his words comforting, recalling how gentle he is with you, how attentive and soft the first kiss was earlier this night. How had it escalated so quickly?

Your nails dig into his forearms, his large hands holding your waist lifting you up and down as if you were light as a feather. It was disorienting. He drops you down and as your mouth opens his large sweaty palm mutes your scream.

“Normally,” Steve grunts pushing up into you. “I’d want to hear your beautiful voice,” He lifts you once more, his hands so warm and tight against your skin. His super strength made you feel like a sack of potato at the most. Slowly lowering you down his pulsing shaft you can feel the way he pulls at your walls, the sponge feel of the tip of his cock hitting your cervix.

“But I don’t want Buck to hear.” He grunts pushing his hips up and down, his thighs moving you without your aid. “These noises are mine.” He growls. His hand slips from your mouth to between your slick folds to rub softly against your little nub.

When you inhale to moan Steve shushes you, resulting in you bitting your lip trying to muffle your moans. “That’s my good girl,” his words warm against your skin as he sets a steady pressure on your nub in a circular motion.

Your walls fluttering around him he muffles his groan. “Fuck, baby girl,” his fingers digging into your hip. Steve’s hands move to lift you up, almost completely off his cock the wide tip sitting at the opening. For a brief moment, you think it’s over whatever this violation of your body is.

Then you’re falling, the push of his thick and long shaft into you makes your head jerk back. His chin resting on your forehead. Steve’s bulging arms wrap around you resting under your breast. “You feel me here?” a hand slips down to push on your lower abdomen. A soft moan pulling from your lips at the feeling. 

Looking down you gasp seeing the slight bulge, no wonder it felt like he was splitting you in two. Watching the hand slip down further, two fingers slide down to capture your clit, giving a gentle squeeze. Your body shakes, biting your lip to hold in a moan tilting your head back once more. 

Your hands grip his large forearm trying to pull his hand back. The sensory overload too much from being woken up in such a jarring manner. Trying to get hold of whether you wanted this or not was becoming difficult with each touch. 

Steve tut’s in your ear, his hand pulling back to slap your pussy. Your whimper following the slapping noise. “Don’t hide how much you’ve been wanting this.” He bends his head, lips resting on your forehead. Then touch intimate and far more gentle than what he is doing with your body. 

“I know you’ve been waiting so patiently for me to fill your pussy,” His crass words scrap against your forehead. You go to shake your head but pause when he rotates his hips. 

“It’s okay,” his tone saccharine, “We’ve got plenty of time to make it up before Bucky wakes up.”

[autumnslance]

FFXIV Write 2021 #15: Thunderous

((A longer one. Violence, blood, and fire. Not safe for heretics or dragoons as we step back to last week and the aftermath of “Heady”...))

“There they are!” X’rhun exclaimed. “Thank the gods!”

Alberic only puffed a breath in agreement as they ran across and down the ravine to where Aeryn was tending to an ashen-faced Heustienne.

“The cavalry has arrived,” the injured dragoon said dryly, her damaged chainmail removed to allow Aeryn access to the wound. Not the worst Heustienne had ever taken, but more than bad enough.

“Thank Halone you’re safe,” Alberic said as X’rhun dropped to his knees next to the women to lend his own aid if needed. “We heard from Kal Myhk you’d tangled with a group of heretics—”

“They took us to Avengret,” Aeryn’s voice cut him off; quiet, too steady, too calm.

For a moment the world paused, until X’rhun’s tail lashed as he turned to look up at Alberic.

Aeryn wasn’t looking at him, her hands resting on her knees now, feet tucked under her. Heustienne’s gaze flicked between Aeryn and Alberic, her own questions barely held back.

“Let’s get Heustienne upright,” X’rhun said gently. “And then get back to—”

“Anyx Trine?” Aeryn interrupted. “Will they tell me the truth if I ask? They must know. If what she said is true.” She turned her head slightly toward Alberic without raising her face, looking at his boots. “She said I should ask you.”

“Aeryn…” His mouth was dry.

She looked up finally, lips parting to say more, but instead she drew in a sharp breath, eyes wide and shining silver, not seeing Alberic or anything else around her now.

He groaned, whether in fear or agony or relief, he wasn’t certain.

——

Alberic followed Corran Striker into the house. It was a pleasant little place, clean and airy. The edges of the walls were lined with brightly painted flower and vine designs, and small pieces of colored glass bordered the custom-framed windows to allow some of the light to also reflect rainbows into the rooms--that couldn’t have been cheap, Alberic thought.

“Please, leave your helm and lance by the door. I think my wife will forgive the boots this time.”

“I keep the lance close to hand, you understand,” Alberic replied as he at least set down his helm on the table by the door.

There was evidence of children; their house slippers by the door, a doll on a chair, a set of tin knights cluttering the low table in the sitting room. His heart ached. “What a lovely home,” he said. “Will the missus and children be joining us?”

Corran shook his head. “Emelia’s running some of her crafts all the way to Fallgourd in the Shroud, and took Zaine and Aeryn with her for the fun. They’ve been cooped up too long, she thought.” He smiled fondly. “It’s a way she deals with her homesickness, and shares that part of herself with our children; she grew up traveling part of the year selling wares as a girl in Thavnair.”

Relief, but also renewed wariness prickled along Alberic’s spine as he followed Corran to the kitchen, leaning his lance on the wall right behind his chair as he took the offered seat at the dining table. “Thavnair? That’s a ways away. Explains the colors though.”

“I got rather lucky,” Corran replied, his tone warm and genuine. “She misses it, but is somehow willing to stay with me.”

“Ever think of visiting?” Alberic asked casually as Corran went about the motions of preparing the lunch he had offered the tired dragoon when they had accidentally met in the treacherous priest’s chapel. Corran had seemed surprised to learn of Comfraire’s heresy, but had offered hospitality despite his own shaken state.

“If there wasn’t always so much work to do, perhaps someday we could,” Corran said quietly.

“I think I’d take the chance, perhaps even move permanently, were I a common man with a family. Get the children far from the war, among the wife’s people.”

“I won’t lie; the thought has occurred to me,” Corran said. “Though I’m surprised, Ser Azure; I’d think one like you would want to keep promising future soldiers for the war in Ishgard.”

Alberic shrugged. “As I said; were I a common man, with a foreign wife who misses her home and children with futures to think of.”

The chronometer in the hall ticked steadily as Corran worked. “Perhaps. Though much as she misses Thavnair, I’d miss Coerthas. I love my home, Ser Azure. There’s little I wouldn't do to see our homeland prosper.”

Alberic did not reply, not trusting his tongue to respond to the man’s gall.

As Corran came to the table with sandwiches and a decent-looking ale, Alberic smiled. “Then perhaps you can aid me in protecting our homeland,” he said. He hoped he was wrong about Corran. “I am tracking a dangerous creature I believe the false priest Comfraire was working with, coordinating an imminent attack from the Horde.”

Corran raised an eyebrow. “I’m but a simple farmer, Ser. I don’t know what help I could be.” He glanced down at his plate.

The chronometer in the hall continued to tick.

“Know you of anyone Comfraire spent time with, when not pretending to holy duties? Places the priest liked to go when not tending the church? I hear you were among those who escorted the fellow on his daily walks.”

“A duty many of us in the community shared,” Corran replied, tone growing strident. “Do you accuse me of heresy merely for minding an old man on his daily constitutional?”

“No of course not,” Alberic answered. He pulled the correspondence he had found in Comfraire’s hidden desk drawer from his pack. “These letters however do indicate guilt.”

“Well that is another story, isn’t it?” Corran asked, leaning back in his chair. The humble farmer demeanor fell away as he crossed his arms. “Why play along?”

“I wanted to be wrong. You seemed like a decent man with a family you love.”

“I do love them,” Corran replied, voice low and cold. “You’re very unlucky you came this day.”

“She doesn’t know what you really do, does she?”

“And once we’re rid of you, she never will,” Corran said bluntly. “Our war doesn’t concern her.”

“And the children?”

Corran’s grey eyes clouded like thunderstorms, his lips drawn into a snarl. “You’ll never touch them.”

They both leapt, chairs clattering to the ground. Alberic reached for his lance while Corran moved with preternatural speed to the sideboard, pulling a hidden blade he managed to raise in time to block Alberic’s swing.

The house was torn and broken as they fought, Alberic barely able to acknowledge the damage as they threw each other against walls and through furnishings. Corran had an advantage with his shorter blade in the cramped space, but Alberic was a far more practiced fighter. If he could get hold of a sword--or better disarm Corran of his--then the heretic would soon be at his mercy.

He finally saw his moment, spinning his lance to baffle Corran’s blade before using his more heavily armored frame to knock the taller man through a door and into what had to be the master bedroom.

The sword went sliding the opposite way down the hall, and Corran laughed bitterly.

“Give it up, Striker,” Alberic said, pointing his lance. He could see Corran’s waist and legs, but the broken door obscured his head. “Tell me about the coming attack!”

Corran's laugh only continued, growing deeper and more growling. Alberic’s eyes widened as he saw Corran’s body jerk, bones cracking and skin tearing, swelling as scales overtook skin.

He swung to drive his lance down through the man as a roar shook the windows, and through the back wall an aevis tore its way inside, the colorfully bordered window panes shattering across the bedding. The dragon leapt at Alberic, and he swung up, barely blocking the creature’s jaws from clamping onto his still helm-less head as they skid down the hall from the momentum of its impact.

Alberic managed to roll out of the way as the aevis let loose a gout of flame, the fire catching on broken furniture. It came for him again but he had made it to his feet, dashing back toward the kitchen for room to move. The aevis lunged at him as Alberic braced himself, a heel against the base of the sink.

His lance caught the beast’s chest and with a roar of his own from his Inner Dragon surging forth, he used the dragon’s momentum to pierce it deeper, throwing it over his shoulder and halfway through the large window, more bright glass breaking as the thing flailed, screaming flames across the yard as it bled out around the lance through it.

Alberic had no time to retrieve his weapon as Corran came for him, tearing apart the walls to fit his new bulk through them to get to the dragoon. He was larger than most transformations Alberic had seen, a heavy red wyvern, powerful and burning, his eyes filled with the same intelligence they had held as a man.

Alberic swore and dove out of the way of claws longer than his own hands. He managed to duck and roll under and past Corran and back into the hallway, needing the smaller space to disadvantage the dragon. Assuming said dragon didn’t just shoulder the walls out of his way, his fiery head rearing back to blast Alberic.

He barely managed to dodge, the heat unbearable as the walls with their pretty flower paint warped, melted, and crisped in the heat, flames now filling the house. He couldn’t last in here much longer, but also couldn’t let this fight further endanger the rest of the village, the commotion surely drawing attention, though any other knights would be too far away while Corran likely had more allies nearby.

His feet hit more metal that clattered, and he remembered Corran’s sword. As the beast came for him again, Alberic ducked to retrieve it, rolling in low as Corran leaped at him. With another shout, Alberic swung up, sliding along the floor on his knees as Corran passed overhead, the sword slicing down the wyvern’s side.

Corran screeched, landing heavily against the door in a tangle, blood flowing freely, wings and talons unable to get purchase in the too small space.

Alberic breathed heavily as he stood and hurried into the kitchen. The aevis was still jerking through its death throes, making a pathetic, pained cry as he yanked his lance from it, more blood pumping onto the sink and floor.

Alberic returned to the hall. Corran watched him, panting himself, lifesblood pooling around him as smoke filled the air.

“Finish me,” the dragon rumbled, in something resembling Corran’s voice. “But I want a promise first.”

“A promise?” Alberic asked. “Why should I pledge aught to a heretic?”

A weary claw gestured, holding a limp, blood-covered ragdoll. Alberic went cold. “For...them. They’re innocent. But we both know...Inquisitors….”

Alberic coughed as he shivered. They wouldn’t care that the children were only children. They wouldn’t care if Mistress Striker was Thavnairian--if anything, that would make it worse for her, no matter if she truly was unaware of her husband’s sins.

“Maybe...she’ll take them home,” Corran said. “She misses it. They could have…Not this.” His eyes met Alberic’s.

They were the grey eyes of a man.

Alberic nodded. “I promise,” he answered, as he pushed his lance through the wyvern’s heart. “Your family won’t pay for your sins.”

When he opened his smoke-stung eyes again, the dragon was gone, Corran Striker’s lifeless form before him, eyes colorless glass, smiling in relief.

Alberic considered for a moment, then drug Corran’s body toward the heaviest flames devouring the house, throwing him into the fire. With luck it would be so burned as to obscure how he had truly died, if Alberic was to keep his reckless promise.

The aevis in the kitchen was dead finally. Alberic retrieved the correspondence knocked to the floor during the scuffle, and gritting his teeth, threw all but one sheet into the flame as well; there was mention of a tower. If nothing else he could salvage something from this mess.

The heat and smoke were too much now, and people outside were shouting and trying to put out the flames, a woman screaming as she glimpsed the dragon half-hanging from the kitchen.

Alberic stumbled outside, battered and bloodied, and fell unconscious at the feet of the Strikers’ neighbors.

—————

It took only a few eye blinks before Aeryn’s groan echoed Alberic’s from a moment before. X’rhun tried to call to her, but she was on her feet in the next eye blink. She whirled in Alberic’s direction, braid whipping so quickly the end came back around to strike her cheek, unnoticed. Her eyes were a storm, lightning crackling in them.

Alberic did not move. He distantly realized that there was nothing any of the three of them could do to stop her of all people.

She flung herself forward and he took the weight of her body slamming into his, her hands gripping at his coat.

That was all.

Alberic didn’t dare move as she trembled against him, head down. X’rhun and Heustienne watched, breath held. Perhaps they had realized the same thing he had.

"I'd forgotten the windows,” Aeryn said hoarsely. “They were almost new; a Starlight gift from him, for Mama."

Alberic said nothing. What could he say?

“You didn’t tell me.”

He sighed. It took a moment to make sound. “By the time I’d realized who you were, why you were so familiar...Well, we had that mess with Estinien and neither of us were in any shape for more terrible revelations. Not the easiest thing to tell a girl you’re the man that killed her father, regardless of the why. And...If the Inquisition, the Ward, if any of them had found out…”

“I’d have handled them,” she said. Neutral, a matter of fact. She wasn’t one to boast.

“Perhaps,” he said. “I thought...Your mother took you to Thavnair. You would have a life there, away from the war. I never expected you to return. To be...this.”

“You should have told me.”

“I know. And you know I’m a sentimental, craven fool.”

She laughed, a wild, bitter noise, finally looking up. Her eyes locked with his, and he thought for as much as she looked like her mother, her eyes were too much like her father’s.

“X’rhun, can you make sure Heustienne gets back to Anyx Trine?” She said, not breaking her gaze with Alberic. The storm still rumbled in her eyes, but all he could see was old smoke.

“Of course,” the Seeker answered. “Aeryn—”

“I’m going home,” she said, shoving Alberic away. He staggered, barely managing to keep his footing. She was stronger than she looked. “I need time to think and rest.”

“You mean Revenant’s Toll, yes?” X’rhun demanded, tail still lashing.

Aeryn only nodded once as she retrieved her pack from next to Heustienne.

“Call me via ‘pearl when you arrive,” X’rhun insisted.

She paused for a moment, then nodded again, shouldering her pack and walking away.

“What the seven hells am I missing?” Heustienne asked after they watched Aeryn’s red coat vanish among the hills. “What did she see? What did you do?”

“Later,” X’rhun said, helping her to her feet. “Let’s get back to something resembling civilization first; Avengret’s heretics may still be on the trail.”

Alberic said nothing, simply following along as they made their way across the wilderness.

[dreaming-about-fanfictions]

Choose Me Instead II Draco Malfoy x Reader II Chapter 14 of 27: Reality

Summary: Pretending to be in a relationship with Draco Malfoy to get back at your ex might have not been the smartest idea you ever had. Especially during your last year of Hogwarts where you should be focusing on exams and your future plans. However, you were just pretending. There was no way in hell you could actually catch feelings for someone like Malfoy. … Right?

CHOOSE ME INSTEAD MASTERLIST

A/N: Uff, I’m so excited what you think about this chapter. However, I’m here to explain their ages in case some of you were confused: Due to the time that has passed since the war, Draco is 19 years old in this story. Y/N is 18. Have fun with the chapter! <3

Words: 3k Pairing: Draco Malfoy x fem!Reader, post-war Warnings: smut - seriously, shameless smut. lol. If you feel uncomfortable reading, read until the first “ *** ”. And then scroll down until you see the next “ *** “. The texts in those passages are safe and clean and relevant to the plot.

“To change the situation.”

You blinked. Slowly, very slowly, did you begin to process the four words and their meaning, your mouth suddenly feeling very dry. You suppressed the urge to lick over your lips.

The Slytherin didn’t look insecure or nervous. No, his grey eyes suddenly seemed to be a few shades darker (or maybe it was just the dim light in the hall?). His gaze bored into yours, right into your soul. It was impossible to escape and caused you to swallow. His lips were parted slightly as he leaned against the doorframe. He was still wearing his shirt from dinner and the tie hung loosely from his neck.

Draco waited for your reply.

Seeing him like this, you realized that you weren’t the slightest bit surprised that he had knocked on your door. Even though you had refused to believe for weeks that something could ever happen between the two you, it had never been a question of “if”. It had always been “when”. And apparently, “when” was tonight.

“Y/N?”

Your name rolled off his tongue like honey; his voice was low and husky. A shiver ran down your spine.

This is wrong, the thought crossed your mind. All the acting and pretending, the soft touches in hallways and classrooms that were born out of lies, the moments of vulnerability the two of you shared – it had clouded your judgment. It made you believe that there was something between the two you. This isn’t real.

But … maybe you didn’t need it to be real. Because ‘real’ meant heartbreak and loss and pain and both of you had experienced enough of that for a lifetime. Maybe, just for a little while, you wanted exactly this. A dream, a fantasy, magic that would vanish as soon as you stepped foot in Hogwarts again.

You didn’t need ‘real’. Not tonight.

You blinked again. Draco still waited for an answer. Then you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and when he saw the look in your eyes, his mouth twitched, fighting the smirk. So this was Draco Malfoy, you thought, the one who caused even Gryffindors hearts to flutter.

When you spoke, your voice was low and steady:

“Change it then.”

 ***

Now, Draco didn’t hide the smirk anymore. There was a sparkle in his eyes as he took a step forward. You didn’t back away, keeping your gaze fixated on him. He rested his hand on your hip and only the thin fabric of your robe separated him from your skin. It made your heart beat faster and your breath started to tremble.

His pupils were dilated now and the smirk widened when he noticed how you reacted to him. Draco closed the door behind him with his foot and you swallowed when it fell shut. It was only dimly lit in the small hotel room and suddenly you realized – this was happening.

“Tell me to leave and I will,” Draco must have seen your eyes flickering towards the door.

You shook your head. “I don’t want you to leave.” It was the truth. There was nothing in this world that could possibly made you want him to go right now.

You didn’t need this to be real. Not tonight.

“Good,” Draco whispered, his voice hoarse. His fingers tightened on your hips and you drew a sharp breath of air when he suddenly pushed you against the wall. He chuckled at your reaction.

“Stop being so cocky, Malfoy,” you hissed to which he only grinned. He was so close now, so damn close – the smell of mint and his cologne made you feel dizzy. It reminded you of the night in the storage room and you licked over your lips absently. Your eyes dropped towards his lips. Draco simply looked at you. Why didn’t he do anything? What took him so long? Frustration began to dwell up inside you as the tension around you was now so thick, you could probably cut right through it with a kitchen knife.

“Damnit, Malfoy,” you groaned. Without thinking about it any longer, you leaned forward and kissed him.

Finally.

It was the third kiss the two of you shared – but the first one that happened solely because the two of you wanted it. Right now. In that moment. In the years before you knew Draco personally, you had often wondered why so many girls felt drawn towards him and couldn’t stop gushing about the mean Slytherin. Now, that you felt his lips on yours, the answer seemed crystal clear.

The kiss was rough and demanding. You pulled him even closer by his tie, as he pressed you up against the wall. You could feel every inch of his body against yours and your breath hitched. One of his hands found its way to your hair, grabbing it tightly as his tongue slipped in your mouth. He was possessive and leading and just the way you expected him to be.

You moaned softly and the grip in your hair tightened. He whispered your name and began kissing down your neck, sucking on the soft skin. A heavy sigh escaped your lips but then you hit against his shoulders when you noticed that it would probably leave marks in the mornings. He cursed under his breath.

“I want to touch you,” he mumbled.

Instead of a reply, you take his hand and lead it towards the belt of the robe. Draco understood and with a quick movement, your robe was open.

“Fuck, Y/N.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his reaction. “Well … I just had a shower.”

The first time with a new person, letting them see you naked, it was nothing that came easily to you. Normally. However, you were amazed at how Draco managed to make you feel like the most beautiful woman on earth by the way he gazed at your body with nothing but admiration in his eyes.

Draco groaned and leaned forward again, pulling you into another kiss. Your lips moved against his and soon his hands started to travel up and down your body, his fingertips softly exploring your delicate skin. You gasped when he shifted. He kissed your neck and collarbone, wandering further down.

You moaned and let your head rest against the wall, eyes closed. You buried your hand in his blond hair and felt him smiling against your skin, when another sound escaped your mouth.

“Bed,” you whispered. Suddenly this wasn’t enough anymore. You wanted to feel his skin too. You craved to touch it, kiss it, needed to explore every inch of it. Draco made no effort to stop what he was currently doing and so with more force (and frustration), you repeated yourself: “Bed. Now.”

Finally, he moved. With messy hair and a smirk on his lips, he licked over them, before taking your hand and pulling you towards the bed. Between hasty kisses and longing touches, the robe fell to the ground on the way; his shirt and tie followed quickly. Draco pushed you onto the covers and followed quickly behind. You weren’t sure whether it was the cold metal from his belt or the way he bit your lip that caused you to buckle your hips. He groaned and now you could feel him against your thighs and it made your mouth water.

The moments that followed were a blur. His lips on yours, hands all over your bodies in the desperate attempt to be even closer to the other. You couldn’t tell if you stayed like this for seconds, minutes or hours. Eventually, you grabbed his belt, opening it, letting out soft whimpers as he bit and sucked on your skin. When the pants finally freed his cock, the sight of it made you shudder. It was hard and dripping for you and you reached for it, enclosing it, slowly moving your hand up and down.

Draco’s eyes fluttered shut and his breath quickened. A tingling sensation appeared in your lower body when he gripped the sheets. You watched him with pure lust and your hands moved faster with every stroke, until he suddenly groaned. “Stop, wait.” He took your hand and put it above your head, staring at you with dark eyes. “Tease,” he mumbled and your insides twirled at the sound of his voice.

“I need you,” it burst out of you and to emphasize your words, you pressed your hips up against him.

Draco smirked. “You’ll have me. Soon.” Your eyes widened when he suddenly moved down again after getting rid of his remaining clothes. He didn’t take it slow, didn’t tease you – in one second you felt his hot breath on your sensitive skin and then there was nothing but his tongue.

“Fuck!”, you cursed loudly and let your head fall back against the pillow. More curses left your mouth as he let his tongue circle over your clit. Looking back, you didn’t know what he did. Whatever it was though – he was amazing at it. Pleasure took over you, making you forget the world and everything around you. There was only Draco and the way he grabbed your thighs. You moaned loudly as the heat in your body grew stronger and then a wave of pure bliss hit you. With his name on your lips, you came, hips buckling up, tearing at the white sheets of the bed.

Draco didn’t give you time to ride out your orgasm. Before you knew what was happening, he came up and slipped inside of you. You clenched your muscles around his shaft, gasping in surprise. He stretched you so far, it bordered on pain – and yet it felt so delicious; every fiber of your body wanted him.

“You’re so fucking tight,” Draco moaned breathlessly.

You pulled him in for another kiss, swallowing more curses from his lips. The moment he started moving, another wave of pleasure overcomes you and it was almost too much to take. The two of you panted heavily, groans from him and whimpers from you filling the dark hotel room.

Suddenly Draco slowed down his pace. It was torture and your hips bucked up, begging him not to stop. When you opened your eyes, he watched you with an almost sheepish smile and you giggled when you realized why he wasn’t moving faster.

“You drive me crazy,” he admitted.

“I want you so much,” you replied simply and the smile on his face vanished. He began to thrust into you faster again.

It didn’t take long and the familiar heat started arousing in your body again. Spots appeared in front of your eyes. You scratched his back and he moaned.

“Oh fuck,”, he panted and you all of a sudden, you felt him lose all control. Every thrust was harder than the one before as he fucked you closer to the edge.

“I’m … I’m …,” you didn’t get anything more out.

“Come for me, beautiful,” Draco panted – and you did as he said. Repeating his name over and over again, your legs started shaking and then you come all over his cock, muscles clenching around him. You clung unto him desperately, pleasure taking over your body and mind and then you hear him moaning your name as he followed shortly after, cursing and releasing himself inside of you.

He collapsed on top of you and you could feel him panting against the soft skin of your breasts. Your breath trembled as the last waves of the orgasm passed and you softly stroked his hair, eyes closed and a satisfied smile on your face.

 ***

The two of you remained like this for a few more minutes – it was precious, laying like this. Nothing but complete happiness filled your bodies and souls as you listened to one anothers heartbeats.

When he felt too heavy on top of you, you softly pushed against his shoulders. He sat up slowly and – oh, he was a sight for all the muggle gods out there. A content smile on his face, messy hair, red and swollen lips – you suppressed the urge to pull him down for a kiss. Never in your wildest dreams would you have guessed that you’d ever see Draco Malfoy like this.

You reached over to the nightstand for your wand and with a simple flick, the both of you were clean again. Then you got up, planting a soft kiss on his lips and disappearing into the bathroom. When you came back, Draco still sat on the edge of the bed.

He looked at you and for the first time tonight, you saw a hint of uncertainty in his eyes.

“Everything okay?”, you asked with a smile.

He nodded. “Can I … May I sleep here tonight?”

You chuckled. “As if I’d let you go after that.”

And then the uncertainty on his eyes was gone and replaced with the all too familiar smirk. You shook your head in disbelief. Your legs were still a bit shaky from when he made you come. Twice. Fuck, where did he learn that?!

You slipped back under the covers and scooted over to make room for Draco. The Slytherin came up from behind, putting an arm around you and pulling you close. By the time, your head hit the pillow, your eyes were already heavy with sleep and you had trouble keeping them open.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N,” he whispered against your hair.

“Mhhh,” you made, already half dreaming. “Good night, Draco.”

“Good night.”

 ***

The night was peaceful and calm. For the first time in months, you didn’t dream. There was just blackness surrounding you, making you wonder if you ever had a sleep that good. You woke up when it was almost time for lunch. Sunbeams were shining directly on your face and you groaned in frustration when you turned away from the windows.

A chuckle caused your eyes to flutter open.

Draco Malfoy sat next to you, leaning against the headboard, shirtless and with a book of yours in his hands. He watched you from the corners of his eyes. Suddenly you were wide awake and the events from last night came rushing back to you.

Oh.

Oh, Merlin.

That actually happened, you realized. You slept … with Draco Malfoy. Oh, fuck. I don’t need it to be real, you remembered your thoughts from last night. Well, damnit, now it was real and you had to deal with it. How did you even come up with this bullshit?

“Good morning,” Draco said and lowered the book.

“Morning,” you replied and propped yourself up on your elbow. “What time is it?”, you asked and yawned.

“Way too late for breakfast,” he replied.

You sighed and rubbed over your eyes. “You’re already awake.”

“Mhh,” he nodded. “Not long though. Don’t know about you but I had an excellent sleep.” The innuendo in his voice, caused your cheeks to grow hot. You lowered your gaze.

“Y/N?”

You looked up and saw Draco frown. “Is something wrong?” He paused briefly. “Do you regret what happened?”

Did you? No. No, the night was beautiful and, fuck, you’d give everything to experience it again. Everything. But … you knew, it couldn’t be.

“No,” you shook your head. “It just makes everything so much more complicated.”

He thought for a moment. “Does it though?”

“Doesn’t it?”

He shrugged. “Doesn’t have to.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“Sex doesn’t have to mean anything if we don’t want it to,” he stated.

Oh. He was right. Then why did it hurt to hear him say that? You sighed and let yourself fall back into your pillow. “Okay,” you finally mumbled. “Okay, let’s just forget this. It was a one-time thing.”

“Yeah,” Draco cleared his throat. Was it just your imagination or did he sound a little hurt by that as well? But why would he? After all, it was his idea in the first place. “Consider it your Christmas present.”

You snorted at his words and playfully hit his shoulders. “What the fuck, Malfoy.”

He chuckled and you too laughed a little. “But I mean … honestly, who taught you?”

“Excuse me?”, Draco asked and raised his eyebrow.

“You heard me,” you grinned.

Draco started laughing again, before he answered: “I guess, Daphne. Mostly.”

“Greengrass?”

“Yes.”

You stared at him in disbelief. “Does Astoria know?”

He nodded.

Your eyes widened. What the hell was going on in that Slytherin common room?! “Well, at least it stays in the family.”

“Oh, shut up, Y/L/N,” Draco exclaimed and rolled his eyes. He couldn’t hide the smile on his face though.

You giggled. “Make me.”

“With pleasure,” Draco replied and threw the book away. In the next second, he was on top of you.

The kiss that followed was soft and gentle. So different to the ones you shared in the night before and yet just as beautiful. You smiled when he pulled away. “Why don’t we stay in bed today?”

Draco cupped your cheek with one hand and you leaned into the touch. “It’s Christmas. Won’t your parents miss us?”, he pondered.

“Nah”, you shook your head, “It’ll be enough if we show up for dinner.”

To your confusion, he didn’t react the way you hoped. Instead, he furrowed his brows. “And you think it’s a good idea?”

You sighed and carefully thought about your next words. “Well … let’s make it a two-time thing.”

“Or three.”

“You’re awfully confident.”

Both of you started to laugh again. It was so beautiful seeing him like this. He seemed like a completely different person and you for a second you wished that you’d meet him like this sooner.

“So, we’ll deal with the confusion later?”, he suddenly asked, all serious now.

“What confusion?”, you tilted your head and ran your fingers through his hair. “We’re … releasing tension, so to speak. I don’t know. But you said it doesn’t have to mean anything and so, when we’re back in school, it’ll all be forgotten.”

Hopefully.

For a brief moment, something flickered in his eyes. An emotion you were unable to identify. Then Draco blinked and it was gone. “Right,” he whispered. “I said that.” With that, he leaned down again and all your confusion and doubts were drowned out by the feeling of his lips against yours.

You didn’t need it to be real. Not today.

***

A/N: I hope you liked it, my loves! I look forward to your feedback <33 Have an awesome day/night/whatever <33 (For some reason, some of the tags didn’t work. I’m sorry for that!)

CHAPTER 15

Choose Me Instead Masterlist HP Masterlist

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[cluelesspigeons]

The prompt for this one was ‘wolves’ from @drarrymicrofic (I absolutely adore this prompt)

Omg I hadn’t even noticed I had written this much until I was done and looked at the word count! I’m glad I found the time to write this. This is an idea that’s been on my mind for a while so I hope you like it :))

Word count: 1308

Drarry microfic: You’re safe here

The ground was wet beneath his paws. Small drops of rain clung to his grey fur. He was panting loudly, his tongue hanging limply out his mouth.

He had been running for ages, if the pain in his legs was anything to go by. Though he couldn’t stop. Not until he was sure he was safe. Not until they would stop following him, tracking him.

It had been his only choice. He hadn’t been safe, even if his parents tried to keep him away from him. They could only do so much.

After all, no one could ignore an order of their Alpha. Not without consequences.

So Draco had run. He had left in the middle of the night, transforming as soon as he crossed the edges of their territory. It had only been around half an hour later that he heard the howls of other wolves in the distance.

They were following him.

He didn’t know how close they were. But they were following him, he was sure.

A loud snap of twigs made him stop in his tracks. Despite his instincts screaming at him to keep moving, he stopped and looked around.

It was dark, the leaves of the trees preventing any bit of light from the night sky to come through. Yet there, only a few feet away, something was standing between the trees, something that was advancing on him.

His ears pressed flat against his head, Draco took a few steps backwards. Until low growling sounded from behind him.

Had they found him? Had they caught up? Hadn’t he run fast enough?

Another wolf appeared from between the shadows of the forest, its fur as black as the night and its eyes as green as emeralds.

The wolf stopped a few feet away from Draco. Its gaze roamed over him, scrutinising him.

It felt like forever before the wolf turned away, signaling to something behind it to come forward. Soon, Draco was surrounded by a circle of other wolves.

But they weren’t from his pack. These wolves weren’t familiar.

As Draco looked around the circle, his ears pressed against his skull and his tail between his legs, the black wolf transformed. Instead, a young man with messy dark hair and piercing green eyes stood in its place.

Draco knew, from the second the man laid eyes on him, he was the Alpha. He shivered at the thought of another Alpha.

“At what,” the young man said, his voice low and hoarse, “do we owe the pleasure of you crossing our boundaries, young wolf?”

Draco didn’t answer. The only thing that escaped his treacherous mouth was a low whine as he lowered his head to the ground.

Never look an Alpha directly in the eye.

The young Alpha took a step forward, causing Draco’s body to tense, every muscle ready to flee if necessary.

He knelt down so he was eye level with Draco. “You can look at me”, the Alpha said, his voice now soft and careful, “we don’t want to hurt you. We would only like to know what brought you, a lone wolf, to our territory.”

Glancing at the Alpha, Draco whined again. He shouldn’t trust these wolves. He couldn’t trust anyone.

You can only trust your pack.

They weren’t his pack. And even they hadn’t been very trustworthy. On the contrary. Draco had never actually felt safe within his own pack.

Howls sounded in the distance. Draco yelped, taking a few involuntary steps closer to the Alpha.

“Hmmm…”

When Draco glanced back to the Alpha, he noticed the thoughtful expression on the man’s face.

“You are running from someone.” It wasn’t a question. So Draco did the only thing he could do and huffed an affirmative noise.

The Alpha nodded, his green eyes pondering before he turned to the rest of his pack. “Go to the borders and make sure no other wolf sets one paw or foot on our territory.”

As soon as the order left his mouth, a group of wolves ran away, leaving only a handful of other wolves.

One of them, a very bushy-looking wolf with caramel brown eyes, approached them warily.

“Yes, I know, Hermione. But I can’t just send him away.”

The wolf made a sound in the back of its throat.

“I don’t know why”, the Alpha continued, “something about him just… feels right.”

A huff sounded from another wolf. One with ginger fur and bright blue eyes. He eyed Draco with distrust visible in his gaze, though he didn’t approach.

The Alpha sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair. “Alright,” he said, “all of you go back to the huts and prepare a room for our guest.”

Though the bushy wolf seemed reluctant, it turned away and followed the rest, leaving Draco and the Alpha alone.

Draco was well aware of their proximity. It would only take the Alpha to reach out to touch Draco and something in him welcomed that thought with open arms.

How nice it would be to be loved by an Alpha.

“I don’t know your name”, the Alpha spoke, “my name’s Harry.”

Draco hesitated. Did he trust this man enough to give him his name? Could he really trust him enough to transform to his human form? What if he knew Draco’s pack was looking for him and he would just hand him over to them?

Apparently it had taken too long for Draco to react, for the Alpha’s shoulders sagged and disappointment flashed through his green eyes.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to. I just thought… I just thought it would make things easier. I would love to get to know you.”

Draco looked at the man, his head tilted a little to the side. Eventually, he huffed and let the feeling of transformation wash over him.

The Alpha was looking at him, a soft smile playing around the corners of his lips. Draco didn’t dare look up. He felt ashamed. He felt naked. He felt exposed.

Two fingers were placed underneath his chin, forcing him to look at the man in front of him. “You’re beautiful”, he whispered.

Despite the mortification he felt growing in his belly, his cheeks warmed. “Alpha, I…”

“Oh, please don’t call me ‘Alpha’,” the Alpha said, “I prefer the wolves of my pack actually call me by my first name. So ‘Harry’s fine.”

Draco’s eyes widened. “But I’m… I’m not part of your pack.”

The Alpha, Harry, smiled. “If I’m correct,” he began, “you ran away from your other pack?”

Slowly, Draco nodded.

Harry continued, “I don’t know what happened that made you run away but it mustn’t have been something small. A wolf doesn’t just simply leave their pack.”

Draco nodded again, ignoring the hope that was slowly building in the pit of his stomach.

“So I would love for you to join my pack. You don’t have to, if you don’t want to. But if you do, I will try everything to keep you safe from whatever harm that may come your way. You can trust me as long as I can trust you. And something in me tells me I can.”

Hope now bloomed in his chest, spreading around his body. Could this really be it? Could he finally be safe? Could he finally find a place where he belonged?

“I…” Draco paused, his eyebrows furrowing, trying to find the right words. “I would love to.”

The bright smile that greeted him would be forever carved into his mind.

“That’s great!” Harry exclaimed, childlike glee radiating off his body. “That’s perfect! Welcome to the pack,…?”

“Draco”, Draco said without the fear he felt before, “my name’s Draco.”

”Welcome to the pack, Draco.” Harry tenderly brushed a lock of long blond hair away from Draco’s face. “Let’s get you back to the others, shall we?”

Read it on ao3

Prompt from 11th June 2021

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[imnotwolverine]

The Wolves Return - Part 2

< Part 1  | Part 3 >

Summary: Evil is meddling in the woods and bad news hangs in the air.    

Word count: 2649 (9,5 min. reading) 

Disclaimer: 16+ - Thrilling, monster hunting and gore, minor injuries and a smidge of Geralt being a soft!dad 

--

And then the White Wolf came. Fighting till his knees gave out and weakened did he bleat; Shit, Fuck, Almighty! Is death worth this good deed?

--

It was a terrible idea to go out of Kaer Morhen’s gates in this weather, with his leg feeling like a lug. But Geralt was a man of principle. And evil was evil. Greater, lesser, meddling. It stopped him from having a quiet night in, and he wasn’t having it. 

Stepping out of the gate that crashed back in its lock, Geralt squinted into the flurry of snow. The footsteps he had seen here had faded as the stormy weather raged on. 

Removing the long silver steel from its scabbard, he let his golden eyes roam over the dangerous pines. Instinctively his free hand shot out to his medallion. The magical pendant was still warm from the firepit inside and it thrummed restlessly into his palm, indicating that a source of magic was near.  

‘Come out then.’ He demanded. But nothing came. A new flurry of snow came in instead and it was almost hard to believe that hours earlier the world had been green and somewhat peaceful. 

Unfortunately for Geralt it wasn’t just snow that had arrived. A heavy gust made him stagger. It was like someone had tried to push him over, the strength so odd that perhaps he had already found his magical perpetrator. 

Raising his sword, his free hand casted Yrden. The spell lit purplish blue fires in a circle around him, illuminating the radiant storm. That storm seemed to calm somewhat within the boundaries of his spell. It confirmed his assumptions that something strange was afoot, and yet he couldn’t place whom or what it was. Was it the woman? If so, were there more? Was this an ambush? 

What a way to die that would be. 

Looking left and right he sniffed the air. That same mixture of fresh pine sap and blood hung in the air. 

A scream. 

In a rush of whirling wind that crushed a tree branch up ahead, the woman came hurling at Geralt. Her skirts were ripped and somewhere in the past minutes she had lost her cape. 

Geralt steadied his breath, ready to strike. But as the woman came near he noticed that the winds around her were off. They were irregular, like a wall of mists chasing her down. 

‘RUN!’ She belted, eyes wide. 

Geralt did not run. He only raised his sword a little higher, head twitching to the side to take that ever important decision; attack or defend. 

The woman was a few footsteps away as he made his call. With a twirl he slashed down, hacking straight through succulent flesh. 

The woman froze, gulping as a frosted grey creature fell apart by her feet. 

‘Ah!’ 

‘QUIET.’ Geralt growled, eyes focused. The Yrden flames now cast a purplish hue over his pale features. Keeping his sword in one hand, his other was held out, ready to cast another spell if needed. 

The woman nodded. With her arms grasping around some undefined wooden object in her arms she looked around skittishly. The wall of magical winds was now encircling them, causing the temperature to drop even further. Icy breaths broke from their mouths and the pinetrees above their heads went berzerkers. Whipping wildly to and fro it felt like they would soon pick up their root systems and fly off. 

‘We’re gonna die.’ The woman cried. 

‘The fuck we aren’t.’ 

The woman stepped back to get her back closer to the Witcher. Geralt snarled. 

‘Don’t make this any harder woman.’ 

She let out a little breath but kept her complaints to herself. ‘Ha..typical this is.’ She whispered. 

The winds were now inching closer, investigating the curious sign that was losing its force. Without hesitation Geralt called upon it again. The purple blue flames rose higher and as they did another creature was caught in their wake. A demon-esque, mangled face without eyes or nose reached out its claws, howling. 

‘Foglet.’ Geralt growled, shoving the woman aside to make a clear path for his sword. With a fine sweep he mowed down the creature, slashing straight through its narrow body. 

What Geralt didn’t notice was the launch of two more creatures that came from behind. And unlike their fellow packmember, they weren’t quite so distressed by the magical barrier that Yrden cast. Howling in pain they lunged forward, taking both the woman and Geralt by surprise. 

Yrden’s light flickered as the woman was thrown to the ground, taking Geralt with her. Though the ghostly lights did not harm them, they did feel the cold return as they tumbled over the circle’s border. In moments another wave of slim limbs materialized, turning the blue-hued night into a true nightmare. 

Geralt struggled to get the monsters away from them. Claws raked through supple skin and in moments the fresh white snow beneath them started to fleck with drops of blood. And not just his. The woman screamed bloody murder as one of the grey creatures found purchase on her neck. 

Not that Geralt could care. 

Swinging his sword in wild abandon he pushed away the aggressors that were toppling over him. The white world became a blood soaked nightmare. Greyish limbs went flying and though cold on his skin, Geralt felt warm blood thrum in his ears as the thrill of the fight returned. Practised stances echoed through his limbs as he cut through the foggy air. Though he did have to admit that even the adrenaline couldn’t qualm the ache in his leg. With a protective stance he kept the weight on his good leg, hoping the creatures weren’t smart enough to topple him over again. 

A new windy cloud of snow came his way and he started hacking. 

It was enough occupation to move his attention away from the dying light of Yrden. A few flickers of blue lit the trees and swirling snow before all went terribly dark. 

The woman cried out again, though this time there didn’t seem to be terror within her. A snarl came from her vicinity, closely followed by a few damp thuds. 

Bones cracked. Monsters howled. And as the foglets fell dead by Geralt’s feet, so did the howls behind him. 

The woman panted. ‘So far for a warm welcome.’ 

Geralt turned, feeling the ache in his leg worsen by the second. He wasn’t even sure if he would be able to make it back to his chair without making a complete fool of himself. In the dark stood the woman, the object that she had kept in her arms now falling apart in misery. A lute, that’s what it must have been. The strings curled broken around her bloodied hands. Her eyes were bewildered as she looked around in what must be pitchblack darkness for her. 

‘Hello?’ She stopped panting to swallow deeply. 

She couldn’t see him. 

Geralt felt his lip curl up, though he wasn’t sure whether he was smiling or grimacing. The thrill of the fight was slowly seeping away with the blood that was gushing from his shallow wounds. He had to take care of that soon. 

‘We don’t have visitors here.’ He finally said, allerting the woman. She held her breath and held her broken lute a little higher. The poor instrument was beyond repair. 

‘I’ve learned otherwise good Sir.’ She shuffled nervously, still not able to see him. 

Around them the storm had returned to a quiet snowfall. No stars were to be seen and little flecks of snow were starting to stack back onto the tree branches. In a few hours the paths to Kaer Morhen would become near impossible to cross by normal footfolk. And that was all fair and game, until you have a visitor at the wrong side of the tracks. 

Geralt sighed. ‘Visitor or not. Claim your business here.’ 

The woman huffed. ‘You’re my business.’ 

‘I am your business?’ 

‘The Butcher of Blaviken? The White Wolf of Rivia?! The--’ 

Geralt started walking off. Or better said: limping off. His leg was smarting so terribly that he already felt his head whirl after just a few steps. That, or it was the blood loss in combination with the biting cold. 

‘Hey!’ The woman heard his dragging feet and followed.

Every few steps Geralt could hear her slip and slide, but she was not one so easily dissuaded. 

‘I don’t do visitors.’ He growled, clenching his teeth. His vision was starting to swim as he laid eyes on the gates up ahead. 

‘Well then count me as an old-new friend.’ 

Geralt halted, but as he wished to tell the woman off he could feel the world starting to blur. The sharp jolts of pain from his leg were starting to numb -- bad sign. 

‘I don’t even know y--’ 

--

[In perhaps a dream] 

‘Now you take good care of him, okay?’ Ciri whispered to Roach. The horse wiggled her ears as they both kept a mischievous eye on Geralt. The spring sun was streaming warm light over Kaer Morhen’s courtyard as all inhabitants stood around to wish the young woman farewell. 

Meanwhile Geralt kept a small smile on his lips. He wasn’t really feeling happy, but he had to quell the less desirable feelings that were bubbling up inside him. Ciri was leaving. She was a grown woman now. This was a good thing. This was supposed to happen, right? 

He eyed Vesemir who seemed far more relaxed. Arms folded and hip leaning into the stair balustrade, he winked at Geralt. 

‘Hmmpf.’ Geralt huffed through smiling lips.

‘Now, now. You start sounding like me there, young man.’ Vesemir grinned. 

‘It’s not the same.’ 

‘Oh I think it is.’ Vesemir raised up as Ciri skirted up the stairs to jump-hug him. He chuckled merrily as he patted the back of her shoulder. 

‘Uncle Vesemir.’ Ciri swallowed, smiling and fighting back tears. 

‘Goodbye Cirilla. Return to us soon.’ 

‘I will.’ She turned and readied herself for the poorly kept tempest that was Geralt. 

Geralt awkwardly tried to keep his lips in a smile, but looked far more malicious and mad than happy. 

‘Geralt.’ Ciri mumbled, stepping in to press her head under his chin. Like old times their arms folded around one another, their noses turned to take in each other's scents. 

‘Cir-.’ Geralt’s voice cracked and he chose silence instead. Unsure where to look he looked at the blurry cascade of mousy blond hair that Ciri had started growing out the past year. She kept it braided most of the time and it would always snag with small twigs and branches as they roamed around the grounds and forests of Kaer Morhen. 

Her time of training was over. It was time for her to set out on The Trail and carry on the knowledge and skills he had taught her. It felt odd after all these years together. 

‘Hang in there old man.’ Ciri whispered, hugging him a little tighter. The sun burned hot on their skin and Geralt wondered if he was feeling her sweat or her tears. Either which it was, he held on tight just a moment longer. 

‘And tell Jaskier he cannot, I repeat CANNOT use my flute. Don’t want his spit all over.’ 

Geralt huffed. ‘Of all the things..’ 

‘What?’ Ciri leaned back and quickly dried a tear on her cheek. 

Geralt smiled. This time a real smile. Squeezing her back into his embrace once more he pressed a kiss on top of her head. ‘Come back whenever.’ 

--

A melody. Too happy for the way Geralt was feeling. Squinting hard against the ray of light that fell exactly on his face, he woke up from a fitful dream. The melody hadn’t been part of the dream though. As he looked around he found himself laying on a wooden bench with some animal skins propped up under his head. 

The music continued to flow through the large hall where the first light had arrived some hours ago. The air was fresh with the snow from outside -- the door had been opened recently. And there was a fire. Well-kept, warm, smelling of just a tinge of lacquer. 

A figure sat there, wrapped in a worn blanket, naked feet dangling from the bench. The woman. It all came back to Geralt as he pushed himself up with a grunt. His leg was feeling terrible, but his wounds were bound. His shirt had been removed, he noted, and replaced by a simple blanket. His arms and shoulders were wrapped in blood speckled bandages and he could smell the heady aroma of some herbs peaking through. 

‘Fuck.’ He groaned, sitting up completely. 

The music stopped and the woman looked over her shoulder. 

‘Look who’s alive.’ She said, getting up. 

Geralt’s eyes shot daggers at her. ‘You could’ve killed us.’ 

It was the first time since he saw her well and true. She had dirty blonde locks, which fell away from a messy braid. And her eyes were a striking cornflower blue. Her clothes, once quite expensive, were torn to pieces. Her face. Hmm her face. He was sure he didn’t know the woman and yet she tingled a familiar sense in him. 

Grunting Geralt got up from the bench. His body was aching like he had been pummeled in a fistfight with Eskel, and he couldn’t wait to dip into his stash of potions. Potions.. With a weary eye on the strange woman he moved his attention to the cellar door in the far back. It was open. 

The woman squeaked in delight. ‘Quite a collection you have here! Are there others? There are other Witchers right? My father always --’

‘WOMAN.’ 

The woman quieted, biting her lip. ‘Actually my name is --’

Geralt stepped forward with all the power he could muster, willing the strange woman to be gone as soon as possible. He could lock her up somewhere. He could throw her out. He could.. He clenched his jaw as he realised how rapid his heart was beating in his chest. Little beads of sweat were falling down his brow and before he could utter another retort at the woman he felt the clammy cold of unconsciousness crawl back over him. 

‘Geralt..?’ 

Her voice swam like a breeze through his mind. 

--

‘I’m going to be a father.’ Jaskier sighed, staring out at the dipping sun. The sausages they had roasted on the campfire were almost all eaten by him. 

Geralt sighed. ‘You don’t know the trouble you’re getting yourself into Jaskier.’ 

Jaskier smiled dreamily. ‘And yet we wouldn’t have it any other way.’ 

--

Part 3 > 

--

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[brigittttoo]

Codywan Week!! 7. Domestic

happy last day of @codywanweek ! I'd describe this last one as a non-star-wars space AU, which was very loosely inspired by strangely both cowboy bebop and studio ghibli's 1991 film only yesterday, and no, I can't elaborate. It's weird and only tangentially domestic and it's also SPICY, rated E for the usual carnal reasons ;) it's also! cross-posted along with all my other codywan week 2021 fics on ao3!

Cody receives the message one day on his hand-comm and thinks, with a shaky exhale, that only these three words could move him with such efficiency away from a paying job.

Come to me, the message says, before the screen blinks off again. Cody sets a string of coordinates into his ship’s navigation and arrives half a cycle later at a long-haul trucking outpost, pulling his ship in to dock at one of the bays.

It’s not a perfect system; the safety deposit locker is lacking in any more security than a standard circle lock, the GPS transceiver inside only requires a passcode and a thumbprint. Tucked into the shelter of the thin metal locker door, Cody memorises the new list of coordinates and then flips the transceiver’s signal, and then he’s off again. It’s easy enough to avoid eye contact with anyone with his helmet on the whole time.

The coordinates set off alerts from his ship’s system about non-corresponding regions of space, but when Cody reaches them after another half-cycle he sees that it’s really just a planet and its single moon sitting unluckily on the remote and informal border of two disputing gangs. When he breaks atmo in his outrigger, gliding along just underneath a fluffy layer of clouds, he sees worked fields, small towns, specks of people dotted throughout either. It’s idyllic, in a very bucolic way. It’s the last place he’d ever guess Obi-Wan would be.

The last numbers of the coordinates lead Cody to a house on the side of a small hill, surrounded by yellow bursts of safflowers. He has no choice but to land his outrigger on the road down at the base of the hill, the nearest slice of flat land, and after a brief moment of consideration, tugs his helmet off.

The heat here is pretty oppressive, direct sunlight hugging this side of the hill with little regard for the people perched between flower rows, their thick-gloved hands steadily plucking the blooms. The light is definitely getting lower, though, and Cody reckons he got here just on this side of the night cycle, so it’s bound to cool off pretty quick. The mornings here must be nice too, he thinks, before he can catch himself.

The house looks shady and blissfully cool, all heavy dark wood and sliding panels, and when Cody approaches, eyes adjusting to the sudden dimness, he sees him there, cross-legged on a tightly woven mat. From this distance he is calm and harmless, a slowly greying man in clean plain robes, but Cody knows that closer up, Obi-Wan carries the subtle traces of his lethality: stubborn calluses on the inside of his palms, tensely muscled shoulders, a faint scar over his jaw from a long ago knife fight. A fading line on the back of his wrist.

Cody scuffs his boot on purpose at the edge of the veranda and watches Obi-Wan blink open one eye.

“You have to take your shoes off to come in here,” he says quietly, and Cody wants to roll his eyes, heave a sigh, anything to even begin making his annoyance known. But he also knows it’s fairly futile. He’s going to go in, he’s going to come to Obi-Wan like he’d asked Cody to, and he’s going to take his shoes off to do it.

As soon as he does, leaving his helmet there too, he’s being pulled by the arm into another room, paper panel wall sliding shut behind him. Obi-Wan tugs on the outer buckles of Cody’s jacket with practiced motions, sliding the zipper down to expose his shirt and instantly reaching underneath the hem to run his fingers over Cody’s belly, scratching through the hair there. Cody bites down on a noise trying to crawl out of his throat, telling himself to take it easy, already, but Obi-Wan is moving on, sliding his jacket off his shoulders and letting it clatter to the floor.

There’s a futon laid out in here, but Cody knows from experience that they may not even get to it before this is done—another glance around the room, though, and more of his suspicions are confirmed. The empty pack propped in a corner and the sandals neatly placed on the slice of veranda visible through a slightly open panel are the most damning, and he almost gets his mouth open to say something, anything, except Obi-Wan rasps his beard over Cody’s neck and presses a heated kiss to the underside of his jaw, and all words fly out of reach.

Cody gets enough of himself together to start stripping Obi-Wan in between short gasping pants that always make him feel embarrassed but which only spur Obi-Wan on. For fear of tearing through the panel, he pushes them away, towards one of the wide, load-bearing pillars beside the open sliding door, shucking two of Obi-Wan’s outer robes along the way. It earns him a breathy laugh, and he decides to cut it short with a roll of his hips, the friction fantastic but the fabric in between them decidedly not.

That’s another thing, Cody supposes distantly, while his fingers tangle with Obi-Wan’s to remove both their pants. It’s not like their meet-ups consist solely of hands and mouths, but it’s more likely that Cody has to reach past the waistband of whatever Obi-Wan’s wearing, or get himself out of his trousers just enough to slide into Obi-Wan, everything hard and fast and barely undone. But this—this is rare, taking off all of their clothes like this. It feels all at once too vulnerable in this unsecured space, with its insubstantial walls and the early evening breeze coming down off the top of the hill and in through the gap in the sliding door.

“You’re thinking too much,” Obi-Wan says, and solves the problem by cupping his palm firmly over Cody’s dick where it’s still trapped in his underwear and squeezing. Cody chokes out that noise finally, clutching at Obi-Wan’s shoulders. Obi-Wan’s hands have always been good, efficient and effective, despite what some of the scars on them might say.

The underwear comes off very soon after, the last of Obi-Wan’s clothing following suit, and Cody pins Obi-Wan to the pillar with his whole body, firmly enough to feel like he could sink into him entirely, neither enveloped nor enveloping, just occupying the same, equal space. Sometimes, he—a quiet moan breaks Cody’s focus so much that he stops rolling their hips together and just ends up dragging his mouth along the space between Obi-Wan’s neck and shoulder.

Sometimes, he feels this way: they are two orbiting halves of a binary star system, two former partners, each once able to make the other really smile, now perpetually removed. Other times, it’s like this: they are crashing together in a fatal mess, two contract hunters, each able to trust the other to take them safely and devastatingly apart, now a collision of extreme forces. It’s impossible, sometimes, when they find themselves oscillating uncontrollably between these two states. Cody feels like he’s going to simultaneously disperse into huge, widely strewn pieces, and condense himself roughly and abruptly to the size of an atom.

Obi-Wan is the one to hold his palm in front of Cody’s mouth until he licks wetly along it, before finally grasping both of them in hand. They share a groan – a fleeting thought for whoever might be in the vicinity of the open doorway – and Cody pushes forward into it, reaches with whatever coordination he has left for Obi-Wan’s thigh so he can hook it up around his own hip. Obi-Wan’s grip is tight but his strokes are slow, a calculated steadiness to his movement that Cody knows seeps over from their professional lives.

After a moment that stretches stickily into more, Obi-Wan’s thumb glides over the slit of Cody’s cock, and Cody hums out a low sound. Obi-Wan nips at the side of Cody’s neck, then, and says, “God, you’re good,” and Cody finally edges his fingers holding the leg up further back around to the crease of Obi-Wan’s ass.

He opens his mouth to say something back, surely some sort of intelligently composed response like ‘I know,’ or ‘Hold on and I can be even better,’ except Obi-Wan chooses that moment to shift his free hand from the back of Cody’s neck, down along his spine to mirror Cody’s own hand, pressing dry and light against Cody’s rim. Obi-Wan swallows the gasp Cody makes with another kiss, another tight pull on their cocks, another stroke of his thumb. Cody loses track of his own hands, and thinks absently that they’ve never felt closer together than they do in this instant, sweat gathering under his arms and low across their stomachs, the heat between them enough to overtake the cool air of the house.

It's suddenly too much, the combined sensation of their skin hot and soft against each other, the fingers circling in gentle antithesis behind him, his own hand tensely braced above Obi-Wan’s shoulder against the smooth wood of the pillar, and he has to – has to hold off, execute a tactical retreat, get some space, except—

He shakes through his orgasm like it’s the only thing left to do in this world, hand clenching—probably painfully—into the meat of Obi-Wan’s ass, a final sound scraped out of his throat and laid weakly on Obi-Wan’s collarbone. A faint hush falls over them, the same sound as the breeze in the tall grass at the lip of the veranda. Cody pants wetly between their chests, his legs gone wavering and shivery.

Obi-Wan is still achingly hard in Cody’s field of view and it’s the only thing he can bring himself to focus on, so despite Obi-Wan’s quiet indication towards the futon Cody unsteadily drops to his knees right where they are. Just out of reach of his current thoughts is the notion that he needs the hardness of the wooden floorboards right now, not a cushioned mattress, nothing soft and gentling anymore. The thighs under Cody’s hands tense and jump at his first lick up the length of Obi-Wan’s cock, and even more when he sucks the head into his mouth, laves his tongue widely across foreskin.

He's vaguely aware that his pace is so much more hurried than Obi-Wan’s had been, that he’s racing towards one of their typical fuel station, trucking outpost, backwater bar conclusions. The hands in his hair aren’t trying to slow him down, though, just following the movement of his head, occasionally drifting down to the small hairs at the back of his neck, the first knob of his spine, and—Cody growls, sucks harder, clenches his eyes shut and rubs a finger at that sweet spot behind Obi-Wan’s balls, and finally feels him come apart above him with a short cry.

Cody swallows down as best he can, lets the rest drip across his chin in a gross mess, and he thinks, good, let him be gross. Let him be quick and dirty and bruised, stiff kneed on the floor, his own come drying across Obi-Wan’s stomach. He punches out a breath, wipes the back of his hand across his chin, ignoring the little sound of protest Obi-Wan makes. If this is really how Obi-Wan retires, if these are really the last set of coordinates Cody will have to memorize, if he has to take his damn shoes off every time he wants to see him—with the safflower picking and the wild hill grass and the breeze—

“Why did you tell me to come here,” Cody grinds out. He’s lying back on the futon where Obi-Wan had neatly arranged him, the meat of his chest and shoulder currently acting as Obi-Wan’s pillow.

Obi-Wan drifts a fingertip over Cody’s nipple. “Why have I ever told you to come to where I am before—”

“No, why here, Obi-Wan?” Cody stares resolutely up at the dark rafters. Obi-Wan’s back rises and falls underneath his hand, ever the even rhythm. He dares a glance down at the top of Obi-Wan’s head, as if he could possibly see evidence that they both know exactly what Cody’s asking.

After letting out a measured exhale that makes Cody’s skin shiver, Obi-Wan says, “I wanted you to know where I’d be.”

“Why,” Cody asks again, because it’s never been about knowing where the other one was, before. It’s never been about location, because it’s always been about constant motion. They’ve always been moving, and it’s never mattered which direction, but if one of them stops, then—then the other has no choice—

“You know why,” Obi-Wan says, and Cody can feel the flick of his lashes that means he’s rolling his eyes. Having Obi-Wan’s head on his chest has made him too conscious of his own breathing, and Cody tries desperately to fend off the deeper movements he needs to make. Obi-Wan says, “It’s always been you. So you know why,” and Cody feels his throat close up, his lower lip start trembling.

He looks up and away, closes his eyes, feels Obi-Wan shift and pick up his head, no doubt to better witness the awful reaction that Cody’s having. He wishes Obi-Wan would not put this weight on him, a solid, unshifting anchor that also, on the same hand, uproots everything.

Obi-Wan smooths his hand firmly along the side of Cody’s belly, over and over, and Cody waits until he thinks he has himself under control again before saying, “Okay.”

And that’s that, he supposes, as they lie there until the sun truly is down, keeping the silence that is only faintly broken by the chirping of nearby crickets.

Cody wakes the next morning, just as the sky is starting its dim glow. They’ve veered off of one another in the night, the air still slightly too hot for touching even without the sun’s direct glare, and Cody snakes his way off the futon and out the sliding panel, grabbing his pants on the way out.

The flower pickers are already at work, cleverly starting before the real heat of the day. Cody watches the little orange-yellow safflowers bobble all the way down the hill in a breeze he can’t feel yet, and wonders what Obi-Wan’s rent is like, if he’s actually paying any kind of room-and-board. In the easy quiet of the dawn, he can admit that it’s beautiful here, that he’d rather come here to see Obi-Wan than anywhere they’ve been before. Cody lets his eyes relax on the deep morning green of the flower bushes, rubs his thumb over the old scar on the back of his wrist, and admits to himself that it’s always been Obi-Wan for him, too.

[passable-talent]

ok roe hear me out. dragon!anakin Au. reader is a knight sent to kill him but when their helmet gets knocked of, Anakin changes to his human form and it’s like love at first sight or w/e. and then when the knight fails to kill the dragon, the village offers them as a sacrifice to the dragon, so Anakin comes and picks them up and it’s tense and idk what my point is but have fun!

OOOOOHOOHOHO HERE WE GO

we are combining the selki myth with a dragon myth because i. wanted to

do u ever not realize how much you need something in your life until you have it 

The governing Council of Coruscant, a small village, was facing a problem, in the form of a dragon. A dragon which lived on the edge of their town and preyed on its people, or did, until they began offering it tribute. They offered the dragon, which they’d named Vader, food or gold, earning its favor so that it wouldn’t destroy the village or its people. It was tradition to name a dragon, in order to easier call it for battle or tribute, a tradition started many years ago by the little village of Tatooine shortly before the death of their dragon, Maul. 

Maul had been destroyed by a young knight of the Jedi Order, Obi-Wan Kenobi, which made the Council of Coruscant turn to the Jedi Order. But Obi-Wan had grown older, and was doing more important things for the kingdom, and so the Order sent another young, talented knight, eager to do service to the realm. 

You. 

You rode to the village nearest to the dragon’s lair and continued on foot from there, your blade hanging at your hip. You carried a mystical weapon called a ‘lightsaber’- a magical blade which was made of solid light. It was the mark of a Jedi Knight, and the mark of your skill. No enemy could stand to you, not even a dragon. 

You had been directed through the woods, to a large cavern that was enclosed by a mountain. It was said that the lair of the dragon could be seen easily from far away, but as you grew closer, and the trees thickened, it would become harder to find. Luckily, you had a good sense of direction, and when forest gave way to grasslands that lead up to a gaping mouth of stone, you knew you had found Vader’s lair. 

You stalked toward it, silent in the light of the setting sun, hoping that the dragon would yet be asleep and its death would be quick. You only let your eyes come overtop of the stone ledge, your helmet blending in with the grey. You weren’t yet noticed, and so looked for the dragon, and saw it curled up around one of multiple piles of gold within the cavern. 

It was a deep shade of oaky brown, almost grey, horns curling over its forehead. Thin wisps of smoke curled from its nostrils as it slept, and you knew now was the best time to strike. You would follow in the footsteps of Obi-Wan Kenobi and cleave this dragon’s head from its body, putting your name into history. 

You heaved yourself over the stone ledge, gathering yourself to your feet. You padded silently toward the dragon until you stood overtop of it, nervous now, not to strike, but to stand so close. 

“With me,” you whispered to your saber, the incantation that its magical bond with you responded to. It ignited for you and you held it high- but the sound had woken the dragon. 

Its eyes were a piercing blue, chilling like nothing else you had ever seen. You meant to swung the saber down before the dragon could fully wake, but a great foot knocked you sideways, and you snuffed the blade so that it wouldn’t be in your way as you fell. Collecting yourself to your feet you found yourself face to face with a dragon, sparking its back teeth together, preparing to flame- and so you ran, knowing a fall from the short ledge was better than being broiled in your armor. 

You tumbled down the hillside and came to rest at the line of trees, your helmet knocked from your head in the fall. You breathed hard, trying to right yourself through your dizziness, and looked up to the ledge, where you could see the dragon approaching, and tried to find your helmet before it attacked. 

The roar of a dragon stilled you, and you ignited your saber again, holding it beside you while glaring upward. If you would have to fight it without your helmet, that you could do. 

But then, something began to happen.

You could describe it almost like... molting? The dragon quickly lost size, and it brought its head back to its body, its scales shifting and moving until instead of a dragon it was a man, wearing a dragon’s skin cloak. 

You paused, and stared, because that was a dragon a minute ago, and now it’s a guy. 

“You’re not only a dragon, you’re a witch!” You shouted, running up the hill again, meaning to take him down now that he certainly had much less fire in his throat. 

“A witch? Funny word.” You’d never heard a dragon talk before, and his voice was smooth, and it startled you. The closer you were to him, the more startled you became, as he wasn’t just any human, he was possibly the most handsome you had ever seen. He was tall, with broad shoulders, and those bright blue eyes had retained into his human form. Though there were fangs in his smile, they didn’t make the smile any less radiant, and he seemed to sense your hesitation as you approached. 

“Be not afraid of being startled by my beauty,” he called down to you, making you stop dead in your tracks. “For I am enthralled by yours.” You snuffed your saber and hung it at your hip, looking at him. He clearly meant not to harm you, and so you raised your chin.

“Are you the dragon they call Vader?” You called up to him, just making sure, and he laughed, his expression bright and lovely.

“Yes, but my name is Anakin.” You tilted your head at him and gave him a small smile. 

“Well, Anakin, my name is (Y/N), I’m a knight of the Jedi Order. I came here to kill you, as I’m sure you noticed.” Anakin laughed, lifting a hand from his cloak and laying it over the back of his neck, where your saber had almost been. From the motion you saw black claws where human fingertips would be, and darkened skin bordering scales on his forearm the color of his cloak. 

“I did. You’ve changed your mind?” You looked at him for a moment with a laugh, then reached to your side to tug at one of the ties that held your armor in place. 

“Yes, I think I have.” 

“In that case,” he said, sitting down on the ledge, tossing his legs over it, “want to come up for tea?” 

~~~

You returned the next day to Coruscant with scorched armor and smudges of dirt and bloody scrapes all over. You vowed that you had failed to kill the dragon after an epic battle, but you would return to Vader’s lair after you had healed, and you would try again. 

Returned you did, and once again, you dredged home to Coruscant, Vader still alive. So you tried again- again, and again. 

“Anakin?” You called as you reached the trees, climbing onto his ledge and shedding your armor at the entrance of the cavern, as you always did. He wasn’t there- but sometimes this happened, and he always returned soon after you arrived. You wandered the expanse of the cavern and investigated his hoard, but mostly you were entranced by the space where he lived: a loft-life area above the golden treasures that had been carved by dragon claws from the mountain. Within it were human luxuries- a bed, couches, a carpet, a fireplace like none you’d ever seen before. It was so comfortable, especially to you, after spending time on those couches with him. He brewed the most delicious tea. 

When he still hadn’t returned you grew disinterested in waiting on the couches and went to his hoard again, looking over it. You wondered if there was more than gold within it, and dug down with the tip of your foot, curious if even in your casual digging you’d uncover a gem. The stones were the most interesting to you- you’d fashioned a small sunstone into the hilt of your saber, and yet it had been the only precious stone you’d ever seen. 

You’d only been standing there for a moment when arms wrapped around your waist and lifted you from the floor. Caught off guard you grabbed onto the wrists, but you knew who was spinning you and placing you back down. 

“Anakin!” you laughed, and accusing tone gracing his name. 

“For a Jedi Knight, you sure do scare easily.” You shook your head, your smile fond, and with one hand shoved him gently, pushing him back from you. 

“Where have you been?” You asked, letting him lead you up to his loft, his cloak almost billowing behind him as he walked. He had only gotten more attractive to you- the curl of his hair around his horns, horns admittedly smaller in human form, but still wicked and dark. His figure was exceptional, his smile was bright, his hands strong and kind. 

“Visiting my mother,” he said, putting on a pot of water to boil. You were always colder than he was, so often he made you a hot drink when you arrived. “She gave me some advice.” 

“Advice?” you repeated, sitting down on one of the couches. “About what?”

“Dragon stuff,” he said, turning to you with a playful sneer, “you wouldn’t understand.” You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“Oh yeah? Try me, Sparker.” His eyebrows raised as though you had caught him off guard, and his pupils narrowed into vertical slits briefly, a reaction you knew to be of self-defense. Was he embarrassed?

“Nothing, (Y/N), honestly. Don’t worry about it.” You indulged him with your silence, laying your head back into the cushion of the couch. 

“I think Palpatine’s getting upset with me,” you said, steering the conversation away for his sake.

“Palpatine? You mean the head of the Council?” 

“Yeah. I think he’s getting tired of me failing to kill you.” 

“Oh yeah?” Anakin asked, pouring hot water into a mug to let the tea leaves steep within it. “Thinking about actually killing me to get him off your back?” You looked up, startled, at him. 

“What? Of course not.” 

“That’s good to hear,” he said, carrying over the mug and placing it on a table next to the couch, then taking a seat next to you. “Though I wouldn’t mind having you be the last thing I see.” You rolled your eyes and let your shoulder rest against his, nudging him softly. 

“Charmer.” 

“You know,” Anakin said, repositioning. He often sat so close to you like this so that he could wrap you in his dragon cloak. You hadn’t quite figured out why he liked to do it so much, but you allowed him anyway- it wasn’t like you’d complain about the warmth you felt from him and the way he put his arms around you. “I could always drop your charred armor and clothes onto his doorstep. You’d be able to stay, and they wouldn’t be upset with you.” You lifted yourself up enough to look him in the eye.

“You’d do that?” You asked him, and he tilted his head. 

“Why not?”

“I just...” you trailed off, silent while he repositioned so that his left leg laid lengthwise onto the couch, and you sat between it and his other. “I didn’t realize you’d let me stay.” You felt him press a kiss down onto your head, and a smile grew onto your face. You pulled the cloak over your shoulder to cover more of your body. 

“Of course I would,” he said, his claws lightly tracing your wrist down until he found your hand, and curled his fingers into yours. 

“But no,” you said, turning your head to rest your cheek onto his chest. “I wouldn’t want them to think you’ve killed me. I’m a better knight than that.” 

“True,” he said, pulling more of his cloak over you when he noticed how you bent your knees against the cold. “Then maybe, you could say you’re leaving, to come back with reinforcements, or better weapons, and instead stay here.” 

“That doesn’t solve anything, Ani,” you whispered, reaching over your shoulder to run your fingers through his hair. “Then they’d still be blaming me for the fact that you’re still alive. And I could never kill you.” He turned his head up to kiss your palm, then resting his head back down into your hand. 

“You’ll think of something,” he said, and in the comfort of the moment, you believed him. 

As the sun rose you entered the outer limits of Coruscant, exhausted. Anakin’s nocturnal nature made these meetings easy to schedule but quite hard on your sleep cycle. You usually made it back only to have the older women of the village fawn over you, tending your wounds while you slept. You always returned burnt and bruised, though these wounds were self inflicted, to make it seem as though there was a battle. Anakin never hurt you- save for today, when you had insisted that you get a scratch across your jaw. 

“I can’t, (Y/N),” he had insisted, holding his hands to his chest so that he didn’t even bring his claws close to you. “I can’t.”

“It’s alright,” you promised, “I’m asking you to. I know you’d never hurt me. I’d do it myself with a stone, but these people know what dragon claws look like.” 

“Love, I can’t hurt you.” You reached forward with a gentle smile, lightly taking his hand into yours. 

“Close your eyes, then,” you whispered, bringing his hand up to cup your jaw. You leaned into his palm, your fingers resting overtop his, and when you felt him relax, you pressed down hard onto his first finger, dragging it in a swift motion down your jawline and toward your chin. He gasped, opening his eyes, but you held his hand away, making sure that your blood dripped down your neck uninterrupted. You’d kissed him goodbye, promising him that the women of the village would treat the wound. 

This morning, though, Palpatine himself was there to see you arrive. 

“(Y/N), my dear!” he said, approaching you. “It’s so good you made it home alive.” You thanked him, knowing what he would ask next. “And our dragon? Have you vanquished it?”

“No, sir,” you answered, looking to the ground, feigning shame. “I did not succeed tonight. But I will return to try again.” Palpatine sighed, and before you could react, he had the guards of the council surround you. Shocked, you whirled, but did not ignite your blade. The sheer number of them overpowered you, chaining your hands in front of you. 

“(Y/N) of the Jedi Order,” Palpatine said, standing in front of you on a platform in the center of the village, “You have failed to rid us of our dragon, and so will serve your final duty to Coruscant on this, the sixty-sixth day of spring- you will be a sacrifice to Vader, and with your death, will keep him from harming this village.”

“What?” you snarled, trying to take a step forward, but the guards stopped you. Your armor was torn from you until only your fabric clothing remained, and you struggled against every moment. “This is how you treat the people who are sent to help you?” 

“As a mercy, you will be keeping your magic blade,” Palpatine said, tossing the hilt of your lightsaber toward you. “If you kill the dragon before he kills you, you are free to return.” You glared in Palpatine’s direction as the guards fashioned your saber to your waist, then as they lead you to the platform Palpatine had emptied. Here they had piled the sacrifices of gold and food for Anakin, and here they placed you now, looping your chains through a hoop in the center of the platform. 

There was a trumpet that had become the sound of dread in the village. It caused all to run to their homes, in fear, because the trumpet called the dragon. 

What would Anakin do when he was arrived? Would he recognize that you were the sacrifice, and spare you? Surely he would, he would recognize you- he had to!

How the people of Coruscant, who had loved you, who had put their faith in you, could do this to you- it was evil. You collected yourself to your knees, your arms held in your lap, chained down. 

“I curse this town,” you said, softly at first, as the sound of the trumpet echoed throughout the valley. “I curse Coruscant and all who live within it. I curse you to the fire and death I sought to protect you from!” Everyone hushed as they saw a dragon, on the horizon. Everyone but you.

“I curse you to be torn, limb from body and flesh from bone, I curse you to the same end of pain and suffering that I will be given!” The dragon grew closer, its wingspan wider than the streets of the town, its nostrils exhaling smoke. 

“I curse the Force from this place, may its kindness never guide you again!” 

You trusted Anakin. You did. With your whole body. 

Still, those slitted blue eyes studying you from behind scales, the massive form of the dragon approaching like a hunter with its eyes only on you, it was terrifying. You had tears rolling down your face, and you didn’t even know why. Anakin would never hurt you- he’d made that very clear, this morning.

But you saw his back teeth spark. 

His fire, red and yellow and orange, shot forward, consuming the wooden platform you sat upon. 

Your curse had worked, the townspeople would whisper. The dragon’s fire ate up the platform and left nothing behind, spreading to the nearest homes and buildings. As for you, though, there was nothing left- and everyone had been too concerned with the flames to notice how it happened. 

Except for one old woman, who had known of dragons longer than most in Coruscant. She had kept her eye on the town of Coruscant and its dragon scourge, and its new knight. She was the first to open her home to you.

Shmi Skywalker watched as the dragon lumbered into the flames, and disappeared. And she watched as two figures hurried from it, wrapped in a fireproof cloak of dragon skin. She’d keep their secret. 

-🦌 Roe

| part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | 

[maaaddiexo]

The Within Series | Legolas Greenleaf

Book 1: The Devil Within - Part 1.9

Mainlist | Serieslist

Nyx of Tyndall does not know love or kindness. Cursed at a young age by a jealous witch, Nyx has lived a life of solitude and death.

Until Gandalf the Grey requests her presence and uncontrollable skill in assisting a young Hobbit across Middle-Earth with nine others to destroy a ring so powerful all fall victim to its evil.

Not only must Nyx face Orcs, demons, and creatures she’s never seen before, but also the devil inside. Controlling the devil is the key to finding freedom in a spell that can’t be broken. But it will not be so easy for Nyx when every obstacle she faces pushes her to an edge she cannot return from.

Chapter Nine

Nyx slept soundlessly that night, which surprised her. She’d been dwelling on her decision to join the Fellowship the moment she’d agreed. She was tired. She didn’t want to go any further. And yet, looking into Frodo’s eyes and feeling no judgement from Aragorn, how could she possibly say no?

An elf woke Nyx up in the early hours of dawn, helping her into a warm tub and rubbing the stress away with a sponge. Nyx did her best to fight the anger at not being allowed to sleep in but she was aware of the water heating up a few degrees when it should have been cooling. Her anger was stronger than before. Harder to control.

Afterwards, the elf helped Nyx into dark pants – she couldn’t tell if they were brown or black – and a dark blue turtleneck tunic. Overtop, she was given a thick woollen cloak, black as night. Her hair was braided into two inverted braids which were then secured in a bun at the nape of her neck.

“Low maintenance,” the elf explained, standing up. “Will you be joining the others for breakfast?”

Nyx inhaled. Since her arrival she’d avoided eating in the dining hall. Being around so many people made her uncomfortable, which made it easier for the evil within to take control win. But she would be traveling with these people now for who knew how long. She would have to get used to it. But, perhaps, not yet. “Oh, um, no. I need to finish packing.”

The elf nodded and left. Nyx moved to the end of her bed, where Elrond’s gifts from the day before lay.

“You will need weapons, my dear. And not just this old…thing,” he looked at the scythe with disdain. The blade was chipped and dull, and the wooden handle was thinning where she often gripped it. The wood was also stained with blood, but it often was and Nyx had grown tired of washing the wood when she didn’t even see anyone.

“I don’t have any other weapons, Lord Elrond. I’m sure I will be fine.”

“Nonsense. Since your arrival, I have had my people working on some new weapons for you. Including a new scythe. Gandalf tells me you are quite attached.”

“It’s the only way I’m connected to them.” Gandalf had told Nyx that her parents had lived on farm before they had her. And though she didn’t have any memories of them, this made her feel close to them.

Elrond nodded and placed Nyx’s old scythe against the wall. “Then it will be waiting right here for you when you return. But you cannot take that into war. It will splinter on the first strike. Here,” Elrond lifted his arm and two Elves came in. One carried a thick bundle wrapped in cloth while the other carried a scythe made fully of metal, with strips of black wood running with the long handle from top to bottom.

Nyx ran her hand along it in awe. “It’s beautiful.”

“It is strong. It will serve you well. And here.” The second Elf unraveled the bundle of cloth, revealing two daggers with birch hilts and a knife with a red wood hilt. “For extra protection.”

Nyx smiled at Elrond. “Thank you. You owe me nothing and yet you always offer so much.”

Elrond smiled. “You are worth so much more than you think, Nyx of Tyndall. Soon you will see.”

Nyx smiled. “I really am sorry about your gazebo. And your Council Room floor.”

Elrond laughed. “Already forgiven. But don’t expect me to forget anytime soon.”

Nyx sheathed her weapons in the leather holster the Elf had dressed her in underneath her cloak. There were slots for her two daggers and the knife, plus an additional holster that she wore over her cloak. One strap went around her chest while the across her chest like a sash. The holster was on the back. She’d had a similar one before, but it seemed Elrond had replaced that as well.

Nyx knew breakfast would be over by nine, so she was in the courtyard at nine-oh-five, patiently waiting for the rest to arrive. Ever the punctual Elf, Legolas was the first to arrive.

“Good morning, Lady Nyx.”

Nyx grimaced. “Please, just Nyx.”

Legolas inclined his head, hands behind his back. He carried a bow and arrow, the bow made from a material unlike anything Nyx had ever seen. The holster for his quiver was similar to Nyx’s. His hair was braided the same as the day before: a small one going around each ear and a larger one for the hair on the crown of his head. He was dressed differently than when he had first arrived. He wore tall brown boots and grey pants. Arm guards over a grey shirt and a green elven tunic. He touched Nyx’s scythe, which she had in her hand at the moment. His fingers ran over a small inscription in elvish near the hilt of the blade.

“Dilthen lúg. Little Dragon,” Legolas read. “What does that mean?”

Nyx furrowed her brow. “It is what Gandalf used to call me…when I was a little girl. I almost forgot he used to call me that.”

“Why did he call you that?”

Nyx closed her eyes, but the memory was a good one. Those were rare for her. “I had the short temper of a dragon. Plus, my bad habit of catching fire made the nickname an easy choice for Gandalf. I used to find it endearing. Now, people say my name with malice and fear in their voices.”

“Why? You do not look so dangerous. Except, of course, for the large weapon in your hands.”

Nyx looked at the scythe as someone else joined the two of them and spoke. Aragorn. “Do not doubt her, Legolas. She has more fire in her than you think.”

Nyx looked away and took a few steps back, under an old stone arch. The two conversed and she ran her thumb over the inscription Legolas had pointed out. She hadn’t even noticed it until he’d mentioned it. She looked over at the Elf. He was laughing with Aragorn freely and she wondered how two people who’d seen battle and taken so many lives could still be so happy.

She looked at Aragorn. Though she knew he meant nothing ill, his words bothered her still, and she felt the anger inside her swell.

Take control of it.

Nyx leaned her head against the stone wall, closing her eyes and taking a few deep breaths. They didn’t work. It seemed she had less control over the evil inside her since she carried the Ring.

“Nyx!”

Gandalf was standing in front her, waving his hand back and forth in front of her face. The rest of the Fellowship had arrived but, thankfully, no one was paying attention to the two.

“Sorry, Gandalf.”

“What is troubling you, my dear?”

“It’s the Ring. It did something to me. I feel…angrier. The littlest things are making me angry. This morning, I nearly cut off the Elf’s head when she woke me up. And just now, Aragorn.” Nyx shook her head. “Maybe it is best if I do not journey with you.”

“Nonsense, my dear. You are one of us. There is more good in you than you think. Come.”

“The Ring Bearer is setting out on the Quest of Mount Doom,” Elrond announced. “On you who travel with him, no oath or bond is laid to go further than you will. Farewell. Hold to your purpose. May the blessings of Elves and Men and all free folk go with you.”

“The Fellowship awaits the Ring Bearer.”

Frodo turned nervously, taking the time to look at all the people who had chosen to accompany him on quest they may not return from. He walked through the group, leading the way.

The moment they crossed over Rivendell’s border, the air of magic dissipated, and Nyx suddenly felt it hard to breathe. She was at the back of the group with Aragorn who noticed instantly.

“Sacred Elven places suppress other forms of magic that is not their own for the sake of protection,” he explained. “Now outside of Rivendell, you once again feel the full force of the curse.”

“It wasn’t this bad before,” Nyx whispered, mainly to herself. “The Ring did something to me. To the curse.”

“Perhaps when we destroy it, you will go back to normal.”

Nyx didn’t know what normal was. “Do you really think we will destroy it?”

Aragorn was silent.

That afternoon they stopped for lunch and a longer break than usual. While Boromir helped Pippin and Merry work on their swordsmanship and Sam handed out plates of food to everyone, Nyx sat silently beside Gandalf as he smoked his trusty pipe.

Gimli, who was slightly behind Nyx and Gandalf, spoke surely, “If anyone was to ask of my opinion, which I note they are not, I’d say we are taking the long way ‘round. Gandalf, we could pass through the mines of Moria. My cousin, Balin, would give us a royal welcome.”

A sour taste filled Nyx’s mouth at the name of Moria, but she wasn’t quite sure why.

“No, Gimli,” Gandalf replied softly. “I would not take the road through Moria unless I had no other choice.”

“Why?” Nyx asked. “What’s wrong?”

“Evil lurks close there in the shadows,” Gandalf replied. “And since we are already walking straight into the fire, it would be best to avoid it when possible.”

Legolas, who had been watching the north, suddenly moved to the other side of the rocky outcropping to watch the south. He stared intently.

“What is it? What do you see?”

Legolas glanced at Nyx, who was squinting to try and see what he saw.

“Nothing, it’s just a whiff of cloud,” Gimli insisted.

“It’s moving fast,” Boromir stood. “Against the wind.”

“Crebain from Dunland!” Legolas shouted.

“Hide!” Aragorn shouted.

Nyx grabbed for Legolas, who remained where he was, quickly searching for the perfect place to hide. She found it nearly instantly, five paces from where they stood now. She dragged him along, tugging him under the curved boulder. Together, they tried to quiet their breathing and still their movements. Nyx heard everybody else scatter, their feet thumping against the ground as they ran for cover. She could feel Legolas’ chest against her shoulder and tried to match his steady breathing. It was hard but she managed to slow her breathing and calm the fire dwelling in the pit of her stomach.

The sky darkened with the birds’ arrival, caws piercing the air. Nyx saw their shadows on the ground in front of her as they flew by, circling the area before leaving in the same way they came. Slowly everybody emerged and watched the birds leave. Legolas looked back at their hiding place. From where he stood, he could barely see where they’d hidden.

“That is an excellent hiding spot,” Legolas admired.

Nyx shrugged and walked away. She was good at hiding. “What are they?”

“Spies of Saruman! The passage South is being watched. We must take the Pass of Caradhras.”

Nyx looked up at the snowy mountain, its peak hidden above the clouds. She grabbed her pack and tightened the laces on her boots. They set out immediately, climbing the steep incline of the mountain range. Nearly to the top, there was a grunt from behind Nyx and she turned to see Frodo tumbling down the hill.

“Frodo!” Gandalf called, unable to do anything but watch him roll down the slope of the mountain. Thankfully, Aragorn stopped him before he could roll too far and immediately Frodo reached for his chest. The Ring was gone. He spotted it just as Boromir did, lifting it up by the chain and holding it closely to his face.

“Boromir,” Aragorn said softly. The man either did not listen to him or did not hear him.

“It is a strange fate that we should suffer so much fear and doubt over so small a thing… Such a little thing.” He reached up to touch it. Aragorn called his name again, this time firmer. The man heard him this time.

“Give the Ring to Frodo.”

Nyx watched from beside Gandalf as he reluctantly returned the Ring to Frodo and ruffled his hair. She turned to the wizard.  “I do not like the way he looks at the Ring. And I especially don’t like the way he looks at Frodo.”

Gandalf clenched his jaw, shifting his weight. “Neither do I, my dear. Neither do I.”

Part 1.10 ➺

[statelies]

(   *  💀  /  jessie mei li, questioning, she/they )  —  is that emmeline vance i just saw rushing down the corridor? i hear they’re a twenty year old hufflepuff, returning for their sixth school year, but their friends would tell you that they are industrious & compassionate as well as blunt & graceless. if you want to know more about them, i guess i could tell you that they’re muggleborn, and from what i hear, they’re currently allying with the order. when our divination professor looks into their crystal ball, they see: falling asleep studying over open books, split open pomegranates, working under flickering candlelight, casual intimacy between friends, a kitchen full of laughter.

CHARACTER INSPIRATION: Izzie Stevens (Grey’s Anatomy), Callie Torres (Grey’s Anatomy) (+ Sara Ramirez, the they/she icon we all deserve), Kara Danvers (Supergirl), Charles Boyle (Brooklyn 99), Alina Starkov (Shadow and Bone), Janet (Not a Girl) (The Good Place), Penelope Garcia (Criminal Minds).

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Implied Racism.

LINKS: Pinterest. Playlist (Coming Soon).

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒

I N T R O

full name ➵ Emmeline Huan Vance

nicknames ➵ Emmy; Emma; Line; Em; Melly; Melsy; Vance; Hurricane

pronouns ➵ she/they/her/them

birthdate / age ➵ October 24th, 1959, 09:47 am / 20 years old

birthplace ➵ Brighton, East Sussex

childhood home ➵ Unknown home in Brighton, East Sussex — 162 Orchard Croft, Harlow, Essex

current residence ➵ Hogwarts, Scotland

religion ➵ agnostic; paternal grandparents were Methodist ( Protestant ) while maternal grandparents were also Christian

occupation ➵ full - time student at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry

P H Y S I C A L

height ➵ 5 feet, 2 inches / 157.5 cm

weight ➵ 48 kg / 106lb

body type ➵ hourglass shaped figure

hair ➵ dark brown, bordering on black; soft and wavy

eye color ➵ dark brown

dominant hand ➵ right

FC ➵ Jessie Mei Li

voice ➵ Jessie Mei Li

special characteristics ➵

small waist

has a birthmark on her right ankle that looks like an apple

pierced septum

smells of ➵

lavender hand lotion

pomegranate

cardamom, jasmine and orange blossom perfume

E M O T I O N A L

zodiac ➵ scorpio sun (x); sagittarius rising; cancer moon

MBTI ➵ ISFJ (“The Defender”)

positive traits ➵ industrious; compassionate; generous; warmhearted; benevolent; selfless; observant; honest; personable; kind.

negative traits ➵ blunt; graceless; meticulous; well-meaning; impatient; internalizes feelings; oversensitive; tactless; overbearing; clumsy.

likes ➵ Pumpkin pasties; duelling club; laughter; the rush of incoming patients; cooking for friends; Ballycastle Bats; Diagon Alley; being barefoot at the beach; roadtrips; apple juice; hugs from friends; nicknames; vanilla candles; the heat of a boiling cauldron; Sugar Quills; warm sweaters; pizza; pomegranate seeds; cheek kisses; taking photographs; finishing essays early; coffee with milk and two sugars; Queen; Aston Villa; cats

dislikes ➵ spam (the food); apparition; the Daily Prophet; starless nights; Kenmare Kestrels; karaoke; losing bets; skinned knees; snakes; pigeons; the colour fuschia (it’s too bright); ticking clocks; banana flavouring; funerals; Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans; Celestina Warbeck; mayonnaise; blue M&Ms; her lao ye; the word mudblood; leprechauns; fans of Kenmare Kestrels; losing football matches; witch Halloween costumes; rugby

amortentia ➵

birthday cake

fresh mint

old books

orange blossom

M A G I C

blood status ➵ muggleborn

wand ➵ Aspen, dragon heartstring core, 8 inches, hard

wand-quality aspen wood is white and fine-grained, and highly prized by all wand-makers for its stylish resemblance to ivory and its usually outstanding charmwork. The proper owner of the aspen wand is often an accomplished duellist, or destined to be so, for the aspen wand is one of those particularly suited to martial magic. An infamous and secretive eighteenth-century duelling club, which called itself The Silver Spears, was reputed to admit only those who owned aspen wands. In my experience, aspen wand owners are generally strong-minded and determined, more likely than most to be attracted by quests and new orders; this is a wand for revolutionaries.

patronus ➵ Hippo

E D U C A T I O N

Hogwarts class ➵ Hufflepuff, 1981

extracurriculars ➵

Hufflepuff Prefect / September 1979 - June 1981

Herbology Club & Greenhouse Keepers / September 1977 - June 1981

Toothill Duelling Club / September 1979 - June 1981

Wenlock Study Club / September 1979 - June 1981

courses & exams ➵

Ancient Runes - O

Astronomy - E

Charms - O

Defense Against the Dark Arts - O

Herbology - O

History of Magic - O

Muggle Studies - O

Potions - O

Transfiguration - O

Care of Magical Creatures - E

M I S C E L L A N E O U S

health ➵

walnut allergy

hayfever

pets ➵

Jíngyi; the long-eared owl

Shu; the white cat

handwriting ➵ Abuget

F A M I L Y

Deirdre (née Wilkinson) Vance ➵ paternal grandmother; retired nurse; deceased May. 1980

Edward Vance ➵ grandfather; retired soldier and miner; deceased Jan. 1980

Xiulan Wong ( Wong Xiulan ) ➵ maternal grandmother (lao lao); homeschooled; housewife; alive

Da Wong ( Wong Da ) ➵ maternal grandfather (lao ye); homeschooled; shop-owner; alive

Dr. Cillian Vance ➵ father; worked for/with the Red Cross UK (and the Hong Kong Red Cross); alive

Mei (née Wong) Vance ➵ mother; teaching assistant; alive

𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌

emmeline had always known they were different. at first, it was because of her skin, the way she looked and spoke and could never find anyone to play with on the playground, her chinese middle name and her lao lao being the one to pick her up from school every morning. she would cry to her mother at night, cling to her arms like they were the port keeping her safe from the storm, and listen to her father sing, voice warm and tender as she drifted to sleep, but she never got the answers for why she was treated differently — never got answers for why she was the only non-white child in her school, never got answers for why they hated her so much, hated her existence. but she weathered through primary school, finding her footing in secondary school with her only friend, aisha, who never cared that she was different, that sometimes she could do things that nobody else seemed able to do, that she’d been encouraged to always tell the truth, nothing but the truth, that sometimes she’d say things that hurt, things that stung even though she never meant for them to.

for a while, the feeling of being wholly different faded, or at least, emmeline didn’t notice it quite so prominently anymore, and then suddenly it appeared again — but this time it had been because she didn’t know if she always felt like a girl. not a girl in the traditional sense, anyway, not some days. she liked dresses and fancy heeled shoes and tiaras, but found herself equally at home in plaid shirts and her father’s way-too-big suit jacket and kicking around a football, and for a half-asian barely a teenage… person (she’s still working on it), suspended constantly between two identities, it confused them (even though they’re perfectly aware now that those things are superficial, but the feeling still remains). the only person they ever talked to about it back then was aisha — their lifeline, their best friend, the one their parents reluctantly approved of because they had been so lonely for so long. while aisha was crushing on boys, sweaty and loud and just this side of too teasing, and starting to wear makeup and changing herself, emmeline was trying to find where she fit in, trying to understand who she was, who she is, why they feel so different.

in the midst of all that, emmeline’s letter to hogwarts came. just another difference for emmeline to feel, the knowledge that they have magic was unexpected and tore her family in two. the family she loved - her mother, her father, her lao lao and lao ye, and granny and pops - all had differing opinions on whether or not to accept it, whether or not to send them to school and deal with the fact, up front, that emmeline was, and always would be, special. in the end, emmeline’s pops snuck her out, following instructions from a professor mcgonagall, to find diagon alley, the place where emmeline suddenly felt she fit in. she could feel the magic in the air, could feel it almost crackling in the space around her, almost inviting her in. of course, it took some time — a little too much time, really — to buy everything she needed, and when she cried into her ice cream on the way home, overwhelmed and tired and feeling so many things, he was the one who held her all the way home. 

he and their granny were the only ones there to send them off the hogwarts that first year, their parents reluctant to accept anything so unnatural about their child, but emmeline hardly cared at the time (even though it hit them later that night and they sobbed into their pillow), too excited to remember to even wave, too excited to remember to cry because she was leaving behind the only friend she’d ever truly known, and when they saw hogwarts, that castle appearing, they just knew. they were home. she knows, after years and years of being torn between two identities on so many different fronts, that people aren’y happy she’s here, happy she has magic, happy she calls this place her home away from home, that she laughs loud at the hufflepuff table and wears yellow and black face paint for quidditch matches and tried out for the muggle football team, but there’s nothing they can say to change who she is, her pride in the blood flowing through her veins, in the magic at her fingertips. emmeline’s always known they’re different, but having magic, being home at hogwarts, is the first time she’s ever felt proud to be so.